#the way i will never ever ever shut up about this

[webism]

☆ gojo is so big that you have to go slow with taking him otherwise he will break you. and he loves that fact—he’s so cocky about it, about how every aspect of him is so overwhelming to you that you can’t take his cock without crying.

and they’re good tears, tears that taste good on his tongue when he licks them from your cheeks. tears that spring hot in your eyes with every inch he manages into you—he’s too much, though at the same time you can never get enough of him.

“gonna finally take all of me tonight, baby?” he mocks you, grins at the way your eyes squeeze shut as he rubs at your clit in hopes of relaxing you a tad. ��you know, i could flip us over.. let gravity do the hard work.”

you accept because it sounds good in theory. gojo flips you both over and lays on his back as you find purchase with your fingers splayed over his heaving chest. but being like this, with satorus pulsing dick still barely half inside of you, you realise gravity hates you.

because although you're dropping just that little bit further down on his cock, your legs are trembling like it's an effort to keep you off of him. and gojo, being the cocky man he is, takes hold of your hips and works you even further downwards onto his length.

"fuck," is all you can manage, he's painful and narcotic all in the same stroke and so deep inside of you that you swear he's in your stomach. you shake your head, "i can't. you're too big, im sorry."

satoru shakes his head, looks up at you with those lust-blown eyes of his and smiles. "you want me to pull out?"

and as he tries to pull you up and off his length, slow as not to hurt you, there's a look on his face that you can't miss. he's so pretty when he's plotting, but you're only given a second to admire him, because just as he's about to pull the tip of his aching cock out of you, he lets go of your hips.

and your legs fail you, your body collapses downwards and you, in turn, are impaled on his prodigious length once again. you could cry, you think you do—your cheeks are wet when you fall forwards and your gasp of shock is swallowed by gojo, who kisses you hungrily. his fingers dig into your hips as he smiles against your kiss.

you feel his cock twitch inside of you, deeper than you've ever been able to take him before, and you realise you're practically at the base. you've never felt so full... so good... so stretched out and overwhelmed. and when your boyfriend tests the waters and fucks up into you just a little, a breathy moan is drawn straight from your lungs.

"toru—"

"shh," he snaps his hips up again to stall your words. "finally gonna cum inside of you, baby, not pulling out until you're left just as full as you are now."

and if your lover is anything at all, it's a man of his words. you'll have to call in sick tomorrow.

[smutoperator]

A Horny Hostage

Lalisa Manoban (Lisa) x Male Reader

Kinkvember Chapter 1

Main kinks: kidnapping, golden shower, interracial (BWC), car sex

Word count: 3239.

New York City, United States, October 15th, 2024

What a day it has been for Lisa. Never in her wildest dreams when she started her idol career, she thought she would become a Victoria's Secret angel. She was as happy as ever.

"Come here, let's take some pictures," a photographer oriented her, bringing Lisa close to a van with its right side door open, where you took some pics of her, with her liking the best the one where she flaunts her cute ass.

"Good, let's take some more pics," you say to her after she looks at the ones captured in your camera and approves them. However, all that was just a trap to lure the (not so) innocent Thai girl into your plan.

A pair of masked dudes emerges from the side and shoves Lisa inside the van; you follow them, getting yourself on the backseat of the van while your two partners drive it away from the show. The newly crowned Victoria's Secret Angel is now just a hostage.

Lisa panics a bit; she screams for help at first, but no help is about to come. "So, let's blackmail her billionaire boyfriend into dropping some good money for the new woman we got with us," you say to your partners in crime. Despite the crowded traffic of New York City, your van quickly passes through Brooklyn, then Queens, and soon reaches the wilderness of Long Island.

Lisa is tied up, but you slowly calm her down. "We are going to free you in exchange for some favors," you tell her. "What kind of favors?" she asks. "You'll find out soon," it's all you can say for now.

You untie Lisa and start touching her body parts. Her long legs, her dark hair, and then hovers your hands around her pussy. "Careful, boy, you're looking for something that you can't handle," Lisa says to you. But you quickly shut her down. "I'm pretty sure I can handle you fairly easily; if your ugly ass boyfriend can do that and all he's got is money, I can do it too," you tell her.

"So you think you can handle this?" Lisa says, flaunting her ass for you. That arrogant brat is starting to get on your nerves. You then play with the dark wings from her outfit, which were stored inside the fan as well. "Fallen angel, I want to see you turning into a wild devil," you tell her. "If you say so, then I'll show you something," Lisa says.

"Then show me what kind of badass you are," you tell her, reaching with your hands to touch her pussy. "You have a nice pussy out there, you tell her, taking off the bottom parties of her outfit and leaving just her panties on. "Those bare legs are so sexy," you say, running your hands over them. "Take it off; I want to see you with just a bra and panties, the way I bet your boyfriend does every day," you tell Lisa, who obliges and takes the piece of fabric covering her bra.

"You really like to flaunt how much of a hottie you are since leaving idol life," you say to Lisa. "Well, if you let me, I'll do it even more," Lisa says, reaching towards your crotch and noticing your cock is already throbbing for her and ready to burst off those pants. But you slow her down, grabbing her neck and kissing her. "You're a bad bitch, aren't you?" you ask her.

"You're hot as fuck; now come suck my cock," you tell Lisa, unzipping your pants and showing off that big white cock to her. "Bet it's much bigger than your boyfriend's," you tell her. Lisa strokes it, then bends over to get a taste of your cock, allowing you to see her great ass from above as her sexy mouth gets it wet.

"Hmmmm, it tastes so good," Lisa says. "Fuck yeah, it does," you reply, letting her take the initiative and blow that pipe off while you caress her ass. You push your balls closer to her mouth, challenging her as she deepthroats you. But you quickly put a halt to her fun, pulling her top down and sucking her little tits.

"Hmmm, you like my cute little boobies," Lalisa says to you. "Yes, they are cute, but your mouth full of my cock is hotter," you say, dunking her head against your massive shaft and making her take it. "Fuck, that booty is so hot; I didn't know Asian girls could be so thicc at the bottom," you compliment her ass. "Well, it's definitely good; I bet you want to put that big fat cock in it later," she says.

"Give those fucking balls some love too," you tell Lisa, letting her lick it. But what she likes the most about sucking cock is the ability to deepthroat it, so Lisa just gets back up and takes your whole shaft in her mouth shortly after.

"Ohhhh shit, you suck my cock so good," you say to Lisa. "It's because it's so big and perfect for my little mouth," she answers as you just let her take it and give her butt a little spanking. "Now I want you to lick it like ice cream," you say to Lisa.

Lisa obliges and licks that shaft like the good whore she is. "Perfect, keep licking it and look at me when you do it," you tell her as she giggles. "Come on, show me you're a bad bitch; it's just you and me in the back seat of this car," you continue.

You pull Lisa's panties down, giving her sexy ass a few spankings. "Get them all the way down; I'll keep them as a souvernir," you say to her. "Now get on the floor and spread those legs," you give her another command.

You reach your hands and start toying with Lisa's fuckholes. Her pussy gets some fingering while your thumb goes straight into her butthole. You enjoy watching her moans just get muffled by your massive cock stretching her mouth.

"Perfect cocksucker, let me reward you for that," you say to her. "OUCH FUCK YES," Lisa screams as you start repeatedly hitting her ass hard. "Good girl," you say after, patting her head too and pushing it deeper down your shaft.

"You want that dick in your Thai pussy?" you ask Lisa. "Of course I do," she answers. "Then let's go for a ride," you say. "Bro, she is indeed the bad bitch you claimed; I'm jealous," the guy driving the van says, sliding the window down to check it a bit.

"Let's go, baby," Lisa says as she gets your cock wet with a few more suckings. You take her top off and then finally manage to grab her panties as a souvenir like you wanted, pulling it down once again and this time for good. Lisa is now butt naked as she prepares to sit her cunt on your cock.

"OHHHHH FUCKKKK," Lisa gets surprised by the size of your big white manhood in her pussy. Even her boyfriend's can't match. As a big white cock whore, she's truly having the time of her life. You make sure to use your hands to reach and push your shaft as deep as you can in her cunt. "OH MY GODDDD, UHHHHH," she moans as your tip is already reaching her cervix, the 10 inches of your massive pale pole stratching her out and bulging under Lalisa's long torso.

Lisa tries to bounce on your big cock, but her fun is short-lived. As soon as you get fully inside her, you start pumping it upwards. "UHHHH, UHHHHH," she says, getting caught off guard by your thrusts. "OH FUCK ME," she moans as you grab her butt and take full control of her body, your hips clapping fast against her cheeks as you destroy her cunt.

"UHHHHHH, UHHHHH, UHHHHH," Lisa keeps moaning as your cock attacks her pussy relentlessly, her body swinging as the car makes a sharp turn. "OHHHHHH MY GODDDD, JUST LIKE THAT, YEAHHHH," she screams with no fear of getting heard by anyone besides your crew. She clings to any support she can find in the van, as you only increase the pace of your pumps.

You thurst so hard against Lisa's Thai pussy that her pink anus is already winking. "DON'T STOP, DON'T STOP, USE ME," Lisa begs. And indeed, you won't stop, moving Lisa's body to the side and keep pumping her pussy hard, treating her like the fucktoy her boyfriend had too much respect for to use her like that, unlike you, who has none for this whore.

"FUCKKKKKK," Lisa keeps screaming, her voice cracking at all points. She probably used it more already by moaning like a bitch than in any of her performances as a soloist. "Oh, it's so good; oh, it's so fucking good; keeps using that pussy; oh my GODDDDDDD," she moans. "Uh uh, uh uh, uh uh," she moans as even her little tits are managing to bounce, given the intensity of your thrusts against her.

"OH YEAH, OH YEAH, SPANK MY ASS," Lisa says as you add extra hit to her already intense punishment, slapping her butt nonstop without losing any speed as you continue to fuck her pussy like a madman. "Come closer," you tell Lisa, who is so numb already she doesn't even notice the roof of the van, hitting her head against it.

"That's so good, so good, so good," Lisa repeats as you push her skinny body close to yours. Lisa stares at the window, the cary flying fast towards the roads of Long Island while your cock does your work in her cunt. Her spatial awareness is completely gone as her head keeps hitting the roof, and your cock hitting her cervix at all moments doesn't help.

"OHHHHHH GODDDDDDD," Lisa screams as she clings onto you, barely avoiding a hit against the glass as you keep attacking her pussy. A police helicopter flies close to your car, making you wonder if they are coming to rescue her. But you just don't care; her pussy is too good and worth getting arrested for.

You finally come to a stop, giving a little tap on Lisa's ass. "Good girl," you praise her abilities to take your white cock in such a confined space. But that's no surprise, given her flexibility acquired from years of dancing. You give her pussy a few extra pumps. "Oh my God, you fuck me so good, ah, ah, ah ah, ah," Lisa moans as your balls hit all the way up to her winking butthole.

Lisa climbs out of your cock, moving cautiously to avoid hitting the roof. She twists sideways and tells you to put your cock back in her pussy, starting a reverse cowgirl ride where the guys driving the fan will have a privileged and distracting view of her hot body bouncing on your cock.

Well, so she thought. You aren't keen on changing your ways, pumping your cock once again hard against her pussy. "OH MY GOD, PLEASE," Lisa begs, trying not to fall down as your cock pumps deep inside her. She opens her legs and moves them around, trying to get better support, but you just don't stop, grabbing her thigh and continuing to thrust like a madman. "OH MY GOD, IT'S SO GOOD," Lisa moans as your balls hit right at her clit.

You fuck Lisa so fast her head now uncontrollably hits the roof of the car. You lean her body against yours, pumping her pussy at a pearly gates position, her Thai pussy just getting used by your big white cock. "FUCKKKKK, AHHHHHH, YOUR COCK IS SO GOOD," Lisa screams, getting out of breath as you just can't stop leveling her cunt. "OH YES, OH YES, OH YES," Lisa says as your cock hits her cervix constantly, you push her up, and her head hammers the roof once again.

You pull out of Lisa and pick up one of the folded seats of the van, pushing it back up. Lisa sits on it and spreads her long legs. You dive to eat the pussy you just obliterated for long minutes, licking her wet and used-up folds. "Looks like my big cock wrecked it good," you say to her.

"And I want it to wreck it again, uhhhh, ahhhhh," she tells you, interrupting herself with moans as your licking is too good for her to resist. You don't need much to put her on the verge of orgasm, as her pussy is already throbbing after so much pounding, and soon Lisa's long legs start shaking.

"Ahhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhhh, ohhh yeah, eat my pussy good" she moans as you tongue her folds. You kiss Lisa's pussy and move into thumbing her anus. "Hmmm, it's so tight, I wonder if my cock can fit in it," you say. "I guess you should try it, baby," she replies.

But first, you have to get your cock a bit slicker to slide on Lisa's sexy ass, giving a few pumps to her pussy instead as her wet folds lube up your shaft. You grab Lisa's leg and fuck her sideways, pinning her against the seat of the van. "Oh my God, oh my God, ahhhhh," Lisa moans.

You finally switch to fuck Lisa's ass, but your cock is so massive you struggle to get in at first. Lisa gasps with just your tip inside. "It's too fucking big for my tiny little ass," she moans. "Well, let's see," you reply.

You thrust your cock against Lisa's ass, her now coping with her butthole getting stretched out by fingering herself. "FUCK THAT ASS, YEAH," she moans. "God damn it, why do you have to be so big?" she asks as your cock digs deeper and deeper.

"Keep going; I need you all the way deep in my fucking ass, uh huh, uh huh," Lisa says as your cock slowly disappears inside it. You twist your fingers inside Lisa's pussy while your cock stays buried inside her asshole, making her scream even further. From time to time, you switch to her pussy to get some extra lube from her juices onto your cock.

Lisa's legs are so long the fingers in her right foot are now what's hitting the roof of the car while you keep fucking her ass. She opens her legs further, hitting the glass that separates the backseat of the van from the cabin. "DON'T STOP FUCKING MY ASS, PLEASE," she begs.

And who said you ever planned to stop? You push the pace and the depth of your cock inside her butt, rubbing your hands against Lisa's little tits as well while she moans like a good slut. You started choking her. "I love that baby, getting shocked while you fuck me in the ass; keep going," she says.

"Come here, let's try a different position, get on your knees, slut," you say to Lisa, who follows your orders, getting herself on all fours and clinging to the backseat of the van as you stay fucking her ass this time from behind. "AHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHH, OH YEAH, FUCK FUCK FUCK," she moans hard as your cock stretches her tight butthole out while your big hands reach to keep choking her.

"What the FUCK FUCK FUCK," Lisa says as you suddenly change the pace, grabbing her waist and giving her ass fast and hard poundings. "Fuck, I love stretching your tiny little ass, Lisa; your cute, sexy butt looks so good with my cock deep inside it," you say to her.

You stay grabbing Lisa's waist, not letting her get out of your grasp at any second as you fuck her ass. "YEAH FUCK THAT ASS, YEAH, OH MY GOD," she moans. You grab her arms from behind and thrust hard up her butt, using the motion of the van in your favor. "OH MY GOD, YOU'RE SO GOOD IN MY ASS," she says.

"Spread those legs wide," you command to Lisa, enjoying the way your cock just disappears inside her tight butthole. You then slide Lisa's body on the car's floor. "Wow," she says, as you get ready to get on top of her and pound her tasty ass even harder.

"Get that ass all the way up," you tell Lisa, who obliges, gaping her tight butthole as you slide inside it at a prone bone position. Lisa spreads her ass, trying to ease off the pressure of her tight hole, but it's to no avail; you just pound her relentlessly. "FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME, OHHHHH, IT'S SO GOOOD," Lisa moans as you stretch her tight asshole hard, hitting her in the face and mounting on top of her like a raging bull, your hips clapping hard against her cheeks.

"OHHH, DON'T STOP BABY," Lisa begs as you impose on her a hard anal destruction; her body shakes with the insensity of your fucking. Your big white cock sends her to the heavens in a way her boyfriend's never could. She moans like a good whore, pleading to God. 

"Are you ready for that cum?" you ask her. "OH YEAH, BABY, I'M MORE THAN READY, OHHHHHHH," Lisa answers as you grab her waist and push your cock deeper and deeper in her ass. "Shit, Lalisa, your butthole is too tight; you're going to make me cum at any second," you say to her, clapping her cheeks hard.

"FUCK YEAH, GIVE IT TO ME, GIVE ME THAT CUM," Lisa begs. "Then come here, get that ass up," you tell her, pulling out of Lisa and jerking your cock off until your seeds coat her sexy butt. You pick your phone up and take a picture of Lisa's cum-covered ass, giving it a little taps aftwards. " "Send it to Fred," you tell her.

Lisa messages her boyfriend as you stay starting at her butt and appreciating your white sperm all over it. You enjoy looking at her body, but one of the guys on the cabin suddenly interrupts you.

"Bro, we need to pee," he tells you.

"Alright, let's find someplace," you say to him.

"We are too far from the city; we'll need to pee at those woods," he replies.

"Wait, I think I have a better plan; stop the van," you answer him.

You slide the van's door open and bring a completely naked Lisa to the outside. It's freezing cold out there, but your cock is still throbbing. "Guys, I think I found the perfect place for us to pee," you tell them.

The three big white cocks start bursting hot piss all over Lisa's sexy body. To their surprise, she fully embraces it, opening her mouth when the pee gets close to it and loving the way you guys turn her into a walking urinal and cover her entire body full of that dirty liquid.

"Wow, that's so hot," Lisa says after you three finish pissing on her.

"Glad you liked," you say to her.

"Bro, looks like Fred paid the rescue money; should we just leave her there and tell him the location?" one dude asks.

You look at an abandoned cabin hidden in the woods and sense Lisa is still horny and wants more.

"I think we can wait until dawn; let's fuck that bitch airtight at the cabin first," you say.

"Done deal."

[twirlyleafs]

“Bet”

Lando Norris x Verstappen! Reader

TW: Angst, betrayal, huuuurt

A/N: this pained me

~~~~

Lando started to sense something was wrong when you weren’t in the garage after qualifying. Usually, you’d be there, waiting with a bright smile and open arms. Just before he got into the car, he’d kissed you, feeling his chest tighten with affection as you laughed, cheeks dimpling, when he barely ghosted his lips over your skin. Like always, you’d whispered the same playful, “Break a leg,” but then softened, as you added, “Just… be careful, okay?” He’d winked, like he always did, flicked down the visor, and sped away.

When he returned, he instinctively searched for you, expecting that warm, familiar presence, only to feel the slight pang of disappointment settle in his chest when you were nowhere to be found. A hint of a frown tugged at his lips as he asked around, and one of the team members mentioned they thought they’d seen you leave. The uneasy feeling took root in his stomach, coiling tightly.

By the time he checked the Red Bull paddock, Lando was certain something was wrong. He found your brother, Max, and casually tried to play down his worry, not wanting to raise suspicions. Max’s relaxed shrug was far from reassuring. “I haven’t seen her,” he said, and Lando’s heartbeat drummed a little faster. Why would you leave without telling either him or Max? The question buzzed in his mind, feeding his anxiety. He tried texting and calling, but each time he was met with silence, the unanswered messages adding weight to his growing dread. In between interviews, he dialed your number, his patience thinning with every call that went straight to voicemail.

When he finally returned to the hotel room that night, the relief he’d been hoping for evaporated in an instant. You were there, but instead of the embrace he’d longed for, he found you frantically stuffing clothes into your suitcase, your expression stormy, tear-streaked, and entirely closed off.

“Baby?” His voice was tentative, almost afraid, as he quietly shut the door behind him. You didn’t respond, didn’t even look up. He took a few slow steps closer, his hand reaching toward you as if touching you might make you turn to him, might ease whatever pain seemed to radiate from you in waves. “Angel, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“Save it, Lando.” Your voice cut through the room like a blade, as cold and sharp as he’d ever heard. Lando’s breath hitched, and he withdrew his hand, caught off-guard. He had never seen you like this. His fingers found your arm again, a gentle, almost desperate attempt to ground you, to ground both of you.

But the instant he touched you, you flinched away, spinning to face him with a look that made his heart feel as if it had shattered on impact. Your eyes were red-rimmed, and fresh tears shimmered there, but what undid him was the sheer intensity of your gaze. Anger, betrayal, and hurt mingling together into something he could hardly bear to look at.

“Baby—” he tried, his voice cracking as he spoke, but you cut him off, every word like a dagger.

“Don’t. Don’t you dare call me that.” Your voice wavered despite your anger, and the way it broke only mirrored the turmoil he felt. Lando’s confusion deepened, a tangle of emotions twisting inside him.

“What is going on?” he asked, voice thin with barely restrained panic. His mind raced, every possible explanation slipping out of reach, leaving only the dread settling deeper in his chest.

“I heard them, Lando. I heard them talk about us.” Your lips twisted, the disgust evident in your expression. “How crazy it is that we’ve been together for this long. How crazy it is that you actually kept up a bet,” you took a deep breath. ��That a bet has been going on for over a year.”

A surge of cold washed over him as he realized what you were saying, the pit in his stomach opening wider as he saw the pieces fall into place in your mind. His eyes squeezed shut for a split second, regret flooding his face. How could he have been so careless?

“I can explain,” he said quickly, desperate to salvage the fragile remains of the trust he felt crumbling between you two. But the scoff you gave felt like another slap. He reached for you, voice trembling with emotion, “Y/N, please—”

You took a step back, wrapping your arms around yourself as if to shield from him. Your voice broke, anger and sorrow mingling together in a heartbreaking mix. “A bet, Lando? You’re dating me because of a bet?” Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you didn’t bother to brush them away, too devastated to care about holding yourself together.

“No, no, of course not!” He took a hesitant step forward, his hands raised slightly as though approaching something fragile.

“Why?” you choked, hurt radiating from every word. “Why did you let it go on so long? You could have just, had your fun and ended it. But now, after everything we’ve shared, after I’ve—” Your voice caught, and you angrily wiped at your cheeks. “I thought we had something real. I love you, Lando. And you…“

“I love you, too,” he whispered, almost to himself. The sight of you in such pain was unbearable. He gently pushed your suitcase aside, capturing your wrists, and brought your hands to his face, his thumbs brushing away the tears spilling from your eyes. “I love you, baby. Of course I do. God I love you so-.”

“You don’t love me,” you whispered, voice hollow, the spark that once defined your every smile and laugh extinguished. “If you did, you wouldn’t have kept this going. You wouldn’t have let me fall so deeply.”

“Please, it’s not what you think,” he pleaded, voice breaking, his heart pounding in his chest as he held you, praying you’d let him explain. “It was a stupid mistake, something I never took seriously. You have to believe me.”

For a fleeting moment, he saw hesitation in your eyes, a glimmer of hope. But it vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by steely resolve. You pulled your hands away from him, and the emptiness that filled the space between you left him frozen, helpless.

“You’re cruel, Lando. Cruel. And I never want to see you again.”

The weight of your words crushed him. He was drowning in the guilt and the sorrow, unable to breathe as he watched you bend to zip your suitcase, your movements quick and determined. Desperation took over, and he dropped to his knees, his hands pressing down on the suitcase to keep it closed.

“Please, please don’t go,” he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper as the tears fell freely down his cheeks. “Just let me explain, don’t walk away without letting me explain.”

A knock at the door interrupted, and both your heads snapped toward the sound. Your brother’s voice called your name softly, and Lando’s heart sank even further. Max stepped in, his expression darkening as he took in your tear-stained face and Lando’s distressed form on the floor. Instinctively, Max wrapped a protective arm around you, pulling you behind him as if to shield you from the man who had broken your heart.

“Please,” Lando whispered, his voice hoarse, but the words felt useless, meaningless in the wake of the devastation he’d caused. He felt paralyzed as Max picked up your suitcase, his gaze hard and unyielding, offering no sympathy as he guided you toward the door.

And then you were gone, the door clicking shut with a finality that echoed through the silent room, leaving Lando alone, his world collapsing around him. He stayed on the floor, staring blankly ahead, numb with the knowledge that he had lost you.

[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.

[foxy-eva]

Sweet Dreams

Summary: You fall asleep on Spencer on the way home after a long case

Request: Tired Reader and Spencer who are just co-workers with a lot of chemistry. Reader accidentally falls asleep on Spencer while they’re on the plane after a really long case

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Category: Fluff 

Content Warning: none

Word Count: 700

Masterlist

A saccharine smile was painted over your face when you found your seat right beside Spencer on the plane. There were many seats still available but his nearness was so tempting that you couldn’t resist. 

Softly, you asked, “Mind if I sit here?” 

“No uh… Not at all,” Spencer mumbled, already overwhelmed with your proximity. 

The heat your body radiated warmed Spencer’s skin, making him yearn to feel even more of it. Ever so slightly, he leaned closer until his arm was almost touching yours. Basking in your nearness was everything he longed for, what he dreamed about at night and what kept him going through all the hardship of his job. 

Something so seemingly small as you unintentionally brushing over his hand when taking a file from him had the power to fuel his reverie about you for weeks. He wondered if you had already noticed how often he sought out your company throughout the workday. Certainly the rest of the team must have caught onto it by now. 

They were profilers after all. 

Derek sat down across from you, smirking at the man beside you when he noticed the rosy shade on his cheeks. “Shut up,” Spencer whispered before he even had a chance to say anything. 

Turning your head, you looked at him with confusion written over your face. “What?” you murmured.

“Not you,” Spencer clarified and you decided against asking more questions. 

The last case had been exhausting and you were glad you could finally relax for once. Leaning back further into your seat, you quickly noticed the harbingers of sleep approaching. Spencer watched from the corner of his eyes as you closed yours, content to finally see you at ease. 

He focussed back on the book in his hands until he felt a pleasant pressure against his arm. Already asleep, you found his side to support your body. Just a few seconds later your head dropped to his shoulder, having him freeze in his place. 

Breathing in your heavenly scent, Spencer started to feel drunk and he didn’t want to lose your nearness again. He didn’t dare to move and prompt you to wake up, so he just kept still even when his body began aching from the immobility. It didn’t matter, not when you seemed so comfortable like that. 

Your hot breath tickled Spencer’s neck, making his skin break out in goosebumps. Even if it was a silly thought, he still hoped that this moment would never end. How could he ever recover from finally feeling you pressed against his body?

“Loverboy,” Derek teased. “Don’t you wanna turn that page?” 

Spencer realized he had been staring at his book for many minutes without reading a singular sentence. He couldn’t care less. Turning his head, he dared to look at you. His heart began aching at the view of you curled up in your seat and leaning against him in an attempt to find comfort. 

Then, your body slightly jerked and you woke up, quickly realizing you were basically cuddling with Spencer. 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, your voice heavy with sleep. 

Despite your body’s objection, you attempted to sit up straight. That was when you felt Spencer’s hand grab yours. 

“Stay,” he softly spoke. “Please.” 

His words were so surprising that you were sure you must have been stuck in a dream. There was no reason to argue when he seemed so inviting and you were still so, so weary. Nodding, you leaned closer to him again once more. 

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, Spencer lifted his arm to wrap it around your shoulder so you could comfortably curl into his side, having your head rest against his chest. 

The sound of his heart beating against his ribcage could only be described as erratic but you didn’t mind. You were very familiar with the feeling of having your heart almost jump out of your chest whenever you were close to him. 

It was a comforting thought to know he felt the same way. 

Thank you for reading! Please like, reblog and leave a comment to show your support and help me stay motivated to write more stories!

Taglist: @adoredfromafar @grumpyy-bearr @frickin-bats @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @xserenax-13 @alexxavicry @samuel-de-champagne-problems @evvy96 @reidsbookclub @lover-of-books-and-tea @nomajdetective @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @castiels-majestic-wings

[sashayed]

I haven't said as much about electoral politics this year as I have in previous cycles, because I am exhausted like everyone else and have nothing new or helpful to add. That is still true, so caveat lector I guess lmao!!! Happy American Election Day Fellow Sufferers!!

I have been experiencing an internal backlash the last few years to my extremely Sorkinpilled D.C. private school upbringing -- my childhood spent as a kind of convent schoolgirl in the faith of The System Is Good If We All Participate, which of course has a uhhh let's say generously a minimal engagement with the ways in which many of us are by design shut out of participating. I don't think idealism is necessarily childish, but I think MY idealism certainly has childish qualities, an undergirding of 90s feel-goodism, of civic participation as a subtle ego stroke and of voting -- although I would never have consciously put it this way -- as a way to feel superior to people who don't vote.

Lately there has bubbled up in me a sludgy, adolescent fury at this whole stupid country that has made it very very hard to feel like I should do even the bare minimum. For these people? AMERICANS? The ones that not only want Donald Trump to be president but saw what happened the first time and were like, We love this, do it again but worse? Whatever, fuckos. "I hope you people get your dearest wish and it chews you to death slowly," I may have thought.

I have also thought: why is it so controversial to ask elected officials to stop funding a genocide? Why are we treating people who make that ask, who are watching the current administration directly fund death on a mass scale and objecting to that choice, as if they are being babies and just need to get over it? How are they supposed to get over it? Why is anybody over it?

Anyway all this means that I, a known chipper door-knocker and caller of congresspeople, have been pretty low-key this current cycle. I think that is OK. I don't want to make this a big dramatic confessional about how I didn't write enough postcards or whatever. We all get exhausted and this was my turn.

But it has also been an illuminating cycle in that it's made it clear to me how much at my big age I still want politics to make me feel good, and when they don't, I still have the urge to throw a lil tantrum about it! I can get very superior and intellectual about how right-wing operatives manipulate their voters emotionally WITHOUT EVEN NOTICING that I too have been manipulated, in my case into the feeling that nonparticipation is a kind of revolutionary act.* Just absolute "I threw it on the GROUND" logic happening inside my head. "Maybe if I don't vote I will be doing Quiet Quitting, which is uhhhhh anticapitalist." I'm not a part of your system!!!

Anyway, I am trying to have self-compassion about it, and one way for me to do that is to project my internal experience onto a theoretical reader. That would be you, my imaginary friend who clicked on this post for some reason even though you have already decided not to vote! I just want to tell you that I am more sympathetic to your point of view than I have ever been in my whole life, and I'm sorry I have historically been a glib, holier-than-thou asshole about it in ways that may actually have made you MORE resistant to civic participation.

And you're right: it doesn't make that big a difference whether I personally vote or not, or whether you do. But if there are hundreds of us, and I think there are, then each of those people individually do starts to matter.

I guess I would humbly request that you and I both pay attention to what people who need help are actually asking for. I would ask that we both notice who wins when we abdicate this single responsibility. I would remind us both that participating in the electoral process is not some kind of weird either-or with participating in decentralized community building and mutual aid, and the best people we know do both. Isn't it interesting that somehow, insidiously, without even consciously becoming aware of this belief, we have started to think that you can only do one or the other? Who is telling us that story? Who does it serve?

Anyway. I took the stupid 90 minute round trip to my polling place which was VERY hot for some reason and I stood in the stupid line and some babies waved at me and I cast my vote for Kamala Harris and I'm glad I did it in the same way I'm glad after I do the dishes or take a stupid shower. Doing work doesn't always feel like anything. I also saw a really wonderful small black and white dog that I thought was a cat on a leash. I would not have seen that dog if I hadn't gone to vote. So politics can still make you feel good!!!

*I mean all this analysis is cute and everything BUT ALSO i did switch antidepressants twice in the last year, an astonishingly grueling process that almost made me [affect the trout population]. Could these things be related? hmmmmmmm, don't understand the question, won't respond to it.

[endereies]

THOUGHT YOU WERE MINE - CS

No Nut November - Day 5

NNN Masterlist...

-➤ When Chris was finally ready for a relationship with you, it was too late

Your situation with Chris was complicated to say the least. You had been running around with his for the past few months, sneaking off during parties and events. You loved the risk between getting caught with someone who was only meant to be your best friend. But it never stayed that way.

At first you sought out Chris’ attention in the midst of a drunken decision, yet as time went on, you found yourself seeking his frame in the crowd as soon as you arrived. It was stupid, you were aware of that. Chris never did commitment, that he made clear. Countless conversations spiralled around the idea if you two and what you both wanted.

You had thought you could escape the pain of falling for someone you couldn’t have. As soon as your heart clenched when he complimented you, you knew it was over. That feeling only grew and even if in the moment you felt like the only girl he’d ever look at, it was a lie. It didn’t help that when you snuck off with him, it wasn’t always for sex. Occasionally you’d find his hand tangled in yours while the concrete steps lay below you. Sounds of the party called the pair of you back. You always ignored it.

He'd steal the odd kiss from you, in front of people and never batted an eye. The two of you would be dragged into the stage by the other to your favourite songs and you never care how you looked when you were with him.

Those moments made him question how he felt about you, seeing your vibrant smile as you danced with your friends. Or the way you’d laugh without a care in the world. Little did you know he was falling too. He hated it.

Chris was open about his commitment issues to you. He wasn’t someone who was immediately happy getting into a relationship, the whole idea intimidated him. Having a label felt too immediate for him, and after being hurt in a previous relationship it was easy to see why. The fact he was falling for you was already enough to throw him off course, he just couldn’t turn away.

The way you both felt wasn’t subtle. Your friends always giggled when they noticed the smudged makeup that was lining your lips. No matter how many times you v denied the accusations of you two dating, the butterflies in your stomach became obvious.

That was until you confronted Chris about everything.

“Hey Chris...? Vulnerability filled you as soon as the words left your mouth. Quick glances around the room failed to aid you in finding anything else to converse about. His hand stilled from your hip, the touch burning your skin. “Mm? What’s up?”

You hadn’t even said anything to him, and you already felt sick in your stomach. Is this how every confession goes? “Can we talk…about us?”

“What about us Y/n?” You could tell he was getting concerned, yet not out of fear, but the fact he’d have to repeat himself again.

“I don’t want this anymore…like, I don’t know. I guess I don’t want to act like this is all casual anymore.” His touch on your hip no longer burned as it withdrew completely.

“I’ve told you, I’m not into that shit Y/n. We agreed on that, you knew. I’m not meant to be in a relationship, especially with you. That shit would hurt the both of us. We talked about this, end of.”

Tears brimmed at your eyes, and you felt so childish. He was right. You had discussed this more than once, the rules were clear. Weren’t rules meant to be broken. You couldn’t believe that you could be so stupid, the false hope from your friends fed into things that shouldn’t have been touched.

“Right…Well maybe I should go.” He didn’t protest, or even acknowledge you leave. Asking you to stay felt like too much to him, even if every cell argued with him.

The door shutting felt too real. You had actually left, this wasn’t a prank? Chris’s gaze was held on the door, praying you’d push it open and walk back through. You never did.

You quietly left through the front door and walked away from the porch, both your hands in your pockets. You were thankful for the dark sky, that way no one could see your tears. It was too quick, to reactive. It felt scripted hearing those words from him. ‘I’m not meant to be in a relationship, especially with you’

With you…

Maybe if you were someone else, he’d be more willing to hold your hand and call you his. He would always step in and call you ‘his girl’ when any other guy got a little to close to him. For once you wished it wasn’t a ploy. Chris never played you, never treated you badly, never gave you a reason to walk away. Maybe that’s why it hurt so much, he was too perfect.

Steady weeks went by with no contact from you. You never came over to his place anymore, invitations to parties remained unread. He didn’t care, he shouldn’t. What was this weird feeling in his chest.

It hurt seeing you so close and yet so far. Your contact was there, staring him in the face. Your face beaming in the profile picture wasn’t helping him. Chris felt out of place now. Without you by his side he had no one to kiss, no one to hold. He had no one to rant about his day to, no one to console when things got bad. His friends weren’t the same, he needed you. As much as he hated to admit it, all his thoughts revolved around you more than ever. Whenever he used to think about you, his heart clenched with resolute admiration towards you, now it felt sour. It was like a deep breathe wasn’t deep enough, distractions weren’t fulfilling enough.

He hated the feeling of falling for you, but the feeling of losing you was a nauseating sensation he wanted to scratch off his skin.

Not even alcohol could wipe the stain of you, nothing was working. He waited too long and fell comfortable to the casualness of your relationship. He was willing, willing to work through any fears if it meant getting you back.

Before he knew it, his front door was locked, and footsteps disappeared into the night. Stars began to light the sky above him. He found himself wondering if you were looking at them too, like you used to. The walk was only 15 minutes away but each second felt too long. he had waited too long. Now he hurt someone he cared about for his own selfishness.

When Chris turned the corner, his body stilled, and his stomach dropped to his feet. An unfamiliar car was parked outside your house, tilted against the concrete. Your hand placed gently into another’s as they pulled you from the car. You inched closer towards them, yet Chris remained frozen. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. Who was he, why was he here, with you.

The voices were too meek for Chris to make out, yet the message was clear. It was evident when the distance between you two close, his lips softly touching yours.

Only then could Chris turn his eyes away, he felt betrayed without reason. Chris wasn’t ready and when he finally was, he pushed you away enough to move on.

Yet, he loved you first.

@melliflws @yuhayeee @st7rnioioss @sturn-bugz @bueckerrss @worldlxvlys @raysmayhem-72 @patscorner @y0urm4m @bernardsbendystraws @junnniiieee07 @luverboychris @jnkvivi @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @shorthairchris @colorthecosmos444 @anabethinking @zay-sturns @anyaa2s @emilyfaith2003 @jassturn @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @sturniolosiphone @ribread03

© ENDEREIES 2024

[daisymbin]

promise me ice cream! - jeon wonwoo

warnings: slightly insecure wonwoo?

pairings: jeon wonwoo x reader

genre: drunk confessions, friends to ???

wc: 1.3k

a/n: I'm not quite sure what I did to deserve 223 of yall following me but thank you 🥺

drunken confessions series

check out my masterlist!

your best friend, wonwoo is sprawled on the bed, looking more like a puddle of drunk affection than his usual composed self. he's clinging onto you, he wedges your leg in between his own; hugging it like it was a bolster as his head rests on your lap as if it were a pillow, his arms wrapped around your leg, not wanting to let go as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. his gaze is hazy, eyes blinking slowly as he stares up at you, his lips curving into a drunken smile, “you're so pretty.” he says as you chuckle while you run your hands through his hair; messaging his head a little to relieve the potential headache.

“why'd you drink so much tonight?” you asked, “its not like you, you're not usually like this.” wonwoo lets out a deep sigh at your question, “you were talking to jun all night and…i dont know, i just didn't like it. i got jealous. it's like…you’ll never pick me.” he says with a pout, eyes closing shut. “jealous? of jun?” you frown, trying to make sense of his words. if only he knew, “don't be silly, you know i talk to jun all the time but you'll always be my best friend. there's nothing to be jealous about.” you reassured. “& i’ll always pick you.”

“you're breaking my heart.” wonwoo mumbles so soft, you almost would have missed it if it weren't for a drunk wonwoo clinging onto you for dear life, heightening all your senses & leaving your heart beating so fast. “what do you mean, wonwoo?” 

"you’re my favorite person," he says, his voice soft and slow, like he’s trying to convince himself of something. "i don’t know if i’ll ever be your favorite, but... you're my favorite." his hand gently strokes the inside of your thigh, sending shiver down your spine. his fingers light against your skin as if he’s trying to memorize the feeling of being this close.

you smile as you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach. you’re a little amused yet also, a little taken aback by the way he’s acting; he's never been like this. you gently run your fingers through his hair, trying to coax him to sleep even though you're sure he’s already half asleep. & maybe you're also just taking advantage of the situation and being a little selfish; having him like this.

"i’m just me," he continues, voice drowsy and laced with alcohol. "i’m just wonwoo, you know? just regular, plain ol' wonwoo. but you're... you're perfect. sparkly. i don’t even know why you ever looked my way years ago, let alone be friends with me.”

you laugh softly, but it’s mixed with a hint of sadness, wondering how he could ever think that about himself. "you’re not just wonwoo, you know that, right? you’re more than that."

wonwoo shakes his head, but his grip on your leg tightens. "no, no, no. i’m just me. i’m just wonwoo, and you’re... you’re so pretty and you're so kind. you're such a good person...so much better than I'll ever be. that's why you would never like someone like me."

his words sting more than they should, but you can tell he's too drunk to mean them fully, right? that's what you hoped for at least. you want to tell him how wrong he is, how much you care for him, but instead, you sit in the quiet, letting him speak his mind as he clings onto you, his drunken ramblings the only thing filling the space between you two.

after a moment, he sits up a little, his gaze suddenly lighting up with a burst of energy. "ice cream," he says, as if it’s the most important thing in the world right now. "we should go on an ice cream date. right now. let’s go."

you glance at him, blinking in surprise at the sudden contrast. it’s already past 4AM and he’s drunk, this is not the time for an ice cream run date. "wonwoo," you say softly, trying to get him to focus. "it’s really late. we’re not going for ice cream right now, okay?"

he looks up at you with wide, sad, hopeful eyes, and you can’t help but find it endearing, even if it’s a little ridiculous. "why not?" he asks, his pout deepening, and his grip on your leg tightening again as he drags himself impossibly closer to you. "i want to go on an ice cream date with you, please?” 

you laugh, though it's full of affection and fondness. "wonwoo, you’re drunk & it’s really late. we’re not going anywhere. you can’t go out for ice cream right now, I don't think you can even walk straight, did you forget how I had to haul you back here?"

he pouts even harder, his lower lip trembling slightly & he almost look as if he’s about to start crying any time as he sits back and crosses his arms, looking like a grumpy child. "but i want ice cream. now. i’m hungry."

you can’t help but smile at his stubbornness. "we’ll go tomorrow, okay?" you promise. "i’ll take you out on an ice cream date tomorrow. I'll even let you pick all the flavours you want, even if its 5 of them."

wonwoo tilts his head to the side, staring at you with a suspicious frown. "tomorrow? don’t lie…i’m only asking you now because… this is a dream, you wouldnt reject me in my dream, would you?" he asks, his voice filled with doubt. "because i know you won’t really take me for ice cream tomorrow when I wake up. you don’t like me like that. you’re just humoring me."

"wonwoo, i promise, tomorrow, we’ll get ice cream," you reassure him, your voice gentle and warm as you stroke his hair again, trying to comfort him.

but wonwoo still looks disappointed and doubtful, his shoulders slump. "tomorrow will never come. this is all a dream. you’ll wake up, and i’ll be... i’ll be just me. plain wonwoo. i won’t be good enough for you. you will never pick me.”

your heart aches at the way he’s talking. he doesn’t believe that you like him, doesn’t believe in this moment, in the promise of tomorrow. "wonwoo, i’m not going anywhere," you say, taking his hand in yours. "i'll be right here when you open your eyes when the sun rises & i'll tell you all the reasons why you're more than enough. i really do like you, I love you, and tomorrow, we’ll get ice cream. i promise."

he looks down at your hand, still not fully convinced. "promise?" he asks, his voice small and fragile.

"promise," you say firmly, hands finding his as you lock your pinky around his.

wonwoo hesitates for a moment, then sighs, his expression softening. "okay...okay," he murmurs, closing his eyes as he rests his head back on your lap, your hands instinctively go back to playing with his hair, he's completely content now. "ice cream date tomorrow. i’ll wait for tomorrow...even if it doesn't happen it's okay..at least im laying on your lap now…at least you’re playing with my hair now…at least now i know what it's like to hear you say you like me too.”

you smile, brushing a strand of hair out of his face, watching him drift off to sleep in your lap. even though he’s drunk and unsure, you know he believes you somewhere deep down. & tomorrow, you’ll take him for ice cream, just like you promised. and maybe, just maybe, tomorrow, he’ll realize how much you really do care about him, & how much you really do love him.

[thewitchblue]

You were a ray of sunshine in the Batfamily's life. You loved the children and Bruce with your entire heart, and everyone took notice. You loved each of the family members differently but equally intensely. No kid ever felt unloved by you.

You softly hum as you trace Damian's face. He always struggled to sleep. He struggled to relax enough even with sleep medication aiding him most nights. Until you start humming softly and draw patterns on his face lightly. His entire body physically relaxes as his eyes flutter shut, his breathing evening out after a minute. His face subconsciously leans into your soothing touch.

With a tender smile on your face and a gentle forehead kiss, you moved onto the next Batboy who struggles with sleep: Dick. You knock your secret knock with a smile on your face. You had a soft spot for Dick the second the kid lost his parents. How could you possibly not when his small body shook so badly in your arms? He had the same tormented look Bruce used to have before your loving family formed.

You hear a soft but excited "come in" from Dick, who seemed to have still been getting ready for bed. He loved it when you told him stories above all else. You told him thousands of your stories, but he was always excited to listen to you talk about the moment you adopted him. You'd tell him about how much you loved him as you reminisced on the first time he called you mom. How your heart had never been so full of love and adoration for your kid. He wasn't an easy kid, but you loved him deeply, and you reminded him constantly.

Dick gives you a warm smile as you set down his nighttime tea: always chamomile with lemon and sugar cubes on the side. It had to be sugar cubes, as the packets tasted weird to him.

"What story do you want tonight, sweetheart?"

He surprised you, honestly, when he asked to hear about how you met Bruce. You chuckle softly.

"It was a rainy Thursday night. We both became vigilantes the same day and met during our nightly adventures. We looked at each other for a long time before we heard police sirens and ran towards it. I must have saved his life hundreds of times that night. We have been close together ever since."

Dick cuddles into his bed and looks at you with wide eyes. He was always excited to hear this story. With a look of adoration, he murmurs,

"And you give us a hard time about our recklessness."

You roll your eyes but can't fight the fond smile off your face. You gently play with Dick's hair, continuing your tale,

"I'm not the one charging into burning buildings nightly without superpowers, darling.

Dick and Bruce adored your moral compass more than anything. You always did what was right no matter how hard it was to do. You saved thousands of lives throughout the time you were a vigilante with Bruce. He called you rash every night because of the way you handled being a superhero, but you see the endangered people and never hesitate. You are immune to damage of all types, so it was easy to run into the thick of danger to save everybody from a burning building or from the Joker's psychopathic game. Joker was angry when he found out you couldn't get hurt. You don't even feel pain because of your powers. You weren't a fun target to him, so he gave up.

"I wish I could've met younger you. I love seeing my mom being a casual badass."

You laugh softly, giving him a cheek kiss as a goodnight. Batboy number 3 was Jason. Jason took after your personality more than the rest and defends you even when it's just reporters talking bad about you. You taught him how to love and accept being loved, despite everything. You taught him to look for the best in everyone because their stories often run deeper than the surface.

You can hear his excited steps as he lets you in. He held up the newest book he wanted to share with you. You read to him every night, as he finds your voice soothes him.

He drags you to his bedside and climbs into his bed. You kissed his forehead before starting to read the book. He knows he could listen to Audiobooks, but he found it was you that soothed him. He found the narrators of Audiobooks often annoying or dramatic, but you read the exact way he wants you to and at the perfect speed.

He was soon drifting off as well, your hand holding his and squeezing morse code messages into his hand. You kissed the tip of his nose gently before moving on.

By the time you were done with all the children, Bruce was back. You grabbed the first aid kid you keep in your shared room. Bruce must've had an easier night because his injuries weren't nearly as life-threatening as usual.

He hissed through his teeth as you cleaned his wounds, but you murmured reassuring words and held his hand with your free hand.

"Just a few more, baby. You're doing so good, my hero."

He squeezed your hand when you were done. His exhausted smile was still so full of love for you.

"We're so lucky to have you in our lives."

He kissed your cheek gently. He loved you deeply, even when it was hard for him to express it. Love truthfully scared him ever since his parents' deaths, but you were the ray of sunshine in his darkest of nights.

"I'm lucky to have my little army of heroes. I love you and the kids."

He gave a tired hum of acknowledgement.

"We all love you too."

Alfred, appearing as silently as ever at the doorway of the bedroom, said,

"Master Wayne, if you don't marry her, I will."

You laugh at Bruce's shocked expression. He whipped around to face Alfred, who was staring at him with a look that was so serious you couldn't help but smirk at. While you'd love to marry Bruce, you knew it wasn't that simple for him. He struggles with the idea of having a loving wife waiting for him. He doesn't feel like he deserves it at the moment, and you respect that. You will continue to be the mother of his children and the warm presence in his life. You voice your thoughts,

"Alfred, I don't need to marry Bruce to be part of the family."

Alfred raised an eyebrow at Bruce, but Bruce was in another place.

"That much is clear, but I still want you officially part of the family. You're the glue holding everyone together."

You smile at the duo. Family is so much deeper than blood, and you continue to prove it to the Bat family every day. You ruffle Bruce's hair gently.

"I'd never say no to my boys."

Bruce took Alfred's advice on your anniversary. He proposed in front of the entire family, which inevitably ended in a dog pile of hugs from all your boys and a sweet kiss from Bruce.

Bruce, your private and loving fiancée, confirmed the engagement to the world the next day, holding up your hand and giving it a gentle kiss. He held your engagement hand everywhere he went, the rest of the Bat family fighting to hold your other hand, eventually scheduling who holds your other hand in an endless cycle.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who gets so flustered by you before you start dating. Even just the little things, like you bringing him coffee of breakfast on your way in to work has him thinking about you. He didn't even have to ask.

"You really didn't need to bring me anything. Tell me how much I owe you and I'll add it to your next check."

He stops you with the slight raising of his hand before you even have the chance to protest.

"I mean it. I have more than enough money to spare."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who almost feels perverted when he asks you out for coffee before work. But the way your eyes light up aa you nod makes him forget all about it and instead focus on just how interesting your personality is.

"There's uh... There's this café I stop at in the mornings before I come in to work. You should stop by some time. My treat."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who gets hounded by the press as soon as they find out about your relationship. But as much as they call him 'old' and 'creepy,' you know that they don't understand. Besides, there isn't that much of an age gap between the two of you, anyway.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who makes you realize just how shitty other guys had treated you in the past. He was utterly shocked when you tried to pull out your wallet to oay on your first official date.

"You seriously think I'm letting you pay?" He asked after his initial moment of shock. "Darling-" he take one of your hands in his across the dinner table and presses a feather-light kiss to it. "You never have to pay when you're with me."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is slowly gaining a dadbod, and it's the sexiest thing you've ever seen. Of course, he's still in peak physical condition, but his age is slowly catching up to him as he reaches his mid-fifties: the sparsely scattered greys in his hair and stubble are just further proof of that.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who hasn't lost his game in the bedroom and makes you feel things other men couldn't even imagine. He just keeps pulling orgasm after orgasm out of you and hasn't even thought about relieving himself.

"Just one more on my fingers, beautiful girl..." He whispers as his thumb rubs worshiping, languid circles onto your clit. "You can do that for me, can't you?"

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who takes things so much slower than he did in his younger years. He didn't just fuck or have sex, he made love to you, and god, did he do it well.

"I love you." He whispers for what feels like the hundredth time with his face buried into your neck and shoulder, eyes screwed shut in utter ecstasy. His thrusts are slow and rhythmatic, lacking the frenzied rush many of his past lovers experienced in turn for the utter adoration and care he felt for you.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who loves you with everything he is and will do anything in his power to keep the darker parts of his life hidden away, even if it means lying to you.

[snzunii]

you and satoru are probably the most unusual two people to be ever seen together in your friend group. why even is that? for one, you hate his guts—not hate, per se. you just can't fathom how he’s always bragging about the new “girl” of the week.

it’s like being a playboy is something that he should be proud of. and it ticks you off, it just irks you how he’s got that million dollar grin on his face every fucking time. and certainly, satoru doesn't miss the way you roll your eyes, that's why he’s annoyed too.

yeah, he doesn't want commitments. he doesn't like being tied to just one girl and it’s none of your fucking business. so why do you make snarky comments at him every now and then? he fucking hates it.

why can't you just shut up and be all “lovey dovey” with your asshole boyfriend, who’s clearly cheating on you? but no, he doesn't make any comments about that, not when you told him that he doesn't get a say, because what did you say? ah, he’s just an asshole who doesn’t know about relationships because he’s never been in a real one.

yeah, but all is good. you don't hate each other. you two just like to “poke fun” with each other, no offense, right?

he doesn't hate you, he just doesn't like hanging alone with you.

but why did he offer his company when you sent a text on the group chat and no one was available? this was unusual.

he guess, he just sensed that you really needed someone that night and no one was available. shoko and utahime were supposed to be on your doorstep, because they were your best friends, not him.

“what are you doing here?” he doesn't miss the way you emphasized the word ‘you’ to him. he was tempted to leave because he just couldn't take how you look at him with that frown. was his company that bad?

do you not like him that much?

“shut up,” he replies, and lifts the plastic bag full of all kinds of liquor that he was holding “i know you need someone. spill.”

but then again, you're in the same circle. he’s still your friend. maybe you can overlook the things that you hate about him for now. so, you’re both sitting on your living room floor, having a one-on-one drinking session with him.

“ryomen’s cheating on me.”

he wanted to say, i told you so but he never did, instead, he handed you the liquor and just listened to you cry. sometimes, you forget that he’s a decent friend. that he could be that person, if he wanted to.

but then he says something silly—and maybe, you both were drunk enough not to deem it as silly. maybe it was a good idea, not.

“get back at him.”

you giggled, your cheeks probably flushed, “how?”

you don't know how you get back at your cheater ex-boyfriend by straddling satoru, pushing your tongue inside his mouth and grinding on his lap.

but, damn, this is really a good way to get back at your ex.

buuuut! would you still think it’s a good idea when you wake up in the morning with satoru's arm draped over your waist with nothing but this thin blanket covering your bodies?

well? that’s a question you don't know the answer to.

[the-palelady]

I love that u gave crime wife!reader a butterfly obsession like deep down she’s secretly super nerdy but her shitty husband doesn’t let her indulge in those things anymore.

Personally feel like Ghost would swoon at seeing her get all excited over seeing a certain butterfly or moth, especially ones she rarely gets to see.

I hope u write more of them in the future!!!

not but seriously he would fall to his knees seeing a woman like her, someone kept hidden from the outside world, get this sparkle in her eyes when she sees something she adores.

ghost, much like his name, ceases to exist when your husband is home. at first, you thought maybe him being there at all was just a figment of your imagination; your mind conjuring up some fake entity so you'd feel less lonely in the prison you were supposed to call your home.

as it turns out though, ghost was not a hallucination. in fact, he was a very real man who came around more and more as time went on. he knew your husbands routine, knew when he would leave the house for extended periods of time, and that's when he would make his appearance.

in the beginning, you never spoke, and ghost never pushed you to. you had grown accustomed to the silence between you and your husband, only ever speaking if he was scolding you or flatly informing you that'd he'd be gone for a few days.

ghost simply watched you water your flowers, sitting beside you on the plaid grey and white blanket you always brought out to sit on while you read. he spoke here and there, asking questions about the flowers you grew, what it was you were reading, or what you ate for dinner the previous night. admittedly, you found his awkwardness…reassuring?

it was like talking to others was unfamiliar territory for him as well.

you felt bad that you gave him little to work with. he was coming from a good place after all, keeping you company all through the afternoon and even late into the evenings while your husband was away. the least you could do was meet him in the middle.

but the more you thought about it the more you doubted yourself. you hadn’t talked to anyone besides your husband in so long. what if you sounded stupid? what if your topic of conversation was dull to ghost? you had been your husband’s little secret for so long, shut off from society, that you didn’t know much about current events, what was popular, what would be interesting. so you kept yourself shut out, continuing to only meet his questions with simple nods and shakes of your head.

until one warm summer afternoon when you sat on a gardening chair, looking over a gardening magazine that you’d read god only knows how many times.

ghost was situated in front of you, eyeing the magazine as well, not exactly interested but you supposed he was looking for something, anything to say. that was his usual way of driving the conversation and you didn’t mind it.

you flipped the page and he noticed a flower that looked awfully similar to a bed of flowers you had planted near the back door, to which he pointed at the page, and looked up at you.

“this where ya got the idea ta plant those?” he asked, gesturing with a nod of his head towards the pastel pink dahlia’s growing in the flower bed near the house. he looked over at the flowers, admiring the color of the petals and how well you had taken care of them until he noted how silent you had been. when he looked up, your eyes were practically bulging from your head, locked on something behind his shoulder.

however, when he made an attempt to turn around, your hands darted forward, keeping him in place before you placed your index finger over your lips, indicating for him to stay quiet.

ghost was beyond confused. even more so when you stood, shaking in your shoes as you tip toed to a large bush behind him.

“i can’t believe it…” a chill shot down his spine at the soft sound of your voice, a light rainfall trickling down during the spring.

he turned in his seat, being quiet like you had asked when his hooded whiskey eyes landed on you, hunched over, gazing at a butterfly that slowly flapped its wings together while it lay stationary on a leaf.

“wha’ is it?” he whispered back, and instead of answering with words, you beckoned him over. he didn’t hesitate to follow your command, a moth to a flame.

leaning forward, he consumed every last word you uttered to him, your voice music to his ears, a song he wanted to put on repeat.

“a purple emperor. i’ve never seen one before. they normally keep to the treetops in the woods. this one is probably a male, resting after his lunch.”

ghost felt his heart lurch forward at the sound of the giggle that left you, breathy and quiet, barely there, but there all the same.

“we should leave him be. i just couldn’t believe i got to see one. the purple on his wings was just too pretty to not want to get closer.”

when you turned to look at ghost, it took everything in him to keep himself from saying, “you’re too pretty.”

[logoleptic-since-06]

Love Thorns All Over This Rose

✮ Pairing: Satoru x Fem!Reader

✮ Content: Fem!Reader, Non-Sorcerer AU, College Setting, Mentions of Family and Financial Issues, Mentions of Other JJK Characters, Language, Smut (Fingering, Cunillingus), Slight Angst, Fluff, Dislike to Love, Mentions of Smoking, Slowburn, Not Proofread

Based On This Concept I Made

✮ A/N: I know I said I will not be writing fics for the concepts I made, but I love this trope too much to not have written it.

★ ♫ ★ ♫ ★ ♫ ★ ♫ -> Some songs this was inspired by (I know I listen to white girl music, what about it?) ✮ Also heavily inspired by the book The Deal by Elle Kennedy.

✮ Word Count: 4.6k

MDNI

“This was your last chance, Gojo, I’m gonna have to revoke your captaincy.”

“Please, coach,” Satoru’s usual cocky tone was replaced with desperation, “One more chance, please. My econ test scores came out today, and I’m confident I did well. Just consider this for once.”

Coach Yaga pauses for a second, “Listen, kid, I will consider it for now, but it’s really not on me. College rules say athletes can’t have more than three F’s. And according to that, I should bench you till you get your grades up.”

His eyes widen. “What? No, you can’t bench me, I’m your best player!”

“You know it doesn’t matter.”

“Fuck…” he murmurs in frustration. His econ test, that he has already given, is his last straw. If he fucks this one up, he will be benched until he gets his grades up. Basketball tournament season is right around the corner, and being in his senior year of college means his professional recruitments will start this season. Being benched is far from an option he wants to go for.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

He fails.

He fucking fails the test that he was so sure he’d pass.

“And then he benched me,” he groans as he finishes telling the story to his friend group/housemates/teammates. He looks at Suguru, his oldest and closest friend, “Oh, and he made you the captain for the time being, by the way.”

Suguru simply shrugs. “Then get your grades up and re-secure your spot. I won’t even be going pro, you need this.”

"We are all rooting for you, Gojo," Haibara's over-enthusiastic voice speaks. Haibara and Nanami are in their junior year, and Haibara is probably Satoru and Suguru's biggest hype-man, despite playing in the same team.

“I’ve tried, you know I have. I don’t know what else to-”  Satoru stops as an idea strikes his head. He tilts his head towards Nanami, “Hey, Nanami.” “No,” he says simply.

“I didn’t even-”

“Whatever you ask, no.” “Tutor me, you’re like the only smart person I know.” “I’m your junior.”

“We have the same course, we study the same thing in the same class.”

“Fuck, you’re such a manchild,” Shoko’s bored voice speaks as she takes a puff from her cigarette.

“Don’t smoke in our house,” Satoru scolds her, causing her to flip him off.

“Although,” Shoko sits up from laying against the couch, “I might have someone that can help you. My roommate.”

Shoko doesn’t live with the others, but Satoru has never heard of her roommate before. “Your roommate, huh?” he repeats lazily.

Nanami snorts, “Y/N? She’s in my year and I doubt she’ll ever help him.”

Shoko nods, “You can try if you’re desperate enough.” She takes another puff of her cigarette. “Offer her tons of money.”

Satoru thinks for a second, “She can be convinced using money? That’s perfect, I have money.” 

Everyone except Haibara rolls their eyes.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

Having finished your last assignment of the day, you relax back against your chair, taking in the hushed ambience of the library. It was a stressful, but productive day. You only relax for a split second before a wave of anxiety gushes over you– you’ve recently lost your job at the local barista due to it being shut down. It was the only place close to the campus you can get a job at, and there is no way you could afford a living on campus without a job.

You decide to get up and head to your dorm room instead of musing upon your issues. As you begin to pack your things into your tote bag, you see a tall, white-haired figure sit across from you at the table with a bright smile on his face that shows off his dimples. 

Satoru Gojo?

The star athlete is Shoko’s childhood best friend. Ever since she became your roommate in your freshman year as a sophomore, you’ve only heard tales of him and Suguru Geto. You’ve seen them around the campus, of course, but you’ve always chosen peace over any interaction with them. People flock around them like a group of fans rushing over to buy tickets for a sold-out concert. Arrogance seeps out of him every time he walks through a door, making every head turn towards him.

“Hi,” he says, looking straight into you. You look behind you, trying to see if he is talking to someone else. “No, I’m talking to you. Y/N, right?”

The sound of your name in his voice sounds weird. How did he know who you were? 

He continues, “I am–”

“I know who you are.” You cut him off for a reason that is unknown to even yourself. He tilts his head in confusion, but you can tell it's not from the knowledge of you knowing his name but rather from the fact that you are wearing an annoyed expression on your face right now. You almost feel bad but it's not like you can help it, you just lost your job and it is not easy for a girl from a middle class family to survive in this environment filled with some of the richest brats in the city, Satoru Gojo included.

“I need your help.” Every word that comes out of his mouth sounds so foreign, you wouldn’t have imagined them in your wildest dreams.

“My help?” Why is he talking to you?

“I need you to tutor me.”

“I’m sorry?”

“We are in the same classes together. I need someone to tutor me because I’m failing my classes and if I’m benched and won’t be able to play until I pass them. And if I don’t play this season, I won’t be recruited to go pro, so basically my entire future is in your hands.”

Your disturbed grimace is probably a little too noticeable, because the next words that come out of his mouth are, “Why are you making that face?” He says it with such innocent confusion, you almost give in.

“I don’t even know you,” you finally say, your voice sounds bored.

“But you are the best I can find.”

“Why can’t you hire a professional tutor?”

“Because then my parents will know, and they can’t know.”

“That’s not my problem.” “God, you’re insufferable,” he exasperates, “I’ll pay. A lot.”

That gets your attention. You raise an eyebrow. “How much?”

He sits up and excitedly takes a piece of paper and pen, writes down an amount, and slides the paper towards you.

One look at the paper and your eyes go wide. He wrote an hourly rate and as you do the quick math in your head, you realize this would pay twice the amount you got as a barista.

You clear your throat before speaking. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he says firmly.

“And you will cooperate?”

“Of course, I need this, Y/N.” Will you ever get used to your name on his tongue?

“When and where?”

“Five days a week, so all working days. My house? It’s off campus. Give me your number, I’ll send you the location.” “I know where you live, I’ve dropped Shoko off to yours before. And yeah it works.”

“Great! Thanks so much, Y/N; you’re a lifesaver.” In the blink of an eye, he gets up and leaves you stranded at the library table.

Lifesaver… The word echoes through your head. You’ve been called that so many times, it doesn’t even mean anything anymore. You’ve been a lifesaver to your classmates for sharing your homework with them, or giving them answers during a test; you’ve been a lifesaver to your parents when you volunteered to look after your younger siblings, or when took care of dinner; you’ve been a lifesaver to your siblings for helping them study, or for solving any problem they’ve had. 

Even now, as you study in an elite university where the annual tuition is more than what your family earns in a year, you push yourself to work hard and maintain a scholarship, and work two jobs while simultaneously being a full-time student– just so you don’t have rely on someone else for anything, even if they’re your parents.

At least Satoru Gojo is willing to pay you a good amount for being a so-called ‘lifesaver’. Sure, there was a time when you thought money couldn’t buy you happiness, but spending so much time amongst your classmates made you realize it’s quite the opposite. Money brings you respect and recognition, and one day, you will have both of them, you are sure of it. For now, you are at peace with the fact that you are nothing but a phantom made up of invisible smoke, haunting the hallways until someone needs her.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The next day, you find yourself on the doorstep of your new student’s house. You shake off your unwanted anxiety and ring the doorbell. A few moments later, the door opens, revealing a tall figure with long luscious dark hair.

Suguru Geto, certified asshole number two (one is Gojo, of course). He looks down at you with a slight smirk. Seriously, what’s so funny? He motions you to come in.

“Satoru’s upstairs in his bedroom,” he drawls.

“Can you call him?”

He pauses for a second before answering, “Sure thing.” His gaze doesn’t avert from you as he calls out his name. Why is he so ominous? Why is Shoko friends with them?

Gojo comes out of his bedroom and stands by the stairway as he calls you up enthusiastically. You head upstairs and he leads you to his lavish bedroom and closes the door behind the two of you.

“So,” he says as he plops down on his bed, “Where do we start?”

“Let’s go through your assignments first.”

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

After an hour of tutoring, Satoru is officially done with his first tutoring session. He thinks you are a little odd with your bored yet annoyed expressions, yet he can’t stop but think you’re cute. He clearly gets the vibe that you aren’t the biggest fan of his as whenever he asked you a question about anything other than studies in the past hour, you had simply glared at him. It is also clear that you have no interest in his basketball games whatsoever.

It is also clear that you have no interest in his basketball games whatsoever. Since every question that he asks you about basketball is also either met with a glare or a “Finish this first, then we’ll talk.”

Your annoyance doesn’t matter to Satoru– if anything, he’s loving the fact that he’s getting on your nerves. It isn’t just you– annoying people has always been his specialty. Despite being the captain and the strongest player, his cheery demeanor is always met with eye rolls or groans of displeasure. 

Sure, girls around him would die to be with him– even for a moment– but if it’s not for sleeping around, he isn’t quite ever wanted. He tells himself he is okay with it, that if they don’t want him, he will turn himself into someone they need. Which is exactly what he did; and now, without him, the team will fall apart.

Once the tutoring session is over, he hits you with a similar question, a cheeky grin plastered on his beautiful face. “So, you ever been to any of our games?”

“No,” you answer simply.

“Why not?”

“I’m not interested in sports.”

“None at all?”

“None at all.”

“What ECAs did you have in highschool?” You look up at him. “I had plenty. Why do you wanna know?”

He shrugs. “Curiosity.” You sigh. “I was in the debate club, I worked for the school magazine, hosted multiple events, wrote articles, did internships, signed up for a bunch of award programs.”

Satoru’s eyes go wide. “And your SATs?”

“1560.”

Fuck. Satoru back in highschool was even bigger of a menace than he is now. With an SAT score of 1230 and basketball as the only ECA, it almost seems unfair to him now that both you and him are in the same university– one earned while the other given. Satoru never feels bad for exploiting his family’s money, after all, that’s the only thing they are willing to give him. But seeing someone work this hard– even harder than Nanami– to get to where they are is something Satoru can’t help but be impressed by.

And Satoru isn’t one to be impressed easily.

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

A few weeks pass in a breeze and the air now carries the hint of winter, the first fall of snow just around the corner. Students are locked inside their rooms, their heads buried in textbooks trying to prepare for the upcoming exams.

“You better pass this one, Gojo,” you tell him one day as you both are sitting in his room.

“Yes, ma’am.” He makes a salute gesture, causing you to stifle a small smile.

“I don’t wanna be that person, but why don’t you smile much?” His question takes you aback. “I’m not saying you should smile more; do whatever you want. I’m just asking why.”

You shrug simply, the guards you have around you have weakened a little in the past few weeks, but they’re not completely shattered. “I don’t smile without a reason.”

“I crack jokes.”

“You’re not funny.”

He rolls his eyes with a slight smirk tugging up his mouth.

You check the time and your eyes widen. “How long have I been here for?”

He leans back against his chair, “Almost three hours.”

“Shit, I was gonna call Shoko to come pick me up.”

He laughs when he hears that. “Yeah, good luck with that. It’s exam season, she definitely has her phone turned off right now.” Catching the worried expression on your face, he adds, “Do you want me to drop you off?”

You think for a while, trying to figure out other possibilities. Once you fail to do so, you feel your guards cracking a little more as you answer, “Okay.”

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

The drive from his house to your campus dorm is a short one. Yet, something in you makes you want to stir up a conversation.

“So what made you start playing basketball?”

His eyes don’t drift from the road when he answers. “You know my dad, right? He was a professional basketball player. It’s all I’ve known ever since I can remember.”

You won’t admit it out loud, but you are impressed to see him be so passionate about something. “So, you’re close to your dad?”

The chuckle he lets out sounds almost bitter. “No, no, I’m not. I was sent to a boarding school when I was very young. Grew up there. Met Suguru and Shoko. Been home very less. My school’s coach was more of a father figure than my own dad ever was.”

Something pangs in your chest as you let his words sink in. “I’m sorry…”

“Nah, don’t be. It’s cool, you know? My parents were too busy with their own lives, I was busy with mine– it’s just what I’m used to.”

“So you don’t contact them?”

“When I need something, sure.” He pauses for a second. “I know what you think of me, okay?” His voice has a hint of sincerity now. “You think of me as some spoiled brat who loves to spend daddy’s money. And you know what? You’re absolutely right. I am that, shamelessly. But this is only because I realized at a very early age that money was the only way they would be present in my life, so I decided to exploit the shit out of it.”

You don’t have an answer to what he said. His experience of family is unique and unrelatable to you in every way. “I would’ve done the same if I were in your shoes,” you say, not quite believing your words. “You shouldn’t feel bad. You’re doing a great job.”

He looks at you like you hung the moon. “You think so?”

You try to hide your surprise at his reaction. “Yeah, I mean, you’re the captain of the team and the strongest player. You’ve been working so hard to get your grades up this semester, I’ve seen your dedication.” 

He smiles at you– not his usual cheeky smirk, but a genuine, heartfelt smile. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Don’t thank me, Gojo, I’m just stating an observation.”

“Satoru.”

“What?”

“Call me Satoru. It’s what my friends call me.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Are we friends?”

He raises an eyebrow. “You were nice to me just now. I doubt you’re nice to a lot of people.”

“Well…” you trail off.

“Well…?” he echoes as he stops his car in front of my dorm building. 

You unbuckle my seatbelt. “Maybe a conversation for another day. Thanks for the ride, Go– Satoru.”

He smiles for a split second before it is wiped away and replaced with a pondering expression. “Wait–”

You stop before you can open the car door. “Yeah?”

“Let me walk you to your room.”

It’s your turn to smile now. “I can walk myself to the dorm, Satoru.”

“It’s late.”

“I’m a big girl.”

“Come on.”

He’s so cute– wait what? Why would your mind go there? That’s Satoru Gojo, a certified college whore.

“Fine, walk me to my dorm room,” you hear yourself say. What is wrong with you?

The two of you get out of the car and begin to walk towards the building gate. The midnight air sways against your face while your cardigan protects the rest of your body. The place is quiet, only crickets heard amongst the trees. The moonlight reflects on the cars parked in the parking lot as you and Satoru walk through it.

“So you were saying?” He breaks the silence.

“What?”

“You said ‘Well…’,” he points out.

You chuckle softly as you look away to the ground. “Nothing really… you said you doubt I’m nice to a lot of people; I was gonna say I don’t talk to a lot of people to begin with.”

He looks at you with his head tilted in confusion. “Why’s that?”

You shrug. “Not a lot of people approach me here, you know? I just… exist, I guess. I mean, I’ve got Shoko. I talk to Nanami and Utahime sometimes. I’m not completely friendless, so that’s nice.”

“Three people in a college with around 20,000 students isn’t really… you know…” He trails off.

You feel the walls around you crumble a little as you speak. “I know, I know. But like I said, no one approaches me, which makes sense. And I’m not one to randomly approach people. Not great with social cues.”

He nods thoughtfully. “Why would you say it makes sense for no one to approach you?”

Why was he asking you so many questions? You can’t remember the last time someone had been interested in getting to know you in this way.

“I’m a scholarship student, I’m not exactly…” You try to think of a word, “relevant in your social hierarchy.”

He is quiet after you say that, probably trying to figure out how to respond to that. So instead, you continue, “It doesn’t matter to me. I always think that if they don’t want me, I’ll make myself needed. I’ll become an important person. My parents may not be rich, but who says I can’t be?”

“So you’re really ambitious,” he says. “I mean, I kind of got that from er– your constant hustle.”

You laugh at his remark, appreciating his humor instead of showing you pity like most would. 

The two of you begin to walk up the stairs to your floor when he asks, “Which floor is it again?”

“Second.”

“Right… I’ve never been here. Shoko’s always coming over to ours to hang out.”

“The three of you must be really close.” He nods. “Yeah, well, five now actually. Nanami and Haibara came along during our sophomore year when we moved in together. They are good athletes, so I thought keeping them close would be good for the team.”

You nod as you reach your dorm room and ring the doorbell. When Shoko doesn’t answer, Satoru says, “She’s probably at the library. Or with Suguru.”

You nod at the possibility as you take out your copy of the keys. The jingling echoes through the empty hallway. You unlock the door to reveal your room filled with darkness. Turning on the lights, you politely invite Satoru in, to which he happily obliges.

He casually plops down on your bed, his legs swinging down.

“Make yourself at home, don’t be shy,” you say sarcastically. His phone rings. When he picks it up, you watch his demeanor change as the person on the other side of the phone speaks.

“No, I told you guys to not attend any parties for a month,” he says in a serious tone that’s very unlike him. “We have practice first thing in the morning every day before the season starts, and I will not stand any mishaps.”

Listening to him scold his teammates and watching him be a good captain stirs something unknown in you. It’s so attractive for one to be this responsible and laidback at the same time. Your eyes roam around his big biceps, stopping at the hand that holds the phone against his ear. He has nice hands, you think, wondering how it might feel inside you. 

Snap out of it.

You will not throw yourself to him only to be tossed aside. You remind yourself why you’re with him– for a job. A deal that benefits the both of you equally. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then why did you tell him things you’ve never admitted to anyone?

What bothers you more is the fact that he was so interested in getting to know you. The way he is always so grounded around you makes you wonder if your previous perception of him being an arrogant asshole was just a misconception.

He hangs up the phone and smiles sheepishly at you, his dimples denting his cheeks. “Sorry,” he says. “It was Haibara.”

“It’s fine,” you say as you subconsciously move forward and sit beside him on your bed.

“Hi,” he says as his blue eyes pierce through you.

“Hi,” you smile back at him, unable to stop yourself from wondering what the hell he was doing in your dorm room of all places he could be right now. “Did you have to be somewhere?”

He scrunches his brows. “No, why?”

“No, I thought Haibara needed you or something.”

“Oh no, that’s been dealt with, don’t worry.”

When did you both sit so close together? You can almost feel his breath against your skin. “You have practice early in the morning.”

“I can function with less sleep.” He is almost too quick to answer.

Your faces are only inches away when his eyes fall to your lips. You close your eyes and feel his lips brush against yours. You kiss him back immediately. 

Once you give him the green light, he deepens the kiss and you let out a low moan. His tongue enters your mouth as he hovers over you on the bed with you lying on your back. He trails his kisses down your jaw while pressing down to your tit with one hand.

His other hand trails to your inner thighs and you feel the heat pool between your legs. You let out a needy gasp, causing him to contact his lips against yours again while his hand unbuttons your jeans and slides inside them. He rubs your clothed pussy and intoxicated bliss spreads over you.

“Ahh, fuck, Satoru,” you whine. He takes that as a sign and slips his fingers inside your panties. Your eyes roll back when you feel two fingers thrust inside you while his thumb works on your clit.

“Nghh, Satoru, fuck, hahh don’t stop,” you don’t even know how loud you’re being, neither do you care right now.

As you say that, he takes his hand out of your pants, which makes you squirm needily. He positions himself such that he is facing between your legs. He reaches for the hem of your jeans as you lift your hips up and he pulls them down, followed by your panties, leaving your bottom bare in front of him. 

He finally brings his face closer to your heat and licks a long stripe along the slit your pussy. You moan out in utter pleasure, spreading your legs further for better access. He begins to nibble at your clit, making you see splashes of euphoria in front your eyes. The pleasure is too all-consuming for you to even think of what’s right or wrong, of what you should or should not be doing. And you couldn’t be bothered to care about any of it right now. 

He adds two fingers deep in your cunt, hitting the g-spot repeatedly as his mouth sucks on your clit. You feel the pressure build up like waves. “So close, Satoru, don’t stop,” you cry out. The waves crash over the shore with a loud moan escaping your lips. 

You lay there panting, recovering from what you would call the best orgasm you’ve had in your life, as he sits up and looks down at you, a proud expression masking that pretty face of his, now all glistening in your juices.

The realization of what you just did hits you the moment the high dies down. You quickly close your legs and sit up, trying to find your panties. 

“What happened?” Satoru asks in a concerned tone. You ignore him and put your underwear on. 

Once you are done, you finally look at him. “Get out,” you state simply.

“What?”

“You heard me. Get out.”

“Did you not like it?”

“Gojo, leave.”

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong!”

“What’s wrong?” you echo his words. “Everything about this is wrong. I’m your tutor. I work for you.”

“So?”

“So, we shouldn’t be doing this. It’s inappropriate.”

“Are you serious? I thought we–”

“No, I don’t know why I told you so much about myself. Starting tomorrow, everything is strictly professional, or I’m gonna have to quit.”

“Y/N, you can’t just say that, you know that, right?” Satoru sounds determined.

“Yes, I very much can. I’m sorry but I simply won’t let you think you can have me like that just because you’re you.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“What I mean is that I know you hook up with like hundreds of girls, and I just don’t want to be another name you tick off on your list.”

He looks exasperated. “You think that’s what you are? A name on a list? First of all, I don’t have a fucking list. Secondly, I don’t hook up with hundreds of girls. I haven’t done that since freshman year.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I don’t have the time to hook up with anyone.”

“You haven’t had sex since your freshman year?” Your voice is softer now.

“Not once.”

“Then why did you…” You don’t have to finish the sentence for him to understand it.

“Because I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, really. It felt right.”

You would be lying if you say it didn’t feel right for you. But you don’t tell him that. Instead you ask, “Since when have you wanted to?”

He reveals his dimples at that question, “Since you asked me if I would cooperate with you if you tutored me.”

This brings a chuckle to your voice. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, something about you bossing me around was… you know.”

You laugh at his words. “You’re a dumbass,” you say as you lean forward and take his lips to yours.

[featherandferns]

JJ x feminist reader when Kamala loses

bro don't even I can't fucking believe it. I'm so sorry american pals and gals, my heart actually bleeds for u (if you're a trump supporter respectfully depart from my blog, I hate him <3)

"No."

"What the fuck-"

"No, this can't be happening-"

"What the actual fuck-"

"No!"

It's like your body is possessed. You stand to your feet and stare at the television like you're watching a train wreck happen before your eyes. And you are. Because Kamala lost, and Trump won.

"And the forty-seventh president of the United States-" the stiff faced newsreader relays "-is Donald J. Trump."

"Fuck!" JJ shouts. He grabs for his beer bottle and lurches it towards the television. The glass shatters against the wall. You drop back down onto the sofa as if you're legs have lost all their strength. Your head falls into your hands and your eyes squeeze shut. It's like a nightmare. This can't be happening.

"This is fucking rigged! It's fucking rigged, I swear to God!" JJ is rambling, angry and heartbroken, almost as much as you. His arm flails out to the television as if personally condemning it for giving this news. "He's a fucking criminal! A fucking criminal and he gets voted in again!"

But it scares you. Scares you in a way that JJ doesn't understand, a way that he would never understand. He lost the power once before, let it slip through his fingers, and you have an awful feeling that he's not going to make that mistake again. Roe versus Wade flashes through your head. Every pregnancy scare you've ever shared with JJ now comes with that extra, looming concern that if you are, if it is real, then you don't have any choice. Well, you do - you have the choice to risk an infection or even death whilst taking autonomy over your body and life. But what next? What could Trump possibly know of what it is to be a woman in America? What was he going to take from the people next?

JJ's arms wrap around you and he tugs you into his side. He presses his face into your hair and plants a kiss to your cheek.

"I'm so sorry."

Tears well into your eyes. "I fucking hate him, JJ."

"I know-"

"No," you snap, "you don't know, JJ. You can hate him but not like I do. Not like we do. I mean, the stuff he's said about women. The stuff he's done-"

You lift your head and meet JJ's eyes. There's the anger there, the rage held back by his sympathy. His jaw is tight but his lips are downturned. He nods. Sighing, you rub at your eyes.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't snap at you."

"Nah, I get it. It's scary."

"It's fucking terrifying," you agree quietly.

JJ presses a kiss to your forehead and you let yourself melt into him. The two of you sit like that on the sofa for a long, long moment. The television rambles in the background, reciting which state voted which party, and you want to scream. It was so close that you could almost taste it. A female president. Wouldn't that have been incredible? A female's perspective. A female in power. A female for all the other little girls to look up to, to dream to be.

"Next time," JJ reassures, as if reading your thoughts like a teleprompter. "I promise it'll happen soon."

[niki-phoria]

just the two of us / 깊어져 가는 moonstruck

notes: gn reader (written with male reader in mind), 553 words, reader is implied to be in uni but it's not important, first enha fic in five months we are so back, inspo from this tiktok lmao, title from enhypen - moonstruck

dangling your legs off of the edge of the pier, you lean back against your hands. a cool breeze blows through your air, rustling your once meticulously styled hair. the sunset ahead paints the sky in hues of pink and purple. sunlight illuminates the horizon, shining across the ripples of water like golden flakes.

beside you, PARK SUNGHOON playfully knocks his shoulder against yours as he sits down. he pushes a hand through his own messy hair, exposing more of his face to the light. “i told you it was nice out,” he teases. “way better than being cooped up in your dorm room all day.”

“yeah, whatever,” you grumble. sunghoon snickers, but otherwise remains quiet, saving his boasting for the time being. 

the minutes pass slowly. you can faintly hear the soft chatter from other beach visitors as they pass by you or walk laps along the shoreline. they move like ants in the distance. “hoon.” sunghoon shifts slightly. he smiles softly when his gaze meets yours; the corners of his eyes crinkle into the familiar crescents that make your heart race. his eyes shine the color of honey in the golden sunlight; they’re just as sweet and inviting as everything else about the man. “yeah?”

“thank you.” you turn to face the sunset once again, brushing your clammy hands on the fabric of your pants. you hope sunghoon can’t tell how fast your heart is beating. “for bringing me here. for everything.”

he smiles brightly. your breath hitches in your throat when his hand trails over your own. his smooth nails brush against your knuckles as his fingertips dance along your skin. time moves as slowly as molasses. the butterflies swarming throughout your stomach feel more like angry hornets. 

“thanks for coming,” he says. you focus on the slow movement of the ocean’s shore pushing and pulling away from the sand. the movement feels eerily similar to the way sunghoon’s hands slip downwards until they intertwine with our own. “i know how busy you are.”

“i’m never too busy for you.” the words leave your lips before you can stop them. you shut your eyes as your body cringes into itself, desperate to escape the situation you had just created.

however, sunghoon simply chuckles in response. his grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly; he comfortably leans his head against your shoulder. stray strands of his messy hair tickle against the exposed skin of your neck. 

“well, if you’re never too busy for me,” he begins, chuckling when your body tenses beneath him. sunghoon shifts slightly, raising his hand to cup your cheek. your breath hitches in your throat when your gaze finally meets his once again. “can i take you out tomorrow? on a date?”

your heart seems to miss a beat in your chest. the breath in your lungs disappears in an instant. sunghoon squeezes your trembling hand in his in an attempt to soothe your growing nerves. he watches with sharp eyes and flushed cheeks as you take a shaky breath. “you’re not fucking with me, are you?” 

“never.” his hand rests comfortably against your face. sunghoon strokes his fingertips against your cheekbone.

you smile softly. this time you take the initiative, gently squeezing his hand. “then i would love to go on a date with you.” 

if you enjoyed this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out more enha imagines or enha reactions <3

[kill4luvina]

✧ Never Again ✧

"I got a feeling one of these days You'll be the reason I stay Way you whine, girl, you make me insane"

PossisiveBf!TojixBlack!Reader 

CW - Modern, Overly Possisive Toji, OOC, Toji Smoking, Unprotected Sex, Public Sex, Breeding Kink, Creampie. Probbably more but I’m lazy and not proofread. (I havent posted in so long give me a break.)

Summary: You and your boyfriend of 3 years go out on a date to celebrate when you run into a old friend who obviously can’t read the room. In a hurry to finish the short reunion your boyfriend leaves angrily waiting for you outside the car to ready to take his frustration out on you. 

“Tojii, this place is so wonderfu!” You’d gasp holding onto his arm in awe, as you both entered the dimly lit restaurant. Your eyes glued to the white plaster sculpture of a winged figure riding a horse above you two. Your boyfriend woud smile knowing you loved sculptures and this would be the perfect place to spend you 3rd anniversary.

After being seated , about 30 minutes later you were caught off guard by a figure behind you. You quickly turn to see a bright smile. Gojo, one of your old friends from High school who seemed to have not aged a day over 20. Though you knew he was around 25, you smile back greeting him with a wave. “How are you?” He asked. 

You glanced over to your boyfriend who looked unbothered before bringing your full attention back to Gojo. “Oh I’m doing wonderful, You?” You smiled happy to see him, the last time you two spoke waas at the end of after a trip with your high school friend group. You two soon lost track of time talking for almost 15 minutes! 

You notice Gojo give a strange look before looking around in confusion. You turn to see Toji’s gone, your heart dropping. “I-” you couldnt form words wondering how long he had been gone for, if he left you or what. You struggle to make a sentence before gojo smiles a nods. “Go on, it’s my fault i interrupted.” 

You’d smile, “It was nice seeing you!” you’d say quickly getting up and speed walking to the entrance of the restaurant. Your silver glittery heels slightly slowing you down, which made you quickly take them off as soon as you got outside panicking as you jogged to where he had parked. “Toji?!” You’d call out startled when you didnt see his car for a moment.

“Right here mamas.” He’d answer from a little farther down making you sigh quickly, seeing the smoke from his blund rising into the dark night. You’d slowly walk to the direction of his voice until you saw him standing against his blacked out Lamborghini Aventador. “Toji, I’m sorry I got so caught up in the conversation..” You’d say looking at the ground.

He’d huff ignoring your apology just hitting the blunt, his eyes not even moving in your direction. He’d stand there silently listening to pleas, as you kept apolging, tears filling your eyes as you started to sniffle. Your voice cracking as you came closer to him pulling on his suit begging him to even look at you. 

“Y/n.”  Your heart would completely sink, he only ever called you by your name when you really fucked up. You’d look up at him, and he was now looking down at you. His eyes cold and low as he blew some smoke into your face. The Earthy scent mixed with his La Nuit De L'homme Yves Saint Laurent colonne making you weak. 

“Y-yes?” You’d answer, eyes watering even more scared at what he might say this time. “Mamas, what’d I’d tell you about guys talking to you?” He’d tilt his head, his eyes softening up as he noticed your tears starting to roll down your face. “N-not to pay them any mind, and I’m sorry he was an old friend!” You’d try to explain only to be shut up with a kiss. 

“I’ll let you get away with this one because it’s our anniversary. But you owe me one thing..”

You don’t know what possessed you to let this happen but you found yourself getting fucked agasint this mans car. Lamborghini to be specific, out in a public parking lot. 

“T-Tojii-” You’d whine feeling him drill in and out of your squelching pussy, tightening around him as you heard footsteps nearing. “Shh, they’re gonna hear..” He’d chuckle knowing they were going to see anyway. “F-fuckk. too deep-!” you’d cry as you felt him bury himself as deep as possible. His smirk grew as he watched a couple gasp seeing this. 

You’d let out a loud moan feeling him slap your ass, your dress pulled up to your waist and laced panties in his right hand. “Your being too loud..” He’d whissper in your ear still fucking your now creamy pussy. “How about..” Failing to fight back you found your panties now shoved in your mouth to shut you up, your eyes tearing up in embarrassment as you saw another man walk past. 

Unfortunately for you, it was someone you knew. The person who started all of this, you felt your tears start to pour as you couldn’t stop moaning from the pleasure but the embarrassment was too much. “Y/n?” He’d titled his head to the side in shock, feeling himself get hard before quickly walking off trying to pretend he never saw.

“Toji!” You’d scream muffled by the fabric in your mouth, you quickly spit it out turning back to look at him. He’d without hesitation push your head against the car window, “who’s a good slut?’ He’d ask fucking you even faster as you felt yourself reaching the edge. Your eyes rolling back as he brought one of your legs up to fuck you deeper. 

“Omg! Fuckkk!” You’d cry cumming all over his dick, feeling him thrust into you a few more times before letting his load out in you. “Look at you, a little cum dump.” He’d snicker as he pulled out, giving your ass a little slap before picking your heels & purse from the floor. You’d feel yourself get picked up and gently placed in the car. 

“Never do that shit again.” He’d say coldly before givng you a kiss on your forehead and coming around the to the drivers seat. You’d sit there silently just rethinking your life as you felt yourself drip  your boyfriends cum onto his expensive seats.

Little did the both of know of a few cars down sat gojo in his own car, windows rolled down half way, cum all over his stomach & chest. Breathing heavily with the feeling of embarrassment overwhelming him. He had sat there listening to you, just to get off to his fist? He didn’t feel okay after that one yet he loved every moment of it while it was happening.  

yall should i make a part 2 with gojo telling u to leave ur bf :)

"Bad man looking good in Dior Bad man drip to the core Sport car's parked on the right spot Bad man sleek and you know"