#im being so bad at being here im so sorry

[heejamas]

nicest guy: 33. the premiere

word count: 15k words (sorryyyy….againnnn) warnings: MDNI!!!!!! explicit sexual content. petnames, spanking, unprotected sex (dont do it!!!!), softdom! sunghoon, softdom!jake, all the fucking lot. spoiler alert im so sorry…… thank you…… prev | masterlist | next

You’re still adjusting your dress in the mirror when there’s a knock at your door. Three short taps, casual but expectant. You already know who it is. You smooth your hands down the fabric one last time, inhaling deeply before opening the door.

Jake stands there, leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, dressed in an all-black suit that fits him almost unfairly well. His hair is styled just enough to look effortless, and the way he’s looking at you, all wide eyes and slow grin, makes your stomach flip.

“Fuck. Wow.” His voice is almost reverent, his gaze dragging over you from head to toe. “You look insane. Like, actually. This should be illegal.”

You cross your arms, leaning against the doorframe just to make things difficult for him. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

Jake’s grin sharpens, his dimples showing as he leans in slightly, his voice dropping. “I can think of a few things.”

Your heart stutters for a second, but you keep your expression unimpressed. “Yeah? Too bad we have somewhere to be.”

“Five minutes won’t kill anyone,” he argues, slipping past you with ease, closing the door behind him. He barely gives you time to react before his hands find your waist, pulling you in like it’s the most natural thing in the world. His cologne is distracting, all warmth and spice, and his lips are just close enough to be dangerous.

“You’re trouble,” you murmur, your hands finding his shoulders.

“I could say the same about you.”

And then he kisses you, slow and teasing at first, before he deepens it, his fingers pressing into your back like he’s trying to memorize the feeling of you. He tastes like mint and something sweeter, something distinctly Jake, and it’s so easy—too easy—to melt into him.

But you don’t, not fully. You pull back, breathless, pressing a finger to his chest. “Jake.”

“Mm?” His lips chase yours like he’s not done yet.

“We have to go.”

He exhales dramatically, resting his forehead against yours for a second before finally pulling away. “Fine. But only because I don’t want Niki to yell at me for being late.”

The hotel ballroom where the premiere is being held is overwhelming the second you step inside. Warm lighting, sleek decor, champagne flutes in every direction. The kind of event where everyone is too cool to be fazed by the sheer number of celebrities in one place.

Jake keeps a hand on the small of your back as you walk in, like he’s worried you might disappear in the crowd. He greets a few people, nods at some others, but the second he spots Niki, his entire demeanor shifts.

Niki is standing near the center of the room, flanked by Yeonjun and a handful of other people you don’t immediately recognize. He’s holding a drink and talking animatedly, gesturing wildly like he’s in the middle of the most important story of his life. The second he sees you and Jake, his face lights up.

“There you are!” He waves you over, practically bouncing on his heels. “Finally. Thought you guys were gonna ditch me.”

“You think I’d miss this?” Jake grins, clapping a hand on Niki’s shoulder. “Big night, man.”

Niki gestures to the chaos around him. “Yeah, it’s pretty fucking insane. I saw Taylor Swift like ten minutes ago and almost passed out.”

You blink. “Wait, she’s actually here?”

“Of course she is, dude. It's her movie.” Niki shrugs. “She's probably somewhere being cooler than all of us combined.”

Jake stands beside you, his hand resting lightly on your back as the party swirls around you. The room is a blur of sequins, designer suits, and industry elites, but his attention is locked on you.

Sunoo arrives first, all bright energy and perfectly styled hair, Gigi right beside him in a dress that probably costs more than your rent. Woonhak follows, looking vaguely overwhelmed but excited. “Oh my God, there he is,” Sunoo gasps dramatically. “The man of the hour.”

Jake laughs. “You mean Niki? Pretty sure he’s the man of the hour.”

“No,” Gigi corrects. “He means you.”

“Yeah,” Sunoo adds, pointing between you and Jake. “We’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

Jake gives you a playful glance. “All good things, I hope?”

Jake, ever the charmer, is unfazed. He chats with them easily, slipping into the conversation like he’s always been part of your world. You watch as he makes them laugh, throwing in casual compliments and effortlessly winning them over.

After a few minutes, you catch sight of Jungwon and Jay arriving. “I’m gonna go say hi to them,” you tell Jake, placing a hand on his arm. “I’ll be right back.”

He nods, squeezing your fingers briefly. “Don’t take too long.”

You weave through the crowd toward Jungwon and Jay, both looking effortlessly put together. Jungwon spots you first, his face lighting up. When you reach them, your brother pulls you into a quick hug. “We had a tie problem.” His gaze turns to Jay, who is silently laughing.

You glance toward the bar. “I was actually about to grab a drink. You guys want anything?”

Jay shakes his head. “Sunghoon already went to get ours.”

Of course he did.

You nod, excusing yourself before heading toward the bar. As you approach, you spot Sunghoon leaning against the counter, one hand resting casually on the surface while the other holds a drink. His suit fits perfectly, sharp lines and effortless confidence, the deep navy fabric complementing his complexion in a way that makes your thoughts stray into dangerous territory. The open collar of his dress shirt reveals just enough skin to make you swallow harder than you’d like, and the sleek styling of his hair only sharpens the cocky smirk he wears when he notices you approaching.

“What a coincidence,” he muses, tilting his glass slightly in your direction. “You following me, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, masking the way your pulse quickens. “You wish.”

He tilts his head, letting his gaze drag over you in that slow, deliberate way that makes your skin heat. “Maybe I do.”

Your throat goes dry, but you refuse to let it show. “Shouldn’t you be taking those drinks back to your friends?”

He smirks, swirling the liquid in his glass lazily. “They can wait. Besides, looks like you could use a distraction.”

You scoff, leaning against the bar beside him, trying not to focus on how close he is. “You think you’re that distracting?”

Sunghoon leans in slightly, his voice dropping to that infuriatingly smooth register that always makes the air between you shift. “I know I am.”

You hate that he’s right. But you hate even more how much you don’t want to walk away.

He studies you for a moment before raising a brow. “So, how’s Jake?”

The question catches you off guard, but you recover quickly. “He’s talking to Sunoo, Giselle, and Woonhak.” You pause, then glance at him knowingly. “You know, since he invited you here and all.”

His smirk deepens, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Yeah. Generous of him, don’t you think?”

You nod, watching him carefully. “I like that you two are getting close again.”

Sunghoon hums, taking a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down. Then, he looks at you with that familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “Of course you like it. You’re the reason for it.” He pauses, tilting his head slightly. “Or did you already forget what happened on Super Bowl night?”

Your breath catches for half a second, but you school your expression, refusing to give him the reaction he wants. Instead, you shift your gaze across the room, scanning the crowd—and that’s when you see Jake.

He’s leaning against a tall table, still engaged in conversation, but his eyes are locked onto you and Sunghoon. There’s something in the way he’s watching, the curve of his lips somewhere between amused and possessive. It sends a shiver down your spine—not quite jealousy, but not entirely something else, either.

The bartender slides your drink in front of you, breaking the tension. You take the glass, turning back to Sunghoon with a tight-lipped smile. “I should get back.”

His smirk lingers, as if he knows exactly why you’re leaving so quickly. “Sure. Wouldn’t want to keep your boyfriend waiting.” You ignore the way your stomach tightens at his words, turning on your heel and walking away before you do something reckless.

You return to Jake, finding him standing with Heeseung, Beomgyu, and Soobin near the edge of the party. The three of them are deep in an animated discussion, and you barely get a word in before Beomgyu clutches Soobin’s shoulder like he’s delivering the most important information of the night.

“Dude, I swear to God, we just went to the bathroom and Tom Holland was in there,” Beomgyu says, eyes wide.

Soobin nods in solemn agreement. “He was washing his hands like a normal person. It was surreal.”

“Was he British?” Heeseung asks, raising an eyebrow.

Beomgyu stares at him. “Bro, of course he was British, what kind of question—”

“I mean, did he sound British in real life?” Heeseung clarifies, crossing his arms.

“I didn’t hear him talk. But he had the British stance,” Soobin supplies, as if that explains everything.

“What the hell is a British stance?” Jake finally asks, chuckling.

Beomgyu waves his hand dismissively. “You wouldn’t get it.”

At this point, the conversation takes a sharp turn as Heeseung squints at Soobin. “Okay, but real question—who’s the best Spider-Man? Because I already know your dumbass answer.”

Soobin gasps. “Tobey Maguire is objectively the best—”

“Oh my God, here we go,” Beomgyu groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re actually delusional if you think Andrew Garfield wasn’t the best,” Heeseung counters.

Jake laughs, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you slightly closer as they keep arguing. He leans in, his voice a warm murmur in your ear, “You wanna get out of here?”

Your breath hitches for half a second, but you play it cool, tilting your head slightly. “You’re feeling bold tonight.”

He smirks. “You have that effect on me.”

Before you can respond, Beomgyu suddenly turns back to you both, looking horrified. “Wait—Jake, don’t tell me you think Tom Holland is the best Spider-Man.”

Jake doesn’t even glance at him. “I think Y/N and I are leaving.”

Soobin gasps. “COWARD.”

You laugh, letting Jake steer you toward the exit, ignoring the continued chaos behind you. His hand is firm on your lower back, fingers pressing lightly as he guides you through the crowd, a silent reminder of his presence. The party hums around you—music pulsing, glasses clinking, voices overlapping in an endless sea of conversation—but it all fades into the background as you step into the crisp night air. The smoking area is nearly empty, just a few scattered guests lingering near the edge, their quiet conversations drowned out by the distant bass from inside. The air is laced with the faint scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne, but all you can focus on is Jake, who wastes no time in pulling you closer by the waist.

“You okay?” he murmurs, his voice smooth and low against your ear. His lips graze the sharp line of your jaw, not quite kissing, just enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“I’m fine,” you reply, though your breath hitches slightly when he finally presses a kiss there, just below your ear.

“Yeah?” He pulls back just enough to look at you, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “You don’t seem fine.”

You roll your eyes, though it’s half-hearted. “You just like messing with me.”

“Maybe.” His hands tighten around your waist, his thumbs pressing into your sides. “Or maybe I just like you.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you play it cool. “Oh yeah? How much?”

Jake tilts his head, pretending to think. “Mm, a lot.” His lips find your jawline again, kissing along it slowly, savoring every inch. “Like, wanna-be-around-you-all-the-time a lot. Like, think-you’re-the-coolest-person-here a lot.”

You hum softly, enjoying the warmth of Jake’s touch, the way his fingers trace absentminded circles against your waist. But there’s something deeper lingering between you, something you can’t ignore.

“Jake,” you say quietly, tilting your head up to look at him properly. “Can I ask you something? Like, for real?”

He pulls back slightly, his gaze warm and steady. “Of course.”

You hesitate for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip before finally speaking. “What… what exactly is this? You and me.”

Jake blinks, as if the question catches him off guard, but then a small, knowing smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know if I have the perfect answer for that,” he admits. “But I know that I really like getting to know you. I like how things feel when I’m with you. And I don’t wanna push you into anything—you’ve got a lot going on, I get that. But I like where we are right now.” His fingers tighten slightly on your waist, grounding, reassuring. “I like this... whatever this is.”

Your heart stumbles slightly at his words, the sincerity behind them. You nod, letting the moment settle, before shifting slightly. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

Jake grins. “Damn, two in a row? Should I be nervous?”

You roll your eyes but don’t take the bait. Instead, you inhale deeply, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “Why don’t you get mad about Sunghoon? About him being around?”

Jake exhales a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You wanna know the truth?”

“That’d be nice.”

He leans against the railing, still holding onto you like he’s unwilling to let you go. “It’s not the first time this has happened with me and Sunghoon.”

Your brows lift. “Seriously?”

Jake nods. “Yeah. We’ve had this… I don’t know what to call it. This rivalry? Competition? Whatever it is, it’s not new. But it’s never been like this before.”

“Like this how?”

His thumb brushes against your hip, gentle, thoughtful. “It’s never been with someone like you.”

Your breath catches slightly. “What does that mean?”

Jake chuckles, shaking his head. “It means you make it different. You make it feel less like a fight and more like— I don’t know. Like a game we don’t mind playing.” He pauses, tilting his head. “And I think it’s because I respect you. I know you’re gonna do whatever you want in the end, and I trust that. And…” He grins, eyes glinting with something playful. “I like it. I like the chase. I like having to work for you.”

Your heart squeezes at his words, warmth creeping up your neck. “You’re really not jealous?”

“Oh, I’m jealous,” he admits, laughing. “But I’m not bitter. Not when it’s you.”

For a second, you can’t think of anything to say. So you don’t. Instead, you reach up, tangling your fingers in the fabric of his jacket and pulling him down into a kiss. Jake reacts instantly, hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer, until there’s barely any space left between you. His lips move against yours with an easy certainty, like he’s trying to tell you everything he just said all over again—without words, just the heat of his touch, the press of his body against yours. You feel the way he deepens the kiss, his fingers tightening slightly at your waist, like he wants to make sure you don’t slip away. And you don’t want to.

You let yourself sink into him, your hands gripping the lapels of his jacket, holding him there like he’s the only thing anchoring you to the moment. The world outside the two of you feels distant, a blur of cigarette smoke and the muffled voices. It’s just Jake, his lips warm and insistent against yours, his breath fanning across your cheek as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper, as if he wants to taste every inch of you.

Then reality nudges at the back of your mind, and you remember where you are.

You break the kiss, just barely, your breath mingling with his. “Jake,” you murmur, voice slightly unsteady. “We’re still in public.”

His lips barely leave your skin as he hums in response, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth. “So?”

You huff a quiet laugh, raising an eyebrow. “So, people are watching.”

Jake exhales a soft chuckle, completely unfazed. “Good,” he murmurs, dipping his head lower, his lips brushing against your jaw, then lower, trailing down the column of your neck. His voice is a low, amused whisper against your skin. “I like when people watch.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, your fingers tightening in the fabric of his jacket. There’s something reckless about the way he says it, something bold, unbothered—like he’s perfectly happy letting the whole world see that you’re his.

You’re about to retort, maybe call him insane, maybe tell him to shut up and keep kissing you, but then—your gaze drifts past his shoulder.

And your stomach twists.

Across the smoking area, near the edge where the neon glow fades into shadows, Sunghoon is standing with some girl. He’s not kissing her, but he’s leaning in way too close, his posture relaxed, effortless—like this isn’t even something he has to think about. Like it’s second nature to him.

She’s smiling, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers as she looks up at him, hanging onto whatever he’s saying. And he’s looking at her the way he looks at anyone he’s about to pull into his orbit—sharp, teasing, eyes glinting with something just shy of a smirk. He’s angled slightly toward her, their bodies just close enough that if she took half a step forward, they’d be chest-to-chest. It’s casual, but you know him well enough to recognize the way his body language shifts when he’s interested in someone.

And then he looks up.

His eyes meet yours, and in an instant, everything sharpens. The noise around you fades, the air between you crackling with something unspoken, something tense. His expression doesn’t change—he doesn’t pull away from the girl, doesn’t step back. He just holds your gaze, steady and unreadable, like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

Like he’s daring you to react.

Your pulse kicks up, an unfamiliar mix of emotions rising in your chest—something heated, something possessive, something almost irrational. You don’t know if it’s anger, annoyance, or something else entirely, but you feel it curling tight in your stomach.

Jake, still oblivious, is kissing along your neck, lips pressing slow, lingering against your skin. His grip on your waist tightens, his voice low. “You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs, trailing another kiss just below your jaw.

But you barely register his words, barely feel the way he’s touching you. Because your attention is locked on Sunghoon, on the way he’s still looking at you, as if waiting to see what you’ll do.

And it makes your blood boil.

The spark of defiance ignites in your chest before the thought even fully forms. You don’t hesitate. If Sunghoon wants to play, you can play too.

Without breaking eye contact with him, you tighten your grip on Jake’s collar and pull him back into a kiss—this time, not soft or teasing, but intense, deliberate. Jake barely has a second to react before he’s melting into you, his hands sliding down your waist, fingers gripping your hips as he presses closer. He exhales a quiet groan against your lips, caught off guard but more than willing to follow your lead.

You tilt your head, deepening it, letting your nails drag lightly against the nape of his neck. The heat between you simmers into something heavier, something heady, and when Jake's fingers dig into your sides in response, you know he's completely lost in it. Good. That’s exactly what you need.

Still, even as you lose yourself in the kiss, you keep your awareness sharp, your senses wired. You know Sunghoon is still watching. And when you finally break the kiss, breathless, you make a point of glancing back toward him.

Your stomach twists the moment you do.

The girl beside him is even closer now, pressing into his side, lips trailing along his jawline like she’s mapping it out with precision. Sunghoon, on the other hand, looks completely unaffected. His expression is unreadable—bored, maybe. Or amused. His arm is lazily slung over the balcony railing, one hand wrapped around his drink, posture relaxed, unbothered. But his eyes?

His eyes are locked onto you.

There’s something deliberate in the way he holds your gaze, something slow and heavy, like he knows exactly what you’re trying to do—and he’s daring you to try harder. It makes your pulse spike, anger bubbling beneath your skin, because he’s playing right back, and worse—he’s good at it.

You refuse to let him win.

Turning back to Jake, you grab his wrist and pull him with you, leading him toward a more secluded corner of the smoking area, tucked behind a concrete wall where the lights don’t quite reach. Jake follows without question, his grip tightening around your hand, his breath uneven from the kiss.

“Where are we going?” he murmurs, voice low, eager.

You don’t answer. Not yet. Not until you steal one last glance over your shoulder, making sure Sunghoon sees exactly what you’re doing.

You don’t wait to see his full reaction, but you catch it anyway—the smirk pulling at Sunghoon’s lips, lazy and knowing, like he’s completely unfazed by your little game. Like he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. It makes your jaw clench.

But you don’t give him the satisfaction of hesitating. You disappear behind the wall with Jake, letting the dim lighting and the thrum of the distant bass swallow you whole.

The second you’re out of sight, Jake tugs you back against him, hands firm on your waist. He’s still catching his breath, his eyes dark with something unreadable—half amusement, half hunger. But there’s something else there too, something smug, something playful.

“You know he’s an asshole, right?” His voice is low, teasing, his fingers dipping just beneath the hem of your dress. “And you know I’m so much better than him.” You open your mouth, but before you can say anything, he leans in, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “But you just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Your stomach flips at the way he says it—not accusing, not jealous, just… taunting. Testing you. And you hate how much you like it.

Your lips curl, fingers sliding up his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “Maybe I just like watching you get all competitive,” you murmur, tilting your head slightly, letting your lips ghost over his jaw. “Maybe I like making you work for it.”

Jake exhales sharply, his grip on you tightening. “Yeah?” His voice drops even lower, and before you can respond, he presses his lips to yours again, harder this time.

The kiss is intense, charged—his hands tugging you closer, his fingers digging into your hips as he backs you against the cool concrete wall. His lips part against yours, and you let him in, let him deepen it, let him take.

His mouth leaves yours only to trail lower, tracing a slow, deliberate path along your jaw, down to your neck. He finds that spot just beneath your ear and lingers there, lips pressing, tongue flicking, teeth grazing just enough to make you inhale sharply.

“Still thinking about him?” he murmurs against your skin.

You exhale something between a laugh and a breathy sigh, threading your fingers through his hair. “Not even a little.”

Jake chuckles, satisfied, before dipping lower. His lips trace down your collarbone, hot and open-mouthed, like he wants to leave something behind—some kind of mark, something to remind you who had you here first. His hands explore, one gripping your waist, the other slipping up your back, pressing you flush against him.

Jake’s grip tightens, his fingers digging into your waist as he presses you further against the cold wall. His kisses turn rougher, more demanding—teeth grazing your lower lip before he tugs at it, swallowing the quiet gasp that escapes you.

"You like this, don’t you?" he murmurs, his voice dripping with something dark, something teasing. His hand slides up your side, fingers curling around your ribs as his lips travel back to your neck, biting down just enough to make your breath hitch. "Letting me push you around a little?"

His words send a shiver down your spine, and when he pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes heavy-lidded, pupils blown, you know you’ve both lost track of who’s playing who. You don’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, you tilt your head, giving him more access, your fingers tightening in his hair as he licks over the spot he just bit. He chuckles against your skin, satisfied, before sucking a bruise into your collarbone.

A soft moan escapes your lips, barely audible, but Jake catches it. His breath stutters for a split second before he exhales sharply, pressing his hips against yours in response. "Shit," he mutters, dragging his teeth over your pulse. "You can’t be doing that in my ear, princess. That’s not fair."

Before he can say anything else, the buzz of his phone vibrating in his pocket interrupts the moment. He ignores it. You feel it again. A steady vibration, insistent. Jake just groans, mouth still on your skin.

"Jake," you whisper, a little breathless. "It’s your phone."

"Don’t care," he mutters, kissing you again.

You laugh softly, pushing at his chest. "It could be important."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, jaw clenched, clearly annoyed. With a heavy sigh, he digs into his pocket, pulling out his phone. When he sees the caller ID, he groans even louder.

"For fuck’s sake," he mutters before answering. "What?"

You can’t hear what’s being said on the other end, but Jake rolls his eyes. "Bro, are you serious right now? I'm—" He pauses, glancing at you, then sighs again. "Fine. I’ll be there in a sec."

He hangs up and shoves his phone back into his pocket, looking at you with the most put-out expression. "It’s Niki. He’s making a toast or whatever and wants all the guys there."

You snort. "You should go…"

"Yeah." Jake sighs, rubbing a hand down his face before looking at you again. His eyes roam over your slightly disheveled appearance, the faint marks blooming on your collarbone. A smirk tugs at his lips.

You roll your eyes. "I was literally about to fix myself up."

His smirk widens. "Yeah, you better."

You smack his arm, making him laugh. "Shut up," you mutter, turning toward the restroom. "I’ll meet you there."

Jake steps away first, sighing dramatically as he runs a hand through his hair. “Better hurry up, angel,” he teases over his shoulder. “Don’t wanna keep me waiting too long.”

You roll your eyes, watching as he disappears into the crowd before exhaling and smoothing down your outfit. Your body still feels warm, buzzing from everything that just happened, but you shake it off, heading toward a bathroom nearby.

The hallway is quieter here, dimly lit, the noise of the party muffled behind thick walls. You push open the door and step inside, immediately making a beeline for the mirror.

The second you see yourself, you groan, leaning against the counter with both hands. Your lips are swollen, your hair is slightly tousled, and there’s the faintest hint of red blooming on your collarbone where Jake had been particularly eager.

“My god,” you mutter, tilting your head to inspect the damage. You press your fingers over the spot, sighing. “Girl, what the fuck are you doing?”

You shake your head, standing up straighter as you start fixing yourself. Running your fingers through your hair, smoothing out your clothes, fixing your lipstick in an attempt to erase the evidence.

Alright. You’re fine. You take one last breath, steadying yourself.

Then, pushing open the stall door, you step out—

Sunghoon is leaning against the wall right outside the bathroom, arms crossed, waiting.

His eyes meet yours immediately—dark, unreadable. There’s a flicker of something behind them, something almost amused, and then his lips quirk up at the corner.

“Took you long enough,” he murmurs.

Your breath catches for a second, your heart still settling from the mess Jake left you in, but you mask it quickly. “Were you waiting for me?” you ask, tilting your head, trying to sound unimpressed.

Sunghoon just shrugs. “Maybe.” You roll your eyes, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, trying to ignore the way he’s looking at you—so casual, so at ease, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Having fun tonight?” he asks, voice smooth as ever.

You lift an eyebrow. “You tell me,” you counter. “Looked like you were having a great time with that girl.”

His smirk deepens, just a fraction. “You were watching?”

You scoff, arms crossing over your chest. “You were standing right there. Kinda hard to miss.”

He hums, tilting his head. “So, what? You jealous?”

The accusation makes your stomach twist, but you don’t let it show. You just let out a short, humorless laugh. “Not even a little.”

Sunghoon chuckles, low and deep. “Right,” he drawls.

You hate the way he says it—like he doesn’t believe you, like he knows better. And maybe he does. Maybe he caught the way your gaze lingered too long, how you clenched your jaw when you saw his arm resting lazily on the balcony railing, completely unfazed by your attempts to get a rise out of him.

You straighten your spine. “You must be enjoying yourself, though,” you say, voice laced with something just shy of sarcasm. “Didn’t look like you were complaining when she was all over you.”

Sunghoon just hums again, taking a slow step toward you. “Wouldn’t say that,” he muses.

Another step.

Your back hits the wall before you even realize you’re moving, and Sunghoon is right there, hovering just close enough to make your pulse stutter. He doesn’t touch you, doesn’t do anything more than lean in, but it’s enough. Enough to make the space feel smaller, the air heavier.

“She was cute,” he admits, voice dropping slightly. “But I don’t even remember her name.” You bite the inside of your cheek, refusing to react. He watches you for a second longer, studying, waiting, and then his lips curve again. “What?” he murmurs. “Disappointed?”

Your eyes narrow. “I should’ve listened when people told me you were trouble.”

Sunghoon tilts his head, feigning curiosity. “Oh? And who told you that?”

You shrug, looking away. “People.”

He hums, like he’s considering it, then dips his head a little lower, just enough to make you look at him again. “Well,” he says, “they’re not wrong.” The words shouldn’t make your stomach flip. But they do. “And you know that,” he continues, voice quieter now. “You’ve always known that.”

You swallow, lips pressing together. Sunghoon’s smirk grows. “And you like it,” he says simply.

Something about the certainty in his voice makes your breath hitch. Like it’s not a question, not even up for debate. Like he knows you too well, has seen the way you react when he talks to you like this, corners you like this. You open your mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to deflect, but he beats you to it.

“You don’t play fair, either,” he murmurs. “That’s why you pulled Jake like that.”

Your fingers twitch at your sides. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, you do.” The worst part is that he’s right. And he knows it. The tension stretches between you, thick and charged, but before you can get lost in it completely, something clicks in the back of your mind—Jake.

You blink, straightening slightly. “I have to go.”

Sunghoon doesn’t move, still caging you in. “Back to him?” You nod. He exhales sharply through his nose, a smirk still lingering on his lips. “Of course you do.”

You lift your chin. “Don’t start.”

Sunghoon just lets out a quiet chuckle, finally stepping back, giving you space. “Go ahead,” he says, waving a hand. You roll your eyes, stepping past him, ignoring the way your skin still feels too hot. And as you walk away, you swear you can still hear him laughing.

You make your way back to the party, heart still racing from your conversation with Sunghoon. The music pulses through the air, a mix of laughter and chatter filling the space as you navigate through the crowd.

You spot Jake and Niki at a table surrounded by a group of familiar faces—Heeseung, Beomgyu, Soobin, Woonhak, Jungwon, Jay, Sunoo, Giselle, and Yeonjun. Niki stands up, animatedly gesturing with a drink in hand, clearly in the middle of one of his infamous speeches.

“And let me tell you, folks,” Niki booms, “life is like a pizza! You can have all the toppings in the world, but if the base is soggy, it’s just not gonna work!” The table erupts in laughter, and you can’t help but smile. Niki’s ridiculousness is contagious.

As you reach the table, you lean against it, slipping in beside Jungwon. You rest your head on his shoulder, the comfort of his presence settling your racing thoughts. He glances down at you, an amused glint in his eyes.

Jungwon glances down at you, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You’ve really changed, haven’t you, Y/N?” he muses, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You blink up at him, feigning innocence. “What do you mean?”

He scoffs, nudging you playfully. “You just stroll in here, all casual, after… whatever that was, and expect me to believe you’re only here for the pizza?”

You roll your eyes, the warmth of your earlier encounter with Sunghoon fading slightly in the comfort of your twin’s teasing. “I came for the pizza and Niki’s wisdom, obviously,” you reply, trying to sound serious.

Your brother chuckles, shaking his head as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer. You lean into him, the familiar warmth of his embrace making you feel safe and grounded.

But then your gaze drifts away from your brother and settles on Jake, who is seated next to Heeseung, laughter bubbling up between them. He’s animated, his eyes sparkling with joy as he jokes around, completely lost in the moment with his friends. Watching him, a wave of warmth washes over you, spreading from your chest to your fingertips.

In that moment, you can’t help but think how much you genuinely like him. The realization hits you with a gentle tug at your heart. If only you’d met under different circumstances, perhaps things would have been easier. Maybe you could have shared more moments like this, more laughter, and less confusion. The thought lingers in your mind, and you find yourself smiling softly as you wonder what the future might hold. Who knows? Maybe there’s a chance for something more between you two.

As if sensing your gaze, Jake looks over at you, a small smile spreading across his face. It’s the kind of smile that lights up his eyes, a mix of mischief and warmth, as if he knows he wants to be close to you but doesn't want to disrupt the fun he's having with his friends. You feel your cheeks warm at the sight, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

The energy in the room was electric, bodies swaying to the beat, laughter mixing with the music, until Niki broke through the crowd, breathless and wide-eyed. “Heeseung! Jake!” he called out, his excitement palpable. “You’ve got to see this! Whoopi Goldberg is on the dance floor right now!”

The mention of Whoopi had Beomgyu and Soobin leaning in, intrigued. “No way, are you serious?” Beomgyu asked, his expression shifting to one of genuine curiosity. “We have to go check that out.” Soobin nodded vigorously, already stepping forward.

Woonhak leaned back in his chair, a lazy grin on his face. “I actually talked to her earlier. She called me ‘Mr. Kim.’” He delivered the line nonchalantly, but the playful smirk on his face suggested he loved the attention.

Laughter erupted around the group, Jungwon and Jay nearly collapsing with mirth. Even Jake, who typically maintained a cool demeanor, couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, Niki seized his arm, pulling him toward the dance floor. “Let’s go, Jake!”

Watching them go, you felt a warmth spread through you. Jake looked so relaxed, so alive, his laughter ringing out amidst the chaos. It was a joy to see him enjoying himself without a care in the world.

“Hey,” Jungwon called, breaking you from your thoughts. “You wanna dance?”

With that, you followed Jungwon onto the dance floor, Jay, Sunoo, and Giselle close behind. The music pulsed around you, each beat vibrating through your chest. You lost yourself in the rhythm, spinning and laughing, letting the music take over.

Then you felt it—a shift in the atmosphere, something unsettling. You turned slightly, and there he was: Sunghoon, sauntering by with another girl, laughter escaping his lips like it was the soundtrack to your annoyance. The sight hit you hard, a surge of frustration bubbling up as you contemplated “accidentally” tripping him.

But no. You weren’t going to let him ruin your night. Not with your friends around, not with the music pumping, and definitely not when Whoopi Goldberg was potentially doing the cha-cha-slide somewhere in this building. You forced a smile, turned back to your friends, and kept dancing, determined to shake off the irritation.

Then, as if the universe was playing a cruel joke, Sunghoon’s eyes locked onto yours. For a fleeting moment, everything around you fell silent, the air thick with tension. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but before he could, the girl beside him pulled him back into their conversation.

You turned away, your jaw clenching. The music and laughter felt distant now, as if you were watching the party unfold through a haze. Jungwon noticed the shift in your mood and leaned closer, concern etching his features. “You good?”

You nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But as you moved to the beat, your gaze kept drifting back to Sunghoon, the weight of his presence hanging in the air like a cloud. The night was still young, yet suddenly, it felt a lot heavier.

After dancing for what felt like forever, the weight of your heels became unbearable. You decided it was time for a break. Spotting Sunoo chatting with Giselle, you made your way over. “Hey, I’m going to grab some slippers from my room,” you announced, already starting to walk away.

Sunoo raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk forming on his lips. He gave you a knowing look. “Just be careful, because there’s someone watching you all the time.” His tone was teasing, but you knew exactly who he meant—Sunghoon. The unspoken tension between the two of you was palpable, and Sunoo was well aware of it.

“Yeah, well, I’m going to my room anyway,” you replied, already moving away, not bothering to hide your smile.

As you strolled down the dimly lit hallway, the party music faded into a distant buzz, leaving just the thumping of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. You could feel Sunghoon’s gaze boring into your back, a familiar presence that sent little shivers down your spine. You could practically picture him brushing off that girl who had been flirting with him just moments before, his signature smirk dismissing her advances like a pro. He had this crazy way of commanding attention, and somehow, you were caught right in the middle of it.

Stopping in front of your door, the cool metal handle felt like a nice break from the heat radiating off your skin. Just as you turned, Sunghoon rounded the corner, the flickering light catching his jawline, making him look almost otherworldly in the shadows. “You know,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, a playful smirk on your lips, “I totally knew you’d pull this. You’re pretty obvious.”

His lips curled into that signature smirk that always sent a jolt through you. He stepped closer, the air between you charged with an electric tension. “And you can’t seem to stay away, can you? It’s like you’re into this little game we’ve got,” he shot back, his tone playful but with a hint of something deeper.

“Oh, is that what this is? A game?” You crossed your arms, trying to hide how giddy you felt inside. The banter flowed easily, but you both knew there was a lot more going on under the surface.

“Definitely,” he leaned in a bit, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of mischief and challenge. “But don’t worry; I’m always down for a challenge. Especially with someone like you.”

Your heart raced at his proximity, a rush of adrenaline flooding your veins. You could feel your cheeks heating up, giving away the cool facade you were trying to maintain. “Well, you better keep up then,” you shot back, the words tumbling out with a surprising boldness.

Sunghoon chuckled softly, his amusement clear, but then his expression turned serious for a moment. “Oh, really? Should I?” His voice dropped low, each word hanging in the air, creating a charged intimacy that felt almost electric.

In that instant, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in your own bubble. The weight of unspoken words hovered between you, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the night was poised on the brink of something monumental. You could see the flicker of emotions dancing in his eyes, a mixture of challenge and desire, and it made your heart skip a beat.

“You know, I’m kinda tired of this back-and-forth game we’ve been playing,” he said, stepping even closer, a serious look crossing his face.

“Oh really? And what do you want, then?” You challenged, the playful banter tinged with curiosity.

“I want you, Y/N,” he admitted, the sincerity in his voice sending a thrill down your spine. “Not just this teasing dance.”

The seriousness in his tone made your breath hitch. It felt like a confession, raw and honest, cutting through the playful tension that had defined your interactions until now. You were caught off guard, your heart pounding louder in your ears. You met his gaze, a mix of surprise and something that felt like hope swirling in your chest.

He moved even closer, hovering just inches from you, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath brushed against your skin as he leaned in, almost whispering. “You talk about me being trouble, but let’s be honest—you’re worse than I am.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a mix of thrill and frustration bubbling inside you. “What are you even talking about?” You looked up at him, and the playful glint in his eyes made your heart race.

“Come on,” he teased, tilting his head slightly. He leaned in, brushing his lips just beside your ear, making your breath hitch. “You get jealous at me flirting with other girls, but you can’t expect me to just sit here while you fuck with Jake, either. It’s a two-way street, you know?”

He pulled back slightly, looking deep into your eyes, searching for a reaction. You felt a surge of irritation mix with a strange thrill at his words, his expression teasing yet sincere. “Fine,” you huffed, frustration bubbling to the surface. But the truth was, you wanted to fight against it, to challenge him. “Maybe I don’t want to keep playing games too.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” He stepped back, that playful glint returning to his eyes. “Tell me.”

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze pressing on you, and for a moment, all the teasing, all the games, melted away. “I want you to stop messing with my head and just be honest with me.”

Sunghoon’s expression softened slightly, and for a brief moment, the playful banter gave way to something deeper. “Alright, I can do that. I want you. No games.”

You felt your heart race at his admission, a rush of heat flooding your cheeks. “Okay,” you replied, your voice steady but laced with a hint of vulnerability. “No games.”

His lips curled into a knowing smirk, a challenge flickering in his eyes. “But even now, you’re still not making the first move, are you?”

You held his gaze, unflinching. The air was thick with tension, and the silence stretched between you, charged with anticipation. You didn’t want to be the first to break; instead, you leaned into the moment, your heart pounding as you locked your eyes onto his.

Instead of waiting for him to lean in, you took a step back, slowly opening your door and entering your room, all while keeping your eyes fixed on him. You moved in reverse, your gaze never leaving his, a playful yet inviting challenge dancing in your expression. The door creaked slightly as you stepped inside, the space now feeling intimate and charged.

Sunghoon followed you inside, his gaze intense as he stepped through the threshold. He closed the door behind him with a firm thud, the sound echoing in the small room, sealing you both in a world of your own. You could feel the heat radiating off him as he advanced, the atmosphere thick with unspoken desires.

You walked backward until the back of your knees met the edge of your bed, the soft mattress providing a stark contrast to the tension in the air. You felt the gentle push as you sat down, your eyes never leaving his. Sunghoon remained standing, towering over you, a smirk still playing on his lips.

Sunghoon stepped closer, his expression shifting to one of determination. “So, you think you can just tease me like this?” His voice dropped an octave, filled with a rough edge that sent shivers down your spine.

You held his gaze, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness. “I’m not scared of you,” you replied, trying to sound bold, but the way he looked at you made it hard to maintain your composure.

He smirked, a confident glint in his eyes. “Good, because I’m not playing games anymore.” With that, he took a step back, deliberately creating a bit of distance. You watched, curious, as he slowly removed his blazer, revealing a fitted shirt that clung to his frame. He left a few buttons undone, exposing just enough of his chest to make your heart race.

The sight of him, so effortlessly confident and attractive, made your breath hitch. You leaned back on your hands, your heart pounding as you assessed him, unable to look away. The playful banter had evaporated, leaving only a charged atmosphere between you.

“See something you like?” he teased, his voice low and taunting. The intensity of his gaze pinned you in place, making it hard to think straight.

“Maybe,” you replied, a hint of challenge in your tone, even as your body betrayed you, leaning slightly back, inviting him to close the distance.

Sunghoon stepped forward again, this time his presence more dominant, almost predatory. “You have no idea what you’re asking for, do you?” He leaned closer, making your heart race even faster. Standing before you, he towered over you, a commanding figure that filled the space with undeniable energy.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your chin, lifting it gently to meet his gaze. The contact sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt both vulnerable and exhilarated under his touch. “Look at me,” he urged softly, his eyes locked onto yours, a mix of intensity and something deeper swirling within them.

You held his gaze, feeling the weight of the moment, your heart pounding as he carefully maintained the connection. There was an undeniable tension in the air, charged with desire and anticipation.

“I want you to understand just how much I want this,” he murmured, his thumb stroking your chin lightly, sending electric sparks through you. It was a simple gesture, yet it felt like an invitation into something thrilling and unknown.

“I think I can say I’ve been waiting for this for a long time,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper, heart racing as you laid your feelings bare.

“Oh, really?” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes, his lips curling into a smirk that sent butterflies swirling in your stomach. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly sank to his knees in front of you, a powerful move that made your breath hitch.

As he knelt, the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you in this charged atmosphere. He leaned in closer, his gaze locked onto yours, intense and unwavering. Then, with deliberate slowness, he reached for your sandal, fingers brushing against your ankle as he began to slip it off.

You felt a rush of heat wash over you, the intimate gesture sending your mind into a whirl. You wanted to say something, to break the thick silence, but the way he looked at you left you momentarily speechless. His touch was gentle yet purposeful, a stark contrast to the fiery desire building between you.

With deliberate slowness, he moved to your second sandal, his fingers brushing your skin as he slipped it off. His gaze never faltered, locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The world outside your room faded, and it felt like just the two of you existed in this electrifying moment.

As he slipped it off your foot, he leaned in closer, lifting your leg gently. You could feel the heat radiating from his body as he pressed a soft kiss to your ankle, his lips warm against your skin. The sensation sent a shiver up your spine, and you could barely contain the gasp that escaped your lips.

Sunghoon pulled back slightly, his smirk widening as he caught sight of the goosebumps that had formed along your leg. “Did that feel good?” he teased, his voice low and filled with mischief.

You could only nod, overwhelmed by the mix of sensations coursing through you. The way he was looking at you, combined with his gentle touch, was driving you wild. He leaned back in, his lips brushing against your skin once more, trailing slow, deliberate kisses up the length of your calf, his touch featherlight yet searing against your skin. Each press of his mouth sent another wave of heat rolling through you, making it harder to focus on anything but the way he was worshipping you with every movement. When he reached your knee, he lingered, his breath hot against the sensitive skin there, before placing a final, lingering kiss just above it.

Then, he stopped. He straightened to his full height, towering over you once more, his eyes locked onto yours in a way that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. He looked at you like he was taking in every detail, every reaction, every silent plea hidden behind your parted lips.

“Stand up,” he murmured, his voice smooth but firm.

You hesitated for only a second before obeying, your body moving before your mind could catch up. As you rose to your feet, the space between you crackled with tension, the air thick with anticipation. Sunghoon stepped behind you, his presence overwhelming without even touching you. The warmth of his body was right there, just close enough to make your skin tingle, just far enough to make you ache for more.

“Turn around,” he instructed, and you felt the heat in his voice as you complied, slowly pivoting until your back was to him.

You held your breath, heart hammering in your chest as you felt his fingers brush over your shoulder, grazing the strap of your dress. He didn’t rush—no, he was taking his time, savoring every second. You could feel his breath ghosting over the nape of your neck, the sensation sending a delicious shudder through you.

His fingers trailed down the length of your spine, following the fabric of your dress as he reached for the zipper. But before he pulled it down, he leaned in closer, his lips just barely brushing against the shell of your ear.

Sunghoon’s breath was warm against your ear, the tension between you thick enough to drown in. His fingers toyed with the zipper of your dress for a moment before he leaned in, his lips brushing over your skin as he spoke, voice low and dripping with amusement.

“Can I?” he murmured, his tone edged with something dark, something hungry, and you nodded.

And then, with a swift, decisive motion, he dragged the zipper down, the sound slicing through the silence. Your dress loosened instantly, slipping off your shoulders, the fabric pooling at your feet like it had simply given up under his touch.

Sunghoon took a small step back, just enough to take you in. His gaze darkened as it roamed over you, lingering on the deep blue lingerie that now stood between him and everything he wanted. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips, and his smirk deepened.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, almost to himself. “Did you wear this for me?”

Before you could answer, he was already moving, his lips pressing against your bare shoulder, slow and deliberate, like he was marking his territory. His hands traced the curves of your waist before gripping your hips, pulling you back against him so you could feel exactly how much he wanted you.

“You like teasing me, don’t you?” he mused between kisses, his mouth trailing up the side of your neck, making you shudder. “Wearing something like this, knowing I’d see it.” His teeth grazed your skin, and you gasped, your body instinctively pressing closer. Sunghoon chuckled, clearly pleased with himself. “I think you like being caught.”

His hands slid over your stomach before he turned you around in one fluid motion. The second your eyes met his, you reached for the buttons of his shirt, fingers working quickly, desperate to even the playing field. But you barely made it to the middle of his torso before Sunghoon caught your wrists, halting your movements.

His gaze was sharp, his smirk downright sinful. “Did I say you could take my shirt off?” he asked, tilting his head. “Good girls ask first.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a split second, all you could do was stare at him, heart pounding, lips parting in surprise.

The moment stretched between you for a beat—then, before you could react, Sunghoon pushed you back onto the bed. You barely had time to process the way your body sank into the mattress before he was over you, one hand braced beside your head, the other gripping your thigh, spreading you open beneath him.

His smirk was gone now. What replaced it was something darker, something dangerously close to pure need.

“Now,” he murmured, eyes locked onto yours. “Let’s see if you can be good for me after all.”

Sunghoon hovered over you, his body pressing into yours, his breath fanning against your lips, but still—still—he hadn’t kissed you yet. His eyes burned into yours, his fingers tracing lazy circles against your thigh, teasing, withholding, making you squirm beneath him.

You were done waiting. You reached up, fingers threading through his hair, tugging him down—but before your lips could meet, he let out a quiet chuckle, his mouth barely ghosting over yours.

“Impatient, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice laced with amusement, with knowing.

You didn’t get a chance to respond, because in the next second, his lips finally crashed against yours, swallowing the air from your lungs. The kiss was nothing short of devastating.

His mouth moved against yours with an urgency that left you dizzy, like he’d been starving for this as much as you had. He didn’t hold back—he kissed you deep, kissed you like he wanted to ruin you, his hands tangling in your hair as he tilted your head back, demanding more, taking more.

You melted into him, nails digging into his back as his tongue slid against yours, slow and deliberate at first, then more intense, more desperate. His teeth grazed your lower lip before he sucked it between his own, drawing a soft whimper from you. That sound only seemed to spur him on.

His hands roamed lower, gripping your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, like he was trying to fuse you together. The weight of him, the way he pressed into you with every shift of his body, had your head spinning.

Your fingers found their way to his shirt again, fumbling with the buttons, desperate to get it off, to feel his skin against yours. But just as you started to undo another one, Sunghoon suddenly grabbed your wrists, stopping you in your tracks.

His lips were swollen, his breathing uneven, but his voice was firm as he said, “What did I just say?”

You blinked up at him, dazed. “What?”

“I told you to ask first.” His voice dropped lower, more authoritative. His grip on your wrists tightened just slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to make you feel it.

Heat flooded through you, your breath catching at the way he looked at you—so in control, so effortlessly dominant. Still, you couldn’t help the whiny edge that crept into your voice. “But I—”

“Don’t start,” he cut you off, his tone sharp. His fingers traced down your arm, featherlight, sending a shiver through you. “You’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you?”

You swallowed hard, your heartbeat hammering in your ears. His words, his tone—it had you falling silent, something deep inside you tightening in response. Sunghoon’s smirk deepened, like he could see the exact moment you surrendered to him.

“Good girl,” he murmured, then leaned down, his lips crashing into yours again. This time, it was even more intense.

His kiss was all-consuming, leaving no space for hesitation. He devoured you, his tongue sliding against yours, slow but deliberate, like he was savoring every second. His hands roamed over your body, fingers digging into your waist, your hips, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get enough.

Then, suddenly, he pulled back. Still straddling you, Sunghoon shifted, moving up onto his knees. His hands went to the buttons of his shirt, and your breath caught as you watched him slowly undo them one by one. You lifted yourself slightly, propping up on your elbows, eyes locked onto him, completely transfixed. The way his fingers moved, the slow reveal of his toned chest—it was hypnotizing, addictive.

He caught you staring, smirking. You swallowed, your cheeks burning, but you didn’t look away. Then he paused, his fingers still on the last few buttons. His gaze met yours, dark and unreadable. “Ask.”

Your lips parted slightly, your breath shaky as you whispered, “Can I touch you, Hoon?”

For a second, he just stared at you, like he was drinking in the way you looked—needy, desperate, completely at his mercy. Then, finally, he gave a small nod. You wasted no time. Your hands reached out, fingers sliding against his skin as you slowly pushed his shirt open. Your touch was soft, reverent, tracing over his chest, his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips.

You leaned forward, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his chest as you worked on the last of the buttons, your lips trailing down the hard planes of his body, tasting him, feeling every flex of his muscles under your touch. The shirt slipped off his shoulders, falling to the bed, forgotten.

Your hands moved lower, gliding over his abs, down to the waistband of his pants. Your breath hitched as you hesitated there, glancing up at him, waiting, asking without words. His eyes darkened. Without a word, he reached down, fingers curling under your chin, tilting your face up. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, slow, teasing.

“You look so pretty like this,” he murmured, voice thick with amusement, with something deeper. His thumb pressed just slightly against your lip, feeling the way it parted under his touch. “So obedient.”

A shiver ran down your spine. You swallowed hard, your entire body buzzing under his touch. Sunghoon tilted his head slightly, still toying with your bottom lip beneath his thumb. “Tell me what you want.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. Your face felt like it was on fire, but you forced the words out, even if your voice came out softer than you intended. “I want you.”

Something dark flashed in his gaze, his smirk widening as if he’d been waiting to hear that. He straightened up, stepping back slightly until he was standing at the edge of the bed, looking down at you.

“Then be a good girl and get on your knees for me.”

A fresh wave of heat surged through you at his words. You shifted, moving carefully until you were kneeling at the edge of the bed, looking up at him, heart racing in anticipation.

Sunghoon’s smirk never faltered. He let you settle into position before speaking again. “Take them off.” Your hands moved almost on their own, reaching for his belt, fingers fumbling slightly from the sheer tension in the air. You undid the buckle, the soft clinking sound loud in the otherwise quiet room. The button came next, then the zipper, your fingertips grazing the warm skin of his lower abdomen as you tugged the fabric down.

You took your time, dragging his pants down inch by inch, your fingers brushing against the firm muscles of his thighs, your breath coming out uneven as more of him was revealed to you. The air between you felt heavy, thick with anticipation, as the fabric slipped lower, pooling around his ankles.

Now, he was standing over you in nothing but his boxers, the outline of him straining against the fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination. Your mouth went dry. Heat coiled low in your stomach, an intoxicating mix of arousal and the sheer intensity of the moment.

Sunghoon let out a low chuckle at your expression, dark amusement dancing in his eyes. He reached down, his fingers tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “What’s wrong, baby?” His voice was a slow, teasing drawl, dripping with amusement, with control.

You weren’t sure if it was his tone, the way he looked at you, or the fact that you could feel his heat, inches away from your lips, but you felt dizzy. Your breath shuddered as you leaned in, your lips hovering just over the hard outline beneath his boxers, your eyes flicking up to meet his again, filled with nothing but quiet submission.

Sunghoon hummed, his smirk deepening. “Uh-uh.” His fingers traced along the side of your face before sliding into your hair, gripping it lightly. “You have to ask first, baby.”

Your stomach clenched. The grip in your hair wasn’t tight, but it was firm enough to remind you who was in charge. Your lips parted, voice coming out softer than you intended. “Please, Hoon…”

His expression remained unchanged, feigning innocence. “Please what?”

You swallowed, your heart hammering as you tilted your head, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss against his lower abdomen. His scent overwhelmed you, making you lightheaded. Your hands lifted to his hips, playing with the hem of his boxers, teasing the waistband between your fingers. “Let me take these off.”

Sunghoon inhaled slowly through his nose, looking down at you with heavy-lidded eyes. The hand in your hair tightened slightly, tilting your head back further. “Say please.”

You exhaled shakily, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please.”

Something flickered in his gaze—satisfaction, control. It was a look that sent another wave of heat rushing through you, making your entire body feel hyperaware of the moment. The way he loomed over you, his chest rising and falling steadily, the grip he still had in your hair—it all made you feel small in the best possible way. Then, his smirk returned, slow and knowing, his head tilting just slightly as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip, pressing down lightly, testing you. “Go ahead, baby.”

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his boxers, and you took your time, dragging the fabric down slowly, purposefully, letting your nails graze against his hips as you went. As soon as he was bare, your breath hitched. You felt lightheaded with anticipation, the heat pooling low in your stomach tightening at the sight of him, already so hard for you. Sunghoon was big.

Your lips parted, a quiet, shaky breath escaping as you immediately leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the base of his cock. His grip in your hair tightened, his chest rising with a sharp inhale as you trailed your lips up his length, your tongue tracing the prominent vein that ran along the side.

“Fuck.” His voice came out low, wrecked, his head tipping back just slightly before his gaze returned to you, dark and heavy-lidded.

You took your time, your tongue teasing him with deliberate, languid licks, savoring the weight of him, the warmth of his skin against your mouth. Sunghoon’s breathing grew heavier, his fingers tightening in your hair as he guided you subtly, his hips barely shifting forward, making you gasp.

“Just like that, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with approval. “So fucking good.”

The praise only fueled you, made you more eager, more desperate to please. You wrapped your lips around him, taking him in slowly, inch by inch, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked. His reaction was immediate—a sharp exhale through his nose, his jaw clenching, his grip tightening just enough to make you whimper.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his thumb tracing your lower lip again when you pulled back slightly, your lips slick and swollen. “So fucking eager, huh?”

You nodded, your breath coming in shallow, uneven pants, your pupils blown wide as you looked up at him, your lips slick and swollen. He shook his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips as his fingers tightened in your hair, guiding you back down. You leaned in again, parting your lips and taking him in, slow and deliberate at first, before hollowing your cheeks and sucking, letting your tongue drag along the underside of his cock, feeling the way he pulsed under your touch. His breathing hitched, a quiet curse slipping from his lips as his hand flexed in your hair.

“Fuck, just like that,” he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. “You take me so well, baby. Such a good fucking girl.”

The praise only made you more eager, made you want to pull more sounds from him, made you want to push him further. Your hands gripped at his thighs as you moved, setting a steady pace, swallowing around him, letting out soft little moans that you knew would drive him insane. His hips twitched, just barely holding himself back from thrusting into your mouth.

Then, suddenly, his grip in your hair tightened sharply, pulling you back with a swift, firm motion. Your lips slipped from his cock with a soft, wet pop, and you blinked up at him, dazed, your mind foggy with the haze of arousal. Confusion flickered in your expression, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you searched his face, but he only smirked at you, his gaze dark and heavy-lidded.

Without a word, he let go of your hair and moved, shifting back onto the bed, sitting against the headboard, his legs spread lazily apart like he had all the time in the world. He propped an arm behind his head, watching you with an almost lazy amusement, like he was enjoying every second of making you wait.

Then, his voice cut through the thick silence. “Take those off for me.”

Your stomach clenched at his tone—low, commanding, expectant. You swallowed, nodding as you slowly got to your feet, standing at the edge of the bed as you reached for the straps of your bra.

Sunghoon’s gaze never left you, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he watched, his dark eyes flickering with anticipation. You dragged the straps down your shoulders, letting the fabric slip down inch by inch, revealing your bare chest. His smirk widened as he caught sight of it, his eyes darkening, his fingers flexing against his thigh. You let your underwear pool at your feet, and you could feel the hunger in his expression, the way his fingers twitched like he was resisting the urge to reach out and grab you.

Then, he tilted his head, patting his thigh once, his voice smooth, teasing. “Come here, pretty.”

Your breath hitched, your skin prickling with anticipation as you moved towards him, crawling onto the bed, your movements slow and deliberate, almost feline, like you were savoring every second of this.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice nothing but smooth approval. “So fucking pretty for me.”

The moment you were close enough, his hands found your waist, his grip firm, possessive—grounding you even as the rest of your body buzzed with anticipation. You hovered over him, your palms pressed against his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the steady, strong rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your touch. His fingers dragged along your sides, slow and deliberate, like he was committing every inch of you to memory, like he had no intention of rushing this.

And then he saw it. A darkened mark blooming against your collarbone, the unmistakable imprint of lips and teeth that weren’t his.

Sunghoon stilled, his smirk curling at the edges as his fingers ghosted over the bruise. Amusement flickered in his eyes as he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I knew he was going to mark you…” His voice was soft, teasing, but there was something else beneath it—something darker, something claiming.

Before you could respond, his lips were on you, tracing slow, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin. He took his time, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot before sinking his teeth in just enough to make you shudder.

“And I knew you were gonna let him,” he murmured against your skin, voice thick with amusement. His lips moved higher, grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “You can’t control yourself, can you?”

A sharp smack landed on your ass before you could process his words. You gasped, the sting spreading deliciously through your skin, and your eyes shot to him in shock, only to find him already watching you, biting down a smirk. He tilted his head slightly, gaze dark, knowing. “You like that, huh?” His fingers kneaded at the spot, soothing the burn even as his smirk grew.

Your breath hitched, the heat in your stomach curling even tighter. You swallowed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”

Sunghoon let out a soft, breathy laugh, his hand squeezing your waist, grounding you as he pulled you closer. “I knew you were dirty like this.”

And then his lips were on you again, but this time, lower. He kissed down the valley between your breasts, slow and teasing, his tongue darting out to taste your skin before he bit down gently, sucking another mark into your flesh. His hands smoothed over your thighs, squeezing, gripping, before sliding up to cup your chest, his thumbs brushing over your already hardened nipples.

He took his time with you, savoring every reaction, every little gasp, every arch of your body against him. It was intoxicating, the way he could pull sounds from you with just his mouth, just his hands. You whimpered as he dragged his tongue over your sensitive skin, your hips involuntarily rolling against his stomach, seeking friction, seeking anything.

His grip on your hips tightened instantly, stilling your movements. “Behave,” he said, his voice low, commanding, a warning.

A thrill shot through you at his tone, at the weight of his control, but you weren’t ready to submit just yet. You met his gaze, tilting your head slightly, feigning innocence. “Or what?”

His smirk widened, slow, almost lazy, like he was waiting for you to say that. Like he’d been hoping you would. “Oh, sweetheart…” His fingers dug into your skin, his voice dropping into something deeper, darker, full of promise. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Before you could process, he moved. A sharp gasp left your lips as Sunghoon flipped you onto the mattress in one swift, effortless motion, pinning your body beneath him. His hands were on you immediately—strong, commanding, securing your wrists above your head with ease. His grip was firm, his body caging you in, leaving you completely at his mercy.

Your chest rose and fell in uneven breaths as you stared up at him, wide-eyed, your skin burning everywhere he touched. His gaze was dark, filled with something primal, something almost dangerous. And then he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in the lightest of touches before he bit down on your lower lip, sharp enough to make you whimper.

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest as he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his breath fanning over your lips. “What do you want?” His voice was deep, teasing, dripping with control.

Your body arched instinctively, your thighs squeezing together in desperate search of relief, but you couldn’t move—not with the way he had you pinned so effortlessly beneath him. A whimper escaped you, but no words followed. Sunghoon smirked.

His grip on your wrists shifted, securing them in one hand, while his free hand trailed down your jaw, his fingers gripping your chin with just enough force to make you shiver. He tilted your face up, forcing you to meet his eyes, his thumb brushing slowly over your parted lips.

“Tell me,” he murmured, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

Your breath hitched, your body writhing under him, and when you finally spoke, your voice was barely above a whisper. “Fuck me, Sunghoon.”

He hummed, tilting his head, pretending to think. “Didn’t quite hear you, baby.” His hips lowered, the tip of his cock brushing against your entrance, teasing, taunting, making you gasp. Your entire body trembled beneath him, the ache inside you growing unbearable.

A frustrated whine left your lips, your voice turning desperate, pleading. “I want you to fuck me, Sunghoon.”

He let out a dark, satisfied chuckle. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

Before you could take another breath, his hand was between your legs, fingers gliding through your wetness, spreading you open. The teasing circles he drew over your clit made your thighs shake, your body twitching at every deliberate, calculated movement.

“Fuck,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. His fingers pressed down harder, rubbing slow, languid strokes that sent shocks of pleasure straight to your core. “You’re so wet for me, baby.”

You whimpered, your back arching against his touch. “Don’t tease me, please… I need you.”

Sunghoon smirked against your skin, his lips brushing the spot just beneath your ear before he murmured, “I need to prep you first.” His fingers dipped lower, sliding between your folds, teasing at your entrance. “Don’t want to hurt my pretty girl.” His voice was soft, almost affectionate. He lets go of your wrists, and you hold on to his arms.

His fingers slipped inside you with ease, stretching you open, filling you in a way that had your back arching off the mattress. A choked moan escaped your lips, your fingers curling into the sheets beneath you as Sunghoon worked you open, his movements slow at first—teasing, purposeful.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmured, watching your face closely, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “So fucking good for me.”

His fingers moved faster, deeper, the lewd sounds of your wetness filling the room, only fueling the fire in his darkened gaze. Your thighs trembled, your body tightening around him, the pressure in your stomach coiling impossibly tight. He could feel it—how close you were. And he wanted to push you over that edge.

“Tell me…” His voice was low, almost a growl, as his fingers pumped into you with merciless precision. “Did he treat you nice like this?”

Your mind was hazy, the pleasure consuming you whole. You couldn’t even form words, couldn’t respond—all you could do was moan, your nails digging into his forearm as his pace quickened.

Sunghoon clicked his tongue, shaking his head with mock disapproval. “Can’t answer me?” His free hand came up, gripping your jaw, forcing your eyes to meet his. His thumb dragged along your swollen lips, smearing the drool that had gathered there. “You’re so fucking eager, aren’t you? Wanting two cocks at the same time… so greedy.”

His words sent a new wave of heat through your body, shame and arousal intertwining in a way that made you squirm beneath him. “But I’m gonna ruin you for every other man,” he murmured darkly, leaning down, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “You hear me?”

The coil inside you snapped, your orgasm crashing over you so intensely that you couldn’t do anything but cry out his name, your thighs trembling, your body convulsing beneath him as you unraveled onto his fingers.

Sunghoon groaned, watching you fall apart with hooded eyes, completely mesmerized. Slowly, he pulled his fingers from your soaked heat, bringing them up to his lips before slipping them into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them, savoring the taste of you.

“You taste so fucking good,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with desire.

You barely had time to recover, your body still trembling in the aftershocks, before he was positioning himself in front of you, his cock in hand, the tip already leaking against your entrance.

He looked at you then—really looked at you. Your eyes were dazed, pupils blown wide, lips parted as you gazed up at him with a look that made his breath hitch.

“Are you okay?” His voice was softer now, a hint of something almost tender behind the rough dominance he exuded. You nodded quickly, biting your lip, anticipation swirling in your stomach as you ached to feel him inside you. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he murmured, stroking your thigh, his restraint evident in the tension in his muscles.

Sunghoon was big, and the mere thought of him stretching you open made you whimper. You looked up at him with wide, needy eyes, an innocent expression that only fueled the hunger in his gaze. His jaw clenched, his fingers tightening around your thigh.

“Fuck,” he muttered, dragging the tip of his cock over your clit, rolling it in slow circles, making your body twitch beneath him. “You’re so fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?” You could only nod, your breath hitching, your body strung so tight that you thought you might go insane if he didn’t fill you soon.

“Tell me if you need me to stop,” he murmured, his voice slightly strained, as if he was holding himself back. You nodded again, appreciating the gentleness beneath his roughness, the way he still cared even while acting completely in control.

And then, finally, he pushed in—the thick head of his cock stretching you open, sinking into you inch by inch. Your body clenched around him, the feeling overwhelming, pleasure spreading through you like fire.

Your eyes rolled back, a moan slipping past your lips as you let your head fall completely against the bed, your hands gripping onto his strong biceps, needing something to ground you.

Sunghoon groaned lowly, watching the way your body took him, the way you squeezed around him so perfectly. “Fuck, baby,” he muttered, his voice strained, his control hanging by a thread. “You feel so fucking tight.”

His grip on your thigh was possessive, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he slowly pushed inside you, stretching you open inch by inch. The slow, deliberate pace was maddening, the tease unbearable, but he seemed to revel in it—watching the way your body reacted to him, the way your lips parted in breathless moans, the way your fingers clawed at his biceps, desperate for more.

Your forehead pressed against his, both of you breathing heavily, lost in the intoxicating heat of each other’s touch. The room felt electric, the air thick with tension, every sound amplified—the slick slide of him moving inside you, the breathy whimpers escaping your lips, the deep, guttural moans he let out every time your walls clenched around him.

His hold tightened, fingers bruising as he gripped the back of your thigh, spreading you wider for him, as if he wanted to claim every inch of you. His lips ghosted over yours, teasing, never quite kissing you, just breathing you in, his warm breath fanning over your flushed skin.

“You’ve been wanting this, haven’t you?” His voice was a dark whisper against your lips. You could only nod, completely lost in the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. “Say it.” His hips rolled forward, a deep thrust that had your eyes rolling back, your nails scratching down his toned back.

“I—” You gasped, barely able to form words. “I wanted this so bad.”

Sunghoon groaned, his self-control slipping as he pulled back slightly before snapping his hips forward again, burying himself deeper inside you. The stretch burned in the best way possible, a delicious ache that made your head spin. He was so big, filling you to the brim, making you feel completely owned, completely his.

His pace was still torturously slow, but each thrust was deep, deliberate, making you feel every inch of him. He watched your face intently, taking in every reaction, every twitch of your brows, every gasp and moan that tumbled from your lips.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his hand trailing up your body, fingers wrapping around your throat, just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. “So fucking desperate.” You whimpered, your hands flying up to grasp at his wrist, not to pull him away but to hold onto him, to ground yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

His thumb dragged over your lower lip, pressing against the soft flesh before slipping into your mouth. “Suck.” You obeyed without thinking, lips wrapping around his thumb, tongue swirling over the pad of it as you gazed up at him with glassy eyes. “Fuck,” he muttered, his restraint snapping.

He pulled his thumb from your mouth, replacing it with his lips as he kissed you with a hunger that left you breathless. His pace quickened, hips slamming into yours with a force that made the bed creak beneath you.

The shift in tempo had you gasping, whimpering against his mouth, your legs wrapping around his waist, heels digging into his lower back, pulling him in deeper. The room was filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the rhythmic, wet sounds of him fucking into you, mixed with your broken moans and his deep, raspy groans.

“You take me so fucking well,” he praised, his lips dragging down your jaw, to the curve of your neck, where he sucked and nipped, leaving his mark. “My good girl. So tight. So perfect.”

Your body arched into him, every nerve ending ignited, your head spinning with pleasure. You could feel it building again—that familiar, fiery coil in your stomach, tightening with every thrust, with every filthy word he whispered into your ear.

“Sunghoon—” You gasped, hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “I’m—” He groaned, sensing exactly how close you were.

“Not yet,” he growled, pulling out almost completely before slamming back inside you, his pace relentless now, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing in tight circles that had you trembling. “You’re gonna cum when I say you can, baby.”

You whined, body betraying you, your walls fluttering around him, your muscles locking up as you teetered on the edge of oblivion. “Hold it.” His voice was dark, commanding, but his own resolve was slipping. He was close too, his thrusts growing erratic, deeper, harder.

You couldn’t. You physically couldn’t. Your body was on fire, your mind blank, pleasure consuming you whole. “Sunghoon, please,” you sobbed, shaking beneath him.

His hand wrapped around your throat again, squeezing just enough to send you spiraling, his voice a breathy groan as he finally gave you permission.

“Cum for me.”

And you did.

Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, so intense it stole the breath from your lungs, your vision blurring as your body convulsed beneath him. Your walls clenched around him, pulsing, milking him for everything he had.

“Fuck—” Sunghoon groaned, his movements growing sloppy, his grip tightening as he buried himself deep inside you, his own release hitting him like a freight train. His body tensed, his cock throbbing as he spilled inside you, filling you with warmth, his breath ragged against your ear.

The room was silent except for the sound of heavy breathing, both of you completely spent, bodies tangled together in the sheets. Sunghoon pressed lazy kisses to your jaw, your collarbone, your lips, his touch softer now, almost gentle.

Your body felt weightless, as if you were floating in the haze of pleasure that still clung to you, leaving you warm and blissfully dazed. Your limbs were heavy, spent, but his touch—gentle, soothing—kept you tethered to reality.

“You okay?” Sunghoon murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion, but still laced with concern. His fingers found your face, brushing away the damp strands of hair sticking to your forehead. His eyes, still dark with the remnants of desire, softened when they met yours.

You nodded weakly, your body still buzzing, your mind slow to catch up. He smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, slow and tender, as if savoring the taste of you, before rolling onto his back and pulling you with him. Your body draped over his chest, his warmth seeping into you, anchoring you in a way that made you want to stay like this forever.

His fingers traced absentminded patterns along the bare skin of your back—slow, lazy circles, up and down your spine, making you shiver despite the heat radiating from his body. His other hand, rough yet careful, brushed over your arm, then your waist, like he couldn’t bear to stop touching you, like he needed to remind himself that you were still there, tangled up with him in the sheets.

A deep sigh left his lips, his chest rising and falling steadily beneath you, the rhythm soothing, hypnotic. You pressed your cheek against his heart, listening to the soft thump, feeling the way it still raced slightly, evidence of how much he had wanted you, how much you had affected him.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it was full, heavy with unspoken words, but not in a way that begged for answers. It was enough just to be here, wrapped up in each other, breathing the same air, feeling the same warmth.

Then, after a moment, his hand came up to cup the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair, massaging your scalp in slow, rhythmic motions. A small hum of pleasure escaped you at the comforting sensation, making him chuckle under his breath.

“Feels good?” he murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head. You nodded again, too content to form words.

He shifted slightly, adjusting so that you were more securely nestled against him, his grip tightening as if he were afraid you might slip away. “I like this,” he admitted, voice quieter now, more raw. “Having you like this. Feels… different.”

You lifted your head slightly, just enough to look at him, your fingers trailing over his collarbone, tracing the defined lines of his chest. “Different how?”

His eyes flickered down to you, something unreadable swirling in them. His thumb stroked the curve of your hip, his lips parting slightly before he hesitated. Then, with a quiet sigh, he muttered, “I don’t know. Just… good.”

Your heart clenched at the way he said it—so unguarded, so unlike the teasing, cocky Sunghoon you were used to. This was different. This was intimacy in its purest form, something unspoken lingering between the two of you, too fragile to name, but too strong to ignore. You pushed yourself up slightly, just enough to hover over him, your fingers still lazily tracing along his chest. “You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered. “I get it.”

His gaze searched yours for a moment before he exhaled, a slow smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He reached up, brushing his knuckles against your cheek before guiding your lips back down to his. This kiss was different from before—no urgency, no hunger, just something soft, something deeper. He kissed you like he was trying to memorize you, like he wanted to leave a piece of himself behind in every press of his lips against yours.

You melted into him, sighing into the kiss, your hands coming up to frame his face, fingers tangling in his hair as he pulled you even closer. He kissed you slowly, taking his time, as if you had all the time in the world.

When he finally pulled away, his lips lingered against yours, his breath warm as he murmured, “Next time…” You swallowed, waiting, your body already shivering at the thought of what he might say next. “…I’m not letting you off so easy.” His voice was teasing, but the promise behind it sent a thrill down your spine.

You bit your lip, a lazy smile playing on your lips before leaning in to press a soft kiss against the sharp line of his jaw. “I think I’d like that,” you whispered, the tease in your voice making Sunghoon let out a low, satisfied chuckle.

Without a word, he pulled you in closer, rolling onto his side until your back was flush against his chest, his arms wrapping around your waist with a possessive kind of ease. His hand smoothed over your stomach, fingertips tracing light patterns against your skin, grounding himself in the warmth of you.

He buried his face in your hair, inhaling deeply, and for a second, he just held you there—basking in the way you fit so perfectly against him. The thought crossed his mind, unbidden, that he liked having you like this, wrapped up in him, safe in his arms.

But he’d never admit that.

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author's note: SOOOOO.... LMAOOOOO READER IS THIS YOU RN?????

my best friend read this chapter and absolutely lost her mind so i’m taking that as a good sign LMAO also sorry for the length, i know it’s longer than usual but hopefully it’s worth it 👀

this is only the second smut scene i’ve ever written and i can’t believe it actually turned out good??? like hello since when do i have this talent i’m actually shook. anyway, i’m gonna take a little longer than usual to post the next update, so savor this one while you can 😌 BYEEEEE

taglist: @jayparked @jungwonsstrawberriesnchocolate @kixri @soobnuuy @dreamiestay @somuchdard @nyyoryyu @atinyrosedoor @enhaverse713586 @miszes @wildtigerlili @hoonkishoe @wilonevys @m1dn1ghtv1olet @who-tf-soddhi @ilovewonyo @nickiminajleftasscheek @ikeulove @payformycoffeeandleave @jvngw0nlvr @qtke @nikirangs @rairaiblog @tinyteezer @catecita @aespaqq @cyberstephzz @jakesimfromstatefarm @maniluvzyou @stormy1408 @missychief1404 @heevrs @shuichi-sama @enhastars @immelissaaa @pjselee @hexnoia @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @love-4-keum @doublebunv @minfolio @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @doveblackboat @psychotic-girl-666 @kukkurookkoo @allie-mcginn @jkslvsnella @wintereals @why4anne @jakesfurry

[wortsandall]

YES THE SEX THING !!! it bothers me so much but i see it less so i didn't mention it. but like jazz is friendly and charismatic and his whole thing is music, so i feel like people have this idea in their head that those traits automatically = a nymphomaniac or something.

which would be fine on its own as a standalone context but in context for jazz-it does become an issue because of the connotations of a black coded character being written that way.

especially since jazz has not been depicted like that in any media that has him in it (as far as im aware) so it's an authors personal choice to add this in there for essentially the reason of...? why?

its NOT a jazz character trait. as far as i've seen anyway as i haven't seen every jazz character ever written but i also feel like if he was intended to be seen like that, they'd have no problem doing that. other characters have been written to be like that-there's jokes about certain characters flirting with earth cars and stuff. i mean knock out's entire vibe is tf prime is something like that with his voice, he canonized interface as a cybertronian word for sex, borderline flirting with starscream, etc...

where the nuance comes in here is that there's nothing wrong with a headcanon. and people can headcanon jazz to be like that. and theres nothing inherently wrong with being a flirt and liking sex, whatever.

it just becomes odd that this trait ive only ever seen be added to jazz and never anyone else. and the way its written 50% of the time is completely the 'black guy with a big dick he loves to swing around' stereotype that makes me click off.

(i read one where because jazz is a spy its mentioned he's had to rape people for interrogation purposes before and i immediately clicked off because what the hell are you talking about ???? it felt completely out of place. i guess you could write a story in which that happens-i've got zero issues with dark fic.

but using jazz of all people? i didn't like that. i know jazz is a spy and he's done bad shit before but i just couldn't believe in that.

its the whole 'he wouldn't fucking say that' thing. because people can do whatever they want (all i'm asking is to be a little more socially aware of stereotyping) but ultimately when you're writing fic and you want it to be in character you have to write a set of circumstances that would make a character actually say that. throwing it into a fic that is ultimately the same universe with the same circumstances just slightly tweaked is not enough of a circumstance to make me believe that he would do that to interrogate people. its bad out of character writing. but this is a tangent)

this is getting long (sorry!) but basically yes the "jazz is a beast in the sheets and needs sex 24/7 and we'll talk about every type of past relationship he's ever had and also did you know he's had sex with EVERYONE on the ark" is something that i find so distasteful. because its not jazz.

when i read the idw comics and saw jazz i did not see what these writers were seeing. and it feels like a purposeful choice to see him like that versus the guy he actually is. im not an expert but he's just a charming musician who's pretty laid back and uses that as an advantage for a spy stuff sometimes.

i don't think it's really an act that he's a generally nice dude who just also has the whole "i got to do what needs to be done thing prowl has" but he actually does feel guilt (which is why i don't think he would ever take an interrogation far enough to rape somebody jesus christ) and he does let emotion get in the way like when he killed that guy on earth.

its feels off putting to turn the guy i described above into the type of guy that would:

- continue to flirt with prowl after being rejected over and over again (comes up a lot in jazzprowl)

-disrespect boundaries/be sexually aggressive in general

-talk about sex all the time even when inappropriate

-run off to jerk off or have inappropriately timed sex

all things ive seen across various different fics. and if you want to write jazz that way you better create a set of circumstances that makes me believe it. because throwing it into tf animated of all continuities (as an example) just make me immediately side eye your priorities

tldr; the jazz sex fiend trend does bother me. i don't think writing him that way or enjoying him written that way automatically makes you racist. but i do encourage people to explore any subconscious bias they may have because that trait doesn't make sense for jazz. especially if you want to write in character jazz fics.

in the spirit of honesty...the way some of yall write jazz in transformers fanfic is honestly appalling. it screams ive never met a black person in my life. it screams i watched michael bays 2007 transformers and took notes, as if the bayverse hasnt been criticized for its terrible stereotyping.

yes, he has an accent. yes, he uses slang. but jesus christ. his usage is not as egregious as yall write it. yall write him like hes stupid and uneducated. the ultimate caricature of a black man. its super insulting.

and i get that he's not actually black due to not being human but he is black coded and the treatment is abysmal at times.

my advice? JUST WRITE DIALOGUE. our brains do the rest. i know what he sounds like, i can fill it in myself.

stop writing "ay, ya sure ya got shit handled, fam'? bro, i 'aint no fool, i gots that dog n' me."

ESPECIALLY BC JAZZ HAS NEVER. SPOKEN LIKE THAT ANYWAY.

sincerely, a (very) frustrated black person.

[strungnews]

Being in a polycule with Mark Grayson and Eve Wilkins is weird.

The two never really thought about it, hell, never really thought about anyone else romantically besides each other. They are quite literally, a power couple! But at the same time how could they fall in love with someone who they all got bad first impressions from?

(Fair warning I started rambling about this on the 22nd and ive been distracted with other content so it might be inaccurate and not up to date with the new upcoming eps! Sorry! 4k+ words oof)

When did you first meet?

Mark Grayson: First spotted at the convention, where you served as a temporary helping hand to one of your close friends who ran a free fix it portable station that helped aid costume malfunctions for cosplayers. You were a jack of all trades and a master of none. An average grade student, who participated as little and as much activities as one felt like, nothing really piquing your interest at any capacity to fully commit to it. Badminton, swim team, volleyball, chess, journalism, art, sewing. The talents and passion you had for it all were mediocre at best, but useful when the situation called for it.

Need an extra player in your team? You won't willingly volunteer, but if there was no other choice, so be it. Someone needing help on their swim technique? You've gotten more ear infections than you could count all because of swimming, several visits to the doctor and ear drops used. But an advice or two wouldn't hurt.

It just so happened you held a bit of liking to sewing, and with reluctance agreed to your friend's pleas of help for the upcoming convention day. You weren't really looking forward to helping around people who forgot to wear deodorant or were in desperate need of a shower, but he said you were splitting the tips by the end of the day. Money is money.

Mark would someyimes notice you here and there, carrying a huge clunky bag while assisting to anyone you could offer a hand to, but other than that, he said and did nothing else. He was more worried about the line for the Seance dog signing and Amber to properly pay attention. But couldn’t help gravitate towards you for some reason.

Though he does give credit where credit was due, between you and your close friend, you were a lot faster with the needle than he was. And you were only doing this for a day! But he didn't know that. Mark wouldn't lie, but he did find himself leaning over and away to look closer at your handy work whenever someone would happily walk away, almost catching his eye whenever you felt like you were being stared at more intensely than the individual you were fixing up.

His first ever person to person interaction was tainted by Mark getting distracted at the crowd of people dressed up as Invincible, before almost falling over himself and you. The supply of items you had just packed up all nice and neat now lay scattered all over the floor, going back to square one.

"Oh! Im so so sorry let me just-" "Thank you, but don't." You swat away his helping hand and turn your back to him. There he stands awkwardly, watching you silently pick up the pieces, his hand rubbing at his neck in guilt. The way you glared and spoke to him might as well had burned holes into his head till he had nothing resting atop his shoulders but charred remains.

You just ended up shoving everything back into place out of pure irritation before storming off, not sparing Mark a glance, not wanting to bother acknowledging him and getting angry for no reason.

He never noticed that you went to the same school as him before that whole interaction. All of a sudden it was like you were spawning everywhere he went, and you were non the wiser about it.

Whenever he'd walk with William and Amber, you'd be somewhere secluded with something to occupy yourself or just talking to that one guy you seemed close with. Even at the cafeteria, where you would be surrounded by people he had never seen you around with. Mostly tolerating their presence by the looks of it, only there because you were friends with one of them. Then you'd also started to hang out with Eve, which made him even more curious about you. Was Eve close with you? What was your relationship with her? Maybe he was getting a bit too nosy. Eve Wilkins: It was a lot harder to grab Eve's attention, even unintentionally. She's a busy gal, always handling this world crisis here and another there, she mostly has to focus time for herself and heroing than the people around her when she's just being Eve the student.

College wasn't all that hard for her, she was great at science and other subjects alike, a top student, Eve is.

But you weren't. In fact you were almost failing her favorite subjects. Numbers shmumbers, you hated it. And unfortunately for her, you were dumped on top of her already full plate unceremoniously when she had been pulled aside by one of the professors.

She didn't want to take it, but she didn't want a fellow student to fail a class she thought was so easy. So she hesitantly agreed, biting more than she could chew.

The event for the both of you was stressful to say the least. She was frustratingly ambiguous about her time and schedule, which clashed with your want to be punctuational, keeping interactions simply transactional. This was both stressful and moreso awkward for the two of you to go through. Eve wished you were a fast learner, but you were failing classes that involved numbers for a reason. Ouch.

Several pensive and forced smiles in the discomfort of your dorm room, each time you were told to start over or why you got this and that as an answer and formula was helping a migrane slowly develop the more time passes. She was trying her best, she really was. And you were too, you both can see the strained effort you two had put in. But by god the process was going by slow.

More breaks would occur than actual learning, before you caved and gave in first.

"I'm never getting this, am I?" Falling back to your mattress with a stiff bounce, you close your eyes and put an arm over them. Hand clenched, nails digging into the palm of your hand.

"Well, you're making progress. As slow as it is at least." You can appreciate how she still has the courtesy to be nice and sugarcoat it, but that was just making you all the more resentful of the situation.

"I just- I dont get it! How do you get this from that?" Quickly sitting up to point accusingly at the paper that lies on your soft cushions, its crumpled and dented with the amount of times you had to erase with shavings of it not too far beside.

"It's hypothetical, thats why we have assigned formulas." Eve pinches the bridge of her nose. She's exhausted and just wishes she could crash at her bed. But even the trip to the treehouse seemed tiresome to do, now contemplating if it was the best course of action to live there.

"Yes, I know! But-ugh." It feels useless, putting your hands up in defeat. "At least with science you can tell what you actually need to use. Math is all 'use your common sense', well i'm trying." Muttered through gritted teeth, you close the abused books and notebooks scattered on the bed.

It was a unified agreement to take a break and go out for a little while and get grub, blowing steam off in the process.

This goes on for two weeks, and gradually progress begins to show. You're making more sense of the subject and are putting pieces together easily than before, which used to be nothing. It was going at a snails pace, but progress is progress!

A small surprise quiz had popped up, and you answered the questions with a keen eye. Double checking, using the memorization methods Eve basically drilled into your head, a wavering air of confidence around you as you wrote.

The time for grading happened all too soon, exchanging papers to whomever was closest to you, checking one another's work before passing it back and receiving your own. Here came and greeted an unbelievably high score plastered in red ink on your paper, reading a 16/20.

You almost cried in joy with how surreal it was. It may just be a simple quiz to the others, but this was practically a milestone to you. The news was given to her, and you both felt lighter knowing you finally had it handled. As a cause for celebration, you decided to lounge in your bed and just have a time for yourself, no longer plagued with the tutors. Coming in the whole situation with Eve filled with dread, and coming out with a feeling of self reassurance.

Your time spent with Eve decreased the more time went on, which you were a bit sad about. Having considered her as a friend, but knew it was inevitable. School work is still work.

On occasion she and you would just text, maybe ask for help whether it be math or personal things, or just to reply to a stupid cat video one of you sent.

Eve did begin to notice you became a lot more confident in answering and volunteering in class, and she felt proud for you.

Meet up!

Burgermart seemed to be more sensational than before, ever since Mark decided to quit.

The place isn't as packed as other foodchain restaurants would usually be, but it seems a lot more crowded than what Mark was used to.

It was his to go to place even though he’ll be met with a few familiar faces working behind the counter, but nothing too bad.

He waits in line, orders his usual, and walks to his unofficial spot that Mark likes to sit at. Only to already be occupied with a friendly face he has met, and another not so much.

Based on the confusion on yours it’s safe to say you probably don’t remember him. Probably. Hopefully.

“Mark! Fancy seeing you here,” The two exchange hugs while you awkwardly watch, biting on your greasy burger unashamedly.

You and Eve move to the corner of each of your booths, and decidedly Mark sits next to you instead. A flash of hurt goes over her face, but disappears as soon as it came.

They’d chatter and munch on the fries left over from the burger platter of Eve’s plate, only humming noncommittally whenever you’d be dragged into the conversation, but said nothing else. Not wanting to butt in their conversation, so mulled over on why this guy’s face felt so familiar to you. But nothing pops up.

Everyone finishes up and after a few minutes all of you are standing to leave. Cleaning just a little but after yourselves to not seem rude when the workers clean up.

“I never really got your name.” Mark suddenly shifts his attention to you as the three of you walk out to the parking lot. Its already afternoon, making the weather warm a little.

“I never really gave it.” You reply back. In your head, you justify your response by chalking it up to not really knowing the guy. Sure he’s Mark, Eve’s supposed friend. But what else? What happened to stranger danger?

Eve doesn’t seem to pick up on that, and or doesn’t share the same sentiment, enthusiastically coming in to respond for you. “Remember when I said I was busy tutoring someone? Yeah? Well they’re said someone.”

“You talked about me?”

“Well, just the good bits . . . !”

Shame, embarrassment, you wish the world could swallow you up right then and there.

But you steel yourself, making sure to not make eye contact helping avoid digging your already deep grave. “Better be, or ill tell him the time you tore a hole through the papers when-“

“Okay! Okay! I get it! I promise, it wasn’t anything bad!” Her flustered state makes you laugh, slowly warming up to the both of them.

“I heard you got a high score that one time, man I wish I did too. I kind of flunked the quiz.”

“Maybe you should ask them to tutor you. They’re kind of a math whiz now dontcha think?”

The wink wink nudge nudge could not have been any more subtle.

“Shut up.”

What happens next?

So many new things in your life changed and occurred, both terrifying and exciting.

One of them was being introduced to the friend group that seemed to be ever expanding the more times you hang out with them. William was a hoot, he felt like the most normal person you could relate to. Amber was ambitious, a kind person who already had her shit figured out. And Mark? Well, hes a dweeb and a mess.

Even though you’ve been adopted into the new stray friend, you always gravitated to Eve more. She was the first person you really bothered to hold more than one sentence with. Albeit a bit forced.

Then the whole human robots occurred, you wish you could say you were there to be of help or even lend a hand, but you were dead asleep for the most part. Too busy holed up in your dorm room with work to fully enjoy the almost-adult, adult life.

Then Mark reveals his super hero persona to you, and so does Eve.

“How many know?”

“Oh, hun.” Eve puts a hand on your shoulder.

“You’re like, the last person to know. Everyone in the group practically already know.”

“What.”

You feel bitter but view them no more or less. Only asking to be taken flying at least once by one of them in exchange.

“THIS IS AWESOME!”

“Calm down I might drop you!” Eve is not surprised nor all that glad you asked her first, but feels a bit cocky about it. Another tally on whose the best super between her and Mark. Not that anyone’s counting.

★彡

It seems the two can’t catch a break. Mark especially.

Everyone’s there for Mark after the whole incident, and to further supporting his now semi-fixed relationship with Amber.

You can sense something about Eve though, but don’t pry. The way she looks at the two or how she tries to just hang out with you more to ‘get her mind off of things’ at her tree house, it was quite the tell.

“You know you can tell me anything that’s bothering you, and I wouldn’t judge you. Right?”

Eve hands a glass of soda, bubbling from the carbon dioxide. She sighs and says nothing, only opting to lean and look at the view overlooking the place.

“I know.”

Despite not being a super or wicked smart, you’re not stupid. You are Eve’s only confidant, even if you don’t get it, you sympathize with her.

Its one thing after the other with Mark and Eve. Mark comes back home with a purple baby, Eve focuses more on her studies to be an architect, things get messed up, and the secrecy continues.

Mark doesn’t get too deep into it, only ever talking to Eve about topics as heavy as that. So many . . . Events has conspired. You’re helpless to do anything to help soothe the bleeding wound. Eve says Mark just needs time, but you both know it’s not true. So, being the ever so genius you are, you offer a sleep over.

It’s a much appreciated and comforting sentiment for the whole family, they’re not sure if they want to be alone after what had conspired. But they also say nothing, keeping their mouths zipped tight.

A movie starts to play, a few hours had already passed ever since you and Eve rang the doorbell. Everyone’s huddled up at the couch, with Oliver sat in Marks lap, now crawling to Eve before reaching you at the end of the couch.

“Looks like he likes you.” Mark sounds so tired when he speaks, it’s a lot more quiet than when he usually talks, but Eve only nods in agreement.

“Yeah, babies like me for some reason. Even if I’m not a fan. But I guess since it’s Oliver..” He pulls and tugs at your clothes in curiosity, before harshly sitting himself on your stomach to face the tv. You let out an ‘oof’, which Mark and Eve laugh.

The tv plays, but its practically static to Mark’s ears, as he speaks again.

“I broke up with Amber.”

★彡

Having to be the middle of the two sided coin, you were forced to listen to the two’s complaints about one another’s crush. You wish you could just pull your hair out to get some semblance of relief with how its eating at you alive. At least William knocked some further sense into him when Mark confided in them after asking you first.

Eve? Well, she was busy. Like always.

But it was Mark this, architect that, Mark and Oliver, all that fun jazz. You couldn’t visit as often as Eve could, so she’d like to give updates.

Sometimes you feel like they’re so close to getting there, so close, until you get caught between the two again at the treehouse, seeking some you and her time till Mark showed up.

Something something future Eve, something something oh my fucking god Mark you’re screwing this up!

They both leave due to an emergency, leaving you there isolated at the treehouse.

“Great, guess ill just jump down and walk my way to the campus then!” You shout to nobody in particular.

Its about time!

Finally, the two got together.

No party no celebration, nothing big or grand. Just a small text of congratdolences, because she had to deal with Mark foreverrrr. Until an inevitable break up. Which will never happen.

Their relationship started off a bit fast, a bit rocky, but still stable. Still being at college and not possessing super human abilities, you would often video call and or gossip to them when they had the time. Catching up a lot more on things everyone would miss out since it felt like everyone lived in on different worlds.

You’d make William join in too, considering besides Eve, you were really close. But oh goodness, oh my word, he got caught up talking to his dearly beloved Rick and therefore forgot to reply!

Okay that may be a little exaggerated, but what can you do? Separated by the three people you were super close with in the span of half a year, you were getting clingy.

“Ugh, Will come on. This is the third time we’re hosting a small food get together without you, you can even bring Rick!” You’d complain while lying on your stomach in front of your laptop. Toiling away at your textbooks.

“How’s it feel to third wheel with the super couple? And plus, its finally a friday! I haven’t gotten a break in what feels like ages. Me and Rick are planning on staying in and having a movie night and falling asleep on the couch.”

“Barf. Rick this, Rick that, blah blah blah. You were so interesting when you were single!”

“Well sorry you’re the only one who’s single in the friend group.”

“Hey!”

Maybe you were a third wheel. Constantly hanging around Eve and Mark whenever they’d offer or whenever you had free time, you felt embarrassed. Especially now that you’re helping them look for an apartment —or house even— that they could possibly afford.

Being an expert in assessing many things in your life, of course your help was well needed.

“What about this one?”

“Looks… well..” Mark squints at the photo, giving it a slight once over before pursing his lips. Arms brushing up against yours as he crosses his arms and legs in faux thought.

“I know, it’s tacky, right? But I didn’t know if that was your guys’ style.” You click away to another tab, showing the place and its living conditions, plus the added bonuses it has around the areas. Nearby markets, easy access to vehicles if wanted, and a bit isolated so they went get caught super-ing.

“You saying we’re tacky?”

Ignoring Mark’s comment to your right, you shift your attention to Eve. “How about this one?”

“It’s a bit too good to be true, hows the rent?” Eve sets down on Mark’s bed with a slight bounce, leaning over to your left to sandwich you with Mark.

“Yeah about that.” You suck in hair between your teeth and move the screen as an answer, and she merely scrunches her nose.

“Man. Adulting is hard.” Mark leans his head with a thud on his headboard, before it slowly slides to the side, hovering just slightly on your shoulder.

“Tell me about it. I had to pick between saving up for the ride home or saving the cash for food.” You reply absent mindedly, tapping away at the screen with an occasional click of the laptop’s track pad.

“Imagine if you guys had another human being to deal with while you’re still trying to get your shit together? Yikes.” Shaking your head at the thought of it, makes your bones heavy with fatigue.

But Mark and Eve look over to one another with a shared look of confusion. Another person? As in . . . You’re not implying that are you?

They take you back to your campus but not before saying bye to Oliver. Even though he was just a year old, he already grew as big as a toddler. Wanting to hang out with you despite barely talking or even knowing him. It was like a baby duckling imprinting.

But Mark and Eve can’t help but think about what you said on their way home. Another person? It seems like a bit much. No?

They were already quite content on having each other, they didn’t know if the other was comfortable about the prospect of it all. But wasn’t opposite to it either.

So for now, they’d decided to tip toe around it instead.

A puzzling piece

Ever since that visit, the two have been a lot more touchy feely with you.

You dont mind honestly, chalking it up to them being a lot more friendly towards you and nothing else. Nothing more.

William and Rick start to notice too, after finally having everyone’s schedules align once in a blue moon and going out to just have some fun. They’d practically crowd you like body guards, and William and Rick would just watch, snickering to one another.

At times you do get suspicious. Eve holding your arm as you walked was nothing new, but when Mark started to initiate more physical contact with you, you’d spiral.

Of course Mark was hot, hell, Eve was too! Those were simply just facts, your best friends were attractive as hell. Who doesn’t admit that to themselves from time to time? But theyre off limits. They have each other, and you’re just you! No offense.

You couldn’t help raise a questioning brow when Mark and Eve started sitting away from each other in exchange of you being in the middle of them. Bumping shoulders, arms brushing up, hands on your back, or hair tucked behind your ear. It felt overwhelming.

So you confide in William and Rick on their behavior, receiving cryptic responses rather than actual answers instead.

“Are Eve and Mark being weird?” You’d ask, passing over your bag of chips to Rick while sucking on your straw.

“I think they’re being very obvious.” William answers dismissively waving his hand.

“Obvious? About what?”

“Oh you know, right Rick?” And he just shrugs with an awkward smile in response.

“Well has Mark said anything? Eve’s just been . . . Normal, I guess? But feels like they’re keeping something from me too.”

“Yeah, sure. Ill tell you if Mark says anything. Wink wink.” William says out loud rather than literally.

“Okay?”

Seeing as they were no help, you finally grew some and talked to Eve about it privately. No Mark, no Atom Eve or Invincible, just you and her in the a lot sturdier and built treehouse of hers.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes! Well, no.”

You spill your guts out to her, not looking in her general direction the whole time so you can actually let out the words you want to say rather than awkwardly fumbling and mumbling to yourself.

It seems Eve feels the same way, opting to look out rather than meet your own gaze. Picking at her nails at the same time.

“Do you remember when you were helping us look for apartments to live in? Before we ditched that plan and decided not to?”

“Yes . . ?”

“Then you mentioned something about another person being in our lives?”

“Another person? Since when?”

“Since when you showed us that great place! But was too out of our budget.”

“Yeah, and?”

“Well we thought. . . You were . . .”

It takes a few moments for you to make sense of it all, till Eve reaches to hold out your hand and it clicks.

“I meant having a kid! You know, white picket fence and all that!” Your face is practically hot enough to cook an egg on with her admittance.

She clears things up before Mark pops up all of a sudden. Not taking the hint of yours and Eve’s current state and inviting himself in.

“Where were you? I texted you that an hour ago and I still had no response. I got worried.”

“Crap, I think I forgot to hit send.”

Mark gets caught up in the current news, and feels like he’s made a fool of himself. Him and Eve are silently but not very subtly having a conversation about you in loud hushed whispers. Their backs turned to you and they’re holding each other’s hand in reassurance.

“Im not—Im not opposed to it though.” You say quietly, a bit hesitant to break up their conversation.

“Really?” They say in unison, perking up like excited puppies.

“I mean! If you guys’ll have me, that is.”

“We’ve been flirting with you for the past couple of months, I think we’re more than happy to.”

“You’ve been flirting?!”

“Yes, for months.”

Maybe in the near future the three of you could live in that house you found, just the three of you.

a/n: ahh i kinda hate and love this but im done so whatever just take it from me TAKE IT

btw id love to hear your thoughts and questions about this or just invincible in general teehee! planning on writing more ;P

[solarismoons]

SPOILERS FOR S2 EP7 OF SCHOOL SPIRITS

Mr. Martin rowing away with Janet is so ominous…

His acting is SO great. His mannerisms and the way he speaks is so perfect. “We deserve this.”

“It makes me sad.. That we couldn’t have gone to any of these places together.” NO one can tell me Maddie doesn’t like Wally as much as he likes her. That girl is in love.

I genuinely didn’t expect everyone to be right about Yuri and Charley! They recreated that pottery making scene!! I did not expect them to get freaky, but i’m NOT complaining.

IM GONNA SCREAM. The way Wally hooked his finger in her bra strap??? My heart is actually beating so fast..I know i’ve said this before, but the tongue is INSANE.

I love how the ghosts are having sex with each other while the living kids are literally crashing out.

I really wish we saw Quinn going into her scar for the first time… I really wonder what it would’ve looked like.

IM ACTUALLY CRYING. I did NOT expect to see Milo’s bare ass today, but DAMN… My jaw dropped to the FLOOR.

“It’s kind of hard not to think about everything that’s waiting for me here.” Ugh, don’t make me cry today PLEASE.

I’m a little surprised there was no talk of Maddie begin a virgin, since that seemed fairly important to her in the first season. I’m not complaining at all though, because WOW..

“Oh, god! I’m gonna need to guys to peel yourselves off each other and come down to the library stat.” The way Maddie nor Wally didn’t even TRY to cover up is killing me. They genuinely don’t GAF.

They were planning on torturing the other ghosts?? This just keeps getting worse and worse the more we learn.

“I’m glad it was you, too.” Please don’t make me like these two together…

‘Notice of suspension’??? God, i feel so awful for Simon. I never even thought of how this affected him. He’s missed so many classes countless times.. What about his future? He flunked that one college admission interview, too. If anything bad happens to Simon, i’m throwing a tantrum.

Oh my god… Poor Rhonda. I love her so much. Knowing she was alone with Janet and Mr. Martin for so long is just so horrifying.

I didn’t expect Dawn to be so involved! I love how she’s really not stupid or airheaded. She’s just a little eccentric. I’m so glad we got another scene with her.

This show is honestly a horror movie at this point… ‘Mr. Anderson’ being soaking wet, covered in mud with his head gushing blood walking around with a fireplace poker is terrifying. My heart is beating so fast.

Mr. Martins manipulating Janet is infuriating. I don’t even have the words to express how much I hate him.

Poor Quinn! I feel so bad. “I died knowing that everyone was mad at me.” My baby 😞💔💔.

“You can’t just leave me now.” STOP. I love them so much it hurts so bad.

I really didn’t expect Simon and Maddie to argue but it was bound to happen.

“Is this because of Wally?” I called it. I fucking called it. I KNEW this was going to come up. Kristian’s acting always gets me. I love Simon so much.

Patrick Gilmores acting is amazing. He somehow even sounds like Mr. Martin and it’s terrifying. Also, he’s lowkey hot and i’m not sorry for saying that.

Mr. Martin forcing Janet into the hellscape made me sick to my stomach.

This fandom is so smart it blows my mind. Everyone said Mr. South must know more about the scars than we had thought. I kind of thought he was just being melodramatic, but the more we saw the scars I changed my mind.

Everyone was right about the scar being Mr. Martin’s. This makes a whole lot more sense. The woman could’ve been his finance, considering the fact that we haven’t seen her before.

This episode was genuinely insane. I still haven’t even fully processed anything.

[oatmealwrites]

A Night To...Forget? Ch.6

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! F Reader

Part 5 | Part 7 -> coming soon!

[a night to forget masterlist here]

Synopsis: You take up Shōta’s offer on crashing at his place as you wait for either Kiego or maintenance to be available in the morning to let you back into your apartment. Though the extremely clean state of Shōta’s flat is enough to make you raise an eyebrow. Ok, maybe he didn't plan on having you locked out, but it certainly seems he was well prepared just in case any company happened to come over. ;)

Tags: reader is a little tipsy but not too bad, insecure shota, jealous shota, french kissing, hickies, students being a cockblock, use of quirks, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, slight cum eating, titty sucking, protected! sex, p in v, multiple rounds, missionary, doggy, mating press, shower sex, cockdrunk, pussy drunk, horny & kinky ass shota, fluff ending, still a situationship, kayama being sneaky hehe, 18+, MDNI

word count: 11.7k [im so sorry] also not entirely proofread so im sorry if the grammar/spelling is off a bit

a/n at the end: enjoy~

~~~~~~~

“You can stay with me tonight, if you want.” 

You look up from your phone the moment the words leave his lips and raise your eyebrows in shock. Shōta’s face flushes slightly and he searches your face for a few moments before sitting back in the driver’s seat and running an embarrassed hand along the back of his neck.

“N-Not like that– I didn’t take you out to dinner just to…” His voice drops a bit and he coughs slightly before speaking again with more confidence. “I don’t want you to think I’m simply offering because I want to have sex with you, y/n. I want to make sure you're safe, and not sitting on the floor of your apartment lobby all night.”

Blinking a few times, the phone screen goes dim from your lack of interaction and you gently gulp the surprise that lingers in your throat. It did sound better than waiting for Keigo or maintenance to let you inside… Though this was probably Keigo’s stupid plan all along. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol or simply just the amazing date this man has already taken you on, but you tilt your head and smile gently. “I understand… if it’s ok with you, then yes. Yes, I’d like to stay over.”

Shōta’s expression softens and he bites the inside of his cheek to avoid the cheeky smirk that wants to splay across his lips; it’s also to reign himself in when his cock twitches slightly in his trousers. He grips the steering wheel and takes a  deep breath, “Alright… then let’s head back to my place.”

The car slowly leaves the parking lot and drifts back to a main road with light evening traffic making the journey just a little longer. Within your spot at the passenger seat, the atmosphere of the car is a bit heavier than before as the radio idly plays in the background. Shōta keeps his eyes painfully respectful at the road ahead, not bothering to tear his gaze away; a complete 180 from the way he drove you to the restaurant with his focus barely on driving the vehicle. 

Sure, it’s a big step– you two haven’t even completed one date yet and now you’re spending the night at his apartment. You reign yourself in slightly and watch the whir of streetlights that pass by outside the window, it’s not like you two were inherently going to be doing anything explicitl anyways. The whole point of staying over was a pity invitation to make up for your lack of house keys and idiotic best friend who ensured you would be locked out. 

Rationally speaking, you should be feeling awkward. A work colleague who you’ve kissed a few times and took you to dinner is now letting you crash on his couch– it’s the perfect situation for you to never show your face around him again from the mortification. But you’re not. Maybe it’s the alcohol, months of not getting any action, or just the dashing man driving you, but you’re relaxing into this situation a lot easier than you expect. 

“Shōta.” You call out, positioning yourself to face him.

He blinks and deftly turns the car down another road. “Hm?”

“Why are you so nervous?”

Shōta pauses and holds the air in his lungs an extra moment before finally turning his attention to you. He glances down at you beside him before peeling his eyes away as soon as his gaze had reached the section of your dress neckline that was dipped just a bit too low. 

“I’m not… I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”

You hum and tap a nail against the car console and shrug before smiling and leaning over to his side a bit more. “I’m not. In all honesty, I've had a really great evening so far; you’ve been a total gentleman.”

A buzz rushes through your skin and you can feel the heat of your cheeks flushing from the heightened blood alcohol content coursing through your veins. The man at the wheel looks back down at you before scrunching his brows with a conflict expression and looking back at the wheel.

When he doesn’t respond, you lift yourself upright and place a hand on his bicep. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Shōta sighs slightly and gently begins breaking for the line of cars stopped ahead. “I shouldn’t have let you drink so much…especially in this situation.”

You blink and take your hand from his arm. Had you not already said you were ‘ok’ with his invitation? Shōta continues to be at war with himself inside his mind, as if he was doomed regardless of what he did. There was no way he would just leave you without keys at your apartment, but you were also drunk, and taking you to his place seemed as if he was trying to take advantage of the situation. 

“You’re over thinking.”

Shōta pauses but keeps his head forward, his eyes not leaving the red glow of the taillights from the car stopped ahead. “What do you–”

“–I would’ve just had you taken me home if I didn’t trust you. Give yourself more credit, please.”

“But you can’t properly assess this situation given your state… and I hmpfh—”

You tug his chin to face you and connect your lips to his; it’s not messy and hot like the ones you’ve shared in these seats, instead it’s slow and gentle. Despite his recent shave, a few stray stubbles of hair tickle the flesh of skin on your cheek and you pull back with as much delicacy as you had initiated it with.

Shōta’s face remains hovering by your own as soft exhales leave his lips as dark eyes trace every detail of your expression. He’s silent when he removes his hands from the wheel and snakes one to cup your cheek and the other to rest at the space where your ribs meet your waist; immediately he leans to meet your lips again. 

The moment is dissolved of awkward tension as he pecks your lips over and over again as if he were scared that too much pressure would break you like porcelain. You bring a hand to rest flat against his chest above his heart and meet every rhythmic wave of his lips, eager to taste the lingering bitterness of wine on his mouth. 

After a few more gentle pecks he peels back to scan your eyes again, his own pupils blown wide, before leaning down to kiss you with more force and longing. Shōta’s hands remain in their position, but his tongue runs a testing swipe across your lips before slithering into your mouth and groaning from the mixture of wine, breath mints, and honey lip gloss that he tastes. 

God, it’s so hot. You grip the fabric of his jacket and button up with fervor and arch slightly as arousal tingles down your spine and pools in your core. The panties under your dress have been soaked ever since you first stepped in the car hours ago, and now they’re fully saturated and leave a slick between the plush cushion of your thighs. 

This kiss, his tongue suffocating you of all air while you rock and sway for more, more, more is one you’ve had before– but this setting changes the intensity. Shōta’s hand slips down to the inward curve of your waist before dropping down even further to play with the bottom hemline of your dress. 

It would be so easy to lift it up even 2 more inches and get full access to the flimsy fabric of panties covering your dripping cunt. And with a gentle graze, he pinches the fabric of the hem between his thumb and index finger before a ‘BEEEEEEP’ rings out from behind you both.

Peeling backwards, Shōta peers into the rearview mirror momentarily before realizing the traffic has begun to move ahead of him. With a sheepish cough, he moves his foot from the brake to accelerator and continues the drive while you pant slightly and scowl at the cockblock car behind you through the back window. 

Shōta laughs slightly and nudges you to spin back around and face forward again; you hesitantly move back into your original position and note the lighter atmosphere of the car. Admiring the man for a few extra moments, you reach over to grab one hand from the wheel and intertwine it with your own, taking note of every callous, bump, and freckle that adorns the skin. As well as the extremely large size of it. 

Shōta doesn’t say anything, but watches you play with his fingers and knuckles through the corner of his eye with an amused smile. The crease of his life line is long, his ring finger is slightly bent– maybe from previously breaking it, and his middle finger is the longest. Dirty thoughts come and go as you examine it for a few more moments before setting it on your upper thigh and placing your own hand over it to ensure he won’t move it away. 

He doesn’t. The soft and plush flesh of your thigh is pinched a few times as he runs his fingertips over the skin to accommodate himself with the sensation; he toys with your hemline and thigh in the same playful and gentle manner you had just done to his hand. 

“Mmm, do you have a TV? We can start that reality show I was talking about at dinner.” You suggest while tapping on his knuckles and becoming quickly addicted to the sensation of his skin against yours. 

Shōta chuckles and turns down another road; the city lights slowly thinning out as you get closer to his apartment. “Oh, yea? You want to watch it that bad?”

You suck in your bottom lip and flush a bit before turning your attention back to the hand on your thigh. The length from the base of the palm to the tip of the middle finger can nearly envelop the entire top of your leg from the sheer size; it leaves you wondering how it would feel inside you– how something else might feel. 

Nipples hard through your dress, your cunt gushes again in a desperate desire that leaves you wondering if you’ve ever been more horny in your life. You need this man. You need this man badly.

“Yea… I think it would be cute to start a show together. Besides, I’m locked out till morning anyways.” You tilt your head back up and blink a few times, putting to use any of the flirting skills you’ve managed to acquire in your life. 

“Starting a series together sounds like quite a commitment. You sure that’s something you want?” He hums before turning back to the road.

Ah, right. That was the other goal you have for the evening– to get some sort of definition of what this currently was. The alcohol makes you complacent for anything if it means you would get him in bed, though your heart tugs that while for tonight, sex would be satisfactory, there’s more than his warmth in the sheets that you want. 

“It is.” You confess, the underlying implication that this wasn’t an evening you only wanted to concur once.

Shōta peers down at you and hums with a smile. “Me too.” His hand closes to squeeze the flesh of your thigh under his fingertips and you have to use every ounce of resolve to avoid tugging the man into the backseat and crashing the car.

The ride continues with light banter and flirty remarks, his hand never leaving your leg, before you roll through parking security and drift into a parking spot marked for staff. Ah, right, his place. Aka, the student dorms filled with rowdy high schoolers; somehow in the heat of his invitation and your acceptance that little fact had slipped your minds. 

The familiar tower of the dorm glows a bit down the walking path from the parking lot to the dormitories and stepping out of the car, you shiver slightly. Shōta shuts his own car door and uses the headlights as enough illumination to walk around the hood and shimmy off his blazer and swing it around your shoulders. 

Cologne fills your sense of smell and you tuck into the jacket a bit more from the intimacy of the act; everything he does seemingly makes you fall harder for him… in addition to raising your desire to him as soon as possible. Tugging the bagginess of the large fabric around your frame and offering a ‘thank you’, Shōta clenches his jaw and promptly spin around; a brief glimpse of the erection in his slacks now within view. 

The dark interior of the car shielded you from seeing much, but with the LED headlights of the vehicle shining on him before the timer flicks them off, you can see this man is just as pent up as you. Cock hard in his slacks, chest puffing with increased heart rate, and flush to his face not from alcohol, Shōta is faring just as poorly as you are given the tension. 

Taking a few steps forward, you sling your arm around the bend of his elbow and lean into his torso as you walk the stone path the dormitory ahead. Shōta knows this is probably the least romantic place to bring someone back to of all time. It’s filled with over energetic teenagers who scream and run wild and also his workplace by technicality. 

Shōta’s dreamed about this moment more times than he can count, but he’s never solidified the plan if he actually got to spend an evening with you. In the back of his mind, he always figured he would take you home, you would offer him a ‘coffee’, and then he’d take you as many times as you’d let him. Maybe the couch, then living room floor, eventually the bedroom, and maybe the shower? Running on little sleep has left him with a stamina only useful on the bathfield and the bedroom. 

“This is a nice walk.” You interject, looking at the surrounding greenery that bordered the simple pathway.

“Oh, yea… it’s not bad.”

You chuckle at his sheepish behavior and lean your head against his shoulder and sigh in contentment; Keigo is going to freak out when he hears about this– after you kill him for locking yout first.

You pause slightly, and look up at Shōta who holds your gaze with a comfortable smile on his lips, looking absolutely beautiful. You’ve always known that, but the way the moon lights up his raven black hair with a silver glow leaves you breathless as he raises an eyebrow and leans down to peck the top of your forehead.

Tugging his bicep to your chest, you lean further into him and smile, “You know.. You really are–”

“–Two more laps, Midoriya!”

Immediately you both pause and Shōta’s expression drops to one of deadly frustration. Releasing your grasp on the man’s arm, you peer around the open courtyard and spot a familiar head of green hair panting heavily while turning the corner to the same energetic young man with glasses you saw last time. 

You drop your hold on Shōta’s arm as he furrows his brows in annoyance and pivots to examine the small group of 5 students that stand outside. “Tch, I told Yamada the curfew was 10pm, so what are these idiots doing?”

Pivoting slightly to peer beside him, you watch the young man with glasses give Midoriya a hard slap on the back for completing some sort of training regime; Todoroki stands beside two girls, one with short brown hair and another with long black. 

“Seems like they’re eager to be heroes.”

Shōta scoffs. “More like eager to be in trouble.”

Teacher-mode switches on as the man steps away from you and begins to walk over to the group before faltering to an awkward stop. Right, he had you with him… late at night… and you’re both heading to his apartment. 

Dragging a hand down his face and tugging his under eyelids down from the force, Shōta exhales with frustration before turning to you. “Um, I can go deal with them but…” He works the words out in his mind, trying to find the best way to word his request. “Can you wait a few minutes and then go through the…back entrance? I can meet you at the stairwell.”

“Like some sort of sneaky fling?”

Shōta sputters and raises his hands but you laugh and nudge his shoulder. “I’m kidding. I’ll give you 5 and meet you at the stairs.”

He sighs in relief and returns your nudge, half-grateful for you not being mad at him for hiding you from a group of nosey teenagers, and half-exhausted from the emotional duress he was already under.  

“Thanks,” he leans down to peck your lips and gently give your shoulders a squeeze before turning to speed walk towards his students.

Pivoting to stand beside a tree and obstruct their view if the students happened to look over, you watch the way Shōta yells over at them from across the courtyard. Giggles escape your lips as you watch the way they scurry together in apology and frantically explain themselves; you can’t hear the conversation, but you can just barely make out their sheepish facial expressions. 

After a few moments, the group lines up and walks around the building towards the front door with Shōta in the rear as he continues talking about some sort of disciplinary warning for breaking curfew. Pausing an extra moment, you push off the tree and tip toe towards the back door as quietly and quickly as you possibly can with a bottle of wine in your system and heeled boots on your feet. 

It feels like how you imagine field work for heroes must be, and for a brief moment you regret taking up a career in an office building rather than patrolling the streets with your best friend. Padding across the lawn and making your way to the concrete back porch steps, you scurry up the final stairs and gently push on the unlocked door. 

Poking your head through a crack, you survey what looks like a laundry room to your left and communal showers to the right. There’s a hum of a washing machine in use and a gentle patter of a shower head, but there’s not a soul insight; you slip through the door the rest of the way and scurry down the hallway towards the first stairwell door you see. 

By the time you gently click the door shut, a pair of steps coming down the stairs towards you, leaves you rushing to find something to hide behind; crouching behind a large rolling laundry bin is your only option. 

Knees aching from the cold hard flooring, you cover your mouth to avoid the labored breathing before the cart is slowly wheeled to the side.

“You know, most people would’ve just left the stairwell rather than hide in plain sight.”

You raise to your feet as Shōta extends a hand and pulls you up, a coy smirk on his lips as you shove his shoulder back; he doesn’t move from his position next to you. 

“You could’ve announced that it was you coming down.” you mumble while ascending the stairwell with him at your side.

“Mmm, but if it wasn’t you hiding behind the laundry bin, it would’ve been strange.”

You grumble to yourself in defeat and continue walking up each flight with a slight burn in your thighs from the workout and an ache in your feet from the lack of proper footwear. Reaching the 4th floor, Shōta pivots to kneel slightly in front of you, “Get on. It’s obvious you’re struggling.”

Sputtering slightly with a bruised ego, you cross your arms and push past him to continue up another ungodly amount of stairs before an arm pulls your knees out from underneath. 

“Woa– hey!”

Strong forearms are cradled underneath your ribs and knees as Shōta ascends the next set of steps with you tucked in his arms. A grin on his lip as you nudge him with fake annoyance and wrap an arm around his neck to better steady yourself. 

“Mmm, my hero! Saving me from this villainous set of stairs, how can I ever repay the favor?” You joke with sarcasm as he tosses your body up slightly in his arms to reposition the angle at which you lean against him.

“Just doing my job. No need to thank me.” He responds with equal sarcasm as he quickly moves up another floor as if the weight in his arms wasn’t there. 

You throw your head back and tug his jacket on your shoulders a bit tighter before leaning down to his neck and planting a small kiss to his jaw line. Shōta shivers at the sensation and exhales through his nose before peering down at you with an eyebrow raised. “You always give heroes a kiss like that?”

“No~, just the ones I’m especially grateful for.”

Shōta chuckles and doesn’t release his grasp on you when he finally reaches the correct floor; he pivots to open the door with the hand tucked under your knees and kicks it open wider so you both can slip out and into the hallway. Long strides to his apartment door, Shōta gently places you on your feet before feeling up and down his pockets with a frantic expression.

Gasping slightly, “Wait, don’t tell me you forget–”

“–my keys?” he finishes the question before tugging out a keyring from his back pocket with a smug expression. “Nah, I wouldn’t forget that.”

Sputtering slightly and furrowing your brows, you follow him inside and wait for the door to click shut before pushing him with annoyance. “Geez, you’re such an ass.”

Shōta smiles coyly at you and removes his shoes before offering you a balanced arm of support while you kick off your heeled boots. When you’re back steady on your aching feet, he steps ahead towards his kitchen while you take in the layout of his apartment. 

“I’ll grab you some water.”

You hum and watch him click on a tall standing floor lamp in the living room before heading for the faucet. Immediately to the right of the front door is a small sofa with a coffee table and TV to make up the living room; on the left was a coat closet and small table for keys and miscellaneous items. The hallway continued straight into an open kitchen with a wooden table in the center and a set of glass patio doors to a small balcony. 

Padding further into the apartment, the hallway splits to another walkway on the left with two short steps up into another hallway; this one leading towards a bedroom and ensuite bathroom. The whole scene is small, neat, and comfortable and the air smells like a mix of fresh laundry and musky cologne. 

Pivoting back towards the sofa, you shimmy off his jacket and place it gently on the back of the cushion before admiring the nice warm glow of the floor lamp. The whole place is clean…too clean.

Every throw pillow is placed in a perfect position, every shoe by the door [except your boots] are neatly organized, and even the paper towel roll has been recently replaced. Humming to yourself and dragging a hand across the underside of the TV, you raise an eyebrow at the lack of dusting residing on your finger tips. 

“Here’s some water, it’s best to drink if you want to avoid a headache tomorrow.” Shōta offers a glass while returning from the kitchen and ushering you to sit on the sofa. 

Taking the spot beside you, he relaxes back into the cushions and rubs the back of his neck, “And sorry about my students, they can be a handful most of the time.”

The water is refreshing against your throat, and you take a moment to finish nearly half the glass before placing it on the coffee table. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just thankful you’re letting me stay here.”

“Of course.” Shōta replies, as if it was the easiest decision of his life and as if he wasn’t having an internal crisis about it in the car earlier.

Now that you’re both in his apartment, there’s another wave of awkward tension between you both as neither one makes a move to discuss what exactly was the plan next. Do you say goodnight and just lay on the couch? Or will he offer you the bed? Would he offer you a set of pajamas, or just leave you in your dress?

Sucking the flesh of your check between your molars, you reach forward to his TV remote and turn to him. “Well, would you want to actually start that show?” 

Shōta swallows and blinks a few times before nodding. “Sure, I’d be happy to see what seems to be so interesting about this ‘real housewives’ you’ve talked so much about.”

Chuckling slightly, you lean back into the cushions to pull up a streaming service and load the first episode of the most recent season; Shōta watches with a suspicious expression as the opening credits begin to roll. 

“Ah, I might have a few spare blankets– let me get them.” He rises to his feet and shuffles to his bedroom leaving you alone in the living room.

‘Might’

The word leaves a weird feeling in your mouth that isn’t just the overpriced red wine still on your tongue. Looking around the apartment you’re met with the same strange feeling as the word; something is off, but you can’t seem to place exactly what. 

Peering over the back of the couch and confirming he’s still preoccupied with ‘searching’ for a blanket, you stand up and pad into the kitchen and look around the counter top. Coffee beans are normal, a fresh paper towel roll is convenient, but a bottle of wine on the very end catches your attention– especially the two wine glasses placed beside it.

Taking the bottle in your hands, you spin the label around and blink a few times to clearly read the description in the dim lighting; you don’t even notice the set of returning footsteps as Shōta approaches from his bedroom.

“I was able to find one– are you looking for something?”

You pause slightly, but keep your back to him as you run a thumb across the label, “You bought wine?”

Shōta tosses the blanket over the back of the couch and looks at the women on the TV arguing and shrugs slightly, “Yea…? I got some last time I went to the store…”

“No, but you bought this wine.” You lift the bottle over your shoulder before bringing it back in front of you. “It’s the same kind, the same exact brand, and the one I ordered the first time I met you… the first time I met all of the UA staff.”

Shōta’s silent behind you for a moment as the argument of two women on the screen are the only thing filling the air as you idly recall the moments of this bottle.

“What–” he begins.

“–It was for dinner!” you repeat, seeing the memory clear as day in your mind. “You sat on my left at the table…. It was 7pm, on a Thursday, at the French restaurant across town…but I didn’t want a whole bottle and offered to split it with yo– ah!”

A cold shiver runs down your spine as the memory is torn from your mind and you’re left idly blinking and grasping at the rest of it. Placing the bottle on the counter, you furrow your brows and try your hardest to remember the rest of that evening before you spin around with an awkward tingle in your nerves; a pair of glowing red irises pulls your attention to the man.

“I can’t– Shōta!” You gasp while trudging towards him. “Turn my quirk back on, now.”

He avoids your attempts at pawing his eyes to cover his vision and tugs your hands together within one of his own. “No…” he grumbles.

Ah, so this is what was off. 

Memory or not, you look up at him with a cheeky grin, ignoring the reality show playing idly in the background. “Shōta…” you begin, “Did you plan on having me come back home with you?”

He pauses slightly and the pressure holding your hands together lessens by a fraction before his eyes flicker back to their usual dark color and awkwardly stare at a corner of the room. “No…”

“Really?” You tilt your head closer to him and survey the room, the tipsiness of your state creating a wave of confidence despite the submissive position you're physically in given the mass of a man in front of you. “Then you always keep your living room this clean?”

Shōta shrugs and peels his eyes back to you, unwilling to be called on his bluff. “I’m a clean man.”

“Right, and you always ensure to dust and stock up on essentials?” you narrow your eyes at him.

“I sneeze when debris builds up.”

Pushing even more, you tilt your head to his. “Ok, and you always buy the wine I drink, with two glasses out? Tell me, are you sure you didn’t plan to have me over, or is there a form of company besides me that you bring back here?”

Ah, you got him. You haven’t even seen the rest of the apartment and you caught on already. 

Shōta’s jaw tightens, but the pressure on your wrists is released as he brings his hands to his sides; dark eyes glance between your own. “Just you.” He quickly breathes out. “It’s always been just you.”

The admission makes your coy act falter, and the way he concedes that you are the only person he would plan this for makes your heart beat even faster. Shōta stands hovering over you, and for the first time since you’ve stepped inside, you’re reminded just how much bigger he is than you. 

Yes, you can act coy and tease that maybe he had cleaned his apartment in hopes of getting lucky, but now that you’ve played your hand, you realize you’re out of moves. Shōta breathes unsteadily a few times and doesn’t release his stare, “I mean what I said earlier— I didn’t plan to get you drinking and take you back here…”

He takes a few more deep breaths before stepping back and coming fully clean, “I just… you know– wanted to be prepared just in case something did happen. Not that I was expecting it.”

Maybe it’s a moment of clarity from your previously tipsy haze, but the implication of everything is crashing down on you, hard and fast. Here Shōta was, admitting to cleaning his apartment, buying wine, and most likely preparing himself for if you were to come back to his place. The meaning of ‘come back to his place’ doesn’t rely on the factor that you would forget your keys, it would be under the pretense that you were coming back to his apartment for more. 

A tingle rushes down your spine and you find yourself turning your attention to the TV screen in an awkward attempt to fully acknowledge what was going on. An awkward cough escaping your lips, you pivot to move back towards the sofa and pat the spot next to you as casually as you can. “Right, well… that’s uh fine.”

Shōta doesn’t move for a moment, unsure exactly how to take your usage of the word ‘fine’ before slowly moving to sit beside you and pretending  to care about what was happening on the screen. He sits stiffly against the cushions and opens his mouth a few times before pivoting to face you. “I just… didn’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

You turn your head to peer at him. “I get it…”

He raises his hands to attempt at wording it out. “Ok… that’s good. It’s not in my plans to have sex with you.”

“What…” you sit upright and a blush rushes across your face as Shōta peels back in frustration at himself.

“Not like that! I mean I would love to have sex with you–”

“Huh?”

“I just–” he runs a hand on his face and takes a moment to calculate if jumping off the balcony would be a fall high enough to end his misery. “You’ve been drinking, and you’re only here because you’re locked out, and my students are downstairs, and–”

“–Shōta.”

You take his hand from his face and chuckle at the embarrassed twinge of pink on his cheeks despite the stubborn expression on his face. Yes, you might’ve played your cards a bit earlier at calling out his preparation, but there’s one more thing– a phrase by Keigo of all people comes to mind.

‘He’s still a guy.’

Yes, because at the end of the day Shōta is just a man– not just a hero and school teacher– and you are the woman he’s been dreaming about sitting dolled up all pretty on his couch. 

The man in front of you sighs and turns his attention to the TV screen with a hardened look on his face. “I’ve fucked this whole thing up, haven’t I?”

You tug his hand to rest your thigh once again and tilt his chin to face you. “You know… you never asked what I wanted.”

Shōta swallows and relaxes into your touch, sliding back into the cushions and looking down at you with interest. Running a hand along his knuckles, you look up and continue. “You’ve gone this whole evening at war with yourself worried that you were forcing something onto me, without ever asking what I even wanted in the first place. You keep backpedaling and worrying that you’ve coerced me here against my will, despite the fact that I gratefully accepted your invitation for helping me out.”

Shōta runs a tongue along his lips and hangs onto every word you say. He was a gentleman all dinner, asking you questions and learning more about your interests, but as soon as his own insecurities bubble up, he can’t seem to find the rationality to simply ask you openly what you wanted. 

Eyes never leaving your own, Shōta tilts his towering frame down slightly. “Ok. So what do you want?”

A smile on your lips, you drag your gaze over the frame of the large man beside you– his physical statue engulfing you despite the fact he was wrapped snugly against your pretty little finger. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Your gaze dips down to linger on his lips before he races forward to meet your mouth with his own; a force of desperation you’ve never felt from him. Your hands reach to tangle in his hair and gently tug out the half bun while one of his hands holds your face to angle your lips against his while the other is squeezing the flesh of your thigh. 

There’s no timid gentle pecks between each kiss, instead Shōta forces his tongue into your mouth to run his taste buds along your own to drink in the flavor of your mouth over and over again. It’s messy beyond belief as saliva drips from the corners of your mouth and his teeth clink against yours once or twice from the sheer force of the rocks of his head. 

Biting his bottom lip and tugging slightly on it, Shōta shakily exhales through his nose before tugging his lip from the pinch of your teeth and running his mouth along the side of your neck. The sensation of his nose tickling the flesh under your ear as he sucks and bites on the pulse point of your throat mirrors the same feelings as when he would do this in his car.

But you’re not in his car anymore, you’re in his apartment. 

Sighing at the gentle nibble of his teeth along your neck before his lips find another spot to suck and mark, you tug on his hair playfully. “Hmmm, isn’t this where you stop? Just like in your car…”

Shōta doesn’t fall for a shallow tease and instead removes the hand that was cradling your jaw to entangle in your hair and tug it roughly to angle your head back; the increased exposure of flesh leaves him rushing forward to mark a new, untainted area.

The sting of your hair follicles while his tongue runs across a new hickey before his lips suction onto another spot leaves your cunt once again gushing and clenching pathetically around nothing. Slick accumulating between your thighs has your hips twitching in a plea for the hand on your thigh to do something.

“S-Stop moving..” he pushes pressure on your leg and leans down more over you to continue sucking the other side of your neck. “Couldn’t….” he pops his lips from your throat and moves to another spot. “Couldn't do this in my car…”

You wither in his grasp from the sensation and groan at the arousal building inside you for uptenth time this evening, “huh…nghh ‘this’”?

His lips trail down to your collarbone and Shōta’s kisses get softer until his mouth is hovering right about the low neckline of your dress; a flimsy piece of fabric between his face and your breasts. Peeling back slightly, he leans into your neck and inhales the scent of your perfume deeply before running a few apologetic kisses along the fresh bruises now painting your neck. 

“Tell me to stop, please…” a few more chaste kisses litter under your ear where your flesh and hairline meet. “Please, you have to tell me no…”

Running a hand to now tug on his scalp, Shōta doesn’t move from his position nuzzled into your neck despite the force tugging his follicles; he’d sooner go bald than move away from you. Sighing airly, you release your pull and instead place your hand flat on his chest, tracing the top button of his shirt. 

“And if I say, I don’t want you to stop? Then what…?”

Shōta sucks in a hollow breath of air and groans slightly while continuing to lick and suck the section of skin exposed to him, not bothering to answer while he attempts to reign himself in.

Unclasping the first button, you run a cold hand along the small sliver of exposed flesh and sigh when the heat of his skin warms your fingers. The atmosphere is too much, and it feels as if you’re melting from the way his lips continue their ministrations under your ear. 

Biting your tongue, you angle your vision as best you can, Shōta’s mess of hair blocks a majority of your view, until you see the tent throbbing in his slacks. A mind clouded by desire, you arch your back and push your tits forward into his chest while rolling your hips forward; his hand on your thigh prevents you from getting any closer.

“You said you wanted me to tell you to stop...” You mumble with a slight chuckle at the trembling hand that’s keeping you still. Pulling your hand from his small patch of exposed chest, you trace down the seam line of his shirt before quickling reaching forward to palm his erection.

“F-fuck!” He hisses from his spot at your neck before sitting back and moving to hold both of your hands back.

Heavy pants leave his lips as dilated eyes watch you with a predator’s stare, once again reminding you just how much larger this pro-hero man was. “You don’t know what you’re doing… you’ve been drinking and–”

“–I want you. How many times do I need to tell you to stop assuming things on my behalf?”

Shōta swallows and shuts his eyes in an attempt to listen to the variety of voices swirling in his head. Yes, you were telling him right here and now that you were attracted to him, but the nagging and self-deprecating voice within him kept pestering on. He was a high school teacher for fuck’s sake, he couldn’t give you an exciting life outside of monitoring a class of rowdy teenagers and drowing in tedious paperwork. He wasn’t highly ranked, highly regarded, fuck he wasn’t even good at communicating… so it was only a matter of time before you got bored and realized he isn’t what you wanted.

A part of him was ok with that though; so desperate for your approval that he would gladly take a position of ‘quick fuck’ or ‘rebound’ if it ment you would grant him even a fraction of your time. 

“Stop doing that.” You tug his chin to face yours. “You keep going somewhere…”

Shōta exhales and blinks at the way your hand had somehow come free from his grasp before stiffly tilting his head down; his cock throbbing painfully in his slacks. He could still stop this, tell you that when you were fully sober you would regret it, and he could live with blue balls and embarrassment.

“I’m just… thinking.”

You frown before cracking a half smile. “Okayyy, well stop that.”

“Huh–?” He blinks as you back up slightly and position yourself on the edge of the sofa.

Spinning to face him fully, you place a hand on his knee and rub it a few times before dragging your fingers to tap against his belt buckle. “Stop thinking.”

Shōta watches as you tug the leather fabric up and through the buckle before slowly sliding out from around his waist loops. “Wait.” He places a hand on yours, and you immediately stop.

“Shōta– listen. I want you, ok?” You look between his eyes and lean in. “Now, what do you want?”

The man breathes deeply a few times and drags his gazes across your lips, down the dozens of bruises on your neck, shamelessly across the upper flesh of your tits, and down to the plush round curve of your hips before returning to your face. “You. Fuck, I need you.”

The moment you’ve been aching for leaves a steady heartbeat pounding in your chest and pussy as his hands slowly remove from their position keeping you at bay. Leaning up slightly, you plant a lingering kiss against his lips before sliding to the floor and nudging his knees apart to kneel between them. 

Shōta watches with lidded eyes as you pop the button of his slacks and slowly tug the zipper down; he plants his feet firmly on the floor and flexes his thighs to raise his hips up, allowing you to shimmy the waistband down just below the swell of his ass. 

The sight is mouth watering, and you can feel your cunt pulsing in desire to have the cock in front of you inside already. But you take your time, awing at the way it’s pushing so desperately at the fly of the boxer briefs that the swollen tip is poking through. 

Gray fabric is darkened in a lewd patch of pre-cum as his cock twitches as you trace the outline of it through the material. Dark pupils never leave your figure as they scan the way your fingertips trace the length of his shaft, up and down, until you pry the fabric of the fly open just a bit more to let a portion of his length slip out. 

Shōta sucks in a breath at the change in temperature and wishes he could sear this vision into his memory like you. Looking back up at the man and ignoring the slight burn in your knees, you lower your mouth down to lick a small strip over the slit of the swollen cockhead; a hum escapes your lips as salty pre-cum lingers on your tongue. 

It’s an absolute vision, having him huff above you, completely at your use and disposal for whatever you wanted to do. Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, Shōta reaches forward to trace the outline of your jaw before tapping on your lips once and sinking his hands into your hair to tug it away from your face before shimmying his boxer briefs down the rest of the way to fully free his cock.. 

Ever the gentleman indeed. 

You smile and tilt your head to kiss the pulse point on his wrist before ducking your head again to now plant a variety of little pecks along the apex of his thighs, the curve of his heavy balls, and around the base of neatly trimmed shaft. How convenient he just ‘happens’ to shave before this– not like you could judge though, you’ve prepared for this evening more than you have any other date in your life. 

A low grumble emits from his chest as you take too long and Shōta guides your head back to where he needed you the most. Smiling to yourself, you lick along his dripping slit once more before flicking your tongue to rub against his frenulum. 

“Ahh, s-shit…”

Fingers scratching your scalp harder, you take the heavy weight of his cock in your hands and lick the entire shaft to the head a few times to lubricate the flesh before opening your jaw and inching him inside slowly. Instinctively, his hips jerk forward to get even deeper into your mouth.

“Haa, just like that… fuck baby–”

The pet name isn’t lost on you, and you’re sure to asking him about it later; for now you flatten you tongue and ignore the sting in your jaw as you take what you can and use your hand to slowly jerk what won’t fit. Even if Keigo was joking about the ‘measurement’ hand motions, the exaggerated distance wouldn’t be far off from the length bullying it’s way into your mouth.

Heavy with a decent thickness and delicious length, you can feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head. A few more rhythmic pulses and you ‘pop!’ the length from your mouth to give your jaw a break and spit down onto his cockhead and jerk him off with a messy handjob. 

“Oh my– FUCK!  D-Don’t stop.. Ngh please…”

Shōta digs his hands into your scalp before flexing his thighs again and jerking up into your dripping hand; you lick the swollen tip as it bobs up and down before releasing your hand and sliding it back into your awaiting mouth.

Careful to relax your jaw and avoid grazing the flesh with your teeth, you let him guide your head to his own rhythm when the flex of his hips grows erratic and needy. You work your lips with enough suction that you aren’t just trying to milk him dry, you’re trying to suck the soul out of him.

One hand leaves your hair and digs into the cushions beside him before Shōta throws his head back momentarily and pushes your head away from his cock. Your hair falls messily back down as a pout works its way onto your lips and Shōta grimaces as his eyes take in the fucked out expression on your face. 

Pupils blown wide, hair thrown around haphazardly, and swollen puffy lips that were just latched around his length are the only thing he sees before pumping himself a few more times and cuming. Hard. 

A gasp escaping your lip when he groans your name and hot spurts of semen dribble on your cheeks, lips, and along the upper swell of your breast from the low neckline of the dress. Shōta continues stroking himself through his orgasm with his head thrown back against the cushions of the sofa and twitching his hips a few more times as he comes down from his high.

Curious, you swipe a line of cum off your cheek and pop a finger into your mouth to sample his flavor; it’s more watery than creamy, and there’s a slight salt flavor that tingles on your tongue. The viscosity is a bit lower than that of honey, and the ropes of semen that litter your flesh begin to slide with gravity and pool at the bend of your collarbone and down the valley of your tits. 

“Ah, shit… sorry I should’ve… should’ve warned you…” Shōta pants out as he sits up a bit straight and releases the hold on his softer semi. 

You swipe another line from your chin and slip it between your fingers with a shrug while Shōta groans at the sight. Pulling you to your feet, Shōta pushes you to sit against the sofa before he rises to his feet and tucks himself back into his boxer briefs and pads into the kitchen. 

“What are you–”

“–I gotta clean up the mess I made.” He immediately responds, taking a fresh paper towel and dampening it before returning to wipe the rest of his cum from your upper chest. 

Blood now circulating evenly, Shōta cleans you up with a gentle touch before tossing the towel into the trash and returning with a gentle rub on your red and swollen knees. His face is apologetic while you take a few gulps of water from your glass; placing it back on the table, you pull his chin to meet your lips. 

On instinct he groans into your mouth, savoring the way your tongue tastes like a mixture of your breath mints, wine, and his own cum. Your lips chase him as he breaks the kiss to run a few pecks down your neck before spinning on the couch to push you back against the armest with him positioned between your thighs. 

Wary hands knead and squeeze the plush flesh of your thighs as large black eyes peer at your face, watching for any sign of discomfort. “Let me return the favor, yea?”

You blush and nod once before he gently bunches your dress to your waist and runs his thumb over your pelvic bones above the flimsy lace thong bands. A tongue wets his lower lips as he traces the material down to the mound of your cunt and drinks in the way your slick has saturated the gusset of the fabric to the point your inner thighs are glistening in arousal. Of course, nothing is ever easy and the thin material of your tights leaves him pawing at the waistband to tug down.

A few accidental snaps of the elastic against your navel, Shōta cuts his losses and pinches the threads to tear a hole big enough for his satisfaction. He hums a promise to buy you new ones when you squeal at the sound of fabric ripping and turns his attention back to your semi-clothed cunt.

“All this.. f’me?” he wonders out loud, dragging an index finger up and down the wet material along the slit of your pussy.

“Ah, y-yes…all for you…baby”

Shōta scoffs slightly at your tease for his pet name and peels the gusset down and out of the way; he had planned on pocketing, but those damned tights just had to ruin his fantasy– ‘he’ll just get them later’, he thinks to himself. 

Shōta shimmies to sit on the floor and lean against the base of the sofa while positioning your thighs to rest on his shoulders; hot breaths fan your cunt as he inhales the intoxicating scent of your pussy.

“Ah, so you have jokes now?”

A whimper escapes your lips and your hand tangles in his hair, desperate to have him closer to where you need him the most.

Long hair tickles the inner flesh of your thighs and Shōta keeps his lips just above your weeping cunt. “Come on, sly girl. Tell me what you want– you’ve been pestering about it all evening.”

Swallowing your saliva and any ego, you lean your head back against the armrest and wiggle slightly, “Y-You… please need you…Shōta”

Satisfied enough, though he would’ve preferred to hear you beg a bit more, Shōta plants a small kiss to the inner apex of your leg and turns his attention to the pussy he’s been desperately dreaming about. Laying his tongue flat and running a few long stripes over your folds and puckering entrance, he pushes his weight forward, addicted to the taste. 

The sounds are vile and filthy, the sounds of him kissing your cunt in a nasty French style before biting and nipping your outer labia and delving his tongue back into the opening of your core. His nose ruts against your puffy clit and your fingers are scratching at his scalp as the waves of pleasure are mind numbing. 

Pulling his tongue away, Shōta rocks back slightly and pops a long middle finger into his mouth before dragging it up and down your folds before slowly sinking it into your cunt. 

“A-ah! Shit….nngh…”

You twitch at the delicious stretch of his finger as Shōta watches your expression for any sign of pain before slowly rocking his finger in and out to a steady rhythm. Fluttering around his finger, he slips in another and massages the walls of your pussy in search of the rough little patch that makes your hips shake in pleasure. 

“Here? Right here?” he murmurs while scissoring his fingers against the spot over and over again and leaning back down to suck and lick at your clit.

You’re a mess against the sofa, biting your lips but not muffling the pornographic sighs and whimpers that escape your throat as the wet gushy sound of him fingering you fills the air. It’s better than your own hand and any toy you’ve owned, and when Shōta ruts his thick fingers against your g-spot over and over again, you wince your eyes shut and grab onto his hair.

“Ohh, fuck… you’re gonna make me cum… haaa I’m gonna..”

He peels his lips from your clit and keeps his pace on your g-spot even, coaxing you through the rush of pleasure as your muscles clamp onto his fingers as if your cunt could milk it dry. “Thaaaat’s it… come on baby you got it… cum f’me, yea?”

The deep pur of his voice has you cuming on his fingers and your hips rutting against his hand in a desperate attempt for even more; a few tears escape your eyes as the pleasure creates a mind reeling haze to wash over you.

Fucking his fingers into you a few more times to ride out your orgasm, Shōta slowly slips them out as you whimper and pops them into his mouth. He’s never been particularly keen on sweets, but the syrupy candy flavor of your cum is making him quickly addicted to the flavor. 

A light afterglow settles on your skin as sweat drips down your temple from the rush of heat coming from the moment as Shōta sits back up on the sofa and rubs reassuring hands over your pelvic bones.

“You alright?”

Alright, doesn’t even begin to describe the euphoric feeling, but you’re too fucked out to propose a better word. 

“Yea…” you pant before pushing yourself up to rest higher against the armrest. “You’re a little too good at that.”

Shōta chuckles and leans down to capture your lips and feed you the taste of your arousal in a similar manner you had with his own cum a few minutes before. He pecks your lips a few more times before leaning back and tucking a lock of hair away from your face and absorbing the glow on your skin.

“Well it’s just luck then…I don’t exactly get out much” he chuckles, eyes beaming gently as he stares at you with starstruck admiration and cum coating his chin. 

You giggle and sink into yourself before tracing a hand down his chest and palming his renewed erection in his boxer briefs. Shōta’s breath hitches slightly, and the insecure doubts that had clouded his mind prior have since been replaced with a dirty primal desire for more.

“We don’t have t–”

“–bedroom?” you cut him off and trace his bottom lip with your thumb.

Shōta doesn’t need to be told twice for that; he rushes to his feet, ignoring the dull hum of the reality show that still plays in the background and pulling you up and over his shoulder. 

“Woa, hey!” you squeak as he tosses you up once to adjust the distribution of weight and power walks down the hallway to his room. 

The view of his round ass is cut short as he flops your back onto his plush mattress and moves to kick his door shut– as if he had to worry about a roommate. Dark eyes don’t leave your figure as he saunters back to the bed and begins peeling off the buttons of his dress shirt; you watch in a trance before glancing around the tidiness of the bedroom.

“You really prepared, huh?” you jest, smirking at the way the pillows are perfectly arranged, the floor lamp is already on to a warm glow, and you can see a set of extra towels sitting on the counter of the sink of the ensuite bathroom. 

Shōta shuts his eyes and groans slightly before tossing the fabric to the floor and peeling off his slacks the rest of the way and kicking them off his ankles. You sit back on the bed and lift your hips up slightly to slide the waistband of your ripped tights to the floor and peel your soaked thong to join it. 

The man standing saunters a bit closer to the bed and assists in tugging your dress up and over your head, taking a moment to kick your saturated panties under his bed to retrieve later. Nipples pebbling at the cool sensation of being freed, Shōta doesn’t waste a moment to dip his head and latch his lips to the swollen nub.

His force has you laying flat on his mattress as he climbs over you and sucks the perky flesh while his other hand kneads and massages the fat of your other breast. The tongue rubbing against your nipple is hot and wet while sharp teeth occasionally bite; a wet patch from his boxer briefs ruts against your hip as he grinds his clothed erection into you.

Shōta places a few extra hickies around the swell of your tit before moving to suck on the next one, repeating his action of squeezing the flesh of the breast not receiving his mouth. It feels like you’re on fire.

Back arching and pushing your chest closer to his mouth, you whine and tug on his hair, desperate for even more. Ignoring the way you paw at his face, Shōta places a few more pecks on your tit and rocks back to slide off the bed and trace a hand down your thigh; silently, he flashes a gentle smile and moves to open his nightstand drawer.

And of course, there’s a box of condoms conveniently placed right at the front of the wooden drawer. The thought of him potentially doing this with other women makes an uneasy feeling course through your veins, but the sight of him biting the plastic wrap indicating the box had never been opened qualms your insecurity. 

Ripping a perforated foil packet from the line of condoms, Shōta keeps the box readily available on the nightstand and tears open the material. 

It’s happening. Fuck, it’s finally fucking happening.

It’s wrong to feel a little giddy, but the thought of you finally being able to have sex with this man after months of pathetic pining is beyond satisfying. 

As he kicks his boxer briefs to the floor and gives a few pumps to his cock, you lean over and notice a full length dressing mirror facing the bed. The angle gives you a view of his sculpted ass and chiseled back muscles, before the man in question taps your ankle once and climbs up on top of you.

“You sure?” He murmurs, planting delicate kisses to the bruised flesh of your throat.

You wrap your hands around his shoulders and nod. “More than anything.”

It feels like he’s died and went to heaven, but Shōta doesn’t wait any longer; rocking back to sit on his knees for a moment, he tugs a spare pillow under your hips and splays your thighs open. Arousal drips from your cunt along with remnants of your prior orgasm and his saliva and he drags his latex-coated cockhead up and down a few times to coat it thoroughly.

“Alright, just breathe…” he gently pushes in the tip and rocks forward. “Bit of a stretch.”

He isn’t lying. Your hands steady yourself on his rear deltoids as a slight burn pushes through you as he slowly sinks inch after inch into your cunt. Nail digging slightly into his flesh, Shōta slowly pumps in and out to edge his way deeper and deeper inside. 

“F-fuck… haaa relax, please… you're so – ngh tight…”

It takes a few moments before he bottoms out completely and his balls tap against the round swell of your ass; you both stay still for a moment, taking in the moment of being so intimately connected before he slides partially out and rocks back in. 

“Ah– mhpf… feels good.. Shōta” you moan into his ear as 8 delicious inches slip in and out, kissing your cervix with each snap of his hips.

The man in question fares no better above you, with one hand on your hip to guide your cunt back to his cock and the other supporting his weight as he hovers over you in a partial plank. Your pussy is hot, wet, and mind-numbingly tight to the point he’s wondering if it feels this good with a rubber, he can’t even imagine how it would feel to hit it raw. 

Though maybe you’d let him do that later. 

Later? Just the thought of being able to fuck you again and again has him about to prematurely ejaculate.

Shōta groans when you tilt your head to bite into neck and plant a few small hickies to his own skin while his dick stirs up your pussy from the inside out. The bed creaks and the headboard slams into the wall with the same rhythm of the ‘plap! Plap! plap! ‘ of his balls hitting your ass with each stroke. 

At least he didn’t share a wall with a student, because then he’d have to resign and never show his face at work again.

“K-kiss me…” you whimper out, tugging his face to look at you once more, almost sensing he was lost in thought during the moment. 

Shōta uses the short pause of connecting his lips to yours as a cheeky way of slowing down to prevent from cumming, though you have no patience for that. Flexing the muscles of your pussy around his cock, nearly feeling the swollen vein that runs along the bottom of his shaft, his resolve crumbles further. 

He needs to make you cum.

Pulling his lips from yours, he pushes your thighs further apart and stands upright with his knees; the angle now allowing for the base of his cock to smack against your puffy clit with each snap of his hips. Pushing your head back into the pillows, a wave gushes from your pussy as the sensation tightens the coil building in your abdomen.

You look better than all his dreams, and Shōta digs in his mind to think of something, anything to prevent him from spilling into the condom before you cum. Toshinori asked him to review a few files during lunch yesterday. The traffic leaving UA at 6pm today was particularly bad. Yamada wants to know if he wants to see a baseball game this weekend…

Tugging a hand from your hips and guiding his fingers to your clit, Shōta snaps back into the moment to focus on the withering expression on your face as your hips twitch and grind up into him further. Understanding the silent request, he runs a gentle circle over the nub of your clit and groans when your lips fall open to whine in pleasure. 

Tits bouncing with every stroke, your eyes hazy and staring up at him, and the delicious squelch of your pussy with each thrust is too much for the man; with a canine pinching his lip, Shōta leans forward and cums.

“Ah… c-cumming… fuck i’m cumming ngh–” 

His hips keep pounding forward, the tip of his cock that would be freely filling up your cunt with his seed is being saturated by the walls of the rubber condom keeping his semen inside. Right when he’s about to slow down, you grasp forward to scratch on his arm and twitch forward.

“W-wait! Please don’t…. Don’t stop– i’m gonna cum”

And who is he to ever deny you?

Ignoring the twinge of overstimulation, Shōta keeps pounding his now semi back inside over and over again; gyrating his hips slightly to grind against the rough patch of your g-spot with each movement. The sensation is overwhelming, and with a whine, your jaw goes slack and a pleasure begins to wash over you– until it stops. 

Fluttering your eyes open and panting as you come down from your high, you pause and bring a hand up to push sections of your hair away from your face. You just came…right? Removing your palm from your forehead, you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch the way Shōta slowly slides his length out of your cunt with a soft hiss.

Wait… what just happened? Did you cum so hard you blacked out–

Red irises glow above you and a small smirk is plastered on his lips as your eyes open in shock.

“Wait, hold on a minute…Shōta– did you just erase my quirk?”

The red hum of his pupils cools back to their dark color as the man slides off the bed and pads over to the bedroom trash can and tosses the soiled condom into the bin. You sit further upright now and furrow your brows in frustration. It was the best orgasm of your life… or so you thought. 

The memory of him pounding into you and leading you right up to the edge ends with an annoying blur as Shōta saunters back to the bed with a new gush of confidence radiating from him.

“Mmm, what if I did?”

“You–!” sitting upright, you shove his shoulder and sit back down on the comforter which is now soiled in a puddle of cum that’s leaked from your cunt. “Why would you do that?!”

He shrugs slightly in feigned ignorance before moving to tilt his floor mirror slightly and returning to the night stand to pick up another small foil packet. Sitting in silence, you watch the way he takes a few breaths and strokes his semi to eventually build into another full erection. 

Shōta leans forward and connects his lips to yours so sweetly, as if he wasn’t just fucking the shit out you to then erase the memory of the best part. Pecking your jaw once, he crawls behind you and gently pushes your upper back to go down into the mattress and tugs your hips upright into a doggy position; you're directly facing the floor mirror and your own reflection.

With a hiss, he slides on a fresh condom and gently massages the globes of your ass before once again, gathering your slick and cum with his covered cockhead. 

Shōta peels his gaze from the twitch of your awaiting pussy and looks at you through the mirror, “I just want to make you remember it regardless of that quirk....” he pauses and sinks in the tip through the first ring of muscle, “Is it wrong of me to fuck you so well that it makes even my erasure not work? That even without that quirk, it’s seared into your memory?”

***

His proposition of having sex so many times that his erasure doesn’t work on wiping your memory of the sensation is a horny and kinky one you’d never think a reserved man like him would have. You go from doggy, to mating press, and then when his dick is sensitive from cumming so much, he fucks you on his fingers twice more for good measure. The evening ends with an attempt at shower sex that simply results in taking you on the bathroom floor when you complain the tiled walls were too cold to be fucked against. 

Your body is sore beyond imaginable belief, and you can’t recall how many times you’ve cum because somebody can’t seem to let you. Despite the rough and desperate sex, Shōta softens when it’s time to dress you in his spare boxers and t-shirt and climb into bed. It’s a weird form of intimacy that feels more vulnerable than the position you were tangled in just moments ago; in the back of both of your minds, you’re wondering when the best time to have the ‘what now’ conversation really is. Though this late, neither one of you makes a move to address it.

He doesn’t mind when your hair still damp from the shower creates a small stain on his nightshirt; tugging you in closer and inhaling the way your scent and his merge together. It’s an awkward few giggles at first, before you nuzzle into his chest and plant a few soft kisses to his pulsing heartbeat while Shōta tightens around your waist that keeps you close. 

It’s late. The alarm clock on his night stand reads 3:17am when you shut your eyes in his arms; the both of you having work in the morning but neither one of you bothering to mention it. Your breathing steadies out before he ever does, and a few gentle combs to the crown of your head and pecks to your forehead make Shōta wonder if maybe this was a dream. 

The air is silent, and right when he’s about to doze off, a soft ‘ping!’ rings out from the night stand beside him. Normally, he would ignore it and return to his slumber, but the late notification makes him wonder if it’s something more important. 

Begrudgingly moving his hand from your waist, careful to avoid waking you up, he turns around and taps on the screen to see not a text message– but a date reminder. Blinking the drowsiness away, and clicks it open and sighs at the note.

Upcoming event from user KAYAMA: Friday 8am

He can practically hear the woman’s voice through the phone from the memory.

‘If you don’t make a move, I'm giving it to Keigo by Friday morning.’ Too tired to deal with it now, he tosses his phone back on to the nightstand, face up, and turns back over to sleep with you in his arms.

a/n:

it's the moment we've all been waiting for, the chapter where you guys finalllly bang hehe

this chapter, while it was pre-written, took sooo much longer than I thought to finish [almost 12k words of pure sexual tension and smut]

the story continues on a bit more from here, wrapping up the loose ends with more added smut scenes littered here and there [maybe one or two more chapters which is crazy to think its almost over]

im so glad you guys like this series and i hope this filthy vile slutty chapter makes you happy [and horny] <333

likes/reblogs/comments all appreciated :)

and i love reading ur comments, you guys are so fucking funny I LUV U POOKIES -oatmeal

taglist: @idkidk32 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @aizawasbaeee @smashley351 @beachaddict48 @lynnesm @lashaemorow @kriscr0ss @hotvillianapologist @loverofdeepspace @lainlovelain @shslvampy @siraxealot

[inabsentiia]

I was kept away from my laptop all Sunday but you bet I'm feeling all those type bingos and making my own tomorrow.

[collophora]

Do yourself a favor and go read the entire fanfic work of @fanfoolishness

(In order: Under sun and shade, Blind Side, and Breathless (patching up is one of my fav too, I just had no cool sketch idea for it)

[lucabyte]

Olive Branch

Wrong Move

[fisherrprince]

Instead of writing a fanfic like a normal person this oneshot turned into two separate, contextless things,

[fadedlovemp3]

[anti-creepstick]

average lunatic playthrough

[gemharvest]

Hey Karl you think whenever BF or GF just hit Pico with a random hug no matter the circumstance his face just crumbles into the most vulnerable and yearning look and suddenly the hug lasts for 20 minutes because they don't have the heart to pull away when Pico lays his arms around their backs in the most gentle way possible

(id in alt - do not repost, please ask before using as icon/ banner etc.)

yeag..

Close-ups of my personal favorite shots LOL. I also really like how Boyf came out here but he's already Huge in the piece so he doesn't need a close-up.

Do you ever think BF and GF get super emotional when he's soft with them? This guy, known for his fuckin' Bite with an attitude developed partially for self-defense, melting at their touch and allowing them to see his more gentle side? Something that nobody else will ever get to see?

The demon and the rapper are nice by default. Boyf can be a bit of a menace and Girlf is not afraid to show her demonic side when necessary, but they're kind to others as a default, maybe even to a fault. Not that Pico doesn't ever show kindness to others, but he's usually prickly and standoffish; his kindness could come off in ways that read almost as passive aggression. And yet, around the two idiots (used affectionately lol) he's like putty in their hands.

Anyways idk what I'm on abt really I just think if you gave him the choice he would literally melt into their embraces. Safe, and protected in their arms; for once, he isn't the one who has to do the protecting. I think the worst part of a hug to him would be having to let go.

[artuurle]

I find I'm still stuck in place after so long.

[anna-scribbles]

they should've been at the club(infertility treatment centers)

[crossbackpoke-check]

blessed be (lorscher bienensegen) | telling the bees (wiþ ymbe)

"Bees" [remixed, abridged], Claudia Emerson // "Letter to Someone Living Fifty Years from Now" [remixed. abridged], Matthew Olzmann // "Letter to my Great, Great Grandchild" [remixed, abridged], J.P. Grasser | Len Redkole, Nina Weiss, Brian Babineau, Christian Peterson, Mitchell Leff, Dave Isaac, Megan DeRuchie

[everye]

day 23-24: PRICE OF SALVATION