#slim frame sliding door

[kamitv]

▷ (S)CREAM VI

Synopsis . In which your ‘killers’ soon realize you’re not stuck with them but they’re stuck with you… / Pairings . (Separate) Ghostface!Geto x f!reader, Ghostface!Gojo x f!reader, & Ghostface!Choso x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, three/foursome, squirting, non-curse au, oral sex, reader gets kinda passed around, men teasing one another, dirty talk, unprotected sex, established relationship, lowk feral reader, cuck!Geto, rough sex, praise, overstim, degrading, tw: spitting, pet names, filth (cùm eating), pussy slapping, teasing, a hint of knife play, etc . / wc . 9.6k (oops!)

A/N: Sorry this is late, but anywho! I <3 Ghostface. Art creds to @aransmind [MDNI]

“You want me to wear that and chase you around the estate?”

“Yeah, and when you find me…”

“I fuck you instead of killing you.”

“Mhm!” You hum cheerfully to your rather concerned boyfriend whose lap you’re currently sitting on.

Those dark raven strands of hair framing his gorgeous face sway with the light tip of his head to the side as his naturally slim eyes narrow at your overly excited expression, “And I’m doing this, why?” Geto questions.

You let out a giggle, which only confuses him even more. “Because Scream is my favorite franchise and Ghostface is hot… Duh.”

It’s as if the man only falls for you more and more every day. Geto’s been with you for roughly two years now and yet you’ve never revealed this sudden… mask kink you clearly have. He likes the Scream franchise just as much as you do and the idea of chasing you around and eventually fucking you in costume definitely excites him.

So there you are; sitting in his lap and pouting, steadily snaking your arms around his neck and pulling yourself in close before you plant a chaste little kiss on his lips.

“C’mon Sugu, I know you’ve thought about it before,” You point out to him in a low purr as your lips depart from his.

The hands that’d been calmly resting on your hips suddenly grow intrigued as they slide up to your waist and give you a soft squeeze, “I really haven’t.” He admits honestly. You can see it all in his eyes that he silently agreed to this the moment you brought out that stupid mask.

At his soft admission, a gleaming smile spreads across your face, “Okayy, well you are now… So is that a yes or what?”

He pretends to think for only a moment longer, glancing off to the side in faux thought before landing those pretty lilac irises back onto you, “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow's Halloween so, we can do it then.” Geto tells you.

And that was all it took. 

Halloween night was here before you even had time to fully prepare for it. The entire day you weren’t able to stop thinking about the moment Geto would walk through the front door, dressed in all black with that overly attractive ghostface mask cloaking his equally beautiful face. 

Your heart was racing in anticipation as the sun began to set outside and the clock ticked closer and closer toward the time of which he would return home from work. You knew he’d be there no more than thirty minutes after and all you could do was wonder how this all would go down.

Clad in only one of his oversized white t-shirts, you distracted yourself by mindlessly scrolling on your phone as you awaited the moment he’d get home. Any second now and you’d hear that lovely security chime go off—

You jump a little in your bed when your thought is cut off by an incoming unknown number. If you weren’t buzzing with excitement before, you damn sure are now because it’s clear your boyfriend is going out of his way to play into this with you. There are practically small hearts in your eyes as you tap that enticing green button on your screen to answer the phone.

Biting back a smile, you’re quick to bring the phone up to your ear, “Hello?”

An almost low-quality distortion to the person’s voice is instantly recognized by you—it wasn’t Suguru’s voice at all, it was that infamous voice changer that spoke to you. “Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” A man asks, and you know this line all too well.

Hell, you know the entire dialogue. This is exactly why you sit up in your bed and hold back that smile of yours like your life depended on it. Tilting your head into the phone, you glance around your bedroom, “Who is this?”

“You tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine,” The ‘mystery’ man continues. 

You had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from giggling right then and there. Your dark little fantasy was becoming true right before your very eyes and it had a sliver of excitement slipping down your spine. Sliding out from your bed, you take small steps toward the nearby window and glance outside.

Scoffing softly, “I don’t think so.” You quote, straight from the first Scream. You’ve seen the movie enough times to recite the whole thing word for word, even his lines.

It’s a bit off-script how things go from here on out but, that’s the goal.

“Aw, you’re no fun.” He purrs. Even with that damn voice changer, you’d recognize that purr any day. You know this is your boyfriend and that only has your body heating up with each passing second.

Now you’re left to improv a bit. “Think so?” You reply as you pull your bedroom curtains closed and turn away from the window.

“Oh I know so, sweetheart. It’s Halloween night and you’re doing nothing to celebrate.” The man on your phone points out. 

You’re walking out of your room now and taking a careful peek into the dimmed hallway. “And that makes me not fun? What am I supposed to do to celebrate Halloween aside from dressing up and maybe handing out some candy?”

He chuckles. “You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you can figure something else out.”

“Let me guess,” Your brows raise a little, “I should be watching scary movies?”

“That depends. You like scary movies?” There you are, right back onto the script.

“Uhuh,” You hum in response with a slight nod as if he could see you.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?” And there it is, infamous line one of many. You nearly let out a dreamy sigh knowing that it’s nothing but your boyfriend on the other end.

Allowing yourself to smile this time, you trek down your hallway and towards the staircase. “Uhhh, I dunno,” Of course you know, but where’s the fun in saying it so soon?

“You have to have a favorite. What comes to mind?” Every scratchy distorted-pitched word that pours from the man’s mouth has anticipation bubbling within you.

You sigh. “Uhmm, Halloween!” As you recall that answer straight from the movie, you turn to your staircase and allow your eyes to scan the first floor of your home.

Most of the lights are on so it’s not too dark or anything but you really are curious whether or not Geto has made his way inside already.

“Y’know, the one with the guy with the white mask who walks around and stalks babysitters?” You quote flawlessly yet again. You’re such a fanatic for the Scream franchise that you’re loving every single second of this.

“Yeahh,” He purrs again, making your heart involuntarily flutter.

You begin to slowly descend down the flight of stairs, “What’s yours?”

“Guess.” He orders on the other end.

Pausing halfway down, you glance over to your kitchen. The light is still on and everything is exactly the way you left it. “Uhm, Nightmare on Elm Street?” You soon reply.

“Is that the one where the guy had knives for fingers?” The way your boyfriend knows every word to this just as well as you do makes your stomach churn in affection just a bit. 

Your voice turns enthusiastic and you continue your steps down, “Yeah! Freddy Kruger.”

“Freddy, that’s right.” He continues, “I like that movie—it was scary.”

“Well the first one was but the rest sucked.” You’re downstairs now, looking around at the way all the blinds in your home are open. Did you leave them like that for this exact reason? You don’t remember.

“Mhm,” ‘Mystery’ man hums and you swear you can picture the smirk on his face as he utters the next infamous line. “Soo, you got a boyfriend?”

You pull your lower lip into your mouth for a second before smiling, “Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” Now you’re making a right to enter your living room, heading toward your couch placed in the center.

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?” He asks again.

You pause for a second. This literally is your boyfriend so, surely he wants you to play into this question, right?

“No.” You chirp simply.

You can hear the smile on his face even through that stupidly attractive voice changer, “You never told me your name.”

You know what comes after this and you can’t help but begin to look around as you plop down on your couch, “Why do you wanna know my name?” 

It’s silent over the phone for a long couple of seconds

“Cause’ we wanna know who we’re looking at.”

Your heart surprisingly sinks as those words hit your ears. We? That’s not… how that scene goes. He was supposed to say that he wants to know who he’s looking at. There’s no we? Where the hell did he even get that from??

For the first time since you picked up this damn phone and started this whole thing, you’re actually a bit nervous. Chuckling loosely, you try to play it off as your eyes glance around your living room, “What do you mean, ‘we’?” 

There’s a shuffling over the phone for just a moment. Then, you hear that distorted voice again, but the pitch is slightly different. “C’mon, princess. You’ve seen the movies, you should know by now that there’s hardly ever only one killer.” The man says. 

Eyes all over every corner of the house, heart thumping slightly in your chest, you can feel your anxiety rising within. “I… I don’t understand.” You murmur softly.

And then… all the lights go out with a loud noise coming from somewhere outside. If you weren’t shaking in fear before, you damn sure are now. Your eyes go even wider and you move to put your phone on speaker, clicking your flashlight on right after. 

“S-Suguru, this isn’t funny! I like the movies ‘nd all but I’m not the biggest fan of being scared, you know that.” The person(s) on the phone can hear the clear trembling in your voice as you stand up and point your flashlight to whatever area your eyes land on, searching for any signs of anyone.

There’s a snicker over the line. “Oh but this iss funny, sweets.” The tone changed again—it’s still distorted in that famous Ghostface pitch, but it’s not Suguru nor the person who’d said something before. “You look sooo scared right now.”

Aw hell, that lets you know he (or they) can see you right now. Which is just great considering you can’t see shit aside from darkness and the few areas of your house that your light lands on. You’re scared to leave the living room but… you’re also terrified of staying right where you are. You don’t know how many Ghostface’s are in your house right now and you don’t know what the hell Suguru has planned for you tonight.

“Stop playing around! Turn the lights back on and quit this scary shit, Suguru.” You huff out into the call, taking one step to your right and hearing the floor creak below your foot.

The house is eerily quiet—which is ridiculously concerning considering how he-, they can see you but you can’t see them at the moment. How the hell are they talking to you without you hearing them? They are in your house now, right??

“You said you wanted to get fucked by Ghostface, baby.” The voice returns, as does that natural purr, letting you know it’s Geto talking once more. “You never said how many…”

You slowly walk around your couch and shift your flashlight toward the blinds, trying to get a look outside your windows. “Are you serious? That sounds insane. How many of you are there?!” Your gaze flicks toward the nearby staircase and you only scare yourself as your eyes get lost in the darkness of your home.

Geto’s still talking, “Including me, there’s three of us. How does that sound, hm? I’m obviously not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to but, you do know who we all are.”

You swallow thickly. “Do I?” This time your words leave in a whisper and you swear you hear a shuffling coming from upstairs.

Lord knows you’re scared out of your mind right now. But, it is comforting to know that whatever this is, your boyfriend is in control of it all. You trust him more than anything, so there’s no real reason to be scared… right? 

“Mhm. So how ‘bout we play a game?” Your boyfriend requests, and the sound of him smiling again is heard through his tone.

You stop walking entirely and your eyes are fixated upstairs as you flash your light up there. “Okay Jigsaw.” You snort, “What… What kind of game, huh?”

He sighs, almost sounding as though he were sitting back against something. “The one you and I were going to play. Y’know, you run around ‘n hide but if I find you, I fuck you. Let’s continue that but… with two others.”

“Suguru, you’re gonna let two other guys fuck me?” You’re beyond baffled by this whole thing. Never in a million years would you have expected this from your boyfriend. This is the same man who got mad a while ago for the way some guy who was all flirty with you at a restaurant…

Geto hums deeply, “S’long as you’re okay with it and they find you before I do, yeahh.”

“I didn’t know you were into that…” You reply, moving a hand to tug his shirt further down your body. Knowing that there was more than just him in the area right now made you a bit self-conscious.

“Didn’t know you were into masks but the Ghostface thing really does it for ya’, huh?” Suguru snaps back with that sass you know and love.

“I mean…” You shrug, “Yeah.”

“Right. So then, the game is simple. You try to hide and whoever finds you first; fucks you.”

“That’s it?”

“Oh, nooo. There’s more to this baby…” You swear you hear a creak upstairs—coming from somewhere down the left end of the hallway. It gives you the chills as Geto continues. “See, I know how loud you are when you cum so… tonight, I want you to be nice and quiet.”

You gulp, “What happens if I’m not?”

“Another one of us will find you.”

“Oh—“

“…And join in.” He steadily adds on with an amused smile on his face that you obviously can’t see right now.

Your heart races at the thought alone. “Oh.”

Just for extra consent, Geto tilts his head against the phone, “That alright with you?”

“Yes… but, wait do I still have to be quiet even if there ends up being two of you guys fucking me…?” You lean to the side a bit and aim your light toward the direction you heard the creak, spotting no one and no signs of life whatsoever.

“Yep.” Geto replies with a teasing pop of the ‘p’.

“But—“

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do fine. After all,” The voice changer clicks off and Suguru’s tone is nice and clear with you, “Y’know whose cock you’re supposed t’get loud on.”

You feel yourself throb at the sound of his voice without that stupid filter, puffing out a little sigh in reaction to his lewd words. 

“Oh, and by the way…”

“Huh?”

The voice changer clicks on one last time and he chuckles. “They’re already in the house.”

——

Okay, you knew Halloween was one of Suguru’s favorite holidays but shit you didn’t expect him to go all out like this.

Not one, not two, but three Ghostfaces in your home searching for you right now? You’re lucky the house is big and there are plenty of places to hide but fuck is your anxiety through the goddamn roof as you sit in the empty tub of your first-floor bathroom. The door is shut but not locked and you’ve got the tub curtain pulled closed, just in case one of them does happen to stroll in.

Obviously, this wasn’t the best hiding spot in the world but you wanted them to eventually find you. You were scared in the beginning because of how unexpected this was but now you’re just as excited as you were when you first received that infamous phone call and recited all the lines with your boyfriend.

As soon as the call had ended, you clicked your flashlight off and snuck around in search of a hiding place—which is roughly how you ended up where you are now…

Now you’re left wondering who would find you first. Well, that and who the hell is under two of those masks. You suspect one of them is Gojo Satoru since that’s your boyfriend’s best friend but the other guy… you’re not too sure. Geto said you knew him but that still doesn’t help much.

Your boyfriend has a lot of friends that you know. Which one does he trust enough to let them have their way with you??

After maybe fifteen minutes of sitting in the tub, you start hearing someone outside the bathroom door. Footsteps shuffle by and you can tell the person went off into your kitchen. Then you hear the sounds of doors and cabinets opening, all of which make your breath hitch.

It’s so nerve-wracking and exciting waiting for someone to swing open the bathroom door. The footsteps soon pass it again and you let out the faintest sigh.

…Only to hear those steps halt not too far off from the door. Then, they turn and your body stiffens up entirely as each thump against the hardwood floor draws closer and closer to the door. You can’t see it because of the shower curtains but, there’s a shadow at the bathroom door.

Then you hear a small clinking sound, followed by a very soft… thump? Almost as if someone were leaning against the bathroom door to listen.

It was so scarily exciting that you had to move a hand over your mouth to keep yourself as silent as possible. After which, it’s all so very motionless.

There’s no sound, safe for someone walking around upstairs, and you just know someone’s outside the bathroom door right now. Your heart sinks into your ass the moment you hear that doorknob turning torturously slow until it’s lightly pushed open. 

Then, there are but two soft steps taken inside and you don’t hear it but the door is closed behind whoever just entered.

They could be coming in to just use the bathroom… riiiight?

That’s extremely naive of you to think but a girl can only hope. Another step is taken deeper into the bathroom and that soft clinking sound you heard before is getting louder. It’s faint, almost like… jewelry or… necklaces slapping against one another gently. Jewelry… Necklaces… Which one of Geto’s friends do you know wears a lot of jewelry...? C’mon, think.

Necklaces… rings maybe… piercings—

The very second it clicks in your brain who this might be, you practically flinch right out of your skin as you spot a knife slowly moving to slide the bathtub curtain open. As the curtain is pulled open, you’re met with the tilted head of someone in a Ghostface costume.

Your eyes are all wide on them and you genuinely have no idea where on your body this guy is looking but the mask is actually quite scary when it’s all dark and neither of you is making any sudden movements.

His head slowly angles to the opposing direction, just like Ghostface often does in the movies, and you gulp loudly. The curtain is pinned to the wall by the knife in his hand and you think you’re sweating.

“Scared?” His voice is deep. Familiarly deep. It quickly confirms your suspicions of who’s face may be lying beneath that iconic mask.

With your eyes all frantic along what’s covering his face, noticing the bits of blood and cracks decorating it, you swallow thickly yet again. “Choso?” Your voice is hardly above a whisper and the air feels so heavy with tension.

His hand moves away from the wall and the knife, which you hope is fake, is placed on the edge of the tub with a soft tapping noise emitting into the still air. Then he takes that same hand and lifts it to pull his mask up to the right side of his face, revealing his expression to you as he crouches down to your eye level. You quickly feel your fear die off and it’s replaced with… something else as you study his face. There’s fake blood splattered on his skin, makeup extending the tattoo along the bridge of his nose, and piercings that stand out against his facial features.

“The tub, really?” He whispers to you, chuckling softly and flashing this kind smile at you that makes you feel overly warm inside. “S’this the best you could do? Y’know if I was a real killer you’d be dead right now, right?” Choso teases, all of his words kept in a low voice.

You roll your eyes and shift against the cold tub flooring, “I wouldn’t have hid in here if you guys were real killers, I’m not dumb.”

His lips curve into this sexy yet lazy smirk and you can feel your heart fluttering in your chest. You had a thing for Choso way back before you started dating Geto and it seems as though your body hasn’t forgotten why. “Yeahh?” Choso chastises with another tilt of his head, “Think you would be the final girl?”

Leaning forward a bit, you nod. “No, I know I would.”

Choso lets out a hum before biting his lower lip for a moment. Then, he lets it fall from in between his teeth and you think you’re in a trance. “Oh she’s cocky, huh?” He teases.

You smile at him and then push up to stand on your knees. Leaning all the way forward, you slowly reach for the knife and take it into your hands. Then you move to hold the tip of it right underneath his jaw and the sound of his breath hitching hits your ears just right. 

You openly stare at his lips and watch the way his smirk slowly transcends into a full cocky smile. “Y’know that’s not fake, right?” Choso hushes out to you.

The knife is carefully caressing his skin as you trace it up slightly to his chin, “It’s not?” You ask innocently, placing your free hand on the edge of the tub and watching how he slowly moves to sit on his knees so that he’s looking up at you.

His face is all pretty from this angle, big brown doe-eyes batting up at you so softly, such a pretty face of dark innocence presented before you. Who’s really the ‘victim’ here—you or him?

“Nah,” Choso whispers, “That’s a real knife.”

“Why would you carry around a real knife?” You ask in an equally soft tone as your brows twist up in confusion.

He shrugs. “Honestly, I was gonna ask if you were into a bit of knife play…” 

His words make your mind stray away from the situation at hand. Your imagination is quick to push out ideas and all sorts of scenarios that could have occurred with this knife of his had you not looked so scared when he first saw you…

“Are you?” The question in return makes Choso’s gaze flicker into something way more lustful than it was moments before.

He scoffs, “Am I? Why would I ask you about it if I wasn’t.”

“So… What, you wanna cut my clothes off of somethin’?” You ask carefully, steadily slipping the tip of the knife along his jawline.

Choso just barely nods his head in response.

“Y’know it’s funny you say that and yet you’re the one on your knees with a knife held up to your chin right now.” You point out with an all-knowing grin plastered all over your face.

Choso bites back a laugh. It’s cute that you think you have the upper hand here. “You and I both know that could easily change in a matter of seconds.” He claims.

And y’know, maybe it’s because you found yourself turned on by this whole game or maybe it’s simply because you wanted to fuck Choso but either way—you do not shy away from testing that theory. All you said was a simple ‘prove it’ and you found yourself in quite the position moments later.

It was one thing that Choso managed to easily gain a hold of the knife once more but it was another thing entirely that he was able to swiftly and quietly get you out of the tub and into his arms. All without even so much as grazing you with that sharp weapon too.

It was almost impressive, in all honesty.

Somewhere in the mix of all that, he ends up placing the knife down and soon has you sitting on the bathroom counter. Well, had you sitting on the bathroom counter—it quickly becomes a lot more than simply that.

Choso used that lil’ knife of his to cut down the center of your (Geto’s) shirt and was quick to have you all exposed to his overly greedy eyes. You were wearing nothing more than this lacy black set beneath that oversized shirt so it wasn’t much to get you unclothed.

One second he was cutting your shirt open and the next his lips were on yours. Then his pierced tongue was in your mouth and your arms were around his neck, tugging him closer to you and feeling his hard cock poking you through the thick layers of black clothes between you and him.

Which is exactly what led to the way you are currently.

Choso now has your legs spread wide open for him and his clothes are hardly even off, safe for the black cloak-like jacket that slipped off of his shoulders and the way his pants have been tugged down. He’s got on this black compression shirt and you spot the layered chains/necklaces hanging from around his throat that you heard earlier. Now leaning back slightly against the mirror behind you with your eyes set down between the two of you, you’re left watching the mean slap of Choso’s leaky cockhead against your clit. 

“Cho,” You whispered out pleadingly. He’d been doing this for the longest—tapping his thick cock against your clit and then rubbing it from side to side against you, feeling the way you leak onto the counter below and hearing those faint whines escaping your throat.

Then he has the nerve to have the sluttiest expression on his half-revealed face, eyes all low-lidded and glued to your exposed pussy, bottom lip locked in between his teeth as he holds back his own breathy sounds of pleasure, and brows all tense as if he’s not the one torturing the two of you like this. “Shiiiit,” Choso rasps out, sliding his cock down slowly and pressing his fat tip against your weeping hole. “Suguru was right, this pussy is s’fuckin’ loud ‘n messy…” He breathes.

Your lips are all parted and all you can do is pant softly as he lifts his tip away and then slaps it against your cunt again, listening to the shlick tapping sound that comes from your sex.

Almost in a daze, he glides his cock up and down your wet folds, “Look at herrr,” Choso purrs, “All wet f’me. Can’t believe he’s lettin’ us fuck you.” His hips push forward a bit and you feel the way his heavy shaft glides against your cunt instead of inside like you so desperately want him to.

You have to suppress the needy whine that threatens to escape your throat, holding one hand slightly over your mouth. “Choso, please.” You whisper beneath your palm.

He pulls his hips back and angles his tip back down to your entrance, pushing forward ever so slightly and teasing that tight ring of muscle, not trying to really push himself into you at all. “What is it, princess?” Choso taunts, smirking as he lifts his eyes up to your face, “Want me to fuck you?”

You throb at his words, nodding as if a second longer would have you pronounced dead. “Please,” You whine, trying your best to wiggle your hips forward.

Choso leans forward and moves his lips right up your ear, his breath all warm and tickly against your skin. “Yeah? Y’want my cock inside you that badly?” He says with another faint push of his hips. Every word that leaves his lips has you dripping all over him.

It’s not until you move your hand away from your mouth and place it on the counter space behind you, and whisper, “Yes Choso, just put it all the way in already, I’m losing my fuckin’ m-mind…” Your last word leaves a little shaky due to the way he suddenly moves a hand over your lips.

Pressing his palm against your mouth, you grow confused until you look over to the bottom of the bathroom door and see a shadow moving by. Yet another Ghostface was nearby.

Choso, not yet wanting to ruin his alone time with you, presses his lips further against your ear, and his other hand grips your thigh tightly. “M’not ready t’share you yet so, be really fuckin’ quiet f’me, alright?” His warning confused you for half a second before you felt him roll his hips forward with a sharp snap at the end, stuffing you full with every hard inch of his cock in one go.

Your eyes tear up and your mouth hangs open under his hand, a strangled moan escaping your throat. Choso’s dick is so stupidly big, reminding you of your boyfriend in more ways than one. Unlike Geto though, Choso’s got this ruthless right curve and just drags against your sweet spot with every small movement he makes, the rest of his cock felt throbbing and twitching wildly against your sodden walls.

He lets out a choked grunt against your ear and you can feel him humping his cock deeper inside you with these small maddening little thrusts. “Does he even fuck you? S-Shiiit…” Choso lets his thoughts be vocalized against the crown of your ear and you only squeeze around his girthy shaft. “S’fuckin’ tight.. God-, fu-uck…” His voice has this pretty lil’ crack at the end that makes you soak his cock even more, sloppy juices leaking all out from where the two of you are connected.

Choso has to tug his hips back a bit and he completely forgets that he recently heard someone walking by the bathroom as he mindlessly thrusts right back into you. Your eyes meet the back of your skull and you groan into his palm. The wet gurgles and squelches from your pussy are what draws attention to the bathroom, if any.

Which is something you can’t even control, especially not with the way Choso goes from short grunts in your ear to moaning delightedly against your skin and fucking his thick cock into your sinfully warm cunt. Deep and almost passionate strokes are made into you and he can’t help but rid his hand from your mouth at some point. Moving it back to your thighs, he sprawls your legs out even wider so his cock can dig deeper into you.

With your jaw still hanging open, the sounds of him fucking you against the counter slowly grow louder and louder. You’re trying not to moan but it’s so hard with him—Choso knows how to use his cock all too well and his eyes are studying your face so he knows where exactly he should be thrusting. Just the slightest shift of his hips causes drool to leak from the corner of your lips and that makes him flash this fucked-out little smile.

Choso leans up closer and his body sandwiches against yours for a moment. You swear you can feel his angry cockhead prodding at your guts because fuck is he in there deep. Not to mention how orgasmic it is to feel him drag his pierced tongue against your chin, lapping up the mess of drool from your face before shoving the muscle into your mouth and forcing you to suck on it.

That leaves your moaning drowned out for a bit and Choso takes the opportunity to pound himself into you like a damn madman. Your legs quickly begin to feel like jello in his hands and you couldn’t even focus on sucking on his tongue anymore. Then, he pulls his mouth away, just barely, and the two of you are staring deep into each other’s eyes as his pace gets faster. His hips are so sharp against you and you can feel his weighty balls slapping against your ass with every mean and pronounced thrust.

Your breath mingles with one another and you’re both so fucked out that you don’t even realize you’re a lot louder now until you spot the bathroom door cracking open in your peripherals. It barely makes a sound as it’s pushed open slightly and all you see is yet another person wearing a Ghostface mask—the sight alone and the clear eye contact you make with them leading straight to your orgasm.

The second Ghostface stands motionless, doing nothing more than watching the blissful way your eyes lull to the back of your head and you release this sweet moan of Choso’s name. Choso, oblivious to being watched right now, is so close to emptying himself inside you.

“F-Fuck,” He huffs, tipping his head back and looking up to the ceiling for a moment. “So tight… I’m gonna c-cum if you keep squeezin’ me like that.” His voice fluctuates here and there but by the time your eyes roll back into place, the bathroom door is shut and that second Ghostface is now standing right behind Choso.

You flinch and Choso chokes out a grunt at how tightly you just clenched around his cock. The second Ghostface is slow to lift his mask up a bit, only revealing his mouth with this recognizable snake bite piercing that has your cunt gripping onto Choso even tighter. Then, the man leans to Choso’s ear and practically scares him into cumming inside you.

“What do we have here, hm?” Gojo whispers, making Choso’s hips stutter against you. He then reaches a gloved hand around Choso and your neglected clit is met with his thumb swatting over it, “Can’t believe you found her first. S’not fair…” Gojo hums softly with a slight pout.

You have this dumbfounded look all over your face and you may be fucked out of your mind but you swear Choso’s cock is almost harder inside you. The two of you curse in unison as Gojo rotates his thumb against your clit in a sensual circle motion, making you clench again and Choso rolls his gaze back—only the whites of his eyes visible to you.

“K-Keep rubbin’ her like that,” Choso pants with a soft moan. “She’s so fucking tight… I’m gonna die in here, s-shit.” He curses dramatically.

Gojo flicks his thumb upwards against your clit with a nasty trickle of your slick oozing out onto Choso’s cock. “You’re not gonna die, Cho,” He says in a chastising tone with a smile on his face, taking his free hand to pull his mask further up so that you can see his eyes. 

You watch the way Gojo looks over Choso’s shoulder and stares at Choso’s lengthy cock disappearing in and out of your slobbering pussy. Gojo feels his own dick throb against his pants, pressing himself a bit closer to Choso and moving to talk into his ear. “I mean look at her,” Gojo directs, leading to Choso focusing his hazy gaze onto your face. “You’re already fucking her to tears, you’re not gonna die, heh. You’re fuckin’ her good.”

That last praise is what causes Choso to slump forward against you and roll his hips harshly against you—followed by which is a thick spurt of cum as he finishes inside you with a broken groan pouring from his lips. All as Gojo keeps his thumb on your clit, despite his hand getting squished in between you and Choso’s body. 

Then Gojo smirks and leans in toward Choso again, “There ya’ go, good boy. Let it all out inside her. Jus’ like that…” 

You don’t think you’ve ever been this… ruined before in your life. Watching Gojo tease and praise Choso like that while you were still being fucked and your clit was being stimulated led to you abruptly squirting. Choso’s cock slips right out of you and Gojo removes his hand just so that both of them could watch you let out that filthy lil’ stream.

Choso’s completely out of it as he watches your pussy spasm wildly. “Holy…” He whispers, hardly able to finish the rest of his statement.

Gojo clicks his tongue, “Suguru didn’t tell us you were a squirter. Or, has he never made you do that before?” He asks, slowly lifting his eyes up to your face.

You look like you’re about to pass out, your body all sweaty as you lean back against the mirror again and pant heavily. “He… hah, f-fuck, h-he has.” You squeak out softly.

Gojo hums before looking back down, allowing Choso to step (stumble) back slightly past him so he can catch his breath. Then, once Choso is completely out of the way and the space between your legs is left vacant—Gojo lets out an alarming chuckle.

He watches the way Choso’s cum dribbles out of your overstimulated cunt, glob after glob leaking out so prettily that Gojo can’t help but crouch down to get a closer look. Your eyes lazily follow his snowy head of hair and watch as his face is repositioned in between your spread legs. He moves his gloved thumb to your pussy lips and sloshes that mix of you and Choso’s cum around against you. 

Then, Gojo flicks his gaze up to you and you gulp. He looks you dead in the eyes before spreading your lips further apart with his thumb and leaning forward. Your jaw drops in shock as Gojo cups his mouth against your pussy and suckles the mess from Choso into his mouth.

You whine, “S-Satoru—oh, w-wait,” You’re left gasping as you shoot a hand down to his hair and grip him tightly.

Gojo groans deeply and you feel his tongue lap against your saturated cunt leisurely. Moving up and down in a sloppy filthy manner, your legs are trembling while Gojo cleans you up casually. 

Choso’s sitting on the nearby toilet seat now, batting his lashes at Gojos actions in shock. “Satoru you… you know I just—“

“Mhmm,” Gojo mumbles into your pussy, pulling his lips back just barely to allow a cool slap of air to hit you. Then, he swallows. “You both taste really,” Gojo leans back in to kiss your cunt, “Mmph… fuckin’ sweet.” He murmurs against you before slithering his tongue inside you.

Your back arches and your legs move to close around his head as your fingers tug desperately on his locks of hair. “S’toru,” You mumble, “Fuck. Please… mgh, n-needa’ break. I-I can’t—“

Gojo tilts his head and smiles into your honeyed slick, “Sweetheart,” He rasps against you, suckling on your taste for a moment longer before pulling off with a wet pop! “I jus’ got here ‘n you want a break from me already?” He says, pushing out his bottom lip to pout. “That’s so mean.”

Before you even get the chance to argue with that, he’s diving right back in and eating you out like a man staved. Sucking, licking, kissing, spitting—Gojo’s between your legs in some kind of trance as he drools all over his current meal. He’s such a messy eater too, his actions quickly leading to the lower half of his face being coated with remnants of you.

After a bit, Choso seems to have collected himself and he’s soon standing up. His pants have been hastily pulled up and you’re too lost in the overstimulation Gojo’s giving you to realize Choso is approaching you too. When your eyes lift, you see Choso with his Ghostface mask back over his face and his phone held in his right hand.

Cocking his head to the side, he looms closer to Gojo and sneaks a, now gloved, hand into his bright white tufts of hair, prying his mouth away from your cunt with a harsh tug. You watch with teary eyes as Choso holds his phone up to Gojo’s face, and hums out a low, “Smile.” With the voice changer turned on.

Gojo sparks a toothy grin and his expression is all high in pleasure. He looks faded out of his mind, simply off of eating you out alone. The flash from Choso’s phone lights up the bathroom and within the picture he just took, only your legs are visible dangling over Gojo’s shoulders. They’d just recreated that infamous photo you see around this time of year all over your socials. Usually, the victim would be laid out stomach first on the floor and Ghostface would tug their head up by their hair but, this definitely works too.

“Atta’ boy,” Choso praises after he’s taken the desired amount of pictures. 

Gojo looks up to you and he’s pretty sure he can see little hearts in your eyes as you glance back and forth between him and Choso. “You don’t mind, do ya’? We wanna have somethin’ to remember this by,” He tells you.

You simply shake your head no and both of the men in front of you smile. Choso then nods his head a little before using his grasp on Gojo’s hair to shove him back down in between your legs—earning a surprised hum from your throat and a muffled groan from Gojo’s. 

Despite the little Surprise, Gojo gets back to work with his mouth and you end up leaning forward a bit in surprise. Choso moves over to the side a bit and he feels you drop a hand to Gojo’s head to give him a light push away so he can ease up on you. In contrast to this, Choso steals your attention by wrapping a free hand of his around your throat. Your eyes shoot up to him and you’re met with the eyes of Ghostface since he’s got the mask back on.

Purposefully, he does that head tilt again. So slowly does it tip to the side as Gojo’s teeth graze your clit, causing you to let out a pleasureful yelp. “Fuck!” You gasp, to which Choso removes his hand from Gojo’s hair.

Creeping up along your body, Choso grabs a greedy handful of your breast before leaning in. “That was loud, princess. You’re gonna get us all caught,” He snickers to you.

Your bottom lip quivers and you think the sight of it makes Choso feel bad. He takes his hand off of your tits for just a second to pull his mask up and then returns his gasp. Both of you have the same idea in mind but it’s you that reaches for him this time, tugging him in so that his lips can meet yours again.

And then it’s just sloppy from there on out. Anyone with ears could walk past that bathroom, or anywhere down stairs for that matter, and hear the sliding of lips over one another followed by gurgled gasps and barely muffed goans. Choso’s making out with you while he plays with your tits in his hands and Gojo’s still lost in between your legs.

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire and your head is beginning to spin from how good you feel everywhere. It only gets worse when the two start muttering praises out to you.

Dragging his lips down to your chest, Choso hushes out these elated whispers, “C’mon pretty girl, don’t tap out on us jus’ yet.”

Then there’s Gojo who moves to suck on your inner thigh. “Yeahh, don’t tap out. Let us make you feel good, baby.” He hums into your skin.

The counter beneath your ass is a slippery wet mess just like the bottom of Gojo's face and all the way down his neck with the way he let your juices trickle along his skin as he ate. All three of you get a little lost in the moment for quite some time. So much that you all seem to forget there’s supposed to be a third Ghostface.

Who, unknowingly, ends up silently opening the bathroom door and catching the way his two friends have his girlfriend all spread out ‘n ruined like some slut. Geto swore he almost came in his pants at the sight alone. You don’t seem to notice he’s standing there and you’re the only one facing him. His eyes are all over your wet expression, watching and listening to you moan two other guy’s names.

He didn’t even want to say anything. Geto just wanted to remain where he was and watch because lord knows if he joins in he won’t last longer than a few seconds. So, he does exactly that—going completely unnoticed there for a while. 

Up until Gojo pulls his mouth off of you for a second. He looks up to see Choso decorating your chest in hot kisses and wet hickies, the two of you constantly making eye contact with one another before he moves his lips to yours again. Fuck just watching you two was hot. So hot that it makes Gojo wonder where the hell his best friend is at and why he’s missing out on all this.

Which is what leads to him turning around to glance back at the bathroom entrance, quickly spotting Geto standing there leaning against the door frame. Well, shit. It’s in that moment that Gojo realizes he sees the appeal in the whole Ghostface thing because fuck is his best friend just as hot as everything and everyone else in this damn room.

After Gojo, you’re the next person to realize your boyfriend is now present, and then Choso seconds later. Each of you have this face as if you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to but that little detail is irrelevant given how Geto could care less about how he was the last to find you. And sure, he may have watched you run into the bathroom earlier and could’ve gone in there to scare you a while ago but, watching Choso and Gojo eventually find you and then listening to them interact with you from outside the bathroom was far more entertaining.

—

So, one thing led to another and…

You find yourself laid out in your bed all over again, this time accompanied with three men. Geto was the first to get himself situated—seating himself not too far away from the bed and telling you to “put on a show for him”.

By this point, who were you to even question him? If Gojo and Choso were leading things before, they damn sure aren’t now because it’s you who’s ordering them around and letting them know where you want them. Starting with you on all fours, showing off that arch that Geto has had you perfect over the years. Then your legs part slowly and Gojo’s behind you in a trance as he watches you move a hand to spread your cunt open for him.

“You spoil us, sweetheart,” Gojo rasps in a low pitch, voice slightly hoarse from how long he’d gone without talking earlier. 

You wanted to focus on him some more but a pair of fingers are placed on your chin and your face is quickly redirected to the second man of need. The moment your head turns, you’re met with Choso’s fat cockhead right in front of your face. Batting your lashes, you’re slow to look all the way up to him and see the way he’s smirking down at you.

“‘Could get off on that look alone, y’know.” Choso comments deeply in reference to your wide glossed over eyes and how close his tip is to your lips.

Gojo’s behind you frowning at the way Choso stole your attention yet again. In an attempt to, at least, have your mind on him once more, Gojo simply pushes his hips forward and eyes the sloppy part of your pussy spread against his pink tip. He hears it, Choso hears it, they all hear the way you gasp softly. It’s like they’re all hyper aware of every sound or slight movement you make.

Immediately after, your hips are wiggling back and Gojo’s quick to palm the fats of your ass. “Finally givin’ me some attention now, huh?” He quips.

You pull away from Choso’s touch just to look back at Gojo. “Suguru should’ve told you guys, I hate bein’ teased.” The way you force yourself back on him not even a second after that last word is leaving your lips has Gojo’s jaw falling and his fingers curling into your skin.

“W-Woah sweets, you could’ve warned me f-first…” He stammers, eyes dropping down to your greedy cunt swallowing up his lengthy inches of cock like it’s nothing. Gojo had to bite back a whine as he listened to the syrupy squelches that came with each backward push of your hips. “Fuuck, don’t stop. Give it t’me, baby.”

Gojo doesn’t even have to move yet and you’re already letting off a shaky moan, driving your hips back carefully and feeling him fill up every inch of your cunt. He’s all dazed while he watches his aching cock delve deep inside you, inch by inch—you take him like you were fuckin’ made for him. 

The man is just dazed. He understands why Choso said he was gonna die earlier becuase fuckin’ hell he’s not even all the way in yet and you’re already clamping around his veiny shaft with no intention of ever letting go. And the goddamn arch you have, they way your ass looks all pretty backing up against him—

Gojo’s thrusting forward before he even realizes he is and his hands slide up to your hips to hold you nice ‘n steady. Your legs shake and your jaw mirrors his with the way it just hangs open. Then there’s your eyes and the way they roll back, a delicious moan exiting from deep within your throat.

He definately fucks you harder than Choso was earlier because you can feel his cock everywhere—he has you so stupidly full and dumb on his dick within seconds, landing a mean hand down onto your ass amid his thrusts.

“Ohh fuck, Suguru y’had this pussy all to yourself all this time?” Gojo grunts. “…S-Selfish bastard.”

Gojo’s hands are arguably slimmer than your boyfriends but his grip on you is just the same. Hence why you can’t do anything as he tugs you back to meet his rough pounding. Hell, all you’re left with is a brain full of nothing as your head turns to face forwards and you unconsciously look up at a stunned Choso.

His hand is wrapped around his cock and despite being right in front of your face, he’s definitely jerking off to they way Gojo’s fucking you (or maybe just to Gojo himself, who knows). When Choso does look down, you see his brows twist up and his lips part.

Your mouth is already hanging open so clearly you’re silently offering to help him, right? Which is why he angles himself toward your gape mouth and grunts, “Open up f’me pretty girl, nice ‘n wide…”

And you do, widening your mouth for him to slide his cock in steadily. Choso hisses at the sensation, the underside of his cock gliding down the center of your slobbering wet tongue so lewdly that it makes his teeth grind together. God, if you weren’t every bit of perfect like this. He watches the way his dick fills your mouth and feels how ridiculously tight your throat is as he eases his hips forward.

Almost in unison, Gojo and Choso and up tossing their heads back—one letting out a guttural groan and the other releasing a sweet moan. You’re soaked just about everywhere. Your pussy is sobbing and dripping around Gojo’s cock and your mouth is hardly any better with the way drool is dribbling down from your chin and onto the bed.

All as your boyfriend is losing his ever loving mind. 

Geto came twice in his hand already and yet he’s still bucking his hips up into his fist. He’s never been this hard in his life. Something about watching you get absolutely ravaged by his two friends just make his dick throb in ways he cannot explain. You look perfect too, so damn angelic despite the rather sinful situation you’re in. There’s a creamy mess of cum slicked up and down Geto’s length from the thick tip to his base.

You’re busy getting fucked to tears (again) by Gojo and Choso, one of which has a heavy hand on your head encouraging your throat further around his curved cock and the other keep’s snapping his hips against your ass with his weighty balls grazing your clit every now and then. 

You’re all so screwed. This is like something straight out of a damn porno and yet you didn’t care. Hell, you could hardly fathom enough thoughts at the moment to care.

And of course all three of them are just babbling all sorts of things to you, teasing you, taunting you, making you dizzy with pleasure.

Gojo’s back there spreading your ass apart and watching how wet you’ve gotten his dick, smiling sinfully at the sight. “Look at this pretty girl,” He grunts, “Takin’ my cock so. fucking. well. ungh.”

Then there’s Choso, nodding along as if he agrees with Gojo’s groaned words. His fingers are buried into your hair and by this point he’s fucking your face at the same rate Gojo’s fucking your cunt. “Her throat’s even better—shit. Y’should see how her lips look wrapped around me right now. Especially when I get,” Choso pauses just to give his hips one tortuously slow push, making you deepthroat his angry cockhead. “Right here, f-fuck.”

Again, Geto’s on the side just losing himself at the moment. You make the mistake of glancing over at him and his eyes lock with yours. Geto’s bottom lip is quivering and you watch his hand jerk himself off faster, his legs shifting open and closed as he overstimulates himself. Some nerve you had to look at him as if you don’t have two cocks inside you right now.

“M’gonna cum,” Geto’s muttering to himself over and over in some fucked-out little mantra. 

Watching his head toss back and the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down is probably one of the sexiest sights. The Ghostface mask is all pulled up and his hair is splayed out in a mess of strands.

You end up gagging around Choso when Gojo hits your sweet spot for the sixth time in a row, your fingernails clawing against the sheets below. That’s all it takes for Choso to pull out and come undone all over your face without warning. In his defense, he wasn’t expecting your throat to tighten around him like that so suddenly…

Geto’s not too far behind, cumming in thick ropes with a sexy groan of your name leaving his lips—a sight you barely get to see because then Gojo’s leaning over you and your torso is suddenly pressed down against the bed for a moment. Then, you’re tugged up by a harsh grasp of your hair and Gojo’s fucking you even rougher than he was before, pressing his lips right against your ear.

“Fuckin’ slut,” He degrades so suddenly, wraping a free hand around your waist just to swat a finger over your clit again. “Look at this mess,” Oh, he’s just mean all of a sudden. Gojo lets go of your hair and turns your face toward him, leaning in and… licking the remnants of Choso’s release off of your face, again.

Your breath hitches and you wish you could have said something snarky but then you’re shoved right back down onto the bed. Gojo shifts his gaze to Choso, who flinches at the sudden eye contact, and then motions for him to come closer.

Once he does, Gojo grabs him by the jaw and pulls him in. “Open your mouth,” He breathes out hotly.

Choso bats his lashes at the man but doesn’t hesitate, parting his lips and taking the extra step as to sticking his tongue out. Gojo spits right onto the center of it and then smirks, “Good boy, now swallow it ‘n taste yourself f’me.” 

It’s right about then that you release for the nth time of the night, followed by you squirting again due to the exchange you just heard between those two men. Then, as you wait for the stars in your vision to clear out, you hear Choso gulp loudly.

Half-way smiling to himself, Choso scoffs. “Guess you were right… I do taste pretty sweet.”

A/N: ty guys so much for 6k followers here btw!! much love, mwah.

[juleswritesstuff]

Blind

james potter x reader

I saw that post right in the middle and I just had to.

Warnings: none (it's a bit suggestive, but nothing major)

You could live like this, you think.

It would truly be the best life ever in your humble opinion.

Sitting on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, holding on to him like a lifeline as your bodies fit perfectly like two pieces of a puzzle. His hands are all over your body, fingers exploring wherever they can reach before sneaking swiftly under your shirt to trace along the length of your spine, pads dancing on your soft skin and making shives erupt all over you.

And his lips. Oh God, his lips. 

James has the face of an angel, and the mouth of a demon. And you love it. You revel in the feeling of his lips claiming every part of you, every inch of flesh. They are soft and reverent and teasing and filthy, and in this moment they are devouring yours with a hunger that matches the fire blooming inside of you.

“You have no right to look this good” you whisper on his lips, biting his bottom one before swiping your tongue right over it.

You couldn’t help yourself when you saw him. All disheveled after quidditch practice with his hair still a little damp, the first three buttons of his shirt free, tie loose and crooked and a half smirk on that perfect face of his; knocking on your door completely clueless of the effect he had on you.

He looked like sex on legs. A literal sin in human form, and you were ready to fall from grace when it came to him.

“Didn't know post-quidditch me was so sexy to you” his voice has a little strain to it, breathless and teasing as his hands roamed all over your body.

You let out a breathless chuckle, hyper aware of every centimeter of him pressed against you.

“You have no idea” your hands get to work on his shirt, unbuttoning it as fast as you can, until his perfectly chiseled torso graces your eyes in its full glory.

Your mouth waters at the sight.

You slide the fabric off of his shoulders, brushing the smooth skin and feeling all those firm muscles that he hides behind his beloved sweatshirts, biting your lip as the flames inside your body grow hotter by the second. 

Your mouth latches to his once again, never having enough of his taste, of him.

He starts to lay down and you follow him, never breaking the embrace of your lips, intoxicated by the way his tongue caresses yours in the filthiest of dances. His back hits the mattress and you are fully all over him, chest to chest.

The kiss becomes messy, a clash of teeth and lips and tongues. You are sure the thing running through your veins is not blood anymore, but liquid fire, consuming every cell of your body and setting you ablaze with desire.

“Woah, you're fucking blurry” 

“Hold on, love. I have to-”

One of his arms leaves your waist and reaches up, until his fingers are wrapped around the slim, golden frame of his glasses, taking them off in a way that should be considered illegal in at least twenty countries. All smooth and seductive with that little grin of his.

God, he was so beautiful like this. All worked up and breathless, laying underneath you like the tastiest meal you ever had the pleasure to taste and-

For a split second the room falls silent, not a single sound can be heard inside those four walls.

You blink a few times, enough to let his words sink in.

And when they do you can't help but burst out laughing.

A real, genuine laugh coming straight from your belly and echoing through the room like you had just heard the joke of the century.

James’ eyes are wide in disbelief, flabbergasted by your reaction. But his mouth is stretched in an incredulous grin, sprinkled with a glint of mirth as he himself can’t stop the chuckle bubbling in his throat.

“Are you making fun of my blindness ? How cruel, Y/N” there is not an ounce of offense in his tone, just light-hearted and hilariously exaggerated teasing.

“Me ?” the fake and over the top innocence in your voice makes him smile even harder, the little dimple on his left cheek that you adored so much peeking through. You dip forward, leaving a kiss on those dreamy lips of his before whispering right against them “I wouldn't even dream of it” 

“Oh, you wouldn't ?” he cocks a perfectly arched brow in a challenging and yet adorable manner, eyes sparkling with mischief as his fingers start poking at your ribs, making you squirm and giggle like a middle schooler.

“No ! No, no, no ! Jame-”

He is laughing too, now. Glasses back in their place and eyes glistening with joy and pure adoration as he looks at you struggling not to lose a lung from the almost hysterical shriek coming from your lips at the ticklish attack he had you under.

You are so focused on not collapsing from the laughter and the skillful way his fingers move in every place he knew was the most ticklish for you, that you don't even register the way his hands suddenly stop.

They land on your hips, holding them in a delicate but firm grip, and, before you know it, you are being flipped over. Your back makes contact with the mattress of your bed as the delicious weight of your boyfriend’s sculpted body settles over you. 

You let out a yelp of surprise at the sudden change of position, a sound that threatens to turn into a full moan considered your current situation.

James is now on top of you, and the breath almost gets knocked out of your lungs as you admire him in his full glory.

His hair is wild and messy, but they frame his face in a way both so beautiful and so sexy that it makes your heart stop beating and your body run hotter. His eyes are still crinkled up in the ghost of a smile, but the haziness in them, that glint of adoration and reverence as he looks at you through his eyelashes, renders you speechless. His golden specks are hung a bit low on the bridge of his nose, giving him an adorable but mouth watering beautiful look. His lips are curled up in a half smile, playful and gorgeous and so, so incredibly sensual that you are not even sure if he knows the power that mouth has on you.

“Cat got your tongue, love ?” he brushes his nose with yours as he murmurs the question right on your lips, leaving a kiss on your cheek right after.

You wish you could just function like a normal person and tell him that, no, your tongue is definitely still in its place and it works perfectly fine, thank you. But your boyfriend is shirtless on top of you, with your legs still wrapped around his hips and that deadly handsome grin plastered on his face. Suddenly, the only thing you can think about are some other couple of ways in which your mouth could definitely be useful. 

“I-” you gulp loudly as you try not to drool at the sight of his muscles flexing right before your eyes “-what ?”

He lets out a chuckle, his head hung low as his shoulders shake with laughter. His wild locks tickle your chin and you can feel the ghost of his smile pressed lightly on your collarbone

You can’t help but follow him as the delightful sound of his laugh echoes through the room, spreading a warmth in your heart that you had never felt before meeting James.

When he lifts his head back up and his eyes find yours again, all sparkling with joy and fondness, you really think your heart is seconds away from bursting in your chest.

“Am I really that distracting ?” there is still a hint of that cocky smirk on his face, but it fades into something sweeter as he catches the light blush blossoming on your cheeks.

“You know perfectly well that I stop functioning properly when you are on top of me, Potter” your grumbling tone doesn’t faze him one bit, he just dips his head lower and captures your lips in a searing kiss.

“Really ? I hadn’t noticed” the unimpressed deadpan look you give him makes him chuckle again and you can feel the vibration right on your chest with how close he is.

“Sorry, sorry” his laughter dissipates, replaced by a more relaxed smile.

“If it’s of any consolation-” the hand not busy holding his upper body up and preventing his full weight to be laid on you, reaches the supple flesh of your thigh, letting his fingers dance on the exposed skin as they please “-my brain stops working, too” 

His mouth starts a journey that begins on your lips and slowly and tortourously ends on your neck, which seems to be his favorite place to worship to make your brain short-circuit.

“Mmh, does it actually ?” you don’t know how the hell you manage to let a single word out, especially in that teasing tone, as you are sure nothing except pure filthy sounds threaten to come out of your throat.

He grins against your skin before lifting his head up once again.

“Oh, trust me. It does” he whispers sensually against your lips “In every position you have me in”

Yes, you could definitly live like this.

I am not sure if I am a 100 % satisfied with this, but I tried my best.

I hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading 💗

[donatellawritings]

Rich to me is always the friends to lovers (everybody sees it but you two) it’s him yelling “behind” at everyone but sliding behind you with a hand on your hip “behind sweetheart” it’s you walking into the group of boys smoking outside & u bypass everyone to grab a smoke straight from his lips “thanks babe” it’s family having no empty chairs at the table so you sit on his lap while Syd & carm just stare. I think you’d bring my wish to life beautifully written. I need all the build up to the smut

can i just say that richie is definitely the type to be a jagoff to everyone, but never to you - everyone else knew how to work his last nerve, but you and your cutesy smile and bright eyes would make him all warm and fuzzy for sure

explicit sexual content ahead

it was no secret to anyone who worked at the restaurant (or had eyes) that you and richie had a ‘special’ kind of relationship. for starters, it wasn’t common for a hotheaded man, like richie jerimovich, to be so touchy and lovey-dovey with anyone. i mean, not even his ex-wife got to see that side of him often, and they shared a child. however there was something about you that just made richie feel as though he needed to be around you, protect you, handle you tenderly.

maybe it was because you were younger than him - fuck if he knew, all richie knew in his heart of hearts was that he had it bad for you.

things between you two started off gradually, “gotta get past you, sweetheart,” the older man rasped, the warm and calloused palm of his hand gently cradling the small of your lower back as he made his way past you, his tall frame easily reaching over you to grab ahold of a pot from the top cabinet.

you’d simply nod wordlessly, keeping your eyes trained forward in an effort to conceal the blush that rose to your cheeks.

after weeks of comfortability that increased between the two of you, you decided you’d test the waters. you’d watched carefully as he made his way out of the back door that led behind the building of the beef. quickly scanning over the not-so-busy environment of the restaurant, you walked away from the cash register, towards the back exit of the beef.

“i’ll be back in ten!” you called out, earning a mumble of approval from carmy and sydney who were entirely too engrossed in a conversation about expanding the menu.

the moment you’d exited the restaurant, the unforgiving cold winter chicago air bit at you, causing you to hiss as you quickly folded your arms tightly over your chest, your fitted ‘the beef’ t-shirt lifting a bit as you turned to find richie leaned against the brick wall.

he was so rugged and laid back, it drove you insane. his hoodie remained open, revealing the matching t-shirt that clung to his slim abdomen, one of his hands shoved in the pocket of his adidas track pants, while the other held a cigarette to his lips. richie didn’t notice your presence yet, too involved in a conversation with sweeps and marcus.

you’d decided it would be the perfect time to push the envelope, walking directly past marcus and sweeps as you approached richie, a flutter now swirling in your stomach as he raised his eyebrows at you, cigarette loosely held between his sharp teeth.

you two held eye contact for a beat, before you gently grabbed the cigarette from his mouth, before raising it to sit sit between the swell of your lips, taking a quick pull from the cigarette, “thanks babe,” you exhaled with a sweet close-mouthed smile.

all richie could do was swallow thickly, nodding to himself before he returned his attention back to the conversation at hand, softly swatting the side of your thigh when he decided that it was time for you to return the cigarette.

it was then, that things started to reach a whole new level of touchiness and couple-like actions between you and richie.

today was family. your second-most favorite day of the week, aside from payday. you were a bit late to the function, courtesy of your hair appointment, walking into the main room of the restaurant, instantly being greeted with a chorus of differing ‘hello’s’.

“hi, m’sorry for being late, my hair girl was late!” you rushed to explain, shrugging off richie’s your zip-up hoodie as you glanced around the room, seeing that all seats were occupied, “oh.”

sydney’s eyes widened as she shared the same realization, “fuck, uh, maybe we can get you an extra seat from the office, i-” she began, taking a bit too long, leaving richie no choice, but to come up with a solution of his own.

“s’nothing syd, she can sit with me,” richie spoke with a careless shrug, his mouth full of pasta as he looked up at you, swallowing his food before continuing, “c’mon, sweetheart.”

you obliged, your lips suddenly running dry as you walked towards richie’s seat, softly grabbing his outstretched hand as he gently guided your hips to sit comfortably against his.

you slightly shifted your hips, sending a shock to your clit as his bulge deliciously sat flush against your ass, “thanks, richie,” you muttered, focusing your gaze on the pasta dish that sat before you.

richie leaned back into his seat, the suddenly awkward silence of the dining room now becoming a bit too apparent to him. shaking his head, richie kept one of his arms loosely hung around you, before clearing his throat.

“yo, i don’t know why the fuck everyone is being fuckin’ quiet,” he huffed, his eyes now landing on carmy and sydney, before he sighed, “cousin, just say what the fuck you’re grateful for already!”

it wasn’t long before everyone returned to their normal conversations, about twenty minutes passing, before richie decided to lean in close to you, bringing his lips to your ear.

“m’ready to get the fuck outta here.”

and that’s how you ended up in the driver’s seat of richie’s car, his seat fully reclined back, one hand gripping the back of your neck, while the other guided your hips to bounce hard against his.

“ah, fuck - y’gonna make me cum in you if you keep fuckin’ me like that, sweetheart,” richie groaned, moving the hand that guided your hips to your back, pushing you further into his chest as he fucked up into you.

your face was in his neck, throaty moans and gasps leaving your lips as you sloppily kissed and sucked at the skin of his neck, the sound of your hips slapping into each other mixed with the squelch and slurp of your wet pussy taking his length leaving you a needy mess.

you were so close to reaching your peak, your pulsing hole clenching around richie’s dick as his thrust remained forceful and rough, “i can fuckin’ feel you around me, baby, y’want me to make you cum, yeah,” he chuckled, leaning his head against the headrest as he brought his hand to your hip, grinding your hips flush against his in circular motions.

“fuck, richie,” was all you could mewl through your gritted teeth, your stomach tight as your clit rubbed against the wet skin of his pelvis.

“keep ridin’ me, sweetheart,” he whispered, pecking your flexed temple as he forced your hips deeps against his, “just keep fuckin’ ridin’ me.”

yeah, your relationship with your coworker was far from orthodox, but neither of you seemed to get enough of it. nor, did you want to.

[johnbrand]

Silver Fox News

Out of breath, Richie shut the door behind him. The sun was already shining into his childhood home, the suburban frame one he had seen little of over the last four years. With his college a few states over, Richie was practically only home for the holidays, spending his summers at local internships that kept him away from where he grew up. He did not have anything against his town, or his dad for that matter; he had simply always been too busy. And now, freshly graduated and without a job quite yet, Richie had returned for the time being.

“Dad?” Richie called out, searching the kitchen. Typically, his father waited for him once he got back from his morning run, seated at the counter with a morning coffee and whatever protein-stuffed breakfast appeased him. But now, Richie could not find his dad anywhere.

“Scott?” Richie tried, but no response. Sweat dribbled down his lean, hairless frame. He liked to keep slim and clean-looking, knowing it was attractive for the men he usually slept with. While quite the flirt back in his college town, Richie had yet to hook up with anyone at home. He still had not had that talk with his father yet.

Richie scouted a bit longer, eventually finding his father in the master bedroom. Digging through his closet, Scott seemed to be tossing out all his blue clothing. Anything remotely near that shade even. After another “Dad?” Richie finally caught his father’s attention. Richie had only been home for a few days now, but he had never seen his father so invested in a task and yet, so out of it completely.

“Have you watched the news this morning, son?” Scott asked, to Richie's surprise.

“Uh, no…?”  The sweat had already dried against his exposed frame by that point, so without bothering to take a shower, Richie followed his father out into the living room. He just hoped whatever it was his father wanted him to see would be short, as he was practically naked besides his running shorts. Grabbing the remote, Richie did not expect the first channel to be a Fox News affiliate.

“Really, dad?” Richie questioned. He had never placed his father as the conservative type. He had typically been more independent, while Richie’s perspective was wholly liberal. It was a bit strange to see the network, but maybe Scott had changed while he had been away in college. Speaking of which, had his father always been so salt-and-peppered on top? Richie also took a moment to appreciate his father’s musculature, which he had somehow not noticed until now.

Richie returned his eyes to the screen. On top of the typical Fox News logo was the word “Silver” in an old fashioned font. And instead of the typical newscasters, stories, and lineup, there was just a slide displaying some text. 

“Thank you for tuning into Silver Fox News. Your program will begin shortly.”

“Did you buy some kind of premium subscription?” Richie openly questioned his father, who seemed to be absorbed by the television. “Okay, you got me in front of the news; what did you want to show me?”

Richie’s answer came quickly. The text disappeared, revealing a simple red spiral with flashing commands. It was not anything special, but it was enough.

“Pretty colors…swirling…” Richie slurred after a minute, his tongue becoming heavy in his mouth. “Soothing, silky…the spiral is so…hot…I love…the spiral…I love this feeling…I listen…to the spiral…”

When major research institutions began to announce their predictions of voter turnout for the upcoming election, alarms began to ring off within the Republican party. An assumed 41 million Gen Z voters would be hauling into polling stations, with numbers as high as 43% confirmed to be liberal. It was a staunch difference, one that many leaders could not accept. So instead of following the traditional tactics to sway voters like they had in the past, they decided to take a new route. Why sway voters, when you could make them?

Thanks to the research and funding of a certain well-known tech billionaire, the necessary resources were simple. Leaders believed that the easiest way to eliminate the problem was by creating the solution in the most efficient way possible. Social aspects would include basic background, education, and upbringing. Physical aspects would manage age, size, and demographic. Mental aspects would focus on tradition, individuality, and compliance. But the beauty of it all was that the programmers did very little of the work. Instead, they simply utilized the victim’s preconceived notions.

“What does…being Republican…mean to me…?” Richie drawled, his voice having dropped an octave since the program began. Instead of installing a literal trigger into the victim, the channel exploited the stereotypical beliefs victims already held. “I must become…Republican…that means…middle-aged…suburban…uneducated…Christian…”

As Richie chanted his prejudices out like a spell, his body was subsequently altered. His age more than doubled, ripping away the hair from his head and leaving the beginnings of a horseshoe to splatter the rest across his body. Wrinkles and age lines began to form, but so did musculature as his body beefed up, becoming stronger in the way that most Conservative men naturally are. Daily maintenance of a large suburban home did that to a man after all. 

“Traditional…simple…heterosexual…” Richie continued as a beard formed around his lips. His past was rewritten to better fit the portrait he was painting. Sundays in church, dropping out of high school to later receive a GED, working hard to earn his privilege and not understanding why it was handed to others. Fear of God, fear of big government, fear of outsiders influencing how things were. Disgust for “progress,” disgust for pronouns, disgust for sexual interactions with other males. Pride in his country, pride in being a male, and pride in taking nothing from nobody.

“...handsome…masculine…arrogant…” Before this had all began, researchers already knew that many of their victims would end up the same, as the stereotype of the average Republican was firmly held. What they had not predicted however was the amount of people who held hidden desires for this “average Republican.” A hypothesis arose quickly: if the liberal holds stronger prejudices, then they will become a more attractive Republican. “...alpha…virile…superior…” The choice of naming their channel "Silver Fox News" had been an appropriate one.

Richie, or Dick as he would now be referred to, would certainly provide further evidence to support their theory. As the program finished, the new, Republican silver fox readjusted back into reality, finding his best bud Scott standing before him. Dick could not remember what had just happened, but he liked what Scott laid out as a plan for the rest of the day. Work in the garage for a few hours, run out and purchase the new Trump propaganda, and then end the night at a Hooters. Dick could not decide which part of the plan he would enjoy the most, but clutching his massive pouch, he knew which he was most excited for.

[annievrse]

joyride

chuuya x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: you and chuuya go for a drive w/c: 1.2k c/w: suggestive [mdni], reader gets called wife & good girl heh a/n: obvi inspired by kesha's joyride

“We're going for a drive.”

Chuuya gives you no room to decline as he unlocks the car Mori provided for the mission and slides into the driver's seat. You stand staring at the red car. Of course, it's red. A red Ferrari, at that. You roll your eyes at the unsubtly and open the passenger's door.

The mission was tough, and you assume Chuuya needs to drive the anger out of his system. Usually, you wouldn't encourage such destructive behaviour, but you can't help the giddy feeling rising in your chest when your boyfriend drives.

The 812 purrs to life, and Chuuya grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. He'd slid his coat and gloves off before you got in, sitting in his crisp white dress shirt. You inhale deeply, reaching over to slip his hat off his head. Orange locks fall free and frame his face. You place the hat in your lap and thread your fingers through his hair. Chuuya says nothing, but you know he appreciates the affection.

As industrial streets slimmed into the flat countryside, paddocks stretched like a midnight quilt stitched together with wire fences. The moon provides little light behind the clouds as the road fades into the night, and the reflective broken lines fly by in flashes. Driving on country roads at this speed is stupid and dangerous, but you feel like you are flying; it is almost freeing. Besides, when Chuuya drives, you feel at ease. You trust him more than yourself, especially with the addition of Upon the Tainted Sorrow.

The car is warm despite the cool air conditioning, and you squirm in your seat. Chuuya accelerates when he passes the final car on the stretch of the road. Natural gravity forces you back into your chair, your stomach rolling with adrenaline and fear. You can't look over at Chuuya, so you stare straight ahead with a smile etched on your cheeks. 

You are hyperaware of Chuuya's movements. He changes gears fluidly and turns corners smoothly; you can't help but admire his handiwork. You glance at the odometer, reading 160 on the dial, and your stomach lurches. Silhouettes of trees pass like ghosts, and your hands sweat where they rest on his hat. You were never good with being in fast cars, but having a boyfriend and a best friend who loves being behind the wheel was something you had to digest quickly. 

“You good?” Chuuya's breathless voice cuts through the thick air. Your head turns toward him. You try not to speak while he drives this fast, 125mph. Instead, you nod.

“Use your words, I can’t look at you.” His eyes remain on the dark road. You tongue the inside of your cheek, a smirk on your mouth.

“Yeah, I’m okay," You sigh. Your stomach churns as the road curves, and your hands are firm on your legs. 

Chuuya shakes his head and paws at your thigh quickly before he places it back on the gear stick. Goosebumps rise on your skin, and you look over at him. He's so devilishly handsome that you feel you may sin if you dare to look at him, even after all this time. Strands of red hair fall lazily over his forehead and blow softly in the air conditioning.

As Chuuya turns a corner faster than recommended, you quickly lift his hat and fit it over your head.

"You're gonna kill me," Chuuya mumbles, sparing a glance in your direction. His cheeks are rosy, even in the midnight light. Your eyes flicker to his full and pouty lips, the shade of rich wine, and then to his lean biceps strained against his white dress shirt as he straightens his arms to stretch out. "Definitely gonna be my wife."

Your face feels like fire at his muttered words, and you whine in response. "Stop teasing."

"You stop teasing," Chuuya mutters. "Makin' me hard."

Your skin gets impossibly hotter. "You're crazy."

He scoffs and turns his head to look at you. The car is flying down the road, and you pretend to ignore the red aura of his ability around the vehicle. You meet his gaze, turning your whole body toward him.

"And whose fault's that?"

You shrug. "Dazai."

Chuuya chokes on a surprised laugh, and you smile when he turns his attention back to the road, disgust making his lip curl.

"Don't speak about him when I just told you I'm hard."

Your eyes flicker to the strained fabric of his black slacks.

"I'm not giving you head when you're going 200mph."

Chuuya rolls his eyes and uses his right hand to fix his crotch. You cover your laugh with your hand and turn to look out the window.

“Home?” Chuuya asks, his voice laced with desperation. The car should be going slower since you entered residential streets, but due to his predicament, you guess he doesn't care.

"Yep."

“Okay," He swallows, running a red light. "We're sleeping in my bed tonight."

You laugh and take his hand when it returns to your lower thigh. “I want the left side.” 

The car finally lurches to a stop at a red traffic light, and Chuuya gives you an incredulous look. “No fucking way, that’s my side. You know that.”

If you hadn't shifted the tone of the conversation, you doubt you'd be sitting at this light. You shrug and place his hand on the gear stick. “Guess I'm sleeping in my bed, then."

You see him roll his eyes in your peripheral as you stare at the traffic light impatiently. Chuuya sighs dramatically, and when you glance over, you see him torn between pouting and glaring. But you remain impartial, nodding forward once when the light turns green. 

“You’re so…” Chuuya trails off, shaking his head and putting his foot down. A ghost of a smile plays on his lips.

“Careful,” You warn playfully, and he shoots you a dark look as the silence thickens with tension. 

“You’re so pretty it hurts, darling,” He clutches his chest. "Especially with my hat on."

You laugh, tipping the brim. "It definitely looks better on you. I don't think it suits me."

Chuuya's expression morphs into a scowl. "Shut the fuck up, or I'll make you."

"Chuuya!" You giggle, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Don't piss me off with that shit talk, alright?"

You purse your lips to suppress a smile. As he puts the car in park, his grey eyes find yours in the dark. His hat sits tilted on your head, and Chuuya doesn't believe he's ever seen anything as beautiful in his life. The feeling makes his chest hurt.

"Alright?" He repeats, but his voice is void of the previous sharp tone.

You lean forward and press your mouth against his. Chuuya's hand slides to your neck, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You pull back and watch through lidded eyes as he chases your lips. After one last peck, Chuuya kisses both of your cheeks and falls back in his seat.

"Good girl."

[nevernonline]

✧.* the pages of us; jww

synopsis: Wonwoo, a quiet and introspective writer, stumbles upon The Reading Nook, a small, tucked-away bookstore owned by Y/N, a passionate book lover. their shared love for literature draws them together, but the secrets hidden within the bookstore’s collection may hold the key to both their futures.

paring: wonwoo x fem! reader. 

genre:strangers2whatever  

warning/s:mentions of substances (alcohol), death of a parent.

word count: 15k

content: . non-idol idolings

note: non rlly edited prob weird typos, xo. 

The autumn wind tugged at Wonwoo’s jacket as he walked aimlessly through unfamiliar streets. The world around him buzzed—cars honking, people chattering—but his mind was elsewhere, tangled in unwritten sentences and half-formed ideas. When he saw it, he stopped.  

Nestled between a bakery and a flower shop was a small bookstore, its wooden sign swinging gently in the breeze: The Reading Nook. The warm glow spilling through the windows beckoned him, promising sanctuary. Without hesitation, he stepped inside.  

A bell jingled as the door closed behind him, and the city’s noise melted away, replaced by the soft hum of jazz. The scent of aged paper and faintly spiced tea wrapped around him like a blanket. The space was a labyrinth of towering shelves, cozy armchairs, and scattered stacks of books.  

Behind the counter, a young woman sat perched on a stool, engrossed in a book. Her oversized sweater hung loosely around her frame, and a pencil peeked out from behind her ear. A steaming mug sat within arm’s reach. At the sound of the bell, she looked up, her eyes meeting Wonwoo’s.  

“Lost?” she asked, a hint of teasing in her tone.  

He hesitated. “Uh, No. Not really. I just needed a change of scenery.”  

Her smile widened. “Well, welcome to The Nook. Are you looking for something specific, or do you prefer letting the books choose you?”  

He shrugged, glancing around. “I’m not sure. Inspiration, maybe. I’m a writer. Or trying to be.”  

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “A creative soul, then. I love to see it.” She closed her book with a soft thud and hopped off the stool. “Lucky for you, this place has a knack for unsticking writers. Come on.”  

She led him past rows of novels and poetry collections to a corner that seemed quieter, almost sacred. Pulling a worn book from the shelf, she handed it to him. “This one’s a personal favorite. It might be just what you need.”  

Wonwoo flipped through the pages, his fingers brushing the edges of faded paper. “Thanks,” he murmured, though something on a lower shelf caught his eye.  

“What’s that section?” he asked, pointing to a small, tucked-away shelf labeled Oddities & Curiosities.  

Her laugh was soft and warm. “Oh, that’s the fun shelf. A collection of random finds—some rare, some downright strange. Wait here.”  

She crouched down and pulled out a slim, weathered journal bound in dark leather. She placed it in his hands, her expression thoughtful. “This is special. It’s been here forever. People call it the Muse’s Journal. Writers seem to like it. It’s basically a sacred text.”  

The leather was cracked with age, the pages filled with scribbled notes, odd sketches, and cryptic messages in faded ink. One phrase in particular caught his eye:  

“Every ending is a beginning in disguise.”  

He ran his fingers over the words, as if they might dissolve. “This almost feels like it’s meant for me.”  

She watched him, her gaze softening. “It tends to have that effect.”  

Their eyes met for a brief moment, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Then she broke the spell, gesturing toward the counter.  

“Let me ring those up for you.”  

At the counter, she slipped a hand-drawn bookmark into the journal before sliding it toward him. “Consider this a welcome gift,” she said with a smile. “Don’t be a stranger—I want to hear how it goes.”  

He nodded, tucking the journal and bookmark into his bag. “Thanks... Y/N,” he said, glancing at the nameplate on the counter.  

The bell jingled as he stepped out into the crisp autumn air. Inside, Y/N lingered by the counter, her fingers brushing the edge of her mug. She found herself wondering about the quiet writer who had wandered in, carrying stories he wasn’t ready to tell.  

Wonwoo’s apartment was small and spare, its corners cluttered with books and scattered drafts of his unfinished manuscript. The city hummed outside, but within the four walls, it was quiet—too quiet. He dropped his bag onto the table and pulled out the journal Y/N had given him, the leather cover cool under his fingertips.

He opened it carefully, the faint scent of old paper filling the room. The handwriting inside was uneven, a mix of bold, confident strokes and faint, hurried scrawls. Sketches of stars and swirling patterns filled the margins, and snippets of phrases seemed to leap from the pages:

To find the ending, look within.

Time folds like pages.

You already know the answer.

Near the middle, he found a folded scrap of paper tucked between the pages. Carefully, he opened it. Written in the same hurried scrawl were the words:

The key lies where the light breaks.

Wonwoo tilted his head, puzzled. It felt like a puzzle piece, disconnected but tantalizing. He sat down at his desk, pulled out his laptop, and opened the document containing his manuscript. His fingers hovered over the keyboard.

For weeks, he’d stared at this screen, unable to write. But now, the words in the journal buzzed in his mind, stirring something deep within. He scrolled to the last paragraph of his story and began to type. Slowly at first, then faster.

The narrative began to flow, his characters moving through the scenes as if they’d been waiting for him to find his way back. The world outside faded as Wonwoo lost himself in the story.

The bell above the door jingled softly as Wonwoo stepped into The Reading Nook for the second time. It was raining outside, the kind of steady drizzle that dampened everything except his resolve to return. He shook off his umbrella by the door and glanced toward the counter, where Y/N was scribbling something in a notebook.

She looked up at the sound of the bell, her expression shifting from focus to a faint smile. “Back already?”

Wonwoo shrugged, setting his messenger bag on the counter. “The journal,” he said simply, pulling it out and sliding it toward her. “It’s... strange, but I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s like it knows what I need to hear before I do.”

Y/N’s fingers brushed the journal as she picked it up, her movements slow, almost reverent. “That’s what people say about it,” she replied, her tone measured. “It has a way of finding the right person.”

Wonwoo tilted his head, catching the flicker of something in her voice—hesitation, or maybe unease. “You’ve had it for a long time, haven’t you?”

She nodded, her gaze lowering to the journal. “It was one of my mother’s finds. She used to say every book had a soul, but this one...” She trailed off, her expression softening as if caught in a memory. “This one feels alive.”

Wonwoo hesitated before asking, “And the notes inside? Like this one.” He unfolded the small slip of paper he’d found tucked in the pages. “What’s ‘where the light breaks’ supposed to mean?”

For a moment, Y/N’s guard slipped, her brows knitting together in a way that told him she knew more than she was letting on. Then, just as quickly, she recovered, flashing him an enigmatic smile. “Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe it’s a metaphor. Writers love their metaphors, don’t they?”

Wonwoo gave a small laugh, though her deflection left him unconvinced. He decided not to press further, sensing that whatever secrets she was guarding weren’t ready to be shared.

“Mind if I stick around for a while?” he asked, changing the subject.

Y/N gestured toward the back of the store. “Go ahead. There’s some nice spots in the back corner by the staircase.”

Wonwoo found his favorite armchair nestled in the back corner of the store, near a shelf overflowing with worn poetry collections and dog-eared philosophy books. He placed the journal on the small table beside him and opened his laptop.

As the hours slipped by, the steady rhythm of rain against the windows created the perfect backdrop for writing. Y/N occasionally passed by, carrying stacks of books to reshelve or pausing to check in on him.

“How’s it going?” she asked during one of her rounds.

He glanced up, smiling faintly. “Better. The words are coming easier today. It’s strange—I haven’t felt this focused in weeks.”

Y/N arched a brow, setting a mug of tea on the table beside him. “Maybe it’s the bookstore’s magic,” she said lightly, though there was a touch of sincerity in her voice.

“Maybe,” he agreed, taking a sip of the tea. It was spiced and warm, the perfect antidote to the cold rain outside.

Y/N leaned against the edge of the shelf, her arms crossed. “What’s the problem anyway? Plot? Characters? Dialogue?”

“All of it,” he replied, gesturing helplessly at the screen. “It’s like I’ve forgotten how to write.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “Want to try an exercise? Something I do when I’m in a creative rut?”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow. “You write?”

“I dabble,” she said with a shrug, though a faint blush crept up her cheeks. “Mostly for myself. But the exercise works. Close your laptop.”

He hesitated but followed her instruction, snapping the laptop shut.

“Now,” she continued, “pick a random object in the room. Anything.”

Wonwoo glanced around, his gaze landing on an antique globe sitting on a nearby shelf. “That.”

“Perfect,” Y/N said, pulling up a chair and sitting across from him. “Tell me about the person who owns it. What do they do? Where have they been? What’s their story?”

Wonwoo blinked, caught off guard by the simplicity of the prompt. Slowly, he began to speak. “They’re... an explorer. Someone who’s seen the world but is always looking for something they can’t quite find. Maybe it’s a place, or a feeling, or—”

“A person,” Y/N interjected softly, her eyes meeting his.

“Yeah,” he agreed, his voice quieter. “A person.”

They shared a small smile before Y/N stood, brushing her hands on her sweater. “See? You’re not blocked—you’re just overthinking. Write like that, without the pressure.”

Their conversations began to spill beyond writing. That evening, after the store had emptied out, Y/N brought over not two mugs of tea this time, but two glasses of whiskey chilled with a thick cut ball of ice and sat beside him in his corner.

“What’s your story, Wonwoo?” she asked, breaking the companionable silence.

“My story?” he repeated, taking a sip of the drink to buy time.

“Yeah,” she said, tucking her legs beneath her. “You know all these characters and worlds, but what about you? What made you want to write in the first place?”

He hesitated, her question striking a chord. “I think It’s the only way I know how to make sense of things. Of people. Writing lets me put the world into words, even when it doesn’t make sense in real life.”

“That’s beautiful,” she said softly.

He gave her a shy smile, unused to such direct praise. “What about you? Why books?”

Y/N leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting to the shelves around them. “Books were my escape growing up. My mom used to say a good story could take you anywhere, even if you couldn’t leave where you were. She started this place so people could find those stories.”

“Did you always know you’d take over?” Wonwoo asked.

“Not at first,” she admitted, tracing the rim of her mug. “I thought I’d do something else, but when she passed, I realized how much of her was here. Keeping the store alive felt like keeping her alive, too.”

Her voice wavered slightly, and Wonwoo reached out instinctively, his hand brushing hers. “She’d be proud of you,” he said gently.

Y/N looked at him, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thanks, Wonwoo. That means a lot. To creative breakthroughs,” she said, raising her glass.

“And to mysterious journals,” Wonwoo added with a smirk, clinking his glass against hers.

The whiskey was smooth, warming him from the inside out. He leaned back in his chair, feeling the tension of the day melt away.

“Once,” Y/N said, swirling the amber liquid in her glass, “a guy came in asking if we sold books printed on edible paper. Said he wanted to consume knowledge literally.”

Wonwoo laughed, nearly spilling his drink. “Did you find him anything?”

“I tried to sell him a cookbook. He wasn’t amused.”

He shook his head, still grinning. “This place must be full of stories.”

“It is,” she said, her voice softer now. “But not just the ones on the shelves.”

“What do you mean? 

Y/n smiled, shaking her head slightly. “I feel like all of my core memories were here. WIth my mom. With customers just like you, I read about sex for the first time here with my friends just spending our day giggling at the words, I had my birthday parties here, all of that. When I was younger I thought there was something hiding beneath the walls of the bookshelves like a treasure hunt. I even drew my own map, all of it. It’s just something special.” 

Wonwoo’s grin softened as he leaned back in his chair, his glass of whiskey resting loosely in his hand. He took in Y/N’s wistful expression, the way her eyes shimmered with nostalgia. “That’s really beautiful,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It sounds like this place has always been more than just a bookstore for you.”  

Y/N laughed softly, a touch of self-consciousness in her tone. “Yeah, it’s kind of silly, isn’t it? Most people probably see it as just another store, but to me…” She gestured around them, her hand sweeping across the shelves and corners bathed in golden light. “It’s everything. A home, a memory box, a time machine, even.”  

“You made a treasure map?” he asked, his lips twitching into an amused smile.  

“Oh, yeah,” Y/N said, her cheeks flushing. She sat up straighter, miming the act of unrolling a scroll. “I was convinced there were secret passages hidden in the walls or, like, a chest buried under the floorboards. I even roped my friends into searching for hours. We’d sneak around with flashlights after the store closed, trying not to get caught.”  

“Did you ever find anything?” Wonwoo asked, playing along.  

She smiled mischievously. “Well, I did find an old tin box stuffed behind a loose board in the back. Turned out to be a stash of my mom’s notes and doodles from when she was designing the store. She’d drawn all these little floor plans and written these whimsical ideas for themed sections. It was like finding a treasure, but instead of gold, it was her imagination.”  

Wonwoo’s brows lifted in surprise. “That sounds even better than gold.”  

“Yeah,” Y/N murmured, her voice softer now. “It was.”  

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The store felt alive around them, the silence filled with the weight of its stories. Wonwoo glanced toward the rows of shelves, his gaze lingering on their uneven, timeworn edges.  

“You’ve spent your whole life here,” he said finally, his tone contemplative. “It’s like you and this place are woven together.”  

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”  

“Isn’t it?” he asked, his dark eyes meeting hers. “You’ve built something that carries so much meaning—not just for you, but for everyone who steps through that door. I mean, look at me. I was completely lost, and this place pulled me in. It’s rare.”  

Her smile returned, small but genuine. “You really think so?”  

He nodded without hesitation. “I do. And I think your mom would be proud of what you’ve done with it.”  

Y/N’s fingers tightened around her glass for a moment, her gaze dropping to the amber liquid inside. “That means a lot.”  

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. “What about you, though? What’s your version of a treasure map? Did you ever have a place like this growing up?”  

Wonwoo paused, considering the question. “Not really. My family moved around a lot, so I never had the chance to get attached to any one place. But I guess that’s why books became so important to me. They were the only constant.”  

“Did you have a favorite?”  

He chuckled, the sound soft and low. “I had a beat-up copy of The Little Prince. I carried it everywhere. The pages were falling out by the time I hit high school, but I couldn’t let it go. It felt like it understood me in a way nothing else did.”  

Y/N smiled, her eyes lighting up. “That’s one of my favorites too. It’s so simple, but it stays with you.”  

“Yeah,” he said, his expression turning thoughtful. “I think that’s what I want my writing to do. I want someone to pick up my book and feel the way I felt holding that one—like it’s speaking directly to them.”  

“That’s a pretty amazing goal,” Y/N said. “And if your manuscript is anything like the pieces I’ve seen you scribble on napkins around here, you’re on your way.”  

Wonwoo laughed, feeling his cheeks heat under her praise. “Well, that’s high praise coming from the owner of the coziest, most magical bookstore in the city.”  

“Oh, we’re the only magical bookstore in the city,” Y/N quipped, raising her glass in mock toast.  

“Fair enough,” Wonwoo said, clinking his glass against hers again.  

The night deepened, the whiskey bottle slowly emptying as their conversation wandered from books to music, from childhood memories to dreams they hadn’t dared to share before. The air between them grew warmer, the initial reserve giving way to an easy intimacy.  

By the time the clock struck midnight, Y/N found herself leaning against the arm of her chair, her head resting on her hand as she watched Wonwoo animatedly describe a scene from his favorite film. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so at ease with someone.  

Wonwoo caught her gaze and paused mid-sentence, his smile softening. “What?”  

“Nothing,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “Just you talk about stories like they’re alive. It’s nice.”  

He tilted his head, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, with a quiet sincerity, he said, “I think it’s because they are. And you—you’re part of why I’m starting to believe in them again.”  

Her breath caught, the weight of his words settling in her chest. For once, she didn’t know what to say, so she simply smiled, the corners of her lips curving upward as warmth spread through her.  

Outside, the rain began again, tapping lightly against the windows, as if the universe itself were trying to write the next chapter of their story.  

The clock on the wall chimed softly, breaking the stillness. Y/N glanced at it and sighed. “We should probably call it a night. I have to open up in the morning.”

“Right,” Wonwoo said, though he was reluctant to leave.

As he gathered his things, Y/N walked him to the door, her steps slow.

“Thanks for staying,” she said as he shrugged on his coat.

“Thanks for the whiskey,” he replied with a smile. “And for letting me hijack your bookstore every day.”

“You’re not hijacking it,” she said, her tone warm. “You’re just  adding to its story.”

He paused, her words settling in his chest like a quiet truth. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Wonwoo.”

As he stepped out into the cool night, he couldn’t help but glance back at the softly glowing windows of The Reading Nook, already looking forward to returning to its quiet magic—and to her—tomorrow.

The morning at the store was unusually busy, with regulars and passersby drifting in and out. The faint hum of chatter and the occasional scrape of chairs filled the air, blending with the soft jazz playing from the speakers. Y/N moved easily between the shelves, offering recommendations and ringing up purchases with her usual calm efficiency.

Wonwoo arrived just past noon, carrying the journal tucked under his arm. He pushed the door open and was greeted by the cheerful jingle of the entry bell. Y/N, stationed behind the counter, looked up and gave him a warm smile.

“Back so soon?” she teased.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he replied, returning her smile as he made his way to his usual spot in the back corner.

But today, instead of pulling out his laptop, Wonwoo placed the journal on the table and opened it. His fingers traced the faint ink of the unfamiliar handwriting as he flipped through the pages, his brows furrowed in concentration.

After the rush died down, Y/N joined him, carrying two steaming cups of coffee. She placed one beside him and leaned against the edge of the table. “You’ve been staring at that thing all week,” she said, nodding at the journal. “What the hell is so fascinating about it?”

Wonwoo looked up, his expression thoughtful. “It’s strange. The more I read it, the more it feels like the writer was leaving clues for someone, almost like they wanted to be found.”

Y/N’s curiosity piqued. She pulled up a chair, sitting across from him. “What kind of clues?”

He turned the journal toward her, pointing to a section where a paragraph had been underlined. “Here, for example. The writer talks about a ‘hidden heart’ beneath the shelves, something meant to outlast them. And here—” He flipped a few pages, showing her a sketch of what looked like a rough map. “This is a drawing of something, but I can’t figure out what. It’s like they were mapping out a part of the store.”

Y/N leaned closer, her brow furrowing. “Let me see that.” She studied the map, her fingers brushing the edges of the page. The sketch showed a series of lines and rectangles, vaguely resembling the layout of the bookstore, with an X marked near the back wall.

“That’s... odd,” she murmured. “It does look like the store, but this corner doesn’t exist anymore. My mom remodeled years ago to add the café section.”

“Could there be something behind the wall?” Wonwoo asked, his voice low with intrigue.

Y/N bit her lip, considering the possibility. “Maybe. But I don’t remember her ever mentioning anything like that.”

They spent the next hour poring over the journal together, comparing the map to the store’s current layout and trying to piece together the cryptic notes scribbled in the margins. Phrases like “For the dreamers who wander” and “Seek, and you will find” were scattered throughout, written in a looping, elegant script.

“This feels like something out of one of your novels,” Y/N said, glancing at Wonwoo with a small smile.

“I know,” he replied, his excitement evident. “It’s almost too perfect.”

“But if there’s something hidden, why hasn’t anyone found it before?”

“That’s what we need to figure out,” he said, standing abruptly. “Where’s that back corner? The one your mom remodeled?”

Y/N hesitated but stood as well, leading him toward the café section. They stopped in front of the wall that now housed shelves of cookbooks and travel guides.

“This is where the X would be,” she said, gesturing toward space. “But if there’s anything back there, it’s been sealed up for years.”

Wonwoo ran his hand along the wooden paneling, his expression thoughtful. “It wouldn’t hurt to check, right?”

Y/N disappeared into the back room and returned with a small step ladder and a flashlight. Together, they began carefully inspecting the wall, knocking on the panels and listening for any hollow sounds.

“Here,” Wonwoo said after a few minutes, tapping on a spot near the floor. The sound was noticeably different, dull and hollow compared to the rest.

Y/N crouched beside him, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and apprehension. “You think that’s it?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

They worked together to carefully remove the lower panel, revealing a small recess hidden behind it. Inside was an old, dust-covered wooden box, no bigger than a shoebox.

Y/N’s breath hitched. “Oh my God.”

Wonwoo reached in and gently pulled the box out, placing it on the floor between them. It was heavy, the wood worn and etched with faint carvings of stars and vines. A small latch held it shut.

“Do we open it?” he asked, looking at Y/N.

She nodded, her hands trembling slightly. “We have to.”

As Y/N stared at the box and its mysterious contents, a nagging thought began to creep into her mind. She looked at the map again, then at the journal, then at Wonwoo. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Wait a second,” she said, her tone suddenly sharp. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

Wonwoo blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“This.” she gestured at the journal and the box, her voice rising slightly. “This whole... treasure hunt. It’s because I told you about my stupid childhood treasure map last night, isn’t it?”

“What? No fucking way.” Wonwoo said, his brows knitting together in confusion.

Y/N stood and crossed her arms, glaring down at him. “It’s just too convenient, okay? You show up here with this mystical, cryptic journal I gave you, right after I tell you how I used to dream about finding treasure in this store. And now, look. We’ve ‘found’ a hidden box in the wall? What are the odds of that, Wonwoo?”

Her words hit him like a slap, and he rose to his feet, looking genuinely hurt. “Y/N, I’m not making this up,” he said, his voice steady but defensive. “Why would I even go through all this trouble just to mess with you?”

“I don’t know.” she snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “You’re a writer. Maybe you thought it’d be funny, or it’d give you material for your next book?”

“Seriously?” he asked, his tone incredulous. “You really think I’d fake something like this? For what? A laugh?”

Y/N hesitated, suddenly unsure. Her anger fizzled as quickly as it had flared, leaving behind an uncomfortable mix of embarrassment and guilt. She bit her lip and glanced at the box again, its contents undeniably real.

“Well,” she muttered, her voice quieter now. “It just seems too perfect. Like something out of one of your stories.”

Wonwoo sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his expression softening. “I get it. It does feel like something out of a book. But that’s what makes it so amazing, Y/N. It’s real.”

She looked at him, searching his face for any sign of deception. But all she saw was sincerity—the kind that made her chest tighten.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, her voice small. “It’s just…this place means a lot to me, and I guess I got defensive.”

“It’s okay,” he said gently. “I get why you’d be suspicious. But I promise, this journal, this box—it’s as much of a surprise to me as it is to you.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath and sat back down, feeling the tension drain from her shoulders. “I guess I owe you the benefit of the doubt,” she said with a sheepish smile. “You’re not exactly the pranking type.”

“Thank you,” Wonwoo replied, his lips quivering into a small smile. “Although now I kind of wish I had thought of this. It’s a pretty great story.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Don’t push it.”

Inside the box, they found an assortment of items: a stack of faded letters tied with a silk ribbon, a small leather pouch filled with pressed flowers, and a single gold key. At the very bottom was a handwritten note on yellowed paper.

Y/N picked it up and unfolded it carefully, her eyes scanning the elegant script.

“For those who cherish stories: The heart of the dreamer lies not in the treasure itself, but in the act of seeking. May you find what you didn’t know you were looking for.”

The note was signed with her mother’s name.

Y/N stared at the signature, her throat tightening. “She left this here,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Wonwoo placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “She wanted you to find it.”

Y/N blinked back tears and looked at him. “But what does it mean? The key, the letters... What was she trying to tell me?”

“I don’t know,” Wonwoo said softly, “but I think we’re only just beginning to understand the story.”

They sat there in the quiet of the bookstore, the mystery unfolding around them like the opening pages of a long-lost novel. The key glinted in the soft light, a silent invitation to continue the journey.

After a moment of silence, she reached for the journal again, turning it over in her hands. “So... if you’re not messing with me, what do you think this all means? The key, the letters, the note...”

“I don’t know,” Wonwoo admitted, crouching beside the box once more. “But I think your mom was trying to leave you something—not just in the literal sense, but maybe a piece of herself. Maybe she wanted you to find it when you were ready.”

Y/N’s gaze softened, her fingers brushing over the note. “She always did love a good mystery.”

“Well, lucky for you, you’ve got a mystery writer here to help,” Wonwoo said with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “All right, detective. Where do we start?”

Wonwoo held up the gold key, letting it catch the light. “With this,” he said simply.

The gold key gleamed under the soft light of the bookstore, its intricate details catching Y/N’s eye. It was old, heavy in Wonwoo’s hand as he turned it over thoughtfully.

“So,” he began, “any idea what this might go to?”

Y/N shook her head, her brow furrowing as she stared at the key. “Not really. It’s not from the register, or the front door, and it doesn’t look like any of the locks I’ve seen around here. It’s  too decorative.”

Wonwoo placed the key on the table, its metallic clink filling the quiet space. “Could it belong to something in the back room? Maybe there’s an old chest or cabinet hidden back there.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. “There is an old storage cabinet in the back, but it’s just filled with leftover inventory and random junk. I don’t think it even has a lock anymore.”

“Well,” Wonwoo said, standing up and grabbing the key, “let’s find out.”

The two of them moved through the store, weaving between shelves and heading toward the back room. Y/N flipped on the overhead light, revealing a space cluttered with boxes, stacks of old books, and various odds and ends that had accumulated over the years.

“There,” she said, pointing toward a tall wooden cabinet tucked against the far wall. It was scratched and weathered, its once-polished surface dulled by time.

Wonwoo approached it, crouching to examine the hardware. “Looks like it used to have a keyhole, but it’s been replaced with this newer latch.” He stood and glanced around the room. “What else could it fit?”

Y/N frowned, scanning the room. Then her gaze landed on an old wooden chest half-buried beneath a pile of dusty books. Her heart skipped a beat. “That,” she said, gesturing toward it. “It used to belong to my mom. I haven’t opened it in years.”

Wonwoo crossed to the chest and carefully cleared the books away, revealing its ornate design. It was carved with swirling patterns and faint images of stars and moons—details that mirrored the etchings on the box they’d found.

“This has to be it,” he said, his voice low with anticipation.

Y/N knelt beside him, her hands trembling slightly as she handed him the key. “Go ahead,” she said.

Wonwoo hesitated for a moment, then slid the key into the lock. It fit perfectly, turning with a satisfying click. The lid creaked as he lifted it, revealing the chest’s contents:

Inside was a collection of items that seemed to have been frozen in time. There were stacks of faded photographs, a leather-bound notebook, and a small music box. Among them was a sealed envelope with Y/N’s name written in her mother’s handwriting.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She reached for the envelope, her fingers brushing the paper lightly before pulling it free.

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asked gently.

She nodded, though her hands were shaking as she opened the letter.

The letter was written in the same elegant script as the note they’d found earlier. Y/N’s eyes scanned the words, her voice barely above a whisper as she read aloud:

"My dearest Y/N, If you’re reading this, it means you’ve found the box and followed the clues. I always knew you would—your curiosity has always been your greatest strength. This store is more than a place for books; it’s a sanctuary for dreamers, just like you.

The chest holds pieces of my story, but it’s also a reminder to create your own. The key isn’t just for unlocking the past—it’s for opening doors to the future. Keep seeking, keep dreaming, and never stop believing in the magic of stories.

With all my love, Mom.”

Y/N’s voice broke as she finished the letter, tears streaming down her cheeks. She wiped at her eyes, laughing softly. “She always did have a flair for the dramatic.”

Wonwoo smiled, his own eyes glassy. “She sounds like an incredible woman.”

“She was,” Y/N said, clutching the letter to her chest. “And somehow, she still is.”

They spent the next hour carefully going through the chest. The photographs captured moments from her mother’s life: her standing in front of the bookstore on opening day, laughing with friends at a party, and sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by books, her smile bright and full of life.

The notebook turned out to be her mother’s journal, filled with musings about the store, her dreams for its future, and even sketches of book displays.

But it was the music box that brought the most unexpected surprise. When Y/N wound it up and opened it, a soft, haunting melody filled the room. Beneath the mechanism was a small, folded piece of paper.

Wonwoo picked it up and unfolded it, his brow furrowing. “It’s another map,” he said, holding it up for Y/N to see.

This one was simpler than the first, but it clearly pointed to a specific section of the bookstore: the poetry aisle.

“Of course,” Y/N said, shaking her head with a teary laugh. “That was her favorite section.”

“Looks like the treasure hunt isn’t over,” Wonwoo said, his smile growing.

Y/N glanced at him, her heart swelling with gratitude. “You really are enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Are you kidding?” he said, standing and offering her his hand. “This is the best story I’ve been part of in years.”

Y/N took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. “Then let’s go see what else she left behind.”

The poetry section was nestled in one of the coziest corners of The Reading Nook, lit by warm, golden light from an antique floor lamp. The shelves were crammed with well-loved volumes, their spines a kaleidoscope of faded colors. Y/N and Wonwoo crouched together, studying the map they’d found in the music box.

“It’s pointing right here,” Wonwoo said, tapping a spot on the map that corresponded to a low shelf at the far end of the aisle. “You think there’s something hidden behind the books?”

“Only one way to find out,” Y/N murmured, already reaching for a stack of slim poetry collections. She began pulling them off the shelf, careful not to damage the fragile covers.

Wonwoo joined in, working methodically as the gap widened. Behind the books, they found an old wooden panel, its edges rough and worn. A faint carving was etched into the wood—a heart with an arrow through it.

Y/N ran her fingers over the carving, her pulse quickening. “This has to be it,” she whispered. “It matches the note in the journal about the ‘hidden heart.’”

“Is it loose?” Wonwoo asked, leaning in closer.

Y/N pushed gently on the panel, and it gave way with a soft creak, revealing a small compartment. Inside was a folded piece of parchment and a brass locket.

She carefully picked up the parchment and unfolded it, her eyes scanning the page. Before she could fully process what it said, the jingle of the front doorbell shattered the quiet.

“Y/N?”

The voice was sharp, authoritative, and instantly recognizable. Y/N froze, her blood running cold. She turned slowly to see her estranged aunt, Evelyn, standing at the entrance to the poetry aisle. Evelyn was tall and impeccably dressed, her tailored coat and polished heels making her look as though she belonged in a boardroom rather than a cozy bookstore.

“Who’s that?” Wonwoo asked softly, sensing her sudden tension.  

“My aunt,” Y/N muttered, her voice tight. “And she doesn’t visit for small talk.”  

Footsteps echoed down the aisle before Evelyn appeared, impeccably dressed in a dark tailored coat and stilettos that clicked sharply against the hardwood. Behind her trailed a man in a crisp gray suit, carrying a leather briefcase. His expression was unreadable but efficient, like a man who had won many battles in court.  

Evelyn’s sharp gaze fell immediately on Y/N, then flicked to Wonwoo and the cleared shelf. Her lips twisted into a thin, mirthless smile. “Well, this is quite the scene,” she said. “Still playing your little bookstore games, I see.”  

“What do you want, Evelyn?” Y/N asked, her tone defensive as she stood, tucking the parchment behind her back. Wonwoo quickly picked up the locket and slipped it into his pocket, his movements discreet.  

Evelyn gestured to the man beside her. “This is Mr. Calloway, my attorney. I brought him here to settle some legal matters concerning this store.”  

“Legal matters?” Y/N repeated, her stomach knotting.  

“Correct,” Calloway said, his voice as polished as his appearance. He opened his briefcase and produced a stack of papers, handing them to Evelyn.  

Evelyn stepped closer, holding the documents out to Y/N. “This property is not yours outright, dear. It belongs to the family, and I’m here to claim my share. Effective immediately, I’ll be taking ownership and moving forward with plans to redevelop this space into something profitable. The bookstore has had its time.”  

Y/N’s jaw tightened as she refused to take the papers. “You can’t just walk in here and take the store. My mother left it to me.”  

Evelyn gave a small, cold laugh. “Your mother left behind a mess. Do you have any idea how much debt this place is in? How much is it bleeding every month? I’m doing you a favor, Y/N. You can’t save this place—it’s a relic.”  

Wonwoo stepped forward, his expression calm but his voice firm. “With all due respect, ma’am, this place is more than just a business. It’s a community hub, a home for people who need it.”  

Evelyn’s eyes flicked to him, her disdain palpable. “And who, exactly, are you?”  

“Wonwoo,” he said, offering a polite nod. “I’m a writer, and I’ve been spending a lot of time here. Enough to know how much this store means—not just to Y/N, but to the people who come here.”  

“Another dreamer,” Evelyn muttered, shaking her head. She turned back to Y/N, her expression hardening. “You can surround yourself with all the idealists you want, but it won’t change the facts. I’ve already spoken to the developers, and they’re eager to get started. Your little bookstore is standing in the way of progress.”  

“I won’t let you do this,” Y/N said, her voice trembling but resolute. “This place isn’t just mine—it’s my mother’s legacy. You have no right to take it away.”  

Calloway cleared his throat, his tone measured. “Legally speaking, your aunt does have a valid claim. Without a specific stipulation in the will granting you sole ownership, the property reverts to shared family rights. Evelyn has chosen to exercise her claim.”  

Y/N’s heart sank, but before she could respond, Wonwoo stepped in again. “That’s interesting,” he said, his voice smooth. “Because we just found something that might make things a bit more complicated.”  

Evelyn’s sharp gaze locked onto him. “What do you mean?”  

Wonwoo shot Y/N a subtle glance, silently urging her to trust him. “I mean, Y/N’s mom left behind a lot of things in this store. Memories, letters, documents. Who’s to say there isn’t something legally binding among them?”  

Y/N caught on quickly, her hand tightening around the parchment. “That’s right. My mom was meticulous—she wouldn’t leave this place unprotected.”  

Evelyn’s confident facade faltered for a split second, but she quickly recovered. “If you have something concrete, I suggest you present it to a lawyer,” she said coolly. “Until then, this store is mine to do with as I please.”  

Wonwoo moved to stand between Y/N and Evelyn, his posture calm but firm. “You’re not taking anything today. Not until we’ve had a chance to go through everything and get legal advice of our own.”  

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. “You think you can stall me?”  

“Not stall,” he said, his voice steady. “Protect what’s rightfully hers until the truth comes out.”  

There was a tense silence before Evelyn sighed dramatically, turning on her heel. “You have 48 hours to present proof. After that, I’m filing the necessary paperwork to take control.” She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze icy. “Don’t waste my time.”  

She strode out of the store, Calloway following closely behind. The doorbell jingled sharply as it shut behind them.  

Y/N slumped against the shelf, her breath coming in shallow gasps. “She’s serious,” she whispered. “She’s really going to try to take this place.”  

“She won’t,” Wonwoo said firmly, pulling the locket from his pocket. “Because we’re going to find out exactly what your mom left behind. And if there’s even the slightest chance this parchment can stop her, we’re using it.”  

Y/N straightened, her resolve hardening. “She’s not taking this store, Wonwoo. I don’t care what it takes.”  

He smiled faintly. “That’s the spirit. Now, let’s figure out what else your mom wanted you to find.”  

Together, they returned to the hidden compartment, determined to uncover the secrets that would save the bookstore.

The tension from Evelyn’s visit still lingered as Y/N and Wonwoo returned to the poetry aisle. Y/N’s hands shook slightly as she gently unfolded the parchment again, staring at her mother’s handwriting. Wonwoo sat beside her, leaning closer to read over her shoulder.  

The note was more cryptic than her mother’s previous messages, written in elegant script:  

"Look for the words that open doors.  

Find the book where the stars meet the sea,  

And inside, you’ll discover the key to everything."

Y/N exhaled sharply, brushing her hair out of her face. “What does that even mean? ‘The stars meet the sea’? It sounds like a riddle.”  

“It is a riddle,” Wonwoo said thoughtfully, his brows furrowing as he studied the note. “But it’s also specific. Think about your mom—did she ever talk about a particular book that had something to do with stars or the sea?”  

Y/N hesitated, her eyes scanning the shelves around them. “She loved poetry. And she had a way of finding meaning in everything. If this is a reference to a book, it’s probably one she treasured.”  

Wonwoo stood and began browsing the nearby shelves, running his fingers along the spines. “What about the ones she kept separate from the main inventory? Rare or personal copies?”  

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “The display case in the main room. She kept her favorite editions there.”  

The two of them hurried to the display case, a vintage piece with glass panels that housed a carefully curated selection of books. Y/N unlocked it with a small key she kept on her necklace, the faint scent of old paper wafting out as she opened it.  

“‘Stars meet the sea,’” Wonwoo murmured, scanning the titles. His gaze stopped on a slim, navy-blue book with a constellation design embossed on the cover. Where the Stars Meet the Sea, it read.  

“This has to be it,” Y/N said, reaching for the book. She opened it slowly, her breath catching as something fluttered out from between the pages and landed on the glass.  

It was a folded piece of parchment, similar to the others, but heavier this time. Wonwoo picked it up carefully, unfolding it to reveal a sketched blueprint.  

“This... is a layout of the store,” Y/N said, her eyes widening as she recognized the familiar shape of the rooms and shelves.  

Wonwoo pointed to a section marked with an X near the back of the building. “What’s here?”  

“That’s the storage closet,” Y/N said, frowning. “I’ve been there a million times. There’s nothing special about it.”  

“Maybe there is,” Wonwoo said, already heading toward the back. “Your mom clearly wanted you to find something, and I don’t think she’d send you on a wild goose chase.”  

The storage closet was cramped and cluttered, packed with old boxes and supplies. Y/N and Wonwoo worked side by side to clear the space, uncovering the back wall. That’s when Y/N noticed something strange: a faint seam in the wood paneling.  

“There’s something behind this,” she said, brushing dust off the edges.  

Wonwoo grabbed a nearby screwdriver and began prying the panel loose. It took some effort, but eventually, the panel gave way, revealing a hidden compartment built into the wall.  

Inside was a small wooden box, secured with a delicate latch. Y/N’s hands trembled as she unfastened it, revealing a stack of letters tied with a ribbon, along with an aged leather journal.  

“These are my mom’s,” Y/N said, her voice breaking. She picked up the journal, flipping through the pages filled with her mother’s familiar handwriting. “It’s... it’s like she’s talking to me again.”  

Wonwoo watched her quietly for a moment before speaking. “I think we should take a break. You’ve been through a lot today.”  

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. “But there’s so much to—”  

“Later,” Wonwoo interrupted gently. “Let’s take a minute to breathe. You’re not alone in this, Y/N. We’ll figure it out together.”  

She hesitated but eventually nodded. “Okay. You’re right.”  

Back in the main room, Wonwoo took it upon himself to lighten the mood. While Y/N sat curled up in one of the armchairs, he went to the small kitchenette in the back of the store. A few minutes later, he returned with two glasses of wine and a plate of crackers and cheese he had found in the pantry.  

“Wine and snacks,” he said with a soft smile, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “It’s not much, but I figured you could use something to take the edge off.”  

Y/N laughed softly, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “You really didn’t have to do this.”  

“I wanted to,” he said simply, handing her a glass.  

They sat in companionable silence for a while, sipping their wine. The quiet hum of the store enveloped them, warm and comforting.  

“This place really is magic,” Wonwoo said eventually, his voice soft.  

Y/N glanced at him, her heart tugging at the sincerity in his expression. “You think so?”  

He nodded, meeting her gaze. “It’s not just the books or the memories. It’s you. The way you talk about this place, the way you care about it... it’s inspiring.”  

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, her fingers tightening around her glass. “You’re just saying that.”  

“I’m not,” he said firmly. “You make this place what it is, Y/N. Your mom might have started it, but you’ve kept its heart alive. And I think that’s worth fighting for.”  

Her throat tightened at his words, and she managed a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Wonwoo. For everything.”  

“Always,” he said, his voice low and steady.  

For the first time that day, Y/N felt a flicker of hope. Whatever secrets her mother had left behind—and whatever battles lay ahead—she wasn’t facing them alone. And that made all the difference.  

Y/N leaned back in the armchair, swirling the last sip of wine in her glass. The dim light of the bookstore wrapped around them like a cocoon, soft and intimate. But the weight of the day still clung to her like a second skin—her aunt’s cruel words, the lawyer’s smug expression, the constant fear of losing everything.  

She sighed, staring into her glass. “I don’t get it. How can someone like Evelyn have the same blood as my mom? They’re polar opposites. My mom gave her life to this place, and Evelyn just... wants to turn it into concrete and drywall.”  

Wonwoo, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor near the armchair, tilted his head thoughtfully. “Your aunt is  something else, huh?” he said carefully, a hint of amusement in his voice.  

Y/N let out a sharp laugh, startled by his tone. “That’s putting it lightly.”  

“No, seriously,” he said, leaning forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. “She stormed in here like a villain from some soap opera. All she was missing was a dramatic evil laugh and a pet cat to stroke menacingly.”  

Y/N snorted, covering her mouth with her hand. “Stop it. She’s bad, but she’s not a cartoon character.”  

“Are you sure?” Wonwoo countered, his grin widening. “She walked in here with her heels clicking like a countdown to doom and a lawyer who looked like he was ready to auction off your soul. I half-expected her to twirl her hair and say, ‘You’ll rue the day you crossed Evelyn!’”  

That did it. Y/N burst out laughing, the tension in her chest loosening with every chuckle. She doubled over slightly, her glass wobbling in her hand.  

Wonwoo sat back, clearly pleased with himself. “See? Laughter’s good for stress. And let’s face it, your aunt is absurd enough to be a villain in one of those cheesy romance novels you keep tucked in the corner.”  

Y/N wiped at her eyes, still giggling. “You’re not wrong. She’s dramatic enough to fit right in.”  

“And her lawyer?” Wonwoo continued, warming to the subject. “He had the personality of an empty notebook. No offense to him, but I’ve seen potted plants with more charisma.”  

She laughed harder, almost spilling her wine this time. “Okay, okay, now you’re being mean!”  

“It’s not mean it's true,” he teased. “Seriously, though, who shows up with a lawyer for a family dispute? It’s like she planned this whole takeover with a PowerPoint presentation and a laser pointer.”  

Y/N leaned back into her chair, her laughter quieting to a soft, lingering smile. For the first time all day, she felt like she could breathe. “You’re ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head.  

“But I’m helping,” he said, a boyish grin lighting up his face.  

She nodded, warmth blooming in her chest. “You are. More than you know.”  

There was a brief pause as they locked eyes, the humor fading into something quieter, more intimate. Wonwoo’s expression softened, his voice dropping to a gentle tone.  

“Your aunt might be a lot to handle, but she doesn’t define you, Y/N. Or this store. You’re stronger than she is, and you have something she’ll never understand—passion. You care about this place. That’s why you’ll win.”  

Y/N’s smile wavered, her eyes shimmering with emotion. “Thank you, Wonwoo. I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”  

He reached over and gently plucked the glass from her hand, setting it aside. “You’d figure it out. You’re pretty incredible, Y/N. I’m just here to remind you of that.”  

She felt her cheeks flush, her heart thudding in her chest. “You’re really good at this whole pep talk thing.”  

“Years of practice,” he said lightly, leaning back with a small smile. “But honestly, it’s easy when it’s you. You make it worth it.”  

The warmth in his words settled over her like a comforting blanket, and for the first time in days, she felt the storm inside her quiet.

Y/N grabbed the wine bottle from the kitchenette, glancing over her shoulder at Wonwoo, who was sprawled lazily on the floor with his glass in hand. “Alright, Mr. Mysterious Writer. If we’re going to drink more wine, you’re spilling some juicy secrets.”  

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Secrets? What makes you think I have any?”  

“Oh, please,” she said, settling down across from him with a grin. “You’ve got that whole brooding, quiet thing going on. There’s definitely something juicy under there.”  

He chuckled, shaking his head as she refilled their glasses. “I think you’re overestimating how interesting I am.”  

Y/N leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “Try me. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”  

“Embarrassing?” he echoed, groaning dramatically. “You’re really starting with the hard-hitting questions.”  

“Absolutely,” she said with a smirk. “This wine isn’t free, you know. Payment in absolutely cringe-worthy stories, please.”  

Wonwoo took a sip of his wine, stalling as his ears turned faintly pink. “Fine. When I was in college, I joined a karaoke contest because my friends dared me. I thought I was nailing it—singing my heart out to some cheesy pop song. Turns out, the mic was off the whole time, and everyone was just laughing at me lip-syncing like a maniac.”  

Y/N burst out laughing, nearly spilling her wine. “No way. What song was it?”  

He winced, looking away. “...‘Call Me Maybe.’”  

Her laughter doubled, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Stop. Stop it right now. I’m picturing you doing those little hand motions for the chorus.”  

He groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Why did I agree to this?”  

“Because you secretly love making me laugh,” she teased, nudging his knee with her foot. “Okay, next question. What’s the most rebellious thing you’ve ever done? Please tell me it’s not sneaking a library book home after hours.”  

Wonwoo smirked, tilting his head. “First of all, that’s a perfectly respectable crime. Second, I did once skip a whole semester of lectures to follow a girl I liked to a different city.”  

Y/N’s mouth dropped open. “Wait—seriously? You followed her?”  

He shrugged, his grin turning a little sheepish. “It wasn’t as creepy as it sounds. We were kind of seeing each other, and she was moving away for an internship. I thought it was romantic at the time.”  

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up.” Y/N said, laughing as she set her glass down. “What happened?”  

“She broke up with me two weeks later,” he admitted, his tone dry.  

She gasped, clutching her chest like it physically hurt. “No! That’s awful.”  

“It was definitely character building,” he said with a dramatic sigh, earning another laugh from her.  

“Okay, last one,” she said, leaning closer with a sly smile. “Do you have any current crushes? Like, hypothetically, someone who owns a charming little bookstore and drinks wine with you at two in the morning?”  

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. “Hypothetically? Are we talking about Evelyn?”  

Y/N smacked his shoulder lightly, her laugh bubbling over. “Oh we’re definitely talking about Evelyn. I feel like you have a thing for terribly evil women who’d be mean to you, like a kink or something.”  

He chuckled, his eyes sparkling as he leaned toward her slightly. “I usually do. But, I don’t know, Y/N. Shouldn’t the question be... do you have a current crush? Someone who maybe sings ‘Call Me Maybe’ like their life depends on it?”  

Her cheeks flushed, but she kept her grin. “I don’t know, Woo. That doesn’t really sound like my type.”  

“Oh, really?” he said, his tone playful. “What’s your type, then?”  

She pretended to think, tapping her chin. “Hmm... someone who doesn’t follow girls to other cities or embarrass themselves at karaoke contests.”  

“God the pain,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest like she’d wounded him. “Guess I’m out of the running.”  

She smiled, her gaze softening just a bit. “Not necessarily. You’ve got other redeeming qualities. Like pouring wine which is an important one. At least to me.”  

His grin widened, and he lifted his glass in a mock toast. “Well, I’ll take that as a win.”  

Their glasses clinked together, and as they drank, the teasing energy between them lingered, warm and electric, filling the quiet bookstore with something that felt a lot like possibility.  

Y/N grabbed the wine bottle, a mischievous glint in her eye as she refilled their glasses. Wonwoo watched her curiously, his grin still lingering from their back-and-forth.  

“Alright, my turn,” he said, leaning back on his elbows. “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever done in this bookstore when no one was around?”  

Y/N froze mid-pour, her face immediately turning red. “Oh no. Nope. No way in hell. Not telling you.”  

Wonwoo straightened, his smirk growing as he caught the look of panic on her face. “Oh, come on. You can’t not tell me after that reaction.”  

“It’s not even that bad,” she tried to brush it off, waving a hand as if swatting his question away.  

“That means it’s terrible, and now I have to know,” he teased, his eyes narrowing playfully. “What did you do, Y/N? Did you accidentally set a book on fire? Did you steal candy from a kid? Spill it.”  

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Ugh, fine! But you can’t laugh.”  

“No promises,” he said immediately, leaning forward with interest.  

She peeked out from between her fingers, sighing dramatically before finally admitting, “Okay. When I was like thirteen, I... I used to practice kissing on the spines of the books.”  

Wonwoo blinked. “What?”  

Her face turned crimson. “You heard me.”  

It took a second for it to register, but then Wonwoo doubled over laughing, his shoulders shaking as he nearly spilled his wine. “The spines? You made out with the books?”  

“I was thirteen!” she squealed, trying and failing to stop herself from laughing too. “And my friends had all kissed someone, so I panicked! I thought—‘I need to practice!’ And the books were there. Don’t judge me.”  

Wonwoo fell back against the floor, wheezing between bursts of laughter. “Oh my god—what books? Please tell me it was like an encyclopedia.”  

She shot him a glare, though she was laughing too hard to look serious. “No. It was whatever I could reach. Mostly YA romances, okay? I thought maybe the romance would transfer through the spine or something.”  

“You were out here trying to absorb love through osmosis?” he gasped, holding his stomach as he laughed.  

“Yes.” she said, her voice high-pitched from embarrassment. “I don’t know how I thought it worked.”  

Wonwoo sat up, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “Y/N, that’s—that’s the greatest thing I’ve ever heard. I’m never going to be able to look at these books the same way again. Like how can I pick one up without wondering if your lips touched it.”  

“I hate you,” she said, burying her face in her hands again. “I should’ve taken that secret to the grave.”  

“Oh, absolutely not,” he said, grinning. “This is prime blackmail material. Just wait until you’re being all serious about the store one day, and I remind you of your spine-kissing phase.”  

She peeked up at him, her lips quaking into a smile despite herself. “You wouldn’t dare.”  

“Try me,” he said smugly, raising his wine glass like a toast. “To Y/N, the Bookstore Casanova.”  

“I’m never telling you anything ever again,” she muttered, shaking her head as she took a sip of her wine.  

“Too late. I’m already your confidant,” he teased, leaning closer with a smirk. “But for the record, I think as a teenager you were pretty resourceful. I mean, who needs practice with people when you have books?”  

“Exactly.” she said, pointing at him with mock seriousness. “See? You get it.”  

“I don’t,” he admitted, laughing again. “But it’s endlessly entertaining.”  

Y/N groaned, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “You’re the worst.”  

“And yet, here you are—drinking wine with me. But, tell me, do you think the kissing books hacked helped?” he shot back, his eyes twinkling.  

“I don’t know? I’ve never kissed myself? Honestly I haven’t kissed someone since my last relationship which was..” Y/n pretended to flip through her imaginary calendar. “Two years ago?” 

“Interesting no one ever confirmed it.” 

She shook her head, muttering, “Regretting this more by the second.” But her grin gave her away, and the lighthearted energy between them filled the quiet bookstore with warmth—like something rare and perfectly imperfect, just like their ridiculous conversation.  

Wonwoo’s teasing grin softened slightly as he tilted his head, watching her with a flicker of something warmer in his gaze. “Two years, huh?” he said, his tone quieter now, though the playful glint in his eyes lingered.  

Y/N shrugged, trying to brush it off. “What can I say? I’ve been busy running a bookstore and, you know, kissing spines.”  

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “That’s a real tragedy, though. All that practice, and no one’s benefited from it?”  

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” she said, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress the heat creeping up her neck. She raised her glass to her lips again, trying to hide behind it.  

Wonwoo set his own glass down on the table beside them, leaning forward slightly. “You know,” he said, his voice dropping just enough to make her pulse quicken, “I could help with that.”  

Her breath hitched, and she lowered her glass, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Help with what?”  

He shrugged one shoulder, the corner of his mouth twitching into that faint, irresistible smirk. “You know. Test out whether all that spine-kissing really paid off.”  

Her laugh came out more like a nervous squeak, and she immediately covered it with a cough. “You’re insufferable, Jeon Wonwoo.”  

“And yet, you’re still here,” he echoed his earlier words, his gaze holding hers now with a steady intensity that made her heart thud painfully against her ribs.  

For a moment, the world outside the bookstore seemed to vanish, leaving only the golden glow of the little lamp, the lingering scent of old paper and wine, and the space between them that suddenly felt charged.  

“You’re not serious,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.  

“Maybe I am,” he said simply, his smirk softening into a small, almost shy smile.  

Before she could overthink it—or talk herself out of it—he leaned closer, his eyes flickering down to her lips and then back up to meet her gaze. He paused there, just inches away, waiting.  

Her breath caught, and something about the way he was so close, so patient, made her feel brave. “Wonwoo,” she murmured, a smile tugging at her lips. “Are you trying to be smooth?”  

“Is it working?” he asked, his voice warm and teasing, but his gaze was sincere.  

She didn’t answer, at least not with words. Instead, she closed the gap, brushing her lips against his in a tentative, featherlight kiss.  

It was gentle at first—soft and unhurried, like they were both figuring out how this was supposed to feel. But when he cupped her cheek with his hand, tilting her face slightly, the kiss deepened, and Y/N felt her heart flutter in a way it hadn’t in a long time.  

When they finally pulled back, just enough to catch their breath, he was smiling, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek.  

“So,” he said, his voice still low and warm, “was it worth the two-year wait?”  

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head as she rested her forehead against his. “I don’t know yet,” she teased. “Might need more data to be sure.”  

His grin widened, his eyes crinkling in that way that always made her stomach flip. “I think that can be arranged.”  

And in the quiet, cozy little bookstore, with books watching silently from their shelves, Y/N had the distinct feeling she’d just uncovered the most unexpected treasure of all.  

The next few days passed in a blur of wine, laughter, and quiet moments shared between Y/N and Wonwoo. The chemistry between them seemed to grow with every secret they uncovered in the bookstore, every old clue leading them deeper into the mystery of the hidden treasure. But there was something else too—a shift, a quiet understanding that their connection had changed from something purely fun and teasing to something more real, more complicated.

The bookstore had become their shared sanctuary—where clues were scattered in dusty corners, and where they spent hours combing through old journals and books in search of the final pieces of the puzzle. Every clue brought them closer to something monumental, but with each step forward, Y/N’s estranged aunt Evelyn seemed to grow bolder, more determined to shut the whole thing down.

On one particular evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the bookstore was bathed in the soft glow of lamplight, Y/N and Wonwoo found themselves in a small, cluttered storage room hidden at the back of the shop, sifting through yet another pile of old papers. The room was quiet, save for the sound of rustling pages, the occasional clink of glasses, and the low hum of conversation between them.

Y/N paused, eyes scanning a faded letter that had caught her attention. "Wait, this is it," she said, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper and smoothing it on the table. "This has to be the deed."  

Wonwoo looked over her shoulder, his hand instinctively resting on her back. "Are you sure?"  

"I’m pretty sure," she muttered, tracing the yellowing edges of the paper. "It’s an old deed, but it looks like it’s in my name—well, my family's name, technically. It’s the bookstore's legal deed."  

Wonwoo leaned closer, studying the document with a frown. “This is the real thing,” he said, his voice almost reverent. “This could be the key to everything.”  

Y/N smiled, but her heart was still heavy with worry. "Yeah, but Evelyn’s not going to give up. She’s already trying to pressure me into selling. And she has a lawyer with her now. They’ve already threatened to drag me to court."  

Wonwoo straightened, his gaze sharpening. “Then we need to make sure she doesn’t get her hands on this.” He grabbed the deed and tucked it carefully into his jacket pocket.  

Y/N stared at him. "You’re not seriously thinking of hiding it, are you?"  

“Not just hiding it,” he said with a smirk. “I’m going to make sure it’s safe. If she’s going to play dirty, then so are we.”  

With that, he walked over to a small cupboard, pulling out a set of old, heavy keys. "I know a place. You trust me, right?"  

Y/N hesitated but then nodded. "I do.”  

Their hands brushed as he passed her the keys, and Y/N couldn’t help the way her heart skipped a beat. Wonwoo had been a constant presence since they’d started this treasure hunt, a calm and steady anchor in the chaos of relentless threats. And as much as they were both focused on the task at hand, Y/N couldn’t ignore the way their connection had deepened—the way her heart beat faster every time he was near, the way his presence made everything feel safer.  

As Wonwoo led her out of the room, they were interrupted by the sound of the front door slamming open, followed by the sharp click of heels on the hardwood floors. Evelyn’s voice rang out, cold and sharp.  

“Y/N, I know you’re here. We need to talk."  

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, and she exchanged a brief, tense glance with Wonwoo before they both hurried to the back, hiding the deed for the time being.  

“I’m not letting you get away with this.” Evelyn continued, her voice laced with venom. “I will take everything from you if I have to, including this bookstore. Your parents’ legacy won’t mean anything if you don’t sell to me.”  

Y/N’s jaw tightened. “Evelyn, you don’t own this store. You never will.”  

“Oh, we’ll see about that.” Evelyn’s laugh was cruel, echoing through the empty aisles.  

The tension in the air thickened, and Wonwoo placed a reassuring hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “We’ll figure this out, I promise,” he whispered, his voice low and steady.  

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath. “You’re right. We’ll figure this out.”  

But in the back of her mind, she knew that Evelyn wasn’t going to stop. The woman was determined, and Y/N needed to be just as determined to protect what was hers. She wasn’t going to let the bookstore go without a fight—not when it had meant everything to her growing up.  

Later that evening, as the bookstore quieted down and Y/N sat at the small table in the back corner, sipping on a glass of wine, she looked up at Wonwoo, who had been quietly scribbling in his notebook for the past hour.  

He looked up from his writing and caught her gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’m almost finished with my book, you know,” he said, his tone casual but laced with something deeper.  

Y/N raised an eyebrow, setting her glass down. “No way? About what?”  

“About a treasure hunt,” he replied, eyes glinting with mischief. “About two people who find something they didn’t expect—something more valuable than they could have imagined.”  

She grinned, leaning forward with curiosity. “And what do they find?”  

“The treasure,” he said, his voice quieter now, “isn’t what they thought it would be. It’s the connection they have with each other. The way they work together to uncover something bigger than themselves.”  

Y/N felt her heart flutter at his words, the weight of his gaze making her pulse quicken. “That’s really sweet.  

“Well,” he said, his lips curving into a teasing grin, “it’s inspired by real life, isn’t it?”  

She laughed, her cheeks warming as she glanced down at her wine glass. “I guess it is.”  

Wonwoo’s tone turned more serious, though the playful edge never quite left his voice. “I think we make a pretty good team, Y/N. And I’m not just talking about the treasure hunt.”  

Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down around them. “Yeah,” she murmured, a soft smile crossing her lips. “We do, don’t we?”  

Their eyes met, and in that moment, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the connection between them deepen. Everything they had uncovered—the clues, the threats, the mystery of the bookstore—had brought them to this place, to this unexpected, complicated bond that was far more precious than any treasure they might find hidden in the walls.  

And as the night grew deeper, and they prepared to face whatever Evelyn threw their way next, Y/N knew one thing for certain: no matter what happened, she wasn’t going to face it alone.

The next morning, the sun had barely risen, casting soft beams of light through the dust-covered windows of the bookstore. Y/N had barely slept the night before, her mind whirling with thoughts of Evelyn’s threats and the looming confrontation that awaited her. But she had a plan now, one that gave her a sense of clarity and strength. She wasn’t going to let her aunt take what was hers.  

With the deed securely tucked in her bag and the letter from her mother—a last message of trust and love—Y/N stood at the edge of the bookstore, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she had to confront Evelyn’s lawyer head-on, to show them that she wasn’t just some helpless niece who could be pushed around. The store was hers, and now, she had the legal proof to back it up.  

It was a short walk to the lawyer’s office, but it felt like the longest journey of her life. As Y/N entered the glass-fronted building, she was greeted by a stern receptionist, who asked for her name.  

“I’m here to see Mr. Calloway,” Y/N said firmly, her voice steady despite the nerves bubbling just beneath the surface. “Tell him it’s regarding the deed for the bookstore.”  

The receptionist glanced at her curiously but nodded, picking up the phone to make the call. A few moments later, Y/N was ushered into a sleek office, the kind of place that smelled faintly of expensive cologne and old leather-bound books. Mr. Calloway, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a stern expression, stood behind his desk. He motioned for her to take a seat.  

“Ms. Y/N, I presume?” Mr. Calloway’s voice was smooth, but there was a certain edge to it. “I’m afraid you’ve come here for nothing. The property’s ownership is already in question. Your aunt is prepared to take this to court.”  

Y/N didn’t flinch. “That’s not necessary,” she said, her voice unwavering. “I have the deed to the bookstore.”  

She slid the crinkled paper across the desk, and Mr. Calloway eyed it with some skepticism. “And where did you come from?”  

“This is the deed my mother left for me,” Y/N replied, her fingers curling around the letter she’d brought with it. “And along with that, she left me the money to renovate and make this store my own. She made it clear in writing that this place was meant to be mine. I’ve spent my life here, and I’m not going to let anyone take it away from me.”  

For a moment, the lawyer was silent, his gaze flicking back and forth between the deed and Y/N’s determined face. He finally sighed, leaning back in his chair and steepling his fingers. “Well, it’s clear you have some legal standing here,” he said slowly. “I’ll need to make sure everything is in order, but I’d advise you to be prepared for further legal action. Your aunt is not someone who backs down easily.”  

“I’m not backing down either,” Y/N said, standing up and grabbing the deed from the desk. “I’ll be taking the store back, starting now.”  

Mr. Calloway looked surprised but didn’t protest. “Very well. I’ll have this taken into consideration.”  

Y/N left the office with the deed still clutched tightly in her hand, feeling a surge of relief and adrenaline. Her heart was racing, but now, she knew she had the power to protect the place she loved. The fight wasn’t over, but she had just won the first round.  

With the victory still buzzing in her chest, Y/N made her way straight to the bookstore, her thoughts already turning to the next steps. She needed to tell Wonwoo. He’d been by her side through all of this, and now that she had the deed, they could finally take the fight to Evelyn and her lawyer together.  

When she arrived at the bookstore, it was nearly empty except for a few early morning customers, browsing the shelves. The usual quiet was soothing, but Y/N couldn’t help the wide smile spreading across her face as she spotted Wonwoo, hunched over in a corner with his notebook, scribbling away.  

She couldn’t contain herself anymore. She rushed over to him, feeling lighter than she had in days. "Wonwoo!" she said, practically bursting with excitement.  

He looked up, his eyes softening as he noticed the huge grin on her face. "What’s all this about?"  

“I did it,” she said, breathless, her chest heaving as she held up the deed. “I went to Evelyn’s lawyer, and I staked my claim. I have the deed, the money my mom left me for renovations, and now—” She paused for effect. “Now, the bookstore is mine.”  

Wonwoo’s face broke into a grin so wide it almost seemed unreal. He immediately stood, his arms open as if to embrace the whole victory. “Y/N, that’s amazing!”  

Without saying another word, he pulled her into a tight hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around once, before gently setting her back down. Y/N laughed, the joy bubbling up inside her in a way she hadn’t felt in weeks.  

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said, stepping back and looking at him with gratitude. “You helped me every step of the way.”  

Wonwoo smiled softly, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “That’s what partners do.” His tone was lighter now, teasing. “Although, I think we should celebrate this properly.”  

Y/N raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Oh? How do you plan to do that?”  

Wonwoo leaned in just slightly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well,” he said, his voice lower now, “I’m thinking of wine... and maybe even a celebratory kiss?”  

Y/N laughed again, her heart racing in her chest. "You’re lucky I like you, because you’re so corny, Jeon Wonwoo."  

“Lucky?” he repeated, leaning back, mock offense in his voice. “I’m not just lucky, I’m deserving.”  

“Alright, alright,” she said, pulling a bottle of wine from the shelf. “You’ve earned it. But just so you know, this is just the beginning. We still have a lot of work to do.”  

“I know,” he said, pouring them each a glass, “but I think we deserve a break, don’t you?”  

They clinked glasses, and for a moment, the world outside the bookstore seemed to fade away. They had won today, but they both knew that this was just the start of a much larger fight. 

As they stood there, the glasses of wine in their hands, the air between them still crackling with the energy of the moment, Wonwoo’s smile faded slightly. He took a deep breath, setting his glass down on the nearby table. There was something different in his eyes now—something deeper, something more vulnerable. Y/N noticed it immediately, her smile faltering slightly as she watched him.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice softer now, the excitement of the day momentarily giving way to a more serious tone. “You’ve gone quiet all of a sudden.”

Wonwoo ran a hand through his hair, his gaze flicking to the floor for a moment before meeting her eyes again. He hesitated for a second longer, as if weighing his words carefully. 

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something,” he began, his voice steady but laced with an earnestness that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. “And I guess now is as good a time as any.”

Y/N set her glass down too, her attention fully on him now. She could feel her pulse quicken as the tension in the room shifted, her curiosity growing.

“When I first started coming here, I didn’t expect much. I was just looking for a quiet place to escape and get away from the chaos of the world, y’know?” he continued, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he spoke, as if grounding himself. “But then, I started coming more often. And eventually, it wasn’t just the books that kept bringing me back. It was... you.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected from him, but this... this wasn’t what she’d anticipated. She searched his eyes, her heart pounding in her chest. “Wonwoo, I—”

“Just let me finish,” he said, cutting her off gently, but there was a softness in his voice that she couldn’t ignore. “At first, I thought I was just drawn to this place because it was peaceful. But then I realized it was you—your passion, the way you cared about this bookstore, the way you lit up when you talked about your mom, the way you had this fire in you that I couldn’t stop noticing.” He took a small step closer, his voice growing more sincere with each word. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Y/N. Not in the way you see the world, not in the way you’ve brought me into this... this little adventure of ours.”

Y/N’s heart was racing now, her chest tight as she absorbed his words. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his eyes, no doubt in her mind that what he was saying wasn’t just a passing thought.

“I used to think I knew what I wanted,” Wonwoo went on, his voice barely above a whisper now, “but you’ve changed that for me. This place... you... have made me see that there’s more to life than just work, than just existing. You’ve given me a reason to want more, to want... us.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her hand instinctively reaching out to grasp his, her fingers trembling ever so slightly. “Wonwoo...” she whispered, her voice soft but full of emotion. “I didn’t know you felt that way.”

His thumb gently brushed over the back of her hand, his gaze never leaving hers. “I do. I care about you, Y/N. More than I thought I could care about anyone. You’ve completely turned my world upside down, and I wouldn’t change it for anything.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the quiet in the room wrapping around them like a cocoon. Y/N could hear the steady beat of her own heart in her ears, the weight of his words settling deep within her chest.

“I don’t know what to say,” she finally whispered, her voice unsteady. “This is... I didn’t expect this.”

Wonwoo smiled softly, a hint of nervousness breaking through his usual cool demeanor. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know. I don’t want to hide how I feel anymore.”

Y/N felt something shift inside her, the words she had been holding back finally finding their way to her lips. “Wonwoo, you’ve changed my life too. I’ve never met anyone who just, I don’t know, gets it the way you do. You make me feel like I’m not crazy for wanting this place to mean something more. You’ve made me feel seen. I care about you too, so much more than I ever expected.”

A soft chuckle escaped him, his eyes lighting up in that familiar mischievous way. “Well, I guess that’s a good thing, considering we’ve already been on a treasure hunt together.”

Y/N laughed, but it was different this time. It wasn’t just a response to his teasing—it was a laugh filled with something deeper, something more real. “You’re right,” she said, her voice more certain now. “I guess it is.”

Wonwoo stepped closer, his hand finding hers, fingers intertwining. “So, what do you say? Want to keep going on this treasure hunt—with me?”

As Y/N held Wonwoo’s hand, her heart raced with a mixture of excitement and a little bit of disbelief. She hadn’t expected any of this—the bookstore, the adventure, and most certainly not the way he was looking at her right now, like he’d just found the last piece of the puzzle he didn’t even know he was searching for.

“You really know how to throw someone off balance, Jeon,” she teased, a playful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I thought we were just celebrating the deed and now you’re confessing your feelings. Seriously, could you not make it so dramatic?”

He chuckled, leaning closer, the mischief still dancing in his eyes. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for drama.” 

She rolled her eyes, but her smile never left. “Well, I’ll give you this—you’re a much better treasure than I ever thought you’d be.”

“Aw, look at that,” Wonwoo teased, raising an eyebrow. “I’m your treasure now?”

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “I guess. I mean, who else would tolerate my crazyness?” she said with a wink.

His response was to step even closer, giving her a sly grin. “Someone who’d do anything to stick around,” he said softly, before dipping his head and placing a quick kiss on her forehead. “You’re stuck with me now.”

She grinned up at him, her heart light. “That’s just fine by me.”

The days that followed felt like a whirlwind of excitement and resolution. With the deed officially in her hands, Y/N returned to the bookstore, determined to move forward. Evelyn’s lawyer had called to warn her that her aunt wouldn’t give up easily, but once the truth came out—that her mother had left the store specifically for Y/N to own, with funds to renovate and keep it alive—there was nothing Evelyn could do. She tried to fight, of course, but without any legal grounds or the right to contest the inheritance, it was a battle she couldn’t win.

Y/N’s lawyer had done the heavy lifting, and with everything in order, Evelyn was forced to concede defeat. The store officially belonged to Y/N—her mother’s legacy was hers to continue. But Y/N made one last effort to seal the deal. She sent Evelyn a letter, with a cheeky twist of her own: “Thanks for the help, but I think I’ve got it from here.”

It was a small victory, but it felt sweet, and Y/N couldn’t stop grinning as she turned back to the shelves, breathing in the familiar scent of old pages and dust. The Nook was officially hers.

The real fun began after that.

Weeks later, the bookstore was buzzing with activity—not from the usual morning crowd, but something much more exciting. Y/N had spent countless hours refurbishing the place, brightening the atmosphere with new coats of paint, adding cozy reading nooks, and ensuring every corner reflected her personality. But there was one thing she couldn’t do without him. Wonwoo had been her right-hand man through every part of it, turning the back office into a cozy writers’ retreat and organizing all of the books so that they not only looked great but also told a story of their own.

And now, the biggest thing was happening: the bookstore was hosting Wonwoo’s book signing. He’d completed his manuscript, inspired by all their adventures, their treasure hunts, and the mysterious secrets of The Nook. His book was a hit, and now, with the launch underway, Y/N was standing beside him in the middle of their bookstore—the place that had started it all.

She caught sight of him as he set up for the signing, adjusting the small display table with the first copies of his book. His smile was wide, and he looked so comfortable in his own skin now—more at home than she’d ever seen him before. He caught her eye, and for a moment, everything else faded away. 

“You did it,” she said, walking up to him with a grin. “You’re officially a second time sexy best selling author.”

He grinned back, his eyes twinkling. “And I couldn’t have done it without a treasure hunt partner like you. Where would I be without my muse?”

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, giving him a playful shove. “Yeah, yeah. Just sign my copy, won’t you?”

He laughed, taking the book from her hands and scribbling a dedication. “To Y/N, the true treasure of The Nook.”

She raised an eyebrow, feeling a familiar warmth spread across her chest. “You’re really laying it on thick now.”

“I’m just being honest,” he teased, handing her the signed copy. “You changed my life, remember?”

Before Y/N could reply, the first customer walked in—an eager reader looking for a signed copy of his book. The rest of the day was a whirlwind of introductions, book signings, and laughter, the bookstore alive with the kind of energy Y/N had only dreamed of before.

As the event wound down, with the last few customers having left, Wonwoo and Y/N were left standing behind the counter, both a little tired but still glowing from the success.

“So,” Wonwoo said, his voice low as he leaned on the counter next to her, “what do we do now?”

Y/N looked around, taking in the bustling bookstore, the little crowd of people chatting about his book, the laughter, and the life in the space. She felt a contented sigh escape her lips.

“We keep going,” she said with a grin, her eyes meeting his. “We keep making this place even more ours.”

Wonwoo leaned in, his face softening. “And how do we do that?”

Y/N leaned back against the counter, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “We keep finding treasures, Together.”

The following months were filled with more than just book signings. With the store officially thriving under their shared ownership, Y/N and Wonwoo were building a life together, discovering new mysteries, laughing over silly inside jokes, and creating their own stories within the walls of The Nook. Whether it was fixing up a new corner for readers, writing new books, or simply sitting together and reminiscing about their treasure hunt, they had found something real—something both fun and serious in its own way.

As for Evelyn, she had finally backed off, realizing she had no place left in Y/N’s world. Y/N had reclaimed her space—not just in the bookstore, but in her life. And with Wonwoo by her side, they were ready for whatever came next.

And so, The Nook became more than just a bookstore—it became their home, their story, and their future.

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

I don't want to be alone tonight...

(very fluffy smut under cut, body worship, bj)

You felt slightly anxious standing in front of Aventurine's door. Not that you weren't used to visiting him, you knew his bed as well as your own. For the past two years you have been coming here twice a week, except days when Aventurine was out on a mission.

It started as a simple deal between two lonely people, something to fill the void in your lives, to break the silence of the darkest nights, the kind of nights that bring memories so livid you can almost feel everything like it happend yesterday.

It was easier to survive them when you had a hand to hold and passion to distract yourself with. It was never just sex. There was a deep, raw sense of comfort in it, melancholic and silent. You barely spoke during those meetings, there was nothing to confess when you laid down with all your wounds wide open anyways.

Today it was different. He contacted you on the day usually not reserved for your meetings, at 4 am. Even through the phone you could hear how tired he was, how weak he felt tonight. With heart filled with worry you rushed to his place. As soon as you ringed the bell the door opened, revealing young man with dark circles under his eyes.

You expected him to flirt with you or joke around like he always did, but none of that happend. He took you by the hand and guided you to his bed with no words.

You glanced outside his bedroom window, taking in breathtaking sight of skyscrapers lit up with neon lights that never dimmed but couldn't outshine the stars above them. You looked up to constellations with hope, finding solace in vastness of the universe. Among all it's planets there must be a place where even you could find peace one day.

- Look at me. - Aventurine whispered. You obeyed, alarmed by his serious tone. He seemed so different tonight. - I don't really like it when you get so nostalgic. It feels like you escape somewhere inside yourself, to a place where I can't follow. I am left wondering if you are really by my side or is it just your body here.

- I am right here with you. - you reassured him, moving your body closer to his. - As mindfull as one can be at such early hour.

He didn't watch your every move like he used to. Normally his eyes didn't leave you when you were in his personal space, always analysing your intentions and predicting your next step. Well, maybe he was just too tired for games today. It wouldn't be the first time this megacorp he worked for sucked the soul out of him. But it's the first time he seemed so vulnerable in front of you. Knowing him this could be the last time as well.

You decided to enjoy the moment while it lasts and gently pushed him on the pillows. His golden locks spread over the silk, framing his face in straight up angelic way. You run your fingers through his hair, and he didn't object, so you bend down to kiss him. His lips were warm and welcoming. He opened his mouth, allowing you to slide your tongue in as much as you wanted to.

You realised he let you control the situation. He never did that before, even when you were on top of him he was the one to choose your pace despite his provocative words. You always respected his need to be the one in charge due to his past, you understood why he craves to decide what is happening with his body for once, so you just followed whatever he initiated. Why did it change? You weren't sure if you want to know judging by how defeated he looked tonight.

You kissed his clenched jaw, the tip of his nose, his forehead. Your fingers tenderly massaged his scalp. He exhaled loudly. Testing the waters you unbottoned his shirt a little, leaving another kiss on uncovered skin. Aventurine closed his eyes and stretched. Taking it as a good sign you undid the rest of his buttons so you could admire his toned but slim chest. This time he didn't even care if you pay attention to his scars, but once upon a time he only had you with lights turned down so you can't see them.

You licked a straight line from his collarbones, through the valley between his chest muscles and abs to his happy trail, just when you were about to pull his pants down he grabbed your hand.

- Why so fast, friend? - he purred seductively, taking off his shirt. Playful smirk returned to his face. - You aren't done here yet.

He sat up and pulled you into his lap to give you a kiss, put his hand on the back of your head and directed your face into his neck, right were his burned mark was.

You were shocked cause no matter how much he paraded this mark, in the past he tensed up when you touched anywhere near that spot. Afraid to spoil the moment you quickly recovered and kissed over the scar as gently as you could. His grip on your head loosened up completely, he slid his palm down your back and rubbed circles all over it. You embraced him as well, caressing his sides. You kissed over the scars littering his shoulder and arm, down to the knuckles of his hand. He pushed his long fingers lito your mouth and you licked and sucked on them obediently. Once he was satisfied with your display of affection he pulled them out and finally moved back to take his pants down.

With only his panties on, Aventurine sat on the verge of bed with spread legs. You immediately kneeled down at his feet and kissed up his thigh. He giggled softly, once again placing his hand on you head and caressing your hair. You went higher, kissing over his clothed semi-erection till it hardened fully, then up to his belly button and back down to his dick while getting his covered by saliva panties out of the way.

You left open mouthed kisses on sides of his dick before swirling your tongue over his tip and sucking on it. Whimpers of pleasure that got out of his throat encouraged you to take the rest of his member into your mouth. Saliva dropped down your chin while you hollowed your cheeks around him.

He came faster than you expected, releasing beautiful moan. You didn't even know he could sound like that, he always controlled his mouth in bed either moaning in obscene way to wrap you around his finger or keeping quiet to not show how weak he is for you. This sound was honest, not so loud but his voice broke a little, proving you did well for him. He collapsed on bed, but his eyes never left your body.

You undressed under his lustful gaze, letting your summer dress slip off and show your lacy underwear. You laid down next to him, on your left side, and he turned to face you. His agile hands quickly unraveled cords holding your bra and panties together. Aventurine pulled you close to himself and kissed you, tickling your sides. You melt into his strong embrace and brush his hair away from his face with your fingers. His hand reached down and massaged your cunt when his lips found your breasts and wraped around your nipple. You kissed his head and played with his hair when he was busy prepering you for what comes next.

- I can't wait anymore. - Aventurine broke the silence. - I need to be inside of you.

- I want to cum so badly, I need this. - you whined out climbing on top of him.

You pushed him inside of you, not letting yourself adjust fully before going up and down on it. His thick girth massaged and ruined your insides in the most delightful way. Sounds of wetness and skin slapping against skin turned you on so much, but quiet moans and heavy breathing of your lover were even better. Your legs felt weak at the sight of his blushed cheeks, eyes dark with desire and sweat driping down his perfect body.

You felt your orgasm approaching but you tired to hold it in so you can both cum at the same time. Aventurine saw right through you and pinched your clit fast, making you finish. You squirted over his abdomen, pushing him to his own release. You collapsed into his arms and he held you till you both calmed down.

- Thank you. I had a really hard day at work. - he sighed, holding you even closer.

- I figured this out. - you admitted. - I'm happy I could help you make this day at least a bit better.

-You sure did. - he chuckled. He looked you deep in your eyes with the most charming smile you could imagine. - Can I ask you for one little favour?

You raised your eyebrow at him.

- What kind of favour?

- You see, I have this big corporation party next week. Would you like to go there as my partner? Most people will bring their plus one. - he winked at you. - Don't worry about anything, I will buy you proper dress and introduce you to everybody.

- I guess I could give it a try. - you agreed hesitantly. Gambler instantly rewarded you with his brightest smile.

[half-oz-eddie]

🎁 ❤️

Max was not supposed to be in Billy’s room. She knew better. 

But it was 7:30 AM and she really wanted to leave something for him on his desk. 

She quietly crept in, sliding her slim frame through the ajar door and tiptoed to his desk to gently place something on it. 

“The hell’re you doing?” A groggy voice startled her. 

She should’ve expected the hyper-vigilant teen to wake up while she was there. 

“I was—I just wanted t-to leave something here for you.” She nervously stammered. 

He narrowed his sleepy eyes at her. “Give it here.” 

Max slowly walked over, handing the surprise to Billy. 

It slowly exchanged hands and Billy examined it closely. 

“I-I know you don’t have a record player but I saw the posters in your room and I thought you’d want to—like—have something to collect. So Steve drove me to a record store to get you a vinyl.”

He stared at the Mötley Crüe vinyl for a few moments, then handed it back to Max. “Put it on my desk.” He said as he laid back down. 

“Y-you don’t like it?” She frowned. 

“Never said I didn’t. I’m just tired.”

Max slowly walked back over to his desk and set the vinyl down. 

“Why’d you buy that for me?” He asked. 

“Don’t you know what today is? It’s your—“

“I know that.” He said in a snippy voice. “I’m asking why the hell you bought me anything. You never cared before.”

“Well, last year, I tried to buy you something with my allowance and my mom said Neil would be mad if I used my money on you, so she wouldn’t take me to the mall.”

“And you said Harrington drove you? Why the hell did he do that?” Billy continued to question.

“We had a long talk about that night at the Byers and we came to a realization of how unfair we were being to you. So I—I didn’t wanna lose you forever. We don’t get along but like, we had our moments, where we’d talk to each other a little bit. Now we don’t speak at all.”

“You stabbed me with a needle.”

“You were gonna kill Steve if I didn’t stop you.” Max sighed. “I’m sorry, okay?”

“You don’t need to be. But whatever, guess I’m sorry too.”

Max smiled.  “I’ll let you sleep. Happy birthday.”

She closed the door behind her upon exiting and went back to her bed.

It was nearly 11AM when Max woke up again. Neil and Susan were already at work. Susan left a note behind with instructions for heating up lunch. 

This year, there was no school on Billy’s birthday, so Max decided to heat up the lunch for both of them. 

She set down two plates just in time, as she heard Billy resurfacing from his room.

He stepped through the quiet house and stopped by the table, glaring at Max.

“Nobody’s home?”

“No. Mom left lunch for us, so I heated it up.”

Billy looked down at the chicken Parmesan. Susan normally only made it for holidays, but Easter wasn’t until Sunday. 

Max figured it was Susan’s subtle way of giving Billy a little something special for his birthday.

“There were some breadsticks too.” Max mentioned, grabbing them out of the toaster oven. “I put some of that garlic and herb stuff on them because I remembered that you like it.”

Billy glared at Max as she started eating. 

“What?” She asked with her mouth half full.

Billy shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Nothin’. Forget it.” 

They ate in complete silence. Billy finished first and got up from the table without a word.

Max didn’t expect much conversation from Billy, but he wasn’t as unpleasant as he could’ve been, so it was fine.

She washed the dishes and sat back down at the table reading a magazine when Billy returned once more with his jacket on.

“C’mon.”

“Where’re we going?”

“Somewhere. I can’t leave you here by yourself. Susan and dad would bitch about it.”

Max grabbed her jacket and slipped on some shoes, then followed Billy to his car.

The drive was brief and they stopped at the quarry.

To Max’s surprise, Billy invited her to sit on the hood of his car. He offered her a soda and cracked open a beer for himself.

They clinked their cans together and drank as they quietly watched the early afternoon scenery. 

“It’s surprisingly warm today.” Max initiated small talk. 

“I think the groundhog saw its shadow—or didn’t see its shadow—or whichever meant a late winter.”

“It’s…when he sees his shadow.” She paused. “I think.”

Billy snorted. “Why are we listening to a big ass rodent about the weather anyway?”

Max softly giggled. “Tradition, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, it’s stupid.” He mumbled in response as he brought the beer can to his lips.

Silence returned again, and Billy glanced over at Max.

“So y’said Harrington drove you to the record store. That’s like…across town.”

“I wasn’t alone with him, if that’s what you’re worried about. Dustin and Lucas went too.”

Billy quickly responded with a scoff. “What’s so great about Harrington anyway? You defended him over me that night—“

“Is that what made you so upset?”

“No. But you defended him and I’m asking about it.”

“Well, he’s really nice. He looks after all my friends, everyone around town knows him and his family—“

“So he’s just the opposite of me.”

“W—I—I mean, you’re nice sometimes. You’ve been nice to me 4 times and I remember them all.”

Billy shrugged. “Yeah. Anyway, thanks for the gift, shitbird.”

“You better get me something nice for my birthday too!”

“When is it again? April…may…tember…”

“July.” She snapped.

Billy laughed. “I know when your birthday is, don’t be such a baby.”

“I’m not.” She fired back. “You’re just a jerk.”

“And?”

Max scoffed. “You’re so lucky it’s your birthday or I’d—“

“You’d what?”

Max chugged her soda and tossed the empty can at Billy.

“You piece of shit. You’re dead!”

Max jumped off the hood of Billy’s car and ran off laughing, with Billy not too far behind. 

When Billy finally caught up to Max, he chugged his beer and tossed the can at Max.

The out of breath siblings glared at one another, before their expressions softened and they began to laugh.

“Hey, d’you wanna go to the movies or something?” Max offered. “I’ll buy you popcorn.”

“And I get to pick the movie?”

Max groaned. “Fine.”

“You know I pick better movies than you do, anyway.”

“Bullshit! Your movie choices suck ass!”

The two bickered all the way back to Billy’s car. Sure, this was a nice day, but Billy couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t stop thinking about Steve Harrington driving his little sister across town to get him a gift.

‘Maybe I should thank him too…’

[mymegrokosmos]

a little soft bf minghao brainrot bc i felt like it. super era shoulder injury hao.

you set your bags down on the counter, dropping your keys by the front door and going to put your things away. by the time you've shrugged out of your jacket, hung it up in the front closet and put your purse in its usual spot on the credenza table in the hallway you're ready to melt into the sofa but there's still more to do before you can relax.

when you get to the kitchen, halfway through tying your hair up out of your face, you find yourself smiling. the familiar sight of your boyfriend's back, clad in his usual leisure attire of grey sleeveless top that leaves just a hint of his shoulders visible, peeks out of the fridge. he's already started putting the groceries away before anything gets too warm. just when you think your fondness for him can’t melt your heart any more than it already has he leans back to look at you from around the door and his soft smile has your heart in shambles.

if it’s possible to become one with the floor you're doing it. you've become a puddle. his shaggy mullet is in disarray, fluffy from where he's run his hands through it, and his face is bare. his usually sharp eyes are framed by big round glasses, softening his gaze as he closes the fridge in favour of coming over to press a kiss to your forehead.

"hi darling, welcome home. how was your day?"

you'd think after all this time you'd be used to how tall he was but it was still always a bit of a surprise just how much he towered over you up close. you sighed, letting him pull you into a hug and sliding your arms around his slim waist.

"hi. it was okay, very long."

he chuckles and you close your eyes, head resting against his chest. you're careful to lay it against the side of his good shoulder, nuzzling against the soft cotton of his shirt as his hand comes up to rest against the back of your head.

"i'm glad to finally be home. what did you get up to today handsome?"

the hand on your waist squeezes lightly and he holds you close for a minute before stepping back with another kiss to the top of your head.

"physio this morning again and then practice, even though I can't do a lot of the choreo yet they still need me for blocking when I can make it. mingyu came by earlier and dropped off some hotpot. why don't you go get into something more comfortable and we can talk about it over dinner?"

sometimes there was nothing better than coming home to everything already being taken care of. you know he misses being at work but being home more means minghao needs things to do. his physiotherapist also says that getting some movement in is good for his progress, so he's been taking care of household chores and spending a lot more time meditating lately to keep himself busy.

the members have been helping when they can. mingyu comes by or gets your boyfriend out of the house at least three times a week now. jun's often over in his free time to run lines with hao or catch up on the latest cdrama you're watching together. you think joshua has even dragged him out to a pottery class or two in their spare time. it's been good for him and the rest is doing him good, even if it makes him a little bit restless sometimes.

you nod. "i'll be right back. do you need me to help with anything?"

"no, just relax and leave the day at the office jagiya."

easier said than done but minghao always made you feel less guilty about sticking by work life balance and keeping them mostly separate. it's also been fun spending more time cooking together, he's good in the kitchen just a little impatient and you're enjoying getting to try out some of his mother's recipes. she's often on video call when you get home, minghao pouting about something while she scolds him playfully or they catch up on their weeks with each other. it's sweet and you love that their relationship only seems to get stronger as time goes on.

"you're still coming to the company dinner next week with me, right?"

another soft smile as he nods. "I'll be there darling. I didn't pick us out matching outfits just to not show up. now stop worrying and go change. you're hovering again."

you are, just a little bit. it's a habit you're still trying to work your way out of. you were a little traumatized when you got the call that hao was in the hospital at first and, though you both know he's fine and capable now, the instinct to make sure he's okay still lingers a little bit.

you sigh and make a face at him. "okay, okay. I'm going."

he just chuckles as you head towards your shared bedroom. makeup and weight of the day finally removed it's time to slip into one of hao's oversized tshirts and the matching cotton pyjama pants he bought for you last christmas. it feels like a cozy day so you take the time to find your slippers too before shuffling back towards the kitchen.

you find minghao stirring a pot of what seems to be mingyu's latest attempt at comfort food and slip your arms around his waist from behind, face pressed lightly against his warm back.

"smells good."

he hums in agreement, hand patting yours where it rests on his stomach. "I think he made enough to feed about seven more people than we currently have in the apartment."

you laugh and lean around him to peek at the food over his arm. "gyu probably plans to use it as an excuse to come over for lunch tomorrow or something. oh no guess you need someone else to help you eat it all."

that makes your boyfriend scoff. "why would he do that when he can just say he wants to come over? he knows where we live."

you kiss his bicep and move to get down some bowls for you both. "because he's kim mingyu and you're you myungho."

your boyfriend stops to look at you, blinking as he pauses his stirring. "I'm still not seeing your point love."

"you know how you don't like when people get too presumptuous about you?" you smile softly. "I wouldn't say he's intimidated because gyu knows you love him but... sometimes he's a little insecure and sometimes you can be a little cold."

he considers this. "he's never let that stop him before."

you smile and let him guide you, one hand on your hip as you slide between him and the pot on the stove to fill your bowls.

"and he won't, I don't think, because at the end of the day he knows that it isn't that you don't like his affection you just don't always know what to do with it and it needs time to process. but I think, and maybe this is just my take, he sometimes worries a little about intruding too much. especially now that you have a relationship outside of just your family and the members and your other friends."

it's quiet for a minute as he takes that in. you dish up hot pot for both of you and take the bowls over to your small dining table. minghao slowly follows behind, face impassive. you'd worry that you upset him but you know that expression. it's not anger or annoyance, he's just lost in thought. you take his hand, press a kiss to the back of it, and watch as he blinks back into the present.

"think about it all you need but let's eat first. like I said, maybe I'm just reading too much into it. maybe he has other reasons. we can finish that new drama and call him later if you want."

your boyfriend nods and joins you at the table, filling you in on his day. you can tell he's only half present but that's okay. by the time you finish and wash up he seems to have come to a decision.

"love?"

"yes myungho?"

he scrunches his nose. "try again please darling."

you laugh but the arms he crosses over his chest tell you he's serious. you smile softly, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.

"yes, seo myungho great love of my life and most wondrous of boyfriends?"

he snorts. "closer but still not correct."

"baobei?"

he blinks. "close enough."

you laugh and brush a hand over his cheek, melting a little when he leans into the touch and takes your hand in his.

"you know I'm only teasing you, right?"

he nods. "I do."

you lace your fingers and press a kiss to the back of his hand. "what did you want to say honey?"

"do you mind if mingyu comes over tomorrow? I know it's your day off."

"babe, this is your apartment too."

minghao sighs. you know that look. the exasperated 'are you being serious right now?' stare. you smile.

"no, I don't mind if gyu comes over. just maybe warn me beforehand so I can make sure I have pants and a bra on this time."

that makes him smile, just a little, even as he rolls his eyes at you.

"come help me with my skincare?"

"only if you let me use the good stuff."

"mm we can even wear those matching headbands you like."

"lead the way love."

sometimes all you need after a long day is xu minghao ready with a hot meal, a long hug and a silly fuzzy frog headband keeping the bangs out of his face as he applies 6 layers of different creams to your face.

[charmercharm3r]

Make Love, Not Porn

Hi, My Name Is

HHJ

Masterlist, Story Masterlist

18+ content – minors, do not interact

wc: 7.7k

Synopsis: You crave a life of normalcy, he craves you. And he'd do anything to keep you, even if you're for the world to see.

warnings: smut, explicit sexual content, subby/service top!barista hyune, softdom!reader, oral (m), piv, protected sex, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, consensual recording, lmk if I missed anything :p to be so honest i have no idea what i wrote i kinda blacked out lol so if it’s ass..look away

Past Broadcasts : Puppeteer

Live : Hi, My Name Is

Next Scheduled Broadcast : Sunday

☆ﾟ

Rule number five: know when to cut the cord.

But it was so difficult when he was literally showing up at your front door. You avoided him at all costs, acted like he didn’t exist, even found a new grocery store because it was too close to the coffee shop and you were terrified of the possibility of running into him there even if the chances were slim to none. There wasn’t even a reason for you to be scared to see him, he rejected you. He’s the one that should be embarrassed, turning down a ten out of ten.

Then again, he was a ten out of ten. A twelve out of ten, even. But why did he have to shove it in your face?

You were red in the face, light sheen of sweat all over your body when you’d heard the knock. The middle of the day and you were in the middle of a solo session, breaking in a new toy you’d gotten for the next stream. An hour had probably passed when you realized it just wasn’t working. Nothing was. The last time you’d been with Hyunjin was also the last time you’d cum, and it was frustrating the life out of you. As someone in this industry, cumming as many times as you wanted was one of the few motivators you had left. The amount of times you’d had to fake an orgasm on your streams was hurting your ego, as well as starting to get slightly suspicious to your regular viewers.

And now the sole object of your desire was behind a slab of wood that may as well have not been there at all. Your body heated up as soon as you saw him, like a warm hug. A fucking hug on the chilliest day of winter with a hot chocolate slipping down your throat. There’s also something else that would be awfully nice down you throat, and it’s behind the fucking door.

Through the peephole, you could see flowers and a coffee in his hand, biting his lip waiting for you to open. You hoped he didn’t hear you, that he’d assume you weren’t home and leave you alone for good. If you ignored him long enough, you’ll forget you’d ever even met him.

You backed away from the door when there was a second knock, hand still reached out holding the nob out of habit. The desire to open it was almost strong enough to override the nagging at the back of your head that told you “he’s just using you. He got in your pants so easily the first time, what’s to stop him from coming back for more?”

Almost.

It was a ruse, it had to be, this grand gesture. He was love bombing you. There was something he wanted. If not just sex, then fifteen minutes of fame? Using you for your platform? Still, you wanted to see the best in him, creeping up to the door again and silently looking through the peephole again. He was biting the inside of his cheek, switching the coffee between his hands when it got too cold. At some point he’d put everything into one hand so that he could run his hand through his hair– you gasped a little at how effortlessly beautiful he was, not trying knowing no one was looking and still ethereal. He mumbled something to himself, you blinked then he suddenly dipped out of the frame.

He was finally gone. Another deep breath, your head rolled to the side and your back pressed to the wall, sliding down into a crouch probably a lot more dramatic than need be. But this felt dramatic, fucking theatrical like it was some poorly written fanfiction turned into a D-list casted movie. Twiddling your thumbs as if looking at them long enough would suddenly give you the answer, the small burst of adrenaline had finally begun to wear off, and sulking back into your pitiful showroom you went. 

-

Hyujin doesn’t know how long he’d been waiting outside your house. He’d eventually decided to make himself comfy on the floor with his back to the door. Flowers, coffee, and baked good set aside, he scrolled through his phone and kept himself busy until eventually, he’d fallen asleep. Head lolled to the side, mouth agape, and snoring in the hallway.

Then he’s suddenly falling backwards, beyond startled and looking up at… an angel?

“Definitely not an angel.”

Did I say that out loud?

“Yes.”

Dazed, confused, a little gutpunched, Hyunjin sat up with your help. Just a light hand on his back until he realized you were touching him and he jumped to his feet and scrambled to grab the bouquet. Holding it out to you with shaking hands, “a peace offering.”

You looked at the gifts, leaned against the wall, and back up to his face, “what are you doing here, Hyunjin?”

He glanced around the room to take in the sight of your home without the prospect of sex slightly clouding his mind. It was cute, everything was so you, but also somehow entirely different to what he’d imagined your apartment would look like. It wasn’t reflective of your showroom, which was all neon lights and sultry furniture to keep the mood. The rest of the house was cozy with little pieces of decoration that screamed with personality. The dimming glow of the sunset lighting the living room was the perfect accessory.

Wait, sunset?

You peaked at where he was looking, “did you fall asleep?” Hyunjin nodded.

Now you felt bad, guilty even. You shouldn’t seeing as there was little to no established relationship and you didn’t owe him anything, but you did. His cheeks were puffy, pink tinted, and he still looked a little lethargic. Cute. Very cute. How badly you wanted to nibble on his cheeks cus they looked so edible. He looked edible.

No. Stop it.

“I would offer you a snack but the last time I did that you left me high and dry.”

He didn’t know if you were being serious, turning his attention back to you with a dumbfounded expression. “Really? You didn’t feel so dry to me.” Not a single ounce of shame, but also not trying to be smug. And no filter in his brain or mouth. “You didn’t call.”

Straight to the point.

Hyunjin invited himself in and headed for the kitchen he vaguely recalls following you into for said snack. He shuffled around in search of a vase, pushing the coffee into your chest when he finally found one and bumping into you because you were trailing so close behind. The little sip you took as he filled the vase with water to display on your kitchen counter made your body temperature soothe. 

“You didn’t stay,” the softness of your voice made his heart sink.

“Did you really want me to?”

How were you supposed to answer that? Say that, yes, I wanted you to stay so bad that I chose to ignore you instead of confront you because it’s easier to pretend you don’t exist than risk getting hurt again? Actually tell him that you haven’t been able to make yourself orgasm properly since the last time you were together? That he’s ruined how you view pleasure entirely? That sex and pleasure and dating and basic human relationships seems so fucking pointless if it’s not with him? To a man you’ve known for a week? No, that’s not an option. It’s batshit insane.

What’s also insane is how simple talking to him is. It’s psychotic that you feel more comfortable alone with him than you do people you’ve known for years. You’re delusional to think that this is more than physical attraction, even if it is. It’s so much more than that and every bone in you is telling you let the dainty red string pull you closer, let it guide you towards him. And god, you want to. It’s too good to be real, he’s not real. He’s a figment of your imagination that only exists in fairy tales because little red strings of fate don’t determine your life, they don’t tell you who you’ll love, it doesn't mean anything. Not a single fucking thing.

“Yes.” 

Now, why the fuck would you say that?

“You should’ve told me,” Hyunjin let out a sigh of what you think was relief.  His shoulders slouched forward and smiled up at the ceiling.

His nonchalant made you raise an eyebrow, “I offered! You declined!”

“Don’t yell at me. I left my phone number on your desk, you didn’t call. Drink before it gets watered down.” You frowned and took a sip. “Why didn’t you call me?”

“What are you talking about? What phone number?”

“The one on your desk? With the pretty drawing of you and the… y’know?”

“I didn’t see anything.”

“What?!” He slammed the bag with the baked item onto the counter and stormed through the apartment towards your showroom. You watched as he scoured the room, searching the bed, corners, your desk for whatever it is he was looking for.

Hyunjin had gotten on his hands and knees to look below it, finally to roll your chair back and pull the cupsleeve out from under it. The cardboard was smashed, crumpled, a little dirty. He stumbled to his feet to hold it in front of you, accompanying his raised, unamused brow.

“To be fair, I thought my chair was broken.”

“You didn’t even bother to look at why it might’ve been broken?!” You shrugged, sipping the coffee again. Hyunjin huffed and tossed the cup sleeve back onto your desk. “You’re insufferable. Where the fuck is your phone?”

“Don’t swear at me.” Pointing at the bed, Hyunjin rolled his eyes before taking it.

“Passcode?” You tell him the six digits to unlock it. “Is that your birthday?”

“...No.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll remember. I’ll even add it to your contact so that I get the notification.” After a few moments, he smiled triumphantly and tossed your phone next to the abandoned cupsleeve. “Now… Dinner?”

“That’s it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive?”

“I left you outside.”

“Yeah.”

“For hours.”

“Sure.”

“You fell asleep on my doorstep.”

“Where were you going, anyway? The sun was going down.”

“To get my mail.”

“What?! At night alone?! Now, that’s unforgivable.” Hyunjin took a step towards you, slim yet broad figure shielding yours from just about everything in your immediate vision. He leaned over, placing both of his hands on the sides of your head to hold you steady as he placed a simple kiss to your forehead.

The sudden affection made your brain short circuit because what the hell? How was he so okay with everything? It was almost like there was a wind up monkey toy holding cymbals inside his head that started clapping whenever his attention was taken somewhere else. But somehow, you were even more attracted to him, if that was even possible.

“Were you doing something in here? It smells like sweat.” He said and casually strolled out of your showroom. 

For hours, you and Hyunjin were in your kitchen. Half of that was spent trying to figure out what the two of you could cook without burning the house down. The conversation was so entertainingly mundane that neither of you realized how much time had truly passed, sun fully set and night sky helping illuminate the dimly lit living room. He insisted on doing most of the cooking when you both agreed that boxed pasta and premade red sauce would be the safest thing.

All you had to do was sit back and ogle his back muscles as he stirred the pot, maybe hand him a napkin or spoon when asked. The white shirt he wore was as thin as they come, tank top more than visible beneath it and making your mouth water. The room had become incredibly warm as Hyunjin put the wooden spoon to the side. With his back to you, you got to watch as both his hands threaded through his hair, gathering what he could, and tying it into a messy ponytail. God, how did he do that? That thing where he just exists and it makes you swoon? He needs to stop– it’s getting ridiculous how hearts were basically replacing your pupils.

“If it tastes horrible, lie to me and act like it doesn’t.” Hyunjin placed a full plate in front of you, taking the seat across from you.

For the most part, the meal itself was silent. There just weren’t any words that you could think coherently enough to speak. Great food, made especially for you, and by the most handsome boy you’d ever seen, why would you need to say anything? Hyunjin didn’t seem to mind. All it looked like he cared about was not taking his eyes off you.

It was just the littlest bit uneasy, but nothing that put you off. His stare was just intense, part of you thought he was reading your mind. However, if he could, you probably wouldn’t have had to spend a week apart.

“I don’t understand you,” you admit as you suddenly find your plate nearing clean.

“Do you have to?” He responded, putting his fork down and sitting back while adjusting to spread his knees.

“I’d like to.”

Oh, how his heart fluttered when you said that. It felt like a step in the right direction. “That’s the first time you’ve asked me something personal that isn’t related to sex.”

You frowned along with the small guilt that lingered over your shoulder. “This is only the fourth time we’ve met.”

“Most people ask this before taking their clothes off. I think I’ve told you before, you’re not like most people.” He could see you bite the inside of your cheek, making a cute pout that he could tell was coming from a place of an unnecessary amount of self awareness. “I like it, though. Why do you think I came back?”

“I don’t know why. That’s, like, the whole point of me saying, ‘I don’t understand you.’”

Hyunjin reached over the short distance between him and you, thumb smoothing the ruffle between your brows and you instantly relaxed. As awkward as he could be, he really knew how to make you feel so at ease, second nature for him to be comfort embodied. There was no judgment on his face or in his tone that you could see. If you had asked what he was thinking about, he would have answered with how pretty your cheeks glow after a good meal.

“That day, you agreed to come with me and… participate..?” Hyunjin nodded along and listened intently, continuing to lightly push your hair from your forehead and trace the outline of your cheek. “Then we showered and snacked and then you just… you left. And didn’t so much as twitch when you looked at me after we were done.”

His jaw wanted to drop to the floor just how it did in the cartoons. That was the only reaction he could emit as it all clicked into place. Why you didn’t look for him or stop by the coffee shop, why you were reluctant to open the door and accept his gift, the slightly cold shoulder you gave him when you so clearly wanted to be nothing but a blanket of warmth. “Is that what you think?”

Hyunjin’s heart hurt a little when you didn’t answer, but he also wanted to laugh in your face at how stupid all of this was. However, he had clocked it the second you two had a real conversation, and so laughing at you was probably the last thing he should do. Instead, he trailed his touch down your jaw, gently cupping your cheek. “You’re more than all this,” hands slid quickly, gesturing down your sides and back up. “So much more.”

The tears wanted to swell in your eyes at how sincere his voice was. He could’ve been lying, for all you knew, but the small part of you that wanted to believe him was also the biggest part of you that had always wanted someone to tell you those small words. The small part of you that wanted to be wanted was also the biggest part of you that wanted him. It was all so confusing, you understood him perfectly but also not at all. Hyunjin could read you easily by now, you were like an open book to him.

“But I was naked.”

“And so fucking beautiful,” practically gritted through his teeth because just saying the words couldn’t express the painfully good clenching in his chest. Hyunjin pulled back for a second to stand up and shrink to his knees in front of you, reaching up again to take your cheeks in both of his hands. “But how could I look at just your body when there is so much up here to get to know?”

There it was again, all the right words executed perfectly in spite of how great of a wall you put between you and him. Hyunjin smoothly pressed a kiss to your forehead, for emphasis or not, it made you shut your eyes tightly and the tears silently rolled. His thumbs were swiping it away before making it over the hill of your cheekbone, and he was standing to take your empty dishes into the kitchen for cleaning.

You were absolutely stunned. Unsure of where to go, how to act, what to say, you simply watched him quickly wash the plates with an endearing smile all the way across his cheeks before he was taking your hand to lead you towards the couch. He sat you next to him, millimeters apart and reading your body language. Definitely in need of a lighter mood.

Hyunjin stuck his hand out for a handshake.

“What’re you doing?” Your voice cracked.

“Hi, my name is Hyunjin. You’re incredibly gorgeous and I’d love to take you out sometime.”

“If this is some kind of roleplay–”

“It’s not,” he took your hand from your lap to connect with his. “This is me wanting to know you, and you wanting to know me. I don’t know what you do for a living, and you don’t know what my dick looks like. Just people.”

Just people, that sounded nice.

You hesitated, then shook his hand. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“So Y/N, can I take you on a date? Maybe have a picnic in the park, grab some cheap painting supplies and go paint near the river, dessert at the best ice cream spot I know. We can make it a nice day.” He tucked his hand back into his lap respectfully, throwing the other over the back of the couch to get just the littlest bit close to you.

“I’d like to, but I’m lactose intolerant.”

“See, I’d say that’s a lie because of your coffee order. But since I don’t know you, I’m going to take your word for it and offer a cake place that I’ve heard great reviews about.”

“I don’t like frosting–”

“Just go on a date with me!” He raised his voice slightly with aggravation, teasing annoyance because he knew you were being difficult on purpose. You couldn’t help but giggle as he pretended to squish your cheeks when in reality, he was forcing down his cute aggression to keep from taking a loving bite out of you.

Your cheeks warmed up at his reaction, endearing and all together cute. He was a weird combination of adorable and sexy, even now with strands of his hair falling in front of his face, glasses hanging on the front of his shirt but a gold chain peeking out from behind the neckline that would look so good dangling in your face. You couldn’t help taking the glasses and opening them, slipping it onto his face. Hyunjin let you toy with his look by lightly brushing his hair away and pulling the necklace out of its hiding place. He raised his eyebrows when you were done. The skin of his neck tingled from where your fingertips had barely grazed.

“If you dress like this, I’m all yours.”

For a second, he didn’t know what to say as that was all he wanted to hear. For all of the smooth moves and suave lines, there were the split moments where he radiated nothing but dorkiness wanting to flood out.

“If you keep saying things like that, I might just kiss you.”

“What’s stopping you?”

“I– I don’t really know.” There it was, eyebrows knit together in genuine confusion.

While he sulked back into the cushion, you placed a gentle hand over his, just gauging the touch barrier. Hyunjin didn’t seem to mind, but rather he intertwined his fingers with yours as he fell deeper into thought. “I wanna go on a date with you,” the admittance had him darting you a quick, hopeful glance. “But, I don’t know how to do this.”

“That’s okay!” He was quick to perk up and make your grimace back a little at his sudden burst in energy. Hyunjin tightened his grip on your hand for reassurance. “I think our expertise just lies in different areas.”

“I’m not following.”

He jutted out his bottom lip with fake sympathy, scratching the underside of your chin. “If you didn’t notice, I’m not the most intuitive when it comes to sex.”

That was a shock. “I dunno about that,” an honest answer that made him shy away with a laugh.

“My experience is incomparable to yours, and not in a bad way! Just, maybe there were some things I was missing.”

You thought back to the moment you had with him, how unsure he seemed when you spoke about sex and masturbation, he seemed truly mind blown and eager to know more. 

“And I can tell, you haven’t had the easiest times with relationships. I think we can learn from each other.”

“This feels like a weird, illegal exchange.” You frowned again. “But I kinda like it.”

His heart raced, yours was beating a million miles an hour. There was a tension in the air that could’ve gone one of two ways. The first being that you pop open a bottle of wine and put on a good movie. There’s chocolate truffles in the cupboard, you could always grab a bowl to have with the wine. Sweet compliments sweet, Hyunjin might enjoy it. Perhaps you could end the night with a kiss, maybe a cuddle if it went that far. You’d see him again, you didn’t have a doubt about it. You’ve got his number now, there’s no more excuses.

The second, was how things actually went.

You mentally thanked your friend for giving you these dim lights for the living room, they made his honey skin look so edible.

Hyunjin doesn’t know when it happened, you don’t know when it happened. Just that there were half finished glasses of wine on the coffee table, the movie long passed the rolling credits, and that you were on your knees between his legs, staring at his cock with the roundest, glitteriest eyes he’d ever seen.

Your bra strap was slipping off your shoulder along with the entire cup threatening to be overflowed by your breast, he wished it would. More than that, he wished you would stop teasing him. All you were doing was tracing the pad of your finger over his slit, collecting the leaking precum and spreading it around the tip. The warmth of your breath splayed over the skin of his pelvis made goosebumps rise across every inch of his skin, giggling as he shivered.

“How did this even– ah, ah– happen?”

Vibrations of your chuckle prolonged his shuddering, “dunno. I’m not upset about it, though. Unless… unless you are?” You backed away from his cock and expression replaced with something dead serious.

“No, no! God, please keep going.” Hyunjin reached out to thread his fingers in your hair, but a quick slap on his wrist made him retreat.

“Nuh, uh. You haven’t earned that yet.”

Hyunjin repressed a groan, “sorry, sorry.”

He felt overly exposed even if you were just as naked as he was, you actually more so than him. The blurred memory of how this even started was brought back when he glanced at your discarded shirt hanging on the armrest of the couch, your house shorts and his white tee in another pile on the ground next to you. His pants and boxers were puddled around his ankles, and that was what made his face burn. Whatever was to happen next, say you wanted him to carry you to the bedroom or pin you against the wall, he’d literally be caught with them around his ankles. It’s a problem he can’t put on to you, but it still made him flustered nonetheless.

You were a few inches from his bare southern region, now, having to sit up taller so that his leaking dick didn’t obstruct from maintaining eye contact with him. “I… really like you,” tone as small as it could go without turning into a whisper.

“I really like you, too.” As antsy and anxious as he was, Hyunjin restrained from bucking into your face.

“There’s something I wanna do, only if you wanna, too. I think you might like it? Y– you can say no! No hard feelings! I just think that I’ll be seeing you a lot a– and you already know what my job is–”

He leaned forward to tip your chin higher, “I trust you.”

Blush covered your cheeks in a millisecond and it made Hyunjin smile smugly. When you turned around to grab your phone on the coffee table and prop it up against the wine bottle, he got the idea. Before you unlocked it, you spun back to face him. “I need you to say that this is okay.” Not that you didn’t trust him, as well, but you have every reason not to. Not just morally, but this was your career on the line if something were to go haywire.

“I am okay with this. Turn on the camera.”

You nodded excitedly, “this is just for us.”

The angle at which you positioned your phone made it so that his face wasn’t showing, only the view of your body between his knees sitting prettily for him. Hyunjin could see the screen and throbbed even harder, he was torn between looking at you and looking at the hottest video you’ve ever made to date. Or, about to make– with him. Even if no one else is ever going to see this, the act of being recorded made him harder than he’s ever been.

Blipping of the recording being started, you settled comfortably again locked between his legs. Hands strolling up the insides of his naked thighs, Hyunjin’s breath grew heavier the closer in you came. He could feel your body heat again as he prayed you would hurry up. The camera couldn’t pick up the way you ogled his cock, the way you licked your lips, or the way you looked up at him through your lashes just as you stuck the tip of your tongue out to gather the bead precum and swallow. Hyunjin let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in and the sound of his sigh made you giggle again.

“Can I?” You asked all too sweetly for what it is you wanted.

“Please.”

“So kind,” praised before he was about to be destroyed.

Absolutely obliterated, total annihilation, earth-splitting and volcanoes erupting the same way he did as soon as your mouth took in the tip of his cock. He blew on the spot, and you sucked him through his orgasm until he was dry and shriveled up with embarrassment. “Fuck– god, oh my– fuck, I‘m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He continued to twitch into your mouth as you licked up whatever remained.

It didn’t even seem to phase you, his premature finish was more than worthy of a few reprimands, possibly making him leave all together and deleting his number. Less than satisfactory. But it made you all the more excited. Where he crumbled is where you saw potential to create skyscrapers of pleasure, all intended to blow his mind.

An easy swallow of his seed down your throat, you kissed the inside of his thighs in reassurance. “‘S okay. I liked it,” honest as honest can be.

“Tell me if I should pull my pants up and leave so I can save whatever dignity I have left.”

“Dignity is overrated. Degradation is a whooole lot more fun. Plus,” showing off his whiteness on your tongue, you licked a stripe up the center of his dick and Hyunjin shuddered again, “you’re really sensitive.”

Hyunjin sat back and let it happen to him, he couldn’t find the strength to so much as tell you when he was about to cum again because it was so painfully good. It didn’t take very long or very much effort on your part, simply having to massage his balls and pinch the skin of his pelvis while your tongue worked minimal magic as you kept him sheathed in your warm, wet mouth. His nails raked across the couch cushion in a way that made you feel a little bad that he couldn’t touch you. Just a little. “Did so good for me. Think you can do one more, baby?”

He was on the verge of saying no, until you stood up. Amidst his plummeting energy and evergrowing sensitivity, Hyunjin didn’t have half the mind to remember that you were just as needy as he was. You were having so much fun playing with him that you almost forgot, as well. The face he makes when he cums is the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, you were this close to rutting against his leg like a fucking dog. You’d do it, too, shamelessly. However, you figured you could save that for another day. This was about him. 

You stood, ass taking up the entire view in the camera. You let him watch you strip, unclipping your bra and tossing it somewhere forgotten. Evening the score, you tugged at the hem of his tank top to discard, although you were teetering back and forth on letting him keep it on. Next off was your panties, left along on the floor before you began to climb into his lap.

Oh god, you were straddling him. Really straddling him. Wet pussy on full display, knees spread and so close to his cock that he could feel the dampness on his own skin. Or was that just cus you were sloppy earlier? He didn’t care, nor did he have to try to get hard again seeing as he never went soft.

You didn’t sit fully, hovering over him with the only skin touching being your thighs on his and your arms draped over his shoulder. Hyunjin found comfort in the heat as you wiped away the sweaty hair sticking to his forehead, leaning deeper into your touch. When you dragged your hands down his arms to guide them to hold onto your waist, he struggled not to buck his hips up into you. He thought about how you might laugh when you rewatch the footage later, but Hyunjin couldn’t bring himself to care no matter how ridiculous it looked. He knows that he was rutting into nothing but the air, but the increase in heat when he got close to your cunt was more than satisfactory if you decided it wasn’t what you wanted.

Except you were ready to go for it and was reaching for the side drawer for condoms, even if it meant overstimulating him even more. He wouldn’t protest, he wanted it just as much. “Are you okay?” You asked concerned when he tucked his face into your shoulder.

“Mhm,” he muttered against you, “want you so bad.”

You reached back and between his legs, dragging a delicate finger up from the bottom of his balls to the base of his cock. Hyunjin trembled and molded deeper into your frame. You chuckled, “I can tell, baby. But can you handle it? You’re so worked up already, I don’t wanna break you when we’re just getting started.”

“I can, I can!” He looked up at you with glistening eyes, full of tears and determination. “Please, please, please.” Hyunjin’s hips bucked up again, hitting the inside of your thigh and you pushing him back down.

“Calm, baby. We’ve got all the time in the world. Deep breaths, now.”

Hyunjin followed your lead when you inhaled through your nose and let out a deep exhale. He continued to do so even though you were pressing your lips to his forehead, even though you were trailing them across his cheeks and skipping over his lips. He puckered them, ready to be suffocated by your kisses. But when you planted just a peck on his, he audibly whimpered, to which you laughed and continued down his neck.

Oh, he was extra sensitive there. And when you sat back on his knees to tweak both his nipples? Ascendance.

Hyunjin threw his head back and moaned just as loud as he did when you put him in your mouth. “No, no, don’t wanna cum again,” he murmured, but didn’t try to resist your touch.

Still, you pulled away and placed your hands on his chest. “No? Too much?”

“Wanna make you cum first,” he suddenly grasped the undersides of your thighs and lifted the two of you off the couch. Neither of you had noticed his shins knocking the coffee table as he laid you on your back lengthwise with the couch, lifting your legs up so he could slot himself between them and over his shoulders.

It was a pleasant surprise, his display in strength and stamina, you were proud that he could keep going. The off-guard giggle you let out only spurred him to continue, cupping both your cheeks and stealing the kiss for himself. You couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to as he fit against you so perfectly. Cut through the tension like a knife did the passionate kiss prove to both of you that it was more than just physical attraction. Still, sometimes words do speak louder than actions.

You reached between your bodies to guide him towards your entrance, needing nothing but a moan against his lips to confirm to go further. The stretch was more than you anticipated, burning so euphorically good with a side of neediness for him to move faster. As if you could take all of him in one go, foolish. It’d been a long while since you’d been with someone worthy of sticking their dick in you, this was much different than a plastic toy.

Though, he was worth the wait, even if it did make you pathetically whimper into his mouth. It was just the ego boost he needed, no longer feeling ashamed of his previous poor performance. You still wanted more, you were clawing at his biceps and he was swallowing every one of your moans until his thighs met your ass cheeks.

He wanted to blow for a third time just being inside you, feeling the pulsing of your walls and slick dripping down his balls. Hyunjin used every muscle in him not to begin fucking into you like an animal, brain somehow stronger than the primal need inside him. But while he watched for any sign that you were uncomfortable, trying to be overly vigilant that he wasn’t truly paying attention to see you locking your ankles behind his neck and beginning to fuck yourself back and forth on his cock. His hands were planted near your head, realizing what it is you were doing when you bit your lip and held onto his wrists.

Hyunjin laughed into the air, the kind of laugh as though he had just won the lottery because holy fuck, he did. He watched as you bounced up and down, swiveled side to side, using him like one of your dildos suction cupped to the wall. Except he was the dildo, being used and abused until you felt satisfied. 

“So tight– so hot ‘nd wet. God, you’re so cute, oh my god. Don’t ever stop fucking me, please, please. So good, too good.”

The drip of his sweat from his forehead onto yours broke your cock-induced fever, “why am I doing all the work, baby? You started this, so finish it.” You stopped dead in your tracks and slumped back into the couch.

Hyunjin was more than happy to fuck you silly, if he hadn’t already cum twice and was running on fumes. Alas, he did his best and it was perfectly enough. You had run him ragged for your first time having sex, you couldn’t blame him for being sloppy. 

His best was still better than average, even if his pants were still stuck around his ankles. As he stood up straight and took the hook of your knees into his hands, Hyunjin let his head fall back to summon whatever energy he had left stored in the tank. Surprisingly, it was a lot. He was dripping in sweat, down his temples, neck, and chest and red blush had flushed his supple skin, but he was still the prettiest thing you’d ever seen.

He could say the same thing about you. Although your state was less messy than his, you still looked absolutely fucked out and desperate. Teeth sunk into your bottom lip so hard he was scared you would draw blood, pinching your nipples and occasionally reaching up to claw at his chest. You and him were both worked up and on the verge of crying like a bunch of babies overstimulated by everything around them. 

Your fingers found their way to your clit once he started to move, fast and unrestrained while trying not to blow before you again. Just perfectly did he fit inside you to the point where you were really questioning how the hell you had sex with other people when he was right there all along. This was nothing like your past experiences, fuck whatever it was Hyunjin thought they were like, this was something else entirely. Like waking up on Sunday morning thinking it’s Monday and being able to blissfully fall back asleep. The day when you have no responsibilities or weight on your shoulders and all you feel is relaxed. When you have nothing to do but wake up at noon to feed yourself then crawl back to bed to loaf. A lover coming home after months apart and being able to inhale their scent like it’s the first time all over again. The first cold day of autumn and the first warm day of spring. He’s Sunday. 

Hips against hips, skin slapping skin, sweat mixing and creating the particular cloud of odor where anyone who walked in would know what the two of you did. Hyunjin would stick his tongue out in concentration to make sure he was repeatedly hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back and toes curl. He was so good at it that after a while, he didn’t need to hold you up anymore. 

Eventually he let your legs rest around his waist so he could hunch over you again, kissing your lips so sweetly in stark contrast to how hard his cock was prodding into your soft spot. He wasn’t moving roughly, but rather strong strokes that made you really feel his entire length slipping in and out of your aching cunt. Slick sounds of your bodies connecting layered the already adulterous moans leaving the both of you, your neighbors will for sure have a complaint about it tomorrow.

Hyunjin fell onto his elbows, millimeters from your face as his thrusts slowed. The way he looked at you, as though he’d set his eyes on the most sought after piece of art. In a way, he was. Of all the people that have seen you completely bare and beg for your attention, all the people you’ve met, spoken to, kissed, fucked, he couldn’t bring himself to care about any of that because you were under him now.

The almost stagnant nature of his movements wasn’t frustrating or annoying. You enjoyed it, more than any kind of rough or needy sex you’ve had with past partners. He wasn’t touching you like you usually would’ve needed, but still felt the bubble in your stomach wanting to burst. If he kept looking at you like, if he kept kissing you so delicately and fucking you just like this, it will.

His palm brushed the hair from your face, keeping it on the top of your head as if to surround you in purely him. 

“My sweetheart.”

Why was that what had to make the bubble pop? As soon as the words left his mouth and you saw the smitten smile on his face, your legs locked around his waist and nails raked down his back as white heat suffocated your body. You felt his face hide in your neck and latch onto the skin above your pulse, sucking a bruising mark as you came down and it was your turn to be covered in goosebumps. Hyunjin hadn’t realized he’d cum again until you were hugging him tighter to your chest, falling limp on top of you and all the adrenaline finally wearing off.

Nuzzled tight into him until both your breaths were regular and in sync, shutting your eyes while his tongue kitten licked over the sore spots he’d been teething at, neither of you wanted to leave from behind the thin veils of bliss. Though, returning to reality with him didn’t seem so bad.

“Baby, clean up time,” you cooed in his ear, to which you got no response but a soft snore. The giggle that left your lips was hushed to let him rest a little longer. But after a few minutes, the stickiness of the sweat was becoming uncomfortable, scratching his scalp a bit harder to gently wake him. Hyunjin hummed into you as he acknowledged the signal. “C’mon Hyune, shower.”

Wordlessly, he clambered off of you and let you lead him to the bathroom again, stopping in the hallways for towels together so that you wouldn’t have to leave him alone. Similar routine to last time except when it was time for you to clean, he opted to stand out of the shower stream until you were finished because he wanted to stay as close to you as possible. 

And when the both of you were clean, dry, and ready for bed, Hyunjin spoke again as you walked hand in hand into your bedroom. “You called me Hyune.”

“Hm? That’s your name, isn’t it?” You smirked and pulled him deeper into the room. For a second, he took a look around and immediately felt like he’d been here before, comfortably familiar. 

As you guided him towards the bed and lifted the cover for him to slide under, he suddenly woke up from your unintentional trance. “No, Hyune’s a nickname.”

“Is it okay if I call you Hyune?” A soft question as you get into bed beside him, the pair of you shamelessly naked and tangled in one another’s limbs. 

“Yeah, or baby.” You nodded against the pillow, sweeping a hand through his hair again when he rolled on his side to face you.

The two of you stared at one another for what could’ve been minutes or hours, neither of you knew. But you were on the verge of falling asleep as he placed a supple kiss on your forehead. It sparked the small memory of the long forgotten phone that had recorded the entire event. It jolted him awake as well when you suddenly got up from bed to run through the apartment to retrieve it.

Hyunjin was sat up on his elbows when you returned and gratefully took in the sight of you naked once again, feeling light as a feather.

You had ended the recording and pulled up the video to realize it was four hours long. Hyunjin gawked and laughed when he saw the time stamp. He rolled onto his back and opened his arms for you to lay in as you watched the video together.

Everything was just as he’d seen it happening from the beginning until you took off your undergarments. If the both of you weren’t deadbeat tired, it probably would’ve turned you on and sparked a second round. Instead you both could watch it with admiration and fondness.

“Oh, that was so sexy when you did that,” he said in reference to you running a finger across his balls as you straddled him.

“I like when you hold me like this,” you commented about how far and tightly his arms wrapped around your torso.

You both criticized and critiqued the video, only able to find positives to praise one another about until it was time for him to flip the positions. The clip showed Hyunjin lifting you up then standing, and suddenly the table shook and the camera tipped over. The frame showed the opposite end of the couch that you were on, the only thing on screen being the tail end of your lower halves, mostly his ass in the air and your feet dangling in the air. You both burst into a deep gutted laugh and were unable to catch your breaths at how funny the scene looked from that angle.

“Everything was so good!” You joked, pausing the video and zooming in to see his butt in the air.

“I don’t even remember hitting the table,” he admitted while taking the phone and looking closer. “At least my butt looks good.”

“You do have a cute butt.”

“Look at your little feet!” He zoomed into your feet just barely in the upper right corner of the frame.

“Not for free!” Snatching the phone back, you lock it and toss it onto the bedside table.

“I was literally balls deep in you and you’re worried about me seeing your feet?”

“That’s different!”

He rolled his eyes and untucked his arm from beneath your head to lay his own on your chest. “Whatever. I’m not a big foot guy anyways.”

“That thing poking my thigh says otherwise.”

“I can’t even feel my dick right now, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

☆ﾟ

tags: @babebatter @changbinluvr @epiphanynaffit @fawnpeaks @linovely @dumplinbokkieracha @finnydraws @naturules @djeniryuu @skzhomiehopper @yesv01 @hyunjinsamdl @dazzlingligth @alexis-reads-fics @0002linoskitten @chillichillicrabcrab23 @zerefdragn33l @straycrescent @binnies-donuts @soldierstangirl-blog @bakedlilgoonie @levanterlily @shelbyyy44 @yeetmehome @in2heartz @astroodledream @the-sweetest-rose @lilbugs-things @viviennenstan @staurdvst @alex--awesome--22 @imzenning @jeyelleohe @iadorethemskz @skyvastbunny @mamabymychem @katsukis1wife @woozarts @noellllslut @straykids5star @like-a-diamondinthesky

[teddynivvy]

kinktober day 19 - dare with ted nivison

warnings: college!ted, she/her pronouns used, they don’t fuck in this one sorry

ted could feel the alcohol flowing through his veins as he took a drag of the vape in his hand. blowing out a cloud of smoke into the stuffy basement, he lost his train of thought as he gazed across the room, seeing you leaned up against a door frame and having a conversation with someone else in your class. his friends rolled his eyes, one of them suddenly slapping him on the arm. “dude!” “sorry, sorry.” “i dare you to go talk to her. i bet you won’t.”

ted had had a crush on you since the first time he spoke to you in a class you had together, but could never find it in him to ask you out. so you exchanged pleasantries at parties when you could, and he admired from afar. but, when your friend went to get more drinks and left you alone for a second, ted felt the need to swoop in. when he appeared before you, you smiled up at him, watching as he searched for the words.

“hi,” was what he landed on, which made you blush. “hi ted,” you returned, taking the last sip of your drink. the music was loud and you could barely hear him when he replied, so you decided to grab his arm and pull him up the stairs. surprised, he followed you, out the back of the house into the cold october air.

“sorry, it was stuffy down there,” you smiled. ted nodded in agreement, beginning to make awkward small talk with you as you leaned against the side of the house. you agreed along with him, talking about your classes, interests, graduation, until you were both in fits of laughter.

“i’m surprised we haven’t talked more,” you laughed, taking the slim vape from his hand and taking a hit. “i didn’t realize we had so much in common.” ted laughed and kicked at the dirt below. “well, actually, my friends…” he trailed off, realizing that he was about to admit something horrifically embarrassing. “what?” “oh, uh, my friends actually… dared me to talk to you.” you raised your eyebrows in confusion, meeting his soft brown eyes. “dared you? oh man…” you started to laugh. “why did you have to be dared? that’s embarrassing for me.”

ted’s expression turned frantic. “no! not like, in a bad way, i just…” he fought for the words. “i kinda have a crush on you. but we never talk so i thought it would be weird.” you blushed, stepping closer to him and taking in the scent of his cologne. “is it weird now?” he looked down at you and smirked while you bit down on your lip. ted scoffed a little to himself, before letting his hand come across your cheek.

“no, i guess not.” his lips pressed to yours, softly at first, before pulling you into him. your hands found his waist, and then his hair, before he pushed you back against the side of the house. he tasted of fruity alcohol and smelled like too much cologne, but you didn’t care. his hair was soft in your fingers as you tugged on it lightly, as he opened his jaw slightly to slide his tongue in.

he moaned into your mouth, grasping at your hips, and then down to your ass. feeling like he was impossibly close, you groaned, head beginning to spin. feeling his body press to yours, hot breath and hands everywhere, tongues pressing together softly.

when he finally pulled away, you took in a soft breath, lips glistening in the moonlight. ted looked lost for words hands still securely around your waist. you laughed a little to yourself, feeling your hands drop to his chest. leaning into him a little, he finally cracked a smirk. “wanna take me home?” he nodded, grabbing your hand to lead you back inside.

[pollymorgan]

Teacher Negan - The Football Game - Part 2

Warnings: A very large age difference and of course, smut

Arriving at Negan's, I am somewhat surprised by his interior. The house is really much more unassuming than I had imagined, but I don't have much time to look around. Immediately, he grabs my upper arm and pulls me back towards him to kiss me. Without letting go of me, he slowly guides me towards the hallway. My heart is pounding like crazy in my chest. I had never had sex with a man like him before, and the whole situation is completely new to me. But I want it, and every moment feels so incredibly good. As he shows me the way, I take off his jacket and let it fall carelessly to the floor, then I start to unbutton the small buttons of his shirt with slightly trembling fingers.

With a grin, he opens the door behind me "Here we are..." he says contentedly and switches on the light switch, which is located to the right of the door.

I feel his hands wandering to my thighs and slowly pulling my dress over my butt. His right hand briefly leaves my butt and he makes a quick movement to knock something over that is on the dresser behind me. Probably a photo of his wife. In the corner of my eye, I had seen a picture frame there. What an asshole! But I don't give it any further thought, all that matters now is how incredibly his skin feels against mine.

He pulls away from my lips and looks at me intently, then he pushes a strand of hair away from my face and asks, "How do you like to be fucked, come on, tell me, little one. Do you like it from behind, or do you prefer to be on top?"

"I...I...don't know..." I say with a slightly trembling voice.

Negan laughs mockingly, "I absolutely don't believe you, sweetie."

With a skilled movement, he turns me around and with a flat hand, presses my upper body onto his bed, so that I automatically stick out my butt, which is only covered by a black thong. Then he slides his hand directly between my legs, while the other still presses me onto the bed. Two of his fingers slide over my panties and make me moan softly. He presses firmly against my vaginal entrance, which is only covered by the thin fabric. Immediately, everything tightens in my lower abdomen. I need him so desperately inside me.

"Damn, your panties are soaking wet! Would you like it if I took you from behind right now?"

"Yes!" I say convincingly, because I finally need to feel him. He gives me a slap on my butt and then turns me around so that I am sitting in front of him and looking directly at him again. My whole body feels like it's on fire and about to explode at any moment.

"But I promised you that I would spoil you first..." he says, as he grabs my thong at the side and slowly pulls it down. I lift my butt so that he can easily pull it off completely.

He grins satisfactorily, "Come on, spread your legs for me..."

I immediately do as he says. Determined, I slide a bit further onto the bed and open my legs, without breaking eye contact with him, while he quickly unbuttons his shirt and exposes his slim upper body. His dark chest hair and tattoos make him look even hotter, although I thought it was hardly possible. I watch him as I lie on my forearms in front of him and when I see him open his pants and finally stand there in just his boxers, I bite my lower lip.

"Come on, baby, a little more..." he commands, and I spread my legs even further. But I would probably do everything he tells me to do right now.

With the words, "Look at yourself, so damn perfect..." he kneels between my legs.

His beard scratches against the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, and when I feel his warm breath against my most intimate area, I feel like I could climax just from that sensation alone. Still leaning on my forearms, I watch eagerly every movement of the attractive man. But when his soft lips press gently against my labia for the first time, the feeling is so intense that I completely collapse onto my back. What he does with his mouth makes me moan his name loudly. With his tongue, he skillfully traces eights and briefly touches every spot that sends shivers down my spine. But always just long enough for me to feel like I'm on the verge of orgasm. He knows exactly what he's doing. And this rollercoaster of emotions makes my body tremble.

I can't take it anymore and beg him, "Please Negan, please let me come.." as I grab his hair and press his head even harder between my legs. Finally, he focuses solely on my swollen clitoris. Quickly and with slight pressure, he repeatedly runs his tongue over the most sensitive point of my body. I feel everything tighten inside me. I arch my back and come so intensely that it feels like I can barely handle it. He immediately climbs up to my level and lies down next to me on the bed. He looks incredibly good. His dark eyes sparkle with lust as he looks at me, and his lips are moist with my wetness. Just as I am about to kiss him, he stops me by placing his thumb on my chin.

"Wait, sweetie, first I want you to sit on my face with your perfect pussy..."

I look at him in surprise. Just moments ago, I had experienced an incredible orgasm, I am breathing heavily, and my heart is racing as if I had just run a marathon.

"I...I can't do that...it's too much..." I stammer, breathing heavily.

Negan just grins at me, "Oh, baby, you can do it...Go ahead, hold onto the bed frame and just let go..."

He moves up a bit until he's lying at the head of the bed. I watch him and consider what to do, but he doesn't need any more convincing. I immediately climb onto him and slowly kneel over his face. I timidly push my hips towards him. Every touch feels so sensitive that I fear I may not be able to handle his caresses.

"Not so shy, I promise you'll enjoy it..." With those words, he grips my hips and presses me firmly onto his mouth. The bed frame was a good hint, because otherwise, I probably would have completely lost my balance. I hold onto the cool bars tightly and feel his tongue penetrating me. He gently sucks up the moisture and touches my incredibly sensitive clitoris very gently. I never thought the feeling from earlier could be surpassed.

"Yes, just like that!" I moan unabashedly, letting my head fall back. My second climax hits me unexpectedly, making my legs tremble.

I am so exhausted that I would love to just collapse into bed. But Negan naturally has other plans.

"Sit on my cock, sweetie. I want to see you push it deep inside you! But first, take off that damn dress..."

Completely out of breath, I slide further down and sit on his thighs. Then I pull my dress over my head and now sit completely naked on him. Determined, I pull down his boxers, and he helps me to completely free him from them.

I look at his erect penis intently, and the sight makes everything tighten inside me again. He is so big and rock hard. His glistening tip is moist with precum. And his shaft is covered with thick veins. Just the thought of how it will feel when it rubs deep inside me against my vaginal walls makes me moan softly. I would love to take him in my mouth right now. I don't really like blowjobs, but the thought of running my tongue over him, tasting and pleasuring him, excites me even more.

But there must be time for that later.

Determined, I grasp his penis with my hand. Oh man, he feels fantastic. I lift my hips and kneel directly over him. Then I press him against my wet vaginal entrance and slowly let myself glide onto him. I feel him stretching me more and more, enjoying every inch thoroughly. It's so intense that I close my eyes and bite my lip. Yet, I can't suppress my moans.

"No, don't close your eyes. Look at me..." he says, breathing heavily.

I immediately react to his demand, and when his gaze meets mine directly, the whole feeling inside me intensifies even more.

"Do you like it?" he asks confidently.

"I love it!" I whisper slightly louder than intended, which makes him grin contentedly. He then grips my hips and presses me completely onto him. I need a moment to get used to his size, then I start to slowly rotate my hips. I lean back, supporting myself on his thighs with my hands. Negan's hands move further up to my breasts, which feel incredibly heavy with excitement. My nipples are sensitive, and his deliberate touches make them even harder.

Now I change my position and squat properly on him. This way, I can move up and down even better. He watches appreciatively as his penis repeatedly slides deep into me.

"This sight is insane, little one...Your sweet pussy is getting everything wet...Come on, spread your legs even more...Let me see everything in detail..." he demands, and I immediately comply. My moans, his heavy breathing, and the sound of our bodies colliding fill the room.

After a short while, he grabs my upper arm and pulls me abruptly towards him. Our kiss is so stormy that our teeth clatter together. Negan turns me over with a swift movement. It happens so quickly that I only realize he is suddenly lying on top of me.

With his right hand propped up next to my head on the mattress, he uses his left hand to grab my knee and push my leg up against my body. In this position, he enters me at a completely different angle and feels even deeper inside me. I startle, fearing he might hurt me with how far he is inside me, and instinctively push my hands against his hips.

Surprised, he stops his movement and looks at me with concern. "Are you okay?"

I nod frantically and say, "Yes, yes, really...it's just...I've never been fucked so well, it's all so intense!"

He smiles satisfactorily at me and then slowly and cautiously goes even further into me. Then he rests his burning hot forehead against mine and whispers, "Relax, baby. Focus entirely on the feeling in your perfect pussy now..."

I nod slightly and his movements become even slower and more targeted. He almost completely withdraws from me repeatedly, only to slide back in with his full length.

"It's good like this... Let's come together. I want to feel my cock bring you to climax...can it do that?"

"Oh yes!" I breathe completely breathless, feeling him achieve what I never thought possible. My lower abdomen tightens in waves faster and faster.

"That's it..." he says before groaning loudly, and I feel his warm sperm shooting deep inside me. This feeling is so overwhelming that I climax intensely again.

The next morning, I wake up and have to realize where I am. My gaze sweeps through his bedroom, feeling his naked body pressed firmly against mine. Thoughts of the incredible sex from the night before rush through my mind, sending a warm feeling through me. His steady breath warms my neck. Suddenly, my heart almost stops. Hanging over the back of a chair is a training jacket with the logo of my future school. What does this mean? I quickly turn to him. "Negan, hey..." I wake him quite abruptly.

"What's wrong?" he mumbles sleepily.

"The jacket, what does it mean?" I ask excitedly, pointing to it.

He lifts his upper body wearily to see what I mean. "Why are you getting so worked up? It's just a training jacket from my damn school!"

"What do you mean? Your school??"

"The school where I am a teacher..?" he says gently, kissing my naked shoulder. Before I abruptly clap my hands over my head and push him away.

"Please let this not be true, say it's not true..." I whisper more to myself.

Negan props himself up on his forearm and looks at me in surprise. "What the fucking hell do you mean? What shouldn't be true?"

I cover my face with my palms, hoping to simply disappear.

"I think I have something to confess to you..." I whisper with a trembling voice.

[gothic-thoughts]

Wrath Of The Rock

(sorry it's so late i was on a family vacay 🙏🏾🙏🏾)

Zhongli x Black Fem Reader Smut

Employee!Reader, No Powers!reader

CW: protected sex (he would, we stan😩), against the wall, on the bed, Zhongli's way of dirty talking (lol wut), Not Proofread

Word Count: 1498 (give or take)

I tried everything! I tried hiding stuff from his desk and asking him dumb questions but nothing worked, he seemed to brush it off by shaking his head and chuckling as he walked away. How is that man so calm and collected? It’s incredible. I wanna try harder but I don't wanna be toxic, I just wanna see if he can actually get annoyed. Three soft knocks suddenly echo from my door.

"(Y/n), are you awake?"

Speak of the devil. "Yeah, hold on!" I jog to the door and open it revealing the tall, brunette man, "Yes Zhongli? Isn't it a little late for funeral planning?"

"Apologies, but this isn’t funeral parlor related.”

My heart drops. “Oh...”

“Unless, you’re busy at the moment... may I come in?”

I’m so fired. I nod as I back into my room, allowing him to walk in and close the door, locking it behind him. He just... Does he know that--

“Now then, I came to discuss our agreement.” He pinches the fingers of his gloves, pulling one off after the other, “Do you know why that is?”

"I- uh... no.”

“Because you dishonored it, (Y/n). You know how I feel about that.”

Zhongli stalks forward with that same calm demeanor, making me back away and further into my room. He placed down his gloves on my dresser as he walked and before I knew it, I felt the chill of the wall against my back and straightened up, knowing I wasn’t going to escape his scolding or even rage if he showed it. I don’t even know what I did.

“Our agreement...” He unbuttons his coat, sliding it down his arms and gently laying it on the foot of my bed, “Was that, aside from anything of importance, you would have no contact with Childe. Do you recall?”

“...Yes...”

“And yet I saw you and him talking just outside Liyue’s entrance.”

“I thought it was important.”

His waistcoat was the next to be unbuttoned, “Then you should’ve excused yourself the moment you knew it wasn’t, not stay and joke around with him.”

“What, but we were just talking, it wasn't a big deal, Li. Why do you think he’s so dangerous?”

“It's not him I'm worried about. I’ve told you why before you agreed to my conditions...” He loosens and pulls off his tie, “That man is the target of many dangerous people and loves to engage in combat with said people."

"But--"

"And on top of that you were outside of Liyue’s gates— vulnerable to any other monsters out there that would've found you interesting.”

I watch as he undresses until his open shirt frames his abs and ends up pushing the thought of struggling or leaving out of my mind. I've gotten this far, right? I nod, feigning defeat as he starts to undo his pants to reveal the long bulge hiding behind his boxers. I bite my lip trying not to look directly at it.

“Now, you have to face the punishment for your disloyalty.” Zhongli whispered, “Will you accept it willingly?”

"Yes."

"Prove it."

I nod eagerly, turning around and pressing my face and clothed breasts against the wall, pushing my lower half back to him with a small wiggle. I hear a deep chuckle from behind me as my large slim hand rests on my hip and he helps my butt meet his bulge. I shiver and press my hands on the wall.

“I suppose I did say willingly, huh?” He chuckles, dropping my pants and underwear to my ankles.

“I can’t help it, I never seen you like this...”

Zhongli chuckles lowly and leans down close to the shell of my ear as he gently pushes my legs apart and rubs his hand along the curve of my ass. His hand trails down to my pussy, the slim middle finger slowly sliding through my wetness while he hums at the feeling.

“You’ve never seen me when I’m punishing disloyalty?” His finger strokes my clit, “When I’m upholding the consequences of a broken contract?"

My back arches. “No...”

“Hm...” His finger drags from my clit to sink into my wet hole, “Really now? And you’ve never been on the receiving end either...?”

“No.”

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing this isn’t your punishment. This wouldn’t really be a punishment if you enjoyed it, (Y/n).”

“What?”

He pulls his hand away and slowly pushes his pants and underwear until his long, bare cock was resting against my ass. I hear the crinkling of a wrapper and a small ripping sound before his shaft was lifted from my lower back-- only a moment before it was slotted between my thighs. I looked down at it to see it now wrapped in thin, amber-colored rubber, holding my breath as my thoughts raced.

Fuck, he looks bigger than I thought. How rough is he gonna be, it’s Zhongli, right? He wouldn’t be rough... Zhongli held my hips firmly, keeping me in place as he slowly pushed his dick inside me, counting every exact inch while I stretched and squeezed around him eagerly until he reached eight. He growled, tightening his grip as his hips pulled back to thrust in deeply. I gasp out, fingers bracing on the wall.

“Are you enjoying this?”

“I-Is this a test?”

“I told you this part isn’t your punishment.”

“Then wh-what is this part?”

“The cause.”

My legs wobble from the weight of his body pressed against me matched with the weight of his cock twitching inside me, every vein stroking against my warm and inviting walls. Zhongli pulls back again and holds my hips as he starts fucking into me at a quick and deep pace, leaving me to whimper his name helplessly. I reach behind and push on his lower stomach, in an attempt to slow his thrusts when he grabs my wrist and holds it behind my back with a soft grunt.

“Shhh, you told me you’d take it willingly... Or was that another lie...?”

“N-No, it’s just so deep.”

“Of course. You know I am a very thorough man.”

His thrusts got faster and his tip started to gently kiss my cervix as if it were warning me of what was soon to come. I came for the first time, making me gasp out and grip the wall while he merely hummed at the extra tightness. Zhongli's arm wrapped around my waist held me tight against him, and groaned out as he pounded into my cunt harder than before, making me throw my head back and look up at his stoic face while digging my nails into the white paint of my room wall.

"That's it, oh yes... you're clenching so beautifully around my shaft. It's almost as if you want your punishment.” He drops his voice to another whisper, “And if that’s the case then I should just pull out right now."

“No! N-no, I don’t want it...” I lied, fingers pressing hard into the wall, “I don’t... ah~”

“Come to think of it, your legs aren’t trembling enough... And your eyes don’t seem to be glazed... hm.”

He suddenly picked me up and dropped me onto my bed before he sinks his cock back in, his tip back against my cervix. His determined eyes locked with mine while his cock resumed its pace, not even bothering to start off slow. Zhongli's quick, deep strokes bounce me on my mattress under us, making the headboard collide with the wall every time his cockhead met my cervix.

"T-too much! You're making me loud, someone's gonna hear us!"

"Ungh, it's only loud because you're screaming." His thrusts deepen with every word, "You just need to stay quiet."

"C-Can't... "

He slows down, drawing away his orgasm before pounding into me at the previous pace, pushing me closer to the edge as my cunt squeezes and flexes around him.

"Oh yes, so...much...tighter..." Zhongli grabs my thighs and throws them over his shoulders as his pounding speeds back up, "Ahn, gods..."

"Yes fuck~ feels so, ah~ fucking good!"

"Aw you gonna cum for me again, hm? It feels that good? Fuck that's it, squeeze me."

I clench down on him tightly, "Yes yes yes~ don't fucking stop. Right th-there."

He trails his right hand down the back of my thighs and uses his fingers to play with my clit making me throw my head back and arch my spine as I cum around Li's cock for the second time.

He drops my legs from his shoulders and holds my hips still as his cock throbs, shooting heavy ropes of cream into my pussy, painting the inside of the thin rubber white, the sudden warmth making me gasp his name once more before he pulled away, catching his breath as he carefully tugged off the condom.

“Your punishment is the inability to walk properly while accompanying Childe on his trip to the Wangshu Inn.”

“W-what? How do you know h-he’ll ask me to go today?”

“Because the only reason I came to find you was to tell you he was looking for you.”

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(A/n): im literally posting this 2 hours after i got off my plane 😭😭

[angeljeonjk97]

Body Work || Bell #4

Jungkook x reader

friends to lovers

18+ (fluff, smut)

warnings: mentions and descriptions of violence, mentions and use of drugs and alcohol

Jeon Jungkook is not the same 19-year-old boy you used to know. Fame has really matured him, in more ways than one.

“You already know how I like it baby”

A knock at the door makes your head shoot up from the ramyeon bowl you were lost in that sat on the small marble island in the middle of your small kitchen.

When you put your left eye up to the peephole, a blonde-haired, slim man and an excited Kiri stood there, beaming a huge smile, waiting for your face to appear from behind the door. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, wondering why two of your best friends are knocking on your door...you glance at the small, silver clock on the wall beside you... 9:24 pm.

You reach for the lock, turning it to open your door to the people who are standing on your doorstep looking like two frantic little, wide-eyed puppies.

"Hey?" you chuckle, confused as your eyebrows remain in the same furrowed expression, "why are you guys here?"

"Are we not allowed to visit our good friend to check on her?" Jimin acts offended.

Before you can respond, the two of them are already pushing their way past you. You sigh in defeat, clicking the door behind you as they both slide off their shoes and strip their coats from around their shoulders.

"You're both obviously not here just to see me" you chuckle, watching them both rush to hang their coats up, "you look like a pair of kids who've just been told they're going to Disneyland"

"Okay okay okay, come sit" Kiri spits out, a smile still plastered on her face, as she grabs your wrist pulling you to your sofa, Jimin following closely behind.

Once all three of you were sitting, Kiri and Jimin both facing you, sitting opposite you, Kiri takes both of your hands into hers. You stare intently at them, your face still in pure confusion.

"Guess who's back in town?" She asks almost too eagerly.

As soon as you heard those words, you already had a feeling where this conversation was about to go and who Kiri is talking about, but you give both of them the benefit of the doubt. They know that you're over that whole... situation, and don't plan on getting sucked back into it again. Your face relaxes a little, hesitant to even ask.

"Who?"

"Namjoon!" Jimin exclaims, unable to keep his excitement in any longer.

Kiri flicks her head around to Jimin, giving him a disapproving expression, not expecting him to be the one to say it.

Your expression practically falls off your face, as your stare flickers between the pair, expressionless.

Kim Namjoon is your older, kind of ex-boyfriend from two years ago. You two were never officially boyfriend and girlfriend but were dating each other and no one else. You weren't ready for a committed relationship at the time and didn't want to jump into something you weren't even sure you wanted yet. He's a lot older than you, 6 years older to be exact, very intelligent, very attractive, successful, understanding, gentle, and basically everything you'd possibly want in a man. 

You met when you had a holiday job at a cafe 15 minutes away from your apartment where you used to work with both Kiri and Jimin, who still have part-time jobs there. He was a regular there, so regular that you remembered his order off by heart in the 2 and a half months you worked there, you still remember the order even now, a medium white latte with almond milk and a warm blueberry croissant every Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday. 

You thought he was good-looking from the minute he walked through the glass, wooden framed, cafe door wearing a beige trench coat, black suit trousers complimented by dark brown loafers and a white button up that was hardly visible with his coat and thick plaid scarf that wrapped around his neck, and he thought the same for you. 

The attraction to each other became very obvious when you two would start talking at the desk and wouldn't realise you were holding up the line with your very flirty conversations and your co-workers would push you onto the till when they would see him come in. Eventually, on a Friday morning in early December, he asked for your phone number and everything flourished from there. He was perfect, everything you could ask for, but one day after a while of seeing each other, he just left the country, not telling you why or where to, just leaving you with an "I love you" text.

 You cried for weeks after it, even in front of Jungkook a few times, not understanding what went wrong, what you did wrong or why he didn't tell you why he was leaving. He was your first love, even though you never said it to his face, you loved him, and you know that he loved you too. You got over him and the whole thing eventually though, and don't plan on ever seeing him again. Or so you thought 

"Oh." is all you can let out, the name flashing you back into all the memories.

"He came to the cafe this morning, asking for you" Jimin declares, still with those wide ecstatic eyes, as he scans your face to read your emotions, "he misses you,"

You close your eyes, relaxing your shoulders a little, slipping your hands out of Kiri's," No. No. I told you, I'm done with all that"

"I thought you still loved him?" Kiri tilts her head slightly with a worried but confused expression.

"I told you, I'm over it"

"But y/n, he was perfect. It won't hurt to try again" Jimin shrugs, unsure as to what your response will be.

"But it will Jimin, just like last time," you get up off the sofa, about to walk to the kitchen," I'm not gonna be left behind with nothing like last time"

The other two follow closely behind, Kiri's voice projecting from behind you,

"You haven't dated since though, and I think this is a great opportunity"

"yeah you think it's a great opportunity, I don't. I don't want to see him ever again." you throw a cabinet open, pulling out a bottle of wine, along with a glass.

Kiri and Jimin stand in the doorway, looking at each other, regretting bringing him up.

"Is that all you guys came here to do? remind me of him?"

"No of course not, but he gave us his new number," a ripped-off corner of a piece of paper is pulled out of Kiri's pocket and put out in front of your face, "think about it. He misses you, a lot and wants to talk to you"

You sigh in defeat, practically ripping the piece of paper from between Kiri's fingers, seeing a flash of a set of numbers inscribed on it.

'Wow the ripped corner of a notebook really shows how much you care' You think to yourself quickly scanning the scrap piece.

Kiri spreads her arms out to wrap them around your frame, embracing you in a hug, "You don't have to, but think about it"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You play with the scrumpled-up paper in your fingers, observing the numbers written on it, contemplating everything. Lost in your own thoughts, you jump at the sudden thud on the black counter caused by a tattooed hand slamming down in front of you.

You look up, tucking the paper back into your jean pocket, "Jesus Kook. You could've just said hi or something" You smile at him, letting him know you're not being serious.

"You still would've jumped, considering how in your head you just were," Jungkook takes a seat on the stool opposite you. His bare forearms resting on the surface in front of you both, "You alright?"

You let out an exasperated sigh, thinking whether you should tell Jungkook about your kind of ex coming back or not.

It was very obvious Jungkook never liked Namjoon, despite never actually meeting him, even when you were both 'dating'. You know he'll just get annoyed, angry or throw the number away, which is probably the best thing to do but you have been genuinely considering talking to him again, and you need an unbiased opinion. At the same time though, you hate lying to JK or even being a little dishonest with him. It's not how trust is kept between you two, he can also read you really well, meaning you can never really hide your actual feelings about something or someone from him.

"Namjoon's back," You blurt out, exhaustedly, as if you hadn't slept a wink the previous night, well, because you hadn't.

Jungkook just stares at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape," Please don't tell me you're actually thinking about him right now," his head tilts to the side a little, like a puppy, his brow now slightly furrowed.

Your silence and lack of eye contact in return is enough for him to know the answer.

He throws his head back, his crown almost touching his shoulder blades, as he lets out a small groan.

"I know, I know, it's probably not the best thing for me to be thinking about right now, but-"

"No, it just isn't the best thing to be thinking about. No probably, it simply isn't. You can't be seriously thinking about talking to that asshole again after he left you for absolutely no reason." Jungkook cuts you off, a stern look now plastered over his face.

You squeeze your eyes shut in frustration but also regret, knowing that this would be his response, and you should've kept your mouth closed.

"Was that piece of paper something to do with it?"

"What piece of paper?" you reply defensively. You were hoping he didn't notice it or see you fiddling with it previously.

He gives you an expression full of disappointment and knowing, causing you to roll your eyes and give in, "It's his number new number"

"Oh, so he changed his number after leaving too? proves how much he wanted to keep in contact with you," the snarky remark doesn't phase you as you know it's just him trying to make a point to you. You hate that he's right.

"I know but Kiri said he wants to talk about it, I just want closure," you softly admit to him, a slight bit of guilt in your body language, even though you're telling the truth, and aren't actually thinking of seeing Namjoon romantically again, or even talking to him ever again after getting closure.

The doe-eyed man stares at you with a shocked expression before loudly exclaiming, "Kiri? How does Kiri know?"

You realise you fucked up again by mentioning Kiri unintentionally.

"He came by the cafe asking for me" the regret on your face grows continuously, "Please just let me think about this"

Jungkook sighs again in defeat, deciding to just trust you and your word, "Alright but if you meet with him, I'm taking you there and picking you up."

You almost go to argue with him, but know that really he's just doing this for your own safety, and because he cares about you. He knows if it goes wrong and you get upset you'll cry and run back to your place, and not come out for days, so if he's there to see you up afterwards, he knows you won't have to suffer alone. He just wants to be there for you. You know that, even though neither of you have verbally said to each other how much you care about one another, you both know that these little acts are out of care.

"What about your training though?" You query, thinking about his career before he even considered it as an obstacle 

"I'll take a rest day that day," he says it like it's nothing, giving you a little shrug. Like it won't probably take him a week to convince his trainer for a potential extra rest day.

After a few minutes of bickering back and forth, you give into Jungkook's stubbornness and his charms allowing him to come with you if you even meet Namjoon again. 

You truly have been thinking about it too much and don't actually know what you want. You're head knows that seeing him again probably isn't the best for your emotions considering it took you so long to get over him and seeing his dimples when he flashes sweet smiles at you, might just send you into a spiral again, but your emotions are basically screaming at you to get closure, and to just be in his presence again. Even though you've grown slight resentment for him, you can't bring yourself to fully hate him. Afterall, its not like you ended on bad terms, or good terms really. 

I mean getting closure won't hurt you. 

<-prev-index-next->

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a/n: A late happy holidays to everyone, but I hope you all had a really good time with whatever you celebrate. I can't wait for what 2024 has in store for us all. CANT WAIT FOR JIN AND HOBI TO BE BACK IN 2024 TOO!!!! Anyways thank you again for reading, I hope you're enjoying the series so far. I had a lot of fun writing this chapter so I hope its received positively

Taglist: @yunki-yunki-yunki @hellbornsworld @tatamicc @idkijustlovebts @00frenchfries00 @yoonbicoolest @junecat18

[livingddeadgirlrl]

Shiu & Toji x reader smut

(cw: belly bulge, spit roasting, idk just rly horny.)

hello, i want to get into smut writing so… first attempt. my pussy wrote this, not me. just imagining being sandwiched between these two himbos. meeeeeeooww. anyways let's get on with it. (i didn’t proofread it so sorry if there’s inconsistencies…)

you were about to go out for a drink, getting all dolled up, delicately placing strokes of eyeliner on your eyelids while looking in the mirror. you tied your sleek black hair back, reaching down to the middle of your back. you gazed at yourself in the mirror for a few long seconds, checking your makeup, making sure it was just how you liked it and how you always did it—rosy blush on the high points of your cheeks, dark gray eyeshadow contrasting with your fair skin, thick wings of eyeliner, making your eyes appear cat-like, and dark red lipstick covering your plump red lips. it all appeared so perfect right now, and nothing could ruin it…

you dressed yourself in a long black dress, with thin straps, so thin that a simple tug could snap them off completely. the dress was soft to the touch and dangerously form fitting, highlighting your figure. you were slim, just above the average female height, with curves that appeared so delicate and fragile, your waist curving in and back out again to meet your perfect hips. you walked over to the mirror in your bedroom, straightening out the creases in the dress while simultaneously scanning your own appearance. you remembered why you loved this dress so dearly—the way it hugged your sizable breasts, so soft and glistening in the dim lighting of your bedroom. the way the material curved along with your ass—it was all too good. you let your hair out of the tie, letting it cascade around your shoulders and drape in front of your breasts, like it was framing them flawlessly. you strapped on your black high heels one at a time, leaning on the edge of your bed for support when you heard your phone vibrating on your nightstand. you walk over to check who was calling at such a perfect time, hoping it was nothing too important. you leaned over the phone and sighed deeply. “fuck.”

“what do you need?’ you hissed through the phone. “easy, now. there’s a job. it's too much for toji to do on his own, so we need you to accompany us. i sent the driver over. see you soon” they replied. you groaned, desperately wanting someone, anyone to save you. you thought of skipping out on it, simply sending the driver home, but the thought of the abundance of money you could make from this job taunted you. you grumbled under your breath, grabbing your bag full of the tools you would need. you waited at your door, hoping at least the driver would arrive soon to offer some refuge from the cold that was forcing your skin to prick up. you spotted a pair of headlights in the dark, illuminating the dark street that your apartment rested on. the sleek black car pulled up to the front, and you advanced towards it. you opened the back door, slid into the seat, and nodded to the driver. once you shut the door, the car began its journey to the place you dreaded so dearly.

after a drive that felt so drawn out, the car arrived at the building. from the outside, it seemed as though it was simply one of the several corporate buildings within the city, but this was a facade. the driver opened the door for you, escorted you to the sliding automatic doors at the front, and left. you walked to the elevator, your finger automatically pressing the button to the thirteenth floor out of habit. you tapped impatiently on your now crossed arms, your dark red nails creating soft pelting noises on your skin. the doors finally opened, and you walked out to the lobby of the thirteenth floor, your heels clicking on the cold floor. your body habitually made its way to the office you were oh so familiar with, slightly inhaling before your fingers wrapped around the cold handle, opening the door.

“there she is…” shiu exclaimed. he was seated at the large office table, at the very end. toji was seated next to him, with one empty chair in between the two, painfully muscular arms folded over each other. the room was dimly lit, adding to the secretive ambience. “hello shiu.. toji.” you replied, sounding intensely disinterested. “come sit. we were just about to go over the details.” you walked over, hips swaying slightly, as they naturally did. you sat down in the empty chair between them, obviously left vacant for your ass. you felt their eyes intensely roaming over you and your body, contributing to your frustration. “this better be important.” you muttered. your voice was always immediately identifiable—so smooth, slightly deeper, and very womanly, not like a young girl's. “come on… already so angry? what’s the matter...” shiu said playfully, while toji stayed silent. typical. you didn’t reply, the frustration already growing in your core. “why don’t we play nice today, huh?” he added. “god. this is why i fucking hate working with you both.” you snapped in return. “toji… she’s extra feisty today… think we should do something to fix that…?” shiu’s words rolled off of his tongue so seductively. “she deserves a lesson. always coming to our meetings fuckin pissed off… so annoying.” toji muttered out. you were clearly fuming now, trying to hold your tongue. you wanted to snap at both of these men, but you knew it wasn’t the wisest choice. after all, they always towered over you. their bodies so muscular and thick compared to yours, although you had some of your own. shiu’s fingers danced over the material of your dress, tracing circles on your thigh. you crossed your arms, hinting that you were not in the mood. toji’ s rough and large hands also began to creep towards your thighs, as you shifted in your chair. his hand, now enveloping your thigh, massaged it lightly. “jesus christ. can’t go one fucking mission without getting so horny?” you hissed. “come on y/n… you know you always enjoy it… when are you going to stop fighting it…” toji whispered out in a low voice. this was beginning to become a common occurrence. these men lured you in with a “mission,” only for you to end up in these positions. you were always tempted by the money that would come with the job, but it never showed. all these “meetings” would offer you were bruises and bite marks littered all over your delicate skin. you were naive in that aspect, so easily fooled.

you didn’t give in to their seductions at first, letting them satisfy themselves by attempting to get under your skin with all of their teasing. but after their hands roamed your thighs for several minutes too long, your body went against you. it was your worst enemy. always falling weak to their actions, even when your mind wanted to fight it. your dress was now scrunched up to your hips, your black lace thong now visible. “y/n… if you hate this so much… then why are you wearing these…” shiu whispered in your ear. you rolled your eyes lightly. “i was about to go out before you called me here.” shiu and toji both let out a low chuckle to your response, not believing your words one bit. “mhm… and that’s why you’re already so wet too, huh?” toji said in a low voice mixed with a growl. “shut up..” you mumbled. “keep up with this tough guy act of yours and we won’t let you cum this time, brat.” toji snapped back at you. you groaned in response. you were always annoyed when they did this, but the least they could do was let you cum. toji’s big fingers tugged at the lining of your underwear that was covering your slit, pulling it to the side. you felt your cheeks grow slightly warm, as you knew they could both see how slick your folds now were. “fuckin slut” toji muttered. without any warning, he pressed one of his large fingers all the way inside your cunt, causing you to yelp out. “shhh… just relax…” shiu whispered in your ear, brushing your hair to the side and now littering kisses down your neck. toji’s finger moved around, attempting to stretch out your tight and gummy walls. he pressed another finger in harshly, and you gripped onto his forearm as you whimpered. “f-fuck… go easy…” you said under your breath. “no way. slutty little pussy of yours deserves to be punished.” toji said. shiu kept kissing your neck, tongue lapping at your skin as his fingers now tugged at the straps of your dress, pulling them down ever so slowly. he trailed kisses down to your collarbone, finally slipping your dress past your breasts, letting it rest on your ribs. he stared hungrily at your breasts, which were not covered in the usual bra you wore. the dress didn’t need a bra, you thought, so you never wore one with it. toji’s fingers began to pump in and out of your cunt, his fingers covered in your essence now. shiu’s lips wrapped around one of your nipples, as his fingers brushed over the other, tracing light circles around it. his tongue lapped over your nipple, as his breathing grew heavier. toji’s pace quickened, your pussy now making squelching sounds. a soft moan escaped your lips, lacing your fingers through shiu’s hair as his tongue traced circles around your nipple, the bulge in his pants now becoming unbearable. toji’s erection was also now visible through his pants, and your eyes trailed towards it. you hated this. hated how easily you melted into their touch, how their fingers remembered the exact spots to reach that made your panties pool with your wetness. how your body squirmed under their rough touches. toji’s fingers pumped in and out even faster, causing your grip on his arm to tighten and your legs to twitch slightly. your mouth hung open, your dark red lips parted. shiu took this opportunity to place a passionate kiss on your lips, his hands massaging your tits. toji’s fingers curled up into that perfect spot, causing you to moan into the kiss that shiu planted on your lips. his pace never faltered, your body writhing and shaking in that god awful desk chair. you had to break away from the kiss to catch your breath, mewls escaping your lips as your back arched. toji looked up at you, watching your face contort in pleasure with a devilish smirk on his face. shiu’s lips went back to your nipple, sucking harder this time, adding to the pressure that was building in your stomach. his other hand traveled up your neck, lightly holding it, yet not fully choking you. toji pumped his fingers harder, and the coil in your stomach was about to snap. (go to my other post for the rest)

[bzurk]

sight

It would be too selfish to have all of you - your thoughts, your body, your mind and soul. Simon doesn't deserve it. But he needs it, craves it. So he'll break you down, bit by bit. Because if he can't have you wholly, he'll settle for the pieces instead.

<- part 1 here

part 3 here ->

The nightmare started as all nightmares do—with a creeping unease, a sense that something wasn't quite right. It starts small, like scratching a mosquito bite you don’t notice until it’s already bleeding.

The back of your neck would tingle with unseen stares. Your favourite knife went missing from its hiding place in the med-bay. Your desk chair would be slightly out of place after a long day in surgery. The ballpoint pens you’d unconsciously nibble on disappearing from your office.

Either you were finally going mad, or someone was playing a cruel fucking trick on you.

Weeks after the niggling paranoia came the photos.

You stumble back to your quarters after a long day, boots dragging across the gritty floor, muscles sore and mind hazy. The fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting sickly shadows that dance along the narrow hallway. You stop at your door, keycard in hand, when you see it—something white, peeking out from under the doorframe. You bend down, groaning as your knees protest, and pick up the small stack of photos. The first is simple, unassuming. It’s you, alone, walking through the base, minding your own business. Just you, unaware.

The next one hits you like a punch to the gut. It's you, mid-laugh, half-dressed in the doorframe to your quarters, with Jackson’s hand sliding up your shirt. That was more than a month ago. Your breath catches, heart racing. You flip to the next one. Different guy, different place—your favourite nook in the gym, sweaty and close, his lips on your neck. Your hands start to shake as you look through the rest. Each one a memory, twisted into something filthy, voyeuristic.

The tipping point, the first time they scared you, was the night you found a printed photo slipped under your doorframe after a long, exhausting night in the medical wing. Standard procedure, by now, routine. But the photo was different. It wasn’t blurry. It was crystal clear, almost artistic in its composition. Framed by parallel black lines on the long edges, illuminated only by yellow lamplight. The slim photo is centred on the expanse of a naked back, sat upright and framed by a pair of bent knees, the pair surrounded by mussed sheets and discarded clothes. It had only captured your back, but you knew it was you. It had to be.

Written on the back of the photo, in jagged, scratchy writing:

“You’re wasting your time. They’ll never make you cum like I can.”

That was the moment you realized this wasn’t just a cruel prank. This was calculated. This was dangerous. Your entire life, and the lives of the men you’d fooled with, would be ruined if these photos got out.

But the messages, the photographs—they're like poisonous weeds in your mind, choking out the light. And they're spreading. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, all the time, even in the supposed safety of your room. The vines and roots had wrapped around your heart and your head, sapping away all sanity, feeding off your turmoil.

Every day, more of them appear—under your door, slipped into your locker, hidden in the med bay. They’re like a disease, spreading, tainting everything they touch. Each photo is a small piece of your life, stolen and corrupted, each message attached a slash to your sanity. The air always smells faintly of sweat and disinfectant, the harsh lights overhead casting everything in a cold, clinical glare that does nothing to alleviate the creeping dread settling into your bones. It feels impersonal, uncomfortable, clinical, this base you’ve spent the last six months at.

You try to ignore it at first. You really do. You shove the photos into the deepest drawer, lock them away, but they fester there, a hidden rot. You start to jump at shadows, every creak of the base’s old pipes setting your nerves on edge. You walk around with a constant buzz of anxiety, like an itch you can’t scratch. He’s there, somewhere. You swear you can feel it, a dark cloud hanging over your head and threatening to suffocate you.

Days turn into weeks. The photos continue to arrive, each more invasive than the last. There’s one of you sleeping in your office, one of you in the women’s showers, in the gym, in the rec room, in the gun range. Each new photo intensifies the dread pooling in your gut. A photo of you in the locker room, half-dressed, with a red marker circling all of the scars on your skin. "Every mark tells a story. I want to know them all. I want to leave my own.”

‘They were just photos’ becomes your newest mantra. They’re just photos. They’re just photos. They’re just photos.

But deep down, you know it’s more than that.

The photos aren't just photos. They are violations. Each image, each message, is a boundary crossed, a line blurred. They are an invasion of your privacy, your autonomy, your very sense of self. And each time you find another one, it feels like a piece of you is being ripped away, exposed to the cold, unforgiving light of scrutiny and judgment.

—

"Fuck!" you exclaim, slamming the cabinet drawer shut with such force that the metallic clang reverberates through the small room. The sound almost drowns out your racing heartbeat. Soap leaps off the exam bed behind you, his eyes wide with concern. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is sharp with worry as he rushes to your side, peering over your shoulder, trying to understand what’s got you so rattled.

"There's another one," you manage to squeak out, your voice trembling and weak.

“‘Nother what?” he asks softly, trying to pry one hand off the desk and open the drawer with his other.

"No!" you snap loudly, pushing against the drawer with all your might as you lift your hands only to slam them back down. The muscles in your arms strain as if they're the only thing keeping something monstrous from getting out. "Don't open it!"

Soap’s expression hardens, a crease forming between his brows as he stares at your trembling hands. “What’s goin’ on, Stitch?” His voice is low, steady, trying to anchor you, but the fear and paranoia are already creeping back in, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

The image is burned into your mind's eye. You, in your private bathroom under the streaming water with your eyes squeezed shut, tears mixing with the warm water running down your face. A moment of vulnerability that you thought was yours alone. You had let yourself get too comfortable, let your guard down. And now they had seen it, captured it.

"Close the door, Johnny," you whisper weakly, barely holding yourself together. "Please?"

The door closes with a click, the sound of the lock turning echoing around the small, sterile room. Your breaths are coming in ragged bursts now, each inhale sharp and painful, each exhale a desperate attempt to calm the storm inside you. Soap is by your side in an instant, his presence a balm against the raw, exposed nerves.

His hands gently pry your white-knuckled fingers from the desk, and you let him pull you into his arms. You break down, the sobs tearing through you, harsh and uncontrollable.

“Shh, lass. It’s alright,” he whispers, rubbing soothing circles into your back. His voice is a soft rumble, a steady presence amidst the chaos, the rise and fall of his chest like the calming lull of waves. “Just breathe. I’ve got ya.”

You take a shaky breath through your nose, fighting the sobs that threaten to spill over. The air smells faintly of antiseptic and bleach, a combination that does nothing to ground you. “I don’t know what to do, Johnny,” you croak out, your voice raw and broken. “I thought if I ignored it, they’d get bored.”

Soap doesn’t say anything, just continues to hold you and rock you gently back and forth. His arms are solid, a fortress against the madness. Slowly, your ragged sobs subside, the storm inside you calming to a dull, painful ache. A handkerchief is pressed into your palms, and you dab at your nose and eyes furiously before chucking it into the bin.

“Stitches,” he starts softly, pulling you to look at him. His blue eyes are full of concern, the weight of unsaid words hanging between you. “You have to tell me what’s goin’ on.”

You swallow hard; there's a lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. The room feels too small; the air too thick. You're trapped in this moment, in this nightmare with no way out. His eyes are sincere and pleading, wide with concern as his hands grip your arms tightly, grounding you in the moment. The sincerity and sympathy in his eyes force the words out of your chest before you can stop them. You've never broken down so completely in front of another person before.

—

The next evening in the med bay is eerily quiet, the sterile smell of disinfectant hanging heavy in the air like an uninvited ghost. You’re hunched over your desk, pretending to focus on some paperwork, but the words blur together, meaningless in your state of heightened anxiety. The door swings open, breaking the stillness, and in strides Ghost, his imposing figure casting a long, ominous shadow across the room. His face is as unreadable as ever, obscured by the skull-painted balaclava that always makes your skin crawl.

"You look like shit," he says, his voice low and gravelly, each word a deliberate probe. His eyes, dark and intense, scan you with an intensity that makes your stomach churn. He's nursing a cut on his arm, blood seeping through the makeshift bandage, a stark contrast against the black fabric of his uniform.

"I'm fine, Lieutenant," you respond lightly, forcing your voice to remain steady as you avoid his piercing gaze. You get up and grab a suture kit, your hands trembling slightly. "Just a bit tired, that's all. It's getting rather late."

Ghost steps closer, the air between you thick with unspoken tension, a palpable current of unease. "Tired, huh?" He sits down on the examination table, the leather creaking under his weight like a groan of protest. "Seems like somethin' more's botherin' you."

You force a smile, the expression feeling foreign and brittle on your face, tugging at sallow cheeks. "Just the usual stress, sir. Nothing I can't handle."

Ghost narrows his eyes, his gaze sharp and unyielding, like a hawk sizing up its prey. "You sure about that? 'Cause you look like you're about to break." There's a cold, calculating edge to his voice, like he's testing you, pushing you to see how far you can go before you snap. Ghost was not someone you’d had the pleasure of getting to know, and to the extent of your knowledge, this is just how he was. A man of intensity and determination, unfaltering in every task no matter how big or small. A soldier who lived and breathed loyalty to his team – it was only normal that he’d be wary of its newest addition.

"I'm fine," you repeat, more firmly this time, trying to mask the discomfort and insecurity bubbling beneath the surface. The words feel like a thin veneer over a churning sea of anxiety. You focus on stitching up his wound, the one thing you could always control, your unfailing hands and the technique etched into your joints. The suture thread weaves through his skin like a silent promise, each pass of the needle a testament to your skill. The needle pierces his flesh with precise, deliberate motions, the rhythm almost meditative. In this small, controlled act, you find a semblance of peace, a momentary escape from the chaos that has invaded your life.

He watches you closely, his silence heavy and oppressive, like a storm cloud waiting to break. His eyes are relentless, boring into you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. The seconds stretch into an eternity, the only sound the steady, rhythmic rise and fall of your breaths and the crinkle of your gloves with each pass of the thread. You can feel his gaze like a physical weight, pressing down on you, amplifying your every heartbeat. It's as if he's trying to peel back the layers of your composure, to see what's really going on beneath the surface.

The med bay, with its sterile white walls and harsh fluorescent lights, feels claustrophobic, the air thick with tension. Every detail seems magnified – the faint hum of the overhead lights, the sterile scent of antiseptic, the metallic tang of blood. Your world narrows down to the needle and thread, the thin line of the suture a fragile barrier between you and the encroaching darkness.

Ghost's silence is unbroken, his presence a looming spectre that fills the room. You can almost feel the weight of his thoughts, the questions he doesn't ask hanging in the air like unshed rain. His arm, though injured, remains steady, a testament to his own discipline and strength. There's a kind of respect in that steadiness, an unspoken acknowledgment of your skill.

Finally, the last stitch is in place. You tie it off with a deft twist of your fingers, snip the excess thread, and step back, the weight of the moment still pressing down on you. "All done, sir," you say, your voice flat and devoid of the turmoil roiling inside you. "I'm sure you know the drill by now. Keep it clean, keep it dry."

Ghost flexes his arm slightly, testing the stitches. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze unrelenting. "Thanks," he says, his tone deceptively casual, like a predator feigning disinterest. He stands, his movement fluid and controlled, every inch the soldier. As he heads for the door, he glances back at you, brown eyes reflecting the cold, sterile clinic lights. "Take care of yourself, Stitches. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

The door closes with a soft click, and you're left standing there, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of his presence still lingering like a dark shadow. You sink into the nearest chair, burying your face in your shaking hands, the tremors in your fingers betraying the façade of calm you've tried so hard to maintain.

The sterile med bay, once a sanctuary of order and control, now feels like a cage, its white walls closing in around you. The fluorescent lights above cast harsh, unforgiving shadows that seem to mock your vulnerability. The antiseptic smell, once a comforting reminder of cleanliness and safety, now only amplifies your sense of isolation.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the air feels thick and heavy, like trying to breathe through a wet cloth. The encounter with Ghost has left you shaken, his probing questions and unyielding gaze stripping away the layers of composure you've wrapped around yourself. His words echo in your mind, a relentless reminder of the danger that lurks just beyond your control.

Each stitch you placed in Ghost's arm felt like a small victory, a momentary reclaiming of your competence and purpose. Yet, as the thread pulled taut, so did the tension in your chest, the reality of your situation tightening its grip on your heart. You can't help but feel like you're unravelling, each new day bringing you closer to the breaking point, the thread threatening to tear.