#What are you still doing here? The show's over.

[sincerelyneo]

diet pepsi | n.jm

“losing all my innocence in the back seat”

📀now playing: diet pepsi by addison rae

❯ summary: Jeno has one rule — his little sister is not allowed at street races. Jaemin knows this, and still, he can’t help but feel a thrill when he spots you sneaking out to watch him race. That is, until he sees you with another guy, and suddenly, he’s all in favor of Jeno’s rule. And he’s pretty sure that rule also means he should intervene and give you a ride home.

❯ pairings: jaemin x virgin fem!reader

❯ genre: brother’s best friend, smut, racing!au

❯ words: 5.6k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, swearing, arguing, jealously, pet names, car sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), oral sex (fem!receiving), fingering, virginity loss, slight corruption kink, bit of angst, ‘daddy’ mentioned once but not in a kink way?, jaemin is lowkey a dramatic asshole in the first half, mention of marking, reader uses she/her pronouns, literally just a jealous brother’s best friend trope because it eats every time

Jaemin’s blood runs cold when he sees you—wait, what are you even doing here?

He’s never been so tense in the driver’s seat before. He’s usually all calm and controlled, razor-focused on the track, with only one thing on his mind: winning. And he’s pretty damn good at it. But today, he can’t seem to focus. Not with you—Jeno’s little sister—standing right there on the sidelines, sticking out like a beacon in a crowd of rowdy onlookers.

So out of place, timid and awkward. Normally, he’d find it cute if he wasn’t so pissed that you’re even here. You don’t belong among his reckless racer friends, the ones with wandering eyes; and the girls with short skirts, heavy perfume, and sharp eyeliner.

He’s never been this distracted at the starting line before, never found anything particularly interesting to gaze at through his freshly cleaned windshield. But there you are. 

Ripped blue jeans clinging to every curve that he’s spent years thinking about—too many nights with his hand wrapped around his cock, imagining how his fingers would mold and print into the soft flesh of your skin. And those cherry-red lips—they make pride swell in his chest, a small thrill from knowing he’s the only racer here with a red car. It’s probably just a coincidence, but Jaemin lets the possessive part of his mind take over, because he wants nothing more than to see that red smeared around your cheeks as he kisses you—wants it to stain him like a claim.

God, what’s he even thinking?

You’re his best friend’s little sister. Off-limits.

Speaking of which, why are you here? Jeno’s not racing tonight, and he’d kill you if he found out. Actually, Jeno would kill him, even though Jaemin had no idea you’d even show up. Jeno hated you being at the races on a good day, let alone when he wasn’t here to keep an eye on things.

And maybe that’s why, for the first time, Jaemin’s gaze drifts to his side mirror as he speeds off. Because Jeno’s not here to watch over you—so he has to. Yeah, that’s it. It’s for Jeno’s sake. Definitely not because he’s worried about you. And definitely not because he likes the way your cherry-red lips part in a cheer—a cheer he likes to imagine is all for him.

Who’s he kidding? Jaemin loves knowing you’re here, watching him race. Honestly, it’s the biggest rush he’s ever felt—the purest shot of adrenaline—and he’s never pushed this hard on the track. But right now, he only wants to win for you.

And he does, slamming on the brakes, coming to a screeching halt the second he crosses the finish line. A few friends clap him on the back as he gets out of his car, congratulating him, but he doesn’t care about them. He only wants you—to hear you say he did great, to see that proud look in your eyes. He wants you to beg him not to yell at you for sneaking in tonight… or worse, promise he won’t tell Jeno.

Except, Jaemin’s not so sure he can negotiate on the “no yelling” part of that deal. Not when he spots you in the crowd, looking up at Jisung. Jisung, who’s got your attention on him instead of his win. Jisung, who’s making you laugh—and Jaemin knows he’s not that funny. Jisung, who’s handing you a can of Diet Pepsi—and you’re just taking it, smiling at him with those red lips, lips that don’t belong to him. 

Jaemin knows Jisung doesn’t have a bad bone in his body—Christ, the guy wouldn’t hurt a fly, and he’s one of his racer friends. Still, he doesn’t like the way you lean in when you laugh or how you’re looking up at him with pretty eyelashes fluttering. It makes something stir in him, something sharp and possessive. Without thinking, he storms over, snatching the damn can from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in the process.

You gasp, the sound almost too soft, "Woah, Jaem–"

"What are you doing here, Y/N?

You stumble back, heart skipping in your chest. He’s looking at you like he’s about to devour you whole. Gaze locked with yours, primal and urgent, scanning you with a heat that makes your breath hitch, throat going suddenly dry. You came here to see him—no one else. But the way his eyes are on you now...you don’t know whether telling him that would be a good idea. 

You swallow hard, feeling small beneath the weight of his stare. “I—uh, I—I’m just… here to watch,” you mumble. "I didn’t think it’d be a big deal..."

Jaemin doesn’t respond right away, his eyes narrowing as they flick over you, then over to Jisung, then back to you. "Alone?" he finally asks. "You just showed up here by yourself?"

“Well yeah–I didn’t think anyone would mind..."

"Jeno’s gonna fucking kill you when he hears about this," he mutters exhaling sharply, the tension in his jaw is visible as he crosses his arms. "You know he doesn’t like you being here.” His eyes flicker to Jisung for a moment before they shift back to you, a little colder. "And I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know you’re accepting drinks from other racers, huh?”

Your brow furrows, a tinge of annoyance creeping in. "It’s just a can of Diet Pepsi, it’s not—"

Jaemin cuts you off. "It doesn’t matter what it is," he snaps. "What matters is that you’re here, without telling anyone where you were going. Without Jeno knowing." He shakes his head in disbelief. 

You scoff. "I’m an adult, Jaemin. Jeno’s not my keeper, and neither are you–"

Jaemin’s jaw tightens, and something flickers in his eyes—something dark. But just as quickly as it appears, it’s gone. "That’s not the point, Y/N," he growls, his voice lowering. "The point is you’re here, at a street race, by yourself. You think that’s smart? You think that’s safe?" He takes a step closer.  "What if something happened to you?" 

"I’m fine, Jaemin. I can take care of myself, okay?" Your voice cracks, frustration spilling out, but the sound doesn’t make Jaemin soften like it usually would.

He steps even closer, towering over you, his presence dominating, and you can feel his breath on your face, hot and quick. “This—this shit—" he gestures around to the crowd, the cars, the racers that surround you both, "this is not safe for you. You shouldn’t be here."

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, jaw set as you refuse to back down. "Why? You and Jeno come here every other weekend?” What’s the big deal?" 

"The big deal, Y/N, is that you're a pretty girl, surrounded by a bunch of horny assholes who'd love nothing more than to corrupt a sweet little thing like you."

Your breath catches in your throat, and your mouth goes dry as his words hit you like a punch. You blink, trying to process, but the anger in his eyes is enough to make your pulse quicken. Jaemin must realize what he’s said because there's a brief moment of hesitation. He clears his throat, trying to regain control.

"And you never told anyone," he tries to add, his voice a little less steady now, "And you're letting random guys buy you drinks—"

"I already told you. It was just a Diet Pepsi, Jaemin. You’re blowing this way out of proportion!" You cut him off. 

You don’t even know what you’re arguing about anymore— and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t either—it’s like he’s mad for the sake of being mad, the two of you going around in circles.

And frankly, you're tired of it. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. You’ve always had a thing for Jaemin, and now was supposed to be your chance—your shot to make him see you as more than just Jeno’s little sister. You knew he’d be distracted with the race, but you thought if you showed up, maybe he’d finally notice you, really see you. But instead, he’s making it perfectly clear that you’ll never be anything more than that girl he feels the need to protect.

“Stop treating me like a child, Jaemin,” you sigh. “I’m not some fragile little girl who needs you to babysit her." 

You turn on your heel, ready to walk away from him, but before you can take more than a few steps, Jaemin’s hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"No. We’re not done talking."

He steps forward again, grip on your limbs tight but not painful, and before you can even process what’s happening, he’s pulling you toward the exit, the sound of your shoes hitting the pavement is far too loud in the heavy silence that’s settled. 

"Jaemin, wait!" You tug against him, stumbling slightly, trying to free your wrist from his grasp. "I’m not going anywhere with you. I told you, I don’t need you babysitting me—"

"I’m not asking." His voice is low and final. "You’re going home, and you’re going with me."

"Let go of me!" You hiss, still trying to yank free, but he just tightens his grip, pulling you with him as if you’re a ragdoll.

Jaemin finally stops, turning to face you, his eyes sharp with frustration. He growls at your protesting, stepping into your personal space. "I’m taking you home, Y/N. Don’t argue with me."

You stare up at him, chest heaving with anger and something else—something you don’t want to admit to yourself. "You’re insufferable," you mutter, but it’s weak. 

You know you’re defeated. There’s no point in fighting him anymore. His presence is suffocating, overwhelming, and every fibre of your body knows he’s not going to let this go until he’s got you back home. You have no choice but to comply really. And you groan whilst slipping into the passenger seat of his car, imagining the story he’s going to muster up for your brother. 

Jaemin gets into the driver’s seat, his body tense and irritated, and you almost feel bad that he can’t celebrate his win—almost. He places the can of Diet Pepsi in the cup holder, the soft clink of the can echoing through the car. Then, without breaking his focus, his gaze flicks to you, his voice low and commanding.

“Seatbelt.”

You huff, rolling your eyes as you slide it on. “Yes, daddy.” 

The moment the words leave your mouth, Jaemin’s jaw tightens, the muscle flexing under his skin. His eyes darken for a split second, a dangerous glint flashing, something that makes your pulse stutter for just a moment. His fingers curl around the steering wheel, gripping it a little tighter than necessary as he tries to compose himself.

He clears his throat, shifting slightly in his seat, nostrils flaring. “Don’t push your luck, Y/N.”

You sink into your seat with a sigh. The silence in the car hangs as he drives, thick with awkwardness and annoyance. Your throat still feels dry from the argument, and before you can even think about it, you reach for the can. The cold metal soothes your fingertips. But the second your lips brush against the rim, you can feel Jaemin’s eyes on you—hot, intense, and focused.

You can feel him watch your every move, and as you pull the drink away from your lips, his eyes narrow in on the red stain your lipstick left on the silver rim. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, jaw tightening with it, his gaze flickering between your lips and the can in your hand. Without warning, he snatches it from your fingers, one hand still on the wheel, eyes focused and full.

Then, Jaemin presses his own lips against the spot where yours just were, right over the mark you left. Sipping the drink slowly — savouring it.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask, voice a little breathless, startled.

Jaemin’s eyes widen, and for a split second, his grip tightens on the can before he abruptly pulls it away from his mouth, tossing it into the cup holder without a second glance. His brows furrow as he tries to make sense of his own actions, as if he’s suddenly aware of how ridiculous he must look. His mind is reeling—over a simple lipstick mark on the rim of a can. Something so innocent, yet it’s driving him crazy.

He clears his throat, trying to regain an ounce of composure, but his voice cracks slightly. "I was, uh..." He hesitates, biting back a sharp breath, his eyes flickering to the road before snapping back to you. "Just making sure it wasn’t spiked…?"

It sounds weak, even to his own ears, and he knows you’re not buying it. The way your lips part tells him everything. You narrow your eyes at him, a little too sharp for comfort. 

“Spiked?” You glance at the cup holder, where the can now sits innocently. “How would you even know from the taste, Jaemin? Not to mention Jisung gave me this, that boy wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Jaemin knows that. Still, he curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair as the frustration builds in his chest. His entire excuse is a mess, just like the thoughts spinning in his head.

"Look, let’s call it precautionary, okay?" His voice is clipped and there’s a tightness to it. "Don’t make it a big deal."

You lean back in the seat, a small bitter laugh escaping you. “Me making things a big deal? Oh, the irony.”

He doesn’t respond or bite back or try for the final word and it makes the silence thicker. Jaemin’s grip on the wheel is so tight his knuckles are white, and honestly, you don’t know how long you can keep doing this.

“You're impossible, you know that?" The words slip out before you can stop them, and your chest tightens as soon as they do. "I didn't come here for you to babysit me or make me feel like I need your protection. I came here because I—" You stop yourself. 

Jaemin's head snaps to you, "Because you what?" 

For a second, you can’t speak. The words are right there, but they feel too big, too much to let out. You’re caught between the urge to spill it all or keeping it hidden, scared to change the dynamic. But you’ve been pretending for too long, playing by the rules, and now, you want to stop hiding.

“I came here because I wanted you to see me,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “Not as Jeno’s little sister. Not as some kid. I wanted you to see me… as me.”

Jaemin doesn’t react, not at first – well, he does, but it’s subtle. His hands go completely white around the wheel, his jaw clenched so tight you can almost hear it. Without saying a word, he pops the indicator on and pulls over, the tyres screeching slightly as he brings the car to a sudden stop.

You freeze, and a small wave of panic bubbles up inside your chest. Did you say the wrong thing? Did you make it weird? He’s your brother’s best friend, and now you’ve crossed that weird line that’s bound to make everything awkward. Jeno’s gonna kill you.

You swallow hard, waiting for him to snap, to tell you how messed up this whole thing is.

But he kisses you. 

His hand on your cheek, without warning, pulling you into him, and consuming your lips with a force that steals the air from your lungs. It’s not gentle like you expected him to be. He’s typically always gentle with you — unless he’s mad, which right now, he is. This kiss is desperate. Hungry. And you like it because it’s the kind of kiss that makes your body forget how to breathe. The kind of kiss that tells you he doesn’t see you like a kid – like Jneo’s little sister.

“You drive me fucking insane, you know that?” Jaemin growls, nudging your noses together. His hands find your waist, to grip it. “You walk around in those jeans clinging to your ass, with your cheeks flushed, and that fucking lipstick the same shade as my car.”

You giggle softly against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. “You noticed?”

“Of course I fucking noticed,” he groans.

Jaemin’s lips trail down your jawline, each kiss slow, and teasing, and needy. The desperation in his movements is evident like he’s trying to savour every inch of your skin. The feeling is foreign to you—each soft press of his lips sends a rush of heat through your body. The simple touches make you gasp, drawing a low, satisfied groan from him as he feels the reaction in your body.

His breath catches, lips brushing softly along the sensitive curve of your neck as he pulls you closer. His hands tighten around your waist, and the pleading in his voice intensifies, but there’s no mistaking the hunger in it. He’s holding back, trying to keep his composure.

“Tell me this is a bad idea, Y/N,” he whispers, his lips grazing your skin with kisses. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

Your breath is shallow and you can’t help the way your body reacts to him. The way your hands find their way into his hair, fingers threading through it as you desperately tug on it, unsure of what else to do. 

“Please, angel, you have to say no,” he murmurs into your neck, his voice low and desperate. 

“Don’t want to,” you whimper, shaking your head again. “Want you, Jaem. Always wanted you. Only you.”

"Fuck..." he groans, his lips trailing away from your skin to look at you.

And what a pretty sight you are. Eyes glazed with lust, pupils blown wide, dilated with something raw and needy. So innocent, so forgiving, so eager – so fucking his. It’s enough to make him painfully hard, though he was already straining. Hearing you say you've always wanted him – and only him – had already sent a rush of heat straight to his cock.

Jaemin can’t help himself. His hand reaches out to caress your cheek again, his thumb teasing the softness of your bottom lip. You gasp, and his pupils darken, fixating on the way your mouth parts, the red colour staining his thumb. It’s everything he’s ever dreamed of—a perfect fantasy. 

“You’re gonna get me in so much trouble, gorgeous.”

He’s still hesitating, and you can feel it — you fucking hate it. Something takes over you, and without thinking, you take his thumb into your mouth, deep, sucking hard. Jaemin practically growls, his lips parting as a hiss escapes him from the sight. 

A switch flips, and in one smooth, deliberate motion, he yanks his thumb from your mouth, kills the engine, and climbs into the backseat. His eyes are sharp as they focus on you, which tells you to follow suit. He doesn’t care that on paper this is a ‘bad idea’. His cock is telling him it’s the best one he’s ever had.

It’s clear the moment you climb into the backseat, the way his body shifts into something animalistic. You try to settle beside him, but Jaemin doesn’t let that happen. He grips the hem of your shirt, yanking you down and onto his lap. The heat from his body radiates through the thin fabric of your clothes, his chest pressing hard against yours as his hands slide possessively around your waist.

His hands roam down your back and you can feel the hard press of him against your ass. It makes your pulse spike and your sweet red lips fall open for him, making him smirk with pride. His lips trail down to your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he murmurs your name, low and rough.

It’s all-consuming. Hot and desperate. Panting and breathless. Bodies moving in sync. The car heats up from your bodies softly grinding against each other. His hands are everywhere. 

“Angel,” he growls, his voice low with restraint, “if you keep grinding on me like that, I won’t be able to stop.”

You bite your lip, keeping your rhythm steady, your hips pressing into his. “Good.”

Jaemin catches a hand around your jaw pulling you away from his lips. “I’m serious, Y/N. Are you sure you want this?”

You nod, your gaze heavy with need.

He shakes his head, “I need words, gorgeous.”

“I want this.”

Such a simple phrase shatters his restraint, unravelling him completely. With a growl, he tosses you onto the back seat, lips trailing hotly down your body until he’s between your legs. His fingertips graze the waistband of your jeans, and he leans in, voice a low whisper.

“Can I?”

You nod, but he shakes his head, his eyes dark with hunger. “Say it.”

“Yes...” You breathe, the word barely escaping your lips, but it’s all he needs.

The jeans slide down your hips and ass, past your thighs, until they’re bunched around your ankles. Jaemin’s eyes flicker down, landing on your panties—darkened with dampness.

"So wet from just a little grinding?" He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "So fucking cute."

A rush of heat floods your chest. You’ve never done this before. And suddenly, it’s all too much, too fast. His words, your own desperate need, the car, the argument... everything crashes together. Without thinking, you press your legs closed, embarrassed by your body's reaction.

Jaemin's brows furrow as he watches you closely. "You okay?"

Your cheeks burn with a blush, stuttering as you struggle to find your voice. "I-I-uh," you falter, hoping he’ll say it, ask you the question. But he doesn’t. His eyes are fixed on your mouth, waiting for you to say it.

"I’ve never done this before."

Jaemin’s eyes flicker with something dark before he hums lowly. “You still want this?”

You nod, not trusting your voice.

“Words, Y/N.”

“God—yes.”

A satisfied smirk curves on his lips. “Good,” he murmurs. “Your body’s a fucking work of art I’ve been dying to see, and I never want you to feel embarrassed about showing it to me—and only me, yeah?”

This time, you don’t nod. You meet his gaze, voice steady as you tell him, “Yes. Only you.”

He smiles, hands resting on your knees as he gently eases them apart, his gaze fixed on you, completely mesmerized. If someone had told him this was how he’d be celebrating his win tonight, he’d have laughed in disbelief.

But now, his knuckles brush over the front of your underwear, a feather-light touch that sends a spark through you. Your hips react on their own, bucking slightly as his fingertips tease your sensitive nerves through the thin damp fabric.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

He drags his fingers to your waistband, sneaking underneath to run a soft finger up your slit, drawing a gasp from your lips. He takes that as permission to slip the pair down your legs, meeting the same fate as your jeans somewhere in his car. 

Jaemin keeps his eyes dead set on you as his fingers work to find your clit. The moment he does, he starts working slow, taunting patterns against it, each movement deliberate and unhurried. The sensation is leg-numbing, sending waves of pleasure through you—so much better than when you do it yourself. 

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands, “I wanna know how I’m making you feel. Tell me.”

Your mind is spinning, words slipping through your grasp, and all you can manage is a choked, incoherent moan. It’s not enough for him. Dissatisfied, he sinks his middle finger into your pussy at your silence. You jolt at the intrusion, the feeling intense and foreign, but his eyes stay locked on you, waiting.

“Tell me,” he groans, relishing in the feeling of how tight you grip around his finger.

“F-feels good,” you manage to stammer.

“Yeah?” he taunts, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips as he slowly picks up the pace. “Want more?”

“Yes–” you nod eagerly. He wastes no time, slipping his ring finger inside to join the first, matching the rhythm, savouring the warmth encapsulating around him, and you unravel beneath him.

You watch him through half-lidded eyes, breaths shallow and quick, completely undone from the tortuous pace of his fingers. Jaemin’s expression softens as he takes you in, a quiet, satisfied coo slipping from his lips.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, “So sweet… so vulnerable just for me.”

A low chuckle escapes him as he feels your walls threatening to tense, wanting to flutter around his fingers, and it sends another wave of pride through him. He shifts his eyes down, and without hesitation, takes your clit into his mouth, swirling his tongue in slow, devastating circles.

If he’s going to make you cum for the first time, it’ll be on his fingers and his mouth—he’ll make sure of it.

“S-so good, Jaem—” you gasp, voice trembling as his mouth and fingers work in perfect sync, pushing you closer to the edge.

He hums against you, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through your body. “Yeah?” he murmurs, lips still pressed to your skin. “Gonna let go for me, huh? Let me feel it.”

His words, his touch—it’s all too much, and you can feel every nerve on fire as he coaxes you over the edge until you’re cumming from the steady rhythm of his fingers and the relentless, teasing laps of his tongue. You're a shuddering mess beneath him from the orgasm he’s given you. 

He fucking loves it, looking in complete awe.

As you start to come down, muffled whines still slip from your lips, riding out the aftershocks of your release.

“What is it?” he prods, his voice smooth but persistent, but all you can manage is a frustrated sigh, annoyed with his stupid teasing tone. “Angel..I don’t know what you want if you don’t tell me.”

"All I want is—" You gasp when he lightly brushes your sensitive clit again,"—your cock."

A smug smirk tugs at his lips. His hand slides to rest possessively on your hip as he moves to hover above you, his gaze locking with yours.

“Are you sure?”

You nod, your lashes fluttering with need, and he takes that as permission to rid himself of his pants, his hand wrapping firmly around the base of his cock. He positions himself carefully, just at the edge of your pussy. 

It’s not how you’d pictured your first time—definitely not the romantic, cute scenario you’d always fantasized about. But one thing was certain: Jaemin was here, and that’s all that really mattered. Though, you hadn’t expected him to be this… big.

He picks up on the hesitation in your eyes, sensing the tension coiling tight in your chest.

With deliberate slowness, he slides his length teasingly between your drenched folds, making your breath catch as your nerves tense.

“I’ll take it slow,” he pulls down to murmur against your lips. 

You nod, your lip caught between your teeth, biting down hard enough to taste the metallic tang as he presses his tip against your cunt. His other hand grips your hip, his fingers digging in as he applies pressure, holding you in place. He stays perched above you, eyes fixed on your face. 

"Keep looking at me," he says, watching the way your face squirms. "Please."

His begging has you fighting to keep your eyes from fluttering shut, staying locked on him as you watch the way his pink lips part, the way they twitch, holding back a moan when he inches forward just enough to feel his tip slip past the threshold.

He pushes forward in a slow, savouring motion, and when he finally sinks into you completely, you stretch around him. Your brows furrow, caught between the sting of pain and the rush of pleasure. His teeth catch his lower lip, holding it there as a low, skin-tingling moan rumbles deep in his chest, his body staying still, giving you a moment to adjust.

“Please move,” you beg, barely able to get the words out, desperation lacing your voice.

He struggles to keep his breathing steady as he watches your face, studying it for any sign of discomfort. Once he’s sure you’re fine, he begins to draw his hips back slowly, his movements deliberate and deep, wrecking you as he rolls his hips forward, filling you again.

Your eyes want to flutter shut, the bliss almost too much to keep conscious but you want to please him. Jaemin pulls you closer, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss, and you moan into it, the sound pulling a breathless, stomach-knotting whine from him.

He increases his pace, and you cry out, your head falling back as your hips begin to meet his. One of Jaemin’s hands tightens around the side of your waist, grounding you as he drives deeper, faster, harder — greedy. 

You move feverishly, hips bucking wildly as you try to take him deeper, craving the way his cock stretches you, hitting every nerve with overwhelming pleasure.

"You're so fucking beautiful," he gasps. "Keep looking at me. I wanna see how pretty you look when I’m making you feel good."

You can only respond with a breathless gasp that catches in your throat as he buries himself deeper, rolling against you whilst your nails dig into the fabric on his shoulders.

His hand slips from your hip for a moment, reaching for your fingers to guide them down where your bodies are connected. His fingers curl around yours, bringing your hand to your throbbing clit. You take the hint, fingers moving instinctively to find the sensitive bundle, desperate to ease the tightness building in your abdomen.

"Not gonna last long, angel," he breathes, his voice ragged. "But I need you to feel good."

"Fuck," you whimper. Your hips begin to writhe, chasing the pleasure as every part of your body burns with need.

“So fucking warm and wet and tight,” he groans, forehead slick with sweat. 

Your bodies feel like they’re burning, the car steaming up with heat, the windows fogging so thickly that you leave a handprint on the glass as you steady yourself against Jaemin’s building deliberate thrusts. 

He’s fucking into you with an erotic urgency, as if he’s trying to spill out every fantasy he’s ever had about you since Jeno introduced you. It’s like he’s remembering, all at once, that he’s broken all the rules—off-limits, bro code—and he doesn’t care anymore. Doesn’t regret it one bit. Because the feel of you on his cock is totally worth it.

Your stomach starts to tremble as warmth floods your lower half, your muscles contracting and fluttering around him. The feeling overwhelms you, and it only encourages him to slow his rhythm, to drag out your orgasm as long as possible. 

Jaemin finally caves, moving his face to nuzzle against you. Your hands find his hair, tugging him up so you can kiss along his neck, your lipstick staining his flesh, marking him with that signature red colour.

You keep your hips rolling with his, even after the earth-shattering orgasm he’s just given you. Every cry, whimper, and moan spills from the back of your throat at the force of him, your voice chanting his name in a string of desperate mumbles. Your body convulses and shakes as you clamp around his length, and he grunts at the feeling, whispering praises to coax you through it.

He snaps his hips upward, grinding his body against you to savour the feeling. His muscles begin to shudder, jolting as he gasps for air, his own orgasm hitting him hard.

Hearing and feeling him lost in so much bliss only stretches the aftershocks of your release, both of you a mess of limbs and shameless sounds. Then, you feel him still completely, his release erupting in warm spurts, filling you and making you feel full of him. He’s everywhere—his scent, his kisses, his cum.

You’re left utterly spent, like a limp puddle, but Jaemin stays closely intertwined with you. You both inhale ragged breaths, neither of you daring to break apart. You’re reduced to fluttering glances weak panting and slick skin.

Jaemin’s eyes shift toward the side window, his fingers gently combing through your hair before he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

And when he finally tries to move, there's a sudden clink, and the faint sound of liquid splashing. You both glance down at the Diet Pepsi can now toppled over and spilling its contents all over the car seat. A muffled chuckle escapes Jaemin's lips as he shakes his head.

“That stupid fucking drink,” he mutters with a grin. 

“You should be grateful,” you hum, “Without it, we probably would never have fucked.”

Jaemin shakes his head and laughs, but the humour quickly fades as his expression turns serious. He leans in close again, his lips brushing yours. 

“Not true,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted you ever since I met you. I would’ve made a move eventually.”

“Oh yeah?” You tilt your head, teasing him. “What’s been stopping you?”

“Jeno,” Jaemin says quietly, and it’s like it hits you both at once.

Your stomach twists in knots, the mention of your brother, Jaemin’s best friend, suddenly making everything feel... wrong. 

“What are we gonna tell Jeno?”

[maaarine]

Why are British teenage girls so unhappy? Here’s the answer (Caitlin Moran, The Times, Sep 13 2024)

"The report, by the Children’s Society, found that British 15-year-old girls are the most unhappy in Europe.

British girls aged 10-15 are “significantly less happy” with their life, appearance, family and school than the average boy — and their happiness is still declining.

Boys’ life satisfaction, meanwhile, remains broadly stable. (…)

But I still didn’t have an “aha!” moment about why this so disproportionately affects girls until… I talked to some teenage girls.

It was at a party, and I went to vape with them on the patio. Because I take my nicotine like children do.

“Duh — it’s the boys,” one said when I brought it up, as all the others agreed.

“The boys?” I asked.

My last book, What About Men?, had been all about how much boys struggle these days: their loneliness; their suicide rates. I’d spent the past year feeling very sympathetic towards boys.

“Yeah, well, who do you think they’re taking out their unhappiness on? It’s us,” another girl said.

“One boy at school used to draw a picture every day of how ugly I was,” a third girl said. “Every day for two years.”

“They’ve all got ‘Rate The Girls’ polls on their WhatsApps,” the first said. “They mark you down for weight gain, haircuts, what you say.”

“But then, if you’re hot, it’s just as bad, in a different way, because they’ll be talking about how they want to f*** you.”

The girls discussed coping techniques. Bad news: none of them worked.

“The only way you can stop them is if you become ‘one of the boys’ and hang out with them. But then,” the second girl said with a sigh, “all the other girls call you a slut. Because you’ve gone over to the boys’ side.”

“Surely it’s not all the boys?” I said. “There must be some nice boys?”

“Oh, yeah,” one girl said. “But they keep their heads down. Because… well, look.”

She showed me the Instagram account of her friend. Under every picture she posted of herself — smiling in a new dress; with her dog — dozens of anonymous accounts had replied with the most rank abuse.

“Fat.” “Slut.” “You gonna try and kill yourself again, for attention?”

“They’re all boys from her school,” she said. “And look, this one boy tried to defend her.”

I saw a series of messages from a brave teenage boy, posting things like, “You’re all big men, leaving these replies under anonymous accounts.”

As I could see, this boy immediately became a target too. Mainly accusations that he was “white knighting” this girl: “You wanna f*** her, bro?”

“So,” I asked, “you don’t think it’s social media pressure to be beautiful, or the economy, that’s making girls so sad?”

“Well, yeah, them too,” the first girl said. “But, Monday-Friday, 9-3, I’m not on social media. I’m not… in the economy. I’m just with these boys. And no one talks about how horrible they are.”

I thought about another recent report, showing a 30 per cent ideological gap between Gen Z men, who are increasingly conservative, and Gen Z women, who are increasingly progressive.

I thought about Andrew Tate, who has nine million mostly young male followers — and faces human trafficking charges, which he denies.

And I thought: maybe these girls are on to something. Maybe more people need to vape with teenage girls and ask them for the school gossip."

[fandomtrumpshate]

We're Still Here.

Eight years ago, when the results of the 2016 election became clear, a group of us pulled together what we thought would be a mid-sized fanworks auction as a way to throw some financial support to progressive organizations in need.

Since then, that circle has widened more than anyone could ever have anticipated. Our ever-growing community has done amazing things together, showing up for one another and for organizations on the ground all over the country doing vital, challenging work for vulnerable people.

We’ll still be here next year, but there’s another larger point to be made:

In this terrible time, it is still possible to build things together.

In fact, it is more urgent than ever that we build things together in order to bring the world a little closer to the world we want to live in.

There are people in your community online who need you. There are people in your neighborhood who need you, even if you haven’t met them yet — and if you haven’t, now is the time. We can and will survive, and help one another survive, by showing up for one another.

Take some time to mourn; we will be, too. And then let’s organize.

[amirasainz]

What about Norris reader (17) and Oldie and Kimi Antonelli have a crush on her. Lando, ever the overprotectiv brother, doesn't like this and the other drivers use it to their advantage, because they find this really funny. Reader is just clueless and thinks the boys are really sweet to her♥️♥️

Wait, why do I ship these three??

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo, babygirl 💕

Two for one

The bustling energy of the Mexican Grand Prix electrified the air as Yn Norris wandered around the paddock, wide-eyed with excitement. Her older brother, Lando, had arranged for her to come along this weekend, and she was thrilled to be there. Being just seventeen, this was one of her first big Grand Prix weekends on her own, without her parents or siblings (except Lando) and she couldn't wait to soak it all in.

As she explored the paddock, she suddenly heard her name being called. Turning around, she found herself face-to-face with Kimi and Ollie, both of whom had driven in Free Practice 1 that day.

"Yn! Fancy running into you here," Ollie greeted with a wide grin.

Kimi smirked, giving her a casual wave. "So, what do you think of Mexico so far?"

Yn smiled brightly. "It’s incredible! I’m so happy Lando invited me."

"Oh, he invited you, did he?" Kimi asked with a sly grin, glancing over his shoulder as if expecting Lando to pop out of nowhere.

Yn laughed, rolling her eyes. "Yeah, but he’s already being overprotective. He thinks I'm going to, like, get lost or something. I just wanted to go look around by myself, but he practically assigned me a bodyguard."

Kimi and Ollie exchanged amused looks. "Well, we’re here now. So, if you need someone to show you around or keep you company, I think we can handle that," Ollie offered.

"Yeah, you’re in good hands, Yn," Kimi added with a wink.

---

A little later, Lando noticed Yn with Kimi and Ollie, and immediately, he felt his older brother senses tingling. He walked up to them with an exaggeratedly casual stride, hands stuffed in his pockets but eyes locked onto Kimi and Ollie.

"Hey, Yn," Lando greeted her, then quickly turned to Kimi and Ollie. "What are you guys up to?"

Ollie raised his hands defensively. "Just chatting with your sister, mate. Nothing serious."

Kimi chimed in, smirking slightly. "Yeah, just giving her some company. It can’t be fun to wander around here alone."

Lando narrowed his eyes. "Well, she’s not alone. I’m here."

Yn rolled her eyes. "Lando, I’m fine. You don’t have to act like I’m five."

"Yeah, Lando, she’s fine," Ollie teased, nudging Lando’s arm. "Besides, it's not like Kimi and I are troublemakers."

Max, who had been watching from nearby, wandered over, grinning as he picked up on the situation. "Oh, looks like little Norris has some admirers."

"Yeah, careful, Lando," Checo joined in, laughing as he walked by. "You know, they say these drivers are charmers. Better keep a close eye on her, or she might run off with them to Yucatan."

Lando scowled, crossing his arms. "That’s not funny, guys."

Ollie looked at Yn, feigning a wistful expression. "Yucatan, huh? That could be fun."

Yn rolled her eyes again, laughing. "Ignore them, Ollie. You’re all acting like children."

Kimi leaned closer to her. "Maybe. But you know, Yucatan does sound like a pretty great idea."

Lando stepped in between them, giving Kimi a warning look. "Don’t even think about it, Antonelli."

Kimi laughed, but there was a hint of nervousness. As much as he enjoyed teasing Lando, he could feel Lando’s big-brother protectiveness radiating off him in waves. Still, he couldn’t resist pushing a little.

"Relax, Lando," Kimi said, holding up his hands. "We’re just here to make sure Yn has a good time."

"Under my supervision," Lando shot back, narrowing his eyes. He put an arm around Yn’s shoulder. "You’re staying close to me for the rest of the weekend."

Yn groaned, but Lando’s resolve didn’t waver.

---

The next day, Lando was more determined than ever to keep an eye on his sister. Every time Kimi or Ollie got close, he’d swoop in, leading her away or blocking their paths.

Eventually, Pierre caught onto the whole situation and couldn’t resist chiming in. "You know, Lando, if you keep this up, you’re going to scare away all her potential boyfriends."

Lando shook his head, exasperated. "That’s the plan, Pierre."

Carlos joined the fun, laughing. "Be careful, Lando. Vegas is just around the corner. Blink, and she might end up running off with Kimi or Ollie. Maybe even both."

Ollie, who had overheard, grinned, raising his eyebrows at Yn. "What do you think, Yn? Should we book tickets?"

Yn chuckled. "Oh, please. Lando would probably have a heart attack before we even left the airport."

Lando glared at them. "I’m serious. You two better not get any ideas, you stinky whankers."

Kimi shrugged, but his smirk didn’t fade. "Relax, mate. We’re just keeping her company."

Charles joined the group, looking thoroughly entertained. "I can’t wait for Vegas now. If this is how Lando is in Mexico, Vegas will be legendary. Maybe we’ll all get invited to Yn’s wedding."

Lando groaned, running a hand through his hair. "You all are impossible."

---

As the weekend progressed, Kimi and Ollie kept finding small ways to get Yn’s attention. They’d save her a seat, bring her snacks, and keep her laughing with stories and jokes. Each time, Lando was there, watching like a hawk.

At one point, Yn turned to him, exasperated. "Lando, seriously. I’m just hanging out with friends. Can you please relax?"

"I am relaxed," Lando replied, not convincing anyone.

Yn shot him an annoyed look. "You’re practically breathing down my neck."

Ollie leaned in, whispering, "Told you he’s overprotective."

Kimi chuckled. "You’re handling it well, though."

Yn laughed, shaking her head. "I think it’s actually you two who are nervous around him."

Both Ollie and Kimi exchanged guilty looks, though they quickly covered it with their usual confident smiles. But every time Lando was around, they seemed to straighten up a little, wary of his watchful eyes.

---

On race day, things hit a peak. Kimi and Ollie had managed to catch Yn alone, and they were chatting animatedly about everything from their goals in racing to funny stories from the paddock. Yn was laughing, completely unaware of the fact that both boys were subtly vying for her attention.

But it didn’t take long for Lando to find them, and he wasted no time inserting himself into the conversation.

"Hey, Yn, you ready to come to the garage?" he asked pointedly.

Yn glanced at Kimi and Ollie apologetically. "Duty calls, I guess."

Ollie gave Lando a pleading look. "Come on, Lando. Let her hang out with us for a bit longer."

Lando raised an eyebrow. "Why, so you two can keep flirting with her?"

Kimi flushed, stammering, "W-We weren’t—"

Yn stared at him in surprise. "Flirting? Seriously, Lando? We’re just friends."

"Exactly," Lando said, taking her by the arm. "And that’s all you’re going to be."

Max and Charles, who had been watching the entire exchange, burst into laughter. Charles clapped Lando on the back. "Relax, Lando. You’re acting like you’re her father."

Max nodded, grinning. "Good luck keeping her under control in Vegas. Don’t be surprised if she elopes with one of them. Or both."

Lando scowled, his grip on Yn’s arm tightening slightly. "Not happening. Not on my watch."

Yn sighed, throwing Kimi and Ollie a helpless look as she was guided away. They exchanged amused, slightly nervous glances, but it was clear that they weren’t about to give up. She blew them a kiss, which both Kimi and Ollie pretended to catch. Ollie put his "kiss" to his heart while Kimi put his on his cheek.

As Yn and Lando walked off, she glanced up at her brother, shaking her head. "You know, if you keep acting like this, no one’s ever going to want to date me."

"That’s the point," Lando muttered under his breath.

Yn laughed. "You’re ridiculous."

"And I’m your older brother," he replied, smirking. "Get used to it."

Behind them, Kimi and Ollie shared a look, nodding in silent agreement. They’d have to work harder to get Yn’s attention without incurring the wrath of overprotective older brother Lando. But they weren’t about to give up. After all, Vegas was coming up soon, and as much as Lando hated to hear it, the weekend held endless possibilities.

[aakeysmash]

prompt:

reader getting injured because she slipped in the shower, sukuna has to help her get to the hospital, where reader gets some pain meds making her kinda high. she confesses to him while being high

content: fluff, crack. reader is in the hospital and blood is named but there’s no gore. yuuji and sukuna are siblings. i love sukuna and i need him in my life so bad… someone PLS be my sukuna

“So, just to be sure: one margherita for me and one with sausage for you?” Asks you Yuuji while putting on his shoes.

“Yup,” you answer, popping the p. “Can I just have a quick shower while you’re gone?”

“Uhhh, sure, let me go ask Sukuna,” your friend tells you smiling and rushing up the stairs of his home.

You and Yuuji have been best friends since forever. You remember the first time you both cried your eyes out at the park in kindergarten because a lizard had just eaten the ladybug you had been watching for half an hour. Since that moment you’ve been attached at the hip, your homework filled afternoons in high school turning to pizza nights when both of your work schedules allowed you to now.

“Big bro said sure,” comes Yuuji’s voice from the end of the staircase.

“I did in fact not say that,” growls Sukuna from behind him. Sukuna is the same age as you and Yuuji, but he always seemed older. Sometimes wiser, but sure as hell more annoying than his brother. Hotter, too, but that’s a topic for another time.

“I didn’t ask you to join me, big boy,” you say sarcastically, fake smiling. He crosses his arms, leveling you with a bored look.

“Yuu, if you aren’t fast enough you’re not going to find her corpse when you get back,” he tells his brother, still staring you up and down. Yuuji sighs, tired, then opens the front door.

“Make sure to not kill each other. I have a shift after this, stop bickering. You two act like siblings more than I do with you, Sukuna,” he reprimands you both. You and his brother roll your eyes at the same time, then you push him out, closing the door in his face. You turn around and find yourself face to face with Sukuna's menacing grin.

“You have 5 minutes before I come knock at the bathroom door with a kitchen knife, doll.”

You’re scrubbing yourself clean with a random pine body wash you found in the shower when the playlist you put before entering the stall stops. You’re annoyed, because now you’re forced to listen to Sukuna’s ugly songs from the bathroom wall (that he’s blasting just to annoy you), so you try to reach your phone. You’re on your tippy toes, not wanting to get out completely, when you trip and fall since you didn’t wash the soap away from your body. You bump your head on the sink in front of the shower, hard, and you muffle a whine. You close your eyes as hard as you can and open the shower head with the room spinning inside your skull.

“Don’t open your eyes, don’t open your eyes or you’ll fall… fuck, it hurts so bad,” you tell yourself while you speed run the end of the shower and blindly put your shirt over your head. It’s not the first time you've bumped your head on something, you were a crazy kid, so you’ve learned to open your eyes only when you physically can’t function anymore or you'll start seeing stars immediately. You barely get to put your pants on when you notice your forehead feels wet, and you didn't even wash your hair. As you get out of the bathroom wobbling you touch your head. When you open your eyes, you see blood on your hand. The room spins. You barely have time to look up and watch Sukuna coming out of his bedroom frowning before seeing black dots in your vision.

You try opening your eyes, but they feel so heavy. Your body feels rather stiff. What's this smell?

"Oh, she's waking up," a female voice softly says from somewhere next to your right.

"Thank you, miss, I got it from here," a rough voice responds.

"Make sure she drinks a lot, and keep a couple of painkillers near you. The scans show she doesn't have any internal damage, but she hit her head pretty hard. She's going to have a big bruise for a couple of days," the female voice continues. You hear the man making a sound of affirmation.

There’s a brief pause. "Your wife is very lucky. It's not every day that a man takes a woman up four flights of stairs by simple arm strength," the woman concludes sweetly, getting out of the room after he responds with a grunt and closing the door behind her.

"Your ass is lucky I lied or they wouldn’t have let me in, dumbass. Open your eyes, I know you're awake," the voice you now recognise as Sukuna says, getting closer. You try opening your eyes, managing to focus your gaze on him. Everything feels so fluffy, apart from your throat. You cough, and you think you see him rolling his eyes before getting you a glass of water and sitting beside you on a chair. You gulp it down, still feeling fuzzy, then you blink a couple of times.

You gape at him. He's cute. “You look funny,” you say, poking his cheek. He’s so squishy. Like a little mochi. A little mochi filled with strawberries. Strawberries and cream. He slaps your finger away, and you put on a hurt expression. He huffs.

“Why am I here?” You ask. The more you look at him, the more heads he seems to have.

“You fell in the bathroom,” he says, straightening up from the chair and covering your right leg with the duvet the hospital gave you. You raise an eyebrow at his gesture, and he just rolls his eyes again. “Don’t want you to also catch a cold. Yuuji would kill my ass.” You just hum.

“I caught ya when you already fainted. Yuuji came back home and panicked, but he couldn’t back out from work, so I was stuck with your ass. Took ya here but the elevator broke down. And I ate your pizza, by the way. All this is gonna cost ya 200 dollars, cash,” he lists, sprawling back onto his chair, deadpan.

Silence engulfs the both of you, and you don’t know what to say. You heard what the nurse said and you are searching for a way to bring it up, but the words in your mind are all scrambled. It’s probably the morphine that you realise they gave you, IV still attached to your left arm. You open your mouth to say something along the lines of “I’d like to thank your gym membership for this,” but instead the words that leave your mouth are-

“I’d like you to be my husband.”

His eyes snap to your widening ones. “Wait that wasn’t what-“

“Huh?” He just replies, dumbfounded. You panic, waving your hands in the air between you two.

“No, what I meant was- like- thank you for getting me up here- can you stop looking at me with your weird 16 eyes?- not that you aren’t attractive! You’re super hot! But that’s not- oh god,” you whimper, rubbing your face, noticing how you’re just making the situation worse. You prepare yourself for his snarky comeback, closing your eyes, but everything is silent.

Suddenly, you hear him snort. You crack your eyes open, touching the big cotton gauze they put on your forehead. You must be hearing things. It’s definitely the morphine, there’s no way Sukuna is actually laughing.

“Yes, I’m laughing, doll,” he says, chuckling. You widen your eyes.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You cringe.

“Yeah, you kinda did,” he responds, smirking. You groan.

“Take me out to dinner first, damn,” he yawns. You jut your bottom lip out, frowning and giving him your middle finger. Then you register his words.

“You’d come? I mean, if I asked you out.”

“Well, if you’re paying,” he responds, shrugging. That’s still a yes, isn’t it?

He ruffles up his pink hair, black t-shirt straining across his bicep. You can’t contain the urge to poke the muscle.

“Stop touching me like I’m made of play dough, doll,” he sighs, slightly less annoyed than 5 minutes ago.

“Would you let me play with you if you were made of play dough?” you ask, words a little slurred, still poking his arm, and he flexes it. “Don’t show off,” you mumble.

“You’re even weirder when you’re drugged,” he grins. He kinda looks scary, though. If you didn’t know him, you’d piss yourself by looking at his sharp teeth.

“But would you or would you not?” You whine, dragging out the last word, letting your hand fall next to you. He misses the warmth of your hand, so instead, he just puts his on your thigh. To be warm, of course. The room is so cold. Yeah. Definitely because of the missing heat.

“Yeah doll, I would.”

[hoshifighting]

WARNINGS: jihoon dealing with an extremely horny reader, guided masturbation, smut, fingering, mentions of body fluids (cum/precum), humiliation, crying, overstimulation, lots of dirty talk, mentions of penetrative sex, teasing, clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, degrading.

@jihootea ALWAYS planting jihoon brainrot on meeee!! now i cant stop picturing how jihoon would deal with his partner when she's drop-head horny… he would be a MEANIE, like, no mercy. AND he can almost smell the horniness from you. even though he's turned back with his producing chair.

except you know, know, he’s aware. he can probably feel your eyes drilling into him, can hear the way you’re struggling to sit still, thighs rubbing together just enough to keep your sanity hanging by a thread.

and then, without even looking at you, he says, “you good over there? squirming like you’ve got a problem or something.” his tone is so casual it makes you want to throw something. it’s not even a question—it’s pure fucking tease, dripping with this smugness that makes you want to melt and scream at the same time.

“jihoon…” you whisper begging, but he just lets out this tiny scoff, like he’s already bored of you. he leans back in his chair, finally giving you his attention, eyebrow cocked like he’s waiting for you to entertain him.

“what?” he drawls, eyes sliding down to your legs, then back up to your flushed face. “you slut can’t keep that little thing between your legs under control?”

it’s embarrassing, the way he says it, like he’s talking about some little pet that you can’t handle. you bite your lip, trying not to combust as he looks you up and down, arms crossed, manspreading, all arrogant and completely unimpressed.

“if you’re that desperate,” he says, eyes narrowing, “why don’t you show me? right here...”

your mouth goes dry, heart slamming against your ribcage. but you can’t ignore the way his voice gets lower, like he’s waiting, daring you.

your hand’s barely down there inside your shorts, fingers brushing against the clit, when you hear him snap, “who said you could keep those on?” his tone’s rougher than usual. you’re quick to slide them off, hooking your thumbs in the waistband and slipping out of your shorts and panties in one go like they were one piece only. you toss them at him with a grin, watching his eyes light up satisfied as he catches them, raising an eyebrow at you.

he takes the panties from the bundle and brings them up to his face, holding your gaze the whole time. smirking. the way he watches you squirm, vulnerable in a way you never quite do with anyone else. it’s him. “getting all shy now? didn’t think you had it in you.”

you swallow, cheeks burning, but you don’t drop his gaze, even as he tilts his head.

“are you waiting for permission or something?” he snaps, that edge back in his voice. “didn’t i tell you to touch yourself? whats the hold-up? are you just that pathetic that you need me to walk you through it?”

you pout, voice coming out soft and whiny, “aren’t you going to help me?”

“oh, no, sweetheart. if you’re that desperate, you’ll just have to do it yourself. all by yourself, since you’re such a big girl already.”

your hand slides between your legs, finding that slick, that had been bothering you for hours already, you shiver as your fingers spread it over your folds, teasing your clit. his ears twitch up almost like a cat when he hears how wet you are.

“barely even touching yourself and already making a mess. and here i thought you had some self-control.” he drawls.

you whimper, biting your lip as you roll your fingers over your clit, feeling that ache, that need, building up. but he’s just watching, eyes raking over every inch of you with that judgmental gaze, making you feel ten times more exposed than you are.

“is that the best you can do?” he sneers. “pathetic. thought you wanted this, but you’re just playing around, aren’t you? can’t even get yourself off without me telling you what to do.”

you let out a frustrated whine, pressing harder, slipping a finger inside, anything to relieve that pressure, but it’s like his voice is right there, mocking you, judging every little movement.

“keep going,” he says, voice so cold that makes your skin shiver up. “maybe if you try a little harder, you’ll actually be worth watching. spread that pussy f’me.”

your fingers obey trembling as you slide them out to spread yourself for him, he sees the mouthwatering cream being expelled from the tight little hole. “look at that,” he sneers, tilting his head as he takes in the view. “so messy. you’re really that worked up, babe? got yourself all soaked just sitting here like a needy little slut.”

your breath hitches, a moan slipping out despite yourself as you finally push two fingers in, hips bucking, feeling that burn. his eyes gleam, watching the way you struggle to keep quiet, and he smiles, soooo pleased.

“aw, you’re whining already?” he coos, tone mocking, like he’s talking to some helpless, needy thing. “that desperate? thought you could handle yourself, but look at you—just a mess on my couch. tell me… wishing it was my fingers instead?”

you can’t help the whimper that escapes, hips lifting, and he catches it, eyes sparking.

“oh?” he chuckles, leaning in slightly. “or is it my cock you want, huh? that’s it, isn’t it? poor baby, too worked up to even admit it.”

the moan that slips from your lips is helpless, your back arching as you dig your fingers deeper, feeling the heat coil tighter. his smirk widens.

“then show me how bad you want it,” he murmurs, voice dropping lower. “curl those fingers up, just like that… think you can even get yourself close to how good i’d make you feel?”

you nod, whimpering as you obey, curling your fingers up to hit that weak spot, feeling the way it makes your toes curl and your thighs tremble.

your warning slips out in a shaky breath, “ji… wanna cum,” as you meet his gaze, eyes pleading. he watches you, eyes heavy hunger, one hand squeezing his length through his pants, jaw tight as he throws his head back for a second, like he’s savoring the sight of you so worked up.

when he looks at you again. “go on,” he coos, smirking as he tilts his head. “didn’t last long, did you?”

you feel your body tremble, hips jerking as your hand moves faster, fingers slipping inside as you cry out, not caring anymore how loud you are, a mess being created on his studio's sofa. but just as you start to come down, just as you think it’s over, he speaks again.

“who said you could stop?” he sneers, eyes narrowing as he watches you with that amused smirk. “you’re not done yet. keep those fingers moving. keep going for me.”

a whimper escapes your lips as your overstimulated body obeys, fingers shaky but pushing in deeper, pressing against that sensitive spot again. your hips buck up involuntarily, every nerve screaming pleasure giving you a new ache that has you gasping.

“jihoon, but—” you try, voice breaking, but he cuts you off, voice sharp.

“if you don’t keep going, there’s no chance in hell i’ll give you what you want.”

you bite your lip, a desperate moan slipping out as you force yourself to keep moving. your fingers finally slip out, drenched and trembling, but instinct pulls you to the sensitive bud, fingers barely brushing over it as you start drawing slow, shaky circles. the touch is too much, making your eyes squeeze shut as your legs shake on either side, instinctively trying to close, but you keep them open, fighting against every urge to stop.

your face frown and you feel a hot prickle at the corners of your eyes, your voice breaking, choked, as you mutter, “ji… can’t… i can’t take it anymore…” your lower belly clenches, your body spasming at every soft circle you trace, a tear slips down your cheek, face flushed and damp, as you shudder, fingers shaking as they push you to that razor-thin edge again.

he leans forward, catching every broken sound, every little sob, his smirk widening as he coos, “oh, poor thing… already crying?” his words make you shake even harder, your body backstabbing you as you keep going, fingers pressed firmly on that nerve.

your thighs are burning from holding yourself open, your sobs grow louder, broken and dumb, and he’s just sitting back, arms crossed, his forearm muscles popping, veins standing out as he leans forward, eyes fixed on every shaky fingering.

“isn’t this what you wanted, slut?”

a whimper escapes you, eyes blurry with tears as you nod, “j-jihoon… can’t…” your hips buck up, trying to escape your own hand.

“keep going thought you were horny. or were you just pretending?”

another whimper, tears spilling down your cheeks as you press down on that sensitive bundle of nerves, every little touch pushing you higher, closer to that edge you’re not sure you can survive again. “please… too much…,” you cry, voice cracked.

“too much? aww poor baby...” he taunts, shaking his head slowly.

your insides twist, so intense you’re not sure where one ends and the other begins. you curl over yourself. each touch making your vision blur. nerves fried until you’re nothing but a quivering, soaked mess on the couch, every last bit of strength melting out of you. you don’t stop until he finally murmurs,

“good girl. that’s enough.”

you collapse, body going limp, fingers sliding away as you fall back, every limb heavy and useless. your chest heaves, cheeks flushed, face still damp with tears, and hes on you in a second, leaning over, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, cheeks, lips.

“there ya’ go… you did so good, baby...” he whispers, like he’s helping you piece yourself back together. “my good girl, so perfect.”

you close your eyes, he shifts, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you close against his chest, and you sink into the comfort of him, exhaustion pulling you under as he strokes your hair, fingers gentle, calming.

“get some rest,” he murmurs, pressing a final kiss to your temple. “you’ll need it, sweetheart. when you wake up, i’m going to make sure you really can’t move. gonna fuck you so hard...”

[thecoochiefairy]

sniffles. suguru getou.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 blackfem!reader, drabble/headcannon, sick!suguru, grumpy!suguru, sweet!suguru,submissive!suguru, dominant! suguru, roleplay, black woman, vaginal penetration, rough, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, squirting, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, size kink, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ i’m just horny. sorry y’all.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ :: suguru is sick, and you, his girlfriend—just wants to nurse him back to health.

You should’ve brought your key. 

Standing across from the door, you impatiently knock again, waiting for your boyfriend to open it. With an unfortunate cold, he’d crawl for dramatics. Suguru was currently suffering with a deadly indignation— his allergies, and you knew that as soon as he felt sick, he was practically on his deathbed. He was already grumpy on a regular basis. His intimidating frame, dark hair and tattoos made him almost scary. But that’s what you loved, you weren’t afraid of what came with him. Here you were, knocking on his door as you awaited for him to answer, holding the bag of medicine and soup he requested.

You roll your eyes as you hear shuffling along the door, yet it doesn’t open. 

You then press impatiently, “C’mon, Suguru. You’re not gonna die from walking to the door.”

When the door opens, his broad frame towers over yours, black sweatshirt desperately trying to hide his muscular build, hair wrapped in a bun that nearly fell apart. His strident jaw glares down at you, glasses tilting as his eyes squint beneath the light of the sun. You notice the redness in his nose. 

You tilt your head as you greet, “Hey, Sexy,” jokingly seeing his appearance. 

He glares at you, his eyes showing no emotion. His allergies were hitting him hard and it was obvious. He was not a whiny man. But in sickness, he would not hide his complaints.

“Shut the fuck up,” He says with a grumble, opening the door wider to let you in nonetheless.

You hold the brown paper bag to your chest, walking in as you turn to him with a soft smile,  “I got you some stuff, my little sick pumpkin.” 

“I told you I didn’t want all that Mucinex and shit,” he grumbles, flopping himself along the couch, throwing his arms over his face with a groan. 

“Oh boy, hush. I told you that it’ll open up your sinuses. Why so grumpy?”

“My ears hurt—all that fuckin’ mouth you got, it’s making my head hurt too,” He says bluntly. 

 Was he being a little mean? Sure. That didn’t stop you—he didn’t want to admit it yet, but he loved being babied by you, and you knew that. He rolls onto his side, facing away from you as he mumbles something under his breath. Despite his protests, he was happy you were there. He missed you.

“Oh yeah?” You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms as you turn your head, “Maybe I’ll go back home. Leave you to die in your congestion.” 

He freezes at your words, the thought of you leaving and not staying by his side made him want to throw a tantrum. He scoffs and looks away, trying to mask his real feelings.

“Do it then. I don’t need your little ass.”

You roll your eyes. Coming closer, you hop yourself along his lap as his arms are still thrown over his face, the impact making him groan. 

You sigh sarcastically, “Poor baby…”

You then smack his arm, “Get the fuck up, Getou. Come take this medicine before I hurt you.” 

He grunts at the feeling of you on his lap, peeking behind his arm to fully see you. 

“Why should I?”

“Because I have a surprise for you,” you lean into his ear, voice warm and soft, “Don’t you wanna see it?” 

He hums at your words, his ears picking up on the word ‘surprise’. He turns to look at you with a slight look of confusion. 

“Maybe I do.” He says, his stubborn attitude slowly leaving.

He holds you around your waist with ease, leaning into your affection. Your nurturing aura made him soften his attitude, allowing you to finally take care of him.

He lets out a low grumble before correcting, “Hey, pretty baby.” 

“See? All you had to do was be nice,” you kiss his nose, “Hi,” you then say softly, exhaling as you stand from his lap, “Stay here. I’m gonna run to the bathroom, I’ll be back!” 

He grunts, allowing you to get up from his lap with no complaints. He missed you again. Nonetheless, he turns on his side, laying down along the couch as he waits for you to come back. 

Time passes, the impatience of this man making him sit up along the sofa, manspreading with his head back along the velvet material. As he thought about going up to check on you, he heard your voice. 

“Still sick, baby?”

You stand at the door—now in a completely different outfit. Wearing a white button up dress that clings to your frame, it looks to be a nurse’s uniform. It’s sheer, showing all your skin beneath the material, a heart along the chest pocket, your breasts nearly spilling from the top buttons that desperately hold them up. Your heels were tall, red bottoms matching the outfit you wear.

 “Are you ready for me to take care of you?” 

His eyes lock along your frame, tracing up and down your body hungrily in approval. His mouth went dry at the sight of your curves in the dress.

“You’re gonna’ be the fuckin’ death of me, you know that?”

His eyes scan you all the way down to your shoes before he tells you, “Come here.”

You giggle, “You shouldn’t be speaking to me like that, silly. I’m your nurse!” 

You twist your hips as you come forward, pulling the stethoscope from around your neck as you insist, “Now, tell me what’s going on with you, Mr…Getou, is it?”

You looked good enough to eat in that nurse's uniform.

You were right though. You were his nurse. He leaned back into the cushions of the couch, spreading his legs wider to give you enough room to move between them. 

He smirks at your comment, his body shifting up against the couch more. He plays along with you as well.

“Yes, it is.” He says, placing a hand on his chest, “I have a really high fever, I need extra care.”

You gasp softly, “A fever? I’m so sorry to hear that!” You shake your head, “May I…check where you feel warm?” You tilt your head, dark wavy hair flowing down to your hip, swaying over your shoulder.

His smirk grows at your words, raising an eyebrow in amusement. He invites, “Go ahead,” watching your soft curls dangle in front of your face.

He moves his body closer, his large frame hovering near you. He rests one hand on the back of the couch, the other coming to rest on the nape of your neck.

You lean closer,  pressing your hand against his forehead, “Mmm, feels a little warm here…” you then move it to his neck, “Feels a little warm here as well. What symptoms are you experiencing?”

He leans his head into your touch on his forehead, letting out a sigh from the contact. He then leans his head back, exposing his neck to you, Adam’s apple throbbing. He lets out a low grunt after feeling your hand on it.

“I’m experiencing dizziness, a sore throat...” He takes a moment to speak again, “And I feel very hot in certain places.”

“Hot…” you tsks, “Sounds painful. I think you may need some ice.” 

You stand from the sofa, going over to the fridge to grab a cup of ice as you ask, “You’re very…handsome, Mr. Getou. Do you have a girlfriend, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He watched you walk away from him, admiring the curve of your ass and the sway of your hips. He let out a low chuckle at your question, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah, I do,” he said simply, his gaze never leaving you.

You lean yourself into the fridge, twisting your hips as you sigh, “That’s too bad…the good ones are always taken, it seems.”

His lips curl into a smirk at your comment, his eyes narrowing just slightly. He watches you closely, studying every movement you make.

"I guess it depends on who you ask.”

You raise an eyebrow, “A bad boy, it seems.” 

“Shit. Might be.” 

You close the fridge as you have some ice water within your hand, making your way back towards him. 

“Sorry it took so long—“ 

It’s swift, you’re good at your game. You purposely trip, the ice water splashing all over your dress. 

You gasp, watching as the water soaks into the top of your dress, nipples poking through the material, completely exposing your bare chest. 

“Oh my goodness, Mr. Getou. I’m so sorry…” 

You lean down, beginning to wipe the floor with the napkin you hold. Your movements are natural as you arch your back, heels pointing towards the ceiling.

He felt his dick jump as you leaned down to clean. He swallows hard, his eyes fixated on you.

“‘Need to be more careful,” He warns you, his voice growing huskier.

“I’m so clumsy…” you pout, “…A patient of mine has never made me this nervous,” you admit with a weak smile, grabbing for the ice that’s still within the cup. 

You slow your movements, still in a crawling position as you look up to him, “Are you still feeling…hot?”

He smirks at your words, his body instinctively reacting to yours. He can feel himself getting harder under his pants, his breath hitching in anticipation.

“Hot as fuck. Damn near in hell.”

“I apologize…Let me help you cool down.” 

You’re a minx. Taking an ice cube within your mouth, you come forward, crawling your way onto his lap. You take him by his hair and tug his head back, leaning forward, running the ice along his neck, allowing the ice to melt within your mouth as you drag your tongue along his throat.

You murmur, “Is that better?”

His breath hitches as you crawl onto his lap, his body stiffening under your touch. He lets out a low growl at the sensation of the ice melting in your mouth, the coolness seeping into his heated skin.

"That's..." He pauses, trying to gather his thoughts amidst the haze of pleasure, "That's definitely helping."

Your mouth is still cold, moving down his chest, eyes still upon his as you say, “I don’t think your girlfriend would appreciate me assisting you in this way, Mr. Getou…”

"Fuck," he groans, his hands moving to your waist as he pulls you farther onto his lap.

He lets out a low growl at your words, his grip slightly tightens in your hair. He looks down at you, his eyes dark and possessive as he replies. 

“She’ll understand. You’re taking very good care of me...” He says, his other hand sliding up your leg, feeling your bare skin.

You laugh, sultry to his ears. You then bring your mouth up to his jaw, stopping right at his lips as you hum, “What if I had a boyfriend…and he killed for me…”

His eyes narrow at your words, a dangerous glint flashing in them. He tightens his grip in your hair slightly, pulling your head back and away from his face. 

"You'd let me kill him?"

“…Maybe,” your breath hitches, melting into his hands like putty. 

“Then he’d have to put up a good ass fight.” He replies, his voice challenging. He pulls your head back even more, leaning forward and pressing his lips against your ear. “And I don’t lose.”

You’d never done role play before, not expecting him to play along like he was. Despite him not feeling well, he seemed to be enjoying your game. His tone makes you giggle, pulling your face down as you lock your mouth against his, dirtily making out with him, tongue struck out, messily pressing with his.

He let out a groan as your lips crashed against his, the feeling of your tongue in his mouth made him growl and become more aggressive. He grips the back of your head, holding you in place as he greedily kisses you back.

He breaks the kiss momentarily, panting heavily as he looks down at you. "You're fuckin’ sexy when you're like this," he murmurs, his voice husky.

The moment you go to respond, his hands clasps both of your wrists behind your back, trapping you in a way that makes you pout. You enjoyed the feeling of being in control, but you knew he always needed the upper hand. 

You roll your eyes, “That’s not fair…”

“Cut that fuckin’ attitude before you don’t get anything from me.”

He uses his other hand to tilt your head to the side, giving him access to your neck. Leaning forward, he presses his lips along the side of your throat and begins sucking on the skin.

You gasp softly at his lips along your skin, knowing the skin of your neck was sensitive. You breathily sigh, “S—Suguru…” tugging at your trapped hands, wanting to be freed. 

“You want your hands?”

You nod your head, feeling his other hand now tugging at your hair, sliding down as yanks the material of the dress you wear, spanking the skin of your ass. Your teeth dig into your lips at his aggression, your skin feeling on fire. 

“Say out loud what you want.”

You refuse to give in to him, your voice going silent in defiance. He knew exactly what you were doing.

Hm, okay. 

His eyes were low as he watched you—evil. He leaned you upwards, his free hand gripping the blood red panties you wore, tugging them to the side, hearing the squelch of your opening that’s throbbing for his attention. 

You then feel the heaviness of his dick slap along your ass, fat tip nudging at your folds, making you swallow. You want to protest. But it’s too late— he’s already dropping you down, skin sticking together from your arousal that pulls along his thighs. He’s deep, pinching your insides uncomfortably, overthrown by a rush of devilishly itching pleasure. 

He brought his face closer to yours, lips hovering over his mouth as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, head tilting back as a sharp gasp left your lips, dropping your face back down to his as you whimpered.

“Always so stubborn,” he grunts, your hips fully connected, raising you forward and dropping you down again, dreading the pleasure it brings you. He thrusts himself deeper inside of you, gripping your face as you want to hide the warmth in your cheeks, “Nah. You wanted this," he growls, his voice low and rough.

Another gasp pulls from your lips, wrists tugging beneath his as you whimper in a pleading way, calling for him, “B—Baby…” 

“Nah, what happened to Mr. Getou? I’m baby now?” Suguru says within your ear.

Your chest rises hastily as pleasure raptures through your body, wanting to touch him, wanting to dig your fingers through his hair. You needed it. 

“Don’t wanna hear all that whining shit,” His free hand reaches between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit as he continues to drill you senseless, “Came over here in this little fuckin’ dress. Bounce on my dick like you love it.”

“Sorry, baby…” you whine, his own strength having full control of you, unable to do anything but release moans from your lips, watching the way your body bounces atop of him—all from his one fist holding your hands. 

He lets out a low chuckle as you apologize, enjoying the sound of your moans. He moves his head back, watching the way your body moves up and down in his lap. He could feel his body getting hotter and hotter.

“Yeah, I like the sound of that.” He grunts, his voice thick with lust. He keeps a firm grip on your wrists, watching you squirm against him.

“…Mmm….fuck…”  you curse, your head tilting back, hair moving with you, “W—wait, baby…I…wanna touch you…please…”

"Touch me where?" he asks, his voice dripping with amusement. "I'm fuckin’ deep inside you."

He gives your wrists another squeeze, keeping them pinned behind you. He continues to thrust up into you, feeling your pussy tighten around his dick.

"’Getting tight as fuck, baby. Open up. Need you to relax. Let me fuck you. Beg a little harder, too. You can do better,” He demands, his grip on your wrists tightening even more.

“So mean…” you mewl, “‘Know I like touching you…”

You try to gain control, but he’s stronger. He uses one hand to hold you down, dropping you up and down ruthlessly, his other hand readjusting your legs to where your feet are planted on both sides of his legs, evil again in trapping you like this. 

“You like when I’m mean. Admit that shit.”

It’s like a dam had broken out into a river, your mouth dropping open as no noise released for a moment. You then brokenly moan, gasping deeply as you begin talking to him, “You’re in control baby. Love it when you’re in control….don’t stop….o—oh my….baby…baby…”

He felt a sense of pride, knowing that he was the one who made you like this. He leans his head forward, his lips just barely touching the side of your jaw.

“So fuckin’ needy,” he says lowly, “Begging and squirming on my lap.” He lets out a low growl. “So desperate.” 

He thrusts up into you harder, faster, driving himself deeper inside of you. He can feel your wetness coating his length, the slick sounds of your bodies colliding filling the room.

“Fuck, baby...you're creaming, such a pretty fuckin’ sight,” he groans, his voice thick with desire. He reaches up, grabbing onto your breast roughly, squeezing it in his hands.

“So desperate,” you repeat, “…Need to touch you baby, please. Please. Please.”  

He watches as your eyes roll back, a low growl leaving his lips. He lets go of your wrists completely, moving both of his hands down to grip your hips.

“I’m hot, Nurse, I need you to take care of me.” His fingers dig into your skin, needing you to touch him. “Help me.”

This is all you wanted. You wrap your arms around his neck, digging your fingers into his hair as you lean your jaw into his cheek, positioning yourself to pleasure him. Your lips are directly by his ear as you begin to raise up your hips before dropping them down, your moans becoming infinitely louder the second you do so.

"Ooh, shit. That’s fuckin’ good, baby,” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire as he roughly spanks you, the sound echoing against the apartment. "Taking care of me so well." He grips your hips tighter, guiding your movements on top of him.

"…Fuck...you're so wet..." he grunts, feeling your pussy clench around him again. He thrusts up into you harder, meeting each of your downward motions. He can’t stop talking to you. 

"Oh my fuckin’ god, baby...that feels so good," he groans, his head falling back against the couch.

Your eyes well with pleasurable tears, a soft sob coming from your lips as you bounce on top of him, eyes fluttering back into your head as you messily moan,  “Ohhh…my god. Baby…I…agh….baby….”

He listens to your pleas, his breathing heavy and ragged. He can't help but smile, hearing how desperate you are for him.

"You're so fuckin’ sexy, baby," he groans, gripping your hips tightly. "Ride me good, baby. Make yourself squirt all on my dick. Know how good that feels for you,” He thrusts up into you harder, his tip throbbing inside.

He moves one of his hands, gripping the back of your head and bringing your lips to his mouth. He kisses you hungrily, his other hand gripping your hip tightly as he continues to guide you.

You attempt to kiss him back, your mouth relaxed under his, still open as you moan loudly, tears sprayed against your cheeks as you bounce even harder on top of him, skin creating a loud sound. You feel like you could go into shock at the way your eyes roll, your chest heaving as your nails dig into his back.

 When your hips raise, you feel yourself beginning to squirt, gasping, walls quelling as you drop back down, “T—Talk to me, baby… need to hear your voice. Love your voice. So fucking…” you whine loudly, “Pretty.”  

He feels your tears against his cheek as he kisses you, moans filling his ears and driving him wild. He pulls you up as he runs his fingers against your core, sliding them deep into you as he groans, slamming them in to feel your walls retract, gushing out more as you continue to squirt. Your face is red, unable to breathe properly as he pulls them out to spank you, “Need you to do that shit again. Gonna make you.” 

When he kisses your cries into his mouth, he remembers your plea. He reluctantly pulls his lips from yours, his own breath heavy and ragged. “My voice?” he asks, his hand grip tightening in your hair. “You want me to talk, baby?”

You nod your head, tears falling from your eyes in complete euphoria as you whimper deeply, “Yes, baby…” you hiccup, “Yes. Yeahh. Yes.” 

“You like how I sound, baby?” he says, his voice deep and gruff. “You like how I talk?” He pulls you head back, exposing your neck. “You like how I moan?”

“Love it,” you groan, swirling your hips around to prove your point, “Love it so. Fucking…” you can barely get out your words, gasping through them, “So much, baby…” back to whimpering, more tears falling. 

He can feel himself getting closer, needing you just as much as you needed him.

“I’m gonna need you to take care of me a little more,” he moans in your ear, his lips trailing down to your neck, sucking and biting at the skin. “You know how to take care of me, baby…I need you to.”

Your legs feel like they’re going numb, at this point, you feel like you’re about to black out. The feeling of you slowing down makes him grunt irritatedly. 

Just like that, he switches your position swiftly to where you bend along the sofa, Suguru now behind you. He twists your hair in his fist, slamming back inside making you gasp out. You reach behind yourself to where he snatches your hands behind your back.

His thrusts become erratic, his hips slapping against your ass hard enough to leave red prints on your skin. He tightens his hold on your hair, pulling your head back further to expose your neck.

"I'm close, baby," he growls in your ear, nipping at your lobe. "Gonna fill you up so good."

He grinds his length against your folds, teasing you mercilessly before he thrusts back inside, hitting spots that make you squeal. He fucks you hard, his thrusts rough and unyielding.

“You know just how I like it, don’t you baby?” he leans his head forward, his lip right next to your ear. “You’d do anything to please me, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything, baby,” you groan. 

The groan hums out into a long moan, your back arching beneath him, feeling as his hand clasps your throat from behind to keep you in place.

He’s relentless, taking a moment to lean down as he tells you, “Haven’t ate my pussy, baby. Need that shit.” 

He’s still holding your wrists, leaning down as he locks his mouth around your core, swirling his head in circles, groaning as he dips his tongue in and out of you just to taste how in love you were with him.

His lips pull away from your pussy, a wet pop sounding through the room as he does. He releases your wrists, his hands moving to grip your hips tightly. With a loud growl, he thrusts back inside of you, his dick filling you completely.

"You're mine," he grunts, biting down gently on your shoulder. "Only ever been mine."

He leans himself up to where your body is beneath his, tilting your neck back to where you’re forced to look up at him from behind. His chin lays along your forehead as your mouth is parted open, hips shaking at his rough connection from his hips. 

You tremble, “Oh my god, baby. Oh my god….”

Your sounds are almost animalistic as you grunt, panting as it shrills into a deep cry, entire body shaking, hearing as that makes him arrogantly chuckle. 

He grips at your hair, his mouth hovering over your ear. “You love it when I make you feel this way, baby?”

Your eyes are closed as you sob, talking through each connection of your hips, twisting your neck around and watching his movements as you quiver out, “Yes, baby…don’t stop. Don’t stop, please…please…pleasee.” 

“You want me to keep going, baby?” he groans, “I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“Cumming…cumming….baby…oh…oh…fuckkk.” 

You swallow, gasping as you dig your nails into the sofa. Your entire body falls apart, barely moving as your hips completely halt, trembling as your body explodes in raptures. Your arousal gushes out again—it practically seeps through his thrusts. His hand tightens around your throat as you groan, clutching your eyes shut as you sob out, body shaking as if you’ve been tased.

His thrusts slow down, becoming more sensual rather than rough. He can feel your pussy clench around him, milking him for everything he's worth. Your orgasm triggers his own, he grunts loudly, his cum shooting out in thick spurts as he buries himself deep within you.

You’re both breathing heavily, feeling the intensity of your session. Suguru’s unable to help himself as his palm slams on your ass again, leaving you to only whimper in response, making him chuckle.

“I’m sensitive…” you muffle against the sofa, hiding your warm face as you awkwardly laugh to yourself.

Suguru chuckles darkly, rolling off of you to lay beside you. He reaches over, running a hand through your hair soothingly. "Sorry, baby," he murmurs, kissing your temple. "Didn't mean to hit too hard."

You peak back, “Oh, now you’re all nice to me? Thought you were sick, huh? Lying ass.”

Like clockwork, he’s back to his usual grumpiness. He spanks you again, ducking the swing you give him at that as he says, “Yeah, whatever. Maybe pussy was my medicine. Now come give me that stupid ass mucinex.”

“Fuck you. Do it your damn self.”

“I love you too.”

[kateschi]

princesses explode things too!

synopsis: katsuki is tasked with the bedtime story today, and he shows you and your daughter his own version of a princess story.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: princess bakugou when

the quiet hum of the night settles over your home, and as you lean against the doorframe of your daughter’s bedroom, you can’t help but smile.

inside, katsuki sits on the edge of the bed, arms crossed, glaring down at the open storybook in his lap as if it’s personally insulted him.

"alright, brat," he grumbles, his voice low and rough as he tries to keep it from waking her up. "you wanted a story, so listen up. we’ve got a badass queen, explosions, and—"

your daughter, tucked under the covers with wide, eager eyes, interrupts him, her small voice cutting through the intensity of his storytelling. "papa, I want a princess story!"

bakugou’s brow furrows, his signature scowl deepening. "a princess story? that’s lame. why would you want a princess when you can have a warrior queen blowing things up?"

"princesses can fight too!" she insists, her tiny fists balled up in determination, a spark in her eyes that reminds you of her father.

you stifle a laugh, watching the interaction unfold. katsuki, in all his gruffness, isn’t built for soft, fluffy stories. still, he’s trying.

"fine," he mutters, flipping a page aggressively.

"once upon a time, there was a queen. but she wasn’t some weakling waiting to be saved, got it? she had explosions in her hands, just like me, and she blew up anyone who tried to mess with her."

your daughter giggles, her smile wide as she squirms under the blankets. "she had explosions?!"

"yeah, yeah," katsuki waves her off, but his lips twitch into a small, almost imperceptible smile.

"and she didn’t need any stupid prince to save her either. she took down a dragon by herself—boom!" he claps his hands together for emphasis, making your daughter laugh even harder.

you take the opportunity to step further into the room, catching katsuki’s attention. his eyes soften the moment he sees you, though his grumpy expression remains firmly in place.

"everything going alright in here?" you tease, crossing your arms as you lean against the wall.

he shoots you a look, his tone sarcastic.

"yeah, just perfect. you will be the death of me, kid," he mutters under his breath, but you notice the way he gently brushes a strand of hair from d/n’s face, his touch almost tender despite the rough words.

your daughter beams up at you. "mama, papa’s telling me a princess story! but she’s really strong, and she blows things up!"

you raise an eyebrow, looking between the two of them. "sounds intense. shouldn’t this be a bedtime story?"

katsuki sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. "I’m trying, alright? but she keeps asking for princesses. what am I supposed to do?"

you chuckle softly, moving closer to the bed as katsuki grumbles under his breath. "maybe you should throw in a castle or two. something soft to balance out the explosions?"

katsuki rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, turning back to your daughter, who’s still gazing up at him with adoration.

"fine. the warrior queen had a giant, unbreakable castle. but instead of waiting around inside, she’d climb to the top and jump off it like a badass—"

"katsuki!" you scold, lightly tapping his arm. "that’s not calming."

your daughter, however, is delighted, giggling uncontrollably at the idea. "like a pro-hero! like you, daddy!"

he shoots you a smug grin, clearly proud of himself for entertaining her. "see? she loves it."

with a playful sigh, you sink down on the bed beside them. "alright, let’s compromise. maybe after she jumps off the castle, she finds a... magical garden with flowers and—"

"and traps!" katsuki adds, smirking as he leans into the story again. "where she fights off anyone dumb enough to step foot in it. but she doesn’t get scratched ‘cause she’s too fast."

your daughter is practically bouncing now, excitement filling the room as she claps her hands together. "she sounds so cool!"

"of course she is!" katsuki boasts. he glances over at you, his expression softening a bit. "but after all that, she finally goes to sleep. ‘cause even the strongest queens need to rest, right?"

your daughter yawns as if on cue, her eyelids drooping despite her best efforts to stay awake. "right..." she murmurs, snuggling deeper into the blankets.

you exchange a look with katsuki, both of you smiling as she finally gives in to sleep. katsuki leans down, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before pulling the covers up to her chin.

as you both stand and quietly make your way out of the room, katsuki glances at you with a grin. "told you my version would work."

you hum with a roll of your eyes before asking, "by the way, who is the badass queen?"

he looks at you. "you, obviously," he says, rolling his eyes before smirking. "my very badass wife."

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[bitchlessdino]

mind your business (m)

Pairing: Frenemy!fem!reader x minder reader!chan

Genre: supernatural comedy, smut

Word count: 12.4k

tags: mean!reader, mean!chan, mentions needing to puke or die (both overdramtic af), implied consent (mind reading about desire and wants without audible consent), names (good girl or dirty girl), claustrophilia, stocking ripping, fingering, cunniligus, rough sex, brief spanking, unprotected sex.

Summary: If Chan had to read anyone’s mind, it had to be yours—the one person who seemed to loathe him with every ounce of your being. But before Halloween day, when that wish is suddenly granted, he begins to realize he’s opened a can of worms far bigger than he ever imagined—one that can’t be sealed shut again.

author note: hello, this bitch late but at least she's here thank you for @diamonddaze01 and @haologram for betareading for me i love yall and eveyone else enjoy!

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @kyeomiis @wonwooz1-blog @horanghaezone @stagefrjghts @pantumin @aaniag @mochisdayone @gyuguys

“I don’t know what to be for Halloween.”

“Well, right now what you’re wearing is pretty scary.”

Lee Chan had never met anyone he couldn’t knock down a peg—not that he ever had to try. Everyone adored him, from classmates to coworkers, even Seungkwan, who followed his playful jabs with free lunches instead of a comeback. He was easygoing, always getting along with everyone. That is until you infiltrated his friend group. You weren’t like the others, and for the first time, Chan wasn’t sure if his effortless charm would be enough to dissolve your natural snark.

Chan shot you an unamused smile, his eyes narrowing as you answered his question. The two costumes he held drooped at his sides, a patient frustration written all over his features. “What are you even doing here if you won’t help me?”

You lifted your half-filled glass, the chill of the drink seeping through your fingers. “The free drinks, of course.”

“Of course,” he echoed dryly, his tone laced with sarcasm. “Well, maybe leave the opinions to those who actually care, like Soonyoung here?”

Soonyoung beamed up at Chan, his excitement bubbling over as he playfully tugged at his friend’s hand like an overly enthusiastic toddler. “Aww, always here for you, buddy!”

You couldn’t resist a jab. “Well, if you did something interesting for once in your life, maybe I wouldn’t have to entertain myself.”

Chan groaned, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Never mind. I’m just going to pick something else. Make yourself useful and try to stay quiet, okay?”

You scoffed, getting up from the sofa seat. “Whatever. I’m gonna find something to eat.”

Chan tried his best to stay positive around you, but it was difficult when every social encounter turned into a game of mental chess. But instead of being an actual opponent, you acted like the master, playing with his temperament as if he were merely a pawn. It was exhausting—trying to keep things cordial while knowing you were always pushing his buttons, testing tolerance, and working against him as if your sarcastic replies and eyerolls carried a vindictive purpose.

Chan collapsed onto his bed the moment you left the room, feeling completely defeated. Now, it was just him and Soonyoung left to figure out what he should wear for Halloween, mere days away from now.

“Why is she always like that?” he muttered, focused on the wrong thing,

Soonyoung shrugged, scooting beside you with his legs crossed on the bed. “I’m sure she means well; she just has…her own way of showing it.”

Chan sat up, looking at him in disbelief. “She’s hated me since the moment we met at the New Year’s party, and I still don’t get why.”

“That’s not true.” Soonyoung reassured, gently patting his friend on the head. “Maybe your personalities just clash a bit. She gets along with everyone else in the building.”

“Yeah, but why?” Chan sighed. “What did I even do?”

Soonyoung gave him a reassuring pat. “Chan, it’s not your fault. I’m sure she’ll come around eventually.”

The more people like Soonyoung, or Seokmin, or Jeonghan reassured him that you’d come around, the less Chan believed it. It seemed like there would be nothing that could change your mind about him. Yet he couldn’t just accept that you disliked him for no reason. There had to be something behind the mean exterior, the jabs directed at either his character or even looks. Like he’s some kind of pushover. He would spend entire days wracking his brain, trying to understand why, and nothing would make sense. 

What made it worse was how much it bothered him—maybe because you saw each other almost daily, living in the same neighborhood. You’d grown close to everyone else like you were a permanent fixture here, but when it came to him, it felt like you went out of your way to get under his skin. Your cold glances, your sharp remarks, all seemed to gnaw at him, twisting him up inside like a steel knife in an already gashing wound (okay, maybe he was being dramatic). He just couldn’t stand it.

If he could, he’d look right into your mind, figure out what you were thinking, make sense of your actions, and—just maybe—finally understand why you behave the way you do.

But he didn’t have time to dwell on it; there was a Halloween party to plan. Every year, the local gaming café downstairs—where he’d ironically ended up working at—hosted a Halloween bash with exclusive promotions. And every year, it was followed by a more exclusive all-out rager at his apartment, which he shared with a bunch of his friends above the cafe. It was something nearly everyone on the block looked forward to each year, and this time, Chan was in charge of the activities. The activities coordinator, Seungcheol had proclaimed.

That’s why Chan has been asking for all kinds of opinions lately, even yours. Being the natural people-pleaser he is, he felt as if he’d been running around everywhere to get everyone’s stamp of approval. He would go up and down, left and right, and even hold surveys at the cash register for strangers' opinions. He had a habit of making things perfect, and he wasn’t going to let your cynicism ruin it for him.

“Come on, help me figure out what to wear, bro. My night depends on it.”

Soonyoung had been helpful—thank goodness for that—and now that was one less problem to worry about, Chan felt a bit of relief. If he could just get through his shift at the cafe without losing his mind and manage to sneak in some few minutes of party planning, he would have a good day.

“You figure out what costume makes you look less of a loser, yet? Trick question, it really doesn’t matter what you pick. You’ll still look like a loser.”

Chan tilted his head, unfazed by your rude comments as he poured his tenth cup of ramen for the night—three of them for the same customer. “Why do you care? Don’t you have some puppies to kick?”

Your smile remained unfaltering, conniving as ever. “I cleared my schedule to help Seokmin and Soonyoung rank up. Wonwoo is playing with them this round. Just here to grab some Kickstart.”

“Ah, so another puppy is safe for a day from the wicked Witch of the West. Congratulations on your fleeting moment of decency.” He turned, striding over to the customers waiting for their ramen, while you annoyingly trailed closely behind. You grabbed your favorite blackberry Kickstart from the fridge, the bright can a stark contrast to the dim lighting of the café, and tossed a couple of crumpled bills in the direction of the cash register as if you’d done it before.

“You’re helping plan the Halloween party, right? Seungcheol mentioned it when I asked what I should bring,” you said, your tone almost too casual, as if you were friends.

Chan scoffed, carefully setting the steaming bowls of ramen down in front of the waiting customers before heading back to his station. “You, being courteous? That’s new. What do you want?”

With a sly smile, you leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “I just wanted to let you know that if you really want to make the party fun, you can ask me. My ideas will probably be better than whatever you come up with.” The confidence in your voice made it clear you expected him to take you seriously, but how could he when every little word you managed to muster was belittling?

Chan grit his teeth, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. He unscrewed the cap of a water bottle from the fridge and downed it in one swift gulp, the cool liquid barely offering any relief from his irritation. As he crushed the empty bottle in his hands, he aimed for the trash can but missed, the bottle clattering to the floor with a dull thud. Sounding exasperated, he bent down to pick it up, tossing it into the can with a bit more force than necessary.

Straightening up, he shot you a sharp glare. “I can handle it myself, thanks,” he muttered, his voice tight with annoyance.

“Really? Because I’m offering my help here,” you replied, your tone dripping with an offensive amount of condescending sincerity. “I’m being generous with my time and giving you the chance to create something…well, palatable from this party.” You exaggeratedly pretended to choose your words carefully, a teasing smile playing on your lips, poking at his alleged incompetence.

“You want to help?” Chan challenged, his tone cutting. “How about just enjoying the party instead of making it all about yourself? Some of us actually have work to do.”

He fixed you with a glare that held the slightest hint of malice before finally turning away and returning to his tasks.

“Defensive much?” you shot back, a glimpse of interest on your face as you raised an eyebrow.

“No,” he replied, his voice firm. “Just self-respecting.”

“Fine,” you said, turning back to your friends as you walked away. “Just don’t come begging for my help when your party goes to shit.”

Chan found himself screaming into his pillows that night, the fabric muffling his frustrated cries as he banged his head against them in sheer exasperation.

“What the heck is her deal?” he murmured to himself, his voice muffled and thick with irritation. He buried his face deeper into the pillows, desperate to escape the relentless thoughts fogging in his mind. The familiar scent of cotton and fabric softener offered very little comfort as he replayed the interaction over and over, making him as puzzled as ever.

He hadn’t experienced bullying like this since high school, a time when everyone was preoccupied with either being popular or getting into the best colleges. He was neither; instead, he was a secret third option: just trying to survive.

“Always making fun of me. Always belittling me. Always making me feel like crap.” He pulled the covers over his eyes, seeking refuge from his loud thoughts. “Why can’t she just tell me what I did to make her hate me? I’m not a mind reader.”

Unable to sleep, Chan gazed up at the night sky through his bedroom window, seeing it enveloped in the vast pitch-blackness pressing down like a weight. He took a steadying breath, hoping to clear his mind. Not a single star graced him with its presence—only the lone moon, barely there but still noticeable—how relatable—hanging in the sky like a quiet witness to his restless thoughts.

“I’m going insane here, so if there’s a god out there, could he—or she—make my life easier for the next few days? Just a little?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not asking for superpowers like telepathy or anything. Just…let me pull off a party that everyone actually enjoys. Even her. Maybe then she won’t be so…her all the time.”

It was wishful thinking, but worth a shot, and if Chan was known for anything, it was taking chances—no matter how slim the odds.

Chan was somehow able to sleep that night finally, hair straying all over his face, until he sat up at the realization of a lack of a blaring alarm, “Oh, shit.”

His phone battery had died, and his charger defective and rendered useless. He scrambled to Seungcheol’s room next door, avoiding the obstacles of his shirts strewn across the floor, and plugged the bead phone to his housemate’s charger, impatiently tapping until the phone lit up to greet him.

9:48. Just about 18 minutes before his morning shift starts and almost no time to get ready. “Shit, shit.”

‘What’s that noise?’

Chan glanced over at Seungcheol, who was sprawled out across his bed, a half-conscious casualty of the previous night’s escapades. It seemed he’d had company, judging by the tangled mess of clothes scattered on the floor, and apparently, they'd had more than just a “decent” time.

“Sorry, Cheol. Gotta borrow your charger. I’ll bring it back later.”

Seungcheol’s response was a muffled groan, his arm barely twitching in acknowledgment. Within the incoherent noise, Chan could just make out the unspoken message: ‘Just go away.’

“Got it, see you at work, buddy,” Chan muttered, plugging in his phone with a quick tap to check the time before heading for the door.

Another groan drifted from the bed, thick with irritation. ‘So loud.’

Chan got himself ready in a hurry, forgoing a shower and compensating with an extra-long brush of his teeth and a thick layer of deodorant. Fresh breath and a quick spritz of cologne would have to do for today. The cafe would be filled with people who wouldn’t care anyway.

He rushed downstairs to clock in, throwing on an apron over his lackluster clothes and prepping the makeshift kitchen in the back.

‘Ugh, my back is killing me.’

Chan turned at the faint sound of a familiar voice, spotting Minghao slouched in one of the worn chairs in the employees-only room, head leaned back, eyes half-closed in what looked like exhaustion.

“Hey, Hao. You okay?”

Minghao glanced up, his face breaking into a grin that seemed a bit forced, but reassuring nonetheless. “Morning, Chan. Yeah, I’m good. What’s up?”

“Just checking in—I thought I heard you say something about your back?”

Minghao’s grin faded into a puzzled expression, brow furrowing as if he were rewinding through his own memory. “Hmm? I didn’t say anything. But… Now that you mention it, my back has been sore lately. All the competitions piling up, you know? Guess martial arts are starting to weigh down on this old, elderly body of mine.” He chuckled at his own self-deprecating joke.

Chan gave a sympathetic nod. “Well, if you need a break, just take one, alright? I’m sure Seungcheol or Jeonghan wouldn’t mind.”

Minghao’s smile softened. “Thanks, little buddy. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chan smiled back. “Anytime.”

As Chan turned to leave, he heard a voice, faint but unmistakable, despite the owner of the voice being in the same room: ‘Chan’s a good kid.’ 

He paused mid-step, his eyes widening as he processed the thought, lingering in the air like a distant echo. He looked back at Minghao, eyebrows knit in confusion. “Did…did you just say something?”

Minghao chuckled, giving him a casual wave as if everything were normal. “No? I’ll be out in a sec. How about you go warm up the coffee pot for me, hmm?”

“Got it…” Chan said, hesitating as he walked out, still glancing over his shoulder, his mind racing with questions. Had he really heard that voice? Or was exhaustion playing tricks on him? 

He flipped the cash register on, the familiar hum filling the quiet of the early morning. Chan meticulously counted the bills, making sure he had the right amount of change and neatly stacked cash, each dollar lined up perfectly. Once satisfied, he moved to the glass door, flicking the open sign to life with a soft click. The neon light flickered, casting a bright and loud, welcoming invitation to anyone passing by. Chan took a deep breath, feeling the calm before the inevitable rush.

‘I hope they have the good ramen and not that crappy store brand shit. You can totally tell the difference.’

The voice drifted into Chan’s mind, oddly clear and distinct as if someone were speaking right beside him—except no one was there. The words had a casual, almost lazy tone, echoing in his head like the distant buzz of a radio left on in another room. His gaze darted around the empty shop, his pulse quickening as he scanned the quiet space, lit only by the harsh glow of the neon open sign.

He shook his head, trying to dismiss it, but the words still lingered, as if they were waiting for him to acknowledge them. This voice, like Minghao’s earlier, felt close yet completely detached, belonging to someone…elsewhere.

The chimes on the door jingled, pulling Chan from his thoughts as he glanced up to see a familiar figure. Finally, he could match the voice he’d been hearing to a face.

“Hey, Chan. The usual, please,” Beomgyu greeted, his tone dry, with the same dark circles under his eyes from late-night gaming marathons.

‘Is it me, or does he look shittier than usual?’ The words echoed in Chan’s mind, clear as if spoken aloud, though Beomgyu’s lips never moved. Chan froze, the unexpected comment hitting him square in the chest—both offending and unnerving him.

“Excuse me?” Chan retorted, defensively narrowing his eyes.

Beomgyu blinked, looking slightly taken aback. “Uh… the usual? Kimchi ramen with cheese and a Cherry slush?”

‘Man, hasn’t he worked here for, like, a year? Doesn’t he have this down by now?’

“What? Of course, I do!” Chan shot back, his voice sharp with irritation.

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, now clearly baffled. “Dude, what are you talking about? Just give me my stuff.”

Chan swallowed, feeling a strange tension creeping over him. He forced himself to look down, suddenly unsure whether he was hearing Beomgyu–or actually going insane.

“Right. Sorry. It'll be out in a second,” Chan mumbled, suddenly sheepish as he accepted the cash, his usual confidence thrown off-kilter.

Beomgyu gave him a lingering, puzzled look before shrugging it off and drifting over to his usual seat in the corner. As he walked away, Chan felt an odd prickling sensation in the back of his mind—the familiar voice filtering through, more unsettling this time.

‘Has he gone psycho or something?’

Chan’s heart skipped, his eyes widening slightly as he processed the words that had somehow entered his mind, clear as day, despite Beomgyu’s silent, closed lips. His fingers clenched the counter as he steadied himself, wondering if he was finally cracking under the stress or if something far stranger was at play.

‘Another day, another W!’

Another voice then grew louder, closer, and was growing more anxious, sweat beading down his forehead out of bewilderment. What in the fuck was happening?

Seokmin emerged from the doors, seeing Chan with a bright smile as he leaned up against the counter. “Hi Chan, a couple of sprites and two orders of rose spicy rice cakes please.”

‘I’ma burn through iron into silver today. I just know it!’

Chan’s hands hovered over the register, a sense of déjà vu creeping over him as he felt the words echo in his mind. His fingers shook slightly as he pressed the buttons. “Y-you trying to rank up in Overwatch again today?” he asked, his voice a little unsteady.

Seokmin laughed, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah! Wonwoo and Jeonghan are coming by to play on their day off.”

‘Ooh, I should check if they have that series in stock again. I missed it last time.’

“What series were you looking for again?” Chan asked, trying to keep his tone casual as he glanced up from the register.

Seokmin blinked, a little startled, clearly wondering how Chan had guessed. “Oh yeah, I was gonna ask about it. What was it called again?” ‘Kindergarden wars–’

“Kindergarten Wars, right? The Kindergarten Cop of Manga? That one?” Chan asked, his voice coming out a bit too smooth for his own comfort.

Seokmin’s eyes widened in surprise, a laugh escaping him. “Whoa, I just barely remembered the title! You’re on a roll, buddy. But yeah, that’s the one! Do you have it in stock?”

“Yeah, we should have a few copies in. I’ll grab one for you when your order’s ready,” Chan replied, managing a grin, though stark comparison to the panic festering in his body.

"Aw, you’re the best, Chan. Thanks!” Seokmin flashed a wide grin as he swiped his card, practically bouncing toward his usual corner. He arranged a couple of chairs, setting up a cozy little space for his friends, buzzing around like a busy bee as he prepped the area, clearly itching to dive into his day.

Meanwhile, Chan’s nerves were going through it. He kept glancing at the entrance, anxiety creeping up his spine as he wondered if the next person through the door would, once again, broadcast their every thought straight into his head. Just thinking about it made him want to puke, the effects of the bizarre events not dissipating in the slightest.

The rest of Chan’s day became a relentless cascade of intrusive thoughts, each one amplifying the disquiet simmering inside him. Every new customer brought a fresh wave of private musings, some harmless, others startlingly personal, or worse yet, straight creepy. The sheer volume of it all began to blur together into an overwhelming hum.

‘Fuck not again.’

‘Hell yeah, a new skin!’

‘He’s so annoying I wish he would just die already.’

‘I swear, they said ‘one more game’ like an hour ago.’

‘They’re all trash. Worthless. I’m surrounded by idiots who can’t play for shit.’

‘They won’t last. She’ll cheat on him, or he’ll leave her. It’s inevitable.’

The familiar buzz of the cafe felt unusually oppressive, almost suffocating, as Chan struggled to tune out the voices around him. He found himself straining to differentiate between what was actually spoken and what slipped uninvited into his mind, the line between reality and thought as thin as it was maddening.

"Hey, Hao, I’m gonna take five."

Chan didn’t wait for a reply. He bolted out of the business and up the narrow staircase to his residence, his pulse hammering in his ears. The familiar murmur of echoing voices trailed him, each step feeling heavier than the last, the whispers chasing him even as he tried to leave them behind. It wasn't until he closed the door with a soft but resolute click that they faded, now hushed but still there. Haunting him.

“What the hell is happening to me?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the echo of voices still faintly buzzing in his mind. His hands tightened in his hair, fingers digging in as if grounding himself might silence the flood.

He shut his eyes, breathing in uneven breaths as he clamped his hands over his ears and somehow soothing the thoughts determined to run rampant. But every time he let his guard down, snippets of thought would slip through—fragmented phrases, stray judgments, random anxieties—taking up headspace like ghosts he couldn’t shake. 

‘Why does he get everything? It should be me.’

‘The world would be better off without most of them, if not all.’

‘Where the hell is my ramen?’

‘I hope I didn’t get stood up. I sent her Uber money.’

Nothing about this made sense. It was impossible—just yesterday, his life had been normal, and now he was hearing voices that sounded exactly like his friends’ private thoughts, whether he wanted to or not. This wasn’t some supernatural CW drama, no Halloween special with a secret message all along for the protagonist. This was real life, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d swear he was somehow…reading minds.

The thought sparked a fresh jolt of panic, twisting his insides into knots. It was a fear he hadn’t known lurked within him, clawing its way to the surface and leaving his stomach churning. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to force it away, to dismiss it as some ridiculous, passing delusion. But the voices only grew louder, like an insistent, rising tide that wouldn’t let him brush this off as a mere joke or a temporary glitch in the simulation. No, they clung to him, refusing to fade—unyielding, pressing against his mind as if daring him to question his own sanity.

Then there was a knock. Soft at first, followed by the hesitant creak of the door easing open. Chan barely registered it, too consumed by the relentless flood of thoughts racing through his head, repeating to himself, “You’re not real, you’re not real…”

“Chan?”

His eyes flew open, finally taking in the figure silhouetted in the doorway—you. Your expression was a blend of concern and hesitation as you stepped cautiously into his room. A pang of surprise coursed through him, igniting a spark of defensiveness that flared to life within him, seeing you making the weight on his head worse. He forced himself to hold your gaze, feeling exposed under the weight of your possible scrutiny. “W-what do you want?” he stammered, the words escaping him in apprehension.

You raised an eyebrow, though your usual edge seemed softened. “Minghao asked me to come get you. He’s worried. Looks like he was right—finally lost your mind, or something?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he hissed, barely keeping his voice steady.

You raised an eyebrow. “Chan—”

“Save it.” He cut you off, his tone sharp, eyes narrowing as he took a half-step back, almost as if he expected you to throw something back his way. Just as you always have. “I’m not gonna take whatever crap you’re planning, so if that’s your game, just forget it.”

You blinked, caught off guard, a flash of irritation tightening your expression. “Wow,” you muttered, crossing your arms with a look that was half offense, half amusement. “Who the hell pissed in your cereal?”

“I’m not feeling well, alright? And you don’t make it any easier. If you think I’m going to keep letting you walk all over me, forget it. Go pick on someone else.”

“Wow, look at you finally picking up your backbone from the floor,” you taunted, slowly closing the distance between you. Your voice dripped with mockery as you studied him, taking in the tense lines of his posture and the way his jaw clenched in irritation. “If this is about the party, the offer still stands. I know what I said, but—”

“But nothing. I didn’t need your help then, and I don’t need it now. Just piss off.” His voice cut through the air, sharp and defensive, as if he was trying to shield himself from your probing.

“Ooh, look at you using big words,” you snickered tilting your head as you leaned in slightly, your eyes narrowing in challenge. “Is all the stress of pleasing everyone finally catching up to you? Or are you just realizing you’re not capable of doing something that requires responsibility?”

Chan stepped closer, piercing through you with a sharp glare as your smile broadened, infused with a stubborn determination that only irritated him further. No matter what he said, you remained resolute, and he could sense his resolve beginning to crack under the weight of your taunts, struggling to maintain his composure.

“Or,” he began, feeling the voice in his head finally recede as a surge of courage washed over him. “I have so much of my own shit going on. Ever thought about that? Now, why don't you turn around and mind your goddamn business before  I should teach you how to shut up while I’m at it.” The dominance in his tone surprised even him, and for the first time, he felt like he was finally in control of himself and his newfound ability.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the intensity in his eyes, the way it deepened the timbre of his voice, radiating uncontainable energy you’d never seen from Chan before. The confidence that once danced in your gaze faltered, giving way to a glint of surprise as you struggled to hold onto your composure. Your lips parted slightly, words caught in your throat as you processed his unexpected boldness—and the effect it was having on you.

‘Holy shit.’

Your voice echoed in his mind, sending a thrill through him as his lips stretched from ear to ear menacingly. Finally—finally—he was the one with the upper hand.

“What? Nothing to say now?” he challenged, relishing the moment.

‘Holy shit, he’s so hot when he’s mad.’

Confusion softened his features for a brief moment, and he couldn’t help but let out a, “What?”

“I…I didn’t say anything.”

‘Oh god, am I sweating? Can he smell me? Holy shit, he’s so close to me right now.’

Chan wasn’t sure what he was hearing right now. Especially whatever this was. His mind was already spinning from the obnoxiously loud and relentless voices echoing in his head from earlier—this was something else. The anxiety of your voice in his head, laced with something vulnerable he’s never seen in you before, threw him off-kilter. He felt heat creep into his cheeks as he processed the stray thoughts that weren’t his own, thoughts that broke through the background noise with an unexpected force.

He drew in a breath, barely steady, as he took in every flicker of your expression—the way your lips quivered as if on the edge of saying something, then closed again, and how your gaze dropped just briefly, as if to gather strength, before lifting to meet his, defiant but with a hint of uncertainty in your gaze. That simmering frustration from earlier dissolved, replaced by a charged curiosity that spread through him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, letting his words roll out slowly, teasingly, testing the waters of this sudden change in power.

You glanced up, eyes widening slightly as if caught off guard, your shoulders tensing as though bracing against an invisible force. He could practically feel the hurried, jumbled thoughts in your head racing, flickering across your face—hesitation, curiosity, that rare glint of resolve that never seemed to completely fade. It was almost…endearing.

The moment felt charged, like standing on the brink of something electrifying and forbidden. Chan found himself leaning into it, savoring the way his voice dropped, roughened, responding instinctively to this unguarded version of you.

“What?” he murmured, his smile laced with challenge. “Cat got your tongue?”

You drew in a slow breath, fingers clutching the doorframe behind you as if anchoring yourself, your gaze flickering from his face to his hands and then back again, as though the very air around you had thinned. 

"Just…” Your voice faltered, lingering in the air, yet you held his gaze, a reluctant tension in your eyes, as if resisting an urge falling deep down a pit you’ve already managed to avoid for so long.

“Just what?” he pressed, amusement saturating his tone, relishing in your timid silence.

You hesitated, pressing your lips together before looking away. “Just… get back to work,” you muttered, fingers clenching the door frame for a moment before finally releasing it as you turned to go.

‘That…was crazy.’

Chan watched you leave, barely holding back a grin as a strange, exhilarating sense of control lingered. For the first time, he felt like he had turned the tables. This bizarre predicament suddenly had its perks.

As the thought settled, another realization dawned: maybe these powers—or whatever they were—could be harnessed. And you, of all people, might just be the key. Finally, it seemed you had some use after all.

The rest of the day passed with surprising ease, a sense of control settling over Chan as he slowly came to terms with this new ability. Whatever this was, if it meant you kept your distance and stayed in check, now it was about time you tasted a bit of your own medicine.

Meanwhile, you kept to the far side of the room, throwing him occasional glances that were equal parts wary and curious, as if still processing the shift that had unfolded between you. The quiet in your demeanor was foreign—almost like a subtle retreat—but Chan could still hear every single thought racing through your mind, echoing around him, feeding his ego.

‘Fuck, why is he looking at me like that?’

The echo of your uncertainties only made Chan’s grin widen. Each new thought layered itself over the rest, but somehow, yours always came through with striking clarity, as if your mind was the loudest voice in the room. He wasn’t sure if he was honing in on it by instinct or if his newfound ability had a mind of its own, drawn to you by sheer force of will—or intrigue.

‘It’s like he’s seeing right through me…oh my god, can you see my underwear or something? I’m gonna kill myself.’

You visibly clenched your thighs, turning away from Chan to avoid his gaze but he was the only thing on his mind. You couldn’t even enjoy the game you were playing anymore. 

‘God, he looks really good…makes me wanna take him in the back and tie my hair up–shit, how long is gonna stare at me?’

As each thought drifted by, Chan skillfully sifted through the chaos, honing in on the captivating essence of your unguarded musings. A swell of pride blossomed within him as he recognized that this ability to read minds might not be a curse after all; it was a remarkable gift, one potent enough to give him control over someone as difficult as you

"Leaving so soon, dearest customer?” Chan drawled, leaning against the wall by the exit, his eyes tracking every movement as you gathered your things, your grip tightening around the strap of your backpack.

‘Was he…waiting for me?’

He scoffed, removing his name tag as he did at the end of every shift, a knowing glint in his eyes as he held your gaze, refusing to look away. “You just seem…distant. Thought I’d check in.”

‘He was thinking about me?’ The thought sparked something in you, and you cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “Maybe you should focus on yourself for once, and I don’t mean…” Your gaze flickered downward before snapping back up, warmth spreading up your neck.

‘Not that I’d be entirely against it,’ you thought with a quiet chuckle.

With a step forward, his confidence seemed to fill the space between you, his eyes sweeping over you with a boldness that made you catch your breath. He regarded you with a half-lidded gaze, as though he could see through you, a look that sent a prickle of goosebumps over your skin. “Only you would make my concern for you about my genitals,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “Think about them often, do you?”

You nearly stumbled, his words unraveling your composure as he turned your teasing back on you with a mastery that left you momentarily speechless. “You…”

“Was I on the money? It’s showing on your face.”

You shook your head lightly, brushing past him without a word, pretending the encounter hadn’t rattled you. But as you moved, he followed, a faint smirk lingering as he kept pace just behind you, relishing in the control he held. Chan tuned into the steady stream of thoughts he could almost feel buzzing around your mind—every second of fluster, every trace of hesitation.

With each step, he could sense your resolve slipping, see the barely concealed tension in your hurried stride as you exited the café, almost like you were running but with no clear destination in mind. And he kept watching, unhurried, savoring every moment as he let his presence linger just enough to keep himself quietly literally in the back of your mind, conflicted with the current predicament.

“Where are you going? You never did answer my question,” he called after you, his tone deceptively casual.

You scoffed, refusing to let your stride falter. “You’re being weird today.”

‘Need to stop myself from jumping him with the way he’s looking at me,’ your thoughts betrayed you, louder than you’d like.

He raised an eyebrow, matching your pace with ease. “Speak for yourself. It’s like you can’t help but avoid me. Almost like you’re hiding something.”

With a quick glance over your shoulder, you forced yourself to meet his eyes, though the effort was as shaky as it was bold. “Wow, nosy much? If I didn’t know better, Chan, I’d think you’re obsessed with me or something.” ‘If that’s the case, God smite me right now.’

“Sounds like you’re projecting.” Chan closed the gap between you, stepping so close only a half-arm’s length separated you. His eyes swept over you, catching the subtle quiver you tried to hide. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think your obsession is the reason you can barely look me in the eyes right now. Or maybe you’re undressing me with them. Is that it?”

‘Please, for Christ’s sake, I am two seconds away from tearing the clothes off your back and making you shut up with my mouth,’ the thought flashed hot and unfiltered, betraying you in every glance.

Chan’s grin widened, reveling in the crackling tension radiating from you. "Careful with where your eyes are going," he murmured, voice low and teasing. “You don’t know what I might have to do about it if you don’t.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode off, leaving you rooted in place, your final unguarded thoughts echoing in his head as he went back home.

‘Maybe that's all I want to do now.’

In the days leading up to Halloween, you’d been keeping your distance, and Chan’s telepathic abilities showed no signs of fading. Every day, you kept to the same routine—avoiding his gaze, interacting with your shared friends, and hiding those unspeakably dirty thoughts behind a prissy, composed facade. At first, Chan found it amusing, this secret insight into your mind, but as the days wore on, he became more curious, more intrigued. How much of what you showed the world actually aligned with those hidden, guilty desires?

His gaze drifted to the costume hanging in his closet like an eyesore—a dinosaur suit that, though comical, would probably have him sweating profusely all night. Then there was Soonyoung’s “thirst trap” suggestion, an outfit that showed way more skin, something Chan had immediately rejected and returned but still left in the back of his mind. However, an idea began to take shape, a clever compromise that might just keep your attention exactly where he wanted it. For experimental reasons, of course.

You didn’t come into work that day, likely dodging him on purpose, which only left Chan to navigate the usual mundane thoughts of the café’s patrons—mostly comments about costumes or Halloween plans. Without your thoughts slipping into his mind, the day seemed flat, dull even.

“Hey, Chan.” ‘Hello body-ody-ody.’

Chan caught Jeonghan’s stare as he stood there in a rabbit costume, the moment stretching out just a beat too long. Chan’s confidence wavered just a bit, a warm flush creeping up his neck as he glanced down, lightly fiddling with the arms of his dinosaur onesie, which were tied loosely around his waist. He was half-bare beneath the café lights, with only a simple chain dangling around his neck, and suddenly the whole look felt a little bolder than he’d intended.

He let out a nervous chuckle, his voice softening as he managed, “Uh…am I doing too much?” He could feel his cheeks warm as he looked up again, almost as if he expected Jeonghan to burst out laughing any second. But instead, Jeonghan’s expression softened, a crooked smile forming, clearly more amused than anything.

“...Huh? Oh, sorry, I was looking at your body.”

Chan’s cheeks flushed as he instinctively crossed his arms over his chest. “Bro,” he muttered, clearly flustered.

“Chan, you’re fine. It’s Halloween, dressing like a slut is normal in this time of year.” Jeonghan clapped him on the shoulder.

“Jeonghan…”Chan murmured, half-scolding but feeling even more self-conscious under Jeonghan’s praise.

“In fact, I’m happy you’re finally putting yourself out here. I would think the eye candy I hired would sell himself off a little more,” Jeonghan chuckled to himself, thinking, ‘And man, did I nail that hire.’

Chan blinked, stunned. “You’re joking.”

‘I’m not,’ Jeonghan thought proudly, then said aloud, “I’m not.” Jeonghan’s devilish smile widened as he subtly nodded toward the crowd filling the café. Among the usual patrons were a few fresh faces, particularly a growing group of college-aged girls who seemed unable to keep their eyes off Chan.

Chan’s thoughts drifted back to that morning. He’d been in the stockroom, reorganizing supplies while Minghao ran the front, completely unaware of the number of glances that had slipped through the cracked door, trailing over him as he worked. Now, seeing the lingering stares, he realized his costume had sparked more than just Halloween spirit—it had created quite a stir, evening out it’s usually male dominated atmosphere.

Now he was starting to wonder if he’d been filtering out the roaming thoughts a little too well, considering what he’d missed:

‘What is that costume even…? Actually, I don’t even care. He’s so yummy…’

‘I’m literally drooling. Oh my god, he just looked at me—I’m shaking.’

‘Did guys this hot always work here? Guess I’ll have to come by more often now.’

‘I kind of want to get his number…maybe then he’d let me ride his—’

Chan's eyes widened as the wave of unabashed admiration washed over him. He hadn’t expected this much attention, and a shy grin crept onto his face. “I-I get it now. Um… wow.”

He threw a timid glance toward their corner, and the response was immediate: the girls erupted in muffled squeals, giggling and whispering as if sharing secrets too wild to be spoken aloud. Their eyes gleamed with a mix of awe and infatuation, lingering on him even as they leaned into each other, cheeks flushed, exchanging looks that made Chan feel both flattered and exposed.

“See? You’re a staple here, and you’re doing great,” Jeonghan said with a grin. “Rack up those tips, and when you clock out, fill me in on any last-minute details about the party tonight. Just in case I missed anything.”

“Sure, Jeonghan.”

Now that Chan had come to terms with the fact that his costume was effective for a similar demographic, a swell of confidence bubbled within him that you would react the same. All he needed now was a chance to show it off to the right person. But as he glanced around the café, scanning for you amidst the crowd, a tinge of disappointment set in. Despite the lively atmosphere filled with laughter and chatter of the spooky festivities, you were nowhere to be found, and he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that maybe he was the reason.

As the hour drew nearer, Chan felt a growing sense of frustration. Maybe he had been misreading your thoughts all along, or perhaps his powers were glitching today. The very idea of having such abilities was absurd, yet here he was, confused as to why he couldn’t detect your voice. He needed to make sense of it all. How could you swing from hating him one moment to lusting after him the next, only to ghost him entirely? Each possibility twisted in his mind, leaving him feeling more lost than ever. The anticipation that had once excited him now felt heavy with uncertainty, gnawing at his confidence just as he was getting used to it.

Seungcheol’s voice rang out with a mix of authority and enthusiasm, echoing through the bustling café. His energy was infectious, as he gestured animatedly, urging everyone to transition from the work grind to the festive spirit. With his usual flair, he rallied the team, his eyes sparkling with excitement for whatever chaos awaited them upstairs. The air buzzed with anticipation as he clapped his hands together, urging the staff to shake off the day’s fatigue and dive into the night’s festivities.

Meanwhile, Chan busied himself with the final preparations for the party, glancing at the door every few moments, hoping to see you walk through it finally. He didn’t have much of a plan but he had the spirit of one, bouncing off in the corners of his mind like the vibrant colors of the haunted jungle punch sloshing around in his red Solo cup. The punch was fruity and something strong, but it did little to calm his growing anticipation. 

Despite the cheerful atmosphere around him, he fought to maintain a carefree demeanor, all while tuning out the cacophony of voices in his head. Racy thoughts and flirtations from other partygoers echoed through his mind, but none of it held the same thrill as the prospect of hearing your voice. Each thought was a distraction, a reminder of the palpable heat that he felt on his skin when he heard your thoughts for the first time and how it made his heart clench for a reason other than annoyance.

He could almost visualize the energy you brought with you, the way your laughter lit up the room, and how your teasing remarks made his pulse pick up pace. Chan found himself nursing the drink, hoping the sugar and alcohol would somehow bridge the gap between him and you not being here like he hoped you’d be. The raucous fun around him only intensified his longing, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight wouldn’t be complete without you by his side.

‘Oh, fuck.’

It hit him like the chime of a clock striking the hour, electrifying and undeniable. Your voice echoed in his mind, pulling his attention as if drawn by an invisible force. He turned to see you entering through the doors, your presence instantly commanding the room.

Your gaze locked onto his, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. You were enveloped in a dress of the deepest black, hugging your form from chest to waist before flaring out dramatically and hitting just above your knees. Sheer green tights adorned your legs, glimmering under the soft lights, and a pointed hat crowned your head. You were a vision of the Wicked Witch of the West and Chan could see that never had he thought that vision could be so alluring.

In that moment, everything around him dissolved—the laughter, the music, the chatter of partygoers—as his entire focus narrowed in on you. You were breathtaking, igniting something primal within him that he thought he could shut off. But—

‘I could eat you up, Lee Chan.’

A smile tugged at his lips as he followed after you, sharing the same sentiment as your unspoken hunger. “Took you long enough.”

‘Mmh, so he was waiting for me. Again.’

“Didn’t realize you were waiting for me.” Your chuckle was laced with arrogance. ‘Where the hell is his shirt? And why couldn’t he have given me the pleasure of taking it off?’

“You’ve been avoiding me, which is unusual for you,” Chan remarked sarcastically, watching intently as you poured yourself a drink, bending his arm in a way that not-so-effortlessly flexed his upper arms. “And you didn’t come by the café at all today.” He leaned in slightly, narrowing his gaze. “I thought it might have something to do with me.”

“You?” Your incredulity echoed in your mind. ‘Lee Chan? You were worried about me?’

You stepped closer, invading his space with a confidence that sent a thrill through him. Your gaze traced a deliberate path from his eyes, down the strong line of his jaw, pausing to appreciate the way the light danced across his bare skin. It dipped lower, gliding over the defined contours of his chest, each muscle accentuated by the flickering glow of the party lights. You lingered at his waistband, taking in the way the fabric clung to him seductively.

As your eyes returned to his, there was a spark of mischief in them that didn’t need mind reading to understand, leaving the recipient breathless. The air between you seemed to thrum with unspoken words but clear dialogue, thick with a tension that wrapped around you both. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, drawing him closer to you. The world around you faded into a blur, leaving only the two of you suspended in this charged moment, as if the very atmosphere crackled with anticipation.

“Yeah. Me.” Chan confirmed, his grin widening.

“Well, look who took the time to finally make it.” You both felt a weight on your shoulders as someone drove in between you both, becoming the deli meat in this strange sandwich. 

Soonyoung hugged his cheeks between your faces and grinned, oblivious as always to his surroundings. “Hey, guys.”

‘Good, I stopped the fight before they decked it out in front of everyone.’ 

“Hey, Soonyoung,” you said, wrapping an arm around his waist and forcing a smile. “I see you’re recycling your costume from last year.”

“Uh, it’s not a reuse! This is clearly a brand-new bodysuit, complete with paws!” He lifted his tiger mitts dramatically, waving them in front of your face as if trying to convince you of their novelty. “Very new and totally fierce!”

“Oh, of course, you look good.” You chuckled, genuinely appreciating his energy.

Soonyoung then turned his attention to Chan, eyes wide with excitement. “Whoa, Chan! Look at you, buddy! I told you showing off a little skin would do you good, and wow, look at all this!”

He let out an exaggerated whistle, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Our sexy little dinosaur! You’re making all the other costumes look bad!”

“Okay, okay, thanks, Soon.” Chan let out a hearty laugh, a flush of embarrassment creeping across his cheeks as he playfully patted his friend’s shoulder. He quickly shrugged him off, attempting to create a buffer to ward off Soonyoung’s inevitable groping.

“Oh, so that’s what you’re supposed to be,” You teased, “Couldn’t tell from the lack of clothes.”

Chan snorted, his amusement bubbling to the surface. “I’m clearly showcasing my costume from the waist down—tail included,” he said, gesturing dramatically. “But just remember, even if my costume is down there…” He raised his fingers and motioned to his eyes, an impish glint in his gaze “…my eyes are definitely up here.”

‘What if I want to look at what’s underneath the costume?’

‘What’s going on here...?”

Chan can’t help but grin at the challenge in your eyes while blatantly ignoring the confusion in Soonyoung’s.

“Showing off the merchandise but not letting people browse? You’re not exactly running a lucrative business here, Lee Chan.” 

“Who says I’m running a business?” Chan shot back with a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “I’m simply looking for..exclusive clientele.” His eyes sparkled with mischief, an invitation wrapped in flirtation.

‘I might have to sample a bit of that to see if it’s to my taste, which I’m sure it will be,’ you thought, wishing you could say it out loud. Instead, a soft giggle escaped your lips, though Chan caught the thought loud and clear. A playful grin spread across his face, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he leaned in just a little closer, seeing the playfulness dance in your eyes.

“You guys are speaking weird,” Soonyoung chimed in, his words slightly slurred as the effects of the alcohol began to show. He swayed a little, a goofy grin plastered across his face.

Chan patted his striped friend on the back with a friendly nudge. “Why don’t you check if Jihoon needs help with the music, buddy? You’d be a real asset.” 

“Oh, I would be so good at that!” Soonyoung declared, practically bouncing on his heels before darting off with uncontainable enthusiasm.

Chan turned back to you, arching an eyebrow with a playful glint in his eye, eager to stretch out the moment. “So, did you bring anything special to offer?”

“Just some wine that Minghao practically wrestled away from me when I walked through the front door,” you replied, rolling your eyes with a feigned exasperation. “Have you sorted out those party games you were so excited about?”

“Should be starting in a couple of minutes,” he assured, his gaze flicking around the party setup, but the warmth of his attention remained fixed on you. “In the meantime, feel free to indulge in the snacks or candy. They’re just as sweet as you.”

‘Oh?’

“How thoughtful of you,” you compliment, pleasantly surprised.

“Forgot to mention the warheads, but still considerably sweet.”

The night unfolded like a game of push and pull, with Chan pulling you in more than he ever had before. The playful tension crackled between you, and he could tell that the idea of playing hard to get was on your mind tonight. Even with all the distractions around you, your thoughts were surprisingly coherent—you wanted Chan, and he knew it. Yet you refused to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. That was when he realized that the party games he had planned would serve as the perfect tool to tilt the odds in his favor.

“Alright, everyone, gather around! On behalf of our activities coordinator, Chan, I’ll be hosting the game he selected for us tonight. Why don’t you tell us what it is, Chan?” Seungcheol announced, his tone playful as he gestured for Chan to take the spotlight.

Chan stepped forward, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he cleared his throat. “Tonight, we’ll be playing manhunt—a twist on hide and seek with major stakes. The last person standing will win a grand prize, and the seeker who finds the most players will earn a reward just as significant. There will be three seekers.” He paused for effect, relishing the eager anticipation in the room. “The rules are simple: (1) no running, (2) you must reveal yourself once your name is called, and (3) most importantly, have fun. The prizes will be unveiled after the game ends.”

Vernon raised his hand eagerly. “Is the prize money?”

“Vernon, what did I just say?” Chan replied, suppressing a grin as he earned a solemn nod in response.

“Is there a time limit?” Mingyu chimed in, curiosity sparkling in his eyes.

“Forty minutes.”

Wonwoo started to raise his hand. “What about—”

“Enough questions!” Seungcheol interrupted, chuckling as he saw the anticipation on everyone’s faces. “Chan, pick your seekers.”

Chan rubbed his hands together, a cocky smile spreading across his face as he surveyed the crowd, already knowing who he wanted. “I choose Joshua, Seokmin, and myself. While Seungcheol counts to twenty, the rest of you will scatter and hide.” His grin widened, mischief dancing in his eyes. “And remember, don’t get caught. Losers will face punishment, too,” he added, eliciting a collective groan from the group.

Seungcheol stood in the middle of the room, gesturing for the helpers to shut off all the lights, leaving the entire floor of the building pitch black and ready for the taking. “Starting now. Twenty… nineteen… eighteen…”

The harmonious sound of footsteps retreated from the room, the darkness perfectly concealing any shadows that might betray anyone’s position. Chan needed no light to do what he had to do but turned on his phone camera the moment the counting ended. He met the eyes of his fellow seekers, barely visible in the glow of their phone lights, anticipation clear on their faces. “We’ll cover our own ground until we run out of places to search, then it’s a free-for-all,” Joshua suggested.

“Got it. I’ll head out first,” Chan insisted, earning a collective nod and finding his own path.

He navigated through the stream of thoughts, weaving between them like a radio dial tuning into a specific frequency, determined to hone a singular voice. 

‘Ugh, why did I have to choose this one to hide in? This is such a bad idea.’

Chan smiled recognizing the familiar pitch, beelining straight for the sound, passing the other voices that may interrupt his route.

In a singular room, his in particular, you were the only one loud enough to break through.

‘Oh, shit, someone’s here. Please go away, please go away.’

No matter how carefully you tried to muffle your presence, it radiated from the closet, an open invitation to Chan’s mind-reading senses. He crept closer, footsteps soft as whispers, his hand hovering over the knob. With a slow, deliberate movement, he eased it open, revealing your figure barely concealed behind the racks of his half-filled closet. Your eyes darted to his, and a quiet “Fuck…” slipped out as he stepped inside, claiming the cramped space beside you.

The closet was shadowed in near-darkness, the room's lights off, but a sliver of moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating through the slits of the closet in faint, wispy beams. As your eyes adjusted, you could just make out the silhouette of Chan, his figure close, a playfully smug smile catching the dim light as he settled in front of you.

‘What is he–’

Chan lifted a finger to his lips, signaling for silence before you could utter a protest. His eyes held yours with an intensity that had your pulse racing, each beat a rapid tattoo under the thin skin of your neck. Footsteps echoed faintly from the hallway outside, the other seekers passing by Chan’s room without a second thought, oblivious to the two of you hidden mere inches apart.

‘He’s so close. He smells so good,’ you thought, the hint of his cologne making your breath hitch. Chan couldn’t help the tiny grin tugging at his lips—props to him for choosing the good cologne today.

‘He’s practically pressed against me. Is this what dying and going to heaven feels like?’

Chan stifled a laugh, stepping even closer, until the heat radiating from his skin was undeniable. In a whisper, he teased, “Try not to get caught.”

“But you—” you started, barely finding your voice to remind him that he was in fact one of the people you’re not supposed to get caught from, only to have it die on your lips as his hand pressed lightly on the wall beside you, leaving little room to breathe, let alone escape.

“Shh,” he murmured, eyes glinting as he held you captive against the panel, a hair’s breadth away. 

“Chan…” you murmured, half-breathless, gazing up at him with a mixture of confusion and exhilaration as the closeness left you dizzy, the space between you charged and impossibly small.

His eyes drifted down, seeing your lips pursed slightly in direction, calling to his attention, begging to be claimed.

‘He’s staring again.’ your thighs clenched against each other, hiding the pool of your heat as you could feel it seep through your panties. ‘He looks at me like this any longer I might just fuck him right here.’

Chan shifted closer, his nose grazing yours, so close he could catch the faint sweetness lingering on your breath. "You have to be quiet…real quiet," he whispered, his voice barely more than a murmur.

“W-why?” you stammered, the question coming out in a whisper as his hands found your hips, drawing you against him with a gentle but possessive pull.

He paused, his eyes flicking between yours, a soft smile teasing at the corner of his lips. “Because,” he breathed, his voice sending a delicious warmth down your spine, before he leaned in, closing the miniscule gap and bridging you together in the sweetest of symphonies.

‘Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god–’

His hand clasped against your cheek, hips digging against yours and pinning you to the wall as his tongue traced in the inside of your mouth, exploring you until he could familiarize himself. He felt bound to you, having taste what’s been distant thought now a full blown movie, a movie that he'd rewatch until the day he dies. 

Your hand caressed the back of his neck, tenderly kneading his skin and pushing yourself closer to his body. The hands that ached to touch him found their peace, gliding on his skin and feeling the outline of his body, through every contour and crevice, so hot it’s sweltering, simply melting underneath him.

‘This is so awesome…don’t ever make this stop…’

He held you by your thigh, brought it to his exposed side, and lifted you from the ground, crushing his weight against you to keep you in place. His eagerness poked against your stomach, taunting you with its size, and parting your mind for thoughts of its sensation plunging inside you, wrecking havoc.

‘Oh god, I’m gonna cum thinking about want I’d do when I fuck him.’

Chan softly chuckled, pulling away and looking at the glisten in your eyes, feeling your skin flushed against him, hearing how your mind screamed for him in ache. “Are you—“

“Yes,” you gingerly nodded, not giving him a second to finish his sentence, “Whatever it is. Yes. Or no. Or whatever.”

‘Good god, get a grip. Desperate much?’

Chan’s hand crept under the fabric of your skirt, sliding down beneath the layer of green pantyhose and underwear, your vicious slickness immediately coating his fingers. “I like you a little desperate,” he confessed in staggered whispers before slotting his lips between yours again. 

Your throbbing cunt thrummed beneath his digits, pulsing around him as he pushed on inside, already coating his knuckles. You seized around him, clenching your stomach, as a clear moan escaped you.

‘What was that?’ Chan sensed Seokmin’s thoughts a mere meters away, franticness in his eyes and the voice of his fellow seeker followed after. “Hello?”

“Hey Seok, Just me!” Chan covered for you, fingers thrusting as they curled up inside you. “I hit my foot on something, so I’m taking a minute breather in my room. No one's here!”

“Mmh, okay, Buddy. Be more careful!”

As soon as the coast was clear, his attention averted back to you. “I said be quiet, didn’t I?”

His hand clamped over your mouth and blocking sounds from leaving as he entered another finger, feeling your muffles hummed satisfyingly against his palm. His smile stretched to the corner of his face. “I told you I’d make you shut up wouldn’t I?”

You rocked into the merciless paces of Chan’s fingers, feeling them massage you in and out, as his palm ground itself against your clit. You head knocked back against the wall behind you, joined by Chan at your hip, letting his fingerss fuck you the way you wish his cock finally would. ‘Oh Lee Chan, Lee Chan, Lee Chan…’

You steadied your arms around his shoulders, eyes fluttering in and out of focus, while your hips snapped back him. It was second nature at this point, responding to him with nothing but open arms.

‘His fingers…my god, his fucking fingers…’

“Faster? Deeper?” Chan offered, sweat dampening tendrils hitting at his eyes. 

You nodded, giving no coherent answer as he took away your ability to breathe. ‘Yes, both, please.’

He’d give it to you, watching as tears swelled up in eyes from ecstasy, ramming his digits until he didn’t care who could hear the delicious squelching, the manhunt game so far back in subconscious, it was practically nonexistent. 

‘Needed him so bad, need him to fuck me so stupid I could feel him in my throat…Lee Chan…’

Even without mind reading, the look in your eyes told him everything. Your gaze was intense, charged with an incredible sense of longing, as if it held secrets that could start wars or shatter worlds. There was something almost dangerous in it, introducing him to a hunger he couldn’t ignore. How had he never noticed this before? It practically screamed at him to cross these invisible lines. And for a heartbeat, the world felt as if it teetered on the edge, making him realize his touch unleashed something neither of you could hold back from.

When you contracted around his fingers, there was no better word than heaven, the thick release in his enveloping grasp, collecting at the cup of his hands.

Chan showed a hint of mercy, letting your feet settle back on the ground. You pried your tired eyes open, letting the faint moonlight help you take in the dreamy sight before you as you slowly recovered from the waves of your climax. Chan, clearly intrigued by the quiet of your mind, ran his tongue along the underside of his palm, jolting you back to life as you watched, breath hitching at the sight.

‘Oh my…’

Chan grinned, his tongue dragging against every curve, every wrinkle, following even the drip running down his forearm, his eyes not breaking a beat from you as he ate your cum off his fingers. He pressed against you, sweaty and flushed, ensuring every bit of you laid flat on his tongue, swallowing every sweet drop of that golden nectar, softly moaning about its flavor. “Better than my favorite candy.”

‘Oh, this man needs to get me pregnant.’

“A couple more to go! Watch out!” Joshua shouted from down the hall.

There was a brief moment of trepidation Chan felt, cursing his friend mentally for getting their tasks done so quickly, stunned that you and him were able to keep hidden for so long. Chan knew he had to make a move, and quickly. 

Shoving up the skirt of your dress, he tore the delicate seams of your green stockings, and a gasp escaped your lips before you had the chance to hush yourself. As soon as you were exposed, Chan sank to his knees, wasting no time. He gripped the ruched hem of your dress, gathering the fabric in his hands in rushed anticipation, pushing aside your panties with his teeth and burying his face inside your warm pussy.

‘This little whore, oh my..’

His tongue pushed flat against you, taking you in at long stripes as his eyes bordered on impatience and deliberate, savoring at how you squirmed against him when his pink muscle curled and licked circles at your entrance. You pushed your weight on him, cried at the thought of him eating you alive when any moment you could get caught.

‘He’s going to kill me, he’s going to kill me. Fuck, those pretty eyes looking back at me. He looks so good eating me out. God, fuck.’

He took your free hand, guiding it to the back of his head, gesturing you to hold on, and like magic, the lower half of his face vanished between your wet folds. 

“Oh gah–” You’re the one to shut yourself off this time with the sharp bite of your lip, focused on the passionate exploration of Chan’s tongue–fucking you with intent, and you fought off the urge to scream. He held you up by your thighs, the darkness in his eyes zoning in on you, drunk in thought of witnessing another orgasm, and amplified your senses with the presence of his fingers. You gripped his hair for dear life–further encouraging him to go deeper–worshiping how the soft strands felt against the pads of your fingers as Chan worshipped every inch inside of you.

“Don’t stop,” you managed to whisper, combing through his hair. “Hmm, that’s so nice…god, you’re so hot eating me out like that…”

Chan was starting to confuse your words for thoughts, or maybe was it your thought for words, whatever it was, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to hear them, your delightful praises directed towards him, or see that beautiful face contort with pleasure.

Your hips began to do that familiar jerk, your pelvis hitting his nose as you sensed something explosive near. Your sounds of ache muffled under your hands, and you twisted your hips, gasp breaking out of you helplessly, and Chan got that familiar fresh flavor of you on his tongue as it dripped out of you. 

He helped himself up to pin you back on the wall, the taste of yourself in his mouth, startling addictive, and you reciprocated, getting everything that he’s worked for.

As he pulled away, staring back at you with an unspoken intensity in his eyes. “Let’s get you going.”

Chan led you out of the closet, cum still dripping down your legs,  joining the rest of the group to announce your victory: a month-long coupon for free snacks at the gaming café. The triumphant smile on your face as you timidly crossed your legs, only hinting at the far more thrilling victory you’d just shared in Chan’s closet.

The other seekers playfully elbowed him, teasing him for being a terrible seeker. "I’m shocked you found anyone with how long you took!" they laughed. But the mischievous glint in his eyes was hidden under a veil of innocuous feigned confusion. “Guess, I really suck at this,” he shrugged, “Glad you guys had fun.”

And everyone did have fun—so much so that nearly the whole crowd insisted on another round. A round that you and Chan would find just as—if not even more—entertaining than the first.

As soon as Chan locked the door for the PC Cafe, he reclaimed your lips, feeling for your heat underneath your dress and its familiar throb. “Finally, some privacy.”

As fellow hiders this round, you slipped away to a more secluded spot, somewhere private enough to pick up right where you’d left off. Here, with no one else to interrupt, the two of you could finally delve into that spark that you both have only begun starting to understand, the excitement between you simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to be explored in the quiet privacy you’d carved out.

‘Lee Chan, the man you are.’

He slipped you out of your dress and let it hit the ground, leading you to behind the counter and pressing you against it. You looped your arms around him, tugging his dinosaur onesie off with your foot and kicking it to the ground along with your dress, caressing his cock protected under a layer of his briefs. “Chan, please I want you.”

‘More than you’d ever know.’

“I know,” He chuckled, tearing off the final obstacle of your underwear. And stuffing it in the abandoned skin of his Halloween costume. “And I’ll show just the kind of treatment you get when you ask nicely.”

He flipped you around, tearing your pantyhose higher on your ass, and bent you over in front of him. He slowly, and deliberately, fished out his cock, letting it slap against the curve of your ass, hearing the pleads inside your head.

‘God, he so knows what he’s doing. What a tease.’

His lips connected to the back of your neck, with a free hand squeezed around the flesh of your breast. “Say it.”

“Chan…” you whined. ‘Don’t make me beg.’

“I want to hear how much you want me inside of you. I need some transparency from you.”

“Of course, I want it, Chan.” You back yourself against him, leading the head of his cock towards your puffy slit. “Please.”

“Use your words, dirty girl,” He harshly whispered, invoking a feeling not only rare but foreign inside of you as you clenched around nothing.

“I-I want you inside me, Chan.”

“Doing what?”

You whined, “Fucking me.” ‘Using me.’

He scoffed, brimming with pride, readjusting your position as he saw fit, and slowly pushed himself inside you. When you adjust to his size, you had only begun to realize the impact it’s have on you, how it’s be hard to forget such a sensation, until he’s dragging his cock in and out of you. You clawed on wooden counter, bracing yourself, and echoing a low, long groan as he covered every inch of him in your slick walls. 

The first thrust was methodical, calculated, determined to show you the whole range of what he’d give you and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t intimidated, but as he found his pace, you began to find your balance. “Oh, fuck…”

You were glued to him, his hips pounding himself against you as his hands collected your breasts in his hands, lips kissing up your neck and behind your ear. “Gonna make you fucking wish your only regret was not fucking me sooner.”

How he easily found your spot was mystery – one that you didn’t think too long and hard on – until he just kept doing it, pulling you back against him as he released his inhibitions. Your sweat pilled against each other, unsure where yours started and where his ends, your bodies intertwined into one sickening display of what almost a year of unspoken lust looked like.

‘Oh, I could get used to this. If he fucked me like this everyday, I wouldn’t complain for a single second.’

And Chan was almost counting on that.

He turned you around again, missing your face and admiring how your disheveled hair only framed its intoxicating aura as he lifted you against the counter and pushed his cock inside you as he towered over you.

The single chain around his neck brushed against your face repeatedly, and calling to your attention loud enough for only Chan to hear.

‘Omg his chain…this is like one of those Twitter memes where fanatics dream of their faves’ chain hanging above their face during sex…and it’s actually happening to me with Chan.’

Suddenly, he had an idea. “Bite on it.”

You blinked at him, registering his words as he suddenly stopped his thrusts. “…What?”

“Bite on my chain while I fuck the living shit out of you.” 

You took your time processing the thought, before slowly leaning in, the chain barely meeting your lips before you took it between your teeth and pulled him down with you.

Chan’s once kind smile warped into something more sinister, more primal, and he granted you what he had promised.

His cock slammed against you, reverberating your walls, and you clung on the counter under you, while your vision flickered to the back of your skull. Gritting against the chain on your enamel, your head could not form words clear in any sense, just the echo of yours skin clashing and Chan reveled in that. “Good fucking girl.”

He hand struck your side, squishing you against the counter, feeding you his raw power course through you until he’s fill you up, over and over again. You feed his ego in a way he never expected from someone and wasn’t sure he’d be willing to let it go with whatever happened next, so he was gonna savor the moment he had.

As his arousal coursed through him, squeezed every ounce of energy out of you, ensuring he’d hear his name on your brain and out your lips. He held your tired body, stroking your sides, panting against your skin, and felt the final release ebb out of him like a stream, coating you in perfect white before settling down a stool nearby, sitting you on his lap as you rested against the security of his strong, broad frame.

Wherever this left the two of you, Chan just knew he needed to have you. And considering the emptiness in his head, he needed you for more than he realized.

[raeraesmentality]

Hey. Um.

As much as I would love to believe that Trump could get nailed with election fraud, there are several problems with this evidence.

Just, yknow, keep in mind I'm not anyone well-versed in politics, do your own research, this is just from reading articles over the past few days.

First of all, votes aren't fully counted yet. Looking at numbers right now is guaranteed to be inaccurate. So right now we don't KNOW exactly how many voted for Harris yet let alone if it's 20 million less than Biden in 2020.

Yes, the fake bomb threats were linked to Russia. Russia has tried to interfere with elections before and has interest in Trump being elected. This is in my mind the most valid thing to be suspicious about, Trump has bragged about being buddy buddy with Putin before. Everything else... not so much.

Pennsylvania did receive thousands of last-minute challenges to absentee ballots. That's what the email is about, not some "unidentifiable reason" and it's not proof of cheating. Yes, they were in bad faith and a concentrated effort to disrupt faith in the absentee ballot system, but there's nothing yet to show a connection to Trump. There are plenty of conservative groups distrustful of mail-in and absentee ballots who would have reason to do this without Trump being directly involved.

The mail-in data not being recognized, the simplest and most likely reason is software errors. I can't know for sure what it looked like in Pennsylvania, but I know in my area at least they were dealing with new voter software that they were still learning. If they were also using new software here, and are already stretched thin, it's not really surprising there would be errors like this. Unless something further comes out, there's no reason to believe it's deliberate interference.

The Milwaukee recount is because a machine wasn't sealed properly. Not one official source I can find has mentioned anything about suspicion of fraud.

I know how bad Trump being elected is for so many people, I would love nothing more than for there to be enough evidence of him cheating to stop him from taking office.

But we need to keep facts straight and not fall into misinformation, no matter how much we want it to be true.

Yes it's technically possible, we all know he's not above it, and we're all scared and angry and disappointed. But it is unlikely that most of this could be pinned on Trump, and I have even less confidence that it would even be enough to keep him from the presidency after January 6th didn't.

Still, absolutely call for a recount. This election was so messy that it can't hurt, and even if it isn't enough to turn the election in Harris' favor it could still help in the House and Senate, not to mention smaller local offices that can still do a lot of good in their communities. Just keep the facts straight.

And in the meantime keep focused on what you can do. Organize resources, make sure your vaccines are up to date, renew your ID and passport, get involved in your community, donate to families who need it, share resources with others. Hell, just be nice to your neighbors no matter their political affiliations. (many are pushed right-wing because they feel ostracized by left leaning groups while the right welcomes them.)

Just... Don't lose hope. There are still things we can do to help even in small ways.

I haven’t really seen any of the more recent U.S. election news hitting tumblr yet so here’s some updates (now edited with sources added):

There’s evidence of Trump cheating and interfering with the election.

Possible Russian interference.

Mail-in ballots are not being counted or “recognized” in multiple (notably swing) states.

30+ bomb threats were called in and shut down polling stations on Election Day.

20+ million votes are still unaccounted for, and that’s just to have the same voter turnout as 2020.

There was record voter turnout and new/first-time voter registration this year. We definitely should be well over the turnout in 2020.

U.S. citizens are using this site to demand, not only a recount, but a complete investigation into election fraud and interference for the reasons stated above:

Here is what I submitted as an example:

An investigation for election interference and fraud is required. We desperately need a recount or even a revote. The American people deserve the right to a free and fair election. There has been evidence unveiled of Trump cheating and committing election fraud which is illegal. There is some evidence of possible Russian interference. At least 30+ bomb threats were called in to polling places. Multiple, notably swing states, have ballots unaccounted for and voting machines not registering votes. Ballots and ballot boxes were tampered with and burned. Over 20 million votes that we know of are unaccounted for. With record turnout and new voter registration this year, there should be no possibility that there are less votes than even in the 2020 election.

Sources (working on finding more links but if anyone wants to add info, it’s appreciated):

FBI addressing Russian interference and bomb threats:

Emails released by Rachael Bellis (private account, can’t share original tweet) confirming Trump committing election fraud:

Pennsylvania's Centre County officials say they are working with their ballot scanner vendor to figure out why the county's mail-in ballot data is "not being recognized when uploaded to the elections software:”

Wisconsin recount:

[ID:

Multiple screenshots and images.

The first is a screenshot with a link and information for contacting the White House directly regarding election fraud. The instructions include choosing to leave a comment to President Joe Biden directly and to select election security as the reason.

The screenshot then instructs people to include any or all of the following information in a paragraph as a comment to the president:

32 fake bomb threats were called into Democratic leaning poll places, rendering polling places closed for at least an hour.

A lot of people reporting their ballots were not counted for various reasons.

This all occurred in swing states.

This is too coincidental that these things happen and swing in his favor after months of hinting at foul play.

Directly state that an investigation for tampering, interference, fraud is required, not just a recount.

The second image is from the FBI Twitter account that reads:

The FBI is aware of bomb threats to polling locations in several states, many of which appear to originate from Russian email domains. None of the threats have been determined to be credible thus far. https://t.co/j3YfajVK1m — FBI (@FBI) November 5, 2024

The next four Gmail screenshots of an email sent to Rachael Bellis from Chris T. Spackman that read together as follows:

Dear BELLIS, RACHAEL E., The Dauphin County Board of Elections received a challenge to your absentee ballot you applied for in the November 5, 2024 General Election. The challenge argues that a provision of the Pennsylvania Election Code takes precedence over the federal Uniformed and Overseas Citizens Absentee Voting Act (UOCAVA), which requires states and counties to permit U.S. citizens who move overseas to vote by absentee ballot for federal offices based on their last U.S. residential address.

The full text of the challenge that was filed appears below this email.

You may respond to the challenge in any of the following ways:

1. Call the Bureau of Registration and Election at (717) 780-6360;

2. Email a statement to the Bureau at Election election@dauphincounty.gov. Any statement you submit regarding the period during which you lived in Dauphin County, any family or connections that you still have here, and why you are now residing abroad would be read into the record.

3. Appear in person at a Board of Elections hearing scheduled for Friday, November 8 at a time to be determined in the Commissioners Public Hearing Room, 4th floor of Dauphin County Administration Building, 2 S 20d St, Harrisburg, PA 17111. The meeting is also likely to be livestreamed on Facebook on the Dauphin County channel.

Sincerely,

Christopher T Spackman

TEXT OF CHALLENGE BEGINS

Dear Dauphin County Board of Elections,

I am submitting this challenge to an absentee ballot application pursuant to 25 Pa. Stat.

3146.8(f).

25 Pa. Stat. 3146.8(f) Any person challenging an application for an absentee ballot, an absentee ballot, an application for a mail-in ballot or a mail-in ballot for any of the reasons provided in this act shall deposit the sum of ten dollars ($10.00) in cash with the county board, which sum shall only be refunded if the challenge is sustained or if the challenge is withdrawn within five (5) days after the primary or election. If the challenge is dismissed by any lawful order then the deposit shall be forfeited. The county board shall deposit all deposit money in the general fund of the…

The rest of the forwarded email is cut off.

The last image is a screenshot of the official statement from the Centre County, Pennsylvania Board of Commissioners released on November 6, 2024 that states:

Centre County Working with Ballot Scanner Vendor to Export Election Results.

(Bellefonte, PA) -Centre County Elections Office is working continuously to provide mail-in ballot data in order to post unofficial results.

To this point, all ballots have been scanned, including all mail-in ballots.

Centre County's Election team and IT team have identified that the data are successfully being exported from the mail-in ballot scanners, but that the data is not being recognized when uploaded to the elections software.

Centre County's Administrator, John Franek, Jr. stated, "We have not stopped working, and we will continue to work until unofficial results are posted and reported to the Pennsylvania Department of State."

As a next step, Centre County has begun working with the equipment vendor to adjust configurations to make the two systems-the mail-in ballot scanner and the elections software where data are uploaded -compatible with one another.

We will provide updates as we make progress.

/end ID]

[chrissv4mp]

Hiii so I thought of something that could maybe be good and thought I’d send a request for it. I was thinking something about what happens after the chicken shop date and how Amelia goes on her other date after and Billie is super jealous but the date sucks so she ends up texting Billie the whole time and Billie is still mad but Amelia begs her for another chance and talks her into meeting up after because she realizes she should have just stuck with Billie instead of going on another date and then they hook up. You could make it the reader instead of Amelia if you want I just love the storyline and how flirty and hot Billie was in that interview. For the sex I’d like dom Billie/strap/choking/orgasm denial/squirting if possible but just do your thing hahaha thank youuuh😘

𝜗𝜚 SHE CAN'T COMPARE

WARNINGS: SMUT, sorta angst(?), strap-on sex, choking, orgasm denial, degradation, squirting, dom/sub dynamics, meandom!billie, brattysub!reader.

NOTES: okay woah guys i actually finished this quite fast..

WORDS: 6.2k

SUMMARY: During your "date" with Billie, you accidently let it slip that you have another date after this. However, you can't get the argument out of your head, leading you right back to Billie.

TAGS: @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livialifesblog @devynscomet @her-favorite @cannibalsclass @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @meliciousmel13 @zayluvss @hrtsdollie

BILLIE EILISH × F!READER

"I'm actually going on a date after this." You blurt with a smile on your face as you take a sip of your drink. When you see Billie's face drop, you almost choke on the liquid, "Sorry."

Billie just crosses her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair as she stares at you with those intimidating eyes of hers, "What the hell?" She chuckles, glancing at the camera. She didn't look irritated, but you knew damn well that she was.

With all the playful flirting behind the scenes and the soft, quick touches, it wasn't hard to miss that she had at least some interest in you. And it wasn't weird because you've been friends for quite some time before you finally had the courage to ask her to be on the show.

For a few moments, all that consumed the room was silence. Tense silence, to be exact. Billie's gaze spoke to you like nobody's ever did, and somehow, you knew exactly how she was feeling. You bite your lip nervously, eyes moving away from hers as it becomes too much.

"That—it—I didn't mean to say that." You stutter awkwardly, a coy smile on your face for the camera. The whole crew was still here, and you really hoped they didn't notice what was going on between the two of you, "Just a thought I didn't mean to blurt out."

Billie nods her head, "Well, you sure did." She scoffs, sounding more as a laugh to distract the camera crew and the people who would see this when it came out. She tilted her head as you took another sip of your drink to wash away the dryness of your throat.

"Right—shit—Sorry?" You mutter in an apologetic tone, leaning back in your chair to make a little more distance between your bodies. The table didn't even seem to create distance at this point. Her eyes were trained on yours, but yours were nervously tracing the pattern on the tablecloth.

Billie rolls her eyes playfully at your response, fixing her posture and sitting up straight, "So—You're goin' on an actual date after this?" She asks, both literally and just for the cameras. More literally, but nobody has to know.

"No—Billie, it's—This is a real date." You smile, trying to lighten the mood as you giggle softly at her jealousy. She was intimidating, but God, was she childish when she got like this, "I meant like a friend... date. With my girlfriends." You mutter, watching as an amused smile comes to Billie's face.

"Oh, so now you have girlfriends?" She scoffs, tone playful, shaking her head softly as she licks her lips. She adjusts her hat, muttering something too quiet for the microphone to pick up as she reaches for a fry.

You just stay silent, thinking of anything you could say that would change the topic. She was only teasing you now, clearly, "I'm actually just going home right after this. Maybe with you, even." You smile, watching as Billie raises an eyebrow at your harmless flirting.

"But you don't wanna stand up the lucky girl, do ya?" Billie questions, seemingly a joke to the camera, but hitting you very hard in reality. She shifts in her seat again, eyes dragging along your body and silently praying that it wouldn't be caught on camera.

You shake your head as you hopelessly stutter your reply, "I—no—there's no date after this. It was a joke." You play it off terribly, mentally cursing yourself for even blurting the stupid words in the first place, "Y'know, you're really hitting me hard and soft with these replies."

Billie's lips part at your word play on her new album, nodding her head as she chuckles, "Well, maybe next time, don't bring up your other date." She teases. When you glance into her eyes, you can tell exactly what she's thinking. And it's anything but sweet.

"Billie, there's no—I don't have a date, forget I even said that!" You shush, rolling your eyes at her as you take the last sip of your drink. Billie just shrugs nonchalantly, hiding her true emotions as she bites her lip, "Okay."

The camera equipment is slowly getting put away and hauled into the back of some moving van. But, you and Billie are still sitting at the same table you were in the interview. It was getting dark, and you did, in fact, have a real date that you had to be at soon.

Billie stays quiet, finishing up her food and stealing glances at you every now and then. Her thoughts are all over the place, jealousy pumping through her veins as the hand in her lap grips her jeans roughly. Her eyes snap up to yours right when you decide to finally look at her.

"What's her name?" Billie mutters, face even more stern than before when you were both being recorded. Now, she could finally express herself with words that didn't sound light-hearted, "Your date, I mean." She states, taking the last fry into her mouth and waiting for your reply.

You stay silent, almost dumbfounded, that she was still stuck on that topic. It'd been almost an hour and a half since you had that conversation, and yet it was still lingering in the air. A forced chuckle emits from your throat as you sit up straight, "Ms. None-of-your-concern."

Billie perks up at your response, cocking an eyebrow at your words. She'd never seen this side of you, and you really should've known that right now was not the time nor place for you to show her it, "Don't gimme that shit right now. You're acting like a child."

"Yeah, well, were you not acting the same while the cameras were rolling?" You retort, furrowing your eyebrows as the smile on your face slowly fades. She just scoffs in response, rolling her eyes she breathes out some stupid argument.

Your leg bounces beneath the table, mind racing as you check the time. You only had about an hour before your real date, and God, did you want to get away from Billie sooner. You can still feel her eyes burning holes through you, but you pay her no mind, huffing quietly in exasperation.

Billie notices the way you check your phone every few minutes, and it only annoys her further each time she catches you, "Better hurry up. Bet she wants to take you home later tonight, maybe even fuck—"

"Fuck you." You scoff, moving back in the chair as the screeching noise reverberates around the small, empty restaurant. You swiftly grab your jacket before storming out, leaving Billie alone in her seat, fuming.

"But your date's already gonna do that!" She calls angrily, hands clenched into fists as she watches the door slam behind you loudly. Her eyes stay on the glass for a moment longer, almost waiting for you to come back. But, you never do, so she just sits in silence.

Her head lolls back as she closes her eyes, sucking in a deep breath before she huffs out in frustration. Sure, maybe she was in the wrong, but who's to say you weren't as well? You knew how jealous she got. Each time she had a crush, she'd always run to you to complain about their ex's, never hiding her jealousy. And she was sure you didn't forget, you just knew how to push her buttons.

Quiet footsteps caught her attention, head turning in the direction of the kitchen, only to find the owner of the small restaurant approaching her, "We're closing soon, ma'am." He says, the tiredness clear in his tone and eyes. Billie just nods, humming quietly as she grabs her stuff and throws it away on her way out.

The lights hanging above you dimly lit the table and the girl across the table from you, highlighting her ocean blue eyes, quite like Billie's mesmerizing ones—No.

You shift in your seat as you listen to her, nodding at almost each word she says in an effort to seem like you were really listening. But, in reality, all you could hear was the chatter of other people seated around you. All you could even think about was what happened earlier that evening, at the restaurant with Billie.

Maybe that was the one thing that was distracting you, the one thing that made you think this date was going horribly. The girl wasn't even boring or an asshole. She was sweet and genuinely interesting. You just didn't know what was wrong with yourself.

You smile softly as you notice she's stopped talking, toying with the food on your plate, your fork twirling the pasta around it but not exactly bringing it to your lips to eat it. You'd lost your appetite, and you knew it wasn't from the food you ate a few hours prior to this.

"You okay?" She asks, and that's the one thing that pulls you out of your thoughts, eyes snapping to hers. They were swelling with concern, and so was her facial expression. God, you were really blowing it. Maybe you were the asshole.

The fork leaves your hand, clattering against the plate softly as you nod in response, "Yeah, I'm sorry. I just—Need to use the restroom real quick." You mutter, an apologetic look in your eyes as you stare into hers. You knew yourself that you wouldn't come back, so you didn't even bother promising it, instead just smiling at her before quickly rushing to the restrooms.

When you're out of her sight, you grab your phone from your bag, unlocking it as you open the door to the women's bathroom, making your way down to the furthest stall from the door and locking yourself in.

You click the first pinned contact, not even needing to look at who it is before you begin typing, leaning against the tiles of the bathroom wall.

y/n: hey

You bite your lip as you patiently wait for her response, muttering something along the lines of, "Please don't be mad at me, please don't be mad at me, please—."

When the three little dots show up, you let out a breath you hadn't even known you were holding, gripping your phone tighter as your eyes dart all around the screen.

billie: thought u were at ur date?

y/n: bored

y/n: cant stop thinking about our fight

y/n: you keep distracting me. idiot

You can almost feel her own emotions through the device. That sexy chuckle of hers imprinted in your mind. She gives your last text a thumbs down, and then the three little dots begin to bounce again.

billie: good to know im still on your mind tho

billie: also thats not even my fault??? js stop thinking of me then youll be okay 🤷‍♀️

y/n: kinda hard when you teased me the entire fucking interview

y/n: even off camera dude like wtf

Billie shifts on her couch, your words making her heart swell with pride. Even if you did piss her off, she was still happy she was on your mind. But, really, when wasn't she floating around somewhere in there?

billie: sorry for being me, damn

billie: also wtf why are you skipping over that shit that you did at the restaurant?

billie: like ok tell me you have another date after i was clearly flirting with you fr the entire interview

Her lip was tucked between her teeth harshly, biting down almost hard enough to draw blood as she watched the dots begin to bounce in the small grey bubble again.

When you finally sent the text, her facial expression softened.

y/n: im really sorry billie. i didnt know it would hurt you, it wasnt my intention

billie: huh

billie: well it sure as hell seemed like it was

You sigh quietly as your eyes scan over her texts over and over again. Fuck, why did she have to be stubborn?

Your thumbs quickly begin to work on the screen, typing out an almost pathetic apology. No—It wasn't even an apology—It was more of a stupid text begging her to forgive you.

y/n: im really sorry bills

y/n: i dont want us to fight. please

y/n: i didnt even want to come here after it

y/n: you know i hate when ur mad at me

y/n: ill apologize to u a million times more if thats what u want

Her heart beats faster, and she swears it might pop out of her chest any moment now. Her thumbs quickly type out a response, a stupid smile coming onto her face.

billie: dont

y/n: well can you at least pick me up cus u were being an asshole too

y/n: pls can you pick me up i really dont wanna see the look on the poor girls face when she finds me in this bathroom stall texting u

billie: idk i might js make you wait 30 mins so she can find u in there

Your eyes roll at her texts, scoffing at her responses. She was so difficult, and you hated her for it.

billie: hurry to the front im omw dummy

A smile quickly comes onto your face as you read the last text, almost squealing until you remember that she wouldn't be easy when you got in the car. Fuck, this was gonna be a long night.

The car pulls up slowly in the front of the restaurant, and you glance back one final time at the windows before scurrying off the sidewalk and jumping into the passenger seat of Billie's car.

She doesn't even wait for you to put your seatbelt on, quickly driving forward to exit the parking lot of the place. Her eyes trace your side profile as she waits for cars to pass, her gaze going unnoticed as you buckle your seatbelt.

"Have fun?" She mutters quietly, jealousy bubbling underneath her skin and seeping through in her tone as her eyes avert back to the road. You turn your head at her words, sighing in annoyance. She was still going on about it.

Your cross your arms over your chest as you look out of the windshield at the cars passing by, feeling her car jolt forward as she gets onto the main road, "If I did, I wouldn't have texted you, idiot."

Billie scoffs at your name-calling, rolling her eyes as she presses on the breaks at a red light. She takes the chance to look at you again, eyes traveling lower this time and catching onto your change of clothes.

You were wearing a short black dress, the neck cutting low and exposing some of your cleavage. She would've pounced on you right then and there if it wasn't for the traffic behind her. And also if she wasn't still so fucking furious at you.

Her own choice of clothing was the complete opposite of whatever slutty piece of cloth you were wearing, her sweatpants hanging low on her waist and exposing the waistband of her 'HIT ME HARD AND SOFT' boxers.

When the light turned green, it was your turn to admire stare. On her top half, she was wearing a little white tank, the straps thin and almost slipping off her shoulders each time she moved her arms to turn the wheel.

Her nipples were poking through the thin tank, and it felt almost impossible to look away. Until she spoke and you got too nervous to keep staring, "Well, I still wanna know how it went."

Liar. She was only talking about it so that you wouldn't forget the deep shit you were in when you got to your house. Or maybe her house? You didn't know, and you honestly didn't want to. You wouldn't bother asking, either, not wanting to hear the whole, 'why did you change the topic?' rant.

"It was good, actually." You murmur, an idea sparking in your head as you glance at her face again. You can practically see the way her eyes twitches in annoyance, and it only spurs you on to say your next words, "She was so sweet, and she cared a lot. I could tell just by her pretty eyes."

Billie has to stop herself from slamming on the breaks in the middle of the road, instead deciding to breathe in deeply and bite her lip. Her grip on the steering wheel increases in tightness, tilting her head to the side like she always did when she was infuriated.

"Yeah?" She seethes, cocking an eyebrow as she takes another quick glance at you. She catches a glimpse of that stupid smile on your face, and it only makes her angrier. You hum in response.

"Yeah." You reply, giggling quietly as you watch her knuckles turn white from the grip she has on the wheel. She presses down on the gas harder, and the car only accelerates faster down the route to her house, "Flirted with me the entire time, asked me if I needed anything. She even pulled out my chair for me."

Billie nods almost robotically, like she's being forced to listen to you brag about the girl. Because she is. She can't just jump out of the car into the road, even if she really did want to in that moment.

"That's—Yeah, that's nice." She mutters, jaw clenched. Even if you had only said a few sentences about no-name-girl, she was tired of it already. She only started the conversation to maybe undermine you? She didn't even know anymore, all she knew was that she was going to die if you kept talking about this girl.

"And—" Billie couldn't turn onto the street to her house fast enough, speeding down the road as she tried to drown you out. Her eyes burned holes through you, specifically your chest. She didn't understand why you chose to wear that revealing dress for that stupid girl and not for her.

She pulled into the driveway quickly, turning her key and pulling it out after putting the car in park. Her hands rested in her lap as she threw her head back against the headrest, eyes shutting softly as she breathed out.

"Stay there." She whispered, getting out of the car and slamming it with a loud thud. Your eyes followed her as she rounded the car, gaze coming down to see her sweatpants falling down only a little further.

She opened your own door before you could. It made her crazy when you even tried to open it by yourself, so even if she was pissed, she'd never forget to open it for you. When you exited her car, she slammed your door and locked the car, following behind you to the front door.

You type in her code proudly, reaching for the door handle but quickly being swatted away by her own ring-clad hand. You laugh at her gestures, watching as she opens the door for you and lets you go in first.

She's silent the whole time. Even as she closes and locks the door behind her, no words slip from between her lips, only gentle breaths as she rubs her temples. Her eyes basically undress you as you walk down the hall and throw your bag onto her couch, heart beating faster and faster as the seconds pass by.

Her vision is blurred as she follows after your footsteps, time seeming to slow as she looks around at the pictures hanging on the walls. When she finally makes it into the living room, you're sitting down on the couch, legs spread like you owned the place.

And, honestly, it seemed like it after being here 24/7. You even convinced Billie into giving you a key with no hesitation on her part. She grips onto the wall harshly, holding herself up as her eyes take in all that was you. Your scent already fills the room, making her head spin and blurring her vision further.

Her other hand rests inside of her pants, the action normal because of how abnormally cold she always was. But, this time, you see her hand moving beneath the fabric in a repeated motion. Like she's stroking something.

Your lips curve into a smirk at the sides, sitting up taller as you realize. She only comes closer, now leaning against the far end of the couch across from you.

"Thought you were mad." You hum, tilting your head in imitation. You cross your legs, hands running along your thighs through the fabric and making your dress ride up. Billie groans quietly, gaze fixed sternly on you.

A few more steps, and now her hand is holding herself up on the couch cushion you were sitting on. Her lips almost touch your earlobe, breathing on your neck as her small smirk fades. She scoffs, her other hand slowly creeping onto your thigh and squeezing, "I'm fucking furious."

You smile at her words, gasping softly as she squeezes your thigh tighter. She leans back, lips level to yours as her eyes flit down to them, then back up to your beautiful eyes. You're the first one to close the gap, grabbing her face and practically pulling her onto your lap, your lips fitting onto hers so perfectly.

Her hands moved to your hips, quickly flipping your positions so that you were on top of her. As you sat on her lap, you could feel the bulge beneath her sweatpants poking at your thigh, causing an amused smile to creep onto your face, "Predicted this, huh?"

"Shut up." She grumbles, ring-clad fingers wrapping around your neck and smashing your lips onto hers. Your hips slowly grind on her sweatpants, moaning quietly against her mouth as your hands grip at her shoulders, nails digging into her skin.

Billie groans at the subtle pain, pushing her hips up when she feels you begin to rock back and forth on her lap. Her free hand moves down to undo the tie of her sweatpants, finding it difficult with only one hand and her eyes closed, "Ma, take 'em off f'me, would you?"

You don't hesitate, the need to tease her thrown out of the window. For now, at least. Your hands leave her shoulders quickly, pulling away from her lips with hesitancy as you look down to see what you're doing. Billie's eyes are on you the whole time, biting her lip as she feels you tug down her sweatpants and let them pool at her ankles.

Billie bucks her hips against you, and this time, it's like you can feel everything. Your lips part in surprise at her sudden movement, a quiet squeak emitting from your throat at how big her dick feels.

"Gonna sit and stare, or are you gonna take it off?" Billie sighs, her patience wearing thinner than before. It didn't help that you were still fully clothed, either. Her hands leave your neck and hip, moving behind and messing with the zipper of the skimpy black dress that adorns your beautiful body, pulling it down until you could easily slip out of it.

You crawl off her lap, eyes hooded and full of desire as you slowly strip for her. Her hands grip the couch cushions tightly, holding herself back from even saying anything that would elicit a snarky response from your part.

The dress falls to the floor, revealing your naked figure to her. She wanted so bad to call you a slut for not wearing any undergarments, to degrade you until you broke beneath her and finally gave in. But she stayed silent, instead taking in your mind-consuming presence.

When you came closer and dropped to your knees in front of her, she bit her lip. Her hands and thighs trembled as you rested your cheek on the inner part of her thigh, leaving a wet kiss on the bulge in her boxers before you grabbed the waistband of the constricting fabric with your teeth. Her breaths were short and ragged, eyes wide as she watched the silicone cock spring free.

Once her boxers were at her ankles, your eyes found hers again, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you came closer. Your lips hovered over the tip of her dick, spitting on it before your hand came up to stroke it softly, thumb rubbing at the tip as if she could actually feel it.

"Get up." She breathed, eyes locked on yours as you continued to stroke your hand up and down her dick, listening carefully to each quiet sound that she made, whether it be a whimper or a real moan, "Y/N, fuckin' listen." It was a clear warning, the way her tone changed just an octave lower, a very prominent warning that she wasn't gonna be easy if you disobeyed her again.

But, still, you stayed on your knees in front of her, your hand rubbing the silicone quicker. And, as much as she liked the way you looked on your knees, her hand quickly came down to grab a handful of your hair, tugging at it harshly in yet another warning.

This time, you listened, nodding softly as your hand left her cock, rising to your feet in front of her. Her hand left your hair as you moved up, standing up and stepping out of her sweatpants and boxers, kicking off her shoes and leaving her in only socks and that thin tank top barely covering anything.

"Want you on the bed, Y/N." She demands softly, eyes hooded and irises swirling with lust and anger. You nod, biting your lip as your eyes fall lower on her body, chuckling quietly as you see the fake dick standing tall between her thighs, "And don't make me fucking tell you again." She snarls.

You nod again once her words register in your head, your feet taking you down the hallway and into her room at the end of it. You shut the door behind you softly, scurrying onto the bed and seating yourself in the middle of it, back against the headboard and legs spread just for when she came back.

The time seems to pass way slower as you shift on her dark sheets, your lower back leaning against the pillows that she slept on each night. The room smelled heavily of Billie, her perfume filling all your senses and going straight to your core. This wasn't where you expected to end up tonight at all, but you weren't against it.

The creaking sound of the door is what catches your attention, finding yourself sitting up taller and gripping at the sheets. Billie pushes the door open slowly, hair up in a low ponytail, her tank top gone and revealing her tits.

You're unable to suppress a whine as she comes closer, locking the door behind her and only making you squeeze your thighs together, bucking your hips against nothing but the cool air in the room.

She moves so quickly that it should've been considered inhumane, her hands touching you everywhere all at once. Her hair tickles your shoulder as she tilts her head, lips pressing against your neck so softly as her hands grip at your tits so roughly. Her knee is slotted between your thighs, pressed harshly against your wet pussy and feeling every movement you make.

"She wouldn't kiss you like this," Billie whispers, biting at the sensitive spot just behind your ear, feeling as your body tenses beneath her, throat dry, and lips agape to let out all the pretty noises she was the cause of, "Only me." She finishes her sentence, moving to another part of your neck to scatter kisses and marks anywhere she possibly could.

Her thumbs circle your nipples, nails leaving soft indentations as she tries her hardest not to go absolutely insane on you. Just the thought of that girl fired her up, urging her to just ruin you first and then take it slow. But the bratty attitude you had all day only encouraged her to tease you, break you slowly, and then fuck you hard and rough until you were unable to say anything but her name, "I'm right?" She breathes, kissing your collarbone as she descends your body.

Her teeth nibble at the skin just above your tits, leaving hickeys in the shape of a heart slowly but surely. All you can do is nod in response, body reacting so eagerly to her teasing touches and kisses. She was driving you insane, but if you said anything, she'd only take it slower. It was torture.

"Answer me." Billie demands, biting down particularly hard just above your nipple, smirking against your skin as she hears you yelp softly. It's almost like she can feel your heartbeat on her lips, her head spinning with every idea of what she wanted to do with you tonight, "You were very keen to the idea of fuckin' smart-mouthing me during that interview. In front of people, too?"

"God, you just can't stand being good for more than 5 minutes, can you?" She scoffs softly, voice teasing and playful, but her words were real. She meant everything, and you knew that very well. Her lips wrapped around your nipple when she felt your fingers in her hair, tangling in the dark strands and pulling weakly. You whined at her degrading words, her knee hitting your clit perfectly as you rocked your hips sloppily.

"Bills—Only you, j-jus' you," you confirm, your voice merely a mewl in her ears, but to you, it was using all of the strength you currently had, trembling beneath Billie even though she's barely even touched you yet, "Please..." You beg, eyes fluttering shut as you find the perfect spot on her knee to grind on, hips moving faster.

Billie moves to your other nipple, sucking harshly and nibbling at the erect bud as her hands caress your thighs, nails scratching up and down your skin and making your thighs tremble just that little bit more. She releases your nipple from between her lips with a pop, now hovering over your face, removing her knee from between your legs, guessing knowing that you were close, "Please, what?"

"F-fuck me, Billie—Please—Jus'.. mm." You stumble over your words, mind scattered and unable to say anything to form a real sentence. Billie understands, though, a cocky smirk on her face as she moves her hand to one side of your body, holding herself up as her other hand pulls your thighs apart, lining her cock up with your entrance before she pushes it all in at once.

Your quiet cries are music to her ears, your trembling body cute and meek. Her hand leaves the silicone dick, traveling up your body and leaving a trail of fire up to your neck where she wraps her fingers around your throat, applying more pressure than you thought she would. You gasp quietly, the action only making the whole situation hotter and more intimate. She tilts her head, "You like that, don't you?"

You nod the best you can, whimpering softly as she slowly thrusts her hips, eyes examining your every movement from the way your chest rose and fell with the ragged breaths you took to the way your eyes fluttered each time her dick rubbed you in just the right way. Pathetic pleas for her to go faster slip from your lips, toes curling at her torturously slow pace, hands fisting at the sheets messily.

"Pleasepleaseplease—faster.." Billie's grip on your throat tightens at your words, eyebrows furrowing as she watches your eyes roll back, "Want me deeper, yeah?" She mocks, the fire in her lower abdomen growing as she sees you nod frantically, her hips already slamming into you almost twice as fast than she was fucking you before.

She leans closer to your neck, inhaling your scent and smelling her own perfume on your skin. A chuckle fills your ear, only making you moan louder, the whiny sound reverberating off the walls. Your back arches, chest coming up to brush against hers as you writhe beneath her relentless pace. Grunts fill your ears as she finds the perfect rhythm, muttering the dirtiest things in your ear imaginable. The words she was spitting should've cut deep, but they didn't, only adding to your pleasure and making you physically react.

As you squeeze your eyes shut, you see stars flash behind your eyelids, her strap hitting that sweet spot each time she thrusts into you. Your knuckles are white from the animalistic grip you have on her sheets, your orgasm approaching quicker than you could've imagined. Billie doesn't miss the way your breathing pattern changes, feeling it on her chest and hearing it 10x louder now that your head was turned slightly to the side, "Bill—Baby, fuuckk... plea—!"

"Hm?—Tell me, Mama, tell me." She mutters, almost begging you as her hips slap against yours each time she fully bottoms out. An evil smile is plastered on her face, but you don't know that. You don't even know what she'll say in response to your pleas to cum. But, you honestly don't think you'd be able to hold it either way, "Too fucked out to speak, s'that it? Can't even think, can ya? My dumb girl."

"Cum—Wanna cum, please, need t'cum!" You warn, your voice a mere squeak as you pull at the sheets. Tears streak down your face now, her silence making it impossible for you to keep whatever composure you had left. Billie breathes softly into your neck, kissing your shoulder before coming up to press a sweet kiss to your neck. Much sweeter than the words that fall from between her lips, "I think you can wait, hm? Since you made me wait so fuckin' long for this." She shakes her head in faux disappoint, scoffing.

"Hold it." She snarls, eyes narrow, lips parted and swollen, hips relentless. The headboard hit the wall in time with her hips, bedframe creaking beneath your bodies as she fucks you wildly, making it impossible to obey her commands. You try to squeeze your thighs together, but she doesn't let them close, sighing in annoyance as she gives your throat a warning squeeze, having you gasp for air, "Just a little longer." She groans, almost like she can feel the way your pussy clenches around her dick, walls fluttering from the immense pleasure.

Cries and whines are the only things that can leave your throat, dry from the screaming and moaning you've been doing for almost—Fuck, you didn't even know at this point. All you did know was the size of her dick, the sounds of her groans, and the look on her face as she fucked you recklessly. The bed shook, and you were sure her neighbors would be here in the morning to complain about the noises, but neither of you cared. The only thing either of you cared about was that you finally had each other.

Your vision blurs from the tears in your eyes, trying your best to keep them open but failing in the end as she pushes her body closer to yours—if that was even possible—and hits you at a different angle, the silicone cock sliding deeper between your walls. She's almost surprised at how well you're holding up, a smirk on her face as she tries her hardest to break you, free hand pulling and twisting at your nipple as her other squeezes your throat from time to time.

"Cum." She finally allows. It takes you a moment to register, but once you see her head nod in your blurred vision, you let go. The light, wet ring around the base of the dick only gets whiter as your juices flow onto her, squirting onto your thighs and parts of hers as your body shakes uncontrollably beneath hers. Your back arches further, chest pressing harsher against hers as you cry out her name, lower lip trembling, "Thankyouthankyouthankyou—Mm.." Your words come out in a hurry, thoughts messy and incapable of forming any other words.

Her hips slow, helping you ride out your high before she stops completely. She leans over you, fingers unraveling around your neck and coming up to cup your cheek, thumb caressing your tear-stained cheek with a look of adoration in her ocean blue irises, "Y'think she'd be able to do that?" She teases, giggling softly at your mumbled words, your eyelids fluttering open and closed, clearly sleepy.

"Shh.." You giggle stupidly, pushing her face away weakly. You gasp quietly when you feel her pull out slowly, wincing at the slightly overstimulating feeling. The emptiness makes you frown, whining like a baby as she pulls away from your body completely, "No, no, Ma, m'right here." She coos as she comes back into your blurry vision, strap discarded somewhere on the floor. Her hands wrap around your body, enveloping you in warmth as she cuddles close to you, "She can't compare." Billie whispers, knowing damn well she won the stupid challenge that she made up.

[jackmanwife]

Professor!Logan has always been professional, but you can’t ignore the way he looks at you during his lectures anymore. It’s subtle— a look that lingers on for far too long when you raise your hand or a small smile when you answer a question correctly— but it’s enough to make your cheeks grow hot. He leaves you little notes on the papers he turns back to you, too, and you save every last one of them. Study material. “You're smarter than most of my other students,” he praises, but you just giggle out a small "Thank you."

Professor!Logan is starting to catch on. Sitting in the front row, you're doing all sorts of things to catch his attention. Twirling your hair around your finger a little, biting the tip of your pen, crossing and uncrossing your legs. When he looks your way, you make sure to hold his stare, letting your eyes drop to his lips before flashing a small smile. After class, he orders you to stay behind, but you know this isn’t about the paper you turned in. “You’re not just interested in the material, are you, sweetheart?” When he walks around his desk, he doesn’t sit. Instead, he stands in front of you, towering, and you look up at him, keeping your eyes on his. “You’ve been distractin’ me for a while,” He steps closer, and your back presses against his desk, “You want me to show you what happens when I stop holdin’ back, darlin’?” His hand slides up your thigh, fingers brushing against the hem of your skirt, teasingly close to where you’ve been needing him all this time.

Professor!Logan knows you're back for more. He’s got his reading glasses perched on his nose, running his hands through the stack of papers in front of him, “This couldn’t wait until office hours?” he asks, not looking up as he marks a paper and flips to the next one. You take a slow step forward, shrugging, “No, I…” He looks up now, leaning back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “I wanted some extra help.” Logan’s eyes narrow slightly. You swallowed, “I just need to understand the material you taught today better,” you said, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your voice wavered. Logan chuckles softly, lips curling into a smirk, “Is that so, darlin’? Because from where I’m sitting, it seems like you’ve got a…” His eyes take you in, looking you up and down, “different kind of help in mind.”

Professor!Logan is usually calling you back to his office after a long lecture. You’re sitting on his desk, legs dangling over the edge as he stands between them, his hands running up your thighs. “You sure you understood everything, sweets?” His lips brush against your ear before he presses a kiss onto it. One of his large hands slips around your waist, his fingers pressed firmly on your back, pulling you closer to him. You nod, leaning into his touch. “That’s good,” his thumb brushes gently over your cheek as he tilts your face up to his, “Been thinking about you all day, you know that?” He murmurs. You nod again, barely able to find your voice as his thumb brushes over your lip, and the look in his eyes tells you he’s just started.

Professor!Logan likes to keep you around now. You walk down the hallway to his office, a hot cup of coffee in your hand. You noticed the light still on under his door and couldn’t help but think about him working alone, grading papers into the early hours. Knocking softly, you step inside when you hear his short “Come in.” When you do, Logan looks up from his laptop, brows raised in surprise before they rest as he smiles. “What’re you doin’ here this late, darlin’?” He sounded so tired. You hold out the cup, and he takes it from you, his hand lingering on yours. “Thought you could use this,” you murmur, watching as he takes a sip, his eyes never leaving yours. He sets the cup down on his desk and shakes his head, “Always lookin’ out for me, huh? Come here,” he pats his open lap, “Keep me company for a while.”

[endless-ineffabilities]

chemical override (13)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: the elections distracted me! This should have been up ages ago 💙 Anyhow, look at our boy pout up there. Darling never stood a chance.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Darling gets closer to making her choice.

The holiday is already shaping up to be your most memorable one yet, and it’s only halfway done. 

Between all the commotion in the press about Ewan’s film, the lively spin-the-bottle game last night, and your… boys being more brazen in their affections, it doesn’t matter that you’re still half-limping and that one gorgeous blonde girl is testing the limits of your patience—Mallorca is one for the books.

Half of your vacation crew decided to head out into town for the afternoon, allowing you to see more of the local scene. Bethany, Phia, Luke, and Elliott have ventured off to see some shops moments prior, promising to rejoin the group with loads of goodies. So you walk the cobblestone streets with Tom and Freddie on either side, the lads promising to catch you should your ankle ‘betray you and make you faceplant on the street’. 

Because, as Freddie put it, they “can’t have the show’s rising star with a blow to her money-maker,” pertaining to your lovely face. 

You were able to finally remove your fracture boot that morning, after a long-distance call to your doctor, but you still have to slightly drag your left leg as you walk.

“Mate, if you could hurry up a little, maybe we can see more of the town,” Tom remarks with a cheeky smirk. He’s had an arm looped around yours the whole time, ever on the lookout. 

“Sure, let me just use my incredible powers of self-healing. Maybe we can check one of these souvenir shops if they’ve got a bionic leg on sale,” you deadpan, fighting hard to stifle a laugh. 

The fledgling weeks of spring bring a steady warmth to Mallorca. The sunlight is bright yet tempered as it casts its glow over the cobblestone streets, illuminating the quaint storefronts and cafes that line that town square. It’s a picture-perfect afternoon, so long as you don’t turn back to Ewan and Louise who are trailing a bit behind. 

But your curiosity wins over, and you see Ewan smiling politely as Louise gestures animatedly, completely absorbed in her tale. You immediately realise your mistake, a pang of something—guilt, longing, confusion… and jealousy, because who are you fooling—tightening in your chest. You quickly turn back to Tom and Freddie, who are too busy scheming to notice your reaction.

“So, do we let Ewan suffer, or do we intervene?” Tom asks, tilting his head toward the pair.

You can only shrug. “I think he’s handling it. It’s probably better to give them some space.” The truth is, you know Ewan well enough to sense when he’s at his wit’s end, and even though he looks like he’s about to throw in the towel, you don’t want to complicate things further. 

Who are you to deny Louise some quality time with your good buddy Ewan Mitchell? He is a stand-up guy, after all, and all of you are friends here. It’s a casual day out, nothing but a good time. 

And… you do need some time to let his confession sink in. He has given the power to you, and the only thing left to do would be to choose him.

You love him, you love him, you love him. 

So the choice should be easy, but why isn’t it?

Freddie smirks. “Space, you say? You mean you’re hoping he’ll finally snap and make a break for it?”

“Maybe,” you admit with a small smile. “Can you blame him?”

The three of you linger by a cafe, chatting to your heart’s delight. You catch sight of Ewan glancing your way, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. Hey, he mouths, staring you down until Louise nudges him, and he has to shift his focus back to her. 

“Honestly, though,” Tom continues, “what’s the deal with him and Louise? He looks like he’s drowning over there.”

“Maybe she’s finally wearing him down,” you say, half-joking, but you’re aware of how often Ewan gives too much of himself sometimes, especially to someone like Louise. The boy’s just too sweet and polite to say no. 

“I give him five minutes before he either leaves or starts shouting for you,” Freddie chimes in, his eyes dancing behind his sunglasses. “It’s a safe bet.”

Before you can respond, Ewan’s voice rises above the clamour of the street. “Actually, that’s not what I meant—”

“I can’t believe you thought that!” Louise interrupts, playfully punching Ewan’s arm, her tone a mix of disbelief and enthusiasm. “But that’s what makes you so unique! You always see things differently.”

What’s unique is the expression Ewan sports as a reaction, akin to a deer about to be hit by a Jeep.

“Unique?” Ewan repeats, a note of incredulity in his voice. He shakes his head, his mouth falling open, like he’s trying to find the words. Louise leans in closer, mentioning something about how cute he looks when confused. 

Well, she’s not wrong there. You have to hand it to her—she’s persistent.

“Why are we just standing around?” Tom suddenly says. “Let’s get some drinks. We need to fuel up for the gossip you owe us.”

“I’m in,” you say a bit too quickly, desperate for a distraction. You motion toward a quaint nearby bar with a bustling atmosphere. It seems like the perfect refuge, far from the intensity of the current situation. The bartender greets you with a grin, and Tom takes charge, ordering a round of brightly-coloured cocktails that seem to match the vibe of the holiday. 

Tom gives you a sly look over his glass. “So here we are, eh?”

“Here we are,” you nod, sensing something coming round the corner. 

“My god, this cocktail is amazing!” Freddie gasps dramatically, oblivious to the look you and Tom are sharing. “I must know what’s in this… Is that gin and… and what?”

“I myself would rather know,” Tom begins, leaning forward, “about the truth behind all the drama. The are-they-or-aren’t-they of it all. My missus has also been bugging me about it. All she talks about is you and your Ewan.” 

Freddie’s grin is huge as he raises his glass. “Bloody hell, cheers to that then! I know there’s something brewing, but no one ever tells me the details. What is this, a fight to the death? May the best Targaryen win? Lucky girl you are.”

Tom snorts. “Or may the right man win. Which, to be honest, is not Matt in this scenario.”

Freddie’s jaw drops in mock horror, clutching his chest. You may take the lad out of classical theatre for a while, but you can’t take classical theatre out of the lad. “Excuse me? Matt is a national treasure, he’s mature and reliable, and he throws a fabulous party. Might I mention how highly he speaks of you?”

Tom shoots him a scornful look. “Reliable. How riveting. Look, I love the guy, but Ewan’s practically half of her soul—”

You groan. “Can we not turn this into a debate? I’m actually trying to keep things simple now.”

“Simple,” Tom repeats, one blonde eyebrow arching. “Darling, nothing about this is simple, especially not since Ewan isn’t bound to that ridiculous PR setup anymore. Are you going to pretend that it doesn't change things?”

Freddie waves a finger. “It doesn’t have to change things. Matt’s good for her. I mean, they’re actually happy, and you need someone solid, love. Someone who isn’t going to fling you around emotionally, from the very little that I’ve heard.”

Tom rolls his eyes. “Of course, you’d think that. You get all your goss from Liv and she basically adores Matt.”

Freddie clutches his glass defensively. “Well I know for a fact that Matt is fun! And steady! You don’t need fireworks all the time to make something work.”

“But fireworks are the whole point, you know?” Tom insists. “You can’t reduce a relationship to sensible compatibility and call it love.”

“Love can be practical too,” Freddie says, looking at you. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just…breathe? To not have to worry about how he’s going to handle things every other minute?”

You wince, half-convinced by Freddie’s logic, but then Tom’s voice cuts in, softer, more serious.

“Sure, she could breathe,” Tom says, “but let’s not forget who actually takes her breath away.”

It hits you, the truth you’ve been dancing around with both of them.

Freddie gives you a sidelong look. “Alright, love, confession time. Say Ewan was still bound to that PR relationship, do you really think you could have handled not being with him? Watching him essentially be with someone else?”

You swallow, glancing down at your drink. “It would have hurt, but I would have had to handle it.”

Tom keeps the interrogation going. “And now? What would you do if he does end up with someone else? Louise seems to have her claws in him.”

You let out a huff, your next words decisive. “Look, if she can take him that easily, then he’s all hers.” Because that would mean all those heartfelt phrases about being so in love with you aren’t true. 

That’s the reasonable part of you. The other, less savoury part wouldn’t hesitate to get your own claws in Louise if she swoops in to take your man, petty catfight style.

“But see! See here,” Freddie exclaims in glee, “We’re talking about Ewan and she’s already stressed. She needs a break from the drama, Tom, and Matt is like… an oasis.”

Tom rolls his eyes but doesn’t let it go. “Sure, an oasis that leaves her wishing she were somewhere else half the time.” He sighs, his voice softening. “Look, Matt’s lovely, but he’s not the one. He’s not the one who can turn your whole world upside down, and I know you two. I’ve seen you together, I’ve seen you apart, and trust me, you’re so much better together. Hell, it’s better for all of us too! I simply cannot deal with Ewan moping around again.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you consider his words. It’s almost dizzying, trying to compare the two men, as though they represent opposite sides of you, each offering something you desperately need. They’re both right, in different ways. With Matt, there’s a sense of stability that you haven’t felt before. He’s steady, he’s sweet, and he genuinely adores you despite all of the tangled strings that have bound you to Ewan. 

But with Ewan… you want him, love him, with an intensity that is almost all-consuming. It’s the kind they write songs about, the kind that drives hearts crazy. 

Freddie drops the dramatics, his voice sincere when he speaks again. “Darling, Tom’s got a point, but just… be honest with yourself. What do you really want? Because whatever you decide, it’s your heart on the line. And you know, we’re here for you, no matter who you choose.” And then, as if with the flick of a switch, he turns his flair back on. “God, you could choose me, just so you don’t have to deal with this dilemma of yours anymore!”

You let out a breathy laugh, all the tension you’re feeling dissipating. “I just might!”

Tom mirrors your laughter. “Now that’s a dangerous idea. But hey, life’s short, right? You don’t have to have it all figured out right this second.”

Freddie grins, raising a toast. “To being a beautiful mess.”

You clink your glass with theirs, watching in amusement as they both begin bickering again over who’s really the better choice. As the debate drifts over to which drink to order next, a quiet but unmistakable presence makes its way to your table. Ewan stands behind you, his hands resting on the back of your chair. 

“I’ve been looking for you guys,” he greets calmly. 

Freddie doesn’t hesitate to take a playful jab. “Ah, Ewan! All by your lonesome now? Where’s your lady?”

Ewan perches on the last empty chair on your table, catching your eyes. “My lady’s right here,” he smirks, and he says the words with such ease that your cheeks heat. Everyone would benefit from taking lessons in the Ewan Mitchell School of Charm. “Fancy a walk, darling?”

You quickly glance at Tom and Freddie, whose raised brows practically tell you that they’re going to be chattering about this as soon as you’re out of earshot. “Try not to miss me too much, boys,” you wink at them, letting Ewan help you out of your seat and whisk you away. He offers his arm to you for support, and the two of you fall into stride, allowing the buzz of Mallorca’s streets to fill the quiet between you.

“So,” he starts, “I sure hope Tom and Freddie didn’t give you any trouble.”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you smile, your tone lowering as you decide to tease him a little. “We would have invited you over, but you seemed to have plenty of… entertainment yourself.” You playfully wag your eyebrows at him, and he makes a show of groaning and turning away.

“Don’t remind me, my darling,” he groans. “I was so close to faking an illness and making my escape.”

You chuckle at his apparent distress. “Poor Ewan. It must be so hard being adored by a beautiful girl, isn’t it? Wait, where is she again? Did you scare her off?”

“Phia came to my rescue. They went walking by the bay or something, I don’t know. And about being adored, it only matters to me if it’s by you.”

You’re about to lean into a joke and call his bluff, when he adds, “Well, you… and my mum.”

“I thought so,” you giggle, his eyes holding yours with a familiar sweetness. But then his gaze is snagged by something behind you. 

“Is it just me, or does that cat look suspiciously like Sansa?” Ewan points to the front display of a rustic souvenir shop, and you immediately see a plush black cat with curious amber eyes.

You gasp softly, your hand tightening around his bicep. “I did leave Sansa back with my neighbour in London, right?”

“Are you sure? She’s right there, darling,” he plays along, grinning. “I think I’d recognise my daughter when I see her.”

“Your daughter, huh? The most you have right now is visitation rights.”

“Wait here, baby,” he presses a kiss to your temple, leaving you leaning against the wall across the shop. He disappears inside, emerging just moments later, the little cat plushie already in his hands. His expression is tender as he passes it to you. “Here. Figured you could use a bit of home.”

You take the little black cat, heart swelling at the sweetness of his gesture. “Thank you, Ewan. She’s perfect.”

He’s all smiles, his dimples deepening as he nods in response. 

You hug plush Sansa to your chest. “Now I wish they also had whippet plushies, so I can give you a piece of home too…” 

Ewan’s gaze softens, and he shifts slightly, his gaze dropping as he gathers his thoughts. “Darling, I hope you won’t think I’m just trying to score brownie points here or something, given the current situation, but honestly…” He hesitates, but makes up his mind as his eyes meet yours. “If I wanted to feel at home, all I really need is… to be with you.”

Your breath catches, and your mind is too focused on what you’ve just heard that your hold loosens around plush Sansa, causing it to nearly stumble out of your hands. 

“Ewan,” you say softly, your voice laced with an affection you can’t quite dampen. “You don’t play fair, you know that?”

He chuckles, a little self-conscious, his hand reaching for yours. “You know me, darling, and you know how I feel about you.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the touch is light, almost reverent.

“So, no Sansa needed, huh?” you tease gently, trying to keep things light even as the weight of his words lingers. 

His smile returns, a little shy, a little playful. “You got that right. But maybe we don’t have to tell Sansa about this.”

You’re about to offer a witty rejoinder, when a cheerful shout slices through the air. “Ewan!” It’s Louise, her voice loud and undeniably eager, and you find yourself dropping Ewan’s hand. 

And either you’re not in her line of sight, or she just didn’t bother calling out to you too. What a delightful girl.

“Oh,” Louise finally acknowledges you. “That’s a nice… toy you’ve got there.”

“It’s a plushie actually,” you mutter dryly, wiggling plush Sansa in the air.

Ewan snorts at your deadpan expression, and much to Louise’s obvious annoyance, he drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you snugly against him. “I got it for her. It’s almost an exact replica of her cat, isn’t it, darling?”

Your eyes widen at his purposeful cheekiness. The lad has finally had enough of another girl trying to get a bite out of him. “Well, yeah…” you stumble on your words, “It does look like her.”

Louise pouts. “What a nice, friendly gesture.”

Ewan chuckles to himself, not letting her mood dampen his spirits. “I think it’s rather romantic.”

“Hold on,” Louise responds, appraising you with a raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you dating Matty?”

“Uhhh—”

“There you kids are!” Phia materialises out of thin air, an angel in disguise.

Oh, you could just kiss the very ground she walks on.

Everyone makes their way to the pool area the next afternoon, the group scattered all around the lush backyard of the villa.

Matt lingers outside your door, waiting for you to finish changing. He leans casually against the railing, his gaze drifting downstairs to Fabien and Elliott, who are hauling crates of beer toward the poolside. He whistles and shouts out a playful, “Save me some, lads!”

“Waiting on your woman, Romeo?” Elliott sings up at him.

Matt waves them away, spinning around to face your door. As he waits, his mind drifts back to a conversation he had with Liv the evening before. She’d seen right through him, spotting the quiet insecurities he tried to keep buried and urging him to go all in with you, to show you what he couldn’t quite put into words. And so, he decided he would; he’d pour everything into showing you just how much he cared.

He has the advantage in that he hasn’t hurt you the way Ewan has in the past, and he has absolutely no intention of doing so, not when being with you feels like the easiest, most natural thing in the world. 

To him, you are like the human equivalent of a shot of espresso, a musical laugh, a jolt of positive inspiration. He’s always felt this, but one night, many nights ago, this effect that you have on him became amplified.

And suddenly, you are all he sees.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way, especially not after you finally open the door. You don a forest green bikini that leaves little to the imagination, with a sheer white wrap tied loosely around your waist. 

Matt lets out a low whistle, walking up to you with a slow, playful swagger. You roll your eyes at him when he unapologetically draws his gaze over your bare skin, but he can’t help it.

You look so ravishing that he wants to push you back inside the room. As stunning as your bikini is, it would look even better off.

To hell with the pool.

“What do you think?” 

He has roused from whatever grey temperament he was stuck in, now that he’s had his espresso. “I'm a goner. Absolutely done for.”

“Flatterer.” You shake your head at him, taking in his broad, bare torso. “Well, you don’t look so bad yourself.” 

He smirks, his large hands kneading your waist. “I'm the luckiest man on the planet, and this is you after an accident, you say? My love, you're a vision in green.”

“You like the colour?”

“Mmm, if I didn't like you in it, I'd cause a fuss about how you're playing for the other team, my Alyna.” He swoops down and kisses the crook of your neck, the spot he is aware would tickle, eliciting a soft giggle out of you.

“I could never,” you say, swatting his arm. “They were just out of black bikinis at the shop.”

“Black... green... we both know you look the best without either of them on. I mean, we did establish that six times in one night, remem—”

“Matt!” you squeal, eyes wide and scandalised. He feels smug, because he made sure you would never forget that night. “You're such a dog. Come on, let's join the others. I can’t wait to finally dip my toes in the pool.”

He is one step ahead of you the whole time, paying special attention to your bad ankle. He knows he’s being too careful when you eye him strangely, but he doesn’t care. “I got you,” he says.

“I can walk, you know,” you huff. “I’d have been down here ten seconds ago if it wasn’t for you going all Mr. Protector.”

As you reach the final landing, Phia’s voice rings out, “Hands off my woman!”

“She’s got a point.” You tilt your head at Matt, lips pulling at the corners.

“Have I? I was just kidding,” she shakes her head, before mumbling under her breath. “I'm not Ewan.”

Matt huffs out in response, trying not to let it get to him. Phia takes your other arm, deaf to your protests. It’s silly, because they’re both aware that you can probably fend for yourself, but not if they have anything to say about it. 

Fabien, Elliott, and Harry are manning the grill out on the patio. Some of the ladies are cozying on their sun chairs. Ewan, Luke, and Freddie are smoking on a bench under a canopy. And Thom Yorke serenades the whole scene, the speakers emitting ambient music.

Matt’s always loved a good European excursion, but this one might be his favourite yet. Thanks to the girl who lets him fuss over her despite her feigned annoyance.

Your fingers dig tighter into his arm as the two of you lower into the pool. He relishes the moment and allows the ebb of the water to push him closer to his girl.

“Hold on to me.”

You roll your eyes, but wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway. “I'm fine, Matthew. My ankle’s almost healed back to normal.”

“Almost is the keyword there, my love. We can't take any chances. So... hold on to me, beautiful.” The late morning sun is a blanket comfort as you float on together, your laughter ringing out as he flaps an arm on the water and splashes your face. 

From the sidelines, Freddie lets out a loud, teasing whistle. Matt responds with a triumphant fist pump, turning to give him a cheeky grin. 

That might have been a mistake because his eyes landed on Ewan, seated comfortably to Freddie’s left, a cigarette burning low between his lips. His eyes are obscured by dark sunglasses, but he’s clearly surveying the scene unfolding in the pool with an air of nonchalance that doesn’t sit well with Matt. 

He would have expected Ewan to jump in the pool as well and make a show of laying a claim on you as he had before. But no. The younger lad just sits, and watches, the makings of a smirk pulling at his lips when Matt makes eye contact.

Since when has he been this self-assured? Perhaps you’re to credit for this renewed sense of confidence? 

Are you slipping away from him, and back into Ewan’s arms? 

Too many questions, and not even the pleasant haze of Spain can shake the anxiety out of him. 

But then, Liv strolls over, positioning herself in front of Ewan, blocking Matt’s view. She bums a cigarette from one of the guys, and as she turns, she gives Matt a subtle nod—a reminder of her advice from last night. Just show her, she’d said. Show her you’re all in.

Thank the heavens for Olivia.

Turning back to you, Matt softens, brushing a lock of hair from your face. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, feeling his doubts fade as you meet his gaze, eyes bright with laughter.

“Enjoying yourself there?” you ask sweetly.

“What’s not to enjoy?” he replies, his hand tracing slow, lazy circles on your back.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just don’t think I’ve ever seen you glare like that before.”

“I was not glaring.”

“You so were, Matthew.”

“Oh, yeah?” he murmurs, a mischievous glint sparking in his eyes. Before you can react, he dips underwater, reemerging just inches from your thigh, where he plants a quick, teasing kiss that makes you yelp.

“Wha—Oh! Matt! Get up here!”

He surfaces, grinning, his arms winding around you again as he pulls you close. Your laughter mingles, echoing across the pool as the rest of the group cheers and jeers good-naturedly.

Just as Matt’s about to pull you in for another kiss, a loud shout breaks through the calm. 

“Cannonball!” Tom’s voice echoes from the villa, and before either of you can turn around, he comes barreling out, sprinting at full speed. With a triumphant yell, he launches himself off the edge, arms and legs splayed out like a human starfish.

The massive splash sends water arcing high, soaking you, Matt, and everyone within a ten-foot radius.

“Always one to ruin the moment, Tom,” Matt jokes.

“Had to make sure you two didn’t get too cosy,” Tom shoots back, swimming closer and clapping Matt on the shoulder. 

It’s all in good fun, sure, but then Matt catches Tom shoot a quick wink at Ewan, a flash of understanding passing between them.

So that’s how it’s going to be? Game on. 

It’s the penultimate day of the Mallorca trip and the group has rented boats to paddle out along the stunning coastline. Only 2 people are allowed per vessel and some pairs have already formed—Phia and Phoebe, Louise thankfully pulled away from Ewan by Bethany, Harry and Freddie…

And then there’s Ewan who strides over to you determinedly. Matt is a half-step behind, his expression expectant, but Ewan is quicker. “I’m with you today, darling,” he says, his tone leaving little room for question. His hand finds yours, warm and grounding.

Matt’s eyes flicker with disappointment but he’s never been one to kick up a fuss. He gives you a faint resigned shrug, then turns to Liv. “Guess that means you and I are a team then.”

Liv rolls her eyes playfully, pushing her sunglasses up and swatting his arm. “Don’t sound so thrilled. But I promise I won’t make you row the entire time.”

Matt’s smile softens as he looks at her, his earlier disappointment slipping into something more relaxed. “Fine, but I’m claiming the right to judge your rowing skills.”

“I’ll have you know I’m an excellent rower,” Liv insists, taking her spot at the front of the boat and casting a teasing glance at him. “You, on the other hand…we’ll see.”

As you and Ewan push off into the water, he throws a glance back at the others, and a spark of mischief lights his eyes. “Think they’ll survive?”

You laugh, settling across Ewan on the boat. “I think it’ll be a surprise if Tom’s boat doesn’t capsize.”

Soon enough, everyone’s boats are spaced out on the clear, serene waters, and there’s nothing but the occasional splash of oars, the birds squawking high above, and the warm glow of the horizon. Ewan rows steadily, having doggedly refused your offer to help, and every now and then, his eyes flick to you, a soft smile never leaving his lips. His gaze lingers, like he’s committing your image to memory.

As you watch the world, he watches his world.

“Feels like another reality out here, doesn’t it?” he says, his voice barely above a murmur.

You nod, watching the sunlight dance across the water. “It really does.” You pause, glancing over your shoulder to see Liv and Matt, already in animated conversation. “It’s nice to just… forget everything for a while.”

He smiles, tilting his head. “Anything specific you wanna forget?”

You smile back. “Everything, really. The pressures, the expectations… wondering what everyone thinks or wants.”

From a few metres away, Matt’s voice carries over the water, cutting through the quiet intimacy of the moment. “I’m just saying, Liv, you don’t have to prove anything. You can let me row.”

Liv laughs, her voice filled with playful defiance. “Matt, I am fully capable of handling this. Maybe it’s you who should be taking notes.”

“Oh, I’d hate to step on your expert skills,” Matt teases back, before throwing a glance your way, his gaze lingering a bit too long before he turns back to Liv, who seems blissfully unaware of his momentary distraction.

Ewan notices it too, and his grip on the oar tightens ever so slightly. But he says nothing, keeping his focus on you as he rows further along the shore.

He steers the boat around a small bend, his voice low. “They’re good together, don’t you think?”

You turn, following his gaze. It’s a simple, easy dynamic between them, one you know you’ve seen before, and for a moment, a pang of something unnameable twists in your chest.

“Yeah,” you murmur, a touch distracted.

Ewan catches your gaze, his eyes searching yours. “You seem… surprised. Or maybe… jealous?”

You laugh it off, shaking your head. “Not at all. It’s just—”

But before you can finish, a sudden splash interrupts you. Harry’s boat has tipped over, both he and Freddie flailing in the water, their laughter filling the air as they try to right themselves.

Bethany, a few feet away, doubles over, her laughter carrying over the waves. “Oh my god, Freddie, I told you to sit still!”

Harry, sputtering as he surfaces, grins. “Guess I got too excited.”

“So I was wrong,” you turn to Ewan, smirking. “It’s not Tom who capsized.”

Ewan just laughs, then adds slyly, “Here I was wishing it would have been Matt.”

After the boats return to shore, you’re all tired and exhilarated, the sun higher in the sky as you make your way up the beach. But the peace is short-lived. Fans, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, begin to gather along the shore, their voices excited, cameras ready as they shout greetings and ask for photos. The relaxed energy shifts as each of you is drawn into the swirl of attention, questions flying as you try to keep up.

A fan steps in close, slightly shaking in her nerves. “You… and Ewan?” she asks, the question open-ended but its meaning clear.

You chuckle awkwardly, caught off guard, opting to just wrap an arm around her shoulders as she takes a selfie with you. 

But the fan is relentless, her attention shifting to Matt, who’s standing off to the side with Liv, his gaze directed toward you even as he signs another fan’s poster. “What about him?” she says, grinning.

Ewan’s arm slips around your waist protectively, pulling you closer. “She’s with me today,” he says confidently, not minding the possibility of this fan taking to the internet after this encounter, with proof of her ship actually being together.

Ewan doesn’t care; he has no reason to hide how much he wants you. Not anymore. If his fans want a crumb, as he often reads online about him, then he’s going to give them a whole feast. 

With you as the main course in the Ewan banquet.

As the day comes to a close, you find yourself resting all alone in your room, stealing the group introvert mantle right under Ewan’s nose. Everything that has happened during this vacation plays in your mind like a montage, and somehow, it all feels like it’s building up to a grand finale.

But before you can lose yourself completely in your thoughts, there’s a soft knock at your door.

You groan to yourself as you walk over, but your protest dies as you find Ewan standing there, holding something behind his back.

“Hey, you,” he greets you with a smirk that’s more mischievous than usual. “Got a minute?”

Your heart skips a beat — it’s always been that way with him, that instant flutter, even now after everything. “Sure. What’s up?” 

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” he says, his grin widening at your raised brow. He steps into your room, pulling whatever he’s hiding behind his back.

When he finally reveals it, you blink, eyes widening. “You... bought these?” You can’t help but laugh.

Two brightly coloured superhero masks — one Spider-Man, the other Spider-Gwen.

“Yep, I saw a costume shop that had Carnaval masks… and these too, apparently,” Ewan says, looking pleased with himself. “I thought it would be fun. We’re getting away from the villa tonight. I figured we could use these. You know, masks for our incognito date night.”

It had taken one quick scroll on the internet for your group to discover that the paparazzi trailed everyone around town today, and Elliott even annoyingly revealed that he might have seen one or two of them lingering outside the villa’s premises. 

Vultures.

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Wait, you’re serious? We’re wearing these to our… date? Wait, why are we going on a date?”

He shrugs with a playful glint in his eye. “Why not?”

You hesitate for a second. It’s such a ridiculous idea, but in the best possible way. He’s always had a way of pulling you out of your own head, making you feel like there’s no right or wrong way to just live in the moment. 

Or maybe he could propose anything—anything at all—and you’d be beside yourself if you refused. It’s how you and him ended up having copious amounts of…. casual lovemaking, months after breaking up.

“Okay,” you finally say, “but only if you promise not to laugh when I look completely ridiculous in it.”

“Never,” he says with mock solemnity, holding out the Spider-Gwen mask for you. “You’ll look amazing. Trust me.”

As you slink past the gates, the masks make you feel more than a little silly, but also oddly liberated. It’s like you’re in on another secret with him, something just for the two of you.

You look at him, smiling as you adjust the mask. “This is insane,” you say, your voice muffled behind the fabric.

Ewan smiles back, clearly pleased with himself. “I know. And it’s perfect.”

“Are you sure this isn’t just you practicing for an audition for yet another Spiderman reboot?”

He only playfully shoots air webs at you, his adorable pew-pew noises audible under his mask.

You chuckle softly, your heart warming at the sight of him. “So, what now? You’re just going to walk me through the streets like this?”

“Of course. You ready to go on the best secret date of your life?”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in days. “Lead the way, Spiderman.”

The walk isn’t long, just enough to enjoy the quiet of the night and the unexpected adventure of it all. When you finally arrive at the restaurant, you stop dead in your tracks, blinking up at the building in front of you. It’s perched on the edge of a cliff, offering a breathtaking view of the bay below. The warm glow of the restaurant spills out onto the street, and you’re immediately struck by how beautiful its facade is.

You look at Ewan, your surprise written all over your face. “This... this place looks amazing. How did you find it?”

“I have my ways,” he says, grinning. “Come on.”

He leads you up the stairs, and you both remove your masks as you enter, giggling to each other. You’re met with a homey, rustic atmosphere. There’s a dim light from lamps perched on the posts, the soft murmur of conversations, and the smell of fresh food in the air. It’s everything you didn’t realise you needed tonight—calm, peaceful, and more than a little romantic.

“I booked a private table for us,” Ewan says softly, glancing around for the waiter. 

The two of you are escorted to a table on the balcony, overlooking the bay. The moon reflects on the water, casting a silver glimmer over the scene. For a moment, you just sit there, both of you silent, taking it all in.

“Ewan, this is incredible,” you say, your voice quiet but full of admiration. “I don’t even know what to say.”

Ewan smiles, reaching across the table to take your hand. “You don’t have to say anything. And I promise this isn’t some ploy to get you to speed up your decision-making. I just… I just wanted you to have a night where you could forget about everything else.”

He leans back slightly, his eyes studying you with that gentle familiarity, like he’s waiting for you to say something more, but he doesn’t rush you.

You glance down at the simple sundress you’ve been wearing all day. You didn’t have time to change when Ewan mentioned the surprise evening out — there was no real thought given to a perfect outfit. And yet, as you sit here now, across from him in the warm candlelight, you don’t feel the usual self-consciousness you might’ve once felt. 

You feel more beautiful than you ever have before, because he sees you as the most beautiful person in the room. In any room.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you say, looking at him. “How you make everything feel so…” You trail off, unable to find anything adequate. 

His lips curl into a knowing, half-smile. “I feel the same about you.”

And you might not know it yet, but this night is when you choose him. 

Under the unprecedented rainfall, later on, you will realise that you never truly had to choose.

It’s always been Ewan, all along. 

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Some notes in the margins...

I have no notes. The red mirage is still at play as I type this. Please distract me in the comments 🥲

The next chapter wraps up this trip :) We also might have a bit of Liv's POV...

Then it's back to LA or London, depending on who darling opts to go with 💛

[ramblin-tiger]

With a wet squelching sound, Alice wrenched a massive mace from the skull of massive warrior demon. It had been a fairly even fight to her surprise, Most likely due to all the souls he had collected from the villagers before she had arrived to liberate them. With a flick of her wrist the massive mace was free of debris and she set it head first into the ground with a resounding thud before kneeling. The remaining villagers watched in awe from within their homes as the strange paladin lifted thier helm and placed it up on her knee, begining to offer a prayer. When she had arrived they instantly had recognized “Alice, Mace of Righteousness”, the Savior those who were repressed, be it by demons on mankind. Who’s signature mace, the two handed relic Demons-Weight, she held in one hand like a mere stick.

What they hadn’t expected were the signature horns on her helm to not be mere decorations. They did not expect her once fair skin to be marked by burns and scars clearly from the helm itself nor the bursts of flame occasionally escaping from the now open crevice of her armor. They did not ever dream that their saviour would actually be a Demon herself.

“O patron mine, Charon ferryman of souls, I beseech thee to hear my plee. Please retrieve the souls here released from mine victory against this demon, as I have no want nor need of such things. Please allow them their proper rest away from others who would wish them harm.”

With each word her armor had begun to glow as flames began encompassing her. It was as if every piece of her armor was angrily attempting to burn away what inhabited it. If Alice was in pain, she showed no signs of it. The villagers continued to watch in awe as the skin on her face burned away while just as quickly healing. It was af she was torturing herself by merely existing and making things worse with her prayer.

As suddenly as the flames had began they died. Those who had been watching could never agree on when the elderly man had shown up at her side. He never spoke, merely offering a nod to Alice, placing a withered hand upon her shoulder with a somber look before walking away into the distance.

Standing and placing the helmet once more upon her head with a small sputter of flames, Alice turned to leave as she always did and was surprised to be greeted by the few remaining villagers. There were perhaps about sixteen of them simply standing there, all woman except for a pair male children. Before Alice could utter a word one of the children, likely barely three winters old, had stumbled over and given her a hug around her waist. A muffled thanks floated up from the child, and Alice merely nodded and placed a armored glove on the child's shoulder.

"I am sorry I could not get here before the damage had been done small one. The only comfort I can offer is that your families souls will be safe and well taken care of."

Looking up, Alice realized that the others had also come closer as they also began to offer their thanks. One in particular had gotten her attention however. An elder woman that seemed to be staring at here as if recognizing Alice. Eventually the elder had come over, asking if she might touch her armor. Alice simply nodded as the elder traced her fingers across the emblem across her breastplate, a single word falling from her lips causing Alice to freeze.

"Josaphine..."

Alice's voice cracked as she spoke, clearly shaken at the name.

"How... how do you know that name?"

The elders eyes shot up, locking with Alice's through her helm, filled with a sorrow that easily matched that with rested withing Alice herself.

"She was my granddaughter." She stated matter of factly. "I was so proud to learn she had become a cleric of great renown. She always was a kind soul, always treating everyone the same no matter where they were from. Be it a king or devil, she would be as kind as mother to all."

Alice nodded gently, eyes still locked with the elder. "I know this very well. She and I were... close... she saved me from being destroyed many years ago, she is why I am able to protect so many." Alice paused a moment before adding, "Even though I was unable to do the same for my love."

To her surprise the elder smiled, resting her hand upon the helms cheek as if comforting a child. "Do not worry little one, things that happened in the past are not the fault of yours." Before Aloce could object the elder shushed her with a finger, smiling warmly. "Josaphine spoke of you often you know. When she would return home on her way between chapels. Oh how she would talk! Never had I seen a happier girl. And we had you to thank for her light being so bright. Just as we have you to thank for saving what light we have left."

The elder seemed to sense Alice's confusion, as she again smiled and kept on. It was a few moments before Alice realized she had somehow been brought into one of the homes and now sat at a table with the elder as she prepared a small bowl of stew.

"Even as a cleric, her faith was not in any one god, but in her own conviction. Anyone, no matter where from, could be a good person in her eyes. Even a demon~" The elder chuckled and bopped Alice's helmet gently.

"No hats at the table~" she quipped , a small joke to get Alice to remove it before eating so she could see her face better.

After remiving her helmet, Alice's raven hair spilled over onto her armor as her bright golden eyes watched the elder closely.

"Now then," the elder continued, "you know more than anyone how much love and compassion Josaphine had. You two were a couple after all~" Alice's face somehow managed to darken in embarrassment as she tried to offer an excuse before a raised spoon silenced her. "Shush child, there is nothing wrong with loving my granddaughter. Just because you are a demon does not make it inherently a bad thing. And besides, you wear her armor with pride and that makes me proud. Hearing of her death during the great battle years ago did sadden us. And you even more I am most certain. The timing was likely the worst that ever could have happened. Josephine had wanted to take your hand in marriage you see."

The spoonfull of stew attempted to go down Alice's windpipe as she started mildly choking on surprise at the elders words. After a good bit of hacking she stared at the elder for a moment before whispering, "she.. she told you that, to?" The words carried a shocked tone. "I.. she... it was to be a surprise, but I overheard her talking to herself one morning when she thought I hadn't yet woken. It was difficult to keep my excitement from showing. Not only was she the first person to show me any kindness, but she could always put a smile on anyone's face."

Alice pasued for a moment before continuing with a somber tone.

"Not even two days later... that's when the invasion from a neighboring county happened. They had surprised everyone by enlisting the help of demons..." Alice practically spat the word demons out, disgusted with her own kind. "Josaphine was one of the first to respond. She tore down many of their ranks protecting the children in the chapel, but was laid low by a wretch that had snuck behind during the fighting..."

Alice's voice caught as she recalled the day.

~~

She had gone out into the woods nearby to gather some things for dinner later that night. It was one of the few times she didn't uses illusions to hide her form and was a sort of peacetime for her. Only when alone with Josaphine did she lower her guise. The rising smoke in the distance was the first sign that something had gone wrong. Leaving her pack she had rushed back to find the small village besiged by both men and demons. It looked to be merely a scout force by it's size but for a small village ot was a death sentence.

Immediately Alice ran to the chappel to find Josaphine on the ground, a wicked dagger buried in her side as she laid on the ground bleeding out. Falling to her knees Alice frantically searched for something to stop the bleeding before Josaphine grabbed her hand with a weak smile. Even though she knew she was dying she only asked if the children were safe. Tears falling from her face Alice told her that the holy site had kept the demons out, and that it looked like the human soldiers hadn't made it there yet. A wave of relieve had washed over Josaphine, a smile following shortly after.

"Protect them, Alice. The children have always loved you. Even when they followed you into the forest without you knowing." She coughed up some blood as she paled, but laughing weakly she continued. "I know it's selfish of me, but please finish what I could not. Save those that remain... please..."

The sound that left Alice as she watched the light leave Josaphines eyes could have only been described as pure anguish. Taking up Josaphines great mace as she stood, Alice winced as the holy power set her hands ablaze. But she did not care. All she cared about was fulfilling her loves final wish. With a battle roar that would challenge ever an arch demon she set out to stop those that had taken everything from her.

~~~

Snapping back to the present, it was clear that the elder had patiently waited for Alice to come back to her senses. "You know, Alice, she did leave something here for you. We never knew how to get a message to you, and unfortunately it had to come about this way, but nevertheless you're here now." The elder placed a small box on the table next to Alice. Staring at it for a moment Alice debated what to do. The size made it seem like a bracelet box perhaps, maybe a small coin stash even. Curiosity got the better of her finally, wanting to know just what Josaphine had left her, and when she opened it tears fell from her golden eyes again for the first time in years.

A pair of rings lay within a velvet blanket inside the box. One looked to be made of pure silver and the other of obsidian. It was clearly a play on their very beings, but what caught her attention the most was that the rings interlocked to become one. Gingerly picking them up and merging them she marveled at the craftsmanship. "These.. these are mine now?" Was all Alice could manage to say. The elder nodded, a smile again across her wrinkled face. Alice pulled a small length of chain out of her breastplate and looped the ring onto it, stowing it back inside close to her heart.

"Know that anytime you need rest, you are always welcome here. As far as I am concerned you are my granddaughter just as much as Josaphine was. This is your home as much as it was hers. And if you ever need to talk about the past, well, I'll be here."

Alice nodded, surprising the elder with a sudden hug and whispered thank you.

"I'll be sure to come by more ofter then grandmother."

You are a demoness that fell in love with a female paladin, however when her order discovered her affair she was murdered. Now, despite how her arms and armor burn you, you set out to continue her work.

[logoleptic-since-06]

Strip Club Owner!Sukuna

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Stripper!Reader, Smut, P in V, Degradation, Praise, Use of 'Good Girl', Reader Gets Called a 'Slut', Dom!Sukuna, Sub!Reader, Spanking, Doggy Style, Creampie, Not Proofread

(18+) Minors Do Not Interact

Club Owner!Sukuna who enters the strip club he owns after over two months. Ignoring the booming loud music, he makes his way to the VIP section, getting the best seat for the next performance.

Club Owner!Sukuna who sips his drink as you come up to stage in nothing but a skimpy gold lingerie.

Club Owner!Sukuna who watches intently, his eyes following your every move as you sway to the rhythm according to your choreography.

Club Owner!Sukuna who has never seen you around here before, you must be new.

Club Owner!Sukuna who is glad you got employed in his club of all places, for he has never seen a performer quite as charming and talented as you. 

Club Owner!Sukuna who orders for a private performance from you.

Club Owner!Sukuna who sits in the VIP chamber as you dance only for him, his sweet little show.

Club Owner!Sukuna who remains perfectly still as you take your top off, your tits exposed as you wiggle and squeeze them mid performance before coming over to him.

Club Owner!Sukuna who holds eye contact as you straddle his lap and begin to grind and sway against him.

Club Owner!Sukuna who grabs your thighs roughly, causing you to stop what you’re doing with a jerk.

“Sir, it’s against the rules to–” “I own this place, I make the rules.”

Club Owner!Sukuna who then grabs your ass and pulls you closer, your clothed pussy directly grinding against his dick through his pants. You moan out slightly, making the corner of his lips curl up in a small smirk. You begin to grind against him with a greater force.

Club Owner!Sukuna who suddenly pushes you off his lap and bends you over the nearest table. He lifts your tiny skirt up, revealing your thong which does little to nothing to hide your plump ass.

Club Owner!Sukuna who rubs your ass and spanks you once before you feel his hard cock slam into your needy cunt.

“Hahh fuck, too much,” you whimper out. “Shh, take it like a good girl."

Club Owner!Sukuna who keeps thrusting into you as you feel the pleasure build up fast, letting go the moment you feel his thick cum splash inside of you.

Club Owner!Sukuna who pulls away and stares at his own cum leaking from your cunt as you remain bent at the same position. 

“Tsk tsk, such a dirty girl, taking my cum like a slut,” he taunts as he inserts a finger into your cunt, his own juices flowing over his fingers and shoving them inside of you, making you whimper. “Come here, darling,” he says, now softly, as he sits back on his arm chair and sits you over his lap.

Club Owner!Sukuna who plays with your hair and kisses your neck.

“You did such a good job for me,” he coos. “How about I give you a proposition?”

[ham1lton]

oo for the lovesick!lando mini smau prompts what about him commenting wedding vows or something sexual on just about every post that contains yn even if its not something he posted , like hamlintomshaderoom posts yn crossing the street and hes practically proposing in comments

author’s note: hi!! so this is in the toxic!y/n and lovesick!lando universe so this is my warning that it isn’t a healthy relationship. this is an au and if toxic fictional relationships are not for you, please don’t read! this is a joke au <3

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liked by landonorris, land0.mov, lando.jpg and 1,928,091 others.

ham1ltonshaderoom: musician yn yln seen in the streets of manhattan as she does some shopping in the city. she was surrounded by fans before being escorted away to safety by security. this is her first appearance since the release of her controversial self-titled hit album. thoughts?

view all 287,928 comments

user1: HERE BEFORE LANDO 😁

landonorris: LOVE IT

landonorris: GORGEOUS

landonorris: SHOW STOPPING

landonorris: SALIVATING !!! ONLY SHE CAN DO THAT

landonorris: SHE’S SOOOOOOO 😻😻😻😻😻

landonorris: WEDDING NOW!!!! 💍

-> ham1ltonshaderoom: stop camping out in our comments. we will block you.

user2: the way he literally is obsessed with yn

-> user3: like bro MOVE!!!! we’re obsessed with yn too 😭

-> user4: it’d be cute if it wasn’t cringe

user5: lando norris please can you not text her this

-> landonorris: she blocked me

-> landonorris: temporary setback

-> landonorris: still together!!!

-> user6: need to be as delusional as you. need to get on whatever you’re on rn 😭😭

user7: lando still being whipped after the release of P4THETIC! is insane!!!!!!

-> user8: like she wrote a number one song about how much of a loser you are and you’re still simping 😭 need her badly. i just know she’d change my life.

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Original Post:

r/AmItheAsshole

Posted by u/p4throwaway1234

AITA for not breaking up with my girlfriend after she wrote a song about how pathetic I am?

okay so, throwaway because this is kind of embarrassing. my (24M) girlfriend (23F) is a singer-songwriter, and recently she released a song. it’s super catchy and doing really well, but it’s… definitely about me. she doesn’t say my name, but the lyrics are about how she’s dating this “pathetic, lovesick fool” who “worships the ground she walks on” and “thinks he’s a prince when he’s really just a jester.”

here’s the thing: i honestly didn’t care 🤷. i know i’m kind of obsessed with her, and yeah, i get clingy sometimes. it’s a joke between us, and i thought that was her way of being playful. i even posted the song on my socials when it dropped because i was proud of her.

but my friends are all saying it’s humiliating and disrespectful, and i should break up with her. now she’s upset because she found out they’ve been telling me this, and she blocked me on everything. i just want to know if i’m the asshole for not immediately dumping her like my friends think i should.

Top Comments:

[deleted]:

“A lovesick fool who worships the ground she walks on”? Bro, she doesn’t respect you. YTA for staying with someone who thinks you’re pathetic.

u/relationshipguru420:

bro, read your own post. she wrote a whole song called about YOU being PATHETIC. and you’re still simping? get a grip.

u/toomuchdrama69:

INFO: Is she still blocked? Because if she wrote a whole diss track about you and blocked you, I think the relationship is over.

u/throwawaydetective:

Wait… is this about who I think it is? If it is, there’s no way this guy doesn’t know.

u/relationshipwreckage:

Dude, she literally called you a jester. It’s giving clown.

u/sadboiforlife:

yta. if my gf wrote a song like that and then got mad when ppl told me to leave her, i’d be out. respect yourself, my guy.

u/wedoresearch:

sounds like she’s making money off your humiliation. yta for staying in a toxic relationship.

OP’s Update:

(two days later)

u/p4throwaway1234

UPDATE: we talked it out and we’re back together. 😊

so after all the drama, we talked and sorted things out. she said she didn’t mean to hurt me with the song—it’s just her way of expressing herself. and honestly? i get it. i love her creativity, even if it’s at my expense sometimes. i told her i’m not listening to my friends anymore, and we’re stronger than ever now. thanks for the advice, everyone! 😁

Comments on the Update:

u/relationshipwreckage:

WHAT?

u/toomuchdrama69:

bro.

u/wedoresearch:

this has to be satire.

u/sadboiforlife:

you have got to be kidding me.

OP’s Replies:

u/p4throwaway1234:

nah, we’re solid. it was all a misunderstanding. she didn’t mean it in a bad way, and we laughed about it.

u/sadboiforlife:

she BLOCKED you.

u/p4throwaway1234:

yeah, but it was just temporary. we’re good now. everyone fights sometimes!!

u/relationshipwreckage:

she made a song calling you pathetic and somehow that’s okay?

u/p4throwaway1234:

it’s art. she’s passionate. i’m her muse.

u/yikesmcgee:

😭 i can’t. you deserve better, king.

u/throwaway1234:

yes and she’s the best. ❤️

u/toomuchdrama69:

no, bro, you’re delusional.

u/p4throwaway1234:

nah, just in love. 💕

u/wedoresearch:

can’t wait for the next song called ST1LL P4THETIC.

u/p4throwaway1234:

and i’d stream it.

u/relationshipwreckage:

you can’t save him.

u/sadboiforlife:

fr. he’s too far gone.

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