#thought it was a fitting time to bring this back

[idyllic-ghost]

Title: INK'D Hearts: Tattoos and Tangled Sheets Pairing: tattoo artist!hongjoong x afab!reader Genre: tattoo shop au, strangers to lovers, romantic, fluff, angst, smut, opposites attract Wordcount: 26.7k Rating: 18+

Synopsis: All you wanted was to have your first tattoo done and over with. How were you supposed to know that your tattoo artist would be this cute? For the sake of your sanity, you try to get over how good he looks—but fate seems to have other plans. Although you keep meeting, and even if you seem to fit well together, there's something, unbeknownst to you, holding Hongjoong back.

Warnings: reader is described as feminine but uses gn pronouns, corruption kink mentioned, dom/sub dynamics, kinky stuff happens, mentions of feeling insecure, lack of experience on reader's part, the rest of atz make an appearance briefly and are being a little annoying, underground band!atz, hongjoong and reader are opposites (hongjoong being more edgy, while reader is a little softer), mentions of smoking

Disclaimer: The scenarios and depictions in my works are fictional and do not represent real-life situations. They do not aim to reflect the complexities of any culture, city, or individual. All characters are entirely fictional, regardless of names or descriptions.

MDNI: Adults only. Minors are not allowed. Any minors found will be blocked.

A/N: this fic was created before i decided to leave this blog permanently, and put on queue to be posted now. this blog is still not active. read here to find out why

Thank you @wongyuseokie for making this banner for me!

Masterlists

The music was loud in your headphones, but you couldn’t make out any of the words the band was singing - it was mostly there to distract you from your thoughts and the bustling city around you. For some reason, everyone and their mother decided to go out today. Walking towards the tattoo shop, you were forced to sneak around groups of people and snake through crowds. Ink’d was right around the corner of the popular market, a place which, unbeknownst to you, was holding a special event today. However, the crowds of people thinned out as you turned the corner down an alley. There were cafés, clothing stores, and hair salons in every other building. On top of each were fancy apartments, probably owned by the same people for the past forty years. However, your eyes didn’t wander much; as soon as you saw the sign for the shop, you didn’t need to look elsewhere. 

Looking down at your phone, you saw you were just on time for your appointment. Not even that could bring down your nerves. This was your very first tattoo appointment, and you had no idea what to expect. Some of your friends had tattoos, and their stories ranged from pretty okay to frightening. With their help, you found Ink’d — your friend, Seonghwa, had recommended you to go to one of the tattoo artists there. After looking through his work on Instagram, you decided to reach out. He was accommodating to your needs even over email and asked you to come in today to see what he could do for you. Despite all of the help and how kind the artist seemed to be, you were still nervous. 

As you stood in front of the tattoo shop, you debated on not going in. You could send an email to the artist and tell him that you were sorry, but you just couldn’t go through with this. It would be rude on such short notice, but you were practically shitting yourself in fear at the thought of having needles poke your skin with ink. The reflective surface of the doors mocked you, but you still couldn’t go in. The shop wasn’t big, but it didn’t need to be to get your attention. The walls were painted dark blue, and the sign that hung above the door was in the shape of a splotch of ink. In the middle of the sign, in big bold letters, it said INK’D. Great. Even the sign intimidated you. 

You looked down at yourself, at your baggy pants and oversized sweater - anything to make yourself as comfortable as possible. Was it good enough for this place? You wouldn’t know until you walked inside. With a deep breath, you pushed the door open… but it didn’t open. On the handle of the door, it very clearly said ‘PULL���, something you had managed to miss. Pushing down the embarrassment for the sake of the tattoo you were about to get, you pulled the door open and walked inside. 

The tile floors looked old like they had been there since the building was made. The edges of the pretty design were chipped, and a few places were missing entire tiles. It was a part of its charm. The walls, on the other hand, were newly painted white - but you couldn’t tell seeing as they were filled with frames. From floor to ceiling, there were paintings and pictures of all kinds covering the shop’s walls—posters of various artists, photos of artwork and clients, and photographs from abstract to realistic. Your attention was suddenly drawn to the reception. A man with cherry red hair and a playful smile stood behind the desk.

“Hi, can I help you?” he asked.

The first thing you noticed about him was how his eyes pierced your soul. His gaze was kind yet powerful, to the point where you almost wanted to look away. This look was only amplified by the thin layer of liner that lined his eyes. His bright red hair looked like it was slightly grown out, but it wasn’t long enough to cover the many piercings along his earlobes. Silver jewelry dangled from his ears, they matched the silver chain around his neck and the rings that adorned his fingers. The tight, black t-shirt he was wearing revealed his toned arms covered with ink. Delicate designs and images adorned his skin, and you could only imagine how many tattoos he had. A few peeked out from under his collar, but you couldn’t make out what the black ink on his neck was supposed to be. You could study this man for hours, but you had to answer him at some point.

“Uh… yes! Hi.” You approached the desk as you fiddled with the edge of your sleeves. “I’m here for an appointment… it should be under Y/L/N Y/N, I’m here to meet Kim Hongjoong.”

“Oh, Y/N, hey…” He looked at his computer, the smile still playing on his lips. “Nice to finally meet you, I’m Hongjoong.”

He looked up at you again, his eyes locking onto yours with that same piercing gaze that seemed to see right through you. A shiver ran down your spine, and you felt yourself growing weak in the knees. This was the man who was going to tattoo you? The thought of the needle was already enough to make your heart race, but now, you had to contend with the added pressure of trying not to make an absolute fool of yourself in front of the impossibly attractive tattoo artist.

His sharp jawline and the confident way he carried himself only added to your nervousness. You watched as he adjusted his glasses, a small, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips as if he could sense your inner turmoil. He turned back to his computer, fingers flying over the keyboard – his nails were painted black, the polish chipped around the edges and almost completely scratched off on some nails. The stark contrast against his fair skin was striking.

As he continued typing, you couldn't help but steal glances at his hands, wondering about the stories behind each stroke of polish. What kind of person was he outside of this tattoo parlor? Your mind raced with questions, each one adding another layer to the mystery that was this man.

When he finally turned back to you, a professional yet warm smile on his face, you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “First tattoo, right?” he asked, his voice smooth and reassuring.

“Yeah, it is.” You nodded and looked around the shop while Hongjoong kept typing. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in a tattoo shop before.”

“Is that why it took you so long to get in?” he said in a teasing tone.

You looked back at him, only to see him grinning. His smile was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly despite your nerves. In his hands was a clipboard with a paper on it, which he handed to you along with a pen. Your eyes widened as you realized that the glossy, dark walls were actually windows, through which he could very much see outside. The realization added a new layer of vulnerability to your already jittery state.

“Sorry, I’m just teasing,” he quickly added, his voice softening. “I get that you’re nervous. So, why don’t you fill this form out, and then we’ll talk over what we’re going to do today? Does that sound good, love?”

Your breath hitched in your throat at the unexpected pet name, and instead of a coherent answer, an awkward cough escaped your lips. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you clutched the clipboard to your chest, nodding quickly before making your way over to one of the couches in the waiting area. The soft leather cushions welcomed you, and you sank into them, wishing you could stay there instead of going through with your appointment.

With a sigh, you placed your bag beside you and began to fill out the form. Your hands trembled slightly as you scribbled your name, date of birth, and other required details. The background noise of the shop – the hum of the tattoo machines, the low murmur of other conversations, and the soft rock music playing in the background – started to blend into a soothing symphony, helping to calm your racing heart.

You glanced up occasionally, watching Hongjoong as he moved confidently around his workspace. There was something mesmerizing about the way he carried himself, a blend of focus and ease that only came from years of experience. It was reassuring to know you were in capable hands.

As you continued to fill out the form, your mind wandered to the design you had chosen. It was something personal, a symbol of strength and transformation that you had wanted for years. Now, on the brink of making it a permanent part of you, the mixture of excitement and apprehension was almost overwhelming.

When you finally finished the form, you took a deep breath and stood up, clutching the clipboard as if it were a lifeline. You made your way back to Hongjoong, who looked up from his computer with a reassuring smile.

“All done?” he asked, his tone gentle.

You nodded, handing him the clipboard. “Yeah, all done.”

“Great,” he said, scanning the form quickly before setting it aside, and he looked through them before giving you a pleased smile. Maybe it was your nerves, but your heart jolted at his smile. You wanted – no, needed – to please him like that again. “Let’s go to my studio and get started, yeah?”

His studio had the same intricate, patterned tiles on the floor as the waiting room, their glossy finish reflecting the ambient light and adding a touch of elegance to the space. However, the walls were painted a deep, matte black, providing a stark contrast that made the room feel both intimate and edgy. The black surface served as a canvas for vibrant spray paint art – swirls of neon colors and abstract designs that burst forth with energy and creativity. Interspersed among the graffiti were various posters, some showcasing famous tattoos, and others featuring artwork from local artists, lending a personal touch to the décor.

In one corner of the room, a small, well-organized desk sat neatly against the wall. On its surface were a sleek laptop, a modern desk lamp casting a warm glow, and a few neatly stacked papers. The desk exuded a sense of efficiency and order. Beside it stood a modest chair, perfectly pushed in and out of the way, maintaining the room's open and uncluttered feel.

The focal point of the studio was undoubtedly the tattoo chair, positioned prominently in the middle of the room. It was upholstered in smooth black leather, looking both comfortable and professional. Adjacent to it was a matching black leather stool, presumably for Hongjoong to use while working. Next to the chair stood a metal cart, meticulously organized with an array of tattooing materials – inks in a spectrum of colors, sterilized needles, and various other tools of the trade, all within easy reach.

The room was imbued with a sophisticated aroma that hinted at luxury and care. The air was filled with the delicate scents of bergamot, blackcurrant, and jasmine, creating an atmosphere that was both calming and intoxicating. You couldn't quite tell if the source of this enchanting fragrance was the candle burning softly on his desk or Hongjoong's own cologne. Either way, the scent wrapped around your senses, creating a foggy, almost dreamlike state as you took it all in.

Hongjoong moved closer to you, his presence both reassuring and electrifying. The scent intensified as he approached, enveloping you completely and making everything else fade into the background. His hand hovered right behind your upper back, guiding you towards the tattoo chair.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “You can sit down right here and we’ll discuss what I can do for you today.”

He took his laptop from his desk and sat down on the stool next to you. You jumped onto the tattoo chair, letting your feet dangle off the edge. Looking down at the floor, you saw Hongjoong’s polished leather boots next to your beat-up sneakers. Everything about him was somehow messy and pristine at the same time — delicate and coarse.

“You got my design idea, right?” you asked to break the silence.

“I did. It’s pretty.” He looked up at you with a friendly smile. “I took the liberty of drawing something up with it as inspiration, do you want to have a look?”

Before you could respond, Hongjoong turned the laptop so that you could see the design. It was a lotus flower, just like your reference picture, and connected to it were elegant, curved lines that stretched out a few inches away from it. It looked like small water droplets were attached to the flower and lines, some of them falling freely.

“What do we think?” he asked.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured and leaned in closer. “Your art style is so graceful.”

“You’d be the first to say that.” He let out a laugh and pulled the laptop away from you. “This is a little further away from what I usually do. But this suits your tastes, right?”

“Definitely.” You nodded and watched him gather a few things.

“And it’s going to sit right by your hip?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll go ahead and print out a stencil for you. How big do you want it to be?” He put his hands up and measured in the air. “About this big?”

“That looks good,” you answered.

“I’ll get that sorted for you then, love.”

Hongjoong left you alone in his studio, and your muscles finally relaxed. When Seonghwa recommended him, he said nothing about how good-looking and charming he was. Now you wish that you had tried a little harder to get one of your friends to go with you. Being all alone with him only made you more nervous. When Hongjoong came back, he walked over to his desk and picked up his glasses. The thin black frames sat on the tip of his nose as he studied the stencil in his hands. With a proud nod, he showed you the stencil to get your approval.

“Good size?” he asked as he walked up to you.

“It’s good.” You nodded, your fingers playing with the hem of your sweater. 

He looked at you closely, inspecting your nervous fidgeting and the way your eyes flickered around the room. Sitting back on the stool, Hongjoong got right up next to you. The intoxicating scent made you dizzy again, and you put your hand beside you to stabilize yourself.

“Are you nervous?” he asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Just a little,” you admitted with an awkward chuckle.

“That’s okay.” He motioned for you to lay down on the chair and you did as he said. “I’ll put the stencil on you, then you can take a look at it and tell me what you think. Is it okay if I pull up your sweater?”

You nodded and helped him move away your clothes. When the sweater was out of the way, you moved your hands to your pants. They already sat low on your hips, but you loosened the strings and pulled them down enough to expose the entirety of your hip bone. Hongjoong was talking as he put on the stencil, walking you through the steps as he was doing it. His soft voice calmed your nerves and seeing as you didn’t have to look directly at him, your heart started calming down as well. When he peels away the stencil, revealing blue lines on your skin, you look down at his hands.

“There you go, love.” He pushed up his glasses and looked up at you with a smile. “There’s a mirror over there, why don’t you go look at it and tell me if you like the placement.”

You hummed and carefully got off the chair. While you walked over to the mirror, Hongjoong prepared his station. The blue ink looked good against your skin, mostly because of the design. This is why you have been wanting to get a tattoo for so long. You smiled to yourself, looking past the nerves and bubbly feeling in your stomach that you got from looking at Hongjoong.

“It’s perfect,” you chimed.

You walked back over to the leather chair, which was now covered in a protective sheet. A bright smile was painted on your lips as you sat down in front of him again. Something sparkled in Hongjoong’s eyes just then, and you couldn't figure out what it was but you knew that you wanted to see it again. 

“So… uhm…” He scratched the back of his neck and pretended to look for something. “Is the placement and size all good? You’re allowed to change anything, you know? I won’t be upset.”

His reassurance only made you more comfortable. The nerves that had made you want to puke just a few minutes ago, were now suddenly gone. Hongjoong looked back at you with his eyebrows slightly raised, still looking for an answer from you.

“Oh, yes. It’s good. I like it,” you said. “Thank you.”

“It’s no big deal.” He got closer to you, the wheels on his stool easily rolling over the ground. “You can lay back down and I’ll start as soon as you’re comfortable.”

He had black rubber gloves on now, a stark contrast to the delicate silver rings that lay on his desk. The rings, intricate in design, caught the light and glinted, a reminder of the careful preparation Hongjoong had undertaken for your session. His cart was meticulously organized, filled with the colors you had requested. Each ink bottle stood ready, a spectrum of possibilities waiting to be brought to life on your skin.

The tattoo gun in his hand looked like the tip of a small drill, its precision and purpose unmistakable. A medical-blue plastic wrap covered the cord attached to it, ensuring everything remained sterile. Hongjoong began to explain the process, his voice calm and reassuring, a professional easing the nerves of a first-time client. He gently pushed away your clothes, ensuring they weren’t in the way, his movements careful and considerate. The touch of his gloved hands was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you felt spreading from your core.

You couldn’t help but focus on the way he was inspecting the skin where your stencil was placed. His eyes narrowed slightly as he assessed the area, ensuring everything was perfect before beginning. Your breath caught in your throat, the moment feeling surreal and significant. His red hair, vibrant and striking, hung slightly over his eyes despite his efforts to push it back. The black roots of his natural hair had started growing out, a subtle detail that you could only notice from this close proximity.

He looked up at you then, and your eyes met. Behind his glasses, his gaze was intense and focused, yet there was a softness there that put you at ease. His eyes, framed by the sharp lines of his glasses, seemed to hold a depth of understanding, a silent communication that everything was going to be alright.

“Does that sound good, love?” he asked.

“Sorry?” You had forgotten to listen to what he was saying.

“I’m going to give you a warning before I put the needle on your skin,” he repeated. “Does that sound good?”

“Yeah, it does…”

You leaned your head back against the chair and shut your eyes tightly. Hongjoong warned you that he was going to start, and you clutched the bunched-up fabric of your sweater tighter. It wasn’t comfortable, of course, but it didn’t hurt as much as you expected. 

Hongjoong worked fast, and when he was halfway done he asked if you needed to take a break. You agreed as you were starting to feel a little lightheaded.

“Could you hand me my bag?” you asked shyly.

Your bag was hanging by the door, and Hongjoong quickly walked over to it and picked it up for you. While you pulled out your water bottle and an energy bar, Hongjoong massaged his wrist. He looked over at you with the same playful smile he had worn when you first walked in. 

“Do you have friends with tattoos or something?” he asked.

“Yeah, why?”

“No, it’s just… you seem to know what to do despite this being your first tattoo.” He sat back on his stool, right by your side. “You know Seonghwa, right?”

“He’s the one who recommended that I should go to you.” You nodded. “To be honest, I didn’t even know he had tattoos.”

“Well, I think he only recommended me because we’re friends,” he said and your eyes widened. “He has a tattoo on his back, but I didn’t do that one for him.”

“Seonghwa never told me you were friends…” you muttered, wondering why he had refused to come with you if he was friends with the tattoo artist. You put away your things and dropped your bag by the side of the chair. Hongjoong took the hint and got ready to get back to work.

“I’m sure he just didn’t think of telling you,” he muttered. “He texted me last night to tell me you were nervous about the appointment.”

His words hit you like a bag of bricks. Not only was Seonghwa friends with this guy, but he was also texting him about you. Maybe that was why Hongjoong had been so friendly from the beginning. You had the feeling that he had a constant natural charm, but his comforting words and kind smiles had made you think that maybe you were receiving special treatment for reasons other than friend-nepotism.

“Is it okay if I start again?” Hongjoong’s voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you mumbled and closed your eyes as he put the needle into your skin again.

At the end of your session, the skin around your hip felt raw and sensitive, a testament to the meticulous work that had just been done. Hongjoong gently wiped off your skin with a wet paper towel, the coolness providing a brief respite from the heat and discomfort. His touch was careful, almost tender, as he ensured that no excess ink or blood marred the final reveal of your new tattoo.

"Go take a look in the mirror," he said, his voice soft and encouraging. You nodded, taking a deep breath before gingerly sliding off the chair. Your legs felt slightly shaky, both from the adrenaline rush and the prolonged stillness of the session. As you steadied yourself, you could feel Hongjoong's reassuring presence nearby, ready to assist if you needed it.

With cautious steps, you made your way over to the full-length mirror on the other side of the room. The anticipation built with each step, your heart pounding with a mix of excitement and nerves. When you finally stood in front of the mirror, you took a moment to compose yourself before lifting your shirt slightly to reveal your hip.

The fresh lines of the tattoo contrasted beautifully against your skin. Despite the slight irritation that surrounded the new ink, the design was incredibly striking. The intricate details and vibrant colors were even more stunning than you had imagined.

“This is gorgeous.” You gasped and turned back around to Hongjoong.

With your sweater still bunched up you showed him the piece with a small smile, as if he hadn’t been looking at it for the past few hours. Still, he approached you and crouched down a little to inspect it. He wore a small, giddy smile; you couldn’t help but think that for someone who looked like he could kill you with a single glare, his mannerisms were awfully cute. After giving you a proud nod, he backed away from you.

“Some of my best work,” he commented. “Do you mind if I take a picture of it and put it on my Instagram?”

“Not at all, go ahead.”

Hongjoong went to look for his phone and you stayed in the same position, with your sweater still bunched up and your pants almost falling off due to the strings being untied. It was an awkward position, but you didn’t know if you were allowed to move yet. Hongjoong soon came back with his phone in hand and crouched down right in front of you to take a picture of your hip and waist.

“Thank you.” He stood back up and inspected the photo as you put your clothes on properly. “Oh, hold on– before you put everything back on, I have to wrap it up for you.”

You froze as you were about to pull on the string of your pants, and Hongjoong let out a panicked laugh as he went over to the cart with materials. He took out a roll of some white plastic with green stripes in a criss-cross pattern and a big blue line in the middle of it. When he came back to you, he measured it to the size of the tattoo before he cut it off. 

“This is Second Skin,” he said and parted it open in the middle of the blue line. “It’ll feel a bit weird, but you’ll get used to it pretty quickly.”

He pulled off a top layer and pressed the now sticky side to your stomach. His hands were warm now that he didn’t have the rubber gloves on. A shiver sent down your spine as he smoothed out the plastic against your skin. After he expertly pulled away another plastic layer, the Second Skin lived up to its name - you barely felt it. You were much too distracted by the loss of Hongjoong’s hands against your abdomen.

“I’ll give you some more of this stuff so that you can reapply it yourself after twenty-four hours. Then you’re going to want to leave this on for three to five days, and then peel it off under running water. It’s not difficult at all, just take one of the top corners and slowly take it off,” he explained as he examined his application. “You might get some ink bubbles in there, that’s fine you can just leave it- and if your skin gets red where the plastic is applied, that’s normal too. If you’re unsure, you can always just send me an email.”

You hummed and turned back to the mirror, inspecting the now plastic-covered tattoo. You caught Hongjoong’s eyes on you in the mirror, but he wasn’t looking at the tattoo. He was just looking at you - all of you. However, his eyes quickly diverted as he saw that you had caught him in the act.

“Thank you,” you said as you went back to tying the strings to your pants. “I really love it.”

“I’m glad,” he answered. “Listen, I’ve got to go out to the reception- but take as long as you need to get yourself ready. We’ll handle the payment as soon as you’re done, and I’ll get you some more Second Skin and a lotion you can use at home. On the house.”

“Oh, no- I’ll pay for it, I don’t mind,” you argued.

“You’re Seonghwa’s friend, he’d get mad at me if I didn’t.” He walked towards the door to give you some privacy. “Besides, it’s your first tattoo- I have to give you some incentive to come back.”

As if you didn’t have enough reason to come back already…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The next few days, all you could think about was your cute tattoo artist. Hongjoong's comforting atmosphere, his pretty smile, and his charming words were plaguing both your waking and sleeping hours. His presence lingered in your thoughts, like a sweet yet torturous melody you couldn’t escape. During the day, you found yourself daydreaming about his soft eyes and the way he had meticulously worked on your tattoo. At night, your dreams were filled with his voice, his touch, and the mesmerizing red of his hair. It was as if he had left an indelible mark not just on your skin, but on your mind and heart as well.

Conversations with your friends became dominated by your incessant musings about him. "I can't believe I didn’t ask for his number," you would lament, your frustration palpable. Your friends, patient at first, were growing tired of your constant complaints. Their sympathetic nods were starting to turn into exasperated eye-rolls. "Just ask Seonghwa for his number," they would suggest, not realizing that this simple solution was a source of internal conflict for you.

Seonghwa was the one person you hadn’t confided in about your infatuation. Now that you knew he was friends with the red-haired man, you didn’t dare tell him a thing. The thought of revealing your feelings to Seonghwa filled you with a mixture of embarrassment and fear. When he asked how your tattoo appointment went, you kept your response strictly about the tattooing process, carefully avoiding any mention of the charming artist who had captured your heart.

A week had passed since your tattoo appointment, and you found yourself in a bar with your friends, trying to shake off the haze of infatuation that seemed to follow you everywhere. The Second Skin had been removed, revealing your tattoo in all its healed glory. Despite the itchy phase that had begun, you did your absolute best not to scratch or touch it, knowing how crucial this period was for the healing process. Each prickling sensation on your hip served as a reminder of Hongjoong, making it even harder to move on.

You nursed your drink in your hands, staring into the glass with sad, distracted eyes. The ambient chatter and laughter of the bar did little to lift your spirits. As your friends' conversation ebbed, they noticed your slumped shoulders and the faraway look in your eyes.

“Please tell me you’re not thinking about him again.” One of your friends groaned.

“They can’t help that they have a crush!” Another one defended you.

You looked up at all of them. They quieted down as you opened your mouth to say something. However, you quickly shut your mouth again and went to chug your drink instead. The glass hit the table as you finished it, and you hissed at the feeling in your throat.

"Hey, you okay?" one of them asked, their voice tinged with concern.

You looked up, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Yeah, just... thinking."

"About him again?" another friend teased gently, though their eyes were sympathetic.

You sighed deeply, swirling the liquid in your glass. "I just can't get him out of my head. It's like he's everywhere I turn."

"Maybe it's a sign," one friend suggested. "Maybe you should just go back to the shop and see him again. You know, for a touch-up or something."

The idea sent a jolt of both excitement and fear through you. The thought of seeing Hongjoong again was intoxicating, but so was the fear of making a fool of yourself. "I don't know," you murmured. "I don’t want to come off as desperate."

"Desperate? No way. You’re just interested. There's nothing wrong with that," another friend chimed in. "Besides, from what you've told us, he seemed pretty interested in you too."

“Just go back to the shop and ask him out. If you won’t ask Seonghwa for help, you have to help yourself.”

Their words gave you a flicker of hope, though your insecurities quickly tried to snuff it out. "Maybe," you conceded, taking a sip of your drink.

As the night went on, you continued to ponder their advice, your mind a whirl of possibilities and anxieties. The itch of your healing tattoo was a constant reminder of the artist who had given it to you, and you couldn’t help but wonder if fate was nudging you to take a chance.

A couple of days later, you were standing outside of INK’D once again. You had even dressed up for the occasion, which now felt a little pathetic. Nevertheless, you walked up to the door and pulled it open. It looked exactly as it had the last time you were there, which shouldn’t be a surprise since it hadn’t been that long. Glancing around the shop, you couldn’t find Hongjoong anywhere. Until you heard his laugh, you were starting to think that he wasn’t even there. 

Your eyes immediately followed the sound of his gentle laugh. Behind the reception, stood Hongjoong as he talked with a customer. The shop hadn’t changed, but Hongjoong certainly had. His hair was now shorter and bleach blond, he had a new eyebrow piercing that matched his other silver jewelry, and you could swear that he had gotten even more tattoos - but maybe that was just because he wore a more revealing shirt. The customer on the other side of the desk was a gorgeous woman, who looked to be just a few years older than you. Her arms were also covered in tattoos, and her hair was dyed a fiery red almost like Hongjoong had before. The two of them were leaning against the counter, talking about something that was apparently very interesting - seeing as Hongjoong’s eyes were completely transfixed on her.

You felt stupid in your cute crop top and midi-skirt, feeling the need to hide the single tattoo that you had purposefully left exposed earlier - being surrounded by people who had tattoos all over their skin somehow made you feel self-conscious of only having one, almost to the point that it would’ve felt better to have none at all. The customer paid and left. You were about to follow her out, but it was too late. Hongjoong had spotted you.

“Y/N, you’re back!” he said as you reluctantly approached the counter. “Is everything okay? Is the tattoo healing as it should?”

He looked a little worried, and it hit you that coming in unannounced like this may cause suspicion. This was the last thing you wanted. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks and an anxious clump building up in the back of your throat.

“Oh, the tattoo's fine, really, it's just a little itchy right now—well, more than a little, actually—but I know that's part of the process and I'm trying my best not to scratch it, even though it's really tempting. You said it would be like this while it heals, right? So I'm not too worried, but I can't help feeling a bit anxious about it. I'm just reminding myself it's normal, and honestly, I can't wait to see how it looks once it's fully healed," you rambled but stopped as you saw Hongjoong smiling at you.

His eyes were warm and gentle, but his smile was playful. It was a cruel combination of features to put on such a kind man. Why did everything about him have to leave you speechless? Your long pause caused Hongjoong to speak up.

“Did you come in to book another appointment then, or what’s up?”

He leaned against the counter again, looking up at you with sparkling eyes. The new hair suited him, although it looked like it had gotten a little damaged. Still, he looked just as pretty as last time, and you felt your words get caught up in your throat. You couldn’t ask him out, not now or ever.

“I wanted to…” You looked over at a sign about drop-in piercings that stood on the counter, standing there like your savior. “...get a piercing.”

The words came out of you before you could process them. You had been thinking of getting another piercing soon, but you had no plans on doing it today. However, it was the only way for you to get out of the awkward position you were about to put yourself in.

“Ah, really?” Maybe it was a trick of the light, but you almost thought he looked disappointed for a second. “Well, our piercer is out for lunch at the moment, so you’d have to wait for a while- that is if you don’t mind that I do it. I’ve done piercings before, but it’s been a while.”

“I don’t mind.” You heard yourself saying. To be fair, you were only there to see him - so having him pierce you maybe wouldn’t be so bad.

So there you were. Back in Hongjoong’s room, sitting on his leather tattoo chair. This time it was lower to the ground, allowing him to get closer to your head. You had decided on another ear piercing, adding to the ones that were already there. Hongjoong had stepped out to get his coworker’s equipment, and you were left alone with your thoughts. The prickly feeling under your skin wouldn’t go away, no matter how many deep breaths you took. You had one thing to do today, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to do it. Technically, you didn’t even have the money for a piercing - the tattoo was supposed to be the thing you treated yourself with after working so much lately, so you had only budgeted for that. You were lucky that the piercings weren’t as expensive.

“Alright, this should be all that I need.” Hongjoong snatched you out of your thoughts as he slipped back into the room. 

He organized his station on the rolling table beside your chair. You watched his ringed fingers, admiring his pretty painted nails - wondering if he made the cute designs on them himself. His hands moved quickly and steadily, his eyes analyzing the different items he had brought with him. Despite saying that he hadn’t done this in a while, it certainly looked like he had. Everything about him was authentic, in a way that was both comforting and intimidating.

“Nervous?” he asked. “You’re quiet.”

“I’m just thinking,” you admitted, and he turned to you with a piqued interest. 

“Want to share what’s in that pretty little head of yours, then?” The words came out of him so naturally that it almost felt wrong that your body had such a strong reaction to them. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. Work mostly,” you lied and looked down at your dangling feet as you desperately tried to find another subject to talk about. “Does this piercing hurt a lot?”

“It’ll sting,” he admits and looks up at you with that warm smile of his. “But I’ll be gentle, love.”

If Hongjoong wasn’t staring right at you, you’d clutch your chest and lean back against the chair at his words. Instead, you’re gripping the edge of the seat, and hoping that it’s not too obvious that he’s got such an effect on you. An “okay,” that sounded more like a peep than a word, came bubbling up your throat, and Hongjoong stifled a laugh at, what you could only assume was, your innate ability to make a fool out of yourself.

“I’m going to puncture the skin with this.” Hongjoong held up a needle to you. “And then I’ll push in this piercing.” He showed you a simple stud that matched the rest of the metals you were wearing. You nodded carefully, giving him a worried glance. It has been a while since your last piercing and even though you knew you had nothing to be scared of, you couldn’t help but be irrational. Hongjoong notices your nervous state and puts his hand on your knee. His palm is warm, burning through the material of your midi skirt.

“You’ve got this.” That was all he said before he stood up beside you.

His head was right by yours as he angled the needle against the ink dot he had placed on your skin earlier. You could feel his breath against your skin, his warmth radiating from his chest. This man had to secretly be a radiator with the amount of heat he was giving off. You closed your eyes as the tip of the needle made contact with your ear.

“Ready?” Hongjoong asked.

“Yeah,” you murmured back.

The needle prodded through your skin, and it stung just as he said it would. A quiet gasp flew out of you as he pierced through your ear. Hongjoong left the needle and grabbed the small stud again.

“You’re doing so good,” he mumbled as he fidgeted with the earring. “I’m almost done, love.”

You took a deep breath and Hongjoong got back to work. Before you knew it, you had a new piercing.

Your right ear was burning ever so slightly as you were making your purchase at the front desk. You found yourself frequently trying to touch your ear, and then quickly putting your hand down again at the sight of Hongjoong’s warning glare. His small talk had quieted down as you pushed in your code to complete the transaction. The lack of words exchanged only made the air feel more stuffy. When the receipt rolls out of the machine, Hongjoong quickly grabs it and hands it to you. Your hand brushes against his as you take it, and sparks are sent flying through your bloodstream. This was your last chance to ask him out…

“I can’t wait to see you again,” he said with a wink, and your words got stuck in your throat.

“Thanks!” you squeak out before turning on your heel and all but bolting out of the tattoo shop.

That night, you met up with your friends at your usual bar, sporting new earrings but still no love confession to speak of. Your friends were almost more annoyed with you than you were with yourself for the lack of action. As soon as you told them the story, they all groaned in unison, a chorus of exasperation that filled the dimly lit space.

"You've got to be kidding me," one of them said, shaking their head. "What happened this time?"

“I said ‘Thanks!’ when I left, like an idiot.” You groaned and put your head in your hands.

“What? How is that bad?”

You tried to explain, telling them how Hongjoong was just out of your league and how you didn't have the guts to ask him out. They weren't having it, though. They kept trying to hype you up, their voices a mix of encouragement and frustration. "Come on, you can't give up now!" one urged, while another complained about your tendency to chicken out.

Drinks were downed in rapid succession, the alcohol fueling your emotions. Tiny shouts of anger and regret burst from your lips every so often, punctuating the lively conversation. Each time you vented, your friends would nod sympathetically or roll their eyes, depending on how many times they'd heard the same lament.

Just as you were about to resign yourself to a night of self-pity, you saw Seonghwa walking towards your table. Your body reacted on its own, your hand shooting up to point at him. In your slightly inebriated state, your finger ended up pointing slightly past him. One of your friends quickly helped you correct your aim, turning your arm toward the startled man.

"You know Hongjoong!" you blurted out as if this was news to him.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "What happened to 'hello'? 'How was your day?' 'Was work okay?' You have to relax," he said, his tone gentle as he sat down on the chair in front of yours. "I heard that you didn’t ask him out."

You felt a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over you. "Do you know when his next shift is?" you asked, ignoring his attempt to make small talk.

Seonghwa sighed, a mix of amusement and mild frustration. "In two days, I think... why?"

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you were about to say. "I'm going back," you declared, mostly to yourself but loud enough for everyone to hear. "I won’t chicken out this time!"

Your friends erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable. "That's the spirit!" one of them exclaimed, raising their glass in a toast. "To not chicken out!"

Seonghwa smiled, shaking his head slightly. "Just be yourself," he advised, his voice kind. "Hongjoong's a good guy."

You nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The night continued with more drinks and lively conversation, but this time, there was a spark of hope in your heart. As the evening wound down, you found yourself thinking about what you would say to Hongjoong, rehearsing possible scenarios in your mind.

When you finally left the bar, the cool night air was a welcome relief. Your friends hugged you goodbye, their encouragement ringing in your ears. "You've got this," they assured you, their support unwavering.

You regret your words as you stand in front of the tattoo shop, two days later. Nevertheless, you’re determined to do it. Partially because it was about damn time, but also because Seonghwa had relentlessly teased you about not being able to do it, and now you can’t face him ever again if you fail. You haven’t had a date in at least a year, and this was the first guy in real life you’d found remotely attractive since then. He was attractive, kind, and just your type. It was now or never—you just had to go for it. With what you hoped were confident steps, you walked up to the door and swung it open... only to find the shop empty. The sound of someone rustling around in the back rooms caught your attention.

“Hello?” you called out, walking up to the receptionist's desk.

“Just a second!” It was Hongjoong’s voice, coming from further inside the shop.

Sure enough, Hongjoong walked out of his tattoo room thirty seconds later. His hair was still a blond mess, but now he was wearing a perfectly fitted, black button-down with the sleeves rolled up. If you hadn’t been able to restrain yourself, your jaw would be on the floor. He wore a customer service smile, which faltered at the sight of you, turning into a genuine grin. He walked up to the reception with a spring in his step.

“Getting multiple things done in a week, huh?” he said, a playful look in his eyes. “Are you a masochist or something?”

The previous confidence you felt transformed into a ball of shame in your chest. You couldn’t look him in the eyes as your face grew hotter and hotter. Hongjoong noticed your freak-out and immediately went into panic mode himself.

“Oh shit—I'm sorry, I don’t know why I said that. That was too far—”

“It’s okay—”

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you—”

“I’m not offended—”

“Please don’t take this as a bad reflection of the shop, I don’t know why—”

“I came here to ask you out.”

The words flew out of you without warning, catching both you and Hongjoong off guard. They lingered in the air as the tension built up until it was thick enough to cut with a knife. The longer it took him to answer, the more anxious you were getting. With a soft, pitiful chuckle, you looked down at your shoes.

“Never mind,” you mumbled. “I’m sorry—it was stupid—”

“No, Y/N—”

“No, no, it’s fine. Don’t feel pressured to say anything, please.” You looked back up at him and gave him a polite smile. “Thank you for everything, I’ll be… I’ll leave.”

Without waiting another second to hear his response, you turned around and walked out of the shop, shame weighing down your shoulders.

For the next few days, you stayed in bed for most of the day, only going out to go to work or get groceries. You’d do anything to avoid your friends, and you were doing everything in your power to never see Hongjoong again. Have you planned on going to him for another tattoo sometime in the future? Yes, but that was out of the question now. The scene kept replaying in your head—his shocked expression and how poorly you had handled it. You couldn’t remember the last time you had made that big of a fool of yourself.

Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, you kept replaying every detail of that embarrassing encounter. You wondered what possessed you to blurt out your feelings like that, why you hadn’t just played it cool or at least waited for a more appropriate moment. Each time you thought about it, a fresh wave of humiliation washed over you. Your friends' encouraging words now felt like cruel jokes. Why would he ever go out with you? It was stupid to even let your friends suggest that you should go for it.

Every time your phone buzzed with a message from Seonghwa or anyone else, you felt a pang of anxiety, worried it was another reminder of your failed confession. You avoided social media, not wanting to see anything that might remind you of Hong or the tattoo shop. Even the sight of your tattoo in the mirror was enough to send you spiraling back into regret.

Days blended into each other, each one marked by a series of small, mundane tasks that you performed on autopilot. The only solace you found was in the brief moments of distraction that work could provide. Yet, even in those moments, Hongjoong’s image—his smile, his kindness, and that playful glint in his eye—kept creeping back into your mind.

Why did it have to be so difficult? You’d always been so cautious, so careful with your heart, and now this one act of bravery—or foolishness—had left you feeling more exposed and vulnerable than ever before. The fear of facing rejection again loomed large, and you couldn’t bear the thought of putting yourself through that kind of pain once more.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On the seventh day, there was a knock at your apartment door. Thinking that it was the food you had ordered, you begrudgingly made your way to your door. To avoid having a stranger see the mess of a state you were in, you only opened it far enough for someone to pass the bag of food to you. A perfectly manicured hand wrapped around the side of your door and pulled it all the way open.

“Seonghwa!” Your eyes widened at the man in front of you.

“It’s been four days and you’ve declined all of our meetups,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

Your bottom lip quivered. It wasn’t as if you had gone through heartbreak, or had broken up with a long-term partner, but Seonghwa always managed to get you to crack as soon as you were remotely upset. You threw your arms around him and sobbed against his chest.

“I fucked up, and he totally hates me now!” you wailed in between sobs.

Seonghwa let out a soft sigh and gently patted your back as he invited himself inside. While it was difficult to move around while still holding him, you refused to let go. Your friend stayed with you by your front door, patting your back and mumbling “there, there” every few seconds. After some time of crying, your sobs slowly dying down, there was another knock at the door.

“Food delivery!”

“Coming!” Seonghwa answered. “Go inside, okay? I’ll get that for you, and then we can sit down and talk.”

Seonghwa made himself a cup of tea while you ate your dinner. He hadn’t said anything since the delivery guy had left, and you were trying your best to ignore the tension growing from it. You could practically hear him thinking from where you sat on your couch. Seonghwa was simply watching you from the kitchen counter, where he was leaning and sipping his tea, and waiting for you to make the first move.

“I may have overreacted,” you finally said after finishing your plate. “But I don’t think I’ll ever see him again- just out of embarrassment, really.”

“So you asked him out and he said no?” Seonghwa approached the couch and sat down next to you.

“Well, not really…” You looked at him suspiciously. “You’re not going to tell him we talked, right? I know you’re friends, he told me.”

“I know he told you.” He sighed and put down his cup on your coffee table. “And no, I won’t tell him anything. I’m your friend too, you know?”

“How can I be so sure when you didn’t even tell me that you have a tattoo?” you argued playfully. “How have you hidden a back tattoo from everyone?”

“Don’t change the subject,” he warned. “What happened? Did he say no?”

“Hasn’t he told you already?”

“I haven’t seen him since last week.”

“Oh…” You fidgeted with your fingers and took a deep breath before continuing. “I walked in there, got nervous, and blurted it out like an idiot. He looked so shocked that I just walked out…”

“You didn’t even let him answer?” Seonghwa exclaimed.

You put your head in your hands with a big groan. Falling on your side, you put your head on your friend’s lap - silently asking him to pat your back again. Seonghwa put a hand on your shoulder, while the other played with your hair. You wanted so desperately to know his secrets to have his shit together, but you knew that he’d never tell you — instead, he’d just tell you that you’ll “figure it out.” Whatever that means.

“I just wanted to spare him from having to let me down,” you explained. “It was written all over his face.”

“Y/N, you wouldn’t know what that guy was thinking even if it actually was written on his face,” Seonghwa answered with another sigh. “I can talk to him for you if you want to.”

“You’re not my mom,” you said, “And he’s not my middle school bully.”

“No, you’re right, I’m your mutual friend who could settle this miscommunication…”

You sat back up, facing away from Seonghwa. Rationally, you knew that he was right and that you probably should try to smooth things over. However, you didn’t want to make it worse by not being able to do it yourself. 

“I’m fine, I promise,” you muttered.

“Okay…” He stood up and walked over to your door. “Then you’re coming out with me tomorrow. At our usual place, around eight, okay? Dress up cute, you deserve to feel luxurious.”

“Fine.”

At eight PM the next day, you’re standing outside the bar where you’d promise Seonghwa you’d meet him. To make yourself feel better, you dressed up for the occasion - wearing the items in your closet that you never got a chance to wear otherwise. The cold crept in as the evening turned darker, and you were starting to regret your pretty but short dress. Lucky for you, you saw your friend walking up the street with long steps - it doesn’t take long for him to get to you.

“Sorry, I’m late- work, you know?” He immediately grabbed your arm and led you through the doors to the bar. “You look great.”

“Thank you?” You’re not sure he heard you as he pulled you through the loud crowd to your usual table in the corner, where someone was already sitting.

Your mouth fell open as you saw who was sitting in your usual seat. Hongjoong was looking right at you, just as shocked as he was the last time you saw him. His hair was still blond, mostly hidden under a beat-up, black cap that looked like he had decorated it himself—no manufactured cap could look so creative and authentically him. He stood up to greet Seonghwa, but his eyes never left yours. You couldn't tell if he was checking you out or questioning his decision to come here. You couldn't help but check him out; he was dressed more casually than you but still somehow outdressed you. The sleeves of his black hoodie were pushed up, revealing tattoos that curled up his forearms, and his jeans were artfully distressed. Seonghwa all but forced you to sit down on the couch seat next to Hongjoong.

"I'll get us drinks!" Seonghwa shouted as he walked back into the crowd.

You hadn't had time to process what was happening, but as Seonghwa left, you were filled with embarrassment and pure rage—the latter almost overpowering the former. Almost.

"Hi," Hongjoong said, his voice a familiar blend of calm and curiosity.

He was sitting close enough to talk normally, and you could feel the warmth radiating from him, just like when he had given you that piercing—a constant reminder of your embarrassment. Only a truly cruel creature would curse you with an uncomfortable new hole in your ear that you had to ever so carefully take care of, which, on top of everything, made you think about Hongjoong. However, considering that you had just been freezing, you welcomed his warmth, to the point where you had to keep yourself from leaning closer to him. His scent, a mix of cedarwood and something distinctly him was both comforting and disarming.

"Hi," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

Before either of you could speak any further, Seonghwa came back with two bottles of soju and two small glasses. He put them down in front of you, giving you both a look that could only be described as a parent telling their kids to make up after a fight.

"Talk." He pushed the bottles toward the two of you and took a few steps away from the table. "I'm not going to be your messenger."

"Wait, where are you going?" you asked, a hint of panic in your voice.

"Home! To my cat!" He smiled and waved before disappearing into the crowd.

Hongjoong leaned back in his seat with a scoff, making you look over at him. His head was leaning back against the wall, and his eyes were shut tight as if trying to find some inner peace. Suddenly, he sat back up and picked up one of the bottles. As he opened a bottle of soju, he motioned for you to pick up one of the glasses. You did as he asked, and he poured you a shot, the liquid shimmering in the dim light of the room.

“Might as well, right?” he said.

“Right…” You nodded and put the glass to your lips.

“You look pretty.” His words made you choke on the liquid as it came down your throat.

Hongjoong apologized profusely as he patted your back while you coughed. You looked up at him with teary eyes, and the worried look in his eye changed to his usual playful look. The two of you broke out in laughter, the tension finally releasing you from its grasp.

“Off to a good start,” you said and picked up the bottle to offer to pour him a shot.

He accepted the drink, and the two of you took a shot together. Hongjoong’s knee was grazing against yours and, despite the burning sensation, you refused to remove it. As he put down his empty glass, he turned to you.

“I’m sorry about before,” he said, “I was going to say something- you just surprised me.”

“Please, it’s not your fault… I shouldn’t have asked you out in the first place.” You sighed as you poured yourself another drink. “I should know better than to assume your good customer service was flirting.”

“But I was flirting.”

You whipped your head to face him again. He was so casual about it, taking another drink before meeting your gaze. Hongjoong smiled as if he hadn’t just said what he had said, and you felt an overwhelming urge to disappear for at least a few months. The nonchalance in his expression, combined with the casual lift of his glass, made you feel like the ground had shifted beneath you.

“You were flirting?” you asked and looked down at your hands. “So I was overreacting this entire time?”

“Well, I didn’t exactly handle it great,” he countered. “I think you had every right to be upset by my reaction- even if it would’ve been nice if you had stayed to hear my answer first.”

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry.” He leaned his head down to try to meet your lowered gaze. “We’re here now, right?”

You looked up at him, and he gave you a lopsided grin that you couldn’t help but return. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe you were just feeling butterflies in your stomach, nevertheless, your skin was tingling all over.

“Even if it was orchestrated by our friend,” you added.

“Yeah… can’t say that I hate him for it, though.” He turned to pour himself another drink, but you could see his shy smile.

“So?” you said, suddenly more confident as you leaned in a little closer to him.

“What?” He looked back at you, his nose inches away from yours.

“Would you go out on a date with me?”

“Sure. Wanna go now?”

That’s how you end up walking beside Hongjoong to a small restaurant that he had looked up just a few minutes earlier. It was close to the bar, but you were already freezing after just a few minutes. You glanced at the jacket hanging over Hongjoong’s arm - it felt a little cliché of him to have a leather jacket, but you suppose it’s part of his charm - and pray that he can sense that you’re freezing.

“Aren’t you cold?” you asked.

“Not really,” he replied. “Are you?”

“A little,” you mumbled.

He picked up his jacket from his arm, and got your hopes up, only to put it down on the other arm - the one furthest away from you. Your brows furrowed slightly but before your brain could start spinning ideas, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He had given you a taste of his warmth before, but now it overflowed in you. You kept your eyes on your feet as you kept walking, and Hongjoong bent down to try to find your gaze.

“Warm?” he asked.

“Why’d you…” You couldn’t find any words, too engrossed in his embrace.

“What? Did you want my jacket?” He finally got you to look at him, and flashed you a teasing grin. “Cute.”

He must have been a little tipsy — as evident by the pink glow on his cheeks — because, while he had been confident before, you had never seen him so comfortable being a flirt like he was right now. Hongjoong let go of you and took his jacket to wrap around your shoulders. The jacket was heavy and his scent lingered on it, it was a constant reminder of what his hold would feel like. A while ago, you would’ve never believed that you’d be in this position - now that you were, it was almost overwhelming.

“The restaurant’s over there!” Hongjoong grabbed your hand and led the way, completely unaware of the effect he had on you. “Let’s go!”

“Favorite color?”

“Red and yellow.”

“Really? Not black?”

“I like colors, too.”

You hummed and picked up another fry. The restaurant Hongjoong had found was a cute 50s-themed diner - the kind with big milkshakes and long, plastic menus. It was late, and this had been the only thing open that you didn’t need a reservation for. The milkshake you shared was almost gone, and the fries were half-eaten and getting cold. Both of you stuck out in your colorful booth - you for being so dressed up, and Hongjoong for being dressed in all black. It wasn’t the kind of date you’d brag to your friends about, but you were still having a good time. 

“What is your…” Hongjoong leaned back and paused to think of his next question. “... favorite ice cream flavor?”

The two of you had been going back and forth, asking each other banal questions to get to know each other better - getting through the questions quickly “to make up for lost time,” as Hongjoong had put it.

“Hm… that’s hard,” you muttered. “I do like mint-choco–”

“No…” Hongjoong groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose in disappointment. “You’re seriously into chocolate and toothpaste?”

“It doesn’t taste like toothpaste!” You giggled. “You can’t judge me, you like minions.”

“They’re cute!”

“They’re horrible!” you countered. 

“Maybe you just have bad taste.” Hongjoong ate another fry before meeting your eyes again, slightly more serious. “Except for tattoos, I think your design was really sick.”

You leaned against the table, the plastic sticking to your warm skin - just a few seconds ago you had been freezing, but now you could practically be the heat source for your entire apartment complex. 

“It’s all you,” you said earnestly. “You really brought it to life.”

He leaned against the table with his forearms as well, his hand getting closer and closer to yours but his eyes never looked away from your face.

“If you keep complimenting me like that, I’m going to start thinking you’re trying to seduce me.” His middle finger reached yours, and you swore you could feel sparks coming from where they met.

Maybe it’s the lighting, but you swear that his brown eyes go on forever. The lighting can’t make everything else disappear, though - that was just him. Hongjoong’s hand inched closer until it covered the back of your hand. The intricate tattoos on his hand were faded, but it made it seem more genuine. This feeling was dangerous, you knew that - but can’t you allow yourself one night of indulgence? As you were about to reply, the waitress came up to your table.

“Is everything alright over here?” she asked with a classic customer service tone, but her tapping foot told a different story from her bright smile.

“Yeah, thank you.” You sat back in your seat, pulling your hand with you and onto your lap - you could no longer look Hongjoong in the eye, not now when the spell was interrupted.

“Alright, just checking in,” the waitress continued. “Just to let you know, we close in about fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, don’t worry, we were about to leave now anyway,” Hongjoong answered and stood up from his seat and put enough cash on the table to cover the cost of the food and a tip. “Can I walk you home, Y/N?”

You looked up at him as he held his hand out to you. With little to no hesitation, you grabbed the leather jacket by your side and took his hand. The two of you said goodbye to the waitress and thanked her, before quickly leaving the establishment.

Hongjoong walked you home, the two of you talking all the way to your apartment. You asked him about his practice, and he asked you about your plans for the future once you had told him you didn’t want to continue being a barista. His jacket was wrapped around your shoulders again, but now his hand was in yours - keeping you more than warm. The streetlights were illuminating your path toward your apartment complex, and you could already see the building in the distance. A sudden urge to slow your steps down struck you then - a need to slow time to make his presence last. Maybe it was his warmth or the way he laughed at every silly joke you said, but you couldn’t help but want to spend more time with him. You’re so lost in your world, that you don’t even realize that Hongjoong has quieted down - or that he’s staring at you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just tired,” you answered, almost too quickly.

“It’s late.” He nodded. “Where’s your place?”

“Just up ahead.” You pointed to your building and let your arm fall to your side again. “You don’t have to walk me all the way if you don’t want to.”

“I want to.” He shrugged. “I liked spending time with you tonight.”

While his eyes were fixated on the building not too far from you, you took the time to study his profile. Enamored with the sharp lines of his face — his nose, his jaw, his cheekbones — you found yourself wanting to look at him for just a little bit longer; as if you had wasted so much time by looking away out of shyness. Before you knew it, you arrived at the door to your apartment complex and Hongjoong stopped walking.

“I’ll wait for you to get inside,” he promised as he turned to you with a boyish smile.

You almost wanted to ask him to come up to your place, but decided it would be too forward for a first date. If he had been anyone else you might’ve invited him up, but Hongjoong was the type of person you wanted to savor. 

“Goodnight, then,” you said with a smile and started walking to the door.

“I’m glad that Seonghwa made me come out tonight,” he added quickly and you turned back to him. “Really glad.”

Within a few steps, you were right next to him again. Leaning towards him, you pressed a kiss on his cheek. He took your jaw in your hands, bringing you closer for a real kiss. It was short and chased, but you could feel the effort it took for him to break the kiss as the air around you became thick. 

“I’m glad, too,” you murmured. 

“Goodnight, then,” he mimicked you.

“Goodnight.” You gave him a last smile before turning around and walking into your apartment building.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

A few days passed before you saw Hongjoong again. During that time, you couldn't stop talking your friends' ears off about him—every conversation seemed to circle back to his smile, his style, and the way he made you feel. Your friends, exasperated yet amused, repeatedly urged you to ask him out on another date already. The only problem was that you still hadn’t gotten his number. Despite this, luck seemed to be on your side. 

The late shift had been brutal. You were exhausted, every muscle in your body ached, and all you wanted was to collapse into bed. The chaos of the day had left the place in disarray, and cleaning up had taken what little energy you had left. As you dragged your feet towards the exit, you heard your name being called out.

You turned, slightly puzzled, to see Hongjoong standing beside a sleek red motorbike. You blinked in surprise, not having expected him to be the type to ride a motorcycle. The sight was jarring at first, but then you realized it actually fit perfectly with his whole aesthetic—edgy, confident, and effortlessly cool. His face lit up with a smile that made your heart skip a beat. You hadn't seen him in a while, and the sight of him brought a rush of mixed emotions.

"Hey! Need a ride home?" he called out, holding up a spare helmet.

“How did you know my shift ended now?” you questioned with an incredulous smile.

“I asked Seonghwa,” he explained with a shrug. “Thought, since I hadn’t seen you in a while, I’d offer you a lift.”

“You did?” You felt your face grow warm as he walked over to you. “That’s very sweet of you…”

“So can I?” he asked.

You had no clue what he was talking about, as you were too distracted by everything about him. Now that he had come a little closer, you could smell the faint scent of his intoxicating perfume. An urge to wrap your arms around him hit you then, and you had to press your nails into your palms to stop yourself.

“Can you what?” You looked up at him with big eyes.

“Drive you home?” He let out a small laugh that had your heart beating a mile per minute.

You blinked, processing the offer. "Uh, sure," you replied, your voice wavering with nerves and excitement.

Hongjoong's grin widened. "Great! Hop on."

Hongjoong walked back to the bike, got you a helmet, and helped you put it on. With shaky hands, you took the helmet and fastened it on, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach. Climbing onto the bike behind him, you hesitated for a moment before wrapping your arms around his waist. The engine roared to life, and you clung to him tightly as the bike sped off into the night.

The ride was a whirlwind of sensations. The cool evening air rushed past, the roar of the engine vibrated through you, and the warmth of Hongjoong's body against yours provided a strange comfort. Fear and exhilaration mingled as you held on, your heart pounding not just from the speed, but from the closeness to him.

When he finally pulled up in front of your place, you reluctantly let go and removed the helmet, your hair slightly tousled. Hongjoong turned to you with that infectious smile. He got off after you and walked you to the door of your apartment complex.

"Safe and sound," he said as you arrived at the door. "Hope the ride wasn’t too scary."

You shook your head, unable to suppress a grin. "No, it was... amazing. Thanks for the ride home, Hongjoong."

"Anytime," he replied, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer. "Get some rest.”

It was a sure goodbye, but neither of you moved. You kept your eyes on him, and you couldn’t shake the building anticipation in your chest. A realization that you still didn’t have his number hit you—your eyes widened and you let out a soft gasp. Hongjoong raised his eyebrows in slight surprise, as he watched you rummage around your bag. Finally, you pulled out your phone.

“I don’t have your number!” you exclaimed.

“Well, we can’t have that, can we?” Hongjoong chuckled and took your phone in his hand.

The screen showed a new contact, and he typed his information into the small boxes. It only took a few seconds before he was done, and he handed you back the phone. “Tattoo guy,” it said in the box where his name should be.

“Tattoo guy?” You snorted. “Is that how you think I see you?”

“Okay wait, give it back. I’ll fix it.” Hongjoong chuckled and held out his hand.

You put the phone back in his hand, and he quickly typed something new in the name box. When you got your phone back it now said “Cute tattoo guy” instead. You smiled at the phone and looked back up at him.

“I’ll accept it.” You nodded.

“Good,” he said and paused to look at you. “I really want to kiss you again… is that okay?”

“More than okay.”

Hongjoong leaned down, capturing your lips with his for a chaste kiss that left you wanting more. Yet again, he didn’t give you more—but he smiled knowingly when he noticed how you chased after his lips. 

“Call me?" he asked.

"Definitely," you nodded, feeling a warmth spread through you at the prospect.

As you watched him ride off into the night, you couldn't help but feel a spark of something new and exciting igniting within you. The exhaustion of the shift faded away, replaced by a thrill.

After getting up to your apartment and getting ready for bed, you called him. You weren’t sure if he had meant “call me as soon as you can” when he had asked you to call him, but you didn’t know when else to call. Your heartbeat quickened with each ring before he eventually answered.

“Hello?”

You heard someone shushing other people in the background—maybe you were hallucinating, or it really sounded like Seonghwa. 

“Hongjoong?” you asked.

“Hi, sweetheart!” You heard him shuffle to get up, the murmurs continued before you heard a door open and shut—the wind was now the only background noise.

“Am I interrupting something?” you mumbled.

“Not at all, I’m just with a few friends,” he explained. “I was going to step out for a smoke anyway, they’ll just have to deal with my absence for a bit.”

You heard the sound of a pack of cigarettes opening and a lighter being lit. With the nerves slowly disappearing, you lay down on your back on your bed.

“You smoke?” you asked.

“Is that a turn-off?” he answered with a question. “I’ll stop if it is.”

“No, it’s fine.” You giggled and turned over on your stomach. “I’ve just never smelt any smoke on you before.”

“I don’t smoke that much. I’m trying to quit,” he admitted. “... just not very hard.”

The sound of him taking another drag from the cigarette echoed through the phone, and you let out another small laugh. You felt like you were in high school again, your feet kicking in the air in a slow rhythm.

“Is there a special reason you called tonight, or do you just miss me, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Ah, well… you said to call you and I wasn’t sure when I was supposed to…” you mumbled.

“You’re cute.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m glad you called, actually. I wanted to ask you out on another date.”

You could feel your heart beating in your throat as you listened to Hongjoong's voice on the other end of the line. You fumbled around on your bed until you sat up, trying to calm your nerves. Even though he couldn't see you, you quickly fixed your now messed-up hair, wanting to feel more presentable. His laugh echoed through the phone, and you found yourself smiling, but your hands still shook a little. Talking to him made your heart race, and you couldn't help but imagine him right there with you.

“When?” you asked.

“I have a late appointment tomorrow,” he admitted. “But how about the day after that?”

“I could do that–” You hesitated and thought of your work schedule. “I have a shift until the afternoon, but I could meet you after.”

“Sounds great, I’ll pick you up after your shift. Just text me what time it ends and I’ll be there.” The sound of the door opening and the chatter from inside poured through the phone. Someone asked Hongjoong something and he told them to wait a minute. “Sorry, sweetheart, I have to hang up… text me later, okay?”

“I will,” you hummed. “Goodnight, Hongjoong.”

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said melodically. 

You hung up with a big grin on your face. The only issue now was how you could ever fall asleep tonight.

The day of your date finally arrives. You finish your shift and eagerly text him the time you’ll be off your shift. True to his word, you spot him waiting for you outside your workplace on his sleek black motorbike, a charming smile lighting up his face as you approach.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets you warmly, swinging off the bike to offer you a helmet. “Ready for a little adventure?”

You grin, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of riding with him. “Absolutely!”

You hop on behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist as he starts the engine with a low rumble. The ride to the rooftop bar is exhilarating, the wind tousling your hair and the city passing by in a blur of lights. Hongjoong navigates effortlessly through the traffic, occasionally glancing back to check if you’re comfortable.

Arriving at the rooftop bar, you dismount gracefully, a thrill still lingering from the ride. Hongjoong leads you inside through a discreet entrance, where soft, ambient lighting and the distant hum of conversation immediately set a sophisticated and intimate mood. It’s a casual bar, making your nerves about being underdressed disappear. The bar is adorned with modern decor, plush seating, and a breathtaking view of the city skyline twinkling in the distance.

“This place looks amazing,” you comment, taking in the cozy atmosphere as you settle into your seat at a secluded table.

“I thought you might like it,” Hongjoong replies with a grin.

A waiter walks up and talks to Hongjoong like they’re old friends. He introduces himself to you as Yunho and offers the two of you free first drinks. While Hongjoong tries to decline, Yunho is adamant that he wants to leave a good impression on the person who’s had Hongjoong so distracted lately. With that teasing remark, Hongjoong lets up. Yunho leaves with a wink to you, telling you that he’ll be back with drinks soon.

“I thought he’d be normal about this,” Hongjoond admitted with a sigh. “Sorry…”

“I think he’s nice,” you said and looked over at him with a sly smile. “... I distract you?”

“No– well, yes, but…” You’ve never seen Hongjoong stumble over his words like this before, it’s a sight you could get used to. “I was at Yunho’s place when you called the other day. They haven’t stopped teasing me about it since.”

“I’m sorry,” you said with a not-so-sorry smile but decided to change the subject to be lenient on him. “How do you know each other?”

“He’s in a band I’ve written a few songs for,” he explained. “I’ll take you to one of their gigs sometime if you want.”

“That sounds fun.” You stare at him quizzically. “You just keep revealing new secrets to me, I’m wondering what else you’re hiding.”

“What?”

“It’s just that… there’s so much I don’t know about you, and everything new I learn surprises me.” 

You fidget with one of the napkins on the table. Hongjoong puts one of his hands on top of yours, finding his way to hold your hand. When you looked up at him, he was smiling—a smile that was more like a hug, comforting and soothing.

“I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” he said. “Soon it won’t be very surprising.”

“I’ll be honest… I don’t know how you could possibly top being a smoking, bike-riding, song-writer.” You let out a nervous chuckle.

Before he can answer, Yunho comes back with the drinks. As you sipped your cocktails, conversation flowed effortlessly between you. You talked about music, discovering Hongjoong’s unique taste, and deep knowledge of various genres. The live band started playing soft, soulful tunes, their melodies blending seamlessly with the murmurs of other patrons.

At one point, Hongjoong leans closer, his voice softening. “I’m really glad we could do this,” he says, his eyes locked on yours. “You look beautiful tonight.”

You blushed at his compliment, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Thank you,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze with a smile.

The night continued with laughter and meaningful conversation. Hongjoong suggested taking a walk along the rooftop’s edge, where you can feel the cool night breeze and admire the city lights below. You strolled hand in hand, the soft glow of the moon overhead adding to the enchanting atmosphere.

As the evening winds down, Hongjoong leads you back to his bike, helmet in hand. He helped you put it on with a gentle touch, the closeness making your heart race with anticipation. The ride home was quick, and Hongjoong drove carefully—although he only had one drink many hours ago, he told you that he didn’t want to risk it.

“Thank you for tonight,” you said softly, overwhelmed with gratitude for the wonderful evening.

“It was my pleasure,” Hongjoong replied warmly, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. “Can we do this again soon?”

You nodded eagerly, already looking forward to the next adventure with him.

“I’ll text you,” he promised, leaning in to give you a tender kiss on the cheek before you parted ways.

You watched him ride off into the night again, a contented smile on your face. This night, filled with exhilarating moments, heartfelt conversations, and a touch of romance, has left you certain of one thing—Hongjoong is someone special.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The following week, you decided to surprise Hongjoong with lunch. He had mentioned offhandedly that he often didn’t have time to grab something to eat between appointments, and you figured a little gesture of kindness would brighten his day—and give you a reason to see him again. You had the morning shift, and at the end of it, you made the lunch of any leftovers that your boss wouldn’t notice if it went missing. As soon as the clock struck twelve, and your shift was over, you headed out.

As you approached the studio, you saw Hongjoong through the window, chatting with a customer. Your heart sank when you realized it was the same person he had been talking to the last time you were here. She was as gorgeous and intimidating as the first time you had seen her. They were laughing, and the way she leaned in closely sent a pang of jealousy through you.

You hesitated at the door, debating whether to turn around and leave. Just as you were about to retreat, Hongjoong glanced up and his eyes met yours. His face lit up with that familiar, infectious smile, and he immediately bounced over to the door, leaving the customer mid-sentence.

"Y/N! What brings you here?" he asked, genuinely pleased to see you.

You held up the lunch bag, trying to keep your tone casual. "I brought you lunch. You mentioned you didn’t have much time to get food, so I thought I’d help out."

Hongjoong's eyes sparkled with delight. "That’s so sweet of you."

He took the bag from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. The customer, now standing awkwardly by the counter, cleared her throat and gave a half-hearted smile before leaving the studio with a curt goodbye.

Hongjoong didn’t seem to notice the customer's departure or the slightly annoyed look on her face. Instead, he turned his full attention to you, completely oblivious to the fact that she had been flirting with him just moments before. Your eyes met his again after watching her leave.

"Was that jealousy I saw on your face just now?" he teased, raising an eyebrow playfully. "You looked like you were ready to storm out."

You felt your cheeks heat up and quickly shook your head. "No, I just... didn’t want to interrupt."

Hongjoong chuckled warmly, his laughter putting you at ease. "Well, I’m glad you did. This looks delicious." He peeked into the bag and smiled appreciatively. "Seriously, thank you."

You shrugged modestly, attempting to hide your nervousness. "It’s nothing. Just thought you could use a good meal."

His expression softened as he stepped closer. "It means a lot. Really. I’ll make sure to savor every bite."

His sincerity touched you deeply, and a warm feeling spread through your chest. "I’m glad," you managed to say, feeling a surge of happiness at his genuine appreciation.

Hongjoong leaned in slightly, his voice softer now. "You always seem to know how to make my day better," he confessed, his gaze earnest.

A flutter of butterflies danced in your stomach at his words. "I’m just happy to help," you replied softly, meeting his eyes with a smile.

He nodded, his smile widening. "Well, I’m grateful for it. And I owe you one."

Before you could respond, he reached out and gently squeezed your hand, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. The simple gesture sent a rush of warmth through you, leaving you both comforted and excited for what might come next.

"I'd love for you to stay," Hongjoong said earnestly, his eyes reflecting a mix of sincerity and hope.

You hesitated, feeling a flutter of nerves despite the warmth his presence brought. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to intrude..."

Hongjoong shook his head, his smile reassuring. "You wouldn't be intruding at all. I enjoy your company, and I'd love to share this lunch with you."

His sincerity melted away your reservations. "Okay then," you replied softly, smiling back at him.

He led you to a cozy corner of his office where he had already set out the lunch you had brought. You settled into chairs nearby, the familiar buzz of the studio outside muffled by the closed door.

As you both ate, the conversation flowed easily between you. You talked about his latest projects, your shared love for certain bands, and plans for the upcoming weekend. Hongjoong's passion for music shone through as he animatedly described his friend’s upcoming gig.

"You should come," he suggested, his eyes lighting up. "It’s going to be a great show, and I’d love for you to be there."

You considered it for a moment, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of experiencing another part of Hongjoong’s world. "I'd love to come," you replied warmly. "It sounds like a lot of fun."

His smile widened, a mixture of happiness and anticipation. "Great! I’ll send you the details later. My friends will love you, I’m sure."

As lunch drew to a close, you found yourself reluctant to leave. The afternoon had been unexpectedly intimate and comforting, deepening the bond between you and Hongjoong. You were beginning to see glimpses of how well you fit together, like pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

"I should probably get going," you said, glancing at the time.

Hongjoong nodded, but his eyes held a hint of reluctance. "I understand. Thanks for staying. I always enjoy your company."

You smiled warmly. "Thank you for inviting me. I had a great time."

Walking out of the tattoo shop, you couldn’t help but replay the moments spent with Hongjoong in your mind. Each interaction seemed to reinforce the connection between you, leaving you eager for more shared experiences and conversations. As promised, Hongjoong texted you later with the details of his friend's gig. You replied with enthusiasm, already looking forward to the weekend and the chance to see him again. 

Your heart raced with excitement and a touch of nervousness as you meticulously prepared for your next date with Hongjoong. After several wardrobe changes and a quick touch-up of makeup, you settled on your favorite outfit: a soft, flowy blouse paired with well-fitted jeans. The blouse, a delicate shade of lavender, complemented your complexion, while the jeans, perfectly worn-in, exuded a laid-back vibe. You added a few subtle accessories—a dainty necklace that caught the light just so, and a pair of earrings that added a touch of sparkle.

The anticipation bubbled within you as you imagined the evening ahead. It wasn't just about the outing itself but the chance to see Hongjoong in his element, surrounded by the music and energy that fueled his passion. You wondered what surprises the night might hold, eager to share more moments together and deepen the connection that had been growing steadily between you.

With a final check of your phone for any messages from Hongjoong, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door. Each step carried a mixture of excitement and anticipation, knowing that tonight would be another chapter in your unfolding story with Hongjoong—a story that seemed to promise more laughter, heartfelt conversations, and perhaps even a hint of romance.

When you arrived at the venue, the place was already buzzing with energy. The dim, moody lighting and the low hum of the crowd set the perfect atmosphere for a night of live music. Hongjoong had invited you to his friend's gig, and as you stepped inside, you couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between your outfit and the attire of the other attendees. The room was filled with people dressed in sleek black attire—leather jackets, ripped jeans, and boots. Hongjoong fit right in.

For a moment, self-consciousness crept in as you wondered if you had misjudged the dress code. However, Hongjoong's wide smile and warm hug dispelled any lingering doubts.

"I’m so glad you came," he said, taking your hand. 

You returned his hug, feeling reassured by his warmth. "Wouldn't miss it," you replied with a smile, trying to shake off your initial uncertainty about your outfit choice.

Hongjoong glanced at your outfit, a playful glint in his eyes. "You look amazing," he said sincerely, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "I love the pop of color—it stands out in the best way."

His compliment eased your nerves, and you found yourself relaxing in the vibrant atmosphere of the venue. As Hongjoong's friend took the stage, you settled in beside him, enjoying the electrifying energy of the crowd and the raw passion in the music.

As the concert started, the venue's atmosphere crackled with energy. Jongho, the charismatic singer; Mingi and San, the energetic guitarists; Yunho, the cool and composed bassist; and Yeosang, the talented drummer took their positions on stage. Wooyoung, who, despite not seemingly being a part of the band, was just backstage as Hongjoong pointed out to you. If only Seonghwa were here, the entire group would be together—and you were starting to notice why they were so close.

They launched into their first song, filling the air with pulsating rhythms and electrifying melodies. Not only was their music and stage presence impressive, their chemistry with each other was undeniable. The crowd around you danced and cheered, fully immersed in the music and the infectious excitement of the performance.

You stood beside Hongjoong, initially captivated by his enthusiasm and the way he effortlessly moved to the beat. However, as the concert progressed and the crowd grew more animated, you found yourself momentarily separated from him in the sea of bodies. Panic gripped your chest as you scanned the area, searching for his familiar figure amidst the shifting shadows and flashes of colored lights.

The dim lighting and the swirling mass of people seemed to conspire against you, making it difficult to pinpoint his location. Voices merged into a distant roar, blending with the thumping bass and reverberating guitar riffs. You pushed through the crowd, calling out his name in a mix of urgency and concern, your heart pounding in your ears.

Just as your anxiety peaked, a flash of bleach-blonde hair caught your eye in the crowd ahead. Relief flooded through you like a tidal wave as you hurried towards him. Hongjoong turned at the sound of your voice, his face breaking into a wide smile when he saw you approaching.

"Hey! There you are," he exclaimed over the music, reaching out to take you by your waist and pull you in closer.

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the tension drain from your body. "I was looking everywhere for you," you admitted, relieved beyond words to have found him safe and sound.

He chuckled, his eyes bright with amusement and affection. "Sorry about that. Got caught up in the music." He leaned in and spoke softly in your ear.

You couldn't help but smile back, the rush of emotions settling into a warm glow of contentment. "It's okay," you replied. "I'm just glad I found you."

He took your hand again, and this time, he didn’t let go. You moved through the crowd together, finding a spot near the stage where you had a great view of the performance. The band was fantastic, and you quickly realized why Hongjoong was so proud of his friends. Together, you leaned into each other, enjoying the rest of the concert side by side. The music continued to pulse through the air, weaving a tapestry of melodies that seemed to resonate with the newfound closeness between you.

After the set, he led you backstage—an area littered with dirty towels, instruments, gear, and a few empty beer bottles—a grin spreading across his face as he introduced you to everyone. "Guys, this is the person I’ve been telling you about."

They greeted you warmly, but it wasn’t long before the teasing began. Jongho was the first to speak up, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, you’re the one who’s got Hongjoong all smitten?"

Mingi chuckled, nudging San. "Yeah, you don’t look like his usual type at all."

San nodded a playful smirk on his face. "Looks like our boy Hongjoong has developed a bit of a corruption kink, huh?"

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, and you glanced at Hongjoong, who was trying to suppress a laugh. "Guys, come on," he said, shaking his head. "Don’t scare them off."

Yeosang joined in, trying to make up for the others’ drunken comments. "We’re just surprised. You look so sweet and innocent compared to his usual taste."

You felt a mix of emotions—embarrassment, amusement, and a strange sort of pride. Despite the teasing, it was clear they cared about Hongjoong and were curious about you. Hongjoong wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close.

"Don’t mind them," he whispered in your ear. "They can be jerks when they’re drunk."

You smiled up at him, feeling more at ease. "It’s okay. I can handle it."

Wooyoung clapped his hands together, grinning. "Alright, enough teasing. Let’s get to the after-party!"

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, music, and good company. Hongjoong stayed by your side, making sure you felt included and comfortable. As the night drew to a close, you realized how much you enjoyed being a part of his world and seeing him in his element.

When it was time to leave, Hongjoong walked you to the front door, his arm wrapped protectively around you. "Thanks for coming tonight," he said softly.

You smiled, leaning into him. "I had a great time. I like your friends."

He chuckled. "Yeah, they’re a handful, but they’re the best." You stood there for a moment, the night air cool and crisp around you. You wanted to say something else, to question what his friends had said earlier, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

Hongjoong drove you home, the hum of the engine and the cool night air doing little to ease the swirling thoughts in your mind. You couldn’t stop thinking about what Hongjoong’s friends had said. The teasing comments replayed in your head, making you wonder if you really were out of place in his life.

When he pulled up in front of your apartment, you hesitated before speaking. "Hongjoong, would you mind coming inside for a bit?"

He looked at you, concern etched on his face. "Of course. Let’s go."

He parked his motorbike and followed you inside the apartment complex for the first time. You led him up to your apartment, feeling a mix of anxiety and anticipation. As you opened the door and stepped inside, you suddenly felt self-conscious about the cute decor—soft pastel colors, plush cushions, and delicate trinkets that filled the space. It was a stark contrast to the edgy vibe Hongjoong and his friends exuded—the very reason you were feeling so self-conscious.

He took in the surroundings with a smile. "Your place is really nice. It suits you."

You blushed, fidgeting slightly. "Thanks. I just... I know it’s not exactly your style."

Hongjoong stepped closer, his expression was serious yet gentle. "This isn’t about what the guys said, right? I think it’s great. It’s you."

You looked down, feeling a little better but still needing answers. "Well... they made me feel… Am I not your type?"

He sighed, running a hand through his bleached hair. "They were just messing around. I’m sorry if they made you uncomfortable– it’s just that, they know me. They know how I was before you. In the past… I wasn’t always the nicest guy when it came to relationships."

You looked at him, curiosity and concern mixing in your gaze. "What do you mean?"

Hongjoong took a deep breath, looking more vulnerable than you’d ever seen him. "I dated a lot, but I never really cared about anyone, I guess? It was all just fun and games to me.” He took a deep breath and looked at you with an overwhelming sense of worry. “But with you, it’s different. You’re different. I don’t want to mess this up."

You couldn’t help yourself, you had to ask. "Is that why you haven’t... you know... tried anything with me yet?"

He opened and closed his mouth again, unprepared for the question. "I just don’t want to scare you off. I don’t want to pressure you into anything you’re not comfortable with."

“Why would you scare me off?” you asked.

Hongjoong’s face turned red, and he looked down at his feet, shuffling them awkwardly. His usual confident demeanor seemed to vanish, replaced by a shy vulnerability that made your heart skip a beat. The blush creeping up his neck and the way he bit his lower lip were both endearing and unexpected, revealing a side of him you hadn't seen before. The silence stretched between you, charged with unspoken emotions.

Hongjoong took a deep breath, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. "I'm a bit more... adventurous in bed than most… God, I can’t even explain it." He groaned and shut his eyes tight.

You blinked, processing his words. The vulnerability in his eyes confessed secrets to you that you hadn’t seen before, a part of him he had kept hidden. "You mean, like... more adventurous how?"

He hesitated, clearly trying to find the right words. "I like trying new things, pushing boundaries… I have certain… kinks. I understand if that’s not what you want– I think that’s what the boys were getting at, that you just don’t… you don’t look like the type to enjoy that, which is completely fine and–"

You reached out, taking his hand in yours, and Hongjoong’s rambling quieted down. "I appreciate you being honest with me. I want to understand you better, and… I’m willing to try some things."

His eyes softened. "Are you sure? You’re not just saying that, right? Because if you don’t want to, it’s totally fine– the last thing I want to do is to make you uncomfortable."

You nodded, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "I trust you… just go slow? Please?"

Hongjoong pulled you into a gentle hug, holding you close. "We’ll take it slow, I promise."

As you stood there in his arms, the worries and doubts from earlier began to fade away. Your arms wrapped around his torso, and you felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. From the way he was acting now, you couldn’t picture him being as rough as he seemed to be alluding to. Excitement bubbled up in your stomach, surprising yourself.

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your eyes meeting his. The intensity in his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. Hongjoong cupped your face gently with one hand, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. The warmth of his touch made your heart race.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat. "Yes."

He leaned in slowly, giving you a chance to back out if you wanted to. But you didn’t. You tilted your head up to meet him halfway, your lips finally touching his. The kiss started out tender and tentative as if he was afraid of breaking the moment. His lips were soft and warm, and you melted into him, feeling the world around you disappear.

As the kiss deepened, his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own. The passion between you grew, the kiss becoming more urgent and fervent. His other hand slid down to your waist, holding you tightly against him.

Time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the kiss, the rest of the world fading away. All that mattered was the connection you felt with him, the electricity coursing through your veins. When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

Hongjoong's eyes were dark with desire, his voice a low murmur. "Should we... go to your bedroom?"

You nodded, your heart racing. "Please."

You took his hand, leading him down the hallway to your bedroom. Your heart was racing when you finally reached the door and opened it. The room was dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the window, casting a gentle glow over the bed.

Hongjoong turned to face you, his expression tender yet intense. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

You smiled, placing your hands over his. "I'm sure."

He kissed you again, this time slower and more deliberate, savoring every moment. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you backed toward the bed. When the back of your legs hit the mattress, you sat down, bringing him with you—his knees on the bed.

Hongjoong's hands roamed over your body over the thin material of your blouse, exploring with a reverent touch. His fingers traced the curve of your spine, sending shivers through you. He kissed along your jawline, down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake.

You leaned back onto the bed, pulling him down with you. The softness of the sheets contrasted with the firmness of his body above you. Hongjoong reached his hand to the buttons of your blouse, which he hesitantly unbuttoned—his lips staying on yours. You helped him take off your clothes, leaving you in your underwear. He pulled away from you and paused for a moment, looking down at you with a mixture of affection and desire. The soft lace of your bra and panties practically called out to him, and he delicately traced it with his fingertips.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

You felt too naked staring at his clothed body. Once he noticed your nervous stare, he pulled off his shirt and shuffled out of his pants. You could see the outline of his cock through his underwear, and you found yourself clenching around nothing at the sight. He smiled, then leaned down to capture your lips once more. The kiss deepened, and you lost yourself in the sensation of his touch, the taste of his lips, the warmth of his body against yours.

“Is it okay if I take this off?” he murmured against your lips, breathless, as he played with the hem of your bra. As soon as you nodded, he unclasped it and let it fall off your shoulders. His lips immediately met your delicate skin, pressing soft kisses before marking your most sensitive areas.

“Hongjoong–” Your breath hitched in your throat as his tongue swirled around your nipple.  

He paused, immediately looking at your face to make sure you were okay. When he saw your swollen lips and big eyes he smiled—unlike the sweet smile you’d seen so many times before, this time he almost looked wicked. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“Is it okay if I tie your hands up, baby?” he asked gently.

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Tie my hands up?” 

“Yes.” He leaned back up and pressed a kiss to your jawline. “Against the headboard. I want to have you writhing underneath me.”

You nodded and whispered a yes when you saw Hongjoong’s stern gaze. While he picked his belt up from the floor, you moved over to the headboard. Without him saying a word, you put your hands up, putting your wrists near one of the railings of the headboard. You knew you had done the right thing when Hongjoong looked at you with a proud smile, and you pressed your legs together at the feeling it gave you.

“You’re so obedient,” he murmured as he went to tie your hands to the headboard. “It’s cute.”

Hongjoong carefully made handcuffs out of his belt and tied your wrists to the headboard. You couldn’t move your arms, but the belt was tied loosely enough for it to still be somewhat comfortable. He put two fingers between your wrist and the leather to make sure it wasn’t too tight. You could probably get yourself out, but you didn’t want to. Hongjoong stepped back to look at you, the wicked smile back on his lips. He got between your legs without another word, pressing his thumb against your clit over the soft material of your panties. You tried to close your legs, but he held them apart.

“Are you doing okay so far, baby?” he asked as he caressed your hips and looked at you with his familiar gentle eyes. You nodded. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“I’m okay,” you murmured.

“Good.” He looked back down at your cunt, noticing the wet patch growing on your underwear. “I’ll keep your hands tied until I’ve made you cum twice… don’t cum without my permission.”

It was clear that he had thought about this before, and the thought of him lying awake at night picturing you in such a lewd position made you throb with need. You’d never noticed this side of you—a depraved part that you had apparently been keeping under lock and key. Hongjoong just had the talent of luring it out of you. When he looked back up at you again, his eyes were ever so slightly softer.

“If you want me to stop, just tell me and I’ll stop immediately. No matter what. Okay, baby?”

“Yes, sir.” The title just came out of your mouth, you didn’t even process it.

Hongjoong didn’t say anything about it, but you could see in his eyes that he liked it—you did well. He laid down between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs to keep them open. Before you could say another word, he pressed his tongue flat over your clothed pussy. You gasped at the sudden warmth, your arms straining against the restraints. Hongjoong groaned at the taste, and you watched his eyes roll into the back of his head as he pressed his nose against your core. Your heart was beating a mile a minute; you’d never seen someone react to you this way. With soft motions—too soft—Hongjoong began rubbing your clit over your panties. It was too slow and you could barely feel anything, your hips desperately bucking up to get more friction. From the look on Hongjoong’s face, this was apparently the point. He wanted to break you, just a little before you got what you wanted. He studied your expression, the way your eyes shut tight and eyebrows furrowed whenever he pushed down a little harder. 

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please what?”

“Take them off,” you begged, “I want to feel you.”

It was all it took for him to rid you of your panties, and you dutifully lifted up your hips to help him. Only a few seconds later, his tongue was on your cunt again—lavishing in how wet you had gotten from just a bit of teasing. It didn’t take long for your orgasm to build up. Your moans grew louder, your legs started shaking, and you pulled more and more on your restraints. Hongjoong kept studying you, keeping his eyes open and focused while eating you out. He stopped before you reached the edge.

“Why?” you whined.

“I told you not to cum without my permission,” he stated, matter-of-fact.

You whined and wiggled your hips. Hongjoong pushed them down with one of his hands, the other one caressing your side soothingly. “As long as you do as I say, you’ll feel good, baby.”

You nodded pathetically— whimpering out another “yes, sir,” which had the same effect on him as it did before. It was all he needed to dive back into your core. His tongue expertly lapped at your pussy, his eyes now closed in pleasure. As his tongue started prodding at your hole, his tongue bumping against your clit, you started grinding on his face. It wasn’t like you meant to do it, it just felt too good. With a stern arm, Hongjoong held you down. You wanted to do something—anything—your orgasm was building up in your stomach once again and you needed to move. You wanted to push your legs together at the overwhelming feeling, pull his head closer to you by his hair, and keep grinding against him all at once. Hongjoong was restricting all of your movements.

“Please, let me cum!” you all but shouted.

“Do it.” Hongjoong’s demand was simple. A low growl that you barely heard over the sound of your own wet pussy, but it had you unraveling there and then.

The sound of you pulling on your restraints was drowned out by your own moans as the coil in your stomach snapped. Hongjoong moaned against your core, the vibrations making your legs shake. You heard yourself murmur a “thank you, sir,” as Hongjoong helped you come down from your high by letting you rub against his palm.

“You’re doing so good,” he praised. “Just one more before I free your hands, alright?”

You hummed. Hongjoong slapped the inside of your thigh, the stinging sensation made you gasp. You looked at him with wide eyes, only to be met with a grin.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you to use your words again, should I, baby?”

You shook your head, and then quickly added, “No, sir.” Hongjoong rubbed a soothing hand over the area where he had slapped you, and you melted into the touch. The feeling quickly disappeared, however, as his fingers reached for your core again. Your head became clouded as his fingers prodded at your entrance. Just one more, you repeated in your head. You wondered if he’d let you have his cock tonight—almost worried about it—and you let out a low whine. Hongjoong looked at you with concern.

“Are you going to… you know…” You looked at his arm, at the tattoos sneaking down to his hand which was still toying with your core. “Fuck me?”

Hongjoong’s hand faltered at your vulgar words, a smile broke out on his face. “Thought I’d save it for when you can touch me.”

There will be more? Your head was spinning at the thought. You were used to cumming once on your vibrator before going to sleep, too tired to go on by yourself. Cumming three times in a row wasn’t something you’d done in a while—if ever. If you had, you couldn’t remember.

“Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” he reminded you as his middle finger entered you.

After pumping the finger inside you for a while, he added another. He put his palm against your clit and let you grind against it while he kept thrusting his fingers into you—curling them against your g-spot, once he’d found it. While you were busy shutting your eyes tight at the stimulation, Hongjoong leaned up and captured one of your nipples in his mouth again. You gasped at the feeling—it was almost overwhelming. All of these sensations, and the promise of getting to have his cock inside you, were making you get closer and closer to the edge.

“Are you going to cum again, baby?” he coos at you, whispering in your ear, “I can feel you clenching around me.”

You let out a gasp that turned into a moan, as he started sucking on the sensitive spot right by your jaw. After managing to whimper out a confirmation, he ordered you to cum again. It was all you needed to release all over his hand. Your moans were drowned out by his lips on your again. His fingers slowed down, but he kept his hands between your legs until your movements stopped. Without another word, Hongjoong licked his fingers clean and helped you out of your restraints. As soon as you were free, you wrapped your arms around his neck. Your head lay on his chest, and Hongjoong welcomed you into his embrace.

“Are you okay to keep going, baby?” he asked softly.

You were practically buzzing with anticipation. “Please.”

When Hongjoong asked if you had a condom, your heart dropped to your stomach. You hadn’t been sleeping with anyone for a while, of course, you didn’t have condoms anywhere.

“... no,” you muttered. “I’m on the pill. Are you clean?”

“Checked it a few months ago. I’m clean,” he murmured. 

You looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Then, please, just fuck me?”

How could he say no to you? He smiled, pressing an unfittingly chaste kiss on your lips. After he moved to sit by your legs again, he quickly manhandled you onto your hands and knees. Your fuzzy brain didn’t even have time to process what he was doing before it was done.

“But I can’t touch you like this!” you whined.

“Mm… I lied.” You could hear the grin in his voice. “Cum one more time and I’ll let you touch me. Just one more.”

You wanted to whine and complain, but the proud look on his face appeared in your mind. You wanted to please him, you couldn’t deny that. So, you shut your mouth and arch your back—pressing your ass against him. You can feel that he’s pulled off his underwear now, and you ached to see him. All of him. Your mouth all but watered at the thought.

“Please, fuck me,” you said again. “Please, sir.”

He groaned at the feeling of your wet pussy rubbing up against him, and quickly guided his cock to your entrance. He goes slowly at first, letting you get used to his size. However, you grow impatient and start moving yourself further down his cock. Hongjoong gripped your hips—his warm hands feel like they belong there—and stopped you from moving.

“I’m in charge here, sweetheart,” he reminded you. “Want me to go faster? Beg.”

“Please fuck me faster, sir, I want you to fill me up.” The words come pouring out of you without stop, you become a blubbering mess as he starts shallowly fucking into you at a faster pace. “Yes! Please, more! I need more!”

You can’t think of anything except how good he’s filling you up. You’re not sure you’ve ever lost yourself in someone this way—no one has ever taken control over you like this, fucked you like this, molded you to their body like this. He’s ruined everyone else for you, you’re sure of it. His hips slam against yours, filling you up completely. You open your mouth to thank him, but only a noise of surprise and pleasure comes out. Hongjoong’s hand had come down on your ass, leaving a stinging sensation on your skin.

“Again,” you whimper.

His hand comes down on you again, and you moan. You never knew you were into pain like this—but whatever he was doing, he was not allowed to stop. Hongjoong’s hips started moving against yours again, and his hand came down on you with every other thrust. You were a drooling mess. The makeup you had put on was running down your cheeks as you babbled out an endless sentence of thank you. 

“You’re mine,” he growled. “So good, taking whatever I give you—aren’t you such a good obedient slut?”

“Yes, sir! I’m your obedient slut!” you moaned out, your hands gripping the sheets. “Please, let me cum! Please, please, please…”

“Cum for me, cum all over my cock,” he demanded.

With a choked moan, the coil in your stomach exploded into a fiery pit—burning your skin until it made you see stars. Hongjoong pulled out and came on your back, groaning as he did. You collapsed on the bed, and you felt the bed tip to one side. He had gotten some tissues from the box on your nightstand and wiped off the cum from your back. You turned around to see him throwing the tissue to the side, holding your arms out to him. His chest pressed against yours as he embraced you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. The dominant Hongjoong was gone, you could tell from his soft kiss. There was still a craving lingering in you. Although you were tired, you started grinding against his still-hard cock. He put his hand on your hip, right by your tattoo.

“Baby, you’re too tired,” he murmured.

“You said I could touch you if I came again,” you whined.

Your brain was foggy, all you needed and wanted was for him to touch you—to fuck you slowly into your mattress. He smiled at your pout, before leaning in to kiss it away. You smiled back at him, and Hongjoong strangled a laugh at the sight of you.

“Just one more?” you asked.

He groaned as you reached down to guide his cock to your entrance again. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

He started to slowly thrust into you again. Hissing at how sensitive you both were, you paused all movement as he had bottomed out in you. Hongjoong’s arms were on either side of your head, holding himself up to look at you. You reached out your finger and carefully traced the tattoos on his chest.

“You’re pretty,” you murmured.

It was dark in your room, but you swore you could see his face get red. Hongjoong didn’t respond, he only started moving slowly against you again. You let out small grunts and whimpers, your hands finding their place on his shoulders to keep yourself steady.

“You feel so good…” Hongjoong’s head fell to the crook of your neck, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to hold him there.

One of your hands found its way to his short hair, tangling your fingers into the mess. Your legs wrapped around his waist, desperate to keep him close. His body was warm, and you wanted to steal that warmth to keep it safe.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek. “So good to me…”

“Hongjoong.” You made him look at you again, his hips never stopped moving. His forehead leaned against yours as he stared deep into your eyes. “Cum inside me.”

He didn’t respond, but you knew he’d keep you to your word from the way that he kissed you. It was as if he was pouring his adoration into every move of his lips. One of his hands moved down to rub your clit, making your legs shake around him. With a grunt, he came inside you and you came soon after him. The two of you stayed in that position, chests heaving.

“You’re amazing,” you breathed out.

“I could say the same about you.” He grinned before pressing a kiss to your cheek and getting up. “I’ll get you cleaned up, stay here.”

He walked over to the door but hesitated as he realized that he didn’t know the layout of your apartment. “The bathroom’s to your left when you walk out of that door.” You giggled. 

He walked out with a sheepish smile, his ears red, and came back only a few seconds later with a warm, wet washcloth. Hongjoong wiped you off carefully as if he was wiping off porcelain. You reached your hand up to his head, trying to tame his wild hair by running your fingers through it.

“Does it look weird?” he asked without looking up at you, his focus was on your tattoo—he traced the lines of the lotus flower with his fingers.

“It’s just messy…” you hummed. “... maybe a little weird.” He looked away from your tattoo, and the two of you laughed as your eyes met. 

After cleaning you up and helping you to the bathroom, Hongjoong got you under the covers in your bed before he got in next to you. Lying together, you nestled against Hongjoong’s chest, his arms wrapped securely around you. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothed any lingering nerves, its gentle thump a comforting backdrop to the stillness of the night. He stroked your hair tenderly, his fingers moving in a slow, relaxing pattern that made your eyelids grow heavy with contentment.

“This feels nice,” you murmured, your voice thick with drowsiness.

He tightened his embrace slightly, resting his chin on top of your head. “It really does… I’m glad you invited me up.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes meeting his in the soft, dim light from the street lights and passing cars filtering through the curtains. The tenderness in his gaze made your heart swell. “Me too.”

He smiled softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “Was it okay? You’re not overwhelmed or anything?”

“I’m fine, Hongjoong,” you murmured.

“I just want to make sure—”

“I know.” You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. “It’s sweet… but I’m okay… I liked it, actually.”

“Good.” He couldn’t hide his boyish grin. “Are you sure you haven’t done it before? You were too good for—”

You slapped his chest lightly, biting back your smile at his teasing. “Stop it.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He snickered, his laughter a low, pleasant rumble against your ear. “Seriously though, you were amazing.”

“So were you.” You sighed happily, snuggling closer. The warmth of his body and the security of his arms around you made you feel incredibly safe. As you lay there, you felt a profound sense of peace, the worries of the world melting away. Hongjoon’s hand found the lotus flower design on your hip again. Moving his body ever so slightly, he looked at the inked skin under the sheets, carefully studying his work. His fingers continued to trace the intricate design of your tattoo, the gentle touch sending shivers down your spine.

“It healed well,” he commented.

“It did.” You hummed, cupping his face in your hand to make him meet your eyes. His eyebrows raised and he looked at you with big eyes, silently asking if you were okay. You nodded and he smiled, leaning up to press a kiss on your swollen lips.

“I thought the design was pretty on its own.” He pressed a kiss on your cheek. “But it’s even prettier on you.”

“Smooth-talker.” You scoffed but smiled lovingly anyway.

He leaned his forehead against yours. “I’m just telling the truth,” he said with a playful smile. Hongjoong wrapped his arms around you again while you rolled your eyes.

“Goodnight,” you whispered.

“Goodnight, baby,” he replied, his voice a gentle murmur in the darkness.

The two of you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. His hand stayed on your hip.

You woke to the gentle caress of morning light streaming through your curtains. The first thing you noticed was Hongjoong lying beside you, his presence as comforting as the warmth of the sun on your skin. His hair, a tousled mess of soft blond strands, framed his peaceful face, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He looked so serene, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, completely at ease in his slumber.

As you lay there, your heart swelled with a sense of contentment, the kind that only comes from waking up next to someone you love. Carefully, you reached out, your fingers gently threading through his bleached hair, feeling its softness against your skin. He stirred slightly at your touch, his nose twitching in response, and a soft hum escaped his lips. Instinctively, he tightened his arms around you, pulling you closer as if even in his sleep, he couldn’t bear to be apart from you.

You watched him for a moment longer, memorizing the way the morning light kissed his features, casting delicate shadows on his skin. The peaceful expression on his face, the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheeks, the gentle curve of his lips—it all filled you with a warmth that radiated from deep within, spreading through every part of you.

Careful not to wake him, you slipped out of his embrace and out of bed. After putting on clothes, you padded to the kitchen to start breakfast. The sounds and smells of cooking soon filled the apartment, and just as you were finishing up, you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist.

"Good morning," Hongjoong mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.

You turned your head to look at him, his hair even more disheveled now. "Good morning. I hope you like your eggs scrambled."

He grinned, planting a kiss on your cheek. "I love them. Especially if you're the one making them."

The two of you moved around the kitchen in a cozy, intimate dance, making breakfast together. There was a comforting rhythm to it, an easy familiarity that made you feel like you’d been doing this for years. You chatted about small things, laughed at silly jokes, and stole kisses in between setting the table and making coffee.

Once everything was ready, you sat down to eat. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you felt a deep sense of contentment. After breakfast, Hongjoong insisted on helping you clean up, and soon it was time to get ready for work. As you gathered your things, he offered to drop you off, and you happily agreed.

When you arrived at the café, you saw Seonghwa already seated at a table near the window. He ate breakfast at the café from time to time, mostly when he missed you or when he didn’t have the energy to make breakfast at home. He glanced up and saw you through the big windows as you walked up to the café, a curious look in his eyes. 

Hongjoong walked you to the door, his hand lingering on the small of your back. "Have a good day at work," he said softly, leaning in for a quick kiss.

You blushed, aware of the eyes on you. "You too. Thanks for breakfast and everything."

As you stepped inside, Seonghwa immediately waved you over. "Hey, you look... different today. Did something happen?"

You shrugged, trying to keep your expression neutral but unable to hide the small smile playing on your lips. "Just had a good morning, that’s all."

Your coworker joined in, smirking. "Uh-huh, sure. And was that Hongjoong who just dropped you off?"

You felt your cheeks heat up again. "Maybe..."

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. "What did he do to make you glow like that this early in the morning, huh?"

You laughed, shaking your head. "... he may have spent the night after we saw the gig that his friends were playing. But I’m not saying anything else. You would’ve known if you had been there!"

“I was busy with work,” he whined. “You have to tell me!”

“I don’t remember putting that in our contract,” you joked. “Now, leave me alone! I have a shift to get to!”

With that, you slipped behind the counter, ready to start your shift. Despite the teasing and the curious glances, you couldn’t help but feel light and happy. The memory of the morning with Hongjoong stayed with you, a warm, comforting presence that made the day feel just a little bit brighter.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Over the next few weeks, you saw Hongjoong regularly. Your connection deepened with each meeting, but despite the growing intimacy between you, he never initiated anything sexual. It was both endearing and frustrating. You appreciated his respect for your boundaries, but it also made you shy and hesitant to make the first move.

One afternoon, while you were tidying up at the café, your phone buzzed with a message from Hongjoong.

Hey, can you stop by the shop after work? I have something I want to show you.

Your heart skipped a beat as you read the message. You quickly typed back, Sure! I get off at 5. See you then!

The rest of your shift passed in a blur of anticipation. As soon as the clock struck five, you grabbed your things and headed to his studio. The familiar walk seemed shorter than usual, your excitement propelling you forward.

When you arrived, the shop was quiet, a stark contrast to its usual buzz of activity. You stepped inside, greeted by the faint hum of a tattoo machine and the scent of ink and antiseptic. Hongjoong looked out from his tattoo room and smiled, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

"Hey," he greeted, finishing up the last touches on his current project. "Just give me a minute, and I’ll be right with you."

You nodded, taking a seat and watching him work. His focus and skill never ceased to amaze you. There was something mesmerizing about the way he moved, his hands steady and precise.

After a few minutes, he finished and cleaned up, then came over to you. "Thanks for waiting. I’m really glad you could come by."

"No problem," you replied, your curiosity piqued. "So, what did you want to show me?"

Hongjoong grinned, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Follow me."

He led you to a back room you hadn’t seen before. Inside was a collection of his artwork, framed and displayed on the walls. Sketches, paintings, and tattoo designs filled the space, each piece a testament to his talent and creativity.

"Wow, Hongjoong," you breathed, taking it all in. "This is incredible. I knew you worked a lot but, this…"

He scratched the back of his head, looking a bit sheepish. "Yeah, it’s kind of my personal gallery. I wanted to share it with you."

You turned to him, touched by the gesture. "Your work is amazing."

He stepped closer, his expression softening. "I wanted you to see this because... well, you’re important to me. And I want you to know me better, all sides of me."

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached out, taking his hand. "Thank you for showing me this."

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes locked onto yours. The moment stretched, filled with unspoken feelings and mutual understanding. You felt the urge to close the distance between you, but still, the hesitation lingered.

Sensing your uncertainty, Hongjoong smiled and pulled you into a warm embrace. You lost yourself in the domesticity of the moment, feeling content in his arms. "How was your day?" he murmured.

"Good," you replied, smiling up at him. "How about you?"

"Busy, but good," he said, pulling away from him. "Listen, I was wondering if you’re free for dinner tonight. I’d like to cook for you, as a thank you for the breakfast from a few weeks ago."

Your heart skipped a beat. The idea of Hongjoong cooking for you in an intimate setting set loose the butterflies in your stomach. "I’d love that."

He grinned. "Great! Let me just lock up, and we’ll head over to my place."

As he closed up the shop, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of anticipation. You assumed that inviting you over for dinner meant he might finally make a move, and the thought both thrilled and made you slightly nervous.

The ride to his apartment was a little longer than it had been to your place, and you started to understand why he had bought a motorbike instead of a car. While the cars were stuck slowly rolling forward during rush hour, Hongjoong easily passed them in between the lanes. When you arrived, he led you inside, and you took a moment to take in your surroundings. His place was cozy and stylish, with a mix of modern and vintage decor that reflected his artistic nature—most of it in black.

"Make yourself at home," he said, gesturing to the living room. "I’ll get started on dinner."

You settled onto the couch, watching him move around the kitchen with practiced ease. The aroma of garlic and herbs soon filled the air, and you felt that warm sense of domestic bliss wash over you yet again.

"Can I help with anything?" you offered, not wanting to just sit idly by.

He shook his head, smiling. "Nope, I’ve got it covered. Just relax and enjoy."

You chatted as he cooked, the conversation flowing effortlessly. It felt so natural, so right, to be there with him. Before long, he called you to the table, which he had set beautifully with candles and your favorite flowers.

"Dinner is served," he said with a flourish, placing a delicious-looking pasta dish in front of you.

You laughed, feeling a bit like you were in a romantic movie. "This looks amazing. Thank you, Hongjoong."

He walked back to the kitchen with a pleased smile on his face. "I’m glad you like it."

Hongjoong came back with a bottle of wine and two glasses. You watched him with heart eyes as he opened the bottle, practically drooling over how his hands looked—and either he just didn’t notice, or he decided to ignore it, but he didn’t comment on your staring. He sat down in front of you and poured you a glass.

“You always call me ‘Hongjoong,’” he said.

“Hm?” You looked up at him from your glass of wine. “It’s your name.”

“I know, I know…” For the first time since you’d met him, he was getting shy. “I think it’d be nice if you started… I don’t know, forget about it.”

“What? Do you like pet names?” you asked with a hint of amusement in your voice. When you saw him nodding, your heart all but soared. You hadn’t expected someone like him to like cute, couple nicknames—maybe you should’ve guessed it from the number of times he called you sweetheart, baby, or love. “Like ‘baby?’ ‘Sweetie?’ ‘Pumpkin?’ ‘Sugar-cube?’”

“Now you’re just teasing me.” He groaned, but let out a laugh soon after. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” you admit with a giggle and start eating. “Could you pass me the salt, baby?”

Hongjoong’s grin grew wider, just at the cusp of letting out an adorable giggle, and he handed you the salt.

As you ate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight was special. The food was delicious, the atmosphere perfect, and the company even better. Every now and then, your eyes would meet, and the unspoken connection between you seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment. Despite the pleasant ambiance, restlessness gnawed at you, making it difficult to focus on the meal. You twirled your fork absentmindedly, dropping subtle hints and playful comments, hoping Hongjoong would pick up on your mood.

He looked up from his plate, eyebrow quirked in amusement. "What's gotten into you tonight?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity and a hint of teasing.

You chuckled nervously, trying to brush off his question. "Oh, nothing," you replied, avoiding his gaze as you took a sip of water.

Hongjoong leaned closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes—as if he was ready to get you back for teasing him before. "Come on," he urged, reaching across the table to gently touch your hand. "Tell me what you're up to. You're acting strange."

Your heart skipped a beat at his touch, and you struggled to maintain composure. Looking into his eyes, you found it hard to resist his playful charm. "Okay, fine," you finally admitted, your voice quieter than intended. "I've just been thinking... about us."

A flicker of concern crossed Hongjoong's face, and he squeezed your hand gently. "About us?" he prompted softly.

You nodded, feeling the weight of your confession. "Yeah," you began slowly, choosing your words carefully. "I miss... I miss how it felt when you touched me."

Hongjoong's expression softened, and he pulled his hand back, his thumb absently tracing circles on the tablecloth. "I miss that too," he admitted quietly, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of longing and affection.

The honesty in his voice made your heart swell with warmth. "I didn't realize how much until tonight," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I've been trying to ignore it, but... I can't."

There was a moment of silence between you, filled only with the soft hum of traffic outside. Hongjoong broke the quiet, his voice low and sincere. "I'm glad you told me," he said softly, reaching across the table again to take your hand in his. "Because I've been feeling the same way… I just didn’t want you to feel pressured into doing anything."

“I want you,” you admitted in a small voice. 

After your quiet admission, Hongjoong's eyes softened, his grip on your hand tightening slightly in reassurance. He leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been wanting to hear you say that for so long," he confessed, his eyes searching for any hesitation.

After your quiet admission, a warm flush spread through you as Hongjoong’s gaze deepened with a mixture of affection and desire. His hand squeezed yours one last time before he let go, leaning back in his chair with a soft, contemplative smile. You were left stunned—how much more clear did you have to be for him to touch you again?

However, as the meal continued, the air between you was charged with a newfound intensity. You could barely focus on the food, each glance exchanged with Hongjoong sending a shiver down your spine. The unspoken tension only grew as the minutes passed, and it became clear that the two of you were in sync, your thoughts mirroring each other’s.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Hongjoong put down his fork and began gathering the dishes. "I’ll take care of this," he said, his tone casual but his eyes betraying a smoldering undercurrent of emotion. He rose from the table, heading toward the kitchen with a stack of plates balanced effortlessly in his hands.

You watched him go, your heart pounding in your chest. Restlessness gnawed at you once more, and before you could overthink it, you found yourself rising from your seat, following him into the kitchen.

As you stepped through the doorway, you found Hongjoong standing at the sink, rinsing the dishes with deliberate care. The sound of running water filled the space, but it did little to drown out the thudding of your heart. You approached him quietly, the warmth of the dimly lit kitchen wrapping around you like a comforting embrace.

Without a word, you slipped your arms around his waist from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. He froze for a moment, the dish in his hand forgotten as he registered your touch. Slowly, he turned off the faucet and set the dish aside, his body relaxing into your embrace.

"Couldn't stay away, huh?" he teased gently, his voice laced with affection as he turned to face you, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You looked up at him, your arms still wrapped around his waist and shook your head. "Not for long," you admitted, a small smile playing on your lips.

Hongjoong’s eyes darkened with an intensity that made your breath hitch. He cupped your face in his hands, his touch firm yet tender. "You know, you’ve been driving me crazy all night," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Before you could respond, he dipped his head, capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was a kiss that held all the unspoken longing, the unexpressed emotions that had been building between you throughout the evening. Your hands slid up his back, fingers tangling in his hair as you melted into him, the world around you fading away until there was nothing but the two of you.

Hongjoong deepened the kiss, his hands traveling from your face to your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush against each other. The heat between you was palpable, the kiss growing more urgent with every passing second.

Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer. The cool surface of the counter was a stark contrast to the heat coursing through your veins, but it only heightened your awareness of every touch, every sensation.

Hongjoong’s hands roamed your body with a gentle urgency, one hand sliding up your back while the other cradled your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss even further. His lips were relentless, moving from your mouth to your jaw, down to the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. You gasped softly, your fingers gripping his shirt as you arched into him, lost in the sensation of his lips against your skin.

"God, I’ve wanted this," he murmured against your neck, his voice rough with desire as he continued to press kisses along your collarbone. "You have no idea."

You pulled his face back up to yours, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. The tension that had been building between you all evening finally found its release, each kiss, each touch igniting a fire that burned hotter with every second.

Hongjoong’s hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine as he explored your skin with a tenderness that only fueled your desire. Your breath came in shallow gasps as you clung to him, your senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

But then, just as the kiss had deepened, Hongjoong suddenly slowed, his lips lingering on yours with a gentler, almost reverent touch. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his forehead resting against yours. The air between you was thick, both of you breathing heavily as you took in the weight of what was happening.

His thumb gently caressed your cheek, his eyes searching yours with a mix of longing and tenderness. "I don’t want to rush this," he murmured softly. "I want it to be perfect."

You smiled softly, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. "Me too," you whispered back, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. There was a pause, a shared moment of understanding, where the intensity of the moment gave way to something deeper, something more meaningful.

Hongjoong’s lips curved into a gentle smile as he kissed your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. "How about we go somewhere more private?" he suggested, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand, the simple touch grounding you both in the gravity of the moment.

You nodded, feeling a sense of relief and excitement wash over you. "Okay," you agreed quietly, your heart pounding with a mix of nervousness and eagerness. The urgency was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but now it was tempered with the knowledge that this moment was about more than just passion—it was about connection.

You walked in comfortable silence, the weight of your shared confession hanging in the air like a promise. Reaching his bedroom, he opened the door for you, and you stepped inside, the familiar surroundings feeling suddenly new and charged with possibility. Hongjoong closed the door behind you, and you turned to face him, your eyes meeting his with a mix of uncertainty and desire.

He took a step closer, his hands gently cupping your face. "I want to make sure this is what you really want," he said softly, his gaze intense and sincere.

You nodded, your hands resting on his chest. "I've never been more sure," you replied, a teasing smile spreading on your lips. “Take me however you want, sir.”

With a newfound hunger, Hongjoong leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. It felt like he was pouring his energy into you, every touch feeling like an electric spark.

Hongjoong pulled back from the kiss, his breath warm against your lips. He searched your eyes, his expression earnest and caring. "Are you sure you’re okay with going further?" he asked softly, his voice filled with a mix of desire and concern.

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, the anticipation building inside you. You nodded your voice barely a whisper. "Yes, I trust you."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. "Good," he murmured, his hands sliding down your arms to your waist, pulling you closer. "I promise I'll take care of you."

His lips captured yours again, this time with more urgency, his hands exploring your body. You melted into his embrace, the world outside disappearing as you focused entirely on the sensations he was awakening within you.

He gently pushed you onto the bed, his eyes dark with desire as he stood over you. "I want you to let go, to feel everything," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Can you do that for me?"

You nodded, your pulse quickening at the authority in his tone. "Yes," you breathed, your body aching for his touch.

Hongjoong's smile deepened, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Good girl," he whispered, his words sending a jolt through you. He took his time undressing you, his hands and mouth leaving a trail of heat in their wake. Every touch, every kiss was deliberate, heightening your anticipation.

It was only when you stood completely naked in front of him that he allowed himself to let go of you. He looked you up and down, and you felt the sudden urge to cover yourself—but when your hands reached up to cover your chest, he immediately took your wrists to keep them away.

“I told you before,” he murmured, “you’re beautiful. Don’t hide from me.”

You let out a shaky breath. “What are you going to do with me?”

“You’ll find out.”

He left your side and walked over to one of the closets. Inside the closet were no clothes. The drawers were filled with different toys—some things that you had never seen before—from dildos to restraints. Your jaw practically fell to the floor, and you could hear Hongjoong try to stifle a laugh.

“Do you still want to go further?” he asked, although it was clear that he knew he didn’t have to.

You could only nod, your eyes wide with suspense. 

“Sweetheart,” he warned.

“Yes.”

At one single word, you ended up on the bed with a blindfold on and your hands tied up behind you. Your knees were resting on the unsteady, plush mattress, and you were trying your hardest to stay upright. Despite not being able to see him, you knew that Hongjoong was still dressed—and it made your skin burn.

"You're doing so well," he murmured against your ear, his voice laced with both command and praise. The words sent shivers down your spine. 

Something soft, barely noticeable, tickled your chest. You heard Hongjoong laugh as you tried to squirm away. “Remember, baby, you can’t fall over. You promised me you wouldn’t. Liars get punished, you know?”

Gritting your teeth, you unsuccessfully tried to suppress another whine. You buried your knees into the mattress while Hongjoong kept teasing you, with what you could only assume was some sort of feather. The feather’s touch went from your clavicle to your chest, down your stomach, and to your spread thighs. 

Just as you started getting used to the feather’s touch, it disappeared from your skin. The bed tipped to your right, and you had to use every fiber in your being to not fall over. Hongjoong’s chest pressed against your shoulder, you could feel the soft fabric of his shirt. The urge to wrap your arms around his strong shoulders was irresistible. But no matter how much you pulled on the fuzzy handcuffs, they wouldn’t budge.

“I have a surprise for you,” he whispered in your ear.

“What is it?” you murmured.

“Patience…”

He moved around, and you could feel him right in front of you now. Pressing a few soft kisses to your clavicle, Hongjoong took his time loving you. The sweet kisses turned hungry when he began sucking and grazing his teeth against your skin. You soughed, leaning your head back and to the side to allow him more access. His lips disappeared and the bed dipped slightly to the side. Hongjoong had reached for something that he had put beside the bed earlier, and you were eagerly awaiting your surprise.

A burning sensation, like stepping under the shower before the water has heated up fully, pressed against your chest—the small point encapsulated by Hongjoong’s pillowy lips. A gasp escaped your lips, and you struggled against the restraints by mere intuition. Despite telling you to keep yourself upright, Hongjoong put his hands on your back to keep you still. The ice cube in his mouth ran over your warm skin, and he hummed as you let out a shaky moan.

“Baby, please.” You squirmed.

Hongjoong replied by humming again, but the ice cube stopped gliding over your skin. One of his hands fell on your jaw, guiding you to his lips. The piece of ice, now barely a slither, melted between your tongues as you kissed—a sense of euphoria that you never thought you’d experience.

Hongjoong pulled away, and your lips tried to chase him but he was no longer in front of you. Before you could register that he had climbed off the bed, you had fallen against the soft mattress—your ass up in the air, and your hands struggling on your back. You heard Hongjoong tsk beside you, and a harsh slap landed on your ass. His warm palm rubbed soothing circles over the stinging skin, but the message was clear; you had messed up.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” Your apologies fell on deaf ears as another slap hit your still-sensitive skin.

Hongjoong’s other hand went to your back, holding you in place. “Count ‘em.”

Another slap rang through your ears, and you couldn’t help but moan at the sensation. “Sir, I’m sorry–”

“I said.” Hongjoong’s fingers threaded through your hair, bending your head up until you could feel him breathing by your ear. “Count them.” His hand left your hair and went back to rubbing the burning skin of your ass. 

After managing to count to ten, Hongjoong’s fingers went from stroking your ass to rubbing your aching pussy. A soft mewl left your lips and you couldn’t help but to wriggle your hips. Your brain was fried at this point, and Hongjoong could tell. His hand disappeared from where you needed it most, although you had no time to complain about it. The handcuffs came undone, and your arms fell to your sides. He flipped you on your back, your aching thighs resting heavenly against the soft, cool sheets. Hongjoong got on top of you, pressing a few uncharacteristically soft kisses on your jaw and neck.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he murmured, barely audibly.

You could only nod your head as you wrapped your arms around his neck. After you pressed a kiss on his temple, Hongjoong pulled back with a lovesick grin. His face was flushed, his pupils dilated, and his hair a mess. He looked angelic.

“You can keep going,” you muttered. “I can take it.”

“Oh yeah?”

You used the little strength you had left to lean up and kiss his plump lips—soft and chaste, your lips just barely touching before you laid back down. “Yeah.”

His lips attached to your neck again with a new sense of passion and intensity. You let your eyes fall close as a hum bubbled up your throat, your hands spreading out on his back to keep him close. You gripped the fabric of his shirt tightly, trying to pull it up.

“Off,” was all you managed to get out. Despite wanting to keep teasing you, Hongjoong didn’t have the strength to do so. His shirt went over his head and flew somewhere else in the room, just like your clothes had earlier. His pants followed shortly after, and soon enough you finally got to feel his naked flesh against yours. 

Hongjoong’s hips were moving agonizingly slow against yours, but you had no voice to complain about it with—his lips wouldn’t leave yours. When your hand tried to go down your body to rub your clit, his hand was quick to pin your wrist to the bed.

“Let me take my time,” he murmured against your lips.

“You’ve been teasing me for so long,” you muttered back.

“You want control, baby?” he asked mockingly. Before you could say anything else, you found yourself on top of him. “Ride me. Take control.”

As soon as you tried to move your hips up, you realized just how tired your thighs were. A broken whine escaped your lips as you tried your best to set a pace. Hongjoong’s hands landed on your hips. He must’ve taken pity on you, as his hands started guiding you to follow a steady pace.

“That’s it, baby,” he hummed. “You’re doing so good.”

Your mouth fell open as you managed to pick up the pace—your climax quickly approaching. Hongjoong’s hips started to move to match your pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin mixed with your moans growing in volume. Endless praise echoed from his lips, but they just barely met your ears. Only when he told you to cum could you really hear him.

When your climax finally hit, it was like a tidal wave, powerful and unstoppable, crashing over you and stealing the breath from your lungs. You cried out, your body arching as the sensation consumed you. Hongjoong help you through it, his arms a secure anchor in the storm of your release. His own climax followed, his body shuddering against yours, and in that moment, everything else faded away, leaving only the two of you intertwined in a pure, unfiltered intimacy that left you both breathless and sated.

-

You and Hongjoong lay entwined in bed, your breaths mingling in the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp. The tender patterns his fingers traced on your skin whispered promises of comfort, a soothing contrast to the fiery intensity you shared just moments before. The warmth of his body against yours wrapped you in a cocoon of safety, easing the lingering heat of your passion, yet beneath his gentle caresses, a flicker of concern danced in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice barely a breath above the silence. "I didn't... go too far, did I?"

Turning to face him, you cupped his cheek, your hand cradling his face with a tender intimacy. His eyes searched yours, seeking any sign of unease or regret. "I'm more than okay," you whispered with a soft smile, your thumb brushing lightly over his cheekbone.

Hongjoong exhaled, releasing a breath he'd unknowingly held, his gaze softening, though the shadow of worry still lingered. "I just... I worry a lot," he admitted, a sheepish chuckle escaping his lips.

You shook your head gently, brushing your thumb across his lips, feeling the warmth of his breath, the softness of his touch. "I know, my love," you murmured. "I want you to feel just as safe and cherished with me."

His eyes closed briefly under your touch, relief washing over him in waves. When he opened them again, there was a new light, a quiet resolve in his gaze. "I do feel safe with you," he confessed, his voice steadier now, carrying the weight of sincerity.

Your smile deepened, warmth spreading through you. "Good," you replied, intertwining your fingers with his, feeling the steady rhythm of his pulse, a comforting reminder of your connection.

The air between you grew lighter, the weight of unspoken fears dissolving with each shared word. There was a clarity, a deep understanding that bound you both in that moment. Hongjoong took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours with a look of profound connection.

"I... I love you," he murmured, the words tinged with both hesitation and certainty, hanging in the air like a fragile confession.

Your heart skipped a beat, overwhelmed by the depth of his emotions. "I love you too," you replied softly, your voice a tender echo of his confession.

Hongjoong’s arms tightened around you, his body molding to yours as though it had always been meant to be this way. You felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest, each breath syncing perfectly with yours, creating a harmonious symphony of togetherness. His hand stroked your back in slow, soothing circles, sending ripples of warmth through your soul.

The room was bathed in a soft, golden light, the bedside lamp casting delicate shadows that danced across the walls. The world outside faded into oblivion, leaving only the two of you in this intimate sanctuary. Hongjoong’s breath brushed against your forehead, his lips pressing a tender kiss there, sealing the moment with gentle affection. His fingers found yours, interlacing them with a loving squeeze. As you gazed into his eyes, you found them brimming with a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. Without breaking the gaze, he brought your knuckles to his lips. In that moment, clarity washed over you both—this was where you belonged.

feedback is always welcomed!

taglist:

@d0nghyuck, @fantasy2wonderland, @niktwazny303, @wonwoospartyhat, @stariightjoyy,

@hyneyedfiz, @crazywittysassy, @yeosayang, @notevenheretbh1

[endursent]

WHAT IF astral express sunday would be too nervous to hold readers hand or hugging them bc his brain goes 💥 until he gets used to it and softens up to reader waa 🎉🎉

HES SO SILLY i want him to explode

【 content; sunday x reader , astral express sunday , fluff , character exploration, mild suggestiveness in one section , gn!reader 】

【 note; see sunday mention. NEURON ACTIVATED. i have neglected sunday writing for too long, it's time to sunday post more. 】

【 word count; 1.818 | read on ao3 | masterlist 】

Even after properly defining your relationship as “definitely happening”, Sunday still struggles to adjust to it—not because he doesn’t know what to do specifically, but because he fails to follow through with a lot of it. 

  As soon as he meets your eyes and feels the warmth of your skin at the same time, his brain halts in place like a deer caught in headlights—something about the affection and love in your gaze causes him to freeze, to hesitate and draw back. 

  He wants to enjoy that warmth, he wants to touch your cheek and gaze into your eyes for hours on end, examining every detail of your iris until he has it mapped better than the back of his own hand… but his heart tightens and his arms tingle when he tries. 

  He’s afraid, scared to overstep thresholds whose doors have long since opened wide for his presence. Afraid to take a wrong turn in the endless hallways of his thoughts and what-ifs.

  You don’t push him, you give him time to consider his movement and actions and proceed in the ways he feels comfortable—but you don’t let him pull back too far either. You grasp his hand as it pulls too close to his chest and he swallows when you bring it to yours, you press his palm against your chest and allow him to feel your heartbeat—quickened, excited, yet nervous as well. Sometimes, you’re also nervous. It’s okay to hesitate. 

  Mere moments like brushing his fingers against yours on accident are enough for his head-wings to shoot up into the air. You had simply been reaching for a pistachio in a bowl on a table where you sat with Sunday next to you, and he had coincidentally reached out as well. “A-ah, my apologies,” he pulls his hand back, wings lowering again as one moves halfway up his cheek in a meagre attempt to disguise the dusty red of his cheeks. 

  A small smile tugs on your lips and you take an additional nut to give to him. “It’s okay, here.” He holds his palm open for you to place the pistachio in, but instead of doing so, you peel the shell away with a click and hold it towards his lips. “Open up.”

  Five or so muscles in his face twitch as he leans back, surprised by your sudden approach and the very intimate gesture of trying to feed him—his eyes flicker to the left where Himeko is positively destroying March 7th in a card game, they’re not paying any attention to the two of you at all. 

  Sunday’s lips press together and for a moment you wonder if you might have pushed him a little too far, the red hue of his cheeks deepening as he avoids your eyes… and opens his mouth, just a little—barely enough to fit the small pistachio there.

  Your fingers touch his lips as you manage to set the pistachio on the tip of his tongue hiding only a little behind the bottom row of his teeth, and Sunday thinks he might explode. The way his upper lip lifted a little and a small drop of drool slid under his tongue—thankfully out of sight but definitely not out of mind—when your finger pushed under it to set the nut in his mouth…

  He swallows the pistachio quickly and nervously without chewing it and it almost stops in his throat before he could even realise what he was doing. Sunday might have just perished from embarrassment before the lack of oxygen would kill him were the pistachio to stop in his throat.

  Sunday hasn’t stepped off the Express in a while, he does so rather often, all things considered—usually choosing to at least peek out at the worlds you explore. After all, how can he find himself if he doesn’t look? 

  But he has never experienced a planet like this… you could convince him this is some intergalactically funded horror exhibition if you tried. Long stretches of trees and branches reach into the skies, casting dark shadows on the dull grass that covers the ground as far as one can see. The skies are dark when you hop off the train and practically drag Sunday along.

  He walks close to you, unsure if to reassure himself of your presence among the shadows, or to be ready to give his assistance were you to catch your foot on a root and crash on the ground—you’re walking so fast he can't help but think it’s just a matter of time.

  You feel something touch your thumb and look down, only to see Sunday’s gloved hand retreat. He’s looking ahead and pretending there is nothing strange happening. “Are you scared?” you wonder, tilting your head to get a better look at his face.

  A small frown tugs at his lips, so faint you could barely see it. “Of course not, but I am concerned about us getting lost—do you know where we’re going?” 

  “Kind of,” you sway your hand a little, seeing if you can fish at where he has retracted his to. “Pom-Pom mentioned there a huge city not far from where we dropped down, this world has some real good puddings if I read right.”

  Sunday merely hums in response, following you along. You did finally find the city—high buildings made of darkened wood, but with bright lanterns and strings of lights hanging between buildings to illuminate the streets in a comfortable orange. All the ambiance needs is rain (and for you two be inside a nice café) and it’s perfect.

  The streets, however, are a labyrinth. 

  You get lost only seven minutes after reaching the city, and no matter how you squinted at your phone, you couldn’t wrap your head around the map—and it doesn’t help that despite the darkness, it’s midday, and thus the streets and crowded near shoulder-to-shoulder. This place must be popular despite the gloomy atmosphere. 

  Having almost lost sight of you wandering around trying to get your bearings in the crowd, Sunday gathers his courage and stomps down his thoughts—and takes your hand. 

  You stop where you’re going and turn to look at him. “Hm? Is something wrong?”

  He still avoids your eyes, but his grip is firm. “You’re… still going in the wrong direction.”

  “I am?” you look back down to your phone and tilt it sideways. “Ah! Like this, I get it now… I think.”

  Sunday sighs, stepping closer to you as a person shoulder past your positions—and suddenly the two of you are standing far closer than planned, nearly pressed against the wall of a building that leads to the corner of the street. He can’t stop thinking about your hand against his gloved one, and he also can’t help but notice that your fingers feel cold.

  As you try to figure out the best path towards the mythical pudding, holding your phone out for Sunday to see as well, his fingers and palm engulf yours and try to move some of his heat to you. His thumb rubs over your palm as you speak and the lack of proper reaction from you, yet still laying your hand out to him, helps him find the gesture more natural and comfortable… something he wouldn’t mind indulging in more often. 

  Sunday is a very passive person when it comes to affections, he’s rarely the one to reach out first and needs a bit of a push to even come up with romantic gestures. He considers the time you spend together and the understanding between you to be much more precious and indicative of his affections.

  However, he gets an idea one time from something he saw when scrolling his phone… to leave notes around. Sunday wasn’t sure of it at first—and a little embarrassed that someone else might find them before you do—but gradually began to find it as an easy way to show his attention. 

  Sometimes, the notes have a small message on them (mostly reminding you to sleep more) but other times, there’s no message at all. He came to use it as a ‘I thought of you’ message, where he leaves a blank, small post-it on something. 

  One time you forgot to buy new toothpaste on the Express’ most recent stop and dreaded having to borrow from someone again—until you opened the drawer to fetch your toothbrush and saw a full tube with a small blue post-it on it… now you need to go over to his room and rub his cheeks and thank him for remembering your complaints about always forgetting to buy a new one. 

  Sunday is a surprisingly good caretaker, you caught some sort of cold or flu on a recent trip off the express and have been miserable in bed for days. Up and down, hot and cold, snot-filled and gross on all ends. But he sits down by your bedside and takes your temperature, lays the back of his hand against your heated skin and does all he can to help. 

  One aspect he struggled with was when you got whiny one evening and reached out for a hug…

  While you might mistake his hesitation for disgust, as you are snot-nosed, puffy eyed and half crying from misery—it’s far from what was on his mind. But Sunday feels his chest tighten at the sight of you so miserable, temporary as it is, and he doesn’t have the heart to refuse your embrace. 

  He leans down and lets you wrap your arms around his shoulders, your clammy forehead rubbing into his shirt as he stiffly pats your head and tries to soothe you. “It’s alright… your fever is going down, you’ll be okay soon, just remember to drink the water on the nightstand, okay?” he mumbles by your ear, and the more you nod and thank him for taking care of you, the more his muscles ease and he shifts a bit to lay down with you, allowing you to burrow into the crook of his neck and find comfort in his presence. 

  Sunday rests his chin over your head and rubs your back. “Would you like me to sing for you?”

  You nod into his shoulder and he closes his mouth to hum familiar tunes, the beginning of a familiar song as the vibrations in his chest rumble against you. His voice is soothing, and his singing is surprisingly soft and gentle. 

  As you drift to well-needed sleep, Sunday stays with you until he’s certain you’ve fallen asleep… and then for a while more, just long enough that he can’t imagine tearing himself away from you—or risking waking you up by rising from the bed. Perhaps it’s alright if he stays the night here, after all, he needs to make sure you hydrate through the night.

[pearlispunk]

Never took you for a pervert, Miller.

pairing: dbf! joel miller x female reader summary: you borrow a jacket from joel, and it returns to him with a stain. he goes crazy over your scent, and he wants more. warnings / contents: 18+ (minors please dni!), big unspecified (but legal!) age gap, brief mentions of alcohol, smut, f masturbation, dbf! joel, perv! joel, dom! joel, spanking, choking, dd/lg dynamic (kinda), daddy kink, praise kink, light dacryphilia, pet names, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it please!), creampie, no outbreak, no sarah word count: 4k a/n: i recommend listening to every girl gets her wish by saint avengeline while reading this! it really sets up the whole vibe >< enjoy °༄ !

It all started with that damn jacket. 

“It’s so cold, Joel. Please.” You whined, skin shuddering from the breeze. “Told you to bring a coat or somethin’, y’never listen.” He huffs, shedding off the outermost layer of his clothes. He holds it over you, eyebrows raised combined with pursed lips. 

You smile at him, quickly grabbing hold of the jacket and putting it on. You waste no time, zipping up the front of the jacket and tugging the ends of it to try and fit your body. It felt huge wrapped around you– it extended past your torso, and you had to tug the sleeves up just to use your hands. 

You looked so cute like this, he thinks for a moment, staring at you blankly. His eyes raked over you, eyeing you from head to toe. “Anyone ever tell you it’s bad manners if you stare?” Your voice chimes in like a chirp of a bird, and he’s back to reality. 

He shakes his head, walking past you, “Shut up.” He mutters. And you smile. 

You were fully aware of what effect you had on him. Ever since moving across his house a few months back, you’ve made it your life’s mission to make him fuck you. 

It didn’t take long for him and your dad to form a friendship over football and beer. However, ever since meeting Joel, he was always just this stuck-up, grumpy– presumably lonely– middle-aged man to you. You were just determined to help him, what’s wrong with that? Every time your dad invited him over for dinners or outings, you made sure you wore something that caught his eye. 

Even if that means wearing something skimpy during a cold weather. 

“I’ll wash this up for you and bring it back tomorrow morning, promise!” You say, looking at him with a glint of mischief in your eyes. He nods, shaking his hand in the air, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.” 

Is it wrong that he turns you on?

Is it wrong that you’re thinking about getting stuffed full of his dick? Of his cum? 

“Come on, girl.” He calls out to you, and you follow. 

For the evening, your dad had invited him to an outing. A fancy word your dad uses for just ordering take-out and eating it in the truck by the woods. They talked for a while, with pauses and laughs in between. 

“.. Anyway, I have to drive back to our old place tomorrow.” Your dad says, biting down on his food. You nod before tilting your head, “Why?” He finishes his food before wrapping the packaging and throwing it in a piece of plastic, “Forgot some of my boxes, kid.” He shrugs casually then turns to Joel, “Keep an eye on her, would ‘ya?”

When you get back home, you rush up to your room. You sigh in relief, welcoming the warm air while taking off his jacket. You lay down on your bed, holding the jacket close to you and taking a deep breath of his scent. It was so distinct, so unique, so.. him. Your fingers trace over the fabric, a mental image of him appearing in your head. Your breath hitches in your throat, and your other hand hooks your panties down. 

You take a pillow, placing the jacket above it. You straddle over it, forcing the pillow between your thighs. You lean down, burying your face in the jacket as you start grinding on it. Your pussy rubs over the cloth of his jacket, and you can’t help but whimper at just the thought of that. 

You were like a woman possessed, chasing your own high as you kept his jacket close. It didn’t take long– his scent drives you mad, almost crazy, and just a few moments later, you let yourself unravel.  Sweaty and tired, you collapsed on top of the jacket, coating it with your sweat and essence.

You woke up in a panic, your dad’s knocking alarming you. You sit up straight, tossing the jacket to the side and yanking your blanket over your legs. “Yeah, dad?” You clear your own throat, stretching out your limbs. “Joel’s here, and I’m going.” He says from the outside of the door. “Alright, drive safe!” You call out. 

You make out the thuds of his boots down the stairs. You then eventually hear the engine of his car. You look out your window, waving your hand as your dad honks the car before driving off completely. 

You get up, picking a pair of shorts from your drawer and putting them on. You grab the jacket from the side of your room, sighing to yourself before stepping out. You walk downstairs to the smell of a fresh coffee pot and some pancakes. 

“Figured you could eat somethin’.” Joel’s voice grounds you, his back facing you as he finishes cooking the last pancake. “Coffee’s there, if ‘ya want.” He points towards his right, the tone of his back muscles visible through his shirt. You nod, setting the jacket on one of the table chairs. You help yourself to a cup of coffee, taking a sip before sitting by the table. He turns around to face you before slipping the plate of pancakes in front of you. 

“I have to head out to the hardware store, d’ya wanna come?” He asks, sitting on the chair across from you. You nod, taking a fork and getting a bite out of one of the pancakes, “Mhm. Should let me change though.” Your voice is muffled, you haven’t finished the bite. “Now, sweetheart, I believe it’s bad manners to talk with your mouth full.” He grins at you, a smug look spreading across his face.

You roll your eyes, swallowing it before locking eyes with him. “Let me shower and change, Miller.” He chuckles, nodding as he takes a bite of a pancake. You finish your cup of coffee along with the pancake with a satisfied hum before standing up. 

Oh! You almost forgot his jacket. 

You reach over to the hunched cloth on the chair, grabbing it and sliding it in front of him. You’re off to the shower now, your footsteps echoing throughout the hallway.

He swears you’re trying to fuck him over. 

After your little banter, you slip him his jacket and you’re off on your feet. He shakes his head with a smile before his eyes glaze over his jacket.

Just as he was going to turn his gaze away, something caught his eye. A stain. A dried-up stain that left a darker patch on the hem of his jacket. It couldn’t be water, it would’ve dried up normally. He’s familiar with it. After fucking around with multiple women in a variety of compromising situations, he’s all too familiar with what it was. 

Dirty. Fucking. Girl. 

He takes a deep breath, the confines of his shorts tightening around his hardening erection. He looks down at it, shaking his head. 

This is fucked. He thinks, his hand going down to palm his cock through his shorts. He grabs the jacket, bringing the stain close to his nose to get a whiff of it. 

Fuck. You smelled amazing. Something sweet, something fresh. By now he’s rubbing his cock with his hand, hips bucking up into nothing. 

“Joel! Mind handing me a towel?” 

Your voice cuts through his heated session. A grunt caught in his throat, shaking his head and trying to shrug it off by clearing his throat. “Yeah, erm,” He lets go of the jacket, “Where?” He stands up quickly. “Should be one by my room.” You hum from the shower.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters to himself, dragging his feet up the stairs and towards your room. He creaks open the door, scanning the room for your towel. He sighs, walking in and looking at every corner. Your scent is everywhere, making his head spin and cock harder. 

He finds your towel hooked on the back of your door, and relief washes over him. He grabs it hastily, pulling a top you discarded days ago with it. It drops down to his boots, and he stares at it. A white lacy tank top, one you wear at home only. He takes a deep breath, every fiber of his being screaming no. 

This isn't right, he's too old for you.

He was just going to put it back where it came from. What’s the harm in that? He was just going to put it back nicely, as if this never happened. He scoops it up, the soft feel of the fabric a contrast to his rugged hands. Then it hits him. Your scent. He can smell it all over the top. Didn’t even need to bring it close to his nose to be able to get a whiff of it.

He folds it neatly before tucking it in his pants. 

Oh, he was going to hell for this.

It took you days to notice that some pieces of your clothing went missing. First were the tank tops you wore at home, you always tucked them away by the first drawer of your cabinet. Second were the laced bras you bought from a city a long time ago, you mostly just use it when you’re out. Then finally, your favorite white lace thong. 

Joel started to come over more frequently, always by the front door with a pack of beer. Your dad was more than happy to let him in. It was strange, some pieces of your clothing came back during the days Joel was over. You thought nothing of it. 

Not until you saw him sneaking about the door of your room. He had just excused himself to go the the bathroom, a routine you picked up on ever since he came over more. It was like a tick in your brain– you just needed to know what he was truly doing in there. 

Instead, you catch him by your room, thong in hand, nose-deep, and cock hard. You were by the lower part of the stairs, enough to get a good view of what he was doing. Your eyes widen in shock, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. 

You had him hooked.

Joel knew how fucked up it was. He was inviting your dad for drinks and a good time, only for his main objective to be to sneak into your room and snatch a few pieces of your garments. All for what? Jerking himself off late at night, when all of his pillows are covered in your scent, when all he can think about is the way your hips move, the way your tits bounce. 

He knew how fucked up it was, cumming on your garments, moaning your name, and imagining how sweet your pussy would feel wrapped around his cock. He knew how fucked up he was. 

But it was better than actually touching you, than actually crossing the line and fucking his friend’s daughter. He kept a safe distance, he kept boundaries, and he made sure he never stepped the line. So, surely, this was better, right? He’d slip into your room, grab a bra, a thong, or a top, and he’d be satisfied. And that was enough. 

It had to. 

But goddamn you were making it hard. You were making him really hard. 

You knew how to push his buttons, knew how to drive him to his limits. Every outfit you put on for him just got more and more enticing. And for tonight, his eyes are now shamelessly scanning every curve and dip of your body. 

The hour was late, your dad had excused himself to his room– his head was hurting. It was only you and him now, sitting on the couch, in front of the television. The past few moments were pure torture for him. Every skin-on-skin contact with you made him go crazy, and every time you walked past him, he could just inhale your scent.

He has one of the couch pillows set over his thighs, a weak attempt to cover up the hard-on he earned just by looking at you. Your eyes were glued to the screen, a knowing smile displaying itself on your lips. 

20 minutes pass, and so far, he wouldn’t budge off the couch or even get a new bottle of beer. “Would you like a new one?” You turn your head towards his direction. He hums, nodding, “Mhm, sure.” You walk over to the table, grabbing a new bottle of beer before walking back to him. You bend over a bit, handing it out to him.

His eyes lock in on your chest, the soft flesh of your boob peeking out through your low-cut top. And for a moment, he stays like that, mind completely distracted by the view in front of him. “Joel?” You ask innocently, beer bottle still in hand. He clears his throat, nodding his head before taking it out of your hand. 

He quickly takes a sip, trying to focus on what shows the television is playing. You smile to yourself, taking a seat beside him. You have a finger over your mouth– you feel the tension, and you scooch closer to him. “What’re ‘ya doin’, kid?” He asks, his voice low, eyes never leaving the screen. “It’s cold.” You shrug. 

He turns his back on you, his body facing the other way. Your eyes graze down on his back, admiring the way his muscles bulge through his shirt. Then, you catch a glimpse of your thong in his back pocket.

That was it.

“You know, it’s weird..” You start, looking at him. He looks over at you with his eyebrows raised, “Hm? What is?” You hook your finger on it, pulling it towards you in one swift motion. You dangle it in front of him, a smug look on your face. 

“Never took you for a pervert, Miller.” 

He looks at you, eyes wide with shock as his grip on the pillow tightens. “M’kay- fuck, I can explain–” He starts, standing up and letting the pillow fall to the ground. Your eyes lock with his boner, a smile forming on your lips. “Yeah?” You tilt your head to the direction of his boner. 

His eyes look down for a second, assessing himself. He sighs, running a hand over his face. “Been sneaking around and stealing my things when you could’ve just asked nicely.” You tut, standing up on your feet. “I know you want to fuck me, Joel.” You take a step closer to him. He looks at you, unsaid thoughts crossing over his eyes. He sighs before shaking his head. 

“Not here.” Is all he says before picking you up and placing you over his shoulder. You giggle quietly,  feet dangling in the air as he makes his way to your room. He fumbles with the door knob before clicking it open and setting you down on the bed. He locks the door behind him, turning around to face you properly.

You’re on your knees, fingers hiking up and glazing over your thighs. He eyes your movements, shaking his head. He walks closer to you until all you can see in front of you is just his tall frame. He grabs your chin, forcibly tilting your head to make you look at him. You don’t utter a word, your eyes scanning the entirety of his face. 

“Makin’ it so fuckin’ hard to control myself around you, angel.” He rubs his thumb by your bottom lip. You poke your tongue out, eventually taking his thumb in your mouth. “Just so happens you don’t have enough clothes to cover yourself with when ‘m around, is that it?” He looks at you with a dark gaze, his other hand reaching to unbuckle his belt. You nod, the sides of your lips curling into a smile. 

He takes his thumb out, tossing his belt to the side. He sits down on the edge of the bed before unbuttoning his pants. 

“Bend.” 

His voice drops an octave lower, his hand gesturing to his lap. You’re dumbfounded, lips parted with shock. “What are ‘ya, deaf?” He glares at you. You shake your head and do as you’re told, bending over his lap. He yanks your cotton shorts down, the cold air hitting your bare ass. “No panties?” He asks, his hand groping and getting a feel of your ass. You shake your head, squirming under his touch. 

You flinched as the sharp sound echoed throughout your room, a sting following– hot and immediate. 

“Words, baby. Let me hear ‘ya.” His gruff voice cooed from above you, his hand soothing over your flesh. “Deliberately wearin’ nothin’, hm? Is this for me, angel?” His fingers rub against your pooling hole. “Y-Yes.” You shook out the word, your hands pressing against his thighs. 

Another slap. “Yes what?” Oh, he sounds pissed. 

“Yes d-daddy-!” You whimper, your knees pressing together. He leans down on you until his lips are just by your ear, “Now you’re gonna have t’be quiet if you want me to fuck ‘ya properly, understood?” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. You nod your head, a tear slipping out of your eye. “Aw, poor baby.” His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping your tear away, “Does it hurt?” He hums. “N-No daddy, promise!” You say earnestly, trying your best to be good for him.  

“Count for me, sweet girl.” He orders, his tone leaving no room for protest. 

His hand landed on the flesh of your ass, sharp and unyielding.

“O-One.” Your voice trembled under the contact. 

“Wearin’ nothin’ but short skirts and cropped tops, tryin’ to kill me.”

The next landed with no hesitation, your cheeks retracting at the contact.

“Two!” You bite your lip, muffling your whimpers. 

“Intentionally wearin’ nothin’ underneath those pretty white bottoms.” 

The next was harder than the last, more painful– the impact of it spreading heat through your skin.

“Three..!” By now you were crying, your pretty pink cheeks glistening with tears. He pulls your body against his, letting you lean against him. His hands were brushing against your ass, a tender touch– a contrast to his earlier actions. “Did so good for me, angel.” He kisses your cheek, his arms wrapping around your waist, “Makin’ me so proud.” 

You straddle on his lap, taking one of his legs between your thighs. You start moving, eager for the friction. “What’s this? Pretty baby beggin’ to get fucked?” He coos against your ear, the palm of his hand on the back of your head. “Y-Yes please, please.. been so g-good for you..” You whine, moving your hips faster. His hands travel back to your waist, holding you in place before flipping you over and letting you lay on your back.

He pulls away, tugging his pants along with his boxers. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, long and girthy, twitching and begging to get buried inside of you. Your legs unconsciously spread open, your pussy all on display for him. He smiles at you, leaning over you before kissing your forehead. 

“Keep quiet. Think you can do that f’me, baby?” He whispers, his hands on the back of your knees. You nod, your pussy pulsing against the tip of his cock. He leans down, pressing your thighs to your chest as he pushes his cock deep into you. Your knees touch your shoulders, and your hands find their way to his. 

Your pussy is stuffed, and you lightly tap him as a signal for him to give you a few seconds to adjust to his size. “Little girl taking me in so well.” He breathes, his hips staying in place. You bite down on your bottom lip, trying your hardest not to make a sound. 

Just when you thought he was all in, his hips pressed further against you, driving the extra inches of his cock inside you. “D-Daddy..” You hiccup, tears flowing from your eyes as your legs tremble in pleasure. “I know baby, I know.” He kisses the tips of your eyes, nodding, “Don’t worry. I’ll stretch you out real good, angel.” He whispers by the side of your ear. “Have you beggin’ for more in no time, you want that, yeah?” He lets out a low moan, burying his cock deeper. You try to relax your body, nodding at his words.

His grip on your legs tightens, his hips rocking into you. A moan slips out of your mouth, and he’s quick to cover it with his hand. You look up at him, beads of sweat forming around his forehead, some of his hair sticking on his skin. He looks down at you, his eyes gazing at your chest– your hardened nipples moving against the fabric of your top. He removes his hands from the back of your knees, relocating them to grope on your tits. 

He grabs the fabric, tearing it into two impatiently. You gasp at the contact, his hips snapping rapidly as he grunts by your ear. Your tits bounce, and this only fuels him further, “You’re so beautiful, angel,” He praises, peppering kisses on your hands, “Always so good for me.” Your legs hook around his waist, his other hand making its way to your neck. He puts pressure on your airflow, your hands wrapping around his arm.

The obscene sound of your squelching pussy and his invading cock fills the room, and you start to feel light-headed. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching against his towering body. You clench around his cock, your legs pulling him closer to you. “Need me buried deep in your pussy, yeah, angel?” He smirks, his other hand teasing your nipples. Your pussy pulses with his words, your head nodding frantically. “M-Mhm- mmfh..” 

“You needed this so badly, huh?” He asks, his fingers glazing over your clit. You buck your hips up, desperate for his touch. “So pretty for me.” He rubs your clit with a soft and teasing touch. “M-More.. pleasepleaseplease– hngh–” You gasp, “So close, daddy!” He nods, adding more pressure to your clit. 

He looked so perfect right between your thighs, his large frame towering over yours, his hands exploring your body. His hips staggered, “This pussy is mine, understand me?” He lets go of your neck, hands pushing the back of your thighs to your chest. You nod, biting your lip while tears threaten to spill from your eyes. “D-Da- haaah– yours, all y-yours..!” He speeds up the pace, his fingers working their way on your clit. 

Your hands fall to your sides, your mind solely focusing on your release. “Just needed t’be fucked stupid.” He whispers, pulling his cock out before slamming it back in. Your back arches, and you’re met with your release. His hands land on your hips, pulling you towards him as he thrusts his cock into you one last time. 

He holds you still, his hands kneading on your hips as he leans over you. You feel his cum seep into you, steady ropes of it shooting inside you. He keeps still, making sure that you got every last drop. You feel breathless, your hands finding their way to his chest. 

He brings one of your hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your fingertips. “So good for me, sweetheart.” He pulls out, collapsing by your side. He snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

He scans your face, his hand cupping your face. He rubs his thumb over your cheek, leaning closer to kiss it. He was so tender, so sweet with you– like you were the most precious thing to him. His hand rests over the back of your head, cradling you to his chest. You sigh contently, your eyes fluttering as your breathing steadies itself. 

He kisses the top of your head, muttering sweet nothings and praises as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

Every girl gets her wish. 

white lace divider by @chilumitos , cupid divider by @ioveartfilm ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ !

a/n: my second work! tried to do something new DOMJOELAHA, please feel free to correct me about any mistakes i made! i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! reblogs, comments, likes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!

tags ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ @pedrostories @syd-djarin @knockk0ut @joelscowgirl @rav3n-pascal22 @joelsdagger @joelmillerpascal @joelmillerihardlyknowher @tokkiwrites @taeslarityy @tcmmysheiby @magpiepills @joelsrose @slowdivinqs @mssalo @il0ve-urm0m @ladybirdswritings @fuckyeahdindjarin @joeloverture @wannab-urs @amyispxnk @yxtkiwiyxt @littlcdarlin @joelscurls @goldenispunk @coquettepascal @hellishjoel @joelslastofus @punkshort @iamasaddie @almostempty @gutsby @arcanefox207 @sanarsi @pedrohub @katiexpunk @lover-of-books-and-tea @joyceyayo @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @anenay @ashleyfilm @inept-the-magnificent @skullieispunk @iknowisoundcrazyreads @callsignmedusa @pixelspunk @puduvallee

[oatmealwrites]

NSFW Holiday Hoes: [Frat JJK AU] Gojo Satoru x F! Reader

Is it casual now?

Oncology student! Frat President! Fwb Satoru x Reader

holiday hoes masterlist here

regular masterlist here

Synopsis: Holiday season is always referred to as 'cuffing season' though he never really saw the point. Why want a real relationship when your casual affair offers everything he wants... or so he thought. Matching sweaters, gift wrapping, and sipping hot cocoa definitely isn't casual.. but it's all he wants for Christmas this year.

Tags: fwb, friends to lovers, Jealous! gojo, car sex, oral (m and f receiving), semi-public sex, helpless pinning on both sides, domestic fluff, shoko & utahime your roommates, wingman suguru, mentions of alcohol, some angst, satoru is bad communicator, making out, hickies, grinding, erection, face riding, missionary, p in v, creampie, aftercare, established relationship, fluff ending, 18+, MDNI

Word count: 11.5k (im cooking again)

a/n: sorry this took wayy to long, it's been a hectic week and a half as I get back to campus. BUT, my writing schedule should finally be stable! enjoy~

~~~~~~~

The windows of the white Mercedes have been fogged over for the past 10 minutes, and there were occasional shakes of the vehicle when you both shimmied into the backseat. The radio plays a mix of top 40 and residual holiday music while a cold winter wind howls outside. People scurry around the parking lot to enter the large shopping mall while others shuffle into their cars to avoid the harsh weather; everyone oblivious to what was happening in this vehicle. 

“Fuck… just like that princess…”

With your lips around his cock and globs of saliva dripping from your mouth, Satoru sits partially beneath you with his thighs splayed apart. Baggy jeans tugged down to his mid thigh and the fabric of his sweatshirt bunched up in his fist for a better view, the sight beneath him is familiar and heavenly. 

Taking the length you couldn’t fit in your mouth in your hand, your head bobs up and down with your tongue laying flat. Sweet pre-cum coats your tastebuds and you can feel the swollen veins that litter his dick throb with increased blood flow. White strands of pubic hair don’t tickle your face, but surround his base; Satoru always makes sure to trim before the two of you hang out.

Sucking him off in the backseat of his car wasn’t the goal of meeting up with him on this chilly afternoon, though it wasn’t particularly surprising. A mutual agreement formed between the both of you, close friends who just happened to be a bit closer than most. 

“Nnfghh…s-shit…gonna fucking cum soon…”

Satoru winces in pleasure and his hips jerk forward to get just a bit more of his length into your mouth. Jaw beginning to ache from keeping it open and lips swollen from his abuse, your hands move to cup his heavy balls and massage them the way he always likes. A few more whimpers and curses leave his lips and Satoru moves to take another chunk of your hair away from your face and into a messy ponytail. 

“Ca–Can I come inside?”

You consider it for a moment, recognizing you had actually remembered to bring your lip gloss this time, and not minding to reapply after you swallow. There’s no verbal communication needed, you bring your mouth to his flushed tip and lick it a few times in approval. 

That’s all Satoru needs to see, bucking hips forward and guiding your head to jerk off his tip in a faster motion before furrowing his brows in pleasure. Hot ropes of semen pour from his cock and into your mouth; the salty and thick liquid a taste you’ve had several times before. 

Satoru fucks himself through his orgasm by gently guiding your head, before slipping out from your lips with a pathetic wince. Despite panting heavily with a mind half-drunk in pleasure, a warm hand cups your cheek while his thumb wipes away any cum that had missed your mouth.

You stay hovering over his softening erection and thickly swallow the semen on your tongue before sitting upright and bringing a hand through your unruly hair. Following the routine, Satoru slips himself back into his boxers and jeans before leaning up to the front console and passing you your water bottle.

The cool liquid washes any taste down your throat, and you swish the water in your mouth a few times before swallowing with a sigh. Silently, Satoru fishes his fallen sunglasses from the car floor and opens his cell phone camera to place them over his eyes and fix his own hair.  

“What time is it?” you ask, while wiping your lips with the back of your hand and pulling out your lipgloss from your jeans pocket. 

“Mmmm, almost 3:15.” Satoru slides his phone into his back pocket and confirms the keys and wallet are still in his sweatshirt pouch. “We should head inside.”

You run one more hand through your hair before slipping on your winter coat and opening the backseat car door. Wind pushes it open harder than you anticipate, and you dive out to catch it before it bangs into the very expensive car parked way too close to yours.

“Geez, tryna scratch my car?”

Satoru laughs while waiting for you to shut the door so he can lock it and walk alongside you to the mall entrance. Pulling your arms into yourself, the cool temperature makes your skin raw and pink.

“I was trying to not dent your door, idiot.”

“Hmm?” Satoru zips his parka up to his chin and smiles sheepishly at you. “That’s good. I was worried you thought I wouldn’t reciprocate and decided to take it out on me.”

You roll your eyes and increase your speed; Satoru’s step length is so long it doesn’t bother him to keep up at all. A few families and couples pass as they walk to their cars, huddled close together to stay warm from the winter wind.

Satoru leans in with a wolfish grin now splayed on his lips. “I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?”

You nudge him in the ribs and keep your head down to avoid the blistering gust that pushes your hair back. The man at your side laughs to himself, though you both know he means it. You and Satoru were in an arranged, casual, platonic, friends with benefits agreement; that doesn’t mean he ever leaves you unsatisfied though. Anytime you made him cum, he made sure to repay the favor with his tongue, fingers, or cock within 24 hours. 

“What are you even looking to buy here anyways? I thought you ordered your Secret Santa gift online.”

Satoru steps ahead of you to open the heavy glass entrance doors and pivots to let you enter before matching to walk beside you once more.

“I was going to, but all the delivery options would be too late.”

You hum in thought and head towards the mall directory to survey the stores; the shopping complex isn’t overwhelming as most people had already done their shopping before the holidays. Tracing the floorplan with your finger, you linger on floor 2 marked as the ‘home and appliance’ section.

Satoru sways next to you, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Who do you have anyways?”

“Nanami.”

Tapping on ‘William and Sonoma’, you follow Satoru’s gaze which stares at ‘Best Buy’.

“You have Inumaki, right?”

“Yep.”

You survey the time once more before starting towards the escalator. “Let’s hit your store first since it’s on the way. If we finish early, I wanna do some shopping.”

Satoru steps on the moving stair beneath you, but doesn’t need to look up to meet your gaze. “Aren’t we already shopping?”

“No, like shopping for me.”

He shrugs and the frame of his circular sunglasses slides down his nose slightly before a long index finger pushes them back up. The mall is still decorated for the holidays; seasonal music plays in the background while ornate garland sparkles with LEDs and hangs from every banister. 

“What were you thinking of buying for Inumaki anyways?”

“Well, Yuji always complains about his shitty microphone when they game,” Satoru says while following you off the escalator and into the electronics store entrance. “I figured a new mic would be easy.”

It’s actually a thoughtful gift idea; which comes as a bigger surprise than you expected. Sure, you and Satoru are close friends, but you always chalked him up to being the kind of guy who just hands you a gift card because he couldn’t figure out what you wanted. Though to be fair, you and him never really exchanged physical gifts; the both of you settled into your fwb agreement early on and only traded sexual favors and fantasies. 

“Alright then.” You look up at the signs hanging from the ceiling for a moment. “Audio equipment is aisle 7.”

Walking side by side, the two of you scan the racks of microphones for ones compatible with his PC and settle between two options. Satoru grabs both boxes and tilts his head between the two.

You glance between them. “The one on your left is way over budget. Isn’t the max like, $25?”

“Yea, but-” He holds up the expensive option. “But this one is in the color he likes.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t argue; knowing him well enough to understand budget restrictions were merely suggestions in his eyes. Satoru turns the box around and smiles when he notices there’s no obvious price tag that would make Inumaki feel bad upon receiving such a nice gift and turns for the checkouts.

“Alright, that’s one down. Where to next?”

Watching Satoru tap the gaudy metallic black credit card on the payment terminal, he shoots a wink to the cashier and smoothly slides to resume his place at your side.

“I’m thinking of checking out William and Sonoma?”

Your friend hums in agreement and follows closely at your side while you peruse the aisles of the baking and cooking equipment. Every price tag you turn over makes you wince, and Satoru isn’t particularly helpful as he skims through every cookbook he passes.

“Think you can make this one? Kikufuku sounds kinda hard–what’s that?”

Satoru cuts himself off and pads over to where you stand hovering over a very nice and very expensive Le Creset.

“It’s a Dutch oven; you can make a lot of things like bread,” you say, voice falling at the number of zeroes on the tag.

What you had figured out from your time with the man is that Nanami was an all around foodie with a particular favoritism for baked goods. Looking back, you definitely should've double checked the prices online before walking in; each one carries a price tag way out of the Secret Santa limit and your personal budget.

“$360? That’s not too bad.” Satoru flicks the price tag out of his fingers and lifts the lid of the turquoise Dutch oven. “I mean, I don’t know what I’d do with it… but Nanami would probably be into it.”

“It’s a gift for him, not you, idiot.” You sigh and run your fingers down the side of the glossy finish.

Satoru doesn’t mind the nickname and tilts his head before looking around the store and noticing an array of red sale signs. Silently he takes your hand and dejectedly you obey and follow him to the far back corner of the building.

“Just buy a broken one and fix it. Good as new.”

You raise an eyebrow before examining the clearance racks ahead of you; Satoru is already reaching on the higher shelf to pull down a pale yellow Dutch oven that was missing a handle. Same brand, though slightly smaller. He pops the lid off to reveal the unattached handle that simply needs some sanding and super glue.

“Woa… you’re a genius.”

“Yea, well, it’s no mystery why I'm at the top of the oncology department.”

“Hm? Suguru told me that you definitely bottom.”

Satoru scoffs and shoves your shoulder, murmuring about how you of all people should know how well he tops you. You pay no mind to his complaints; turning the ceramic instrument over and settling on the reduced price of $35.99 to be justifiable considering the budget.

The two of you head for the checkouts and return to the walkways of the mall, satisfied with your timing so far on the shopping trip. You lean against the glass railing and pull out your phone while Satoru mirrors your position and scrolls through a few messages.

“Can I come to your place after this?”

You hum absentmindedly and respond to the DM Shoko had sent you earlier. “Sure, why though?”

“Suguru is having Choso over for a board game and smoke sesh. Plus I don’t have any wrapping paper.”

You roll your eyes at his lack of preparation, but accept his self-invitation. Pulling up the roommate group chat between you, Shoko, and Utahime, your pulse stops at the most recent messages.

Sho(e)ko: He’s gonna be at the party @ y/n

Utahimeh: huh?? Who?? 

Sho(e)ko: that guy from the law dept. I think his name’s Higuroma?

Utahimeh: Higuruma. And he’s not part of greek life i thought?

Satoru waits for your response to his follow up question and finally looks up from his phone to see you immersed in yours. The lack of attention given makes him nudge your forearm down.

“Huh?”

The white haired man lowers his glasses to raise an eyebrow at you. “I was asking what other store you wanted to see. But–,” he makes a swipe at your phone but narrowly misses.

“–Hey!”

Now any other time Satoru would shrug and continue talking about whatever was on his mind. Any other time. It’s not rare for you to ignore to wave off his loud mouth, but seeing you so absorbed in something without letting him in on it was rare. 

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.”

You don’t reply, and instead slip your phone into your front pocket to avoid his advances. Satoru raises an eyebrow at you and shrugs in suspicion before turning his attention to the rest of the mall. “Alright… Now let’s finish this up. I hate crowded places.”

Without pressing further, you both make your way to a department store near the main entrance and you waste no time going through the after-holiday sale racks. Satoru lingers at the men’s cologne section before wandering back over to you and leaning against the metal clothing racks in boredom.

“Why are you shopping anyway? I’ve seen your closet…. There’s no room.”

You roll your eyes and keep dragging hangers down. “I have nothing to wear for the party.”

Satoru audibly groans at this and slinks further onto the rack; arching his back like a shrimp. With a couple more slides of the articles of clothing, you pause. Mistakenly placed on the woman’s racks was a clearance turquoise men’s cashmere sweater.

With wide eyes, you slide it off the the rack and hold it up to guess how well the size would fit.

“You’re gonna wear that to the party?”

“No.” You roll your eyes at him and hold the article up. “What do you think about this for Nanami?”

If Satoru was barely paying attention earlier, he sure was locked in right now. 

“Huh? But what about that other thing you bought? The… danish stove?”

“Dutch oven,” you correct before shrugging. “I dunno. I could always keep that and give him this. It’s like his signature color.”

Satoru eyes the sweater and then glances back at you for a moment; peeking out from under your coat was a knit turtleneck collar of nearly the same color. In the moments waiting for his answer, you don’t see the way his brain is working out a million different scenarios; all of which create an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

“Nah, go with the oven. A sweater is too much.”

“Too much?” You spin it around and eye the price tag of $27, still out of budget, but closer to the goal. 

Satoru shrugs and looks off at the other racks. “Yea like vibe wise. Don’t we need to find something for you to wear before you shop for him?”

Blinking a few times, you slide the sweater back into its new home on the women’s clearance rack and sigh lightly; though not having to buy a new gift does help the stress on your wallet. Satoru watches you now slide through the racks while an indescribable feeling washes over him as you still keep glancing at the men’s sweater in consideration.

You’re still working it out in your brain and Satoru can read it all over your face. Suguru was up late last night listening to music and smoking with Shoko; the lack of sleep and overstimulation from such a busy place is how rationalizes the thoughts going through his head. 

“Let’s get matching ones. For the party.”

The hanger on the rack screeches to a halt as you look up at him with confusion knit in your brows.

“Huh?”

Satoru licks his lips and speaks a bit slower, “Matching sweaters. We should get some for the party, it’ll be hilarious.”

Raising an eyebrow at the man, you drink in the way his glasses have slid down the bridge of his nose slightly and reveal his pale blue eyes. The electricity in them leaves you momentarily speechless as his proposal slowly works its way through your brain.

“Why though?” You look around the clearance racks as if you’re really considering it. “We won’t even find a matching set here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer your first question and instead ducks his head to point out the holly red cardigan you were currently hovering over. “We’ll match colors then. Nice and easy.”

You blink and look down at the sweater you were just considering and chew the inside of your cheek; before you can ask again why he wanted to match, Satoru is already making a beeline for the men’s section. 

Shifting through hangers himself, he wastes no time pulling off a cashmere luxury-labeled sweater in the same bright red color. A light jog to catch up to him, Satoru takes the cardigan from your hands and throws it over his forearm with his own sweater before looking for the checkouts. 

******

The ride back to your apartment was as normal as it could be. The radio played top hits in the background while you and Satoru talked about whatever came to mind; gossip about the newest pledge Yuji and his brother(?) Todo, updates on the amount of subscribers on Inumaki’s twitch, and jokes about how Yuta still couldn’t beat Maki at any drinking game they played.

By the time you turn the key in the lock and are greeted by the sound of music playing on the tv and the chatter of your roommates, you’ve forgotten all about your stupid matching sweaters.

“Hey guys!” Utahime waves from her spot on the floor in front of the wrapping paper. “Back already?”

“Yep! Got our Secret Santa gifts~ so no peeking!”

You smile at her and kick off your winter boots before shimmying out of your coat and placing the brown shopping bags on the small kitchen table. Satoru follows suit and makes himself comfortable opening your pantry in search of something sweet.

“Oh, you’re here?” Shoko wanders out of her bedroom and directs her attention to the only man in the room.

“Ya, Choso is over to smoke with Suguru.”

She shrugs at the reason and joins him in the kitchen to fill a glass of water and eyes the bags on the counter before looking at you.

“What’d you get?”

You unwrap the scarf from around your neck and place it with your coat on the hooks. “Secret Santa gift, and a sweater for me.”

Shoko takes a sip of the water from her glass and peers into the bag; raising an eyebrow, she turns to you again.

This time, Satoru finally pulls out a small canister from the pantry and shoots her a grin. “Oh! We’re gonna be matching– it’ll be hilarious!”

You scoff while Shoko fishes out one of the sweaters from the bag and raises it slightly. “It’s not an ‘ugly sweater’ though… so why’s it funny–”

“Hot chocolate anyone?”

Satoru cuts her off and slams the pantry closed before tapping the lid of the powdered beverage container. Shoko processes slowly, shoots him a knowing glance that you can’t quite read, and releases the fabric into the bag again.

Shoko walks over to grab some wrapping paper from Utahime, Satoru takes out a few mugs from the cabinet, and you stand beside him to grab a big enough pot to begin boiling some milk. The moment is calm and familial as you both work on following the simple printed recipe while your roommates prepare their last few gifts before the party.

“Mmm this calls for 2 tablespoons per person… Satoru you definitely put in too much.”

“It’ll taste better that way.”

You hum and stir the simmering pot regardless while your friends on the floor whisper amongst themselves. Satoru pays no mind to them either, fishing out marshmallows and whipped cream and placing them next to the mugs.

Despite the small shake of her head to stop Shoko, Utahime sighs and watches as the woman leans against the couch and waves her phone.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You murmur a hum and nudge Satoru’s arm to not spill while he ladled the hot beverage into each mug.

“You never answered us earlier! Higuruma was asking about what to bring to the Secret Santa.”

Time stops and you release from Satoru’s arm to spin and face Shoko with eyes wide open.

“No way? He texted?”

Shoko smirks and nods slowly while Utahime is looking between her and the man behind you with a worried expression. Sure, you thought Higuruma was hot, hell who didn’t? But to ask if you wanted anything for him to bring made a giddy feeling wash over you.

The way you seem at a loss for words and begin sheepishly trying to work out the logistics of the Uber ride with a questionable amount of liquor bottles, you miss the way Satoru stops dividing the hot cocoa and stares at you. There’s an unreadable expression on his face as an unfamiliar emotion builds in his guts. 

No. 

It’s not unfamiliar; he’s felt it before a million times over, even earlier at the mall. Satoru swallows thickly and reaches to coat the top of his hot cocoa with a thick layer of whipped cream and chocolate syrup before reaching to pass you a mug.

“I can drive you guys, if you want. It's gonna be at my and Suguru's apartment anyways.”

You immediately pause from your position hunched over your phone to compare rideshare app prices for a larger vehicle and look up at the man; his hand reaches out to pass you a serving of hot cocoa. 

“Huh? It’s fine if we,” Shoko motions between herself, Utahime, and you, “ride together. Aren’t you and Suguru going early to set up decorations and drinks?”

Satoru shrugs and replies as if it were simple. “Nah, that’s new pledges jobs this time. I don’t mind swinging by to pick you up. Besides–” he swings an arm around your shoulder. “-there’s no point in matching if we don’t show up together~.”

“Seriously?” you sigh to him.

“Yep.”

You raise an eyebrow at him and hover your lips above the rim of the mug to blow steam away before taking a sip. Shoko keeps a knowing glance on Satoru, which he returns, before slinking back down to the floor and assisting Utahime with adding the finishing touches to the present in front of them.

You move slightly to confront him once again and ask why he would drive you and your roommate so suddenly, when he slides to grab the paper shopping bags and moves to the apartment floor. Music continues playing in the background as you watch the way your roommates shuffle over to make room for the man as if he deserved a permanent seat.

The wind picks up even more, and you cozy into your sweater a bit more before padding over and taking the seat next to him. Silently, he pulls out the Le Creuset you had purchased while Utahime gets up to pour herself a mug and grab a canister of super glue for you to fix it.

While the group wraps gifts and chatter amongst yourselves, Satoru remains fixed at your side, his thigh resting casually against your own.

~~~~~~~~~

“Has anyone seen my hair straightener?” Utahime calls out from the bathroom while rummaging through the drawers under the sink.

“No, but I call dibs on the bathroom in 5 minutes!” Shoko yells from the window where she finishes her cigarette.

You pause in front of your bed surveying the various outfits that match the red cardigan that sits in the center. Dresses seemed too formal considering it was still a frat function, despite it being more intimate than their usual big blowouts. 

Dragging your index finger over a variety of different length skirts, you settle on a black mini and tight white cropped tee to go on top. Paired with black opaque tights, said holly colored cardigan, and cute black boots, you step out into the living to do a full spin.

“Hey! I said 5 min– woa.” Shoko bangs on the bathroom door holding her makeup bag in one hand and pre-game drink in the other while smirking at you, “Hot.”

“Thank you, thank you~”

You do a small 360 and move to the kitchen table to finish up the last few steps of your own makeup routine, laughing when Shoko wedges the door open to squirm inside. Utahime tries to nudge her back outside, but the two wind up elbow-to-elbow in front of the mirror to finish getting ready.

Satoru had texted an hour ago saying he’d be there by no later than 7 to pick you all up and looking up from your compact as you apply the finish touches to your lip gloss, the microwave clock reads 7:38 pm.

“I need more room! Does the back of my hair look even?” Utahime spins around to show it definitely wasn’t even and Shoko replies with a chuckle.

Before you can butt in to prevent an argument, there’s a set of knocks at the door. Keeping an eye on the two of them, you only glance away to peer in the peephole and unlock the door. Satoru shuffles inside, twirling his car keys on his fingers and kicking off his shoes.

“Oh, a new record. Only 40 minutes late this time.” You cross your arms. “And what’s with the sunglasses? It’s dark outside.”

Satoru wiggles off his coat and pushes his frames back up the bridge of his nose. “Did you miss me that much?”

You roll your eyes and walk back to the kitchen table to retrieve your compact while the man giggles a bit before finally drinking in the scene in front of him. He stands motionless at the front entrance still, watching the way you slide your compact into a small purse and stand to whisk together another pre-game drink.

Every curve accentuated with your outfit, your hair looks glossy in the warm light of the floor lamps, and your makeup is done perfectly to compliment your natural features; Satoru’s seen you dolled up a handful of times before, but this time the matching colors you both adorn make pause.

“Did you want one or not?”

“Huh?”

You look up from the pitcher of an assortment of soft drinks and hard liquor with frustration. “I asked if you wanted one like 4 times now.”

“O-Oh,” he says and shuffles into the kitchen a bit closer. “Sure, but a small one; I’m still driving after all.”

You nod and spin back around to pour half a cup while Satoru slowly walks forward at your side; dressed in the same holly red with a cashmere sweater and straight leg jeans, he can’t help but admire your outfit.

“Listen, Y/N–”

“–Don’t use up all my setting spray Shoko! Or I’ll– oh, you’re here.”

Utahime comes from around the corner and pauses when she notices the designated driver has finally arrived. The white haired man at your side laughs lightly and gives a wave while your roommate flattens out the rest of her outfit and moves to stand at your side to pour herself another glass.

“Are you gonna make it to the party if you keep drinking this much?”

“Yea.” She turns to you and takes the first sip of her third drink. “This is just precautionary in case it’s lame.”

Satoru moves his mouth away, despite being about to take a sip, and rolls his eyes. “It won’t be lame. It’s not the same as the usual open-house function we do, but it’s still a JJK party.”

Utahime seems indifferent at the response and takes another big sip while Shoko emerges into the kitchen as well. “Oh? Looks like our ride, or y/n’s ride, has arrived.”

You roll your eyes and take a few gulps of your beverage while Satoru watches your reaction with a gaze you can’t quite decipher. Utahime shivers at the joke and moves to collect her Secret Santa gift from the living room. “Please, stop putting that image in my head. I don’t want to imagine our roommate and him banging in this apartment.”

With a sigh, you move to grab your own Secret Santa gift and pass Satoru the one he had wrapped and left here. Shoko chuckles a bit and assembles her things while sliding out her phone. “Ah, we really should get going.”

Utahime shoots Satoru a glare and wraps an arm around you while he stares in a slight confusion as the conversation pivoted against him. You had agreed to the fwb after all, so why was he the bad guy in this?

Shuffling on shoes, combining liquor and wine bottles into one cardboard box (which Satoru is forced to carry), and triple checking everyone has their gifts, you all head out of the apartment. Light chatter amongst you and your friends as you walk through the lobby while Satoru fishes out his car keys, holding the box with one hand against his side, a clean white Mercedes sits in the resident spot near the front.

You raise an eyebrow and open the trunk for Satoru to slide in the box. “Why are you parked here? The visitor spots are open, and you don’t have a resident tag.”

“Hm?” He ducks and places his hand on the top of the trunk, ready to shut it. “I always park here?”

If he was telling the truth, you couldn’t hide the surprise. Has he always parked here? Before you can question it, Shoko has leaned up from her spot in the back seat to lean against the car horn and begin yelling through the open crack in the window.

“We’re gonna be later than we already are! Make out when we get there!”

You knock against the window to shut her up while Satoru lets out an honest laugh. “Well, you heard the woman. Wouldn’t want to keep her or you waiting.”

You shove his shoulder lightly and he lets out one more chuckle before walking around to sit in the driver’s seat while you take your place in the passenger seat next to him. By the time the car leaves the parking lot, your roommates are bickering amongst each other about song requests and bets on who the rest of the group had for Secret Santa.

Satoru’s hand rests comfortably on your thigh, drawing an array of shapes with his fingers as he handles the steering wheel with the other hand. The feeling is familiar, though the gentleness of the action is new. He wasn’t exactly discreet when it came to wanting your attention or physical touch, but it usually came before you two got down and dirty.

The lightness of his touch while his eyes remained fixed on the road was so casual it almost wasn’t. When Shoko and Utahime shift to talk about Higuruma once again, you don’t bother to join the conversation, and Satoru’s eyes finally leave the road to glance over at you.

~~~~~~~~

“Oh, only an hour and 15 minutes late this time, Satoru. I’m glad I told you the party started at 7:15 and not 8:30.”

Suguru laughs from the kitchen island of their shared apartment while you all shuffle in through the door and remove your winter outwear. Maki and Nobara sit on the sofa in the living room while Inumaki and Yuta mix a few drinks and Yuji and Megumi organize the group’s gifts on the coffee table. 

You, Shoko, and Utahime branch off to greet Nanami and Higuruma in the kitchen while looking around for the rest of the group.

You dig around in the cardboard box Satoru had carried and take out a bottle of prosecco before passing it to Higuruma to open.

“Where’s everyone else?”

Higuruma places a careful hand on the cork and points it away from you as it pops. “Choso is smoking on the balcony and I think Haibara went with Todo to pick up Mai and the others.”

You hum in acknowledgement and open a few cupboards in search of a flute for the drink whichHiguruma fills up without needing the question as soon as you present it.

Across the room, Suguru and Satoru idly pour themselves a drink while the final preparations are being made.

“Soooo, you talk to her yet?”

Satoru raises an eyebrow and finishes his pour of the sweet concoction of fruit juices and rum before turning to his friend. “Who? And what about?”

Suguru cracks open a beer and shoots his friend a sideways glance with a ‘seriously?’ look on his face.

“Oh come on. If you’re gonna keep y/n at a distance, you can’t be all moody when another guy tries to make a move.”

Satoru scrunches his eyebrows and raises the cup to hip lips. “Huh? No one is making a move… and I’m not moody!”

“Yea you are.”

“No–”

“You’re gonna break the cup in a second if you keep gripping it that tightly.”

Satoru pauses for a moment and takes a deep breath; the plastic cup dents and creaks as his pressure lightens. Laughter rings out in the air as you, Higuruma, Utahime, and Nanami all crowd around the kitchen island giggling about something. The way your eyes shut with a large smile on your lips catches his attention before he notices the way the other men in the circle look as starstruck as he does right now.

It shouldn’t bother him; he doesn’t get to be upset when he was the one that proposed all those late night flings you’ve had were completely casual. When the two of you first hooked up months ago during a party, it was the first thing Satoru muttered once you both came down from your highs. Looking at his own reflection with the beverage in his hand, he can’t even remember why he had said it in the first place.

Sure, it was great to be fwb; he gets to know you in and out of the bedroom without any of the ‘responsibilities’ of being a boyfriend. Though watching you lightly shove the arm of a coyly smirking Higuruma, all the ‘obligations’ of being your boyfriend merge into benefits. He could be over there with an arm around your waist telling every guy in here to fuck off, he could be the one to take you shopping rather than shopping for other men, he could be the one you would wear matching colors with on campus, rather than as a lame party gag.

“You done moping yet?”

Satoru lifts the drink and take a few big sips, his eyes never leaving your figure.

“I fucked up, Suguru.”

“Ha!” The man at his side throws his head back and laughs, “I know. We all know.”

Satoru looks over to the balcony entrance, catching the way Shoko peers back at him with her arms crossed with a knowing glance; she only looks away when Choso taps her for a light.

“Well, what am I supposed to do? I’m the one that made it casual to begin with.”

It’s weird to see him so upset, and Suguru drops his smile at the melancholy feeling emitting from his best friend.

He places a hand on his shoulder. “Tell her how you feel. For real this time.”

“What if…” The plastic cup in Satoru’s hand crinkles again at the pressure and he drops his voice. “What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

A loud sigh can be heard from Suguru’s lips as he shrugs. “Well that’s part of the whole thing; real relationships are scary like that. But–” He looks at the mess of emotions on his friend’s face. “That’s better than whatever you’re feeling right now.”

Satoru swallows thickly and nods slowly in agreement; he had been putting this off for too long now. With a long gulp of his beverage and supportive pat on the back from his best friend, he takes off to the kitchen with his sights set on you.

“No way? You guys went to the holiday market?”

Higuruma nods and motions to Nanami. “Yea, Yuji thought that would be a good place to introduce us.”

Nanami nods and takes a sip of his drink. “It was great; the food stalls were very impressive.”

You look between the two men and almost salivate at the thought of such good food before a heavy arm is thrown over your shoulder. Dragged into the side of Satoru, you look up and shoot him a confused glance.

It isn’t by accident or through a casual greeting for this display of physical touch. While you may see it as Satoru being his usual self, the two other men in the conversation understand the hint. Matching sweaters and his arm around you; Nanami and Higuruma don’t move any closer and pause to change the conversation.

“Hey,” you nudge into his side with a whisper-yell, “what are you doing?”

Satoru looks between the group, which is now immersed in another conversation, before dipping down to your ear. “I needed to talk to you.”

“So?”

“So–” His arm falls down to grab your elbow. “I need to do it in private.”

Raising an eyebrow, you take in the way he leans his head in closer before rolling your eyes and shoving his hand off of you.

“Seriously? Now? You can’t last another day or at least until my conversation is over?”

Satoru purses his lips and watches the way the open group has now isolated you both and turned into a three way conversation between Nanami, Higuruma, and Utahime.

“It’s over. Let’s go.”

You scoff at the brashness but don’t stop him as Satoru pulls you out of the kitchen and into the hallway. 

“Hey where is–”

“Yuji! I need your help with the music; the others will be here soon.”

Suguru pulls Yuji to the side and shoots his best friend one last look before pivoting to push the younger man back into the living room.

By the time the door closes and locks, you cross your arms and tap your foot impatiently at Satoru while he busies himself with awkwardly cleaning up his room. Awards from his research in oncology hang on the wall alongside an array of photographs from high school to present day.

Satoru shuffles to his bed, some dirty laundry sitting at the foot on the floor. A light gray comforter sits messy atop navy blue sheets, and the ikea paper floor lamp creates a familiar warm glow across the room.

“What’s this about Satoru? You couldn’t wait?”

“Yea.. something like that.”

The atmosphere is awkward and different than any other time he’s pulled you aside. Usually, he’d sweet talk you a bit and get a bit touchy before dragging you into somewhere more private and slamming his mouth on yours. The way he uncomfortably sits on his bed and can’t quite make eye contact reminds you of the first time the two of you ever had sex. Before it was casual.

He rubs the back of his head in thought while the tension makes you squirm where you stand. It occurs to you that this feels more like a friend in need of support rather than the physical prowess who you’ve come to associate with meaningless sex.

Your voice softens and you shuffle to sit beside him on the bed. “Hey… are you ok?”

“Yes– no…” he sighs and looks at his feet. “I don’t know…”

Your heart strings tug at the vulnerability in his voice and the sullen clicking of the vintage clock radio on his desk. “Ok… take your time Satoru. I’m not going anywhere…”

A mix between a chuckle and a scoff escapes his lips and the pained look he gives you is pitiful; he looks down for a moment more before slipping off his sunglasses and dropping them onto the bed.

“I want to end this.”

…. Huh?

“...What?”

“I want to end this.” He meets your gaze and motions between the both of you. “Whatever this is, or was, it’s done.”

You pause and blink at the man, worry and sympathy quickly becoming replaced with anger, embarrassment, and frustration. All the months tangled between the sheets and moments of genuine happiness in his company come crashing down.

“What..? Why?”

With eyebrows furrowed, there’s no way to hide the cold tone laced in each word you spit out; Satoru winces and shuts his eyes before taking a deep sigh.

“I just…. We have to, ok?”

“No, not ok.” You stand up from the bed and make some distance, hands curled into fists. “Not until you give me a real reason.”

Satoru looks at you with tired eyes and glances back at the floor. “There isn’t one…”

“So what then? I was just something to fuck until you got bored?”

He shoots his eyes up and frantically shakes his head. “What? No! That’s not it all.”

“Is there somebody else? Just kept me until you could swoop in and get in a real relationship?”

“N-No!” Satoru stands from the bed and raises his voice to match yours, an argument breaking out.

From down the hall, Suguru winces and motions Yuji to increase the volume on the speakers and offers people fresh drinks to stall for a bit longer.

“I know we’re casual, but I thought I at least meant something to you as a friend.”

“You do!”

Your brows twitch in frustration and hot angry tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Then why are you ending this–”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

…what?

You pause and pant to catch your breath, the silence deafening as Satoru stands pathetically in front of you tugging at his hair in frustration.

“I’m in love with you, ok?” He pushes chunks of it back, only to have it cascade right back down. “That’s why… we can’t do this anymore. It’s not casual.”

You breathe in and out slowly while your pulse shoots through the roof. Standing in the center of his room, the one you’ve been in a million times before, suddenly feels suffocating. When you don’t answer, Satoru peels his eyes off the floor and scans your face with a worried expression.

“Say something… please…”

You swallow and look at him cautiously. “Why… why didn’t you say anything that night?”

Satoru winces and looks back down again before rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands with enough force he’s seeing stars. That night. Why couldn’t he just man up enough that one night all those months ago?

It was the night he had finally mustered up the courage to ask you to a party as his date after months of pathetically trying to find a way to ask you out. Music blaring and alcohol flowing, the sight of you wrapped around his arms dancing was heavenly; the sight of nearly every other guy ogling you was hell. 

Liquid courage flowing through you, you had pushed him back to his bedroom and connected your lips to his. Matching the intensity, he had wasted no time in kissing you back; before anyone could wonder where the two of you had gone, you were making love in between his same navy blue sheets.

When the both of you came down from the high, it was the first thing out of Satoru’s mouth.

Let’s keep this casual, ok?

It hurt so bad to hear, and it hurt him even worse to watch the way your face fell in a dejected response. 

“That night…?”

You grab at the fabric of your skirt in an awkward and anxious energy. “Yea.”

“Because–” Satoru finally looks back at you and sighs, “I don’t think I can make you happy in any way that isn’t physical. I don’t bake bread with ceramic ovens, I don’t practice law and know how to get stupid corks out of wine bottles… I don’t think you would be emotionally happy with me.”

There’s another long pause as the anger fully slips out of you; your hands fall flat at your sides and Satoru finds solace staring at the white shaggy rug that lays beneath his bed to the middle of his room. 

“And you decided that without ever asking me?”

The sound of your voice makes him look up, and he winces, fully expecting you to reject him and tell him to fuck off forever. You take a few cautious steps forward and sigh lightly; taking his hand in your own, you tug at him to meet your gaze.

“Satoru, why do you think I said yes to being your date at that party?” A dry laugh escapes your lips and you watch the way your fingers intertwine with his. “I had been waiting months for you to ask me out… Shoko and Utahime laughed at me so much when I came home and told them you finally did.”

Satoru stays silent for a moment and creates a crease in his forehead from the way his eyes portray nothing but regret and sadness. “And I ruined everything, didn’t I? Pushed you away, and now there’s two great guys out there that would never make the same mistake I did.”

You look up at him and glance between his eyes before smiling gently. “I mean… probably.”

Satoru nearly releases the grip on your hand, but you keep your fingers firm. “But… the guy I like is in here.”

“In here?”

“Mmhmm.”

Satoru’s eyes widen and he searches your face for any sign you’re about to say it’s some sick joke before you lean up to capture his lips with your own. Your lipgloss smearing slightly against his mouth, Satoru’s lips chase after yours when you take a slight pause to breathe.

Hmpfh– 

The force of him stepping forward to continue the kiss has you walking backwards until your legs are plush against his desk. He leans in with more force and cups your cheeks to keep your mouth perfectly aligned with his; strands of white hair fall down at the angle and tickle your face.

The kiss is similar to the ones you’ve shared before, and it makes you wonder if every time you and Satoru had sex, he was hoping it was something more meaningful than a fwb. Lips against your own, his hands fall to grip your waist and keep you still against him; an erection hardening in his jeans against you. 

“F-fuck… Satoru..”

In the brief moment you escape his lip to whimper out, he meets his mouth against yours again and swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. Parting for access, the hot muscle eagerly explores your mouth and leaves the fruity taste of pineapple juice on your tongue.

The sensation sets your skin on fire and causes arousal to pool in your panties while his hips rut pathetically against yours. His tongue rubs against your own and the messiness of the kiss leaves saliva dripping from both of your mouths; unable to move from being squished between Satoru and the desk, the pressure of the moment leaves your mind dizzy.

With one last exploration of your molars, Satoru disconnects his lips from yours and immediately moves down to the sensitive skin on your throat. Open mouth kisses litter the flesh under your jaw to the base of your collarbone before the man in front of you pauses and leans back slightly. 

“Is it… is it ok?”

Neither one of you had either left a hickey on the other person, having deemed it too intimate to leave claiming marks when neither of you were entitled to exclusivity. The question he poses has more weight than if he can leave a few bruises; he’s asking if you can be his.

Hot breaths leave his panting lips and you shiver from the sensation; looking up at the man, you take in the pink on his cheeks and the dilation of his pupils.

“Y-Yea.”

Knees nearly buckling forward, Satoru nods once and stumbles forward to latch his lips and teeth onto the delicate flesh of your throat. A surprised groan escapes you, and he sighs before sinking his canines into your skin and sucking the tender spot into his mouth. It’s a mix of pleasure and pain that courses through you at the sensation, one Satoru mirrors as his aching erection painfully pushes at the fly of his jeans.

He’s never been so hard in his life. Sure, he always remembered to thank his lucky stars every time you and him were intimate, but the idea of doing this as a committed pair makes his hips jerk forward in desperation. 

Lips releasing the flesh with a ‘pop’, his mouth moves to suck the pulse point under your jaw while his hands move from holding your hips to hovering just below your tits. Satoru’s mind goes fuzzy when he can feel your pulse on his lips and when your hands rest on his to push his palms to your breast.

The feeling of his mouth sucking dark bruises on your neck and the way his thumbs already know where to push down to grind your nipples through your bra leave you feeling drunk. When his erection grinds against your pelvis again, you lean your head further to the side and groan.

“S-Satoru..”

His lips ‘pop’ off your pulse and trail to find the next spot just under your ear. “Ye-Yea, princess?”

You shudder at the pet name and clench pathetically around nothing while his hands continue kneading your tits.

“Use your words”

Any other time the command might’ve made you a bit embarrassed, but leaning against the desk at his mercy while raging with desire, you don’t really care.

“I want you.”

Despite saying the words before a handful of times when the moment was intense, Satoru doesn’t miss the new implication and weight of them. He leans down to connect your lips again, whimpering when you tug at his hair impatiently.

“God, I could kiss you forever.”

“Ok, then do it.”

He smiles and leans down once to peck your lips again, before backing up and making room for the both of you to walk over to the bed. You're barely on the mattress when he pushes you flush against his pillows and splays your thighs apart to make room for himself. 

Sitting on your elbows, you drink in the sight of Satoru lifting his arms above his head to pull off the sweater and reveal a torso sculpted from marble. An array of scars litter the skin, some from stories you’ve heard and others from ones you’re sure to hear one day; a particular faded scar by his navel remains unknown.

“Sukuna fucking hit me on his stupid bike.”

He notices the way your eyes linger on his torso and pays no mind while his fingertips pinch the hem of your shirt to tug the cardigan and fabric off.

“Really? How?”

“Said he was gonna teach Megumi how to ride.” He drops your red cardigan on the floor to match his sweater and throws your t-shirt haphazardly behind him. “Fucking idiot clipped me and sent me flying to the pavement.”

Your fingers graze the scar once before dropping to outline the hem of his jeans and tracing the outline of his erection. Satoru sucks in a shallow breath and moves to release the button and zipper.

“Did it hurt?”

“Yea– felt like I got split in half. But..” He shimmies the fabric down and kicks it to join the other clothes before reaching behind you to release the metal clasp of your bra. “I’m feeling really good right now.”

You laugh slightly and pull him to another kiss, which he happily leans in for, before you part to wiggle your skirt and tights down. Both of you left in your underwear, the tightness of his Calvin Klein briefs leave little to the imagination.

Pre-cum staining the gray material darker, the tip of his cock is nearly pushing through the fly of the fabric from the intensity. Satoru isn’t sure if he feels light headed from the lack of blood flow to his brain or from the fact that your red panties are stained with arousal.

He pauses and sits back for a moment to peer over the bed and finally notice the way your bra had been the same shade. Gun to his head, if anyone had asked him the color of the fabric earlier, he would’ve been dead.

“F-fuck… did you match this, f’me?”

You wet your lips and nod once while Satoru feels as if he could die happily. The girl of his dream, matched her bra and panties to his outfit? In a silent vow to never fumble the bag ever again, he leans back down to capture your lips.

Leaning against his soft pillows and wrapping your arms around his neck, a squeak escapes you when he tugs to flip the positions over. Hovering over him now, his hands dig into the plush of your thighs and gently push you forward.

“W-what?”

“Get up here and sit.”

You pause and look down at Satoru who tugs at your thighs with a face drunk in desire; his biceps scoot you up higher until you’re hovering his face. Fingers wrapped around the base of your panties, you lean forward to grab his headboard while he slides them down your legs and off each ankle. 

He bundles the wet fabric into a little ball and reaches up to tuck it underneath one of his pillows.

“H-hey! Give it back, perv.”

“I will.. After you sit.”

His hands reach up to your hips and push you down onto his nose and mouth; the sensation immediately makes you gush in arousal. Satoru’s pointed nose nudges your puffy clit while his lips suck at your entrance before his tongue slithers in. You groan and curl your toes for a moment before trying to tense your thighs and stand; his hands immediately hold you still.

Leaning back for a moment, the scene beneath you is filthy. Satoru’s lips are swollen from the suction and your slick coats his mouth and chin; he looks up at you as if you had taken away something so very dear to him.

“Hey, get back down here.” He whines up at you, his eyes nearly black from the size of his pupils.

“B-but… i might crush–”

He pulls your thighs down lower and breathes hot against your pussy, licking a long stripe and peering up once more. “Then go ahead and crush me. As if I’d want to die anywhere else than under your fucking cunt.”

With one last tug, he pulls you down onto his face once again and continues his ministrations; the sensation sends a shiver down your spine. Tongue pushing into your sopping cunt with a disgusting french kiss while his nose lifts to grind against your clit once more. 

It takes one more tug of your hips before you take a deep breath and grab the headboard firmly, ready to finally grind. One sway of your hips instantly amplifies the pleasure; his nose rutting with perfect pressure before your effectively fucking his face.

Whimpers escape your and Satoru’s lips, the vibration further making your mind fuzzy. His tongue presses against the fleshly walls of your cunt in desperation to drink in every drop of your arousal while his hands freely knead the flesh of your ass as you grind. Hunching forward, you can vaguely makeout the scene beneath you; Satoru’s hair plastered his forehead with sweat while his eyes are screwed shut in concentration. The redness of his face makes you wonder if he can even breathe properly. 

“Ahhh… S-Satoru… gonna..”

He gently pushes up on your thighs and takes several deep breaths while trying to form a sentence.

“On my…cock… gotta cum on my cock… please princess..”

You whimper at the lack of stimulation after getting so close to the edge and peer back to notice the angry way his cock throbs against the fabric. The pre-cum patch even larger than before, you turn back around and nod once before swinging your thighs over his head to sit on his comforter.

Your arousal still coating the entire lower half of his face, Satoru runs his tongue over his lips to savor the taste before capturing you with a kiss once more. His tongue feeds you your own slick and, with a fuzzy mind, you barely process when his mouth leaves yours.

You watch the man slide off the bed and open his night stand drawer for the familiar box of condoms before dropping it.

“Shit. There’s no way…”

He leans in to reach around again before pulling back empty handed and dropping to his knees to feel around his jeans for his wallet. Unfolding it open, he sighs when there’s no foil in sight and runs a hand through his hair in desperation. 

“Guess my luck had to run out eventually.”

You sit on the bed and watch the scene unfold before raising an eyebrow. “Well… can’t we just get the morning after pill?”

“Huh?” He looks up and approaches the bed. “You’re ok with that?”

You’re so horny you’d be ok with anything right now; and the thought of missing out on orgasming again has you going feral. Satoru thanks his lucky stars when you nod in approval, and climbs back onto the mattress to place a chaste kiss to your lips.

He guides you to shimmy down and lay on your back while he reaches into the drawer to pull out a small container of lube; Satoru finally shimmies out of his briefs and kicks them to the floor to let his erection stand freely. It’s a sight you’ve always loved, a tidy bush trimmed at his base while a cock longer and thicker than any guy you’ve been with twitches with anticipation.

Pouring a generous amount of lube into his hand, Satoru gives himself a few generous strokes and massages the flushed tip of his cock before tapping it against your clit for good measure. Splaying your thighs apart with his knees, your legs lift to wrap around him while he crawls forward and slowly slides in.

“Nnnghh..fuck–”

 The burning stretch is one your pussy can never get used to, and your hands on his shoulder blade leave your nails digging into the flesh. Satoru slowly continues pushing in until his pubes are tickling your skin and he’s completely bottomed out inside you.

“Oh my go— fuck princess…. Ha… might cum just from feeling you…”

He sucks a new bruise into the side of your neck, giving you time to adjust while your cunt flutters around him pathetically in an attempt to accommodate his size. Waiting a moment, he finally slides out before pushing back in, with a light ‘tap’ from the headboard into the wall. 

The feeling is insurmountable, and any resolve Satoru had to take things slower seeps out of him as he thrusts in and out of your cunt with a bruising tempo; his tip slamming into your cervix. Legs still hoisted around his waist, the pubic hair on his pelvis grinds forward into your clit with each stroke.

“Aahhh Sator– mpfh”

His hand moves to cover your mouth while he continues bullying his cock into your snug cunt.

“Shh princess… can’t– haaa… can’t have them hearing you..”

Despite his attempt to cover your moans, there’s an audible ‘plap!’ plap!’ plap!’ from the sound of his heavy balls smacking your ass and the banging of the headboard into the wall. The wooden frame creaks uncomfortably, and Satoru bites back down onto your neck to avoid groaning.

Shit. Considering it feels this good without a condom, he would get a vasectomy if he meant he could always hit it raw.

“H-huh?”

Oops. Did he say that part out loud?

His hips snap into yours and long scratches make their way down his back, the pain only heightening the pleasure while his cock drills into you. Noticing the way your hips arch upward in search of more friction, Satoru reaches to grab a pillow and pull it under your waist.

The angle tilts your waist so perfectly, each snap of his hips grinds further onto your puffy clit while his tip bruises your g-spot. Your cunt gushes at the sensation and Satoru is left thinking a million different images to avoid cumming. Boring oncology classes, midday traffic, Yaga teaching said boring classes; his hips twitch pathetically at his impending orgasm.

“Y-you’re trying to milk me dry? Ha~.. gotta make sure you cum soon ngh too..”

He snakes a hand forward to rub mean circles on your clit and the feeling makes you throw your head back and groan exceptionally loud. The coil in your abdomen grows tighter, and you lift your hips to meet his thrusts in an attempt to reach your high.

“ahhh … S-Satoru, I’m gonna… c-cum..”

Satoru falls forward and continues hammering into your abused cunt while you scrunch your eyebrows and moan as your orgasm washes over you. His hips keep pumping his cock into you as your body twitches to ride out the high and tears prick at your eyes from the intensity. 

Your legs feel like jelly and, before they can drop, Satoru holds onto the plush underside to keep them up and grinds his pelvis up against yours a few more times. Before overstimulating can make you squirm, his pace gets erratic and he shudders desperately as hot ropes of cum pour into you.

Fucking himself through his orgasm, he snaps forward a few more times to ensure every last drop is out, and the sensation makes you feel borderline bloated. His erection softening, Satoru slips out with a wince and watches in a daze as his cum slowly drips out of you; without thinking, he dips an index forward to catch it and push it back in.

“Satoruu,” you whine from your fucked out position on his bed.

The man snaps out of his trance and reaches forward to grab a handful of tissues to wipe you both down. Semen leaks out of your cunt and onto the tissue while another piece absorbs the cream ring that was on the base of his cock. In silence, you both catch your breath and take in the moment.

Aside from condoms, it’s the first time Satoru’s ever been inside you without a barrier, and also the first time he’s fully cum in you without protection. Panting slightly, he lays against the bed and pulls you from your seated position and into his arms.

You trace invisible shapes on his pecs before looking up and realizing he was already staring at you.

With a light scoff you flick his forehead, “You’re staring, weirdo.”

“Hmm? Can’t stare at my girlfriend?”

The word makes you pause, the way it slips off his tongue so naturally makes you feel as if the title had been reserved for the whole time. You pause and take a deep breath.

“About that… I think we should keep this casual, Satoru.”

He sucks in a breath from above you and his eyes widen in shock and hurt; pretending to look off in the distance as if his heart wasn’t breaking, he shrugs in a forced manner.

“Gotcha~”

You sit up to lean over his face and capture his lips in a kiss before running your hands through his hair to push it back. Satoru sits up and shakes his head with a whimpered sigh. “Don’t do that! I already said I was sorry!”

Giggling slightly, you pinch at his arm to release you, but he makes no move to lighten his hold. 

“We have to get dressed and go back–”

“Call me my real title first.”

He nuzzles into your neck and places gentle kisses while his biceps keep you pinned into his chest. With a giggle you sigh and lean against him.

“Ok, can my boyfriend let me go so we can get dressed?”

“Hmmm, he’ll think about it.”

You shake your head and Satoru lifts his own to place a soft kiss against your lips, chasing after them when you part for a quick breath. It’s gentle and slow, one you’ve never shared until right now.

With a defeated sigh, he lets you stand up and dig through the clothes to find your bra and snap the clasp back on. He admires the sight before standing up and grabbing a fresh pair of underwear for himself and you from his drawers.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna give me back my own?”

Satoru raises an eyebrow and bounces on one leg to slide into the pant leg of his jeans. “What? I don’t remember you wearing any earlier…”

Knowing it was a battle you were never going to win anyways, you slide on his spare boxer briefs and throw your t-shirt over your shirt. Satoru reaches for his sweater while you shimmy your tights and skirt back on; he gives a few sprays of the cologne he knows you like and leaves his sunglasses on the bed.

Giving you a moment for one final smooth of your outfit, Satoru opens the door and takes your hand to guide you down the hallway back towards everyone.

“Why can’t we start already? I wanna know who has meee,” Yuji whines from the loveseat.

Suguru stands in the center of the living room trying to calm the crowd only pausing to notice the way his best friend saunters into view with you latched onto his arm.

“Oh, sorry for the hold up.” He slides onto the couch and tugs you into his arms to sit beside him. “My girlfriend and I had to get something sorted.”

He looks around to see the reactions of the crowd and raises an eyebrow when no one moves from excitement. Megumi rolls his eyes beside Yuji while Yuta and Inumaki cough awkwardly. Even Choso sits idly next to Todo as if Satoru were reporting the weather to the group.

“Did you hear? Y/N and I are dating–”

“We know.” Shoko interrupts and pours herself another glass of wine from the kitchen.

Satoru whips around to stare at her while the look Utahime gives you makes you want to instantly disappear; you tug on your boyfriend’s sweater but he takes that to mean you want to hold his hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. 

“No, we’re like… together–together”

“WE KNOW!” the group yells in unison.

You slink into the sofa and wish to disappear while Satoru blinks in confusion and looks among the group. Suguru rolls his eyes and moves to sit beside you on the other side of the couch. “We all heard you in his room.”

If there was ever a time for a bomb to go off, it would be right now. Nobara and Maki snicker to themselves while Higuruma, Haibara, and Nanami stand near the window and shake their heads slightly. 

Suguru leans over to you both and shrugs. “I could only stall for so long; they got suspicious when the headboard was louder than my speakers.”

You squeak and sink into your boyfriend’s arms while he sheepishly scratches at the back of his undercut. “That loud huh?”

“Yep.”

He leans away from his friend and runs a reassuring hand over your shoulder to relax, the mortifying moment leaving you wondering if you could ever show your face on campus again.

“It’s ok, we just gotta be quiet next time–”

“Her neck is also completely purple with hickies,” Suguru interrupts once again before leaning back and taking a long sip of beer in the process. 

With one more curt nod, and cutting his losses, Satoru claps his hands and eyes the mountain of gifts piled on the coffee table.

“Well, now that you all know about my and y/n’s sex life and committed relationship, let’s get this Secret Santa started!”

A mix of groans and ‘ooos’ emit from the group; Utahime stands up to begin the process while Satoru keeps a comfy arm around your waist as you partially lay into his chest.

“I know the holidays have passed, but now that we’re all back on campus from break, I figured it would be best to do the exchange now. Is everyone ready?”

Yuji and Todo pump their fist up in excitement while Mai grimaces at the loud outburst. With the gift exchange beginning, you nestle into your boyfriend’s arms and rest your head on his shoulder.

A chaste kiss is placed on your forehead and Satoru runs his thumb absentmindedly across the skin on your thigh. 

“What color are we doing next?”

“Hm?” you hum, peeling your gaze from the excited look on Inumaki’s face as he revealed a new microphone, and focusing on the man beside you.

“For the first day of class, what color should we match with then?”

A grin breaks across your face and you admire his eyes for a moment. “Maybe sky blue?”

thank you so much for reading this installment of holiday hoes! i had so much fun writing this gojo one hehe

i have suguru -> yuta -> choso next before this mini series ends & i'll be doing chapters for my longer fics (L, Aizawa) in between

likes/comments/reblogs all appreciated

-oatmeal

✌︎('ω')✌︎

[sleep-0-deprived]

⋆˚࿔Brahms Heelshire thoughts~!𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Taglist: @asher-is-hotxp @unstab1eperson2 @kimisbunny @yyuinaa @silvern1006

A/N: jus some thoughts N’ personal feels bout one of ma fav boys, N’ written specifically for @creepy141dollie <33

𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚—𝜗𝜚

Personally I like thinkin Brahms S’ a big Ol baby, he’s touch starved at’ death N’ when you’re his new baby sitter all he can wonder as’ why’re you a boy? Where’s his nanny at…he’s silent as always creeping through in the walls just watchin the way you do things- he can’t deny how good ya are at all tha domestic stuff, house hubby material S’ what he first thought when he seen ya. You’re a sassy man he can tell that much bout you from the way you scold him and push out your bottom lip when lookin up at him, he doesn’t know how you made it past his old fashioned parents- maybe ya charms work on everyone.

Brahms S’ a total creep, he gives no privacy he stalks ya like a dog, he lurks even when ya ask him not to, he is obsessed all tha time- his infatuation holds no bounds N’ he isn’t afraid T’ watch your most intimate moments in tha shower or when you touch ya’self, Brahms hates when you lecture him, talkin bout how you wont let his cock near you sayin stuff like, “I only reward good boys” even tho knowin you, you’d start T’ feel bad N’ give into him by the end of the night— how could ya not with the way he begs you, his voice cracks N’ you can practically feel his tears behind that porcelain mask.

Bein his babysitter means giving up your life- he’s crazy N’ he’s toxic for you but you can’t bring yourself to leave him…you jus feel bad- he holds you an’ praises you like a god when he wants but he screams N’ throw fits over you when he’s upset— Y’ know you should runaway but you jus can’t- you’re in too far now anyway S’ why even bother to try N’ leave him? Ever since you took that job everything feels cold- the air, Your body N’ it’s all porcelain like, just like his mask. You used T’ love shopping but the most you do is go out into town T’ pick up groceries then ya go back to Brahms…that house has made you isolated from th’ world N’ Brahms doesn’t care at all, he jus wants you to himself.

Brahms is a manipulator, he uses your soft spots to get his ways, he promises all ya wanna hear jus to get you T’ stay. Brahms acts all innocent like he isn’t tha reason for your change in personality N’ he isn’t the reason you’re starting T’ slowly lose that sass, he’s worn ya down into a tired parent like person. Brahms uses his tears T’ wrap you around his finger knowin you can’t resist the way he clings to you like a god, Brahms worships the ground you walk on when you give him what he wants which is to ultimately have you forever.

Brahms S’ pent up all the time, sneakin off into your room when he needs tha love, not Carin bout anything jus getting your shorts down enough T’ shove his dick in ya while you sleepily hiss into the pillows whining bout how he’s bein rough- Brahms whimpers- he try’s ta be quiet but when your hole sucks him back N’ he loses it like a puppy poutin and moaning away on top of you clutching onto you hard while his hips erratically fuck you in ya sheets

Brahms fav position is cowgirl tho it should probably be cowboy W’ you on top- your hand gripping his shoulders working up N’ down taking his cock with ease while his eyes hold contact W’ yours- his breath is shaky N’ he can’t control how weak he feels but somethin bout his fave being covered starin into your soul the whole time has ya buckin down on his cock wildly “please- please, I need you, only you- just you- please” your body melted when those words left his mouth oh so pathetically- how could this be the same man who broke you down? How could he.. before you know it his semen S’ floodin inside you filling ya all full.

[hederasgarden]

Memorias

Summary: Late at night you and Lucius share memories of the lives you once lived.  Pairing: Lucius Verus x F!Reader Word Count: 1.1K Rating: 18+ only. Angst, mentions of spousal death, some humor and grief.  A/N: This story is part of Lucius and the Fisherman's Wife series. It takes place between Ab Initio and Post tenebras lux. Thank you to my dearest B and @ryebecca for looking this over. Inspired by this ask. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Gladiator Masterlist ♡ Masterlist

It's late, and the cool autumn evening seeps into the small cell you share with Lucius, bringing with it a chill that settles in your bones. From your place on the narrow cot, you watch him cup the flickering candle flame and extinguish it with his breath, plunging the room into a hazy, blue-tinged darkness. The bed dips and creaks as he sits, removing his sandals. You turn onto your other side, facing the wall to make room for him to slide in behind you. It’s a tight fit in a bed meant for one person. 

His bulk shifts the bed as he settles and his arm drapes across your side and stomach. You sigh, grateful for his warmth. The first time you’d shared a bed like this had been awkward and tense, your sleep restless and uneasy. The only person you’d ever been so close to in this way was your husband, and it had felt wrong to have Lucius so near. But the past few months had altered so much, and though you'd never admit it aloud, you find comfort in his closeness, in his touch. It’s a silent reminder that you’re not alone anymore.

You both adjust yourselves a few more times before finding a position that offers some comfort, even as the straw of the bed jabs into your skin and the thin, threadbare blanket provides little warmth. As you begin to drift off, Lucius's breath stirs the back of your head, soft and uneven. Then, a groan escapes him, a low sound of pain from the brutal toll the arena has taken on his body. You reach back instinctively, your fingers grazing his hip in a silent question.

"I am well," he reassures you, his voice rough but steady.

You fall silent again, blinking sleepily at the wall, but after a moment, his voice breaks the stillness. "You have been quiet today," he observes.

You don’t answer him at first, weighing whether to share your thoughts. You know that if you brush him off, he won’t push. He’ll leave you alone, but tonight, you find, you don’t want that.

"The memories are...close today," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lucius shifts behind you, moving to wrap his thick fingers around your forearm where it rests against the bed. The gentle pressure of his touch brings tears to your eyes, and you quickly blink them away,

"Tell me about them," he says, his tone gentle. “If you wish.”

“I do not know where to start,” you admit. 

"Something happy, perhaps?"

You exhale slowly, his suggestion tugging an unexpected memory to the surface.

"I was not always a fisherman’s wife," you begin, your gaze fixed on the uneven stone wall. "I was a merchant's daughter, destined for a different life. But then...I met him."

The thought of your husband is both painful and beautiful. He seems so young in your memories, even though you only lost him a short time ago. 

“I was never supposed to marry someone like him,” you continue. “But I loved him. Gods…” You let out a soft, watery laugh, a mix of sorrow and affection. “And his family took me in like I was theirs all along.”

Lucius’s fingers trace the soft skin of your wrist in a comforting, quiet gesture that urges you to continue.

"I knew nothing about mending nets, or preparing and cooking fish, but they taught me everything. One night..." You pause, a lump forming in your throat as the memory comes back in sharp detail, the simple joy of it nearly too much to bear. "I wanted to make dinner for everyone. To show my thanks. I spent hours preparing the fish, the sides, everything. But..." You hesitate, a small, embarrassed smile tugging at your lips. "I was not exactly the best at deboning the fish, you see..."

"You left a few bones in?" Lucius’s voice is soft, a teasing edge to it. 

“More than a few,” you admit with a laugh. "Not that anyone said anything at the time. They just quietly spat them out. I did not find out until later when he told me. I was mortified."

Lucius chuckles, a masculine, rich sound. “Perhaps I should humble myself with a story of my own,” he suggests, his tone light. “If only to make you feel better.”

“Oh, yes. That would certainly help,” you reply, turning over to face him. 

You’re close enough that your nose brushes against his, and you both breathe the same air. Your hands curl instinctively against your chest while his rests firmly on your hip. Your legs have tangled together and yet neither of you pulls away. There’s no discomfort in this closeness, it’s nothing compared to the intimacy you’re compelled to share during the day to sell your lie.

“It was when I was courting Arishat,” Lucius begins, his voice dipping into a more serious tone, though there’s still a glint of humor in it. “I was young, hardly yet a man. But I wanted to prove to her, and her family, that I was worthy. The problem was, I knew nothing of farming.” He pauses. “Absolutely nothing.”

“Oh?” You question, waiting for him to continue. 

“I rose early, before anyone else so I could complete all the chores by myself. I fed the chickens, collected the eggs, and saw to it that the pigs were well cared for. I even thought to milk the goat. But there was one problem. I did not know the difference between a male goat and a female one.”

To your surprise, a laugh bubbles up from your chest, one you quickly stifle with a hand over your mouth. Your shoulders shake and a rush of something light and airy courses through you, a feeling that’s both foreign and welcome after all this time.

“Arishat got a good laugh out of it too,” Lucius says, sounding aggrieved though you know he’s likely just as amused. It’s too dark to see his expression clearly, but you catch the flash of his teeth and know he’s smiling at the memory.

The two of you lapse into silence after his story, and without thinking, you shift closer. Lucius responds instinctively, pulling you in, his palm settling gently between your shoulder blades as he rolls on to his back. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing.

Sharing the memories of your husband feels oddly comforting; each time you do, he seems a bit less distant, his presence warmer, more alive. It’s as painful as it is reassuring. You blink away the emotion that stirs in your chest and exhale, the heaviness easing just a little. No matter the horrors the daylight hours might bring, you know that you and Lucius will always have these moments to hold onto.

♡

My inbox is open for your thoughts on this story, requests for drabbles with Lucius and further scenes with Lucius and the Fisherman's Wife

[shomatoriashi]

01/09/25; 09:25pm

sung jinwoo x fem.reader

[ drabble | fluffshot ]

you had lost your voice in the midst of suffering from a severe cold, rendering you unable to speak. along with your inability to speak, each time you swallowed, there was a burning sensation felt in your throat, further accentuating your feelings of helplessness.

as you lay beneath the covers of your bed, chills would surround your form, sleep evading you as the congestion made your head feel heavier as it pounded within your temples. all you could manage was a series of painful whimpers as tears of frustration would run down your cheeks.

“there’s no need to cry, love.” your eyes go wide, recognizing the sound of his voice as you slowly sat up in bed. the shadows seemed to lengthen from the corner of your room, growing until it takes up half the wall as a tall figure steps out from it.

ebony locks of hair-

and grey eyes now glowing a gentle lilac as they met your gaze-

it was jinwoo… your jinwoo.

dressed in his usual dark dress shirt and pants, he steps into your bedroom with a look of adoration settled in his eyes. he sees your face painted in misery and takes quick strides towards you, taking you in his arms while surrounding you in his warmth.

you shiver against him, clinging to the front of his shirt while letting out a series of coughs. yet jinwoo doesn’t turn away from you or express any disgust, simply rubbing comforting circles around your back as he allows your coughing fits to pass.

thank you, you tried to tell him after your coughs, yet no sound comes out of your parted lips. you try to speak again, only for jinwoo to place a finger against your chapped lips.

“you don’t need to thank me for being here, my love. after all, it’s what lovers should do.”

your eyes widen in response to his words. how did he know what you wanted to tell him?

as if reading your thoughts, a playful smirk graces his features (making your heart race in response to how beautiful it made him appear) when he leans closer to press a kiss against your forehead, “i know you like the back of my own hand, love.”

giving you one last kiss, he suddenly stands from your bed, stretching while telling you, “i’ll go ahead and make some soup for you, then i’ll help you take your meds and let you rest.”

before he could take another step, you immediately reach out to him, gripping at his wrist to keep him from moving forward. he meets your gaze, calm grey meeting your dazed expression. you purse your lips and try once more to speak.

stay?

jinwoo’s eyes gently narrow in response to your silent plea, with him giving you a nod as he returns back into bed with you. getting beneath the covers, you scoot over to make room for him, letting out a pleased hum when jinwoo lays down with you. the moment he wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you oh so much closer to him, you bask in his warmth while hiding your face within his chest.

and with the sounds of jinwoo’s two, steady heartbeats echoing within your ear, you drift off into a peaceful slumber with the intensity of your cold slowly wearing off…

end notes: my cold has gotten a little better, but it’s still here bothering me, specifically my cough ｡ﾟ(TヮT)ﾟ｡ so i wrote a comfort fic with my beloved green flag mc jinwoo 🥹 i love you jinwoo, and what i wouldn’t give to have you spoil me with your cuddles while im feeling so sick 🥹 ♡ also, i wrote this in 20 minutes, so it’s nothing too serious and may have errors in it.

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[cherryhazee]

Knock, Knock...It's Complicated | Nico H.

Summary: Savannah and Nico were supposed to keep it simple: neighbors, friends, and a little fun behind closed doors. But love doesn’t knock before it moves in.

Warnings: Mature language and explicit sexual content. +18

wc: 11.5k

Savannah adjusted her grip on the oversized box, her arms already trembling from the weight. Moving into her new apartment had sounded like a fresh start, a chance to embrace independence and make things her own. But as she wrestled the box up the narrow staircase, silently cursing the out-of-service elevator, she began to suffer her long-awaited independent life.

She finally reached her door on the third floor, juggling the box and her keys as she tried to unlock it. The door creaked open, revealing a space that was still mostly empty, an unassembled bookshelf leaning against one wall, a stack of unopened packages near the window, and a single folding chair sitting awkwardly in the middle of the room.

With a heavy sigh, Savannah dropped the box onto the floor and grabbed her phone, scrolling through the delivery notifications. Her brows furrowed as she spotted one marked as delivered, a large package, supposedly a housewarming gift from her best friend Claire, but it was nowhere to be found.

She groaned, sinking into the folding chair. “Great. Day one, and I already lost something.”

Just as she was debating whether to call the delivery company, there was a knock at the door. Savannah jumped, startled, and opened it to find a tall guy standing there, holding a massive box. His dark hair was a little tousled, and his fitted T-shirt suggested he spent more time at the gym than most.

“Is this yours?” he asked, his voice carrying a faint accent that caught her attention before anything else. Her gaze shifted to the box he held, tilted just enough for her to notice the torn tape along the top.

Savannah’s eyes widened as she spotted the package. “Oh my God, yes! I’ve been waiting for that. Where did you…wait.” Her cheeks reddened. “Did you open it?” she said while glancing at the contents of the box.

The guy scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. “Uh… yeah. It got delivered to my door, and I thought it was my order. I’ve been waiting for some gym stuff, but… I’m guessing this isn’t mine.” he said while sneaking a glance at the plethora of intimate toys her oh-so-comical best friend had sent her.

Savannah felt heat rush to her face, her entire body flushing, but she quickly recovered, muttering, “Well, that’s one way to make a first impression.” She chuckled nervously, hoping to shake off the embarrassment.

She stepped aside, gesturing for him to bring the box in. As he slid it inside, her gaze shifted to the partially assembled bookshelf in the corner. She hesitated, then decided to take a chance. “Hey, uh… You wouldn’t happen to be good at putting furniture together, would you? Because this thing has been testing my patience all afternoon.”

He glanced at the bookshelf and grinned. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”

Savannah crossed her arms, playing along. “Cold pizza. And my eternal gratitude.”

“Deal,” he said “I’m Nico, by the way.”

“Savannah,” she replied, stepping aside to let him in.

And just like that, her chaotic first day in her new building took an unexpected turn.

–

A few days had passed and she’d caught her thoughts drifting back to him more often than she cared to admit. She told herself it didn’t matter. They’d had one random afternoon together, filled with small talk and friendly banter as he assembled her bookshelf. It wasn’t like they’d exchanged numbers or made any plans to hang out again.

But still, there was something about Nico that lingered in her mind.

Every time she passed his door, she couldn’t help but glance at it, wondering if he was home. But it seemed he was rarely there.

The peculiar pattern of his exits and entries to his apartment caught her attention the most. On the rare occasions she caught sight of him, he was either leaving early in the morning, a sleek suitcase in hand and dressed sharply in a suit, or returning late at night, his tie loosened and a wearied look etched on his face. The Nico she’d met, with his easy grin and sweatpants, felt worlds away from this polished, professional version of him. And that mystery, that contradiction, only made her more curious.

What kind of job keeps someone out for such long periods? She wondered. Her mind raced through possibilities. Corporate lawyer, investment banker, or maybe something more mysterious.

But the thought persisted, gnawing at her in quieter moments. It was very clear he worked out but how could someone with his schedule make time for it? Was he a…? Her lips quirked up at the absurdity of it. Nah, her dirty mind wandered too far, she scolded herself. Still, the mystery of Nico lingered, teasing her with its unanswered questions.

“Okay, Savannah, calm down. He’s probably just an accountant or something,” she muttered to herself.

Still, as the hours ticked by and she heard the unmistakable sound of his door closing late at night, she couldn’t stop wondering.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later that Savannah encountered Nico again. She had just finished her morning run, earbuds still blasting a playlist her best friend Claire had shared with her. Her legs ached as she trudged into the apartment building’s lobby, sweat clinging to her skin like golden droplets dampening her tank top.

She had envisioned her shower, a paradise of hot water washing away her morning sweat, but her plans were put on hold the moment she saw him.

Nico.

He stood casually, his tall frame leaning slightly as he scrolled through his phone. His dark hair was covered in a white beanie, slightly messy and sitting in a way that looked both unintentional and perfectly styled.

Savannah’s steps faltered, her pulse inexplicably quickening, though she assured herself it was just the aftermath of her run.

He glanced up and met her eyes, a slow grin spreading across his face. For a brief moment, his gaze dipped, lingering on her chest as it heaved up and down from her quick breaths. When his gaze returned to her face, a faint flush crept into his cheeks, his grin turning a little sheepish. “Hey, neighbor.”

Savannah tugged out her earbuds, striving for nonchalance. She noticed the quick slip of his gaze but decided not to say anything, opting instead to greet him back. “Hey yourself. Long time no see.” The realization made her body feel warmer, a heat that had nothing to do with her recent run.

Nico chuckled, tucking his phone into his jacket pocket. “Yeah, I’ve been busy. You know how it is.”

She arched an eyebrow playfully. “Actually, I don’t. You’re like a ghost. Makes me wonder if you even live here,” she chuckled.

“I do,” he said with a teasing smirk. “But you’re right. I’m not around much. Work keeps me on the move.”

There it was again—the mystery of his job.

“What kind of work keeps you out all hours?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Let me guess…part of the mafia?” She said playfully, although she truly wanted to know what he did.

Nico laughed, a low, genuine sound that made her smile despite herself. “I’m flattered you think I’m that interesting.”

“You’re dodging the question,” Savannah pointed out in a sing-song voice, stepping closer.

He shrugged, his grin playful but evasive. "I do a little bit of everything. Let’s just say it keeps me on my feet and takes me to a lot of different places.”

“Vague. Very mysterious.” Savannah tilted her head, studying him. “You could just say you’re a hitman and get it over with.”

Nico barked a laugh. “Is that what you think?”

“I don’t know what to think.” She bit her lip, then decided to press further. “You disappear for days, you leave at the crack of dawn, and you’re always dressed like you just closed a million-dollar deal. It’s suspicious.”

“Maybe I’m just a workaholic.”

“Maybe.” She let the word hang between them, a playful challenge.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Nico leaned against the wall again, his gaze never separating from hers. “You’ve been keeping an eye on me, haven’t you?”

Savannah felt a blush creeping up her neck. “I wouldn’t exactly say that.”

“Sounds like you’ve noticed my schedule pretty well.” His smirk deepened, teasing. He had dimples! Could this man get any more attractive?

“Well, you’re hard to miss. It’s not like I’m spying through the peephole.”

“Good to know.” He straightened, closing the distance between them. His voice softened, losing some of its playful edge. “I’m not trying to be mysterious, Sav. I just…my job’s just…complicated.”

She caught the shift in his tone with a hint of vulnerability. It piqued her curiosity even more, but she decided not to push. Instead, she smiled lightly. “Well, if you ever need a cover story, hitman is a good one.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

They stood there for a moment longer, Savannah found herself wondering what it would be like to know the mystery of Nico, to know more than just the surface-level details, or maybe even more.

Finally, Nico gestured toward her. “You’ve been running?”

“Yeah. Trying to keep up with New Year’s resolutions.”

“How’s that going?”

“I’m sweaty and exhausted. So… great?” She grinned.

Nico chuckled. “Need any help with those resolutions?”

Savannah tilted her head. “What kind of help are we talking about?”

“I’m pretty good at motivating people. I could be your accountability partner.”

She laughed. “You’re barely home. How would that work?”

“We could start with running together when I’m in town.” His voice held a hint of sincerity beneath the teasing.

Savannah’s heart gave a little flutter. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” he echoed, his tone playful.

“I’ll think about it,” she said, already picturing their next encounter.

–

Turns out that maybe was an absolutely.

The next time Nico had been in the city, Savannah had found herself standing in the lobby of her building nervously checking her watch. She was a few minutes early, but the butterflies in her stomach made it feel like she’d been waiting for hours. Her sneakers felt unusually tight as she fidgeted with the hem of her jacket, trying to calm the nerves dancing in her stomach.

She’d told herself it was just a run, nothing more. But with Nico, things always felt a little more… charged.

"You made it," he said, his voice warm, but with a subtle edge. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he came closer, the space between them shrinking with every step.

Savannah couldn’t help but feel the heat rise to her cheeks. She was suddenly acutely aware of the way his presence seemed to fill the room. She straightened up, trying to push away the uneasy flutter in her stomach. "Just barely," she replied, forcing her voice to sound casual. "I almost thought you wouldn’t show."

"Wouldn’t dream of it." He stopped a few inches in front of her, so close she could feel the heat of his body radiating toward her. There was a flash of something in his eyes, something that made her heart race a little faster but she couldn’t figure it out just yet.

Before she could respond, Nico stepped closer, his hand brushing lightly against her arm as he adjusted her jacket. It was a simple gesture, nothing that should have meant anything but the way he did it, so effortlessly, made her pulse quicken.

Savannah took a breath, trying to push down the sudden rush of awareness. She looked at him, her voice teasing but more strained than she wanted it to be. "Hope you’re ready to keep up with me.”

His gaze flickered to her lips for just a second before he met her eyes again, the smile on his face a little tighter now. "You might have to back up those words," he said, his tone low, as if daring her to make the first move.

She swallowed hard, feeling the tension simmering between them. She tried to shake off the feeling, focusing instead on their run. "Let’s get to it, then," she said, stepping toward the door.

–

The run had been intense. Savannah could feel the sweat sticking to her skin, the rhythm of her heartbeat still echoing in her ears as she and Nico finished the last stretch. Her legs ached, but there was something about the proximity between them that made it all feel worth it.

They slowed as they reached their building, neither of them quite willing to break the silence, though the air between them was thick with tension. They entered the lobby together, Nico falling into step beside her as they made their way toward the elevator.

Savannah pushed the button, the soft ding of the arriving elevator filling the air, but she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something had shifted.

Nico was standing just a little too close, his presence so palpable it made her skin feel hypersensitive. She could almost feel the warmth radiating from him, his steady gaze tracking her every movement. She wanted to look away, but her eyes stayed locked on his.

The elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. Nico moved beside her, just enough for their shoulders to brush as he reached for the button. The contact sent a pulse of heat through her, and she fought to keep her breathing steady.

The elevator ride felt like it took forever, each floor passing with agonizing slowness. Nico was quiet, but there was something in the way he stood, close enough that his body heat lingered in the air around her, making the space feel far smaller than it was. His gaze remained on her, his eyes flicking to her lips for a moment before returning to her face, as if he couldn’t decide whether to say something or just… wait.

Savannah tried to focus on the numbers above the door as they passed each floor, but her mind was elsewhere. She could feel the tension hanging thick between them, an unspoken understanding that neither was willing to address. She knew that Nico wasn’t just here for the run. There was something more.

When the elevator finally reached her floor, the doors slid open with a soft chime. Nico stepped out first, but he didn’t move immediately. He turned to face her, and for a moment, the silence stretched between them, almost unbearable.

"Thanks for the run," he said, his voice quiet, almost like an afterthought. But there was an edge to it, something laced with meaning.

Savannah swallowed, her heart still pounding in her chest. "Anytime," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

They walked down the hall to their respective apartments, and when they reached the doors, Nico stopped just behind her. The way he lingered, his presence too close for comfort, made Savannah’s breath catch in her throat. She fumbled with the keys, her fingers suddenly clumsy, as the air around them crackled with unspoken words.

Before she could unlock the door, Nico's hand reached out, brushing against her wrist. The touch was soft but deliberate as if he was testing her reaction. His fingers barely grazed her skin, but it felt like an electric jolt.

Savannah’s pulse skipped. She glanced up at him, meeting his gaze. "You sure you’re just here for the run?" she asked, her voice coming out a little rougher than she intended.

His lips curled into a smile, but there was something darker behind it. "For now," he said, his voice low, almost teasing.

Then, as if the moment couldn’t stretch any further, he stepped back slightly. "But I’ll see you again," he added, his tone now filled with that quiet challenge.

Savannah’s heart was still racing as she finally opened the door, her mind swirling with a mix of anticipation and confusion. But then, before she could close it behind her, an idea struck her.

"Wait," she said, turning to face him. "How about you come in for a little?"

Nico blinked in surprise. His brows lifted in curiosity, a subtle smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "You sure you want me sticking around after a run like that?" He glanced down at her, the teasing in his voice replaced by something more curious.

Savannah shrugged, trying to act casual, though the flutter in her chest betrayed her. “I could use some company to be honest”

He glanced past her, into the half unpacked apartment. There were still boxes stacked along the walls, a few mismatched throw pillows scattered on the couch, and a candle on the coffee table. It was a mess, but it felt warm. Inviting.

Nico studied her for a moment, as if weighing his options, then finally nodded. "Alright. Lead the way."

Savannah stepped aside to let him in, her pulse thrumming in her ears as he brushed past her, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. Her apartment suddenly felt smaller with him standing in the middle of it, looking far too relaxed.

She then cleared her throat, “You want something to drink?” she offered, moving toward the kitchen to break the tension she felt between them.

“Sure,” he said, following her.

She grabbed a jar of water from the fridge and two glasses, but as she turned to hand him one, her fingers brushed against his. The contact was brief, but it sent a spark straight through her. She pulled her hand back a little too quickly, her heart racing in a way she hadn’t expected.

Their eyes met again, and this time, neither of them looked away. The silence stretched, thick with tension. Savannah then broke it by raising her glass in a toast. "To new neighbors?"

Nico’s smirk softened into something warmer as he raised his glass to hers. "To new neighbors."

Their glasses clinked softly.

"So…" Savannah took a sip of water, then arched a brow at him. "What do you do when you’re not accidentally opening very personal packages, Nico?"

His laugh broke the tension, filling the room with something lighter. "Oh, you’re not gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"Not a chance."

Nico shook his head, chuckling as he set his glass down on the counter. “Alright, fair. But for the record, I’m not the one who labeled that box ‘Essential Items.’”

Savannah laughed, her cheeks flushing. “Blame my best friend. She has a twisted sense of humor.”

“I’ll have to thank her sometime,” Nico said, his voice dipping lower, teasing yet steady.

Savannah paused, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. The air between them felt charged, the playful banter giving way to something quieter and more intimate. She looked up, meeting his gaze, and for the first time, she didn’t look away.

Nico leaned back slightly against the counter, his hands resting on the edge. “You’re blushing,” he noted softly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

She rolled her eyes, trying to downplay the heat rising to her face. “I am not.”

“You are,” he insisted, taking a step closer.

Their laughter faded, replaced by the quiet hum of their breathing, the soft flicker of the candlelight casting warm shadows across the room. Savannah felt her pulse quicken as Nico closed the distance between them, his presence somehow both calming and electrifying.

“What’s on your mind?” Nico asked softly, tilting his head as if to read her better.

Savannah swallowed, her words coming quieter this time. “Nothing. Just… thinking.”

“About what?”

About you. The words hovered on the tip of her tongue, but she held them back. Instead, she shrugged, trying to keep things light hiding behind a small smile. “About how I really should’ve paid extra for pre-assembled furniture.”

Nico laughed, a low, warm sound that made her chest tighten. “I can help with more if you want to.”

Savannah set her glass down on the counter, her nerves buzzing. “You keep offering to help me out. What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” Nico said, stepping closer. His voice dropped, quieter but steady. “You are a fun person to be around.”

Her breath hitched. For a moment, neither of them moved, the air between them strained with anticipation.

His hand lifted, hesitating for the briefest moment before brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. His fingertips were warm, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down her spine. “Savannah,” he murmured, her name rolling off his tongue like a question.

She swallowed, her heart racing as she tilted her head to meet his gaze. “Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?,” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

With a small smile, she closed the gap between them, her fingers grazing the hem of his shirt before curling it gently in her grasp. The tension in the air had worn her down, and she finally exhaled a breath, her voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

Nico didn’t hesitate. His hands found her waist, pulling her closer as his lips met hers. Slow at first, testing, before deepening into something hungrier, more certain. Her lips were soft, familiar in a way that shouldn’t have been possible, like they’d always been meant to find his.

Savannah melted into him, her hands sliding up his chest as her heart raced. This wasn’t planned. It wasn’t something they’d discussed. But right now, none of that seemed to matter.

His fingers traced the curve of her back, sending shivers down her spine. Her lips parted, and he took the invitation, sliding his tongue making the kiss deeper. The tension between them coming out in soft gasps and quiet murmurs.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads touching.

“Still thinking about that furniture?” Nico teased, his voice low and rough.

Savannah laughed softly, running her fingers through his hair. “Not exactly.”

Nico's hand traced a slow, deliberate path down Savannah's arm, his fingertips brushing her skin like a question. Her breath caught, the weight of the moment between them feeling like it could snap at any second.

They stood there for a moment longer, neither of them rushing to break the spell.

“Stay,” she whispered.

Nico’s gaze searched hers as if he were looking for any sign of uncertainty. He couldn’t see any.

His thumb grazed her cheek, a soft touch that sent a shiver through her.

An unspoken agreement passed between them, a decision.

“Okay,” he murmured, before leaning in to kiss her again.

This time, there was no hesitation. His lips moved against hers with a slow, unhurried confidence, drawing her in. Savannah’s hands slid up his chest, curling into the fabric of his shirt, holding him close, anchoring herself in the moment. The world outside her apartment faded to a distant hum, leaving only the warmth of Nico, the taste of him, and the way his touch made her pulse quicken.

His hands settled on her waist, steadying her as though she might slip away. She wouldn’t. Not today at least.

Her heart beat faster as Nico guided her toward the couch. They sank down together, bodies fitting naturally, as though they’d done this a hundred times before. His fingers tangled in her hair, cradling the back of her head as he kissed her, slow and sure.

Nico’s lips brushed her temple before trailing down to her neck, his breath warm against her skin. Savannah closed her eyes, her head tilting back to give him more access. Her hands slid under his shirt, palms pressed to his bare back, mapping the expanse of muscle beneath her fingertips.

When his lips found hers again, the kiss deepened, more certain now, as if they both knew there was no going back. Savannah felt the tension in her body ease, replaced by something warmer. But then, just as quickly, the weight of the moment pressed down on her, and she hesitated. She lingered in his embrace for just a beat longer, her hands resting lightly against his chest as if afraid to break the connection.

Finally, she pulled away, slowly sliding off his lap. His gaze followed her, confused, searching for her eyes as if trying to understand what he had done wrong. Savannah’s movements were unsteady, her heart pounding in her chest as her mind raced, looking for something, anything, to say that would make sense of the sudden shift. She searched around her mind but couldn't find anything logical to say other than…

“I… Uhm should shower,” she stuttered out, pointing toward the other side of her apartment, desperate for a moment of clarity.

Nico nodded, still left in the trance from moments earlier.

“Feel free to stay though.”

He hesitated, then seemed to snap himself out of the daze she hadn’t even realized they were both in. “No, no. I will, uh, go to my apartment.” He rose from the couch, his posture a little stiff, but something softer in the way he looked at her. “I’ll see you later.”

She watched him go, the door closing softly behind him, and the quiet settled into a strange, heavy silence.

Days passed, each one dragging its feet as she replayed that moment, wishing things hadn’t ended like that. She wasn’t sure what she had wanted, but it certainly wasn’t the way they left things, awkward and unfinished.

She was still deep in thought when she heard the faint knocking sound at her door. Frowning in confusion, she rose from the couch and made her way to the door. She peered through the peephole, her heart giving a strange leap when she saw who was on the other side.

Nico stood there, holding a bouquet of beautiful flowers, his posture straight, but his expression unreadable.

With a deep breath, she steadied herself and opened the door.

He stood there for a beat, his gaze flicking between her and the bouquet in his hands.

Before she could ask what he was doing there, Nico spoke, his voice low and hesitant. “I didn’t lie when I said I enjoyed being around you. I just…” He trailed off for a moment, searching for the right words. “I guess I wanted to do something to make up for how I left things. I didn’t mean for it to feel so… unfinished.”

“I get it.” Her voice softened sounding more sincere. “I wasn’t expecting anything either. I don’t even know what I expected, to be honest.”

Nico’s shoulders relaxed a little, his chuckle quieter this time. “Yeah. Same. Maybe we both overthought things.”

She glanced at the bouquet, her lips curving into a playful smile despite the nervous flutter in her chest. “You really know how to make a girl panic.”

His expression softened as he shifted the flowers to one hand, a quiet chuckle escaping. “That wasn’t the plan. Honestly.” He handed her the bouquet, a sheepish look crossing his face. “They are meant to be… a peace offering.”

She took them, brushing her fingers over the petals. She still wasn’t entirely sure how to feel, but there was a relief in knowing things weren’t as complicated as she’d feared. “Well, at least they’re pretty.” She smiled, the tension between them easing.

They stood in silence for a beat, her gaze meeting his and holding. The air between them felt different now, lighter and more natural.

“So,” she said, her voice light but curious, “where does that leave us?”

Nico exhaled slowly, his expression thoughtful as his gaze stayed steady on hers. After a moment, his lips curved into a lopsided smile. “I don’t know.” His voice was quieter now, more honest. “Maybe we don’t need to know right now. We can just… see where it goes.”

She considered his words for a moment, her lips curving into a small smile. “I think I can handle that,” she said, her voice playful but honest. “No expectations… just good company and some fun?”

Nico raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

A laugh escaped her, and she shook her head. “You know, I wasn’t sure where this was going, but I think this arrangement might just work.”

What could go wrong? she thought to herself.

Nico nodded, the same smirk still on his lips. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” He took a step closer, his eyes lingering on hers for a moment. “No complications. Just… whatever feels right.”

“Whatever feels right,” she echoed, her heart racing a little at the thought. They didn’t need a label, and they certainly didn’t need to figure everything out just yet.

“Alright, then,” Nico said with a grin. “It’s a deal.”

Savannah let out a soft laugh, leaning back against the door as she eyed him thoughtfully. “Though, I gotta say… the flowers are a bit too much for something casual, don’t you think?”

Nico blinked, caught off guard for a second, before realizing she was teasing him. His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “Yeah. I might have overdone it a little.”

–

Savannah didn’t think much about the deal at first. It was casual and easy. No pressure, no expectations. But over the next few weeks, “whatever feels right” became something more, shared takeout on lazy evenings, quick text exchanges that made her smile in the middle of a busy workday, and Nico slipping into her thoughts more often than she cared to admit.

“Okay, I have to ask,” Savannah said, breaking the silence. “What do you actually do?”

She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she watched Nico from across the couch. He was leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out in front of him, his expression softened by the quiet intimacy of the moment.

The glow from a small lamp casted a warm, golden light over the room, and for once, there was no background noise. No music, no TV, just the comfortable silence they’d fallen into.

Nico raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What makes you think I’m hiding something?”

“Come on. Not this again,” she tossed her head back groaning playfully. ”You can’t just keep me guessing forever.”

Nico shifted, sitting up straighter and rubbing the back of his neck. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a rare vulnerability. “It’s not that I was trying to keep it from you. It’s just…” He took a breath, meeting her gaze directly. “I play hockey,” a hint of nervousness creeping into his expression.

Savannah blinked, trying to process his words. “Like, for fun?”

Nico laughed, the sound low and genuine. “No. Professionally.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh. Like, you’re on a team?”

“Yeah. I play for the New Jersey Devils.”

There was a beat of silence before Savannah burst out laughing. She clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle it, but the whole thing was just too unbelievable to handle.

“I’m sorry,” she said between giggles. “It’s just… I know nothing about hockey. Like, absolutely zero, but sounds fun though.”

Nico’s shoulders relaxed, and he laughed along with her. “That’s probably for the best. Less pressure that way.”

“Okay, hold on,” Savannah said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “So you’re telling me you’re some big-deal athlete, and I’ve been sitting here thinking you were a boring office guy with a gym obsession?”

“Pretty much,” he admitted, a sheepish grin spreading across his face.

She shook her head, still smiling. “This explains so much. The weird schedule, the random trips… and here I was thinking you were running some kind of underground poker ring.”

Nico’s laugh was louder this time, more relaxed. “I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.”

Savannah leaned forward, resting her arms on her knees. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He shrugged, his expression turning thoughtful. “I guess I liked being around someone who didn’t already know. Most people have this idea of who I am before I even say a word. But with you… it felt different. Normal. And I like being around you, it’s easy.”

Her playful smile softened. “Well, I hate to break it to you, but I’m still going to treat you like a normal person. Famous or not.”

“Fair enough.”

Savannah tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Although, I am going to need you to explain hockey to me. I don’t even know how many players are on a team.”

“That’s a good place to start.”

“Great,” she said with a grin. “But if you expect me to learn the whole thing you’re going to have to make it interesting.”

Nico leaned in, his voice low and playful. “Oh, I can do that.”

Savannah felt her heart skip, her pulse quickening at the way his gaze held hers. But before the moment could shift too far, she cleared her throat, leaning back with a teasing smirk. “Good,” she said.

Nico grinned. “But maybe I can make it a little easier for you.”

“How’s that?” she asked, her voice quieter now, her curiosity piqued by the shift in his tone.

Nico shifted closer, just enough that she could feel the warmth of his body. “I’ll take you to a game. Show you what it’s all about. Not as some random fan, but as someone who’s… important.”

Savannah’s breath hitched, her teasing facade slipping for a moment. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his words, nor the subtle invitation behind them.

“Important, huh?” she murmured, trying to keep things light, though her pulse quickened at the way he was looking at her.

“Yeah,” Nico said softly. “You are.”

Savannah leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to match his. “You’re making it hard to focus on hockey, you know.”

Nico’s lips quirked into a crooked grin. “That’s okay. I’m not thinking about hockey right now.”

The space between them shrank, the playful tension from before transforming into something deeper, more electric. Savannah’s heart thudded in her chest as Nico’s fingers brushed her cheek, the touch light but deliberate, testing the waters.

“Sav…” he murmured, his voice a little rough, like he wasn’t sure if he should say more or just close the distance.

She didn’t give him the chance to second-guess. Closing the space between them, Savannah pressed her lips to his in a kiss that started soft but quickly deepened, all the playful banter giving way to something real.

Nico’s hand slipped to her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss grew more insistent. Savannah’s fingers found their way into his hair, tugging gently, and she smiled against his lips when he let out a quiet hum of approval.

When they finally pulled apart, both slightly breathless, Nico rested his forehead against hers, his smile lazy and content.

“So,” he said softly, “does this count as your hockey education?”

Savannah laughed, her cheeks flushed. “Maybe. But I think I’m going to need a lot of lessons.”

Nico’s grin widened. “Good thing I’m a patient teacher.”

“Good thing I’m a quick learner. Now how about you take me to your room,” she breathed out.

Nico wasted no time in lifting her with ease. Savannah let out a soft laugh, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her toward his room.

When they reached his room, Nico pushed the door open with his foot, stepping inside and setting her gently on the edge of the bed. He lingered for a moment, standing before her, his hands sliding down her arms until he was holding her hands in his.

“You sure about this?” he asked quietly, his voice low and rough around the edges, his thumb tracing lazy circles over her knuckles.

Savannah nodded, her gaze steady. “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.”

That earned her a smile, one that sent a pleasant flutter through her chest. He dipped his head, pressing a kiss to her temple, then her cheek, taking his time as he wanted to savor every second. His lips started making their way up her neck, the feeling of his light stubble making her body break out in goosebumps.

Savannah tilted her head, catching his lips with hers again, this time slower and more deliberate. His hands settled at her waist, pulling her closer as they sank into the kiss. There was something unhurried about the way Nico touched her, memorizing the feeling of her, mapping out every curve, and every soft exhale.

Her breaths started to come out heavier as his rough hands made their way under her shirt, caressing the soft skin of her ribs before making their way up to her breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze before lifting her shirt.

How can someone be this beautiful, he thought to himself as he stared at her. The delicate lines of her collarbone shone with the moonlight, the soft rise and fall of her chest, the curve of her waist beneath his hands. Every inch of her told a story, and he wanted to learn every single one of them.

The way she fit against him felt so natural, so right, that it made everything else fade into the background. She was all that mattered in this moment.

Savannah met his eyes, her expression soft but searching, like she was trying to figure him out. Whatever she saw made her lips curve into a small smile, one that made his chest tighten.

“Nico…” she whispered, her voice quiet, but he felt the way it lingered between them.

He leaned in, kissing her slowly, savoring the way she responded, her hands sliding over his shoulders, pulling him closer.

He let his tongue ran through the seam of her lips asking for permission, groaning into the kiss as she gave him access.

Her hair spilled across the pillow when he guided her down, the soft glow from outside filtering into the room, casting shadows over her skin. The sight of her relaxed, trusting, and here with him stole his breath.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her cheek.

Her fingers tangled in his hair, a quiet laugh escaping her. “Then don’t.”

His lips trailed down her body, starting at her neck with a few soft open-mouthed kisses before moving to the curve of her chest, where they lingered in the gentle valley between her breasts. He continued to her stomach, her muscles tensing under his touch as he placed a few soft kisses. She might not have noticed them if not for the way her stomach tightened in response, a thrill shooting through her, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

When he reached the space between her thighs he took his sweet time savoring every moment. His mouth gave bites and kisses along her inner thighs while he ran a finger along the waistband of her underwear.

“Could you stop teasing and hurry up,” she managed to utter.

“With pleasure,” he smiled leaning in, parting her with his tongue. Hearing the soft whimpers of his name coming from her mouth made his body feel a hundred times hotter. He could stay here forever if possible. She tasted like heaven.

“Nico,” she whimpered, “… please.”

He didn’t have to be told twice. He slid a finger, feeling her core twitch with satisfaction. When she was ready he slid in another, arching them to create more pleasure while sucking her bundle of nerves into his mouth.

“Th-there,” her words came out breathless, arching her back to meet his mouth while gripping at his hair, getting a grunt in response.

“Nico, I’m gonna-” his name came out of her mouth with a cry, feeling her orgasm run through her body clenching her core around his fingers.

He pulled out his fingers and then moved his mouth to her inner thigh, cleaning her release from his chin with it before licking it clean. Fuck, that was the hottest thing she’d seen a man ever do.

“C’mere,” his voice brought her back from the trance she was in.

Their lips connected one more time, a hum coming out of her mouth when she tasted herself on his tongue. “Guess you’re good at other things besides building furniture.”

“Also. I already feel the beard burn begin to form,” she winced playfully.

He laughed against her lips, letting himself get lost in her warmth, her laughter, and the way she whispered his name like it was something only meant for him.

–

Making this deal was a terrible idea. He should’ve just told her about his feelings, but he wasn’t sure about them at the time. Now? Now he was utterly screwed.

He couldn’t even focus properly on a game. Every time he laced up his skates or stepped onto the ice, she was in his mind. The way she laughed when he couldn’t figure out how to assemble her bookshelf. The way her lips curled into a teasing smile when she caught him sneaking glances at her during a conversation. Even the scent of her shampoo lingered in his memory far longer than it should have.

It wasn’t just during games either. At night, when he returned to his empty apartment after practice or a game, he’d glance at his couch and remember how they’d sat there, talking late into the evening. He’d replay their conversations in his head and the moment that had followed.

Then there were the moments in between. Random thoughts of her would strike him when he least expected it. Walking through the grocery store, he found himself lingering in the baking aisle, remembering how she mentioned she loved to bake when she was stressed. During team meetings, he’d zone out, recalling the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her favorite books. Even at the gym, he wondered if Savannah would appreciate the effort he put into his workouts. It was not that he needed any more motivation to stay in shape, but now it had a whole other purpose besides hockey.

Nico sighed, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the bar counter, the music vibrating through the club. The team had dragged him out tonight, insisting he needed to blow off some steam. Clearly, they didn't know how much he had been releasing lately thanks to a certain someone.

“Looks like you could use some company,” a high-pitched voice cut through the noise, interrupting his thoughts.

He glanced to his left and found a woman standing there, leaning casually against the bar. Her dress shimmered under the lights, and her smile was practiced. When he didn’t immediately respond, she tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear and angled her body toward him, closing the space between them.

“I’ve seen you around,” she added, her voice low and playful. “Figured I’d finally say hi.”

Nico forced a polite smile, nodding once. He wasn’t in the mood to chat, let alone flirt with another woman, but he knew the guys were watching from across the room. If he brushed her off too quickly, he’d never hear the end of it.

“Hey,” he said simply, taking another sip of his drink.

She leaned in closer, her perfume overwhelmingly sweet. “You don’t talk much, do you? That’s okay. I like a bit of mystery.” Yeah, sure.

Without meaning to, his gaze drifted past the woman, scanning the room like maybe just maybe, Savannah would be there. Which was ridiculous. She wasn’t. He knew exactly where would she be tonight. Probably at home getting lost in a book. Maybe that’s where he wanted to be too.

The woman in front of him tilted her head, her smile faltering when she noticed his distraction. “Am I boring you?”

Nico blinked, snapping back to the moment. “No. Sorry. Just… a lot on my mind.”

Her lips curved again, but there was something more calculated behind the expression now. “Well, maybe I can help take your mind off it.”

God. No.

He shook his head slightly, offering a tight-lipped smile. “I appreciate it, but I’m good.”

The woman’s expression faltered for a split second before she shrugged it off, her demeanor effortlessly cool. “Suit yourself.” She picked up her drink and walked off, her heels clicking against the floor.

Nico exhaled, dragging a hand down his face.

A voice called his name from behind him, Jack grinned as he came closer. “Dude, what was that? She was all over you.”

Nico shot him a look. “Not my type.”

“Not your type?” His teammate snorted. “You’ve got a type now?”

“Excuse me,” A woman’s voice close to them interrupted their conversation.

“A tequila soda, please,” the owner of the melodic voice said to the bartender.

Nico’s head snapped to the side before he could stop himself. His eyes landed on the woman now standing beside him, her silk smooth dark hair falling in waves over her shoulder, her back turned to him as she leaned on the bar.

That voice.

Wait. Was that���?

No way.

The bartender slid the tequila soda toward her, she thanked him sliding the cash with a small smile before turning slightly, just enough for Nico to catch a glimpse of her profile.

Jack raised an eyebrow, glancing between Nico and the woman. “Something wrong?”

Nico didn’t answer.

“Seriously, man,” Jack smirked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I feel like I have.

Before Nico could muster the courage to say anything, Savannah finally turned, freezing the second her eyes locked on his.

“Nico?” Her voice was soft, almost disbelieving.

“Sav. Hey,” His voice came out rough, his heart pounding in his chest.

Her lips parted, surprise flashing across her face before she broke into a smile he knew too well, the kind that made his pulse race in ways he wished it wouldn’t.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, stepping closer, her drink still in hand.

“I, uh… the guys dragged me out tonight.”

Jack leaned in, grinning from ear to ear. “So… are you going to introduce me to your friend?” he said while looking at Nico.

Nico sighed while pinching his brows, “This is Savannah. Sav, this is-”

Jack, never one to miss an opportunity, stuck out his hand with a broad grin. “Jack. I’m his cooler, more charming teammate.”

Savannah chuckled, shaking his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jack.”

“Likewise.” Jack glanced at Nico, his grin widening. “You didn’t mention Savannah was your type.”

Nico groaned, running a hand down his face. “Jack-”

Savannah’s smile softened, her gaze lingering on Nico. “I don’t know about that,” she teased, taking a sip of her drink. “But I’m flattered.”

Jack gave Nico a final nudge before stepping away. “I’ll leave you two to catch up. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He threw a wink at Savannah before disappearing into the crowd.

“He doesn’t know does he?” she laughed.

“Nope,” he said, emphasizing the ‘p’ with a light pop.

Savannah raised an eyebrow, swirling her drink idly. “So… what did he mean by that? The whole ‘type’ thing?”

Nico cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “It’s… nothing.”

“Oh, come on.” She gave him a teasing nudge. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re avoiding something.”

He huffed out a breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “Some woman was hitting on me earlier.”

Savannah’s lips twitched, “And?”

“And Jack wouldn’t shut up about it.” Nico rolled his eyes, picking up his glass and taking a sip. “He asked if I had a type. I said no, and then-”

“Wait.” Savannah held up a hand, biting back a laugh. “You said no?”

Nico frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Savannah leaned against the bar, smirking. “It means I’ve seen the way you look at certain women. You definitely have a type.”

“Do not.”

“You so do.” She pointed her drink at him. “Tall, polished, too much perfume… the type of girl who looks like she belongs in a fancy hotel bar sipping martinis.”

“I’m not interested in them,” he said avoiding looking at her eyes.

“Then who are you interested in?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t sound too hopeful.

He was too scared to admit it to her right now so he decided to evade it, “It’s not that important” he replied faking indifference.

Savannah’s chest tightened at his words.

Not that important

The way he said it, low and distant, sent a flicker of disappointment through her. She hated that it stung, hated that it mattered to her at all. This was supposed to be casual. No expectations, no complicated emotions. That was the whole point of their arrangement.

And yet, there she was, standing at a crowded bar in the middle of New York City, feeling far too invested in Nico’s answer to a question she never should’ve asked.

“Right,” she said lightly, forcing a smile as she lifted her glass. “Classic Nico. Always playing it close to the chest.”

He glanced at her, his lips twitching into a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was tension there, something he wasn’t saying. She could see it, feel it in the way his shoulders tensed and his gaze kept drifting to her before darting away.

It wasn’t the first time she’d noticed it, that subtle shift in him lately. He was off. More quiet, more distracted. More… present in ways he hadn’t been before.

And it was messing with her head.

Savannah took another sip of her drink, trying to shake it off. This wasn’t supposed to be complicated. Nico was just her neighbor-turned-friend-turned-something-a-little-more. That was all.

Except it didn’t feel that simple anymore.

“So…” She cleared her throat, tilting her head toward him. “What did she say? The woman who was flirting with you?”

Nico frowned, clearly surprised by the shift in conversation. “Why do you want to know?”

Savannah shrugged, keeping her tone playful. “I’m curious. Was she any good?”

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Not really.”

“No?” Savannah smiled, hiding the way her pulse quickened at his answer. “Too much? Too little? Not enough charm?”

Nico turned his glass in his hands, his gaze fixed on the ice swirling inside. “She was… trying too hard. I don’t like that.”

Savannah’s smile faltered slightly. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. “So, what do you like?”

The question came out softer than she intended, and for a moment, Nico’s eyes flicked to hers, holding her gaze in a way that made her stomach flutter.

“Something real,” he said quietly.

Savannah’s breath caught in her throat.

Real.

There was something in the way he said it, like he was admitting more than he meant to. Like he was tired of pretending things didn’t matter.

For a second, she thought about pushing him. Asking him to tell her what he really meant. But she couldn’t do it. If he wasn’t ready to admit it, she wasn’t about to be the first to cross that line.

So instead, she kept it light.

“Well,” she said with a teasing grin, tapping her glass against his, “good thing I’m not trying too hard, huh?”

Nico chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No. You’re not.”

Savannah’s heart skipped a beat at the warmth in his voice.

And that scared her.

Because if she wasn’t careful she was going to fall for him, if she hadn’t already.

–

“You told her it didn’t matter!?” Jack’s voice boomed through Nico’s hotel room.

“Look… I-” Nico sighed, running a hand down his face. The exhaustion from travel, practice, and now this conversation was starting to weigh on him. “It’s complicated.”

Jack gave a short, incredulous laugh. “Complicated? Dude, you told Savannah who you’re interested in isn’t that important. And now you’re pissed because she’s acting like she believes you? You can’t have it both ways.” He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes narrowed in frustration. “What did you expect her to do, wait around for you to magically change your mind?”

Nico groaned and sank onto the edge of the bed, head in his hands. “It wasn’t supposed to get this messy.”

“Yeah, well, it is messy. And it’s your fault.” Jack’s tone softened slightly, but his frustration remained evident. “You can’t keep stringing her along like this. It’s not fair to her. Or to you.”

“I know,” Nico muttered, his voice muffled by his hands. “I know it’s not fair. But I’m trying to figure out how to handle it.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Handle it? You’ve had months, man. How much more time do you need to figure out that you’re in love with her?”

Nico’s head shot up, eyes wide. “I’m not-”

“Oh, please.” Jack cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Everyone sees it. The guys in the locker room have bets on when you’re finally going to pull your head out of your ass and tell her. Even Luke thinks you’re being an idiot.”

“Luke?” Nico blinked.

Jack nodded. “Yeah. He said, ‘Nico’s acting like a middle school kid with a crush.’”

Nico let out a shaky breath, the weight of Jack’s words settling heavily in his chest. “I don’t know how to tell her.”

Jack pushed off the doorframe and walked over to sit beside Nico. “Here’s an idea. Start with, ‘Savannah, I have feelings for you. I want more than just this casual thing.’ And then, I don’t know, maybe actually listen to what she has to say.”

Nico shook his head. “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?”

Jack stared at him for a long moment before speaking, his voice steady. “And what if she does? What if she’s just been waiting for you to say something? You won’t know unless you take the risk.”

Silence stretched between them, the hum of the hotel’s air conditioning the only sound in the room. Finally, Nico exhaled slowly and stood up. “You really think I’m being an idiot?”

Jack smirked. “One hundred percent. But you’re my friend, and I want to see you happy. And you won’t be happy until you’re honest with her.”

Nico paced to the window, staring out at the city lights below. His mind flashed back to moments with Savannah, her laugh, the way she rolled her eyes when he made a bad joke, the way her presence had become his comfort in a chaotic world.

Jack’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Stop being scared of what might go wrong. Think about what could go right.”

Nico turned back to face him, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. “Okay. I’ll talk to her when we come back.”

Jack grinned, standing up and clapping Nico on the back. “About damn time.”

Meanwhile, back in Jersey, Savannah sat curled up on her couch, one leg tucked underneath her, staring at the steaming cup of tea in her hands. Outside her apartment window, the city buzzed with life, horns honking, people rushing down sidewalks, the glow of streetlights reflecting off the wet pavement.

But she barely noticed any of it.

Her mind was somewhere else entirely.

Or, more accurately, with someone else.

She sighed, taking a sip of her tea, hoping the warmth would settle the strange fluttering feeling in her chest. It didn’t.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, breaking through her thoughts. She glanced at the screen, smiling when she saw Claire’s name pop up.

FaceTime? I’m bored and need a distraction.

Savannah chuckled softly and rolled her eyes. Typical Claire, never one to sit still for long. She tapped the video call button, and within seconds, Claire’s familiar face popped up on the screen. Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she was wrapped in a cozy sweater.

“Hey, you!” Claire grinned. “Finally, some human interaction. I’ve been stuck inside all day, and I’m losing my mind.”

Savannah leaned back into the cushions. “Sounds rough. A whole day without charming strangers with your sparkling personality? How are you even surviving?”

Claire gasped dramatically, clutching her chest. “Barely. I had to resort to charming my plants.”

Savannah laughed. “I hope they gave you the attention you deserve.”

Claire waved her hand dismissively. “Not enough. But anyway, enough about me. You look distracted.” Her eyes narrowed as she studied Savannah’s face. “What’s going on? Spill.”

Savannah hesitated, chewing on her bottom lip. “It’s… complicated.”

Claire’s expression lit up with excitement. “Oh, I love complicated. Go on.”

Savannah let out a sigh, setting her tea down. “I’ve just… I’ve been thinking about Nico.”

Claire’s grin widened instantly. “Ah, Nico. I was wondering when you’d finally bring him up.”

“It’s not like that,” Savannah said quickly, though even she could hear how unconvincing it sounded.

Claire raised an eyebrow, looking smug. “Oh, it’s totally like that.” She leaned closer to the camera. “You’re into him.”

Savannah groaned, covering her face with her hands. “We’ve been… you know, hooking up. Casually. That’s all.”

Claire snorted. “Yeah, right. Casual. Sure.” She leaned back, her expression knowing. “Let me guess, you’re catching feelings, aren’t you?”

Savannah stayed quiet while biting the corner of her lip nervously, her silence speaking louder than words.

Claire gasped, clapping her hands together. “Oh my God, you are! I knew it. I freaking knew it.”

Savannah groaned again. “Okay, fine. Maybe I am. But it’s a mess, Claire. I don’t even know how he feels, and I’m pretty sure he likes someone else. I just don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Claire rolled her eyes dramatically. “Sav, please. That boy is so into you. I don’t know how you haven’t noticed.”

Savannah frowned. “You really think so?”

“Uh, yeah,” Claire said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And don’t think I forgot about the little mix-up with the box of goodies I sent you.”

Savannah’s cheeks turned pink. “Oh my God, don’t bring that up.”

Claire grinned wickedly. “Why not? That was a brilliant gift, if I do say so myself. Thanks to that you guys met” She tilted her head, pretending to think. “You have used them, right?”

Savannah’s blush deepened. “I’m not answering that.”

Claire’s eyes lit up. “You haven’t! Oh my God, you need to get on that.” She leaned in closer, her expression turning playful. “Seriously, Sav, if you’re not going to make a move on Nico, at least have some fun on your own.”

Savannah laughed despite herself, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious!” Claire said. “Better yet, use them with him. I bet he’d love it.”

Savannah groaned, covering her face again. “Stop.”

Claire just laughed. “What? You’re the one who said things are complicated. Maybe you need to shake things up a bit.”

Savannah lowered her hands, still smiling, but her mind was already drifting back to Nico.

“Honestly, though,” Claire said, her voice softening slightly. “If you like him, you need to tell him. You can’t keep dancing around it forever.”

Savannah sighed. “I don’t know if he feels the same way.”

Claire gave her a pointed look. “Sav. He does. Trust me.”

Savannah stayed quiet, turning Claire’s words over in her mind.

“And,” Claire added with a playful smirk, “if he doesn’t, well… at least you’ll have those toys to keep you company.”

Savannah burst out laughing, shaking her head. “You’re the worst.”

“That’s why you love me.” Claire winked. “Now, promise me you’ll at least think about it.”

Savannah smiled softly. “I will.”

But even after they ended the call, her mind stayed on one thought.

What if Claire was right? What if it was time to stop holding back?

Savannah set her phone down on the coffee table, Claire’s voice still echoing in her head.

You need to tell him.

–

Nico stood outside of Savannah’s apartment. It had been weeks since that conversation with Jack. Weeks of overthinking, rehearsing what he would say, and second-guessing every word. But now, standing in front of Savannah’s door, he realized none of that preparation mattered. He was still nervous as hell.

He took a deep breath, staring at the familiar number on the door. He’d been here so many times before, but tonight felt different. There was a weight in the air, a heaviness that hadn’t been there before.

He raised his hand to knock, then hesitated. What if she wasn’t home? Or worse, what if she didn’t want to see him? They hadn’t seen each other since the club after all.

His hand hovered over the door for a moment before he finally knocked.

A few seconds later, footsteps approached, followed by the soft click of the lock. The door swung open, and Savannah appeared, taking in the sight before her. Nico in sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt. His dark hair was still damp, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower, and the faint scent of his cologne hung in the air.

Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw him. “Nico?”

“Hey.” His voice came out rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Can we talk?”

She crossed her arms, leaning against the doorframe. There was a guarded look in her eyes, but she nodded. “Yeah. Come in.”

Nico stepped inside, taking in the familiar scent of her apartment. It felt like stepping into another world, a world he had missed more than he realized.

Savannah closed the door behind him, her gaze never leaving his face.

Nico frowned as he took in the sight of a plate in the counter. She had been baking, which only meant she was stressed. He had made her feel stressed.

Her eyes followed his gaze to the small batch of cookies she’d baked earlier, sitting untouched on the counter. She’d made them to keep herself busy, to distract her from the growing knot of feelings twisting in her chest.

But no amount of baking, tea, or pacing around her apartment had helped.

The truth was painfully clear now.

She couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine, that their arrangement didn’t mean more to her than it should. She liked Nico. More than liked him. And if he didn’t say something soon, the uncertainty would eat her alive.

“So… what’s up?” She asked him.

Nico turned to face her, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’ve been an idiot.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Go on.”

“I told you who I was interested in wasn’t that important. But that was a lie.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in his voice.

Savannah tilted her head, her heart racing as she tried to read his expression. “A lie?” she echoed, her voice softer now.

Nico nodded, exhaling slowly. “Yeah. It matters a lot more than I wanted to admit.” He glanced down at his hands, fidgeting with the string of his sweatpants before looking back up at her. “I’ve been telling myself that I’m too busy, that I can’t get involved with someone right now. But that’s not the real reason I’ve been holding back.”

“Fear,” he admitted quietly. “I’m afraid that if I let you in, I won’t want to let you go. And that terrifies me. Because you deserve more than someone who’s constantly in and out, juggling a million things.” Wait, was she the one he was interested in?

Her chest tightened at his words. “Nico, you’ve been there for me since day one. You helped me move in, you’ve listened to me ramble about work, you’ve made me laugh when I needed it the most. That’s more than enough for me.”

He shook his head. “I don’t want to be just enough for you. I want to be everything. But I’ve been holding myself back because I was scared of what that would mean.”

Savannah’s eyes softened, and she reached out to gently touch his cheek. “You don’t have to be perfect, Nico. I’m not looking for perfect. I’m just looking for you.”

For a moment, he stared at her, processing her words. Then, with a sudden burst of determination, he closed the distance between them, cupping her face in his hands. “I’ve wanted to hear that for so long,” he murmured before his lips met hers in a soft, tentative kiss that quickly deepened, months of unspoken emotions pouring out in that single moment. Savannah’s arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, while Nico’s hands slid down to her waist, anchoring her to him.

They stumbled toward her bedroom, lips never parting. Savannah tugged at his shirt, and he shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. Her hands explored the planes of his chest, her touch igniting a fire in him that he couldn’t contain.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless.

“So,” Savannah whispered, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “Does this mean you like me?”

Nico laughed softly, pressing his forehead against hers. “More than like. A lot more.”

She grinned. “Good. Because I’ve been falling for you for a while now.”

Nico’s expression turned serious again as he traced his thumb along her cheek. “I want this to work, Savannah. I know my life can be unpredictable, but I want to figure it out with you. If you’re willing to take a chance on me.”

Savannah leaned in, brushing her lips against his once more. “I think we’ve both been waiting long enough. I’m all in.”

Nico’s smile was slow, but it lit up his entire face. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “All in,” he echoed.

He kissed her again, slower this time, savoring every second. His hands slid to her waist, fingertips brushing the hem of her shirt. Savannah leaned into his touch, her breath hitching when his fingers grazed the bare skin of her lower back.

Her hands explored the curve of his shoulders, tracing the lines of his muscles. Nico shivered under her touch, his skin warm and inviting. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull her shirt over her head, tossing it aside before returning to the kiss, his lips finding hers with renewed hunger.

Savannah’s heart pounded as her hands roamed across his chest, memorizing the feel of him. She pressed soft kisses along his jawline, her lips trailing down to his neck. Nico tilted his head to give her better access, a quiet groan escaping him when she nipped gently at his skin.

“Savannah,” he murmured, her name a reverent whisper. “Are you sure?” He cupped her face, his gaze locking onto hers, dark eyes filled with desire but also something new.

Savannah nodded, her lips curving into a soft smile.

“Words, baby.” He whispered between kisses.

“Yes, please.” Savannah smirked. Her quiet confidence unraveled something in him. Nico kissed her again, rougher, his hands sliding to her thighs. He lifted her effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, holding onto him as if afraid to let go.

He carried her to the bed, laying her down gently before leaning over her, their bodies pressed together. Savannah’s fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed her neck, his lips leaving a trail of warmth down her collarbone.

Her pants were the next to go, followed by the rest of their clothes, each layer removed with care, as though Nico was unwrapping something precious. He kissed every inch of her skin, savoring the moment, leaving her breathless beneath him.

Savannah traced her fingers along the curve of his back, admiring the strength in his frame, the tension in his muscles as he held himself above her. She pulled him closer, her lips finding his again in a kiss that was both passionate and tender.

Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word was filled with a sense of urgency, but also with care. Nico’s touch was soft, as if he was memorizing every detail of her, committing her to memory.

They moved together in perfect rhythm, bodies intertwining like they were made for each other. The world outside faded away until all that remained was the two of them, lost in each other.

Afterward, they lay tangled together, Nico’s arm draped over Savannah’s waist, their breathing slowing to match each other’s. He pressed a soft kiss to her temple, his lips lingering there as if he couldn’t quite pull away.

Savannah turned to face him, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. “Still all in?”

Nico caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “All in,” he whispered, his voice steady. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

She smiled, her heart swelling with a warmth she hadn’t known she was missing. “Good,” she murmured, resting her head on his chest. “Because I’m not letting you go.”

Her fingers traced the line of his jaw, the slight stubble rough beneath her touch. “I’m glad it was you who opened that box.”

Nico chuckled, a soft sound that vibrated against her chest. She loved it. “Me too.”

As they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms, Savannah couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was exactly where she was always meant to be.

When the morning light streamed through the windows, they lay tangled together, hearts beating in sync, knowing that this time, there would be no going back.

[unknownperson246]

a/n: Hi if you’re taking requests, can I get one with axl?? Maybe where you’re a long time friend of the band, and everyone is hanging out at axls house. At the end of the night everyone leaves but reader stays cuz her house is pretty far and it’s late. She ends up taking a shower before bed and axl runs into her in the hallway while she’s just in her towel and then just pure smut from there???

Hiiii hope you enjoy thissss 💋

Late At Night:

Words: 1,288

Warnings: *smut* *degrading* *slight dirty talk* *fluff at the end* *aftercare* *p in v* *rough sex* *aggressive axl* *squirting*

✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ:*

You were slumped over on Axl’s couch. You were sitting next to a passed-out Duff. In his alcohol-induced sleep, his skin was pale as snow because he hadn't had anything to eat in a while. Izzy had a half-empty bottle of beer in his hand. Izzy's mind was somewhere else and he had zoned out. His hands were on his lap. His fingers idly tapped his knee every once in a while. Steven was sitting on his couch seat.

Slash was sitting on a chair with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He puffed away every once in a while. The ashtray on the table in front of you was filled by Izzy and Slash alone. Axl was sitting on the floor with his muscular legs crossed. You were bored since no lively conversations were happening. Soon all the guys went home and you stayed over at Axl's place since your place was quite far away and it was late at night. 

“Hey, Axl I'm going to take a shower real quick.” You told him.

He didn't say anything back. He just nodded back to you.  

You hopped into the shower tray and started to rinse your hair and wash off all the grime that got stuck onto your soft skin. You took fifteen minutes and Axl was waiting in his bed. You were still dripping wet. The little sounds of water dripping from your hair annoyed you. You hated it when your hair was wet. You grabbed a separate towel and grabbed your hair. 

You made sure there were no tangles or knots before you wrapped it in your towel. You brushed your hands through your wet hair carefully. You put your hair in the towel. You saw Axl's hairbrush. The small bits of red hair told you it was his. You opened the cabinets and grabbed a clean untouched hairbrush and you brushed it with that once it was damp and not soaking wet.  

You heard loud aggressive footsteps outside of the bathroom door. At first, you thought you were being paranoid and you were imagining this dreadful sound. It made your heartbeat thump and pound at an unimaginable speed. It made you highly strung and alert. Axl sounded like he was pacing around waiting for you.  You wrapped the towel around your body and made sure it fit snugly and comfortably around your body.

Your towel was already half wet. You opened the door and made your way out of the bathroom. Axl wasn’t there anymore. You didn't have a fresh pair of clothes. Your old pair was hanging in the guest bedroom Axl had set for you while you were taking your shower. Soon you bumped into Axl in the hallway.

He was outside of the guest bedroom. He looked like he was finishing setting up. The only thing covering you was a small towel. It only covered you from the top of your breasts to the apex of your thighs. You flinched because you didn’t think he’d be out in this hallway anymore let alone outside of the room you were going into. 

“Sorry, Axl.” You had said with a forced smile. 

All you heard from him was a small grunt.

You walked past him shy and embarrassed. You made sure to cover your chest with your arms while treading fast attempting to get into your room for the night. As you got out of your towel and sat on your bed to put your shirt on Axl walked in. 

“Oh, Axl” You started turning red because you were getting shy.

“Let me see that rack honey” Those were the first words he said to you tonight.

You uncovered yourself bringing yourself to him. This feeling was desire and fueling passion. You were attracted to him. You couldn’t help yourself. You needed him tonight. You couldn’t stop. You knew you wanted him. You know he wanted you. You went to kiss his neck. Slowly you started leaving marks on his chest. 

“So feisty and feral sweetheart.” He groaned in pleasure as he let you all over him. You let him pet your hair as you continued to pleasure him.

You held onto his arms and his chest. You could feel his muscles and body relaxing as you came onto him naked. He removed his boxers. You could see how hard he was. He removed his clothes and he hopped into bed with you. He threw the covers over the both of you to keep warm. He got on top of you.

“Is this your first time experiencing missionary?” Axl asked.

“Yeah. I’m always bent over or someone’s always sucking me.” You said to Axl with passion fueling in your sensitive areas. 

You didn’t want to talk anymore you just wanted to fuck and let Axl do all the work and talking. 

“Oh, Axl” A small moan slipped out as the friction got heavier.

“You feel so good you dumb bitch. I love hearing your noises when I’m inside you.” Axl smiled down at you. 

“You’re always such a loud annoying little bitch. How come you're so quiet now whore?” Axl snarled.

“I see how you always look at Slash. You prefer him over me?” He asked.

“No, I-“ He cut you off as he went more briskly and rougher on your sensitive hole.

“I feel your cunt quivering” Axl chuckled in a mocking tone.

“Axl.” you moaned, feeling the desperate need to hold on to something to secure you. 

Your hands instinctively went to the bedsheets. Your hands gripped solidly. Your fingers started to tremble

He started to squeeze your tit with his right hand. 

“Fuck me harder Axl” Your small cries of joy turned Axl on more. Axl went animalistic on your cunt again.

“Axl I’m going to squirt” You warned him with a loud uncontrollable gasp.

He started to kiss your neck again. You got distracted by his beautiful long red hair. The atmosphere was getting too hot for you so you lifted the sheets to get some fresh cool air. Soon you noticed that his thrusts got sloppy and careless. By the time he had slowed down, you squirted clear liquid all over his torso. 

“I’m going to come in that pretty cunt.” Axl groaned slightly in between kisses. 

You felt gooey hot liquid ooze inside of you. You felt his cock go soft. Axl had pulled out of you. You loved being full of come. Axl's come felt different. It felt more gleeful and gratifying. Perhaps it was because you had wanted him for a long time. 

“I’m going to bed soon” You had announced to him. 

He stayed in bed next to you. He noticed that you grabbed the same clothes you did before you showered. Before you put it on you heard Axl talking to you.

“Drop those clothes,” He said demandingly.

I’ll go get you a t-shirt and some sweatpants of mine.” Axl went over to his room to grab you his baggy loose-fitting clothes.

“Thanks, Axl,” you said with a smile. 

He took your hand and took you to his room.

“We’re sleeping in here. You’re too pretty to sleep in the guest room by yourself.” Axl had pushed you down next to where he usually sleeps. 

“Goodnight Y/N,” He said, playing with your hair.

“Goodnight Ax” Your quick words and innocent nickname caught Axl's attention.

“It’s Axl to you babe” He chuckled and laid down. He wrapped his cold and comfy arm around you.

While you were on the verge of falling asleep you felt his lips attached to your cheek.

“Thanks for making this night the best night in a while.” He whispered in your ear while gently biting your ear lobe. 

[callsign-mustang]

The sergeant was a wily thing. One hell of a soldier, keeping up with Soap and Gaz. Could handle their asses and throw some snark back when given. Had a demeanor like ghost, snarling at any hand offered, thinking it’s raised in violence. Yet, though almost invisible, clings to those very few words of praise given.

Skittish, almost in their aggression. Cold in their professionalism. A good soldier of course- never failing to meet expectations and go above if they absolutely must. Relishing their solitude. -Alone is safe- they remind themselves.

Ghost is the one to offer them up to price, like a guard dog bringing the limp body of their conquest to the feet of their master with that nervous expression. Of course, reader couldn’t see it. Thought it was just the LT trying to make them a better soldier.

-wanna be like you when I’m older, LT.-

Reader standing still, that same raw gleam in their eyes that price recognized from Ghost. (Before he’d tempered him, weathered him to fit his hand like a glove, a sword to wield.) A sense of… ease filling reader when the captain agrees, relenting to Ghost’s request for him to take her under the captain’s wing.

Like a mutt in the pound, unknowingly welcoming the noose around their neck. No clue of the games and tricks price would be playing to keep them docile- complacent.

Scheduled to the captain’s liking, tied to the Lieutenant’s own routine; can’t escape. More training than other soldiers- harder, intense. Almost alarming, the significant drop in free time or rest periods they had between training and marksmanship practice. Break their body, punishments and rewards. Running till they drop, feed them a compliment to feed that little worm he’d put in their skull.

-No energy to give attitude.- price would mumble to Ghost who stood by, remembering his own time trained under Price. He’s using the same tactics he used to ‘tame’ ghost. Now he’s the warden looking in on their shared prisoner who was on mile five with that heavy gear on. Good cop, bad cop. The LT dishing out heavy tasks, making reader struggle to complete them until they’re grasping at straws, begging for help.

Who steps in to comfort with gentle words and open arms? Price, reinforcing the bond between them. Finally treated as something other than a living weapon, more than just a tool to be discarded at the first crack. Reader welcomed it; First time in their life they’re shown decency or compassion. -Cling to it like your life depends on it- the voice in their head whispers and they agree. Not just a martyr in their eyes but someone with purpose.

Becoming malleable like clay in their hands as time goes on. How long? Depends…. Got reader to stop snapping at ghost after five weeks, stopped flinching at Price’s ‘adjustments’ when they’d spar and his fingers would graze the smallest of exposed skin after three months. Stopped clawing at them, didn’t feel like a mutt anymore.

Couldn’t say when it started, but they found themselves getting fewer and fewer punishments. The fact the less harsh treatment started when they stopped fighting them so hard on anything. More sweetly manipulative words from price, ghost brushing against them and getting his timbre scent all on them.

Didn’t mean there weren’t times when old habits would arise, making comments on a stupid plan for their mission. Of course the behavior was usually short lived when it came around. only to find themselves almost coughing their meal up after a brutal sparring match with Ghost. Mumbling apologies, coughing up ‘I’m sorry’s’ after each blow until they accept.

Looking up from their kneeling position with a pretty purple and blue bruise on their cheek. A little drop of crimson from a split lip, the shade matching the color on Ghost’s glove. What a sight… Their cheeks in their Captain and Lieutenant’s gloved hands, skin not touching. Pleading for forgiveness like they were at an altar of their god, pathetic for grace. When it’s given, they finally feel that euphoria the duo had been systematically training reader to crave.

Finally had them after a year- under their thumbs, welcoming the collar around their neck with an almost dazed expression. Knowing the collar meant comfort, familiarity, meant a purpose. Not just embracing the hold they had- craving it. Needing it like oxygen. Pliant- tamed.

Theirs

[raintemper]

Moon and Pebbles!! Yippee

oh the woes of being a flesh creature surrounded by supercomputer gods,, I got sad drawing him hhh

more about them under the line :>

Moon! She, like Suns, was one of the first successful projects and were both more of test models/therapeutic companions than anything else. They were both restructured to fit their new functions but Suns has obviously undergone more significant changes... Moon is kept inside to assist with research and computational stuff. She's a lab cat. She's generally looks more like a normal creature, and has a friendly appearance because her creators (i guess it would be the ancients) would be seeing her frequently and would rather a friendly face, something that is easily perceived as nonthreatening, as opposed to Suns weaponry and NSH's extra limbs and spikes. She doesn't have the screen face like NSH, so expressing emotions comes mostly from body language. Moon is not outside at all so there is no need for solar panel components like Suns or NSH. She has internal stored power that can last for quite a while but still needs to be recharged? I imagine the neuron fly drones would also assist in that department. The drones still function somewhat like her portable processing servers/braincells. She has also programed a defensive protocol into them, they can create small bits of electricity to use in dire moments. Initially programmed to keep track of NSH's samples that sometimes escapes him.

Pebbles is a purposed organism. He is a whole entire organic cat. He was born in the lab, in a chaotic time when resources were low. He has a mark of communication. He also has a brain chip where he can access (basically) the cloud where the others upload information. He is also a lab cat so this is crucial to his role. He did try and remove it once when he was younger and it backfired horribly and now he has a mechanical ear and eye. He still feels out of place for obvious reasons, being the only creature of organic origin amongst his peers.

He is closest to Moon who had a role in caring for and raising him. She did not know a thing about caring for a living being but did her best. Pebbles does not like being confined to the facility. The suggestion and influence the brain chip has on him sometimes clashes with his thoughts. He is very aware of the limitations it puts on him to not leave. He envies NSH and Suns a lot for being able to do what he can't. He often downloads the maps they create and read NSH's sample studies in his spare time. He also likes seeing the lizards NSH brings back, from a distance.

I think in the time that Pebbles exists, NSH is not very active. Due to the low resources and chaotic season, NSH is often in low power mode. Which means less expeditions outside and more time just, half asleep. And when the weather becomes more sustainable, NSH would be sent on long outings to gather as much as possible before being powered down again. So instead of hearing stories from NSH, he sought out Suns and UI instead. (Actually I think everyone is kind of low power mode here, Suns does not wander as far).

erhm i think he tries to leave the place and then gets sick or something,,,im still thinking..

[nmoroder]

i know benjamin had a lot on his plate already but hear me out... an au where ayin for his reasons puts ben in charge of extraction team and not the arbiter who must have deserved to be there (not stating the reason. so don't immediately hate on A and all that. see the full text below for a load of details, and also english translation of text on pics 4 & 5)

it has the atziluth sephirot swap their colors (i've already did a post on color swap btw. but purely color) and the age of their filtered appearance; the full color swap (not just color change of department and uniform but colors of their hair, their bodies too) is required for original scheme to stay, with the colors corresponding to fixed sephirot and so on. names, too, would swap to what their respective kabbalah nodes should be and former benjamin is kind of pissed about his mentor's decision to give him work which is enough to drive a meaty human to insanity, even though after his escape he returned and tried to pry ayin off the plan in the earlier time, and overall he did all he could for the man. for him, the virtue would still be about the past and the future though as he'd have to come to terms with what ayin did to him, and his meltdown would probably have not the 'i want you to stay here with me and live at least somehow, i don't want to go' but instead 'i will make this place your tomb just like you did for me'. i guess it kinda sounds close to angela's feelings in ruina and that's also why both atziluth sephirot would've probably backed up her rebellion idk. its a fun little idea which blooms into a shitton of different things to think about

oh and also pics 4 and 5 have roland converse with library version of ben (he MUST be named binah at that point but i KNOW this will just bring confusion) and it's the quote from their first talk in original game. "i've dedicated my entire life to the wish of a single person", then roland asks "and the person's a rotten egg, eh?" to which ben explodes with OH THAT'S AN UNDERSTATEMENT. they'd probably get along as well over their similar feelings about ayin, which is funny. still not sure whether the respective floors would've been swapped for them... i mean either hokma still stands for religion and binah for philosophy and ben being the current binah would take the philosophy floor, or it's just color swap and religion would be dark with stars and philosophy the white hall and all. the anomalies of both floors fit very well with the color schemes and overall topic and i dont wanna meddle into that really but ehh... food for thought ig

[konstantynowitz]

I could’ve just messaged you but I want to get this question out there! So I was wondering: would Renissa ever leave St. Mungo’s or would she remain there for the rest of her life?

Fyi: this all happens shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts, so Voldemort is gone and there’s no one left to threaten Renissa’s safety or punish the Lestrange brothers for going against his wishes to have her killed.

Let’s say it’s post-1998 and Renissa is around thirty-six or thirty-seven? Right? Since she was born in 1962 so that would make her around one of those ages. Anyways, Andromeda somehow finds her at the sanitarium and is so relieved that Renissa is alive that she gets her discharged and brings her to live with her and Teddy?

If I remember correctly, you mentioned to me once that Renissa would’ve been close with the Black sisters, since Tasoula and Druella were best friends at Hogwarts. I understand they would’ve grown up together, and maybe could’ve seen each other as sisters? I feel like Renissa and Andromeda would’ve been the closest since they both didn’t share in their family’s pure-blood ideologies.

I don’t know how Andy could’ve found Renissa, or how she would’ve known to go looking for her if Ren had been registered under an alias. But perhaps maybe Rabastan could’ve told Andromeda? I feel like the two were also pretty close, and I headcanon that at some point Rabastan was a potential husband for Andy.

If Rabastan had lived past the Battle of Hogwarts, Andromeda could’ve visited him in Azkaban and he might’ve told her about Renissa still being alive? That kinda makes more sense to me rather than Andromeda stumbling about Renissa herself.

…Thoughts?

This ask has actually caused me to reconsider a few things I had planned for Renissa. Originally, I think I've mentioned that she would stay at St. Mungo's for the remainder of her life in an ask I got a while back, but that's probably not going to happen. Renissa will leave at some point, possibly within only a couple years of being admitted there. I feel like she is a character with so much wasted potential, and I don't want to keep her on the sidelines. What you said about Andromeda taking in Renissa after the war is something that I haven't thought about before. If Andy did end up finding Renissa and discharging her from St. Mugo's sometime after the war, then she still wouldn't remember Andromeda or who she was before Rodolphus and Rabastan obliviated her. As I've said before, Renissa isn't ever going to get her memory back, unfortunately, but the idea of Andy being reunited with her childhood friend is so bittersweet and it could work as a possible ending for the lost Lestrange girl. A while back, I actually thought of having a Lestrange OC marry into the Scamander family as a way to create a parallel between Newt and Leta. I was thinking that maybe Renissa could've married Lycidas Scamander? One of Tina and Newt's twins. I know I haven't gone that far into depth with this character, since I believe I only posted a few aesthetics and a small strip of headcanons for him. A problem with this would be that Lycidas is about sixteen years Renissa's senior... I mean that isn't exactly a problem but it's not very ideal. I guess it isn't that big of a deal seeing as Nymphadora and Remus were maybe thirteen years apart? I can't remember. Age gap couples aren't really my thing, especially when we started getting into modern times where it becomes less common. Lycidas would've met Renissa at St. Mugo's since he actually works there as a Psychopathologist. Obviously, Renissa wasn't actually mentally ill or anything so I'm not sure how she'd fit into his department, but they did know each other. Lycidas was kindhearted and sympathetic to his patients, and I guess that contributed to him later earning Renissa's trust. Keep in mind that by this point it's 1980 and Renissa is eighteen, and according to the birth date I gave Lycidas (1946) he's like what... thirty-four? Now that kinda concerns me lmao but I could always change it if I wanted to. Of course, that would make Newt and Tina significantly older when they had their twins (around their fifties?) so idk how I feel about that.

If Renissa marries Lycidas then she would have Rolf by the time she's nineteen, since I believe he's about the same age as Luna. That would mean that Lycidas and Renissa would've had to get married or start an official relationship within the first year she was admitted, which to me seems a bit rushed. I'm still thinking of loop holes around all of this, but I might just end up trashing this idea altogether if I'm being completely honest with you. Side note: the name Rolf would go perfect with my headcanon for the lestrange family naming their children with letter 'r' names and also the common theme of their meanings having to do with wolves.

extra side note: Renissa had the gift of foresight and I bet you they drove her a little mad, so I guess there is a possibility that she would've been put in a ward for the mentally ill? I like to think she drew out her visions on the walls of her room.

[zaineviu]

❛𝘔𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴❜ - B.C (SKZ)

synopsis. Bang Chan likes to keep his girlfriend satisfied. You like to keep your boyfriend satisfied.

pairings. bangchan x fem!reader.

content. nsfw!, established relationship, chan is very vocal in this, you are very vocal, rough handling, hair pulling, oral sex (f receiving), spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation.

wc. 2,562

a/n. Nothing to say, enjoy! ໒꒰ྀི⸝⸝•᷅ࡇ•᷄⸝⸝꒱ྀི১ 

Don't forget to comment, so I know you like what I write and encourage me to keep writing.

Chris was the first person Y/N called when you returned home to Australia. You hadn't been there often, hadn't stayed more than a couple of days at a time, but you had to get away. You sat in the garage for a few minutes, taking deep breaths as you waited for Chris to answer the phone. Predictably, he didn't, not that you was surprised, except, well, you was, because as much as Chris hated talking on his mobile phone, he always answered for you.

You pouted, shoving your mobile phone in your pocket before getting out of your car and going inside. You didn't bother bringing your bag, you didn't need it for anything anyway; you just wanted to get under the covers, find a way to talk yourself out of crying and sleep for about four days. You kicked off your shoes when you walked into his room, turned on the light and....

“Jesus, baby, turn that damn thing off.”

You turned off the light without a second thought, but then hesitated, “Chris?”

Chris groaned as you turned the light back on and forced himself to sit up, the soft cotton sheets falling from his bare shoulders. 

“What time is it?”

“It's half past one,” you said quietly, pulling your hat off your head and placing it on the dresser to your left. “I thought you were in Korea-”

“I'm back early,” Chris shrugged. “Turn off the light, will you? And get into bed.”

Wordlessly, you nodded and turned off the light again; you took off your sweatshirt and the long sleeved blouse you were wearing, staying in your jeans, before crawling into his bed next to a very naked Chris. 

He snuggled against you automatically, letting out a shaky little sigh as his arms wrapped around you.

Chris pushed his nose against the side of your neck, pulling you closer to his side until he was half-crossed over your chest. “How was the airport?” you asked softly, feeling Chris tense under your arm, though you knew what the answer would be before the words left his lips.

Chris shook his head, trying to roll onto his stomach and bury himself against you, the man wanted to disappear from the world, just for a moment. But he couldn't find the words to tell you how bad it was, how his heart rate still hadn't returned to normal, how he still felt like he was struggling to breathe.

His fingertips danced along your spine, resting on your lower back and rubbing in soft, soothing circles. You could feel the hesitant rise and fall of Chris's chest, you could almost feel his heart beating beneath your skin, you pressed your lips to Chris's temple. “Baby-”

“Horrible, it was horrible,” Chris was quick to whisper, putting an arm across your chest, almost crawling over you.

The corners of Chris's lips tilted upwards and he used his knee to push your legs apart, fitting your bodies together a little more comfortably. He ran his hands around your waist, squeezing your hips.

“I still feel like I can't breathe,” he admitted, pressing his lips to the centre of your chest.

Chris slid his fingers into your hair, twisting them in his long fingers, and gently pulled your head back, noticing the pout on your lips. He scratched your scalp for a moment, saw the way your eyes closed, how your lips curved upward just a little. “Do you want to take your trousers off for me?”

You nodded slowly, but made no effort to move.

With a quiet laugh, Chris rolled you both over until he was snuggled between your legs, and sat up, reaching for the hem of your trousers. Your hips lifted easily off the mattress, allowing Chris to pull the fabric down your legs, tossing it carelessly aside. Chris ran his hands up the inside of your thighs, massaging your skin, and watched as your body slowly relaxed, sinking back into the mattress, your lips parted. “Yes?”

“Chris,” you whispered, moving closer to him.

Chris leaned over you, resting his forearms against the mattress and pressed his lips to your lips, licking your mouth until your body arched over the mattress, your thighs hugging his hips. Chris leaned back with a smile, bending down and tenderly kissing your wet pussy, your folds moistening rapidly, Chris left his place reaching for you again, moving his hand up your thigh until his fingers touched the dampness of your underwear, pressing his index finger into the edge.

You groaned noisily, sliding your hands down Chris's shoulders to grab onto him, trying to pull him in. “Come on, I-”

“Patience,” Chris said softly, smiling before pressing his lips against Y/N's quickly.

“You know I'm not patient,” you pouted, leaning down to brush your lips along Chris's chest, licking and sucking as the older man reached for the bedside table, pulling out a strip of condoms in case of emergency.You moaned against his chest, biting into the skin before Chris leaned back, red spots turning a dark purple after a while.

“Do you feel like you can breathe now?” you asked, your voice soft, because your number one priority had always been, and always would be, Chris. 

Chris had been the priority, and Y/N could relate. Chris had always been able to relate to the way Y/N had to escape the crowds at parties sometimes, had to take time out and shut down, because Chris was just like you. And making sure Chris was calm, comfortable and content was the most important thing, no matter what.

Chris took a deep breath, still feeling like he couldn't breathe, but for a completely different and better reason. It was always a little hard to breathe around you; Chris was completely in love, even years later. And he knew what was coming, he could read your mind and he couldn't wait, because it had been so long since you had time alone, it had been so long since you had time to spend together without the other guys and without restrictions and obligations.

Chris knew Y/N better than he knew himself, always had, and he leaned in to kiss you again, quickly, before sliding his lips down the centre of your chest. You took a deep breath, your hands sliding through Chris's hair, twisting the strands and just resting there, not trying to guide or move it in any way, knowing Chris wouldn't let you anyway. Chris brushed over your sensitive nipples with a smile before pressing a hot kiss on top of your damp folds “Well?”

You nodded, your hair falling over your eyes, and not so subtly thrust your hips upwards.

Chris ran his tongue up and down gently, letting his tongue taste your flavour in his mouth, making you moan noisily at the sensation before reaching for your hands, pulling them out of his hair. “Grab your thighs for me, baby,” he told you.

You moaned and let Chris guide his hands to the back of your thighs, lifting your legs, and you let Chris position them however he wanted, your knees bent back, close to your ears, and Chris's warm breath right against your hole. “Chris, I-I need-”

“I know, baby, I'm going to take care of you,” Chris whispered, a promise against your skin. He watched your knuckles turn white, holding your thighs apart as Chris leaned in, pressing his lips against your rim, playing with the tip of his tongue. He could hear your sharp inhale morph into a loud moan as Chris pointed his tongue, licking him in earnest, fingers resting on the back of Y/N's quivering thighs.

His hands burying themselves in your skin, his veins marking his arms, his fingers turning white.

You could feel your hips trying to rock down, slowly at first, just a little, and then more as you felt Chris's fingers against your rim, thrusting inside you. You gasped as you felt the tickle of Chris's jaw on the back of your thighs, you knew you would be sore for days from the way Chris dragged his lower lip all over your pussy sucking and biting at the sensitive skin. Your hands slid from your thighs to your boyfriend's hair, tugging at his loose locks, and Chris pulled away, licking his lips and shaking his head, all your juices sliding down his chin, not something you could see; your eyes were shut tight, your lips bitten and red, and your cheeks flushed.

Chris reached out and touched your wrist, causing you to immediately reach for your thighs again. ‘Good girl,’ your boyfriend said with a smile before he leaned down to lick your pussy before he started to move his fingers around your clit.

“Chris, Chris, Chris, Chris, please,” you pleaded, not caring much about how loud you were being, arching your back.

Chris pulled off with a wet sound and reached for the strip of condoms, opening one and putting it on in a matter of seconds. “Come on, get on top, baby,” he said, rolling onto his back and pulling you on top of him.

You moaned helplessly, pouting prettily as you adjusted your limbs until you were sitting astride Chris's slim waist. You rested your hands on your boyfriend's chest as you felt his fingers press against your sensitive nipples, moulding your breasts in his hands. You stifled a gasp as Chris pushed that little bundle of nerves relentlessly against his cock, thrusting his hips against you, your hair falling over your face. “I'm-”

“Not yet, you're not,” Chris told him with a little laugh, sliding his fingers down and reaching for Y/N's hips.

Your body was so docile and pliable, letting Chris do whatever he wanted, and you snorted as the head of Chris's cock slid against your hole, between your cheeks, and pushed his hips back, trying to take more. “Chris, I-”

“Come on, sit on it, baby,” he instructed, his voice a little rougher than normal.

You bit your bottom lip as you reached behind, grabbing Chris's cock and pressing it against your hole. 

He moaned as you teased him for a minute, the head sliding in and then out, staining the backs of his thighs with cum, before slowly sinking down over his length. “Fuck.”

Chris exhaled slowly, pressing his fingertips against your thighs, bruising the skin right next to the bruises that were just forming. He registered your small gasp as he rocked his hips down, planting a hand on Chris's chest for balance. Chris slid his fingers down your thighs and across your hips, his thumb pressing between the sharp line of your hips.

You jerked your hips, rocking a little, feeling Chris slide a little deeper, felt him push against that little bundle of nerves, and let out a shuddering sigh. You felt your boyfriend's fingers press against your hips again, and you rocked down again, desperate to make Chris feel as undone as you felt.  You forced your eyes open, watching Chris as he wiggled his hips downwards, and pouted as the older man looked up at you with a grin and rosy cheeks, and it wasn't fair that Chris seemed so calm when you felt like crying from so much stimulation. You were going to explode. “Chris,” you moaned, pressing your hands on his shoulders, “I'm going to-”

Chris shook his head, planted his feet on the mattress and thrust his hips up once, fucking you and cutting off whatever you were going to say. “You're not going to cum until I do, okay?”

“I-”

“Ride me, baby, come on,” Chris urged, fucking you again.

You nodded blankly and lifted your hips, letting out a moan of frustration as you felt Chris slip out, and reached up to line him up again, sinking back in with a small sigh of bliss. You paused for a minute, eyes closed as you wiggled your hips, just enjoying the feeling of Chris being so deep inside you, and you were jolted by a hard slap on your ass, which made you moan. “I- Fuck.”

Chris smiled down at you, his fingers rubbing your ass tenderly, feeling your skin heat up. “Like that?” he asked, cheeky, not waiting for you to nod vigorously and gasp a silent yes. Chris did it again, the other cheek, and watched you cry out, closing your eyes tightly, rocking against him a little faster, a little more desperately. 

He had a thought in the back of his head that he should have taken the rings off earlier, he couldn't imagine it felt good with the metal around his fingers, but you didn't seem to mind, torn between pushing back into Chris's hand on your ass. Chris ran his hand over your soft skin, this time advancing to your clitoris, moving his fingers without putting pressure, just stroking, and you cum with a gasp.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” you rushed out, gasping as your body shook with your orgasm.

Chris grabbed your hips and easily flipped you over, pinning you to the mattress and fucking you like a fucking animal. He grabbed the back of your thighs and pushed them up, thrusting deeper, bruising your already bruised pale skin, he couldn't take his eyes off you, the way your hair spread across the pillow and your pretty pink cheeks.

You moaned, sliding a hand down your body, pinching your own nipples. You moaned at the overstimulation, and tried to spread your legs a little wider. “Come on, come inside me,” you gasped.

Chris moaned, feeling his stomach clench, and fucked you faster, chasing his orgasm.

Y/N moaned with Chris, you let him use your body, and he reached up to pull you in, feeling more than a little overwhelmed. “Come on, I want to feel you, I want to feel you cum,” you whispered, knowing Chris was close, you could tell by the way his hips stuttered a little. “I want to feel you inside me for days. Make a mess of me, okay?”

Chris pulled away from you, pulling his cock out of your pussy and tugging at the condom, tossing it somewhere in the room, thrusting inside you just as quickly, moaning noisily as he felt you fully.

“Fuck,” Chris cursed, fucking you and stopping as he cum inside you. He pulled out slowly a minute later, using the pad of his thumb to rub your pussy, catching some of his cum and pushing it back in; he was always amazed at the way you let him do anything to your body, especially after a powerful orgasm when he had no energy to even try to stop it.

Your fingers ran along Chris's wrist before sliding a finger inside yourself, next to Chris's thumb. “Fuck,” you whispered, touching yourself for a minute with a sleepy, satisfied smile, before pulling Chris closer to kiss him. “Let's go to sleep, shall we? Then you can fuck me again when we wake up.”

Chris chuckled, smoothing your hair back and away from your sweaty forehead. “Are you okay?” you asked softly, brushing your knuckles over the soft skin of your boyfriend's cheek.

He nodded, wrapping his arms around your waist, snuggling you against him “Yes,” he said softly. “I'm better now because of you.”

[earthlybeam]

Just some random headcanons i think that fit Glorfindel (my opinion)

↓

↓

↓

Glorfindel version below.

☀️𝓖𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓵

What's their love language? Glorfindel’s love language is profoundly intertwined with physical touch and acts of service. He is a being of quiet depth and warmth, and for him, love is best expressed through meaningful, intimate gestures rather than grandiose declarations. He conveys his affection in subtle yet deeply comforting ways—whether it’s gently holding hands as they walk through serene forests, or offering a gentle brush of his fingers across their arm, Glorfindel’s touch is tender, always a reminder of the bond they share. His hand resting on their shoulder or a quiet touch on the back is a silent declaration of support and affection that speaks louder than words ever could.

When the weight of the world feels heavy, Glorfindel finds a deep sense of peace in the simple act of resting his head on their shoulder or pulling them into a quiet embrace. In those moments, the world fades away and only the closeness between them remains. These quiet hugs aren’t rushed—they are long, filled with a tenderness that speaks of protection, comfort, and unwavering love. For Glorfindel, the act of simply being together in these moments, without the need to speak, is when he feels most at peace, surrounded by the warmth of his significant other. He cherishes the stillness and the peace that physical proximity brings. Whether they’re sitting together by a fire or sharing a cup of tea on a calm afternoon, these moments are treasures to him. Glorfindel enjoys the soft silence between them, where their love doesn’t need words but is felt deeply in the shared space. His joy lies in these serene, intimate moments that may seem simple, but are the foundation of his connection to them. He is content in the knowledge that his presence is all that is needed to make them feel cherished and loved.

In addition to his love for physical closeness, acts of service are central to how Glorfindel expresses his care. His devotion is shown through actions that lighten his partner’s burdens. When they are unwell, or simply worn from the trials of life, Glorfindel will step in with a quiet but determined effort to care for them. He might cook a nourishing meal, ensuring every dish is prepared with care, or bring them the herbs they need to heal. He’ll never hesitate to run errands for them, even if it means putting aside his own responsibilities. His attention to detail in these acts demonstrates his love—every task is an opportunity to show his commitment, his unwavering desire to make their lives easier, more comfortable. Glorfindel’s love is not just about the big moments, but also about the consistent, everyday ways he cares for his partner. If they are overwhelmed by the weight of their tasks or responsibilities, Glorfindel will take it upon himself to shoulder some of that burden, showing his love through quiet sacrifice. Whether it’s taking on a physical task or simply offering his presence, he seeks to be a steady, reliable force in their life. For Glorfindel, the essence of love lies in physical closeness and selfless acts of service. These gestures, though simple, are his truest form of devotion—his constant desire to be there for his loved one, not just in moments of joy, but in the quieter, more vulnerable times as well. He doesn’t need to speak of his love; it is woven into every touch, every thoughtful action, every quiet moment they share together. His love is steady, unwavering, and constant—a beautiful reflection of his deep emotional connection to them.

How do they view their significant other? Are they the light in their life? Best friend? Savior, etc.? To Glorfindel, his significant other is everything—they are not only the light in his life, but also his best friend and his greatest source of joy. They are the one person who sees and understands him in a way no one else does. In their presence, the weight of his many responsibilities feels a little lighter, and the world—often filled with battle, duty, and sorrow—becomes a little more peaceful. They bring balance to his life, offering a sense of stability and warmth that soothes his soul. Glorfindel doesn’t see his partner as simply someone to share his love with, but rather as his confidante, his equal, and his most trusted ally. He holds them in the highest regard, admiring their strength, wisdom, and kindness. They are not just a companion in the sense of being with him through the mundane, but someone who has a deep impact on his spirit—someone whose presence makes him feel complete. In moments of stillness or exhaustion, they are the one person he seeks, for they are his refuge, the place where he feels truly at ease.

He views them as a force of good in his life and the world. His love for them comes from more than just attraction or affection—it is rooted in profound respect and admiration for who they are as an individual. Glorfindel sees in them the qualities he himself holds dear: courage, kindness, wisdom, and a fierce sense of justice. They are his greatest inspiration, constantly reminding him of why he fights—to protect not only the world but also the love they share. They are the anchor in his life, the person who makes him feel that all the sacrifices and struggles he faces are worthwhile. In Glorfindel’s eyes, his partner is not just someone to cherish—they are the one thing that gives him a sense of hope and peace in an often chaotic and burdensome world. They are the calm in the storm, the one he trusts with his heart, and the person he knows he can rely on no matter what life throws at him. He holds their bond with the deepest reverence, knowing that in them, he has found his home and his truest companion.

How do they act when falling out of love? Glorfindel’s love is steadfast, deeply rooted in his character, and he rarely falls out of love easily. His devotion to those he cares for is unwavering, and the idea of falling out of love is something he would resist with all his might. However, if he did find himself in a situation where his feelings began to shift, the change would be a slow, quiet process. Rather than a sudden, dramatic shift, he would become more reserved and withdrawn over time, carefully distancing himself without making a scene. His usually exuberant nature would fade as he focused more on the practical aspects of their relationship—discussing matters with a sense of detachment, perhaps even making small talk that feels more formal than familiar. Though Glorfindel’s protective instincts would remain strong, he would begin to withdraw emotionally, sensing that his presence might be more of a burden than a comfort. He would give his partner the space to figure things out, backing away in a way that reflects his deep respect for them. He understands that love cannot be forced, and if it no longer thrives, he would quietly step aside, choosing not to hold onto something that is no longer there. This doesn’t mean he would abandon them out of cruelty—quite the opposite. His departure would be painful for him, and he would never act out of spite or malice.

The affection and closeness he once shared would gradually fade as he refrains from seeking intimate moments or expressions of love. He might no longer share quiet tea sessions or offer the same physical comfort, and the once-comfortable silence would grow heavier. He wouldn’t want to hurt his partner, but he knows that continuing a relationship without true affection could do more damage in the long run. Glorfindel’s love, once deep and full of vibrant connection, would slowly shift into a kind of quiet sorrow, as he respects both their needs and the reality of the situation. His approach would be respectful and gentle, as he quietly processes his emotions and figures out how to move forward. He would never lash out or demand answers, knowing that love cannot be rushed or forced. In this moment, Glorfindel’s wisdom and stoicism would guide him—he’d accept the end of the relationship with a heavy heart, but with a sense of grace. His commitment to honor and integrity would mean he would still care for his former partner, even if the bond has changed, and would ensure their well-being from afar if necessary. The process would be slow, thoughtful, and filled with quiet pain, but Glorfindel would hold his head high, trusting that in time, both of them would heal.

Will they do anything for their s/o? Will the crocodile tears win them over or are they stubborn on not giving in? Yes, Glorfindel would do anything for his significant other. His loyalty is unwavering, and his deep sense of duty extends not only to his people but also to those he loves. His commitment to protect and care for them knows no bounds, and he would place their happiness and well-being above his own without hesitation. He would go to great lengths to ensure they are safe and cared for—whether that means laying down his life to defend them, sacrificing his time and energy to support their goals, or offering resources freely to make their lives easier. His love is selfless, and he finds fulfillment in being the steadfast protector, the one who can be counted on in any situation. Glorfindel’s sense of duty and honor is intrinsic to who he is, and he would never shirk his responsibilities when it comes to his significant other. He would spend long hours tending to their needs, whether they are physical, emotional, or practical. From running errands to offering wise counsel, he would be the rock they could rely on in times of joy or hardship.

However, Glorfindel is also wise and has lived through countless challenges. While he is incredibly generous and caring, he is not easily swayed by manipulation. If his partner were to use tactics like crocodile tears or emotional manipulation to get their way, he would see through it immediately. His respect for his partner and his sense of honor would make it hard for him to be deceived. He values honesty and integrity in a relationship and would not tolerate dishonesty or coercion. If he ever suspected that his significant other was using emotional manipulation, he would confront them with calm and understanding, seeking the truth. Though his love is selfless, it is also rooted in trust and mutual respect. Glorfindel would do anything for his partner, but only if the relationship is built on honesty and authenticity. If he were to discover any dishonesty or manipulation, it would be difficult for him to forgive and move forward in the same way. His devotion and willingness to sacrifice everything would remain, but the foundation of trust would need to be rebuilt before he could fully open his heart again. For Glorfindel, true love means respect, honesty, and genuine care. If his partner is genuine, his willingness to go to great lengths for them would be endless. However, the moment trust is broken, it would take a lot to mend, as his love is deeply intertwined with his sense of integrity and honor.

How do they kiss? Glorfindel’s kisses are gentle, yet filled with profound passion, tenderness, and the weight of his affection. He would never rush such a significant and intimate moment, taking care to ensure each kiss carries its own meaning and emotion. His kisses are never hurried, reflecting his patient and thoughtful nature. He believes that love is shown in the subtleties, and as such, his kisses will always be full of reverence for the person he adores. A simple kiss on the forehead would be a sign of respect and deep care, lingering just a moment longer than most, as he gently places his lips there with quiet devotion. A peck on the cheek might be his way of showing his love in public or in the company of others, subtle but no less sincere. Yet, when alone with his partner, his kisses become more intimate—a soft touch at first, but quickly growing in intensity as they both become attuned to one another. The initial kiss might be tentative, a slow exploration, but as the moments stretch on, his affection deepens and his kiss becomes more passionate, filled with longing and warmth.

What makes his kisses special is not just the physical act, but the emotional weight behind them. Each kiss feels like a promise, as though he’s pouring all of his love and admiration into that single, fleeting moment. His kisses are his way of conveying what words cannot, a deep connection to the person he loves, allowing his heart to speak through the simple yet profound gesture. Glorfindel is not one to kiss for the sake of passion alone; he kisses with meaning and purpose, often savoring the closeness, the warmth, and the pure emotion between them. When he kisses, it is as if he is conveying his devotion and admiration, speaking to the very core of his being. Each kiss from him would feel like a reflection of how deeply he cherishes his partner—a moment of shared vulnerability and affection that can only come from true love.

What's their favorite part of their s/o? Glorfindel’s favorite part of his partner is undoubtedly their eyes. He finds himself captivated by the way their gaze can speak volumes without a single word being exchanged. Their eyes, to him, are the windows to their soul—full of joy, wisdom, and an undeniable depth that he is drawn to. The way their emotions flicker across their gaze, whether it’s a fleeting moment of happiness or a deeper, more introspective thought, speaks to Glorfindel on a level that words never could. He could easily lose himself in their eyes, finding a quiet strength and comfort in the way they lock onto his. Their eyes remind him of all the things he loves about them—gentleness, intelligence, passion—and he never tires of looking into them, as each glance feels like a quiet affirmation of the bond they share.

That said, if asked to articulate what truly draws him to them, Glorfindel would likely express that it’s not only their physical appearance that captivates him. For him, it’s their inner beauty, their strength of character, and the quiet resilience they embody. Glorfindel is someone who is most moved by the soul—the strength of will, the kindness, and the integrity a person holds deep within themselves. It’s their intelligence and their ability to navigate the world with wisdom and grace that he truly cherishes, not just the surface level. However, if pressed to choose a more physical feature, Glorfindel would admit that he is particularly drawn to the waist or hips of his partner. There is something inherently comforting and intimate about resting his hand on their waist, or the way their movements seem to flow naturally from that part of the body. His hand may often find its way there, a subtle but reassuring gesture of his closeness and affection. For him, this part of the body represents both strength and softness, and it feels like a perfect place to feel their presence—gentle but grounding.

Are they protective? Yes, Glorfindel is deeply and fiercely protective of those he loves, and his significant other is no exception. His protective nature is not driven by possessiveness, but by an unwavering sense of duty, loyalty, and love. Glorfindel’s instinct is always to shield and support those he cares about, both in times of physical danger and emotional distress. He would go to great lengths to ensure their safety and well-being, whether that means standing in front of them in battle or quietly offering comfort in the face of emotional hardship. In battle, Glorfindel’s protective instincts are on full display. His skill with a blade, his courage in the face of overwhelming odds, and his determination to protect those he loves all come to the forefront. He would fight with everything he has, always putting himself between the danger and his partner, ensuring they are out of harm’s way. His strength and bravery become a shield, not just in the physical realm, but in the emotional and spiritual realms as well.

However, his protection extends beyond mere physical defense. Glorfindel is attuned to the emotional and psychological needs of those he loves, and he would not hesitate to offer his support in times of vulnerability. If his partner is troubled, overwhelmed, or hurt, he is the first to offer a listening ear, provide gentle encouragement, and help them find peace. He doesn’t just stand guard; he also nurtures and heals the emotional wounds that might go unseen by others. His protectiveness also manifests in his actions, making sure his significant other feels safe in every way—whether it’s making sure they are physically comfortable, emotionally supported, or simply not burdened by the weight of the world. For Glorfindel, protection is not a burden; it is a privilege, an expression of his deep love and care for them. Whether they face physical danger or the pain of the heart, Glorfindel will always be there, standing firm and resolute, to shield them from harm. In essence, Glorfindel’s protective nature is as much about being present in times of peace as it is about being a steadfast defender in moments of conflict. His protection is comprehensive, wrapping both his loved ones’ physical and emotional well-being in the same unshakeable shield.

How far will they go to take care of their sick s/o? Glorfindel’s sense of duty, which is deeply ingrained in him, extends far beyond the battlefield. When his significant other is sick, his protective instincts take over in the most nurturing way. His devotion to their well-being becomes his highest priority, and he will go to great lengths to ensure they are comfortable and cared for. He doesn’t just perform the bare minimum—he will tend to every detail with thoroughness and love, making sure that his partner feels safe, supported, and cherished throughout their illness. He will be by their side, not just physically present, but emotionally invested in their recovery. Whether it’s fetching the necessary medicine, preparing soothing teas, or making sure they have plenty of food and water, Glorfindel’s actions will show his unwavering commitment to their well-being. He will create a calm, peaceful environment, ensuring that his significant other can rest without worry or discomfort. His attention to detail would extend to creating a serene space—drawing the curtains just right, adjusting the pillows, or keeping the room warm and cozy.

Glorfindel is not one to shy away from responsibility. He would not hesitate to cancel any personal engagements or put aside his own needs for the sake of their comfort. His love is selfless, and when they need him, he’s fully there—putting aside his duties and plans, with no complaint or hesitation. He would be the one to stay up late, checking on them periodically, making sure they’re warm, hydrated, and settled. Even in moments when his partner might be feverish or restless, he would sit beside them, gently stroking their hair or offering soft words of reassurance, ensuring they know they are not alone. His love is expressed through his actions, and in times of illness, his unwavering presence is a testament to the depth of his care. He will offer not just physical comfort, but emotional support as well—quietly assuring them that they are strong, and that their health is his primary concern. If needed, Glorfindel would make sure to handle all the responsibilities around the home, from cooking meals to running errands, without question. He would do everything he can to ease their burdens and allow them to focus solely on recovering. For Glorfindel, taking care of his sick partner isn’t just about tending to their immediate physical needs, but about providing them with the emotional security that comes from knowing they are deeply loved and cared for, no matter the circumstances.

How do they cheer their s/o up when they're down? Glorfindel is deeply attuned to the emotional needs of those he loves, particularly his significant other. When they are feeling down, he is both patient and perceptive, allowing them the space to express their feelings freely. He understands that sometimes, the best way to help is not to rush in with solutions, but simply to be present, offering a safe space for them to process their emotions. His calming, steady presence often brings a sense of peace, as he doesn’t pressure them to feel better, but instead provides an understanding ear and a shoulder to lean on.

Once his partner has had the space to express themselves, Glorfindel gently reassures them with his wisdom. He’s known to offer comforting words that reflect his vast experience and knowledge of both the world and human emotions. His advice is often laced with insight, drawing on the lessons of his long life, and delivered with kindness and tenderness. His words carry the weight of someone who has lived through countless trials and knows that dark times are only temporary. Glorfindel’s calming voice and heartfelt sincerity are often enough to ease the tension and give his partner hope for brighter days ahead. In addition to his comforting words, Glorfindel knows the value of quiet companionship. He might suggest a peaceful walk through nature, where the soothing rhythm of their steps and the beauty of the surroundings can serve as a distraction and a healing balm for a troubled heart. He is not one to rush, allowing his partner to share their thoughts as they walk, or simply enjoying the shared silence between them. The connection they have provides a sense of belonging, and his partner is reminded that they are never truly alone, even in their darkest moments.

If the time is right and his partner is open to it, Glorfindel might break the tension with a touch of humor, always in good spirit. He might tease them lightly, offering a playful comment or a witty remark that brings a smile to their face. His humor is never forceful, and it’s always designed to lift their spirits without making them feel dismissed. Glorfindel’s teasing is gentle, and his ability to know when to be serious and when to lighten the mood shows how well he understands and cares for his partner. He never pushes them to smile, but instead, he creates an environment where they feel safe to do so in their own time. Above all, Glorfindel’s approach to cheering his partner up is rooted in respect and love. He knows that healing often comes not from grand gestures but from the quiet, loving acts that remind his partner they are cherished and supported. Whether it’s through a shared moment of silence, a heartening conversation, or a burst of light-hearted humor, Glorfindel’s commitment to lifting his partner’s spirits never wavers.

How do they react when they find out their s/o is dead? Glorfindel would be utterly shattered by the loss of his significant other. The news would strike him like a blow to his very core, leaving him temporarily numb, as though the world around him has come to a standstill. The bond they shared, so profound and full of warmth, would feel like a part of himself had been ripped away, leaving an emptiness that nothing could easily fill. The pain of losing someone so dear would be unbearable, and for a time, he might struggle to express the depth of his grief. As an elf who has experienced centuries of life, he is no stranger to loss, but the death of a loved one, someone who held such a unique place in his heart, would feel different—a deep and personal wound that takes time to even begin to understand. At first, Glorfindel might retreat inwardly, struggling to comprehend the magnitude of the loss. His usually composed demeanor could falter, his eyes reflecting the storm of emotions he feels inside. Though he may not outwardly show the full extent of his pain right away, his grief would be immense, and those closest to him would feel the weight of his sorrow even if he doesn’t speak of it. The quiet of his demeanor in those early moments would be a testament to the depth of the love he had for them and the overwhelming sense of emptiness he now faces.

Despite the initial crushing wave of sorrow, Glorfindel’s strength and resilience would soon rise to the surface. As a being of immense willpower, he would channel his grief into a quiet, determined resolve to honor their memory and continue the work they had shared. He would not let their death define him, but instead, it would fuel his desire to push forward, to carry on their shared purpose, and to live in a way that reflects the love and ideals they held dear. His sense of duty would not allow him to succumb to despair forever. Instead, he would find ways to honor them by protecting others, continuing to fight for what they believed in, and perhaps even by performing acts of kindness or compassion that reflect their spirit. However, even with his strength and resolve, Glorfindel would undoubtedly carry the scar of this loss for the rest of his life. The ache would remain in the quiet moments, when he finds himself alone or reflecting on the life they shared. There would be times when grief resurfaces in waves, and though he might not openly show it, there would be a lingering sadness in his eyes that speaks of the love he will always carry for them. His heart, while still strong, would be forever marked by the love they shared, and in some ways, he would be forever changed by their loss. Ultimately, Glorfindel’s reaction would be a complex mix of profound sorrow, quiet strength, and an unwavering commitment to live in a way that honors the memory of his lost love. Though the heartache would never fully disappear, he would carry their spirit with him, pushing through the pain to honor the life they shared, and using that sorrow as a source of strength in his ongoing journey.

What makes them worry about their s/o the most? Glorfindel’s greatest worry for his significant other is their safety and well-being, both physically and emotionally. As a deeply protective individual, his love comes with an inherent desire to shield them from harm, and he is always alert to any potential threats, whether they are external dangers or internal struggles. His concern would extend far beyond just keeping them safe from physical harm; he would be equally worried about their emotional well-being. If they were hurt, whether by the cruelty of others, by loss, or by their own doubts, it would weigh heavily on his heart. Glorfindel’s love is not limited to the obvious forms of protection; it extends to ensuring their happiness, peace of mind, and the emotional balance that sustains them. He would worry about their mental state, too—if they seemed stressed, anxious, or overwhelmed, he would feel a quiet but persistent anxiety about their emotional health. More than anything, Glorfindel would fear the thought of them being alone or feeling neglected. He understands loneliness and knows how damaging isolation can be. If he sensed that his partner was carrying burdens alone, or if they were struggling without feeling supported, it would trouble him deeply. The idea of them being in pain—without someone to comfort them, or without the reassurance that they are loved and valued—would hurt him almost as much as if he were enduring the pain himself. His instinct would be to shield them from any sadness, frustration, or heartache, though he knows he cannot protect them from everything. Still, he would try his hardest to be there in every way possible—whether by offering guidance, practical help, or simply being present to offer emotional comfort.

Glorfindel’s worries would also extend to the potential of losing them or the fear of their love fading. Given his intense connection to them, the idea of losing that bond—whether to death, separation, or emotional distance—would stir an anxious longing. While his love is steadfast, he would be vigilant in ensuring that nothing endangers the deep connection they share. If they were to face any kind of emotional pain—whether caused by others, by circumstances, or by something within themselves—he would become consumed with the need to alleviate that pain and remind them of the strength of their bond. Ultimately, Glorfindel’s greatest worry is to see his significant other suffer in any way. His protective nature, combined with his immense love, would make him continually anxious about their well-being. He would do everything in his power to ensure that they never feel alone, unloved, or in harm’s way—his concern for them would never waver, and he would always be ready to step in to support and safeguard them in any way possible.

How often do they stare lovingly at their s/o? Glorfindel is the type of elf who, in the quiet moments, cannot help but lose himself in the presence of his significant other. His gaze lingers on them with a quiet reverence, filled with admiration and warmth. Whether they’re engaged in a simple task, lost in thought, or laughing, he often finds himself gazing at them, feeling an overwhelming sense of awe and love. These moments aren’t frequent in an obvious way, but they are sincere and deeply felt, like fleeting sparks of tenderness that he can’t help but indulge in.

When he’s looking at them, it’s as if time slows, and the world around him fades into the background. He could be caught in a deep stare, observing the way they move, the expression on their face, or the sound of their laughter. It is a gaze filled with quiet reverence, as if he sees not only their physical beauty but also the depth of their soul. His eyes would reflect a deep affection, a tenderness born from the bond they share. He might not always be aware of how long he’s been watching them, lost in the beauty of the connection between them.

During moments when they’re unaware, like when they’re reading, working, or staring into the distance, Glorfindel would often find himself stealing these moments to simply observe them. His love is a quiet and steady thing, and sometimes the best way he can express it is through these unspoken gestures—his adoring gaze being one of the simplest yet most genuine ways he shows his love. The warmth in his eyes would speak volumes even when he doesn’t say a word. On occasion, he would also give them a secret, playful glance—a look full of subtle mischief or affection, one that only the two of them understand. It might be shared in the middle of a crowded room, or when a fleeting thought crosses his mind that makes him want to share a private moment without words. These secret glances are full of intimacy and connection, where he shares his feelings without needing to announce them aloud.

And then, there are the teasing glances—the ones that are filled with light-heartedness, a playful challenge in his eyes. These are the looks he gives when they’re bantering, when there’s a shared joke or playful moment between them. It’s his way of showing affection with a hint of fun, a teasing but endearing glance that’s meant to make them smile or laugh. He can’t resist sneaking in those looks, especially when he knows it’ll make them blush or give a knowing smile. Though not constant, his moments of gazing lovingly at them—whether in silent admiration, shared secret glances, or teasing looks—are filled with a deep sense of contentment and gratitude. For Glorfindel, these tender glances are part of how he cherishes his partner, an unspoken affirmation of the bond they share, one that doesn’t need to be declared out loud but instead felt in the silent, shared space between them.

How do they impress their s/o? Glorfindel’s way of impressing his significant other is subtle but profound, rooted in the strength of his character and the quiet integrity he brings to every action. He doesn’t rely on grandiose gestures or overt displays of affection; instead, he impresses through his unwavering dedication to what he believes in, and the quiet way he carries himself. His courage and wisdom are often evident in the way he approaches situations—whether it’s in battle, in moments of hardship, or in the simplest acts of everyday life. He impresses by being reliable, steady, and always true to his word, showing that he is someone who can be trusted and depended upon. One of the most striking ways Glorfindel impresses his partner is through his honor and integrity. He has an unshakable moral compass, and his decisions are guided by a sense of right and wrong that is deeply ingrained in his being. He will never compromise his principles, and this unwavering commitment to justice and fairness is something that leaves a lasting impression. His loyalty and selflessness, demonstrated in the sacrifices he is willing to make for the well-being of others, speaks volumes about the depth of his character.

In addition to his strength of character, Glorfindel has a quiet sense of humor that shines through in unexpected ways. He knows how to lighten the mood when things feel heavy, offering a playful comment or a gentle teasing remark that can make his partner laugh, even in the darkest of times. This lighthearted side, though often overshadowed by his serious demeanor, is one of the ways he keeps his partner engaged and reminds them that joy can always be found, even in the most challenging moments. But what truly leaves a lasting impression on his significant other is his ability to balance his sense of duty with his capacity for joy and love. He is not all business or all fun—he is a beautiful combination of both. Glorfindel takes his responsibilities seriously, always fighting for the greater good, but he also knows when to pause, smile, and savor the small moments of life. Whether it’s sharing a quiet evening together, or simply holding their hand as they walk through the forest, these small acts are what truly impress, because they show his partner that, no matter how great the weight of his duty, his love and devotion to them always come first.

When alone in private, Glorfindel’s affection deepens even more. He becomes tender, like a golden retriever, eager to shower his partner with love and attention. He’ll greet them with kisses and bear hugs, a constant reminder of how much he cherishes their presence. His affection is abundant—often found in the way he touches them lightly as they pass, his gentle fingers grazing their skin, or how he rests his head on their shoulder in the most casual moments. He loves to hold them close, not just for a brief moment, but often, as if trying to drink in their warmth. In these private moments, his gestures are soft and intimate, like taking a bath together, where the water soothes both their bodies and their souls. He might tenderly wash their hair, careful not to miss a single strand, while teasing them about their choice of soap, or sharing quiet, playful remarks to make them laugh. His teasing is never mean-spirited, but full of affection, as he gently pulls them into his arms for a slow, lingering kiss. His love is most vividly shown in these quiet, tender moments. In public, he may be reserved and dignified, but when alone with his significant other, he is more than willing to express his love in every way possible. From the way he dotes on them—offering comforting touches or spontaneous acts of care—to the way he affectionately teases and holds them, Glorfindel’s private love is an embodiment of warmth and tenderness, like the embrace of the golden sun he is named after. Ultimately, Glorfindel impresses not just through his strength, character, and actions, but also through the depth of his affection when no one else is watching. His quiet devotion, whether in moments of playfulness or sincere tenderness, shows his partner that his love is boundless, consistent, and unwavering. It’s in these shared moments of intimacy and vulnerability that Glorfindel’s true nature is fully revealed—he is not just a protector and a warrior, but someone who is deeply invested in the joy and comfort of his partner.

https://www.instagram.com/legendarium_studio?igsh=MTV6bDMyNjYxeHYzbw== (cosplayer of Glorfindel this page from if you wanted to know)

Extra bonus (these parts just for fun, love writing them 😈🙈)

𖤓 He’s always down for cuddles. Whether he’s in the middle of a serious conversation or after a battle, Glorfindel will instantly drop everything for a cuddle. He’s the type to wrap his arms around his loved ones in a warm, tight hug, lifting them off the ground if he can. His cuddles are like a safe haven, and he’ll gladly hold onto you for as long as you need, offering comfort and warmth.

𖤓 He’s the type to fetch things just to make you happy. If you need something, Glorfindel will go out of his way to bring it to you—even if it’s something simple like a book or a cup of tea. He’ll do it with the enthusiasm of a dog who’s been asked to fetch a ball. “I’m happy to help!” he’ll say with a big grin as he runs to do your bidding.

𖤓 He has a “playful” side that comes out at unexpected times. Sometimes Glorfindel gets a burst of energy and will start playfully wrestling with his friends, gently tackling them to the ground in a fun, lighthearted manner. His energy is contagious, and before anyone knows it, they’re all on the ground, laughing.

𖤓 He loves to give his significant other flowers… just because. Glorfindel is always picking the most beautiful flowers and bringing them to his partner without any special occasion. He’ll find something in bloom in the forest, excited to give it to them with a big smile, as if he’s just given them the most precious treasure.

𖤓 He has a habit of collecting random “souvenirs” for his friends. Every time he goes on a journey or a trip, Glorfindel will find something small and silly to bring back—whether it’s a leaf from a special tree, an oddly shaped rock, or an acorn. He’s convinced that they’re important little tokens that remind him of the adventure, and he always gives them out with a big smile.

𖤓 He’s an over-the-top “cheerleader” for his partner. Whenever his significant other does something impressive—no matter how small—Glorfindel will be their loudest cheerleader. He’ll clap, hoot, and holler with excitement, often making an exaggerated show of how proud he is of them. His enthusiasm is infectious, and he’s never shy about making sure they know how amazing they are.

𖤓 He is an extreme morning person. While others may groggily wake up, Glorfindel is already full of energy, ready to greet the day with enthusiasm. He’ll happily bring his partner a cup of tea or breakfast in bed, his golden energy making him the perfect early riser who loves to start the day off with positivity.

𖤓 He’ll sneak up behind people to give them an unexpected bear hug. Glorfindel loves physical affection, and while he’s normally composed, he has an unexpected habit of sneaking up behind his friends or significant other and wrapping them in a massive bear hug. He doesn’t always announce his approach, making it extra startling, but he’s always quick to laugh afterward.

𖤓 He talks to his reflection when he’s frustrated. When things aren’t going the way he’d like, Glorfindel can often be found talking to his reflection in the mirror. It’s a method of self-soothing, where he works through problems by speaking out loud to himself. Sometimes he’ll even give himself little pep talks when he needs to remind himself of his own strength.

𖤓 Glorfindel is terrible at keeping secrets, but he tries. He can be trusted with confidences, but Glorfindel’s natural inclination to help others often leads him to accidentally let things slip. His face gives away everything, so when he’s holding onto a secret, he often acts unusually anxious or distracted.

𖤓 He’s fiercely protective of his privacy. While Glorfindel is generous and open with his friends, his private life is his sanctuary. He rarely shares personal details, preferring to keep his innermost thoughts and feelings private. He can be very secretive when it comes to matters of the heart, and it’s only in the deepest, most trusting relationships that he will let down his guard.

𖤓 He’s great at giving advice, but doesn’t always follow it himself. Glorfindel is wise beyond measure and often gives excellent advice to those around him. However, when it comes to his own personal life, he’s prone to overthinking or holding onto old wounds. While he’ll offer guidance to others, he struggles with taking his own advice at times.

𖤓 He has an infectious laugh. Glorfindel’s laughter is the kind that fills the air with lightness. It’s joyful, carefree, and utterly contagious. When he laughs, you can’t help but join in, whether it’s from something truly funny or just from the sheer happiness he radiates. His laughter is a symbol of his sunny disposition and positive energy.

𖤓 He’s a huge fan of simple pleasures. Glorfindel finds joy in the little things in life—feeling the warmth of the sun on his face, listening to birdsong, or sipping on a cup of tea with friends. His gratitude for the simple pleasures of life is part of what makes him so radiant. He knows how to savor the moments that others might take for granted.

𖤓 Glorfindel talks to his horses like they’re people. He’s often seen having conversations with them, especially before or after battle. He believes they can understand him, and he’s always sure to give them the best care, often speaking to them in a soothing, affectionate tone. He’d probably be upset if someone didn’t show proper respect to them.

𖤓 He hates when people underestimate him based on his beauty. Glorfindel knows his golden hair and striking appearance can lead people to think he’s just a pretty face. He gets frustrated when people assume he’s all show and no substance—he’s more than capable, and he doesn’t need to prove it to anyone, but it still bothers him when they don’t realize his strength.

𖤓 Glorfindel is a sucker for romantic gestures. He’s incredibly private about it, but Glorfindel would love for someone to surprise him with a romantic gesture—something simple but meaningful like a handwritten letter or a thoughtful, personal gift. He might hide it, but his heart melts every time.

𖤓 Glorfindel never forgets a kindness. If someone does something small or kind for him, even if it’s something as simple as offering him a meal when he’s exhausted, he remembers it for years. He holds onto those moments of human (or elven) connection and returns the favor tenfold.

𖤓 He loves the sound of rain. Despite being a warrior and a fierce fighter, Glorfindel has a peaceful side. He finds comfort in the sound of rain—when he’s away from the battlefield, he’ll often find a quiet place to sit and listen to the rain, letting the soothing sound wash over him.

𖤓 He loves being surrounded by his closest friends. Glorfindel enjoys company and the camaraderie of those who truly understand him. He’s not the type to seek out large crowds but rather treasures intimate gatherings of friends. Whether it’s sharing stories, playing games, or simply enjoying a meal together, he values these moments of peace.

𖤓 He lights up any room he enters. When Glorfindel walks into a space, his bright presence brings an immediate sense of joy and calm. His smile, glowing with sincerity, seems to make everything brighter, and his easy laughter is infectious. Even on the darkest days, his optimism and warmth shine through, helping everyone around him feel just a little bit lighter

𖤓 He’s the ultimate sunshine friend. Glorfindel will always check in on his loved ones with a warm, “How are you doing today?” He’ll make sure you’re taken care of, offering support when you need it and reminding you of your worth. Whether it’s sharing a funny story or just sitting in companionable silence, he has a way of making even the simplest moments feel like sunshine.

𖤓 He has an unsettling talent for appearing behind people silently. If Glorfindel wants to make an entrance, he’ll do it so silently that people won’t even notice him until he speaks. He’ll stand in the doorway, perfectly still, and wait for someone to notice him. When they finally do, he’ll just smile and say, “I’ve been here for a while.”

𖤓 He can’t stand rudeness or disrespect, especially toward women. Glorfindel was raised to treat others with the utmost respect, especially women, and it infuriates him when he sees someone treating others poorly. He might not start a confrontation, but there’s always a look of quiet fury in his eyes when he sees injustice or cruelty.

𖤓 He’s very protective of children. Glorfindel may not have any children of his own, but he is fiercely protective of the young. He’s often found teaching them, giving them guidance, and always watching out for them in battle or in everyday life. His soft spot for them is something few people see, but it’s one of his most tender traits.

𖤓 He occasionally likes to “haunt” his friends for fun. Glorfindel has a mischievous side, and sometimes, he’ll make himself scarce just to make people think he’s disappeared. Then he’ll pop up suddenly, making them jump, and laugh at their startled reactions. He finds it amusing, though he’s always careful not to take it too far.

[novaursa]

A Lion's Folly (absolution)

- Summary: A story where a lion falls for the eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark, you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Jaime Lannister

- Note: Keep in mind how things have been altered from the canon to fit the narrative of this story better.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (blood, violence, slight gore)

- Previous part: the brave

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @butterflygxril

The Brave Companions had been marching steadily for days, their campfires burning low at night, their tempers growing shorter with each passing hour. You had been uncharacteristically quiet, your glares aimed more at Vargo than Jaime. Something had been brewing, he could see it in the set of your jaw and the way your eyes flicked to the woods whenever they stopped to rest.

It came to a head two nights later.

The camp was dim, the fire little more than embers. Vargo’s men were scattered, their guard lax after days of marching. You sat not far from Brienne, who remained bound but defiant, her bruised face shadowed by the weak light. Winter, ever the loyal protector, had yet to return, and Jaime found himself hoping the wolf stayed away.

Jaime was watching you—he’d grown accustomed to it, much as he tried to pretend otherwise—when he noticed the subtle shift. Your hand brushed your boot, your fingers closing around something hidden there. A blade, small and sharp. Jaime’s breath caught as you moved with deliberate slowness, your gaze darting to the nearest guards. You waited until their heads turned before springing into action.

The blade flashed in the firelight, slicing through your bonds with practiced precision. You didn’t hesitate, lunging toward the woods with surprising speed. For a moment, Jaime thought you might make it. The shadows of the trees were close, the promise of escape tantalizingly near.

But then the shout came.

“She’s running!” one of the guards bellowed, scrambling to his feet.

Chaos erupted as the Brave Companions surged after you, their shouts echoing through the forest. Jaime stood instinctively, his eyes following your retreating figure as you weaved through the trees. You were fast, faster than he expected, but the Companions were hunters, and they moved as a pack.

Vargo’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding. “Bring her back! Alive!”

Jaime’s stomach twisted as he saw two men break ahead of the group, their longer strides closing the gap.

“Dammit,” he muttered under his breath, unable to tear his eyes away.

You fought like a cornered animal when they caught you. You managed to wound one man, your blade finding his thigh, but the second tackled you to the ground. Your scream of frustration cut through the night, raw and desperate, as the others descended on you.

When they dragged you back into the clearing, your face was bloodied, your clothes torn, but your spirit remained unbroken. You thrashed against their grip, spitting curses that would make a sailor blush. Vargo approached with a twisted grin, his crooked teeth bared like a predator savoring its prey.

“Well, well,” he sneered, his voice thick with amusement. “The little wolf thought she could slip away. How foolish.”

“Let me go, you bastard!” you hissed, your voice hoarse but defiant.

Vargo chuckled, his dark eyes gleaming. “Oh, I don’t think so. You’ve caused enough trouble. It’s time we teach you your place.”

“Don’t touch her,” Jaime said sharply, stepping forward before he could stop himself.

All eyes turned to him, the clearing falling eerily silent. Vargo’s grin widened, and he tilted his head, clearly amused.

“And what will you do, Kingslayer?” he sneered. “You’re in no position to make demands.”

Jaime met his gaze evenly, his jaw tightening. “If you want to make it to Harrenhal alive, I suggest you keep her unharmed. Robb Stark may already have his suspicions about Bolton. If he hears you’ve mistreated her, there won’t be a corner of Westeros safe for you.”

Vargo’s smile faltered for the briefest moment before returning, though the flicker of uncertainty didn’t escape Jaime’s notice.

“This again? You’re quite the loyal protector, aren’t you?” Vargo said mockingly, stepping closer to Jaime. “But don’t think I don’t see through you. You’re not protecting her for Stark’s sake. You’re protecting her for your own.”

Jaime didn’t respond, his eyes flicking to you. Your defiance hadn’t wavered, but there was a shadow of exhaustion in your expression, a flicker of something more vulnerable beneath the surface.

“Chain her,” Vargo commanded, his voice cold. “If she tries anything again, she’ll regret it.”

The men obeyed, dragging you to a tree and securing your wrists with heavy iron chains. You struggled, but the fight was leaving you, your strength sapped by the relentless days of captivity.

Jaime watched as they stepped away, leaving you slumped against the tree, your chest heaving with exertion. His hands curled into fists at his sides, the helplessness threatening to overwhelm him.

Vargo gestured to his men, his grin returning. “Take the Kingslayer. Separate him from the rest. I’ll deal with him privately before we reach Harrenhal. Perhaps Tywin will enjoy seeing what’s left of his son after a Stark bannerman delivers him.”

As Jaime was dragged away, he glanced back at you, your head bowed but your spirit unbroken. He didn’t know why he cared so much, why your suffering twisted something deep inside him. But one thing was certain: he would find a way to end this.

The forest seemed to close in as Vargo Hoat led Jaime to a secluded area away from the main camp. The Brave Companions flanked him on either side, their mismatched armor clinking with every step. Jaime’s mind raced, though he kept his expression carefully neutral. He knew what was coming—Vargo had been too clear in his intentions to leave any room for doubt.

His right hand.

It wasn’t just the loss that gnawed at him; it was the implications. Vargo wanted Tywin to believe Roose Bolton had been behind it, a ploy to fracture alliances and sow chaos. Jaime clenched his fists, willing his breath to stay even. If he showed fear, Vargo would relish it.

They stopped in a small clearing, the faint glow of the campfire barely visible through the trees. Vargo turned, his crooked grin widening as he drew his curved sword.

“Well, Kingslayer,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery. “I did warn you about causing trouble. Now, it’s time to make you a little less… dangerous.”

Jaime smirked faintly, though the effort took more willpower than he cared to admit. “And here I thought you’d at least buy me a drink first, goat.”

Vargo chuckled, motioning for one of his men to hold Jaime’s arm. “Oh, I’ll make it quick. But not painless.”

The blade gleamed in the dim light, and Jaime forced himself to hold Vargo’s gaze, refusing to flinch. He knew what was about to happen, but he wouldn’t give the goat the satisfaction of seeing him break.

The blade came down.

You sat chained beside Brienne, the iron biting into your wrists as two of Vargo’s men stood nearby, their weapons drawn. Brienne’s posture was as rigid as ever, her eyes blazing with fury despite her bruised face and bound hands. The camp around you was eerily quiet, the usual chatter of the Brave Companions muted.

Your chest felt tight, your mind racing as you replayed the events of your failed escape. You should have known better, should have anticipated their response. But you couldn’t sit idly by while Jaime and Brienne were dragged toward an uncertain fate—and worse, you couldn’t let yourself fall into despair about your sisters.

Brienne shifted beside you, her voice low. “What are they doing with him?”

You glanced toward the trees where Jaime had been taken, your heart sinking. “Something cruel,” you muttered, your voice shaking slightly despite your best efforts to sound composed.

Brienne clenched her jaw, her muscles straining against her bonds. “Vargo Hoat is a monster. Whatever he’s planning, it will be to make a statement. That’s all he knows—violence and cruelty.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the chains. “He’s not my concern.”

Brienne turned her sharp gaze toward you, her blue eyes narrowing. “He should be. If they break him, we’ll lose any chance we have of surviving this. We need him alive—and whole.”

Before you could respond, a blood-curdling scream tore through the air. Your heart stopped as you recognized the voice.

Jaime.

You shot to your feet instinctively, the chains rattling as the guards stepped forward to shove you back down. “Stay put, Stark,” one of them growled, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

You glared up at him, the fire in your chest burning hotter. “What are they doing to him?”

The guard smirked. “Just teaching the lion his place.”

Brienne’s fists clenched, her voice low and seething. “Bastards.”

You turned your gaze back toward the woods, your stomach twisting with unease. The scream echoed in your ears, louder than it should have been, and you couldn’t shake the image of Jaime—the proud, arrogant knight—reduced to this.

“He’s Tywin Lannister’s son,” you said quietly, your voice trembling with anger. “If they harm him, they’ll pay for it.”

Brienne nodded, her expression grim. “But we’ll pay for it too. We need to think carefully. Every move we make from here on out will determine whether we live—or die.”

Your hands tightened into fists, the iron chains digging into your skin as you stared at the treeline, waiting for any sign of what was happening.

Jaime’s scream faded into the night, leaving only silence. But it was the kind of silence that promised more pain, more blood, and more despair.

And as the firelight flickered in the corner of your vision, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was any way out of this nightmare.

The forest clearing seemed quieter now, the chaos of earlier hours replaced by an uneasy stillness. You and Brienne remained chained near the dimming fire, guarded by two of Vargo’s men. The cold bit into your skin, but you barely felt it, your focus locked on the dark woods beyond the camp.

When the sound of footsteps broke the silence, you turned, your breath hitching. Jaime was being dragged back into the clearing by two of the Brave Companions. His face was pale, his steps unsteady, and his right arm hung limply at his side. The crude bandage wrapped around the stump where his hand once was did little to stop the blood seeping through.

You inhaled sharply, your stomach twisting at the sight. Jaime stumbled as they pushed him forward, catching himself awkwardly with his left hand. The smirk he usually wore was gone, replaced by a look of exhaustion and pain.

“Set him there,” one of the guards barked, motioning toward the tree near you and Brienne. The men shoved Jaime down, and he slumped against the trunk, his breath shallow as he leaned his head back, eyes closing briefly.

Brienne’s voice cut through the stillness, low and furious. “What did they do to you, Lannister?”

Jaime opened his eyes, his usual bravado faint but present. “Just a little lesson in humility,” he muttered, his voice rasping. “Apparently, I’ve been too full of myself lately.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, the sight of him like this stirring an uncomfortable mix of emotions. You didn’t pity him—you told yourself you couldn’t—but you couldn’t deny the weight pressing on your chest.

After a moment, you spoke, your voice colder than you intended. “You shouldn’t have defended me.”

Jaime turned his head slightly to look at you, his expression unreadable. “They would’ve done it anyway,” he replied quietly. “If not for you, then for something else. It’s the price of being Tywin Lannister’s son.”

You narrowed your eyes, your jaw tightening. “And the price of being Tywin Lannister’s son is a fitting punishment for someone like you.”

Jaime chuckled weakly, though it came out more as a ragged exhale. “Fitting, perhaps. But not particularly enjoyable.”

Brienne’s gaze shifted between the two of you, her brow furrowed. “They’ll keep pushing until you’re broken,” she said, her voice heavy with warning. “That’s what Vargo wants—control. He thrives on suffering.”

“I’m well aware of that, thank you,” Jaime replied, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness.

You watched him carefully, noting the way his left hand twitched as if it were trying to compensate for the loss of the right. Despite the pain etched across his face, there was a stubbornness in his eyes that refused to yield.

“Why did you do it?” you asked suddenly, your voice softer now, though still guarded. “Why defend me at all? You hate my family. You hate me.”

Jaime sighed, leaning his head back against the tree. “Hate’s a strong word,” he said after a moment. “But if it makes you feel better to think that, go ahead. As for why…” He paused, his gaze meeting yours briefly before flicking to the fire. “Let’s just say I’ve been around enough people like Vargo to know when something needs to be said. If I hadn’t, things might’ve been worse. For all of us.”

You stared at him, your mind racing with thoughts you didn’t dare voice.

“You’re a fool,” you said finally, your tone quieter but no less bitting.

“Probably,” Jaime agreed, closing his eyes again. “But even fools have their uses.”

The camp fell silent once more, the crackling of the fire the only sound as the night deepened. Brienne shifted slightly beside you, her chains clinking softly as she adjusted her position. Jaime remained still, his breathing shallow but steady.

You looked away, your hands tightening around the chains that bound you. Whatever was coming next, you knew it wouldn’t be easy. But as you glanced back at Jaime, his head tilted against the tree, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to him than the arrogant, reckless man you’d always believed him to be.

For now, though, there was no time for reflection. Survival was all that mattered, and the road ahead was only growing darker.

The looming silhouette of Harrenhal grew closer with each passing hour, its jagged towers and scorched walls a grim reminder of the war’s toll. The air seemed heavier here, thick with decay and despair. Jaime felt it pressing against his chest, though the weight of his thoughts far surpassed the weight of the place itself.

His right arm throbbed incessantly, the crude bandages wrapped around the stump now damp with blood and pus. The infection was spreading—he could feel it in the fever that crept through his body, in the weakness that made every step more difficult than the last.

Jaime Lannister, the golden lion of Casterly Rock, reduced to this.

He walked in silence, trailing slightly behind the group. His usual wit and biting remarks had abandoned him days ago, replaced by the quiet hum of pain and exhaustion. Vargo Hoat and his men had taken notice of his diminished state, their taunts growing louder and crueler as they marched. But Jaime barely heard them now. His focus had narrowed, his thoughts circling the same unrelenting truths.

You walked ahead of him, your posture rigid, your steps purposeful. The chains around your wrists clinked softly with each movement, a reminder of your captivity. Brienne walked near you, her gaze flicking back to Jaime every so often, her concern evident despite her own injuries.

Jaime’s eyes lingered on you, his thoughts churning with a mix of longing and bitterness. You hadn’t looked at him since the previous night when you’d told him to hold on. He knew the words had been for your sisters’ sake, nothing more. But still, they had stuck with him, echoing in his mind like a ghost he couldn’t shake.

“Hold on just a little longer.”

How simple it sounded. How impossible it felt.

His steps faltered slightly, and Brienne slowed her pace, her eyes narrowing as she glanced back at him. “Lannister,” she said sharply, her voice cutting through the haze. “You need to keep moving.”

“I’m moving, aren’t I?” he replied, his voice hoarse. But even he could hear the weakness in his tone.

Brienne’s frown deepened, but she didn’t respond, her focus returning to the path ahead.

You glanced back briefly, your eyes meeting his for the first time in what felt like hours. Your expression was hard to read—was it concern? Frustration? Jaime didn’t know, and he hated that he cared.

“You’re slowing us down,” you said flatly, though your voice lacked its usual bite. “If you don’t keep up, they’ll drag you the rest of the way.”

Jaime smirked faintly, though the effort sent a fresh wave of pain through his arm. “I’ll try not to ruin the rhythm of the procession,” he muttered.

You stopped walking then, turning fully to face him. The guards barked in irritation, but you ignored them, your focus entirely on Jaime.

“Just hold on a little longer,” you said, your voice quieter now. “We’re almost there.”

Jaime’s smirk faded, replaced by something closer to resignation. He knew why you were saying it. You needed him alive. Without him, your sisters’ safety would be in jeopardy. It had nothing to do with him—nothing personal.

But the way your eyes lingered on him, the faint tension in your brow, made him want to believe otherwise.

“I suppose I owe you that much,” he said softly, his gaze dropping to the ground.

You didn’t reply immediately, but when you turned back toward the path, Jaime caught a glimpse of something in your expression—something fleeting and indecipherable.

The rest of the march passed in a blur of pain and exhaustion. Harrenhal loomed closer, its broken towers casting long shadows over the forest. Jaime’s body screamed for rest, but he forced himself to keep moving, his left hand gripping his side as if that alone could steady him.

The infection burned through him, a relentless fire that made his thoughts sluggish and his steps unsteady. But through it all, one thought remained clear, piercing through the haze like a blade.

You.

Every glance, every word, every retort—it stayed with him, filling the silence when the pain grew too loud. He told himself it was ridiculous, that you were a Stark, that you despised him. But it didn’t matter.

You were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

As they neared Harrenhal’s gates, Jaime glanced at you one last time, his vision blurring slightly from the fever. You walked with your head high, your chains clinking softly, your determination unshaken.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, Jaime allowed himself to hope.

Not for himself. Not for redemption.

But for you.

The gates of Harrenhal loomed like a giant maw, jagged and broken, swallowing all who dared enter. The once-mighty castle was a shadow of its former self, its walls blackened by dragonfire and its halls steeped in death. The atmosphere was suffocating, the air heavy with decay and despair.

Jaime stumbled as they were marched through the gates, his fever-addled mind struggling to stay focused. His right arm hung uselessly at his side, the hastily wrapped bandages doing little to stem the infection festering beneath. Every step sent jolts of pain radiating through his body, but he clenched his teeth and forced himself to keep moving.

You and Brienne walked ahead of him, your chains rattling with each step. Your posture was rigid, your eyes scanning the grim surroundings with barely concealed disgust. Brienne’s face was stoic, but her clenched fists betrayed her tension. Vargo Hoat rode alongside his men, his twisted grin widening as they approached the central courtyard, where Roose Bolton awaited.

The Lord of the Dreadfort stood in the center of the crumbling courtyard, his pale face impassive, his cold, calculating eyes taking in the scene before him. Clad in black and grey, he looked every bit the predator that his reputation suggested.

Vargo dismounted with an exaggerated flourish, his voice grating as he called out, “My lord Bolton! I bring you a gift worthy of your station—the Kingslayer himself!”

Roose’s eyes flicked to Jaime, his expression unreadable. He stepped forward slowly, his gaze narrowing as he took in Jaime’s condition.

“This is the Kingslayer?” he said, his tone as calm and cold as a winter breeze. “He looks half-dead.”

Vargo chuckled, though the sound was nervous. “A small… accident, my lord. But he still lives.”

Roose’s gaze lingered on Jaime’s fevered face, his pale lips pressing into a thin line. “An accident,” he repeated, his voice flat. “You’ve rendered him nearly useless. Lord Tywin will not be pleased.”

At the mention of his father, Jaime forced himself to straighten, ignoring the wave of dizziness that threatened to consume him. “Where is my father?” he asked, his voice rasping but steady.

Roose’s gaze shifted to him, and for a moment, there was a flicker of amusement in his otherwise impassive expression. “He is not here,” he replied simply. “He has left for other matters.”

The answer struck Jaime harder than he expected. If Tywin wasn’t at Harrenhal, then whatever hope Jaime had of immediate salvation was gone. He glanced at you briefly, noting the tension in your posture as Roose’s attention shifted to you.

“And who is this?” Roose asked, his voice as smooth as silk. “A Stark, no less. A rare prize.”

You lifted your chin defiantly, your eyes blazing as Roose stepped closer. “The wolf cub,” he said softly, his tone almost mocking. “How far from the pack you’ve strayed.”

Without hesitation, you spat at him, the glob of saliva landing near his feet.

The courtyard fell silent, the dread palpable as Roose regarded you with a slight tilt of his head. Vargo’s men moved instantly, yanking you back roughly by your chains, causing you to stumble.

“Careful,” Roose said sharply, his tone cutting through the air like a blade. “Do not harm her. A Stark must remain intact if we are to have any use for her.”

The men hesitated, their grips loosening slightly as they glanced nervously at their lord.

Roose turned back to you, his pale eyes narrowing. “You have fire,” he said softly, almost to himself. “A trait you share with your brother. Let us hope it does not consume you.”

You glared at him, your breathing heavy but steady, refusing to look away.

Roose’s gaze shifted back to Vargo. “Get them cleaned and seen to,” he ordered, his tone brisk. “Their current state is unacceptable. They are to be treated as prisoners of value, not cattle.”

Vargo opened his mouth to protest but quickly thought better of it. “As you command, my lord.”

The guards moved to escort the three of you deeper into Harrenhal, their grips firm but less rough than before. Jaime stumbled again as they marched, his strength waning with each step.

“Hold on, Lannister,” you said suddenly, your voice low but steady.

He glanced at you, his expression a mix of exhaustion and bitterness. “For your sisters’ sake, I presume?” he muttered.

You didn’t reply, your gaze fixed ahead as the grim halls of Harrenhal swallowed you whole.

Jaime’s thoughts churned as he walked, the pain in his arm nearly unbearable. Roose Bolton’s presence added a new layer of unease to the already dire situation. But as he glanced at you one last time, your defiance unbroken despite the chains, he found himself clinging to the faintest shred of resolve.

If you could stand tall in the face of this nightmare, then perhaps he could too. For now.

The air in the stone bathhouse was thick with steam, damp and suffocating, yet it carried a sense of relief—a reprieve from the grime and blood that clung to them after days of captivity. Jaime stumbled slightly as he was led inside, his body aching and fevered, but his keen gaze quickly took in the scene before him.

You and Brienne had already been brought here, seated in one of the large stone baths partially filled with hot water. Neither spoke. You were scrubbing at your arms, your movements methodical, your focus elsewhere as though the world around you barely registered. Brienne, by contrast, sat rigid and alert, her broad frame hunched slightly, her eyes darting toward the entrance the moment Jaime appeared.

Jaime’s first thought, despite himself, was of you.

The steam blurred the air between you, softening the harsh edges of the moment. Your hair clung to your damp skin, your movements precise as you worked to rid yourself of the dirt and sweat of the journey. There was something about the quiet determination in your expression, the way you seemed to block out the world, that drew his attention.

Not that he could dwell on it for long.

Brienne gasped, her eyes widening as Jaime stepped forward. “You shouldn’t be here!” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of alarm and outrage.

“Relax, Brienne,” Jaime said, his tone dry, though his steps were unsteady. “I’m hardly here to steal your modesty. Though I’m sure the gods are watching with bated breath.”

Brienne turned scarlet, scurrying to the far end of the bath and splashing water as she moved. “There’s another bath chamber next door. Use that one!”

Jaime smirked faintly, leaning heavily against the stone edge. “I’d love to, truly, but I doubt I’ll make it another step without keeling over. So, unless you’d prefer to haul me there yourself…”

“You’re impossible,” Brienne muttered, averting her gaze.

You didn’t react, your focus still on scrubbing your arms, your fingers working the grime from your skin. Jaime’s smirk faltered as he glanced at you, his chest tightening with something he couldn’t quite name.

She doesn’t care, he thought bitterly. Of course, she doesn’t. To her, I’m just a pawn, a means to an end for her sisters’ safety.

Still, he couldn’t help but admire your composure, the way you carried yourself even now. It was infuriating, really, how you seemed untouched by the vulnerability of the moment, your focus unwavering as though you had nothing to hide.

Jaime eased himself into the water with a hiss, the heat stinging his wounds and sending a jolt of pain through his arm. He clenched his jaw, refusing to let it show, though his breathing came quicker for a moment.

Brienne glared at him from her corner of the bath, her expression a mix of disgust and frustration. “You have no shame, do you?”

“Shame?” Jaime echoed, his smirk returning faintly despite the discomfort. “I left that behind in King’s Landing. Or perhaps it was when I was chained to a tree and left to rot. Hard to keep track these days.”

Brienne’s lips pressed into a thin line, her anger simmering beneath the surface. “You mock everything—honor, duty, decency. Is there nothing sacred to you?”

Jaime’s gaze darkened, the smirk fading as his eyes locked onto hers. “Honor and duty,” he said quietly, his tone sharp. “Words people like you cling to so you can pretend the world isn’t as cruel as it is. Tell me, Brienne—what has honor earned you? A lifetime of being ridiculed? A chain around your neck? Or is it your blind loyalty that’s brought you to this fine establishment?”

Brienne’s fists clenched, her glare intensifying. “I serve my lady and her family because it is right. Because it is what I swore to do. You, Lannister, wouldn’t understand that.”

Jaime leaned back against the edge of the bath, his head tilting slightly as his gaze flicked to you. “And what about her?” he asked, nodding toward you. “What does she fight for? Honor? Duty? Or something else entirely?”

You paused briefly, your fingers stilling on your arm as you glanced at him. Your expression was unreadable, your eyes meeting his for the briefest moment before you turned away.

“It doesn’t matter what I fight for,” you said simply, your voice calm but distant. “What matters is surviving. And right now, that means all of us making it out of here alive.”

Jaime studied you for a moment longer, his chest tightening again. He wanted to say something, to challenge your words, but the fatigue in your voice stopped him. You weren’t wrong, after all. Survival was all that mattered now.

“Wise words,” Jaime said finally, his tone softer but no less cutting. “But don’t think for a moment that survival comes without a price. It always does.”

The room fell silent then.

The steam of the bathhouse wrapped around them like a shroud, thick and suffocating, but Jaime hardly noticed. The heat barely dulled the gnawing pain in his arm, and the weight of his fever pressed heavier with every passing moment. He leaned against the edge of the bath, his breaths shallow, his smirk hanging on by a thread.

Brienne, ever the sentinel of honor, glared at him from her corner of the bath. Her face twisted with disgust as she finally broke the heavy silence.

“You’re nothing more than a Kingslayer,” she spat, her voice shaking with anger. “You speak of honor and duty as if you understand them, but all you’ve done is betray them. You broke your oath. You stabbed your king in the back.”

The word—Kingslayer—cut deeper than any blade. Jaime’s jaw tightened, his smirk faltering.

He turned his head slowly to look at her, his fevered eyes gleaming in the torchlight. “Do you think you know the whole story, Brienne?” His voice was soft but razor-sharp. “Do you think it’s that simple? That I killed him because I’m some honorless villain in your tale?”

Brienne didn’t flinch, but her lips pressed into a thin line. “You betrayed your vows,” she said coldly. “You took an oath to protect him, to serve him, and you—”

“I saved them all,” Jaime snapped, his voice rising. The sudden movement sent a wave of dizziness crashing over him, and he gripped the edge of the bath to steady himself.

You looked up sharply, the stiffness in your shoulders evident as you turned your gaze to him. Jaime’s breath hitched as your eyes lingered on his face, but he pressed on, unable to stop the words that spilled from him.

“Do you know what Aerys Targaryen was?” Jaime continued, his voice shaking now—not with fear, but with something deeper, something darker. “The Mad King. Do you know what he planned to do?”

Neither you nor Brienne spoke, but the silence was answer enough. Jaime’s chest heaved as he laughed bitterly. “He ordered his pyromancers to burn the city. All of it. Every man, woman, and child in King’s Landing. He told me to bring him my father’s head, and when I refused, he said he’d light the fires.”

His voice cracked as he leaned forward, his fever-bright eyes boring into Brienne’s. “So, tell me, Lady Brienne—should I have kept my vow? Should I have stood by and let him turn the city to ash? Should I have let him burn thousands alive to preserve my ‘honor’?”

The words hung heavy in the air, the steam swirling around them like smoke. Brienne’s face paled, her mouth opening as if to speak, but no words came.

Jaime sagged against the edge of the bath, his strength draining as his confession unraveled something inside him. “I killed him,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I plunged my sword into his back and watched him die because I had to. Because no one else would.”

His vision blurred, the fever clouding his mind as he slumped forward, his hand slipping from the bath’s edge. Before he could hit the water, your hands were there, catching him, holding him steady.

“Jaime,” you said sharply, your voice cutting through the haze.

He blinked, his head lolling as he tried to focus on you. Your touch was firm but careful, your hands gripping his shoulders as you eased him back against the edge of the bath. The heat of the water and the warmth of your hands blurred together, grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Brienne’s voice broke the moment, sharp and panicked. “Guards! Guards!” she shouted, her voice echoing off the stone walls.

Jaime let out a weak laugh, though it sounded more like a cough. “Let them come,” he muttered, his voice slurred. “Let them hear the tale of the honorable Kingslayer.”

You ignored Brienne’s cries, your focus entirely on him. “Jaime, stop,” you said, your tone firm but not unkind. “You’re burning up. You need to calm down.”

His fevered eyes searched yours, something raw and unspoken passing between you. He hated how much he wanted this—your touch, your presence. He hated how it made him feel like he wasn’t entirely broken.

“I saved them,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “And they call me a traitor. They call me a monster.”

Your grip tightened slightly, your expression softening for the briefest moment. “You did what you had to,” you said quietly.

Jaime’s chest ached, not from the fever or the infection, but from the weight of your words. He wanted to believe you meant them, that there was something real in your voice, but he couldn’t let himself. Not now. Not ever.

As the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder, Jaime closed his eyes, exhaustion finally overtaking him. Your hands remained steady, holding him upright as the steam swirled around you both.

And Jaime Lannister allowed himself to feel the smallest flicker of absolution.