#will never get over it until it's resolved

[starlightkun]

➺ word count: 23.6k ➺ genre: two bodies one soul au, enemies to begrudging roomies to lovers, acquaintances of extreme inconvenience, fluff, humor, some hurt/comfort, there’s some moments with probably more horny energy than is warranted (sungchan and reader r always bickering/squaring up and sometimes it gets physical and everyone’s just like… uhm… that’s not how ppl fight y’all…), not actually a soulmate au bc even tho reader and sungchan technically do share a soul it’s not an inherently romantic thing in this world ➺ warnings: FLAWED CHARACTERS, reader and sungchan r both kinda mean to each other at the beginning (see first genre tag please) for sympathetic(?) but also not great reasons, reader does something knowing it will inflict physical pain on sungchan (i once again refer u to the first genre tag), descriptions of physical pain and injury, blood/needle/hospital depictions ➺ author’s note: omg starlightkun hiatus over? i didn’t mean to be gone for so long but moving was crazy. anyway, i actually had like the first 19k of this written before i moved (feb-ish) and just had to write the last couple scenes to finish it up. this one was so much fun tho! i love the worldbuilding i did, and also rlly had a good time with reader and sungchan’s characters

“This isn’t fucking fair!”

“Tell me about it,” Sungchan muttered.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” You yelled, slammed the door shut, and stormed off towards your house.

“I know!” He called after you derisively.

Soulbound. That was the diagnosis that your parents had been handed when you were just a few days old. It wasn’t that you had half a soul, you had a whole one, you just shared it with someone else. One Jung Sungchan, another baby born just down the hall. While two people being soulbound was rare enough, it almost always happened in the instance of multiple births (twins, triplets, etc.). It was practically unheard of to occur between strangers—your families had never met before, the only thing you had in common was physical proximity at your births. But apparently you both had started experiencing symptoms of soulsickness the first night your respective families took you home from the hospital, which resolved upon being rushed back to that very same emergency room. The astute pediatrician who examined both of you put two and two together, and from then on, you hadn’t gone a single day without seeing Sungchan.

Your families moved next door to each other, you were enrolled in the same schools and classes in grade school, tagged along to each other’s extracurriculars, took family vacations together, got your first jobs at the shoe store at the mall, and even had to compromise on what university to attend and coordinate your class schedules. It was an absolute nuisance at best and an obstacle that prevented you from doing anything and everything you wanted at worst. Your options in life were limited by what Sungchan wanted, friendships were difficult to maintain since you had to accommodate his schedule as well (and you were never invited to sleepovers with the other girls), and God knows you’d never been able to really date like this—who would want to date someone that came with an obligatory third wheel forever?

“I have a job interview tomorrow, by the way,” you stated from Sungchan’s passenger seat, eyes focused on the passing buildings. He had gone to the gym this morning—bright and fucking early as always—which meant that you unfortunately had to go as well, since his gym was just far enough away that if he went alone, the distance would start putting stress on your soul. Sometimes you walked on a treadmill, but usually you sat in a corner on your phone until he was done.

“First I’ve heard of it,” he snorted.

“It’s your day off, stop bitching.”

He rolled his eyes. “What time?”

“Two. You’ll have to dress professional.”

“Yeah, right. I’m not interviewing.”

“But if I have to have you walk in with me, you can’t look like a fucking slob,” you pointed out.

“I’ll just wait in the car. Where is it?”

“Inverness & Wildwood.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re not going.”

“Yes, I am,” you insisted.

“No, you’re fucking not,” he retorted. “It’s the next city over.”

“I haven’t interviewed yet, I don’t know if I’d even get it.”

Sungchan pulled into his driveway, putting the car in park but not turning it off as he shot you a withering look, pointing to the house in front of him. “Y/N, we still live with our parents because we couldn’t agree on a dorm or apartment complex to move into in college.”

“So you’re going to force me to live with my parents for the rest of our lives?” You asked incredulously.

“You can’t force me to move somewhere!”

“I’m sorry I have career aspirations past the part-time job we got in high school!”

“You don’t even have to come to my job, but you’re expecting me to fucking move for yours!”

“I didn’t say that!” You were seeing red now. “Don’t put words in my mouth!”

Sungchan, meanwhile, looked like he was about to rip his own hair out. “It’s in another city, how exactly do you expect to work there without me and also without us fucking dying?”

“This isn’t fucking fair!” You grabbed the door handle and got out of the car.

Sungchan turned the car off and got out too. “Tell me about it,” he muttered.

“I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” You yelled, slammed the door shut, and stormed off towards your house.

“I know!” He called after you derisively.

Angry, hot tears burned your eyes and rolled down your cheeks as you fumbled to unlock your front door. You slammed that door shut too in your fury, ignoring your dad’s ‘good morning’ as you ran upstairs to your bedroom. This was so fucking unfair. Your whole life you were going to be stuck to a fucking underachiever who was apparently content with keeping the both of you living with your parents forever, never pursuing any dreams or aspirations beyond working at the place that you’d worked at since you were sixteen. What did you do to deserve this?

The car ride to the gym in the next morning was silent. You had your headphones in before you opened the car door, not even bothering to give Sungchan a ‘good morning’ or listen for if he said it to you. You stared out the passenger window with your arms crossed over your chest for the entire drive, wordlessly unbuckling and getting out once you arrived. After his workout, you followed him outside and got back in the car. Except he didn’t reverse out of the parking spot.

Finally, you looked over at Sungchan to find his eyes already on you, fixing you with an expecting look. He motioned for you to take an earbud out. Rolling your eyes, you did so, then waited for him to say whatever he wanted.

“Silent treatment?” He questioned, arching an eyebrow.

“It’s not like we’re friends,” you huffed, moving to put your earbud back in.

“Hey, wait,” he stopped you. “I’m sorry about your interview, alright?”

“Whatever, just forget about it.”

Sungchan buckled in and reversed out of the parking spot. “Isn’t there another firm like that in town? By the mall? You could see if they’re—”

“I said forget it, okay?” You snapped.

He held one of his hands up in surrender, and you put your earbud back in.

With one final adjustment of your blazer, you left your room, hurrying through your house. Your parents were at work, thankfully. You locked the front door behind you and walked right by your car parked out front. Sungchan’s was in his driveway, and you quickly turned down the sidewalk away from his house.

Halfway through your subway ride, you felt a twinge in your head, and grabbed the ibuprofen you had in your purse. You knocked back a couple tablets to keep the pain at bay. Your fingers drummed an anxious rhythm on your knee as you watched the electronic sign for your stop. You were on your feet before the doors opened, rushing out ahead of the other passengers.

A knot formed in your stomach when you emerged from the subway station into daylight, and not from nerves. You swallowed down the nausea, grabbing a ginger chew from your purse and continuing on.

Smiling at the older gentleman who held the door open for you on his way out of the building, you entered Inverness & Wildwood right as a sharp pain started up in your chest. You breathed through it, approaching the receptionist with a calm façade. You gave her your name and interview time, then followed her directions to the restroom that you had asked for.

After locking yourself in a stall, you rooted through your purse for the other pill bottle you had in there, for emergencies. Unfortunately, there was nothing to fully prevent soulsickness—aside from constantly being near Sungchan—but souLOXin could dull the symptoms for a little while. Shaking one of the red and black capsules out into your palm, you made a mental note to put in a refill later; you had less than a handful left. You swallowed it right as you got a text.

[sungchan 👎🍅: where are you?]

You turned your phone on silent and put it in your purse along with the pill bottle.

By the end of the interview, the pain in your abdomen had returned, and you gritted your teeth as you stood up to bow to the three interviewers and thanked them for the opportunity. One informed you they would let you know by the end of the week, and showed you to the elevator. As soon as the doors had closed and you were alone, you let out a groan, clutching your stomach and leaning against the wall for support. You composed yourself again when a ding! rang and you were let out into the lobby once more. Pressing on through your throbbing headache, you rushed down the sidewalks back to the subway, desperately taking another couple of ibuprofen tablets.

Standing on the platform waiting for the next train, you continued to take deep breaths, digging your nails into your clammy palms to distract yourself. Finally, it arrived, and you forced your way in as the doors were still opening. Dropping down into a seat, you let your head fall back against the window behind you and your eyes flutter shut.

Your guts finally started unwinding and the pounding in your head started dulling as you approached your stop. When the announcement was made, you got up, trudging off behind a few other passengers. Halfway back to your house, you were no longer nauseous, you just felt like you were getting over a bad cold—essentially, like shit.

Sungchan’s car wasn’t in the driveway, which you noted in the back of your mind as you walked into your own home and straight up to your bedroom. You eventually checked your phone after getting into your pajamas and crawling into bed.

Four missed calls from Sungchan and a dozen texts total.

[sungchan 👎🍅: y/n]

[sungchan 👎🍅: hello??? i can see your car]

Two calls in a row.

[sungchan 👎🍅: where the fuck are you]

[sungchan 👎🍅: don’t tell me you went to that fucking interview anyway]

Another call.

[sungchan 👎🍅: omfg y/n pick up]

[sungchan 👎🍅: im being so fucking fr rn pick up]

Another call.

[sungchan 👎🍅: im going to kill you if we die rn]

[sungchan 👎🍅: get the fuck back home right now im not kidding]

[sungchan 👎🍅: what the hell is wrong with you]

[sungchan 👎🍅: i just took my last poppys but if ur not back before it wears off im coming to get u idc]

Poppy—the nickname for souLOXin due to the coloring of the capsules. Sungchan always ran out first, the effects wearing off sooner for him than you for as long as the two of you had been taking it. According to the limited studies that had been done, there was some indication that men may metabolize it quicker than women, and of course the fact that he was a gym rat presumably did nothing to help in that department.

[sungchan 👎🍅: if u don’t call me in the next ten minutes im going]

[sungchan 👎🍅: ur the fucking worst that’s it im omw to inverness & wildwood. if u see this and ur somewhere else CALL ME]

He sent that last text six minutes ago. With a sigh, you reluctantly hit the phone icon next to his contact. The first ring didn’t even finish before he picked up.

“Where the fuck are you?” He demanded in lieu of a greeting.

“Home,” you deadpanned. “You can come back.”

“God, you are fucking impossible!” The sounds of screeching tires and car horns were audible in the background. “You went to the interview, didn’t you?”

You shrugged even though he couldn’t see it.

He must have taken your silence as a yes. “Fucking—Was it worth it? Huh?!”

“We lived, stop being so dramatic,” you scoffed. “Big tough guy can’t survive a little stomachache?”

“This time it was a stomachache. And what if I didn’t have any poppys?”

“That would’ve been your fault,” you snorted. “I’m not your mommy, you need to keep up on your own meds. Go get a refill since you’re already out.”

“They’re supposed to be for emergencies, Y/N, not when you want to just—”

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you pulled it away from your ear to see that there was another call incoming. Just in time, too, you didn’t have it in you to get lectured by Sungchan right now.

“Sorry, I’m getting another call,” you interrupted whatever he was saying loudly, not even bothering to attempt to sound actually apologetic. “Bye!”

Hanging up, you quickly accepted the other call from an unsaved number. “Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N Y/N?” It was an older woman on the other end, the voice familiar, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up quite yet.

“This is she,” you confirmed, quickly adjusting your voice from the tone that you had been talking to Sungchan in to a polite and enthusiastic one.

“Hi, Ms. Y/L/N, this is Kwon Siyeon, from Inverness & Wildwood. How are you?”

“Well, I’m well.” You scrambled to your feet, now anxiously pacing your room. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thank you. I’ll make this short—Everyone loved you, and we’d like to offer you the job.”

You pumped your fist in the air, turning towards your window just in time to see Sungchan’s car pull into his driveway, immediately killing all your enthusiasm.

“Before I can accept, there is one thing you need to know about me,” you said regretfully.

The hiring manager prompted you hesitantly, “Which is…?”

Just rip the band-aid off.

“I’m soulbound. He will need to be somewhere in the building while I work. Honestly, we can just stick him in the broom closet if it’s too much trouble.”

Ms. Kwon chuckled, thankfully not seeming to take that as a genuine suggestion. “We can of course provide accommodations for your brother. And if he’s in need of a job as well, we may also be able to arrange something depending on his skills.”

“Oh, no, he’s not my brother,” you quickly clarified. “We’re not related, just… soulbound.”

“Oh…” She paused, obviously not expecting that. “Well, like I said before, we can provide accommodations, and if he’d like to submit his CV, we can see if we’ve got something for him too.”

“I will talk to him.” You nodded, staring down Sungchan’s bedroom window that faced yours, his blinds closed. “Thank you so much, Ms. Kwon.”

“Of course. We will see you both on Monday, then?”

“Bright and early,” you confirmed.

“Great. Goodbye, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Goodbye.”

And now for the hard part.

Not even bothering to change back out of your pajamas, you shoved your feet into shoes and headed next door. You rang the doorbell and waited, bouncing from heel to toe. Sungchan’s groan was audible before he even opened the front door.

“If the first words out of your mouth aren’t ‘I’m sorry’, I swear to fucking God.” He was already scowling at you, a look that probably would’ve been terrifying if you hadn’t been on the receiving end thousands of times at this point in your life and survived. That was what was so frustrating about your relationship with Sungchan, the very thing that had you at each other’s throats constantly was also the only reason one of you hadn’t actually killed the other.

“I’m sorry.” You tried your hardest to sound and look sincere.

He stared you down, clearly unimpressed. “No, you’re not.”

You dropped your apologetic act but still tried to keep a light and friendly tone. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.”

“What do you want?”

“You didn’t get your refill while you were out, did you?” You surmised from how quick he’d returned. Pushing the pill bottle you’d grabbed on your way out into his hand, you forced a smile on your face. “Here, take mine. I’ll pick up a refill while you’re at work tomorrow.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, but pocketed the bottle anyway. He repeated, “What do you want?”

“Can I come in?”

Sungchan backed up, opening the door wider for you. You stepped inside, and he shut the door before pivoting on his heel and heading further into the house. Your families had bought two homes next door in a newly built subdivision right after your diagnosis as newborns. This meant that in addition to you two sharing a soul, your houses were literal mirror images of each other. While you would normally take a right from the kitchen to go upstairs to your bedroom, you now had to take a left to go up to Sungchan’s.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at you expectantly. You took a deep breath before just jumping right in.

“They offered me the job,” you said, bracing yourself for whatever reaction he would have. Anger, a rehashing of the fight you two had yesterday, a continuation of his ranting from today, all three in succession. His jaw clenched, but he surprisingly didn’t explode.

“…And?” He raised an eyebrow.

“And, I would like to accept it,” you stated the obvious, trying to keep your voice level and as non-venomous as possible. After all, you were asking for something big. “This could be the beginning of like, my dream career, so I would really appreciate it if you would consider doing this. I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about the interview beforehand, or when I applied. I shouldn’t have just dropped it on you like that. It was unfair. This isn’t an excuse, but I didn’t really want to tell anybody since I didn’t think I would even get an interview, much less a job. But I should’ve told you, though, of all people. And what I did today was selfish and awful too.”

Sungchan sighed, the resentment dropping from his features. “Shit, you actually mean it.”

You nodded quickly, clasping your hands together in front of you, quite literally pleading now. “I do. And the job pays really good, I can totally cover your expenses for the move, too. Please.”

“Wait, we couldn’t even agree on a building to live in separately during undergrad, and now you’re seriously offering to pay for me to move with you?”

“Until you find a job. We may share a soul, but I’m not gonna let you also mooch off me forever,” you snorted, making him shake his head, albeit with a hint of a smile. “Inverness & Wildwood have even offered to consider you for a job too if you want.”

He tapped his finger on his arm as he mulled it over, eyeing you contemplatively. “I probably would’ve been cool with going to the interview with you if you had talked to me about it first, you know. Sooner than the day before.”

“Right. I’m sorry.”

“We won’t have our parents to mediate, if we do this,” he pointed out. “We’ll have to actually discuss things with each other.”

“You’re really considering?” You asked with wide eyes.

“My mom always said I was wasting my potential being assistant manager of a shoe store. Don’t know if being a copy boy or whatever is really a step up, but—” He finished his sentence with a shrug.

“Absolutely no dragging the other person around to stuff. Communication and compromise,” you confirmed excitedly.

“When would you start?”

“Monday. Obviously we’d commute until we found a place to live nearby and—”

“Monday?”

You winced. “I can see about a later start date…”

“Monday’s fine,” he relented. “I’ll put in my notice tomorrow.”

“You will? Ah, thank you! Thank you!” You did a couple little hops with excitement, in absolute disbelief that he was actually agreeing to this.

A voice called Sungchan’s name from the first floor, and he stood up from his bed. “That’s my mom, she—Huh?”

He’d been caught off-guard by you throwing your arms around his middle in your elation, still absolutely buzzing.

“Thank you, Sungchan.” You beamed up at him.

He sighed and loosely returned the embrace, patting the top of your head. “Yeah, you’re welcome. You better love this job.”

His mom called for him again, and you let him go to head downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs, you spotted a familiar older woman bustling in from the garage with a bunch of bags of groceries.

“There’s a few more bags in the car, then I need you to help me put everything away,” she directed her son without even looking.

“Hi, Auntie,” you announced your presence quietly, making her whip around.

“Oh, Y/N!” Sungchan’s mom blinked at you, eyes going wide with surprise as she hurried to put all of it down on the kitchen counter and greet you. “It’s been a while, sweetie. How are you?”

Sungchan’s family had obviously watched you grow up, always being kind to you and treating you like one of their own. While your two sets of parents tried their best to foster a friendship between you as well as be equitable when it came to your joint schedule, there was no way they hadn’t noticed your obvious disdain for each other, especially when you got older and avoided the other as much as physically possible.

You accepted her hug, a soft smile on your face now. “I’m good, I’m good. I’ve actually got a job offer, which is what I came over here to talk to Sungchan about.”

She let you go to look between you two with curiosity. “A new job?”

“Y/N’s going to be a bigshot at Inverness & Wildwood,” Sungchan explained, leaning against the wall.

“That’s… far,” she said hesitantly.

“I’m going with her,” he ended the suspense quickly. “It’s a good opportunity for her, and I’m tired of selling shoes anyway.”

“They’re going to let me keep him in the supply closet while I’m at work,” you reassured her with a snicker.

She burst into laughter, wrapping her arms around you again and rubbing your back. “As long as you feed him.”

“I’ll let even him out for exercise.”

“I’m not a gerbil,” Sungchan grumbled.

“Ohh, I’m so proud of you, sweetie,” his mom sighed happily, entirely ignoring her son’s complaints.

“Thank you, Auntie,” you murmured sincerely.

Monday morning, you and Sungchan did arrive at Inverness & Wildwood bright and early as promised. You had gone out and gotten him a button up shirt and properly fitting slacks this weekend in preparation, and his less-than-one-week notice had been turned in at the shoe store. Taking a deep breath, you approached the reception desk.

“Hi, Y/L/N Y/N, today’s my first day,” you told the receptionist.

“Of course, welcome to Inverness & Wildwood.” She smiled at you, though her gaze trailed questioningly to Sungchan awkwardly standing a couple steps behind you.

“He’s with me, he’s uhm, he’s—we’re uhm—I’m soulbound, and he’s—”

“Ahh, yes, I do have a note here.” Her face lit up with recognition then eased, her focus returning to speak only to you. “If you’ll have a seat, I’ll buzz Ms. Kwon to let her know that you’re here, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Thank you.” You turned and went to sit on one of the chairs in the lobby, the elevator in your sights. Sungchan followed you, taking the seat opposite you.

“Smooth,” he snickered under his breath, slumping down and pulling his phone out.

“Shut up,” you hissed. “And sit up straight. Aren’t you trying to work here too?”

He had his résumé in his other hand, and while he rolled his eyes, he did straighten out his posture, scooting up in his chair. “Yeah, as like the gofer who gets everyone’s coffees.”

“Why don’t you have any real aspirations for your life?”

“Keeping everyone caffeinated is noble. Why do you turn your nose up at service workers?”

You gawped, caught off-guard at his biting question disguised as playful banter. “I don’t! It’s just that I know you can do more—”

“You’re still doing it.”

“Fine, new question—You were Dean’s List in college, graduated magna cum laude undergrad and summa in high school. Why don’t you want to do something in line with your studies?”

Sungchan tilted his head. “You paid that much attention to me?”

You lunged forward in your chair to lean as close to him as possible, dropping your voice to a whisper that only he could hear and jabbing your pointer finger against his chest indignantly. “Bitch, we’ve been attached at the soul for over two decades, I would’ve had to be braindead to not have retained some information about you. Don’t do this shit right now! I’m serious!”

“You always are.” He clicked his tongue.

At his silence that followed, you decided that you had won and backed away from him again. Keeping your chin up, you remained on the edge of your seat, crossing and uncrossing your legs at the knee nervously. Finally, you heard the elevator ding, and looked away from that direction, not wanting to stare directly at whoever was approaching, the sounds of their heels getting closer. Instead, you let your gaze fall back to Sungchan, who arched an eyebrow at you.

“Ms. Y/L/N?” A woman called your name out, and your head snapped over to her, a smile coming to your face as you immediately recognized Ms. Kwon, the hiring manager who had been present at your interview.

You quickly stood, Sungchan following your lead as you walked over to greet her just past the reception desk. “Good morning, Ms. Kwon, it’s great to see you again.” You bowed your head.

“You too, we’re very happy you accepted our offer,” she said warmly. “Both of you.”

“Yes, right.” You cleared your throat, before starting introductions, gesturing to Sungchan. “Ms. Kwon, this is Jung Sungchan. Sungchan, this is Ms. Kwon Siyeon, she’s the hiring manager here at Inverness & Wildwood.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” Sungchan said, shaking her hand that she had offered. “I appreciate you accommodating me.”

“Of course. It’s nice to meet you as well, Mr. Jung. Is that your résumé there?”

“Yes.”

She delicately snatched it from his grasp with two fingers, then looked back to you with a smile. “So, ready for orientation?”

“Absolutely.”

“We can leave Mr. Jung anywhere in the building, correct?”

“Yes, we’ll be fine at that distance.”

“Great.”

Ms. Kwon showed you to your desk first, and the one next to it happened to currently be vacant, so Sungchan was allowed to wait there while you continued your orientation. After briefly indicating him the bathroom and breakroom—in case he wanted to help himself to some coffee—Ms. Kwon whisked you away to her office. You went through your new employee paperwork, a powerpoint and other instructional materials, then you were off again. She brought you to another office, this time with ‘Oh Jieun’ on the outside.

Ms. Oh was to be your team leader and start off your training. After doing introductions, Ms. Kwon headed for the door again.

“I’ll be reviewing Mr. Jung’s résumé now. Call me if you need anything.”

“Please, take a seat, Y/N.” Ms. Oh gestured to one of the two armchairs across form her desk. To your surprise, she took the other one instead of sitting behind her desk again. “And you can call me Jieun, if you’re comfortable with that. Our team is pretty familiar with each other like that.”

“Maybe not yet,” you chuckled nervously.

“I understand.” She smiled. “I like to get to know my people a little first. Ms. Kwon did inform me that you’re soulbound, I’m assuming that’s who ‘Mr. Jung’ is?”

“Yes, Sungchan, yeah,” you confirmed.

“You’re not related…”

“No, we’re not. It was uh, a big surprise for our parents. Just happened somehow.”

“That must have been nice, though, growing up. Built-in brother?”

You flashed another nervous smile, trying not to show your disdain on your face. “We’ve had our ups and downs, but I’m very grateful to him for coming with me when I received this opportunity. Which is why I also appreciate Ms. Kwon agreeing to look for a position for him here as well.”

“He quit his job?” She surmised.

“Yes, we’re from the next town over. Our workplaces would have been too far apart.”

She waved her hands in front of her. “I apologize, I know you’re more than being soulbound. What do you do in your free time, hm?”

It wasn’t until lunch that you left Ms. Oh’s office. She declared that she had a lunch meeting, and encouraged you to take your break now too. You walked back to your desk feeling a little overwhelmed and dazed already, lots of notes in your notebook that Ms. Kwon had given you. Sungchan was still at the desk next to yours, looking up from his phone with interest as you pulled out your chair and flopped down into it.

“So…? How’s work so far?” He asked.

“Good, good.” You sat up straight. “You uh, doing alright?”

He shrugged. “Checked out the breakroom. Played some solitaire.”

“I’m on lunch. Do you want to go somewhere? Stretch your legs?”

“You really weren’t kidding about taking me on walks, huh?” He snickered, standing up anyway. “Making sure I get fresh air?”

You grabbed your purse and started towards the elevator. Through gritted teeth, you said, “You’re lucky I’m treating you better than a bug in a jar.”

He laughed at that, not seeming to care when a couple of your coworkers looked over. “Going to put a magnifying glass over me and set me on fire next?”

The elevator arrived, and the two of you stepped in. Once the door shut and you were alone, you dug your elbow into his side. “Don’t give me any ideas. God, do you have to be so loud?”

“What are you talking about?” Sungchan easily fended off your limb. “I laughed. It’s a normal thing to do. Heard some other people doing it earlier. You’re not going to be exiled for being seen with a guy who laughed.”

You took a deep breath. “You’re right, sorry. I’m just freaked because it’s my first day.”

“I get it. And I promise I’m not going to do anything to intentionally get you fired. Seriously, I’ve been on my best behavior.”

“That was obvious, huh?”

“We’ve never been able to keep secrets from each other.”

“Yeah, not for very long.”

“Anyway, Ms. Kwon has been busy, I think. I haven’t seen her since this morning, so no updates on a job for me yet.”

The elevator arrived on the ground floor, and he let you step off first. “That’s okay, Sungchan. You just quit your job for me, some grace is definitely owed.”

You two stopped on the sidewalk in front of the building, Sungchan closing his eyes and reveling in the sunlight while you lifted your hand up to shield your eyes against the brightness and look around. Tsking, you said, “I think there’s a kebab place down the street?”

“Sounds good to me.”

As you walked, you looked up at the buildings around your new workplace. Some were other office buildings, while others were apartments.

“That looks like a nice place,” you pointed.

Sungchan made a non-committal sound.

“Or that one? Everything here is definitely close enough in case one of us is at work and the other is home.”

A shrug.

“Okay, I’m going to need a lot more from you,” you snorted. “We have to live somewhere eventually, remember? It’d be a good idea to start thinking about it.”

“Dishwasher.”

“What?”

“It should have a dishwasher. We’ll get tired of hand-washing dishes really fast,” he said. “And in-unit laundry.”

You nodded. “We’ll look at some listings online while we eat.”

When you returned to the office, Ms. Kwon and Ms. Oh found you two at your desks at the same time.

“Mr. Jung,” Ms. Kwon zeroed in on Sungchan. “Time for your interview.”

“Y/N, let’s meet the rest of the team.” Ms. Oh gestured for you to follow her.

Ms. Kwon had already started off towards her office, leaving Sungchan to catch up. “Wish me luck,” He whispered to you under his breath.

“Good luck,” you murmured, watching him take off after her through the maze of desks.

Ms. Oh was still waiting patiently, and you grabbed your notebook off your desk before turning to her, offering a smile.

At the end of the day, you were exhausted. And you still had to commute back home. Grabbing your purse from your desk, Sungchan immediately perked up.

“Done?” He asked hopefully.

“Mm-hm,” you confirmed, heading for the elevator with a few other employees from this floor.

Sungchan was right behind you, squeezing onto the elevator with everyone else. Out on the sidewalks, you two started towards the subway in silence. Other office workers were converging on the street too, the city beginning to change as the sun started setting.

As you sat down on the subway with Sungchan, you got déjà vu to this morning, and suddenly remembered something. “Oh! How’d it go with Ms. Kwon?”

He straightened his shoulders and jokingly puffed out his chest. “You’re looking at Inverness & Wildwood’s newest part-time office supply and personnel logistics assistant.”

You squinted at him.

“I’m a gofer.” He grinned and flopped back against his seat. “I’ll make copies, get coffee, run documents between departments, do inventory, whatever they ask me to. They already have another part-timer so they didn’t need me full-time.”

“Congrats,” you said dryly. “We should find a place close to work, so you don’t have to come in when you’re not scheduled.”

“Downtown will be expensive,” he commented.

“I don’t know what your pay as a gofer is, but I can afford it.”

“Actually, they’re paying me more than the shoe store.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Yeah, thanks for almost killing me to interview for your job,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re such a baby.”

Two more weeks of commuting and looking at apartments on your lunch break, and you’d finally found one that was available now, only a block away from work, and met all of your and Sungchan’s personal qualifications. You didn’t have a lot of things to bring over from your childhood bedroom—mostly clothes, personal belongings, and the odd piece of sentimental décor. Even your bed was staying put, as your parents had never upgraded you from the twin bed that you’d had as a kid, expecting you to go to college and only ever come back for visits, not stick around as long as you had. The first week you had the apartment, you still commuted back home to sleep, until your new bedframe and mattress arrived.

That was when it really hit you. After spending your whole Saturday unpacking and building furniture, you grabbed your bag of toiletries to take with you into your bathroom for a shower later. Your bathroom. You’d really be living here.

You turned back to Sungchan, who you had called in to assist with some of the two-person steps on building your bedframe. “We’re really doing this.”

“Hm?” He looked up from where he had still been fiddling with a couple screws. “No, we’re done with the frame. Mattress should be easy, it’ll unroll and inflate on its own.”

“I meant—We’re really living here. Together. Without our parents.”

“Guess so.” He stood up. “I’ll grab your mattress.”

The mattress had arrived sometime during the week, and you had pulled it in by yourself. Meaning that the heavy box was dragged in and left by the front door.

Finished arranging your shower products, you stepped back out of your bathroom in time to watch Sungchan carry the mattress box into your room by himself and set it down with no further indication of exertion other than a small huff. Which also just could’ve been from annoyance at helping you.

“Glad to see all our time at the gym hasn’t been a waste,” you commented as he started opening the box.

“Only a waste for you,” he teased back.

“That would hurt if I had been going there willingly.”

“This place has got a gym,” he said. “Pretty nice one too.”

“Yeah, so now you can go without me.”

He pumped his fist victoriously, and you rolled your eyes despite this very much being a win-win situation. With the plastic off, he arranged the mattress on your bedframe to inflate the rest of the way on its own.

“There.”

“Thanks, Sungchan.”

He nodded, heading towards your door. “I’m scheduled for the morning tomorrow.”

“Then you can sign for my dresser. Should be coming in the afternoon.”

“Where else would I be?”

Coming home from work the next day, you were not looking forward to building a dresser. You stepped out of your shoes at the door, carrying them in your hands as the apartment was suspiciously void of Sungchan. Sure, he could’ve gone to anywhere else within a few blocks safely, but you two had already agreed to give each other a heads-up when doing that. Figuring he was probably in his room, you let your shoulders relax as you pushed your bedroom door open.

You stopped in the doorway, shoes dangling off your fingertips, to stare blankly at the scene in front of you. Sungchan on the floor of your bedroom with what looked to be your half-built dresser and various pieces sprawled out around him and his head entirely under your bed as he appeared to be searching for something.

“Uh, what are you doing?” You asked plainly.

“Fuck!” He swore as he startled and hit what sounded like both his head and shoulder on the underneath of your bed and bedframe, then swore again at the pain, “Shit! Ow!” Carefully pulling himself out, he said, “I’m building a dresser.”

You tiptoed around him, careful not to knock anything out of place, to access your suitcase for a change of clothes. “How long have you been doing that?”

He sat back on his feet, pointing at the furniture, “Spent fifteen minutes building the dresser,” then gestured around the expanse of your room, “And the past two hours looking for a screw.”

You carefully used a hand on his head to balance as you stepped over him and a bunch of wood panels to get to your adjoined bathroom.

“Let me get out of my work clothes, then I’ll help.”

Emerging from the bathroom in more relaxed loungewear, you eyed him curiously. “Why were you even building my dresser for me? I just asked you to sign for the package.”

“I was bored.”

“So bored that you’d rather get pissed off at this than stop?” You asked humorously.

He threw his hands up in exasperation. “Apparently.”

“So what exactly are we looking for?”

He showed a screw to you, about as long as your thumbnail. You didn’t hide your doubt.

“Hm.”

“Yeah.” He turned his phone flashlight on and stuck his head back under your bed.

Peering back out into the hallway, you saw something glinting from just inside Sungchan's ajar bedroom door, and walked over there. You picked it up, having secured a small screw between two fingers.

“Sungchan,” you said, entering your room again.

“Huh?” He thankfully didn’t hit his head again as he rolled out from under your bed.

You held the screw out to him on your palm. “Is this it?”

His jaw dropped as he took it from you. “Where the fuck was it?”

“Hallway.”

“Ugh, I wasn’t looking out there! How did it get out there?!” He whined, then immediately closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and his features became neutral again. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I wasted two hours of my life, but it’s fine.”

“Well, as long as it’s fine,” you replied skeptically.

Twenty minutes before the end of the workday, one of your team members whose desk was behind yours leaned his chair back to bridge the gap between you two. Mark whispered, “Hey, a few of us are getting drinks after work today. Want to come? We can celebrate your one-ish month. Three weeks?” His face screwed up as he was clearly trying to do the mental math on how long you had been there.

Truthfully, you were already beat from the work week, and still had more boxes waiting for you at the apartment. But you didn’t want to get off on the wrong foot when it came to establishing good relationships with your coworkers. One drink couldn’t hurt. But it wasn’t just your decision, unfortunately.

“I’ll have to ask Sungchan,” you replied, giving him an apologetic smile.

Mark squinted at you with confusion. “The… new stockroom guy?”

You hadn’t announced that you were soulbound to your entire team or anything, nor had it come up naturally yet. And it seems that Ms. Oh hadn’t mentioned it either, which you were both grateful for and also slightly annoyed by. Now you’d have to go through this with all of them until the whole building finally knew. Maybe a mass email would just be easier, actually.

“We’re soulbound. No, we’re not related, and we don’t know how or why it happened,” you rushed through the usual questions. “I don’t have to come, I know you weren’t expecting to have to invite him too—”

“No, of course he can come!” He reassured you easily. “I didn’t know that was possible, that’s all. We’re all meeting in the lobby in ten minutes or so, the bar’s just a couple blocks away.”

“I’ll ask him. Thanks, Mark.”

You had last spotted Sungchan heading for the breakroom, and checked there first. Your guess was right, he was, in fact, restocking the coffee station.

“Sungchan,” you called for his attention.

“Yes! Time to go home!” He cheered, putting the box of K-cups back in the bottom cabinet.

“Not quite,” you informed him, walking over to where he was on the opposite side of the breakroom from you. “Still got fifteen minutes.”

He groaned, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “Then what are you doing here? Other than getting my hopes up just to crush them? Unless that’s the entire point?”

“I’m actually not here to fulfill my dark, evil purpose of killing all joy on Earth this time.”

Sungchan snickered a little. “Don’t tell me you’re getting caffeine now.”

“A few people from my team are going out for drinks. We were invited,” you said. “I let them know I would have to ask you before accepting.”

“We were invited, or you were invited?”

“I was invited, then the invitation was extended to you once I told them about our situation,” you answered truthfully. “I understand if you don’t want to go, they’re not your team, and we’ve still got stuff to unpack at the apartment after.”

“No, we should go,” he said firmly. “You’ve got to network or whatever, right?”

You blinked at him in surprise. “Yeah, exactly.”

“Then we’ll go. Unless you don’t want to, and you were hoping I would say no so you could blame me?” He tilted his head. “Because you totally can, I don’t care what these people think of me. I’ll be the bad guy any day if you want to get out of something.”

You let out a sputtering laugh, caught off-guard by how genuine he seemed. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks. And I am tired, but it’s important to have a good relationship with my team upfront, I think, then I can start skipping out on stuff later on. I was planning on staying for at least one drink if you said yes.”

Sungchan nodded. “Okay, one drink. And if they’re pressuring you to stay, signal me and I’ll start being a dick so we can leave.”

“Signal you how?”

“Kick me under the table or something.”

“You’re giving me permission to kick you?”

“You’re acting like you never have? Or can you only kick me when you don’t have my express permission?”

“Just making sure we’re on the same page.” You held your hands up, heading towards the breakroom exit again. “We’re all meeting in the lobby in a few minutes to head out.”

“I’ll meet you at your desk.”

Mark was standing behind his desk when you returned, his messenger bag strap slung across his front and computer turned off as he looked at you questioningly. You gave him a thumbs-up and a nod, receiving an enthusiastic fist-pump in return.

“You want me to wait up for you?” He offered.

“Nah, Sungchan and I will be right behind you,” you promised, saving your work.

“Cool.”

You had just started shutting your computer off when Sungchan approached your desk, a noticeable skip in his step at the workday being over. Shouldering your purse, you stood up, pushing your chair in. “Ready to go?”

“I can’t believe you’re actually leaving work early.” He shook his head in mock disapproval, following you to the elevator.

You pushed the down button and looked at the time on your phone. “By ten whole minutes. What’s become of me?”

“Slacker,” he said in a sing-song voice, stepping onto the empty elevator with you. He leaned against the back wall of the elevator, hands resting casually to either side of him on the railing that went around the entire room. “If you’re not careful, you’ll become an underachiever like me, you know.”

“I never called you that.” You shot him a frank look over your shoulder as you hit the lobby button, then turned your gaze back to the screen to watch the number go down as the elevator descended.

“I didn’t say you did.”

“Your subtext was pretty clear.”

“My subtext?”

“You’re not stupid Sungchan,” you sighed loudly. “I don’t know why you keep insisting on acting like you are, and in the process, like I’m stupid too, because that’s the only way I’d believe you were.”

“Have you considered that I am stupid, but you keep insisting that I’m smart because we share a soul, and if I’m stupid, then maybe you’re not as smart as you think you are?”

“Nice try, but we share a soul, not a brain.”

“Yeah, pretty sure you got the brain between us.” Sungchan startled you by suddenly pushing off the back wall and walking up behind you. You expected him to muss up your hair or push you around a little or something as the ground floor—and your waiting coworkers—approached. But he just stood next to you politely, also watching the numbers.

“Then you got the brawn.” You used your index finger to jab at where the material of his button-down shirt was straining slightly around the solid muscle of his shoulder.

He suddenly jokingly went to flex, and you immediately recoiled, turning away and covering your mouth as you made retching sounds.

“Ew! We’re at work! Have some self-respect!” You blindly smacked his arm as his laughter bounced around the elevator. “I swear to God, you better not be doing that in front of people or—”

“Or what?” He taunted. “I’m the brawn, remember?”

“I’ll smother you in your sleep, Jung Sungchan!” You finished your threat, meeting his gaze without hesitation. “I know where you sleep, remember?”

He was still grinning breathlessly as he held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, I’ll hold off on embarrassing you at work until I get a deadbolt on the inside of my bedroom door.”

The elevator had made it to the ground floor then, and you composed yourself right before the doors opened with a ding! to announce your arrival. You immediately spotted the cluster of your coworkers by the front doors of the lobby, most of them seeming to be from your team, with a couple that you didn’t recognize.

Mark noticed you first, raising a hand to wave you over. “Yo! Y/N!”

“Hi,” you greeted everyone brightly. Clearing your throat, you decided to just rip the band-aid off. “This is Sungchan, by the way. We’re soulbound. No, we’re no related. And yes, he’s also the new part-time office supply guy.”

“Hey,” Sungchan said casually from behind you.

“Let’s go drink!” Mark interjected into the silence that had befallen the group as everyone seemed to be trying to process the information you’d just dropped on them. They all immediately burst into cheers and started towards the exit.

You ended up staying much later than you anticipated, and for more than one drink, through no sort of peer pressuring. You were actually having fun with your coworkers, and it was Friday night, so what was the problem, really?

The problem, you realized, only when it was too late. You’d lived with your parents during college, and because all of your socialization had depended on Sungchan in the past, you hadn’t really done much of it out as an adult. So your alcohol tolerance was non-existent. As soon as it hit you, you froze, stopping in the middle of your sentence, talking with Huang Renjun and Lee Donghyuck about… something that you’d completely forgotten about. You were now of a one-track mind that you were well on your way to be way too drunk to be around your coworkers, and you did not want to make an absolute fucking fool of yourself in front of them, even if this was technically “outside of work.”

“Y/N? You okay?” Renjun questioned.

Sungchan was also in the booth with you all, zoning in and out of conversation whenever it happened to veer into something he was actually interested in. He didn’t care if people saw him looking disinterested, scrolling on his phone and sometimes even leaning his head back and closing his eyes until he was actively engaged again.

You did the only thing you could think of and kicked Sungchan. Hard. Except he didn’t startle at all, still resting his eyes. Instead, it was Renjun that jumped and swore. “Ow! What the fuck was that for, Lee Donghyuck?! Come here, you little—”

He reached across the table to grab Donghyuck’s collar as the other man sputtered and flailed to push Renjun off him, laughing and whining that he didn’t know what Renjun was talking about. The commotion was enough to disturb Sungchan, who peeked one eye open, then the other as he seemed to appreciate the scene in front of him. He looked between your quarreling coworkers and you, raising one eyebrow in a silent ‘what did I miss?’

You leaned back, trying to very casually peer under the table just enough in order to direct your kick at the correct leg this time. With Renjun and Donghyuck scrambling around, it was pretty easy to tell the difference. You kicked Sungchan probably more times than was necessary, but you were fully panicking now that you had inadvertently started an almost-bar brawl.

Sungchan, to his credit, hardly reacted to your assault. He slowly nodded once and sat up straight before clearing his throat pointedly. “Y/N, let’s go,” he demanded loudly, making a big show of checking his phone. “We did your work thing, now it’s time for my thing.”

“Right, yeah,” you nodded, not trusting yourself to say any sentences longer than two or three words. “Time to-to go.”

Renjun released his hold on Donghyuck, and they each slid out of the ends of the booth seats they were occupying to let you both out. Sungchan smoothly got out first and helped you up with a hand on your arm that you hoped didn’t make it too apparent that you couldn’t stand on your own.

“Sucks you have to go early, Y/N,” Donghyuck lamented with a sigh. “But we do this once a month! You’ll totally have to come next time!”

“Both of you!” Renjun added, looking at Sungchan too. “Hopefully it’ll work better for both of you next time.”

“Oh, yeah, maybe.” You smiled and nodded, and before you could stop yourself, more words were falling out of your mouth, “I’m really sorry to-to leave like, uh, like this, it’s just that—”

“I’m going to be late, Y/N!” Sungchan interrupted you. “We already stayed an extra hour longer than you said. You know I’ve had this planned for months!”

“I’ll let you go,” Renjun whispered, patting your shoulder sympathetically before turning away from you.

You leaned into Sungchan as he guided you towards the exit of the bar. Halfway there, you realized you didn’t have your purse, and turned around to look to see if you left it in the booth. “Wait, my…”

“I’ve got your purse,” he murmured, and the familiar jangle of the zippers was audible from his other side.

“Oh.”

“You guys leaving?” A voice accosted you right before you were free, and you did your best to disguise your look of ‘oh shit!’ as you turned to face Mark.

“Yeah, uhm, well, Sungchan has, uh—Sungchan’s got to—”

“I’ve got a thing,” Sungchan took over explaining, keeping his tone curt. “And I’m not trying to be rude, Mark, but I’m already running late, so if we could get going…?”

“Oh, yeah, of course!” Mark started backing away apologetically. “It was good hanging with you guys! Night!”

And finally, you were outside, which was comparatively much quieter, colder, and fresher than the inside of the bar. You took a deep breath of air, already feeling better.

“Oh my god,” you groaned with relief. “Thank you, Sungchan.”

“Are you alright? Other than being drunk?” He asked, holding a hand out to hail a cab.

“What are you doing? We can walk home.”

“From work, yes. Not from some bar we’ve never been to, at night, when you’re drunk.”

“Don’t you have a maps app on your phone?”

“Don’t you have a self-preservation instinct?”

A cab pulled up then, and he helped you into the backseat before giving your address to the driver. You slumped against his shoulder as you watched the city lights pass by in a blur, letting your eyes unfocus.

“Did it hurt?” You mumbled.

“When I fell from heaven? Meh, a bit,” he replied humorously.

“No, when I kicked you.”

He laughed, and you felt his shoulder shake as he did so. “Yeah, I think I’ll have a bruise tomorrow.” He sounded oddly proud and even reached over to pat your head.

“Thanks for being an asshole tonight, Sungchan,” you said sincerely.

“Anytime. It was kind of fun, actually.”

Today fucking sucked. You pushed the front door open, fully ready to beeline for your bed and bury yourself under your covers and cry for the entire night. You were just hoping Sungchan was in his room and would leave you alone.

But no, he had apparently used his afternoon off to put the couch together, as he was reclined on that, watching something on your TV that was still on the ground (you hadn’t found a TV stand yet).

“Hey, I picked up some pizza from that place on the corner for dinner,” Sungchan said, standing up from the couch and gesturing to said pizza boxes sitting on your kitchen counter. “Get out of your work clothes then we can eat.”

You faltered, slowing to a stop. “You got it… for both of us?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too?”

“There’s nobody else here? Right?”

You couldn’t help it, all of the stress of the day finally snapping inside you and coming out as tears. Your shoulders jumped with each hiccupping sob, and you dropped your face into your hands as tears streamed from your eyes, soaking your cheeks and blazer cuffs.

“Woah, woah, hey.” He was clearly trying to swallow down his panic and keep his tone soft and comforting. “Do you not want pizza? I can go get something else. What do you want?”

“No, no, Sungchan, pizza is fine,” your words were choked and half-sobbed. You pulled your head back up to see him already with his keys in his hand. “It’s just—Ugh, I messed something up at work today. And nobody got mad at me or anything, and we were able to fix it, and I know I’m still new, but it’s still making me think like—What if I don’t actually belong here? What if I never get good at my job? What if I never figure it out? What if I never figure anything out?” You sniffled, your next words coming out as a wail as your eyes strayed over to the pizza boxes and your sobbing intensified again, “And then you got pizza for me and I thought you hated me.”

Sungchan’s keys clinked as he set them back down, soft footsteps of his sock-clad feet getting closer before you felt his hands gingerly land on your upper arms. When you didn’t immediately pull away, his grasp tightened, squeezing your shoulders as his thumbs smoothed over the area soothingly.

“Okay, first, I don’t hate you. It’ll be really hard to live together if we hate each other.”

“True,” you mumbled, gaze on your feet.

“Y/N, you’ve worked there for a month. Nobody expects you to know everything yet. Except you, apparently,” he continued. “Who cares about having things figured out anyway? If you know everything, you never get to learn anything new. Seems pretty boring to me.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agreed reluctantly. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you buried your face in his chest, adding a muffled, “Thanks, Sungchan.”

He hugged you back, holding you to him firmly. Sungchan let you stand there and keep crying for who knows how long, not complaining even as your tears definitely soaked through his shirt, or as the pizza had probably gone cold. He was pleasantly warm and sturdy, letting you lean almost your full weight against him. One of his large hands gently rubbed between your shoulder blades, eventually calming your hiccups down.

Finally, your feet and your legs hurt far too much from standing in one place, and you were really hungry. Letting him go, he took the cue and pulled away as well. You spotted the large wet patch of tears—and embarrassingly, shiny snot as well—on his shirt, and winced. “God, sorry. I’ll do laundry this weekend.”

“It’s fine,” he brushed off your apology, heading towards the hallway. “I’m doing laundry tomorrow anyway.”

You followed, needing to get out of your work clothes too. “What? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m off tomorrow. Put yours in the hall before you go in the morning and I’ll toss it in there too.” He smiled, stepping into his room and shutting the door.

It was still slightly ajar, though, you realized as you went to close your door. You paused as your eyes caught a flash of movement, realizing too late that it was Sungchan tugging his ruined shirt over his head by the collar. You slammed your door shut all the way, locking it behind you.

Reemerging in your pajamas, you found Sungchan in the kitchen, two paper plates out by the pizza boxes. You also hadn’t gotten dishes or silverware yet. After helping yourself to several slices of room temperature pizza, you sat cross-legged on your newly built couch, squinting at the TV screen.

“What are you watching?” You questioned.

“Video essay about some movie I’ve never seen,” he admitted. “I tried logging into my parents’ Netflix but it kicked me out.”

You laughed. “I guess we need to get our own account, huh?”

The next day, you had a marginally better time at work. Oddly enough, you found yourself wondering what Sungchan was doing at random times, but restrained your urge to text him. He’d let you know if he was going somewhere.

“Hey, Y/N,” Mark caught your attention.

You spun your chair around to face him. “Yeah?”

“Sungchan coming in today?”

“No, he’s off all day. I guess it’s Yushi’s day,” you referred to the other part-timer who fulfilled the same duties as Sungchan. Yushi was an undergraduate student at the nearby university who worked at the firm when he wasn’t in class, and you’d already spotted him scurrying around a couple times today.

“Where’d you guys end up moving in anyway?”

“Terrace 403.”

Mark whistled. “Nice. Close, too.”

“Yeah, we like it so far.” You shrugged. “What about you?”

“The Lofts at Park Place.”

“Oh, that has the indoor basketball court, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Sungchan liked the pictures on the website, but it was too far for us so we didn’t tour.”

He turned back to his computer. “Lunch?”

You checked the time too. “Sure. Cafeteria?”

“Might as well use the company meal credits.”

In the cafeteria, you and Mark spotted a couple of your other coworkers already eating, and joined them at a table by the windows.

“Just you today, Y/N?” Renjun inquired.

“Mark’s right there,” you quipped, pointing to the seat beside you.

“He meant your worse half,” Donghyuck informed you dryly.

“Uhm, Sungchan and Yushi alternate around Yushi’s class schedule,” you explained. “Sungchan’s off today.”

“Good for you.”

“What?” You tilted your head, a bit caught off-guard.

“He dragged you away when we went out for drinks! Did he even have something to do or did he just want to ruin your fun?”

“It was a bit…” Renjun seemed to be carefully choosing his words as he tepidly agreed with Donghyuck. “I didn’t like how he treated you. At least what I saw.”

“Being soulbound to someone you’re not related to—ugh, I can’t imagine. At least twins, it’s your brother or sister or whoever but this is just some random guy,” Donghyuck continued ranting on your behalf. “I feel so bad for you, seriously.”

Despite Sungchan already saying he didn’t care what your coworkers thought of him, you felt the need to stand up for him. After all, you wanted to leave the bar early, not him. And only you got to complain about Sungchan like that.

“Really, it was my fault. He was trying to get us to leave without everyone realizing that I had drank too much,” you insisted, having no problem coming clean now. “And Sungchan’s not some random guy—I mean, I’ve known him my whole life. He might as well be—He’s…”

You trailed off with a thoughtful frown, unable to even finish that sentence as you had no clue what to say next, how to articulate what Sungchan was to you. The bane of your existence, yes, but it was infinitely more complicated than that. More complicated than you’d ever told anybody, than you think anybody could comprehend, other than Sungchan.

“Of course, you guys have something we’re not going to be able to understand,” Mark said after your silence had gone on for too long. “Since we’re not soulbound.”

“Sorry,” Donghyuck mumbled.

When you got home, you did in fact hear the laundry machines going, so you announced your arrival in case Sungchan couldn’t hear the front door.

“I’m home!” You yelled out, stepping out of your shoes by the door and carrying them with you.

Sungchan walked out of his room. “Hey. How was work?”

“Fine. Better than yesterday, I guess.” You shrugged, opening your own bedroom door. “I’m going to shower.”

“Leftover pizza for dinner?”

“Sounds good to me.”

You took your time showering, still thinking about lunch. It shouldn’t bother you so much, what your coworkers said about Sungchan. But they were wrong. Yeah, he was an asshole sometimes, but he hadn’t actually been one that night, or really at all since you started this job. The water turning cold pushed you out of the shower, and you hadn’t even realized you’d been in there for so long. You went to grab fresh pajamas from your dresser that Sungchan had so kindly built for you.

Empty drawer. With a sigh, you wrapped your towel around yourself tighter and poked your head out of your room. “Sungchan?” You called out. “Is the dryer done?”

“Uhm, it’s got like ten minutes left,” he replied from the direction of the kitchen. “Why?”

“I don’t have a shirt to wear…” You admitted dejectedly.

“Oh, shit. I did your work clothes first…”

“Fuck.”

“No, it’s okay. You can wear one of mine,” he said, voice getting nearer until he had entered the hall as well. He went into his room, asking over his shoulder, “T-shirt or hoodie?”

“T-shirt’s fine.”

He came back out, holding a folded shirt out to you. “Here. Sorry about that.”

“S’okay.” You accepted the garment, keeping your towel up with one hand. “Thanks.”

Sungchan’s shirt smelled like the detergent that you both used, so it kind of smelled like your clothes, but as the collar passed by your nose, you inhaled a more distinct scent too. It just… smelled like Sungchan. Like when he’d let you cry into his chest just last night, or the countless hours you’d spent in his car over the years, or the times on co-family vacations as kids when you’d call a momentary truce at night to stay up late giggling and whispering ghost stories to each other under the covers, or when a huge storm would come through and both of you were too old to tell your parents you were scared, but not too old to squeeze onto Sungchan’s top bunk together for safety.

Walking back out, you saw Sungchan already in the kitchen.

“So what else did you do today?” You asked, leaning against one of the kitchen counters. “Other than laundry. I assume the gym?”

“Yeah, worked out, laundry, cleaned a bit, found some places I wanted to check out this weekend,” he talked as he opened the fridge and grabbed the pizza boxes.

“Too far away?” You surmised, taking the boxes from his hand to set them on the counter.

“Thanks. A couple of them, but—” He had shut the fridge and finally looked at you, pausing when he did.

“Hello? Sungchan?” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Are you doing a system reboot or something?”

He suddenly whirred back to life, rushing to grab two paper plates from the cabinet (you still didn’t have dishes yet). “Nope, nope, I’m fine. What was I saying?”

You eyed him skeptically, but moved on anyway, “You found some places you wanted to check out this weekend, some of them were too far but…?”

“Right, some were too far, but some I figured you’d want to go too, so it can wait until the weekend.”

“Oh.” How… considerate. “Sure, yeah, sounds fun.”

The next day at work, you were looking around the building cafeteria for somewhere to sit for lunch. Your other work buddies had a prior lunch reservation but Sungchan was running a last-minute errand in the area for one of the executives, meaning that you two couldn’t join them. You told them to keep the reservation without you two—you’d manage. A woman at a nearby table caught your eye and waved, and you turned around to see if she could’ve been waving at anybody else. You were pretty sure you’d seen brief glimpses of her in the elevator or passing by in halls before, but you definitely didn’t know her. There was nobody else in your vicinity, and she waved you over more insistently.

You hesitantly walked towards her, looking down at her questioningly as you approached her table, still unsure of if she meant you. “Sorry, were you—?”

“Y/N, right?” She asked expectantly.

“Oh, uh, yes. I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“Please, sit!” She gestured to the empty seat across from her.

Having nothing else to do, you obliged, setting your tray down in front of you. “Thank you.”

“Sorry, I’m Han Sooyoung,” she introduced herself. “We haven’t met, but I’ve heard about you. I’m soulbound too.”

“Oh, oh.” Your eyes widened as it hit you. “Really?”

“Yes.” Sooyoung quickly unlocked her phone to show you a photo of herself and another woman who was clearly her identical twin. “My sister, Soojin.”

“Does she work here too?”

“No, it’s not really her thing.” She laughed and shook her head. “She’s a freelance digital artist, so she works from home while I’m here.”

“I’m guessing you live close by then?”

“Villas on 5th.”

You were still staring at her in awe. “Sorry, this is my first time meeting someone else whose soulbound that’s not Sungchan.”

Sooyoung laughed again, “That’s okay, we didn’t meet another soulbound pair until Soojin and I went to college.”

“Have you—Have you met another pair like us? That’s not related? Uhm, Type 2?”

There were two types of soulbound connections, with three subtypes total. Type 1 was related multiple births—1A was identical twins/triplets/etc., 1B was fraternal. Type 2 was unrelated, like you and Sungchan. 1A was the most common, then 1B, with 2 in a distant, distant third.

“Once, yeah. But I’m sure you already know how rare that is.”

“Of course.”

You spent the rest of your lunch break with Sooyoung, eating and chatting. It was refreshing to be able to talk about things with someone who just… got it. Even when the conversation would veer into work, or the city, you found it easier to tell her the full story than your other non-soulbound coworkers. She just immediately understood everything.

Sooyoung had just finished telling you a story from when she and Soojin were in primary school, and stopped to take a sip of her water.

“I’m so glad we outgrew the emotional phase,” you said offhandedly with a chuckle, bringing another bite of food to your mouth. You were now reminiscing in your own childhood with Sungchan, a large portion of which was spent with you trying to push each other’s faces in the dirt, admittedly.

She set her glass down with a strange look on her face, head tilted. “What?”

You sat up a little straighter in your seat. You hadn’t told anybody else about this, but you figured that Sooyoung would get it—she understood everything else about your experience of being soulbound perfectly so far: poppys, scheduling conflicts, soulsickness. Surely she and Soojin went through the same thing. “When we were kids, there was like a weird year where we always knew when the other was upset. Like, if Sungchan skinned his knee, I’d start crying even though I was perfectly fine inside my house. Same thing vice versa. If I had a scary dream and woke up crying, my mom would get a call from Sungchan’s mom saying he was crying too but couldn’t tell her why. It stopped when we were six, I think? Our pediatrician said we probably just outgrew it.”

But she still had that same perturbed, concerned look on her face. She leaned forward, brows furrowed as she questioned you further, “You’ve never felt anything from Sungchan since then?”

“No…?” There was now a clammy, cold dread starting in your palms and quickly spreading past the backs of your arms and elbows throughout the rest of your body. Your heartbeat in your ears sounded like heavy footsteps coming down a hallway, like you were about to get in trouble for something, but you didn’t even know what you had done wrong.

“I’ve had that connection with my sister our whole lives,” Sooyoung said. “We feel almost all of the other’s emotions.”

“Seriously? Isn’t that… a bit much?” You blinked at her in surprise. “Like, invasive?”

“I suppose I’m used to it. I find it comforting, actually.” She placed a hand to the hollow of her throat, palm resting flat on her chest. “When I’m sitting at my desk bored, she could be watching her favorite show and I can feel how happy she is, which makes me happy knowing that she’s enjoying herself and makes it easier to do whatever task I’m doing.” The corner of her lips twitched. “And I see no point in keeping secrets from somebody that I share a soul with.”

“Maybe it’s because we’re Type 2?” You supplied a possible explanation for the difference.

Sooyoung still seemed troubled, shaking her head. “I mean, I have only met one other Type 2 pair, but they described very similar experiences to mine and my sister’s. I’ve never heard of a pair ‘outgrowing’ their connection like this.”

You pushed a piece of food around on your plate, unsure of what to say. You felt like you had completely ruined the mood, singled yourself out as a weirdo, exposed some secret you didn’t even know you had, and found out something was apparently very wrong with you and Sungchan that you thought had been typical your whole life. But if the connection that Sooyoung described having with Soojin was supposed to be normal, you weren’t sure if you even wanted to fix it—if that was possible. It sounded… uncomfortable.

“If your doctor wasn’t concerned, I shouldn’t be worrying you.” Sooyoung waved off the topic with a smile. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” you reassured her. Scrambling for something else to talk about, you asked, “So, how did you and Soojin manage college? Since I’m assuming you were different majors?”

As Sooyoung started telling you another story, you chewed on the bottom of your lip, no longer hungry for the rest of your food.

That weekend, you were so eager to finally get out of your apartment, you would’ve gone anywhere with Sungchan—the gym, a fish market, a dentist appointment, anything. This was your first proper time exploring the city now that you lived here. The initial few weekends you spent moving in, unpacking, and building furniture, only ever venturing out to get food or the bare necessities.

You could tell Sungchan was excited to be out too, as the list of locations he had in the notes app on his phone was so long, he had to scroll. You doubted you could go to all these places in one month, much less a day. But you figured you would be here for the foreseeable future, so you had the time.

“Okay, uhm, let’s see—” Sungchan suddenly stopped in the middle of the sidewalk in front of your building, shielding his eyes from the sun as he looked around, squinting down at his phone screen, then up and down the street. Other pedestrians pushed by you two, and you grabbed his arm to try to pull him to one side so you weren’t blocking the entire pathway.

“What?” You asked, peeking at his phone. He had his maps up.

“Which way’s east?”

You glanced around blankly. “I have no fucking clue.”

“Well…” He looked left, then right, before grabbing your wrist and taking off towards the left with you in tow. After several hurried strides, he clicked his tongue and turned around in place. “Nope. Other way.”

You chuckled, following his lead and spinning around to attach yourself to his other arm and keep pace in the rushed crowd. “We had a 50/50 chance.”

Apparently, Sungchan’s first location was the local library. You eyed him and the sign with mock surprise on your face. “Wait, you know how to read?”

“So I’m not allowed to call myself stupid, but you are?” He scoffed.

“Somebody’s got to keep your ego in check.”

“Oh you—” He caught you with an arm loosely around your neck to hold you in place while he went to grab your hat, presumably to take it off and then mess up your hair. “And who assigned you that job?”

“It’s a holy vow that I’ve taken on. Sort of like a nun, you kno—Ack!” Your banter got cut off by him applying just the slightest pressure to your throat, and you in turn made exaggerated choking sounds, smacking his arm zealously.

“For someone who’s supposedly the brains between us, you really have no survival instinct, huh?”

“See, I’m the brains because I know that you won’t actually kill me.”

“Then I simply have to assume that you keep doing this because you like when I rough you up a little.”

“Do you?” You taunted back, well aware that you were teetering right on the precipice of joking and something else. All the hours Sungchan had poured into the gym were now very apparent, your fingers clutching the well-defined muscles encircling your neck and your body pressed up against his. You gulped, feeling the bob of your throat push on his arm, then added, “Like it when I give you the chance to rough me up a bit?”

“There are families coming down the street,” he half-whispered, half-snickered, letting you go with a pat on the cheek. At his normal volume, he said, “Come on, I picked this one for you, not me. Since I can’t read.”

You clicked your tongue, taking off at a half-jog to keep up with his long legs and fast pace. “You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, Channie. I’m sure we can find a really good picture book for you in here.”

“That’s it—”

You swerved out of his reach just in time as he had lunged for you again, cackling and laughing as you ran around the fountain in the middle of the courtyard and darted for the stairs, Sungchan chasing you the whole way towards the entrance of the library.

You and Sungchan had just stepped off the elevator one morning when you were immediately flagged down by Mark at your desk. Heading over, you set your own bag down on your chair with Sungchan in tow.

“Yo! Y/N! Sungchan!” He greeted you brightly as always. “Drinks tonight?”

“Has it been a month already?” You looked at the date on your computer lockscreen.

Sungchan hadn’t answered, looking down at you in a silent question. Neither of you had plans for tonight, so it was just up to you if you wanted to go or not.

“We’ll come out for a bit, yeah,” you half-committed.

“Yes!”

“Oh, hey, can I invite my friend Sooyoung?” You asked hopefully. “From Finance?”

Mark’s face screwed up in thought, and Sungchan also looked confused, before it seemed to dawn on your coworker. He replied hesitantly, “Ms. Han Sooyoung? The Director of Finance? You’re… friends?”

Your eyes widened, and Sungchan crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head at you, but thankfully stayed silent at this revelation.

“I-I think so? I didn’t know! We get lunch sometimes, she said she works in Finance, she never said… her position…”

You felt a bit queasy now at the idea that you were so new and had been calling somebody so senior in the company so casually. You’d barely started calling your own team lead Jieun last week at the behest of the rest of your team. A Director was probably three or four levels above her in the office hierarchy.

“There isn’t another Han Sooyoung in the office that I know. Definitely not another in Finance,” Mark explained to you gently.

“So… definitely not inviting her for drinks…” You surmised sheepishly.

“No.”

“I’m going to get my coffee…” You walked off in a bit of a daze, vaguely aware of Sungchan following you.

In the breakroom, you started preparing your coffee, and Sungchan finally spoke.

“Your new friend is the Director of Finance?” He asked through a sputtering laugh, also beginning his morning restock of the coffee station.

“I didn’t know!” You insisted, well aware of whiny you sounded.

“How did you meet her again?”

“In the cafeteria! We ate lunch together one day, and just kept getting lunch sometimes. She calls me when she wants to get lunch, the phone just shows her name.”

“Her email would’ve shown her title.”

“I mean, I could tell she was a little older than us, but I didn’t think she was a Director! Seriously!”

He was clearly still relishing in the humor of the situation, putting sugar packets in the caddy as you plucked a couple out. “You totally would’ve killed the vibe inviting essentially everybody’s boss to drinks.”

“Good thing I didn’t, then,” you pointed out with an eyeroll, going to the fridge for the creamer.

“What do you even have in common with the Director of Finance?” He wondered aloud, grabbing the fridge door as you went to slam it shut, lifting each of the bottles of flavored creamers to feel how full they were.

“Obviously, that’s not really what we talk about! We talk about other stuff!” You huffed. “She’s soulbound too.”

“I’m assuming she’s soulbound to the head of Legal or something then, right?”

“Her sister works from home as a digital artist.”

“You know, you’ve never mentioned you met someone that’s soulbound.”

“I haven’t?” You echoed noncommittally, stirring everything into your coffee cup.

“First person we’ve ever met that’s soulbound and you forgot to tell me?” He said doubtfully. “I know you’re not stupid, Y/N.”

“Aw, thanks, Channie,” you snipped back sarcastically, putting the creamer away as he still had the fridge open, checking the sodas that were kept in there now.

“What’d she say?” Sungchan asked in the same casual tone of voice that he had been conducting the conversation the whole time. “That freaked you out so bad you didn’t want to tell me?”

You swallowed, then sighed. “Not now. Later, at home. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed easily. “After drinks tonight. If you’re not drunk again.”

“We need someone else to make it even,” Donghyuck declared, looking around the bar. He had been playing pool with Lee Jeno from the fifth floor and waved you over when he saw you awkwardly standing alone after Mark had left you to get another drink. You were still slowly, very slowly, working on your first one, which was honestly mostly melted ice at this point.

You also looked around, making eye contact with Sungchan sitting by himself at the end of the bar. He had excused himself to the restroom last you saw him, and was now freshly topped up with something.

“Sungchan’s back,” you suggested brightly, already starting to raise your hand to get his attention.

Donghyuck pivoted in front of you, blocking Sungchan from your view. “I was thinking somebody generally pleasant to be around. Like… literally any of our other coworkers.”

Jeno was across the pool table from you two, and having missed last month’s outing entirely, was not privy to the scene that Sungchan intentionally caused. He now tilted his head in confusion at the conversation unfolding before him. “What’s wrong with the new copy guy? He seems fine to me.”

“It was a misunderstanding, Donghyuck! I already told you!” You insisted. “He only did all that because I wanted to go home! He’ll be perfectly cool this time, I swear!”

“Ignore him. Go get your boyfriend, Y/N,” Jeno directed you in a reassuring tone.

“He’s not my—What?! Sungchan’s not my boyfriend. We’re soulbound.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” He held his hands up. “I just—”

“It’s fine, Jeno, you didn’t know,” you brushed off his apology, veering around Donghyuck and beelining for the bar.

Sungchan was still in the same seat, sipping on his drink as he was preoccupied on his phone. He looked up as you stopped to lean next to him. “Oh, hey. What was that?”

“Two things—No, three things, actually,” you said, holding up three fingers. “One, we’ve got to start telling everybody we ever talk to at work that we’re soulbound. Lee Jeno just called you my boyfriend because he didn’t know.”

“You want to date Lee Jeno?”

You blinked at him. “When did I say that?”

“You’re upset that he thought we were dating.”

“No, the problem isn’t that he thought that, it’s that anybody thought that. Because it’s not true and—!”

“So the problem is that it’s not true?”

“Are you drunk? Do we need to go home?” You grabbed his glass and sniffed it. It didn’t even have the faintest smell of alcohol, just the sugary sweet fizzle of soda.

“It’s soda,” he drawled, watching you taste test from the rim just in case. “You’re just being paranoid about your coworkers’ perception of you again.”

Definitely soda. You put his glass down, and he pulled it back over to himself to take a long swig from the straw. Opting to just move on, you said, “Whatever. Two, we need a fourth person to play pool. Do you want to?”

“Sure.” He nodded, then added knowingly, “I have a feeling I’m not on Donghyuck’s team.”

“That’s what three is about—I know you don’t care what any of these people think about you, and I really wish I could be like you in that way, but unfortunately, I’m not. And not only do I care what they think of me, but I care what they think of you. And because of the nice thing that you did for me last time, now they all think you’re a huge asshole,” you rambled in a hurry, feeling the impending clock ticking of Donghyuck and Jeno waiting for you. Squeezing Sungchan’s forearm, you pleaded, “So can you please be like, the coolest and chillest that you’ve ever been in your whole life during this pool game?”

Sungchan immediately burst into chuckles, an amused but oddly soft smile on his features as he keeled forward a little and patted your hand that was on his arm. “Alright, alright. You make it sound so life-or-death, you know? Fine, I’ll make them like me since it’s apparently causing you so much agony.”

He stood up, grabbing his soda and nudging you back in the direction of the pool tables. You whispered a ‘thank you!’ under your breath before taking off, knowing that he’d be right behind you.

“Got him!” You announced brightly as you returned to the pool table, stopping by where you had left your drink on a coaster on the edge. “Donghyuck, you remember Sungchan. Sungchan, this is Lee Jeno, from the fifth floor.”

“Hey, man, nice to meet you,” Sungchan offered his hand to Jeno with a wide, charismatic smile. “Y/N and I are soulbound, by the way. Always like to uh, get that out of the way. Since we’re still new, we never know who at the company knows and who doesn’t.”

Jeno nodded slowly as he shook Sungchan’s hand. “I heard, yeah. Crazy stuff. It’s nice to meet you too, Sungchan. I’ve seen you around, running errands, but I don’t think we’ve ever talked.”

“No, I don’t think so.” He turned to Donghyuck next, also offering a hand out for a handshake. “Good to see you again, Donghyuck.”

“Yeah, you too,” Donghyuck accepted it with a poorly disguised air of suspicion.

Sungchan clapped him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture, and you quickly bit your small plastic stirring straws in your drink to avoid laughing at Donghyuck’s alarmed look. He clearly thought he was getting pranked, or the world was ending, or Sungchan was on something.

“So, how do we want to do teams?” Jeno asked, passing out pool cues. “Has anybody not played before?”

“I haven’t played since I was… What, ten?” You scrunched your nose thoughtfully, turning to Sungchan with your question. “Was that when your family got rid of the pool table?”

“I banned you from using it when we were ten,” Sungchan reminded you. “We didn’t actually get rid of it until we were twelve.”

“Oh yeah, because I accidentally shot a pool ball into your eye and gave you a black eye.”

“You’re still claiming it was an accident?”

“It was! How could I have purposefully angled a pool cue to hit it in such a way that it would have flown up off the table directly into your eye? You think I was that good at physics at ten?”

“Fair point, you’ve never been that good at physics or pool.”

“That would hurt if I prided myself on either of those things, which I don’t,” you said smugly, pointing your pool cue at him.

He covered the end of your pool cue with his hand, pushing it away from his face as the corner of his lips curled with amusement. “Careful with that thing. I don’t want to lose my eye for real this time.”

Someone cleared their throat, and you suddenly remembered that two of your coworkers were there too. Jeno said, “Hyuck’s about as good as a ten-year-old too. So if you’re not bad, Sungchan, we can split them between us.”

“Yeah, I’ll take Y/N,” Sungchan agreed.

Sungchan, it turned out, wasn’t much better at pool than you. It seemed as though he hadn’t played since his family got rid of their pool table in the basement when you all were twelve. But you were having fun, and thankfully, were doing better to keep the pool balls on the table as opposed to accidentally launching them up at people’s faces.

Jeno and Donghyuck won, on no part of Donghyuck’s, but he was still celebrating heartily, high-fiving both of Jeno’s hands in rapid succession. “I’ll get us all the next round!” He announced, already walking backwards towards the bar.

You went to open your mouth to let him know that you didn’t want another drink, but Sungchan spoke up first.

“I’ll come with,” he offered, giving your shoulder a light squeeze as he went to follow your coworker.

Donghyuck didn’t protest, and the two of them sauntered up to the bar together. Jeno started taking the pool balls back out of the pockets, and you went to help him, digging into the one closest to you first.

“Switch teams this time?” Jeno suggested, rolling a yellow out into the center.

“I think you could beat the three of us with your eyes closed,” you snorted. “Do you hustle people in your off time?”

“You can be on my team.”

“I’m listening.”

Hyuck and Sungchan returned then, each with two drinks in hand. Sungchan gave you yours before reaching around you to set his down on his coaster. As he leaned in near you, he murmured, “It’s just soda water and cranberry juice.”

“Thanks, Sungchan,” you smiled up at him genuinely, lifting the glass to your mouth to take a sip.

Donghyuck rubbed his hands together excitedly. “So, rematch? Or—”

“I’m on Jeno’s team!” You declared loudly, sauntering over to the other side of the pool table with your drink and cue.

“Wait, hold on—”

“Y/N’s on my team this round,” Jeno confirmed, pushing Donghyuck out of the way to rack up. “We’re solids.”

Giving your coworkers all one final wave by the front door, you and Sungchan ducked out into the night. You didn’t argue when he went to hail a taxi for you two, happily humming the song that had been playing over the speakers when you left the bar to yourself as you waited. One finally pulled over, and you climbed into the backseat together.

“I think that was a success,” Sungchan said after giving the driver your address. “What do you think? Do they like me?”

“Donghyuck didn’t want you to go after pool,” you giggled as you remembered the way that the slightly tipsy man had clung onto Sungchan’s arm when you all started your goodbyes. “And Mark’s always liked you.”

“Mark’s always been nice to me, because he’s just like that,” Sungchan corrected you.

“Okay, fair. But I think he likes you now,” you reassured him. “Jeno too. And Renjun.”

“Are you happy now that my reputation has been restored? You’re no longer soulbound to the biggest asshole in the office.”

You frowned. “That’s not what bothered me. Everyone thought you were an asshole, but you’re not. You only acted like that in the first place to help me. It wasn’t true.”

“Whatever weird reason you had for it, I had fun tonight.”

“Me too,” you agreed. “Even though we made an awful pool team.”

“Yeah, we were terrible,” he snickered.

At your apartment, you stopped in the entryway past the door, preparing to take your shoes off as you always did. Sungchan stopping next to you gave you pause, however.

“You can go on without me,” you waved him off. “I know how to get to my room; I only had one drink.”

He stuck his arm out wordlessly, looking between you and your shoes. Usually, you just leaned against the wall to not topple over when doing this coming home alone after work.

“Oh, thanks.” You grabbed his arm for stability, easily pulling off your first shoe, then the other.

“Don’t forget,” he said from behind you as the two of you headed for your rooms. “You’re supposed to tell me about whatever Han Sooyoung said to you.”

“I know, I know.” You leaned back against your closed door, letting your head loll to one side lazily. “Can I at least get out of my work clothes that smell like the bar first? And maybe shower or something?”

Sungchan sighed, “If you’re tired—”

“I didn’t say that. I asked if I could get out of my yucky bar clothes and shower. Don’t you want to de-yuckify too? Or did you plan on sleeping like that?”

“Actually, you’re right, you should go shower.” He wrinkled his nose before pretending to plug it. “I can smell you from here.”

“Dick,” you hissed, smacking his arm. “Remember that summer you refused to pay to get the A/C in your car fixed and I still had to go to the gym with you six days a week? I deserve financial compensation for that, honestly.”

“We could’ve taken your car.”

“I had fabric seats! Your gym sweat would have permanently seeped into my car!”

Sungchan dropped his hand from his nose and pushed his hair out of his face as he started laughing. “We got into the stupidest fucking fights.”

“Yeah, we did,” you agreed quietly.

“Go shower.” He shooed you with one hand as the other reached for his doorhandle. “We both should. We stink.”

“I know you do,” you teased, slipping into your room.

Freshened up, you found Sungchan already in the living room, reclined in the middle of the couch with his head tipped back against the cushions, eyes shut and arms stretched out along the back of the furniture.

“Alright, make some room,” you announced your arrival, lightly swatting at one of his spread-out thighs. The two of you didn’t have an armchair or another piece of furniture to sit on yet, not even a coffee table.

Sungchan grumbled, but nevertheless scooted further towards one corner to open up the other half for you to sit down on as well. He opened his eyes to settle his gaze on you, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “Well?”

“I wasn’t hiding Sooyoung from you on purpose—I think—I don’t know, maybe I was.” Your preface quickly fell apart. You folded your arms across your chest, pressing yourself as far back into the arm of the couch as you could, propping your legs up in between you as well. You needed space as you sorted through your muddied thoughts on the subject. “She and Soojin are Type 1A.”

“Makes sense.” He turned his body around towards you, mirroring your position but a lot more open, elbows resting on his knees and fingers laced loosely between his legs.

“She approached me in the cafeteria because she heard that we were soulbound.” You took a deep breath. “Anyway, we were talking about soulbound stuff and I mentioned when we used to be able to feel the same stuff. Remember that? You would scrape your knee or something and I’d start crying too.”

He nodded. “Dr. Park said it was a phase.”

“I know. But Sooyoung said…” You chewed on the inside of your cheek as you tried to gauge his reaction so far. His expression hadn’t changed at all, calmly listening to everything. “She and Soojin have apparently always felt each other’s emotions like that. They never outgrew it.”

“Yeah, but we’re not—”

“That’s what I said—We’re Type 2. But Sooyoung’s met another Type 2 pair and they were still like her and Soojin. She said she’s never heard of a pair of any type ‘outgrowing’ it.”

Sungchan’s eyes closed again as he slowly nodded, taking his time to absorb what you said. He squinted his eyes back open one at a time before asking, “Remember when we were convinced we had superpowers as kids because we were Type 2?”

“Ha, yeah,” you chuckled lightly, rubbing your upper arms.

“We were just guessing, right?” He pointed out. “Dr. Park was just guessing when she said it was a phase, and Sooyoung’s just guessing that it’s not supposed to be a phase. Soulbound people are barely studied as-is, and all of it’s been done on Type 1s, there’s no way to know what we’re supposed to be like. We’re lucky souLOXin even works for us.”

“Good point,” you mumbled, scratching the back of your neck.

“If not being able to feel each other’s emotions was going to kill us, I think it would’ve happened when we were six.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sighed. “I just… The look on Sooyoung’s face when I said it freaked me out. Like, we’re already weird for being soulbound, then even more weird because we’re Type 2, then it turns out there’s something even weirder about us?”

“I keep telling you—” He poked your shin with his foot, and you wrinkled your nose at him. “You worry about what other people think of you way too much.”

“But if I listened to you, wouldn’t I still be worrying about what other people think of me? Since I’d be worrying about what you think of me?”

Sungchan clicked his tongue. “I’m the one person you should worry about. Forget everyone else.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life. Guaranteed.”

You laughed. “That’s true. One problem with that, Sungchan.”

“Hm?”

“You’re the one person whose opinion I’ve never cared about,” you grinned, poking him back with your foot.

“Yeah, I know,” he scoffed, catching your ankle and yanking you towards him.

You yelped as you were suddenly flat on your back on the couch. Pushing your other foot flat against Sungchan’s chest to keep him away was futile as he just grabbed that ankle too and knocked it out of his way. He had a smirk on his face as he got up on his knees on the couch cushions. You were giggling as you tried to fight back with your hands instead, only succeeding in getting both of them trapped in the grasp of one of his. He let out a sharp laugh as he swung a knee over to straddle your thighs and keep you from trying to kick him again. You were still squirming a little, though your squeals were quickly fading as you looked up at him looming over you.

He had a breathless, cocky smile on his face as he shamelessly appraised the visage of you beneath him, another airy chuckle escaping his lips. “You totally like this.”

“So do you,” you breathed out.

“You should see the dopey grin on your face right now.”

“I must be looking in a mirror then.”

Sungchan cocked his head. “Why did it bother you so much that Jeno thought we were dating?”

“You’re asking that now?” You indicated to your current positions, a bit flabbergasted. You reminded him with a huff, “Also, I already told you.”

“Yeah, because it’s not true.” He frowned down at you, all playfulness gone from his features now. “Do you still hate me?”

“What?” You tried to sit up, but Sungchan didn’t budge, so you just flopped right back down. “I must hate you because I don’t want our coworkers to think we’re dating? Which we aren’t?”

“It was just a misunderstanding, but you were acting like the sky was falling.”

“Like you are now?”

“I don’t get it.”

“And I don’t get you,” you retorted. “Why do you even care? You never care about what people think of you.”

“I care about what you think,” he said, not a hint of sarcasm, teasing, or malice in his voice.

“Wh…” You trailed off, staring up at Sungchan, at an utter loss for words. “Since when?”

He shrugged. “Don’t know. College maybe, or after, maybe when you almost killed me to get a job.”

“Channie—”

Then, all at once, Sungchan climbed off of you, standing up from the couch and stretching. “It’s late and we both drank tonight. I don’t know about you, but I’m tired.”

You rubbed your wrists that he had just let go of, pushing yourself up on your elbow as you stared at him incredulously. “Okay…”

“Night, Y/N.” He ruffled your hair, though the gesture felt oddly hollow because his touch was fleeting, not trying to muss it up as much as he usually would have. He let out a very loud yawn as he headed for the hallway. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“Night, Sungchan…” You muttered back, watching him disappear into his room, still trying to process all the sharp turns tonight had taken.

Monday morning you were sifting through your email when your desk phone rang. Han Sooyoung.

“This is Y/N,” you answered, tapping an anxious rhythm on your mouse.

“Morning!” Sooyoung chirped on the other end of the line. “Lunch today?”

“Oh, uhm…” You looked around, unsure of what to say. It felt hard to outright decline a director now, but also extremely inappropriate to continue such a casual relationship with one.

“Is everything okay?” She asked. “If you’re too busy, that’s totally fine, we can do a raincheck.”

The words came out before you could stop them. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’re the Director of Finance?”

“Oh.” She paused. “I guess… it didn’t seem important. That wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”

You let out a half-sigh, half-groan, rubbing your forehead.

“Are you mad at me?”

You laughed cynically. “No. It’s really the least of my problems right now.”

“Well… do you want to talk about all those other problems over lunch?” She proposed. “My treat?”

“I’m going out to lunch,” you said in lieu of greeting when you encountered Sungchan in the copy room later that morning. “It’s just around the corner, so you should be fine here.”

“Oh, okay,” he said, shutting the first paper drawer of the copier he had been refilling. “Have fun, then.”

“I would’ve invited you, but Sooyoung’s paying and that would be bad form, right?”

Sungchan shook his head, but there was an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Have you told her you know her real identity?”

“Yeah. I’m over it, for the most part.”

“Speaking of plans—” He paused to rip open another pack of paper. “Mark invited us to play basketball at his place after work Wednesday.”

“Us?”

“Mm-hm. That’s what I said, right?”

You arched an eyebrow as you continued watching him fill the copy machine. “I’m just trying to remember when I’ve talked to Mark about my undying love for basketball.”

“Okay, so the invite’s mainly for me, but obviously—”

“Wait, since when are you friends with Mark?”

“I work here too?”

“Yeah but…”

“But what?”

“But you’re…” You trailed off as you tried to both talk and assimilate this new information at the same time.

He crumpled the paper wrapper into a ball and pegged it into the wastebasket next to the copier before standing up straight. “I’m… what? Just a gofer?”

“No, Sungchan, that’s not what I meant!” You immediately defended yourself against his jibe.

“An extension of you? Only got a job so they could hire you?” He continued his snippy taunts.

“Stop it! You know that’s not what I was going to say!”

“Well you can’t seem to say it, so I’m just trying to help.”

“God, can you stop being so defensive for five seconds so we can have a fucking conversation?” You were seeing red, balling your hands into fists down by your side as it took every shred of self-control to keep your voice quiet enough that hopefully the entire floor couldn’t hear you yelling at Sungchan right now. “I was trying to say you’re always so busy running around doing things when you’re here, I didn’t realize you and Mark were like, office buddies or whatever. God, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Sungchan faltered, all coarse, biting sarcasm falling from his face as his jaw dropped. “Y/N—”

“You keep saying we can’t hate each other anymore, but you won’t let me! It’s like you’re allowed to grow and change but I’m not, and I’m fucking sick of it!” You weren’t done, and you definitely didn’t want to hear whatever he had to say next. “So no! I don’t want to go to basketball! Might as well embrace being the cold-hearted bitch you’ve pigeonholed me as!”

You stormed out of the copy room. A quick glance at your computer told you that it was almost time for your team meeting. You snatched up your notebook and folder, heading off towards the conference room.

“Oh! Before I forget—” Sooyoung perked up from across the booth table. “Soojin and I are hosting a little get-together for all the soulbound people we know in a couple months. It’ll be at our place, just a casual, potluck thing. You and Sungchan are invited, obviously. We don’t have an exact date yet, but just to put it on your radar!”

You couldn’t even muster up a fake thank-you and smile, instead groaning and dropping your face into your hands at the mention of Sungchan, and being soulbound, and specifically being soulbound to Sungchan.

“I just stumbled into all your other problems, didn’t I?” She asked knowingly.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, nodding your head in your hands.

“Well, come on, tell me,” she encouraged you. “I’m all ears.”

You tried to explain your current predicament as articulately as possible, while also not taking up your entire lunch break. Sooyoung listened attentively, sipping on her drink and nodding.

“I just don’t know what he wants from me,” you finished with a sigh, crossing your arms over your chest and plopping back against the booth.

Your friend leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and folding her arms delicately over each other. “What do you want from him?”

“I—Uhm…” You bit the inside of your cheek. “That other Type 2 pair that you know—What are they like? Are they kinda like you and Soojin? Or are they like best friends or something?”

“They’re soulbound. I don’t think they really call it anything else.” She took another drink. “Sungchan’s being a bit of a dick, but he’s right about one thing; you worry a lot about what other people think.”

You gestured to her empty ring finger. “You’re not married.”

“No, I’m not,” she agreed placidly. “We both know that dating when you’re soulbound has… unique challenges.”

“Everyone used to say we fought like siblings, or assumed that we must be like siblings because we were soulbound. But Sungchan’s never felt like my brother. He’s always just been Sungchan.” You shrugged. “An inevitable fact of my life. Nobody knows me better than him, and vice versa. For better and for worse. And for most of our lives, it’s been for worse.”

“But lately, it’s been better? Until today, of course.”

“Yeah, it really has been. He’s been great, but at the same time it feels like he still sort of expects the worst of me.”

“Like he hasn’t completely let go of how you used to treat each other.”

“I guess,” you huffed, dropping your cheek to your chin. “He’ll be all cool and fun and thoughtful to me, but then he can never let me be nice to him. And I just seriously don’t know what he wants from me.”

The waiter came by with your food then, and after taking your first few bites, Sooyoung spoke up again. “You still haven’t told me… What do you want from him?”

“I—” You cut yourself off with a disbelieving chuckle. “I was about to say, ‘I want more.’ But we already literally share a soul; how much more is there?”

Sooyoung’s lips twitched with amusement too, but she seemed to understand you nevertheless. “You want something different.”

“Yeah, that’s one word for it.” You took another bite of your food, and to your relief, she didn’t push you on the topic any further. Instead, your conversation veered into other subjects, work, books she had read recently, a show you were watching, easy things.

At the end of the day, you briefly contemplated pretending to have work in order to stay late and not walk home with Sungchan, but also that would involve staying at work late, which sounded marginally worse in that moment. So with a sigh, you saved the document on your screen and logged out of your computer. You didn’t have to go looking for Sungchan, he was already heading towards your desk as you pushed your chair in and shouldered your purse.

He was silent in the elevator with your other coworkers, as he held the lobby door open for you, throughout the entire walk home, and in the elevator with some of your neighbors. It was as soon as your front door shut that he opened his mouth.

“I’m sorry.”

You rolled your eyes as you leaned against the wall to pull your boots off, knowing that he couldn’t see it from behind you. “For?”

“What I said in the copy room earlier.”

You turned around, holding your opposite arm with one hand, your shoes in your free hand that was hanging down by your side. “Have other people said that about you? At work?”

“No.”

“Then… Is that really how you see me? That I-I think those things about you? Or could think those things about anybody?”

“No! No!” His eyes widened, panicked, hands waving in front of him hurriedly as he took a step forward. You took a step back. He stopped in his tracks, pulling his hands back closer to himself. His throat bobbed up and down as he swallowed.

“I don’t believe you,” you said quietly. “Leave me alone tonight, okay?”

“I—Okay.” He watched you walk away, then after a beat, called out shakily, “Am I still making dinner?”

“I have leftovers.”

“Right. Okay.”

Sungchan wasn’t working the next day, and you were glad when he kept himself scarce in the morning while you were getting ready. Unfortunately, however, that was possibly the only good thing about that morning. You had turned off your alarm in your sleep, woke up with barely enough time to take a much-needed shower, were so disoriented while you were taking the aforementioned shower that you did your routine completely out of order and kept dropping all the bottles on your toes, and stumbled off the elevator into work almost twenty minutes late. As you were leaving the apartment, you hardly registered the note on the whiteboard on the front door that Sungchan was at the gym.

Being twenty minutes late gave you just enough time to grab your materials for your meeting that was in ten minutes and hustle across the entire building to the opposite side of the floor to the conference room—no time for your morning coffee. After that, you had back-to-back meetings and couldn’t even think about opening your email until noon, where you were of course greeted by an onslaught of urgent issues that needed to be dealt with ASAP. You waved off the invite to lunch from your coworkers, mindlessly lifting your blessed first cup of coffee to your lips, not even tasting it as you were focused on your computer screen.

The first time you swore you breathed was when the coffee cup was drained, and everything was no longer on fire in your inbox. You were contemplating whether to pop down to the cafeteria to grab something to bring back to your desk, or just get another cup of coffee and power through when the elevator dinged and someone stepped off, heading towards your desk. Figuring that it was Mark and the others back from lunch already, you glanced over, doing a double-take at who it actually was.

“You’re not scheduled today,” you told Sungchan plainly, eyeing his casual outfit of a hoodie, jeans, and backwards baseball cap. Very clearly off-the-clock attire.

“Lunch?” He suggested, and despite his casual posture with his hands stuffed in the pocket of his jeans, the waver in his voice and the way he squinted one eye belied his nerves. Obviously you two were on… uncertain terms at best right now.

You pursed your lips and gestured to your computer. “I’ve got so much to do—”

“I figured, Mark told me you didn’t go to lunch with them.” Sungchan shrugged off a bag that you hadn’t even noticed he had slung over one shoulder. “That’s why I brought you food.”

“Oh, Channie…” You breathed out as he handed you a lunchbox from inside the bag.

He shouldered it again, turning to leave. “See you at home.”

“Wait, I can take ten minutes to eat.” You offered. “If you want to stay.”

He beamed. “Of course.”

The two of you went to the rooftop, where a lounge area for employees had been set up with tables, chairs, and various greenery around. You eagerly dug into the bento that Sungchan had prepared for you, much hungrier than you had realized. Sungchan had no meal of his own, obviously not planning on you inviting him to stay with you, but he seemed quite content to sit across the table from you and silently watch the city.

When you were no longer completely starving, you finally slowed down enough to talk. “Thanks, Sungchan.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.” He belatedly accepted your thanks, pulling his gaze back and turning his head over to you, as if he weren’t even expecting you to speak to him.

“Do I take it too far sometimes? When I tease you?” You asked, brows furrowed together tightly.

“What? No, never,” he assured you adamantly. “You were right, I-I was using you to focus my own insecurity. I told myself that you probably thought all that stuff, but it was all coming from me, not you.”

“I wish the me in your head would be kinder to you,” you said, blinking away the tears in your waterline that you told yourself were thanks to the wind. “When I think about you when you’re not here, I think about what we’re going to have for dinner, or try to guess what you’re doing at the moment, or about wherever we’re going this weekend.”

Sungchan looked down guiltily, picking at the skin around his nails. “I’m afraid—I don’t want you to be stuck to a-a loser for your whole life, you know? You’re so smart, and you have all these ambitions, and you’ve started your dream career. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“Sungchan.” You set your utensils down, squaring your shoulders. “You quit your job, uprooted your entire life, and moved to a new city for my dream career. How could you possibly think you’re holding me back in any way? And stop calling yourself a loser! Or just a gofer! Or anything else! I’ve literally never seen you sit down at work, and when you’re not at work, you do everything at our apartment. I don’t think I even know how to operate our laundry machines!”

“I have the time…”

“Do you know how quickly I’d get burnt out if I was doing all the work I did here and all the stuff that you do at home by myself? Without you?” You continued. “You are not holding me back. You’re why I can do this at all, okay? And not just because we’re soulbound and I physically need you nearby, but you make everything else easier.”

He smiled softly, a little bittersweet, and dropped his hands to his lap. “I’m sorry, Y/N. So, so sorry.”

“I forgive you.” You pick your utensils back up and start gathering your next bite of food to look away from him, to break the heavy moment. Clearing your throat, you asked lightly, “So, basketball is tomorrow?”

“I mean, I already told Mark we weren’t going to make it—”

“Tell him our plans changed and see if the offer’s still on,” you encouraged him. “I did tell your mom I’d let you out for exercise.”

“Kind of feels like you’re arranging a playdate for me right now.”

You reached across the table to teasingly tweak his cheek as you cooed, “You need to make friends, sweetie. I’m worried about you.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “I bite.”

“Promise?”

“We’re at work,” he snickered, in the same tone as when you were outside the library.

“You offered,” you tutted, withdrawing your hand and picking up your utensil again.

The indoor basketball court at Mark’s place was nice, just like the pictures you and Sungchan had looked at before. You sat on the small set of bleachers pushed up against one wall of the court as they played, grunts, shouts, and sneaker squeaks echoing around while your attention was on your phone.

A cacophony of shouts of your name and presumably the word ‘duck!’ caught your attention, and your head snapped up just in time to spot a basketball headed straight for your face. You hit the deck, pitching yourself to the floor between the seats of the stands as the ball flew right over where you had been sitting and bounced off the wall behind you.

“Shit, Y/N, you alright?” Sungchan leaned down over where you were still lying between the bleachers.

“Busted my elbow I think,” you groaned, accepting his hand up and maneuvering back up into a sitting position to inspect the wounded area. “I’ll live, thanks.”

“Nice reflexes!” Zhong Chenle, one of Mark’s neighbors that had joined the game, called from the far end of the court with a big thumbs up.

“Sorry, Y/N!” Mark yelled as he was still chasing down the basketball.

Sungchan took your arm and turned it over. Despite the awkward angle that it put your shoulder at, you let him. He inspected the area, and presumably upon seeing no split skin or blood, he clicked his tongue and nodded. “You’ll live.”

“Thank God. I really did see the light at the end of the tunnel for a second there.”

“Want to learn how to shoot?”

You cocked your head as you looked up at him strangely. “Aren’t you like… in the middle of something right now?”

“We’re taking a break.” He grabbed his water bottle from his bag by your feet, taking a swig.

It was then that you took stock of the court and realized that quite a few of the other players were missing, while others were getting water and chatting by their own bags.

“I mean, from what I’ve heard, I don’t think I should really be learning from you…”

“I actually get 100% better when I’m showing off, you know.” He crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow. “The fact that you’ve been focusing on your phone has really been hurting my game.”

“A hundred times zero is still zero,” you teased, but stood up nevertheless, looking at him expectantly.

He rolled his eyes as he turned on his heel, leading the way onto the court. The ball had been left in the middle, and he picked it up, guiding you towards the hoop devoid of your coworkers. Sungchan talked through the basics of shooting a free throw, finishing off his explanation by doing one himself. You watched the orange ball leave his fingertips and move in a smooth arc through the air, swishing cleanly through the net.

You clapped politely for him as he fetched the ball at a light jog. “Wow, Channie. You really do get better when you’re showing off.”

He shrugged and smirked cockily, stopping in front of you to deposit the basketball into your hands. “Your turn.”

When he still hadn’t moved after a beat, very much blocking your view of the net, you bumped him in the chest with the ball. “You mind?”

He circled around behind you, and before you could even begin positioning yourself how he had instructed, he clicked his tongue. “Wrong.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Yeah, but I know you were about to do it wrong,” he snickered, and was suddenly much closer. Both of his large hands came around to adjust exactly where your fingers were resting on the seams of the ball. “Right… there…” Sungchan murmured, breath washing over the shell of your ear as his fingertips lingered on the back of your hands.

“I don’t think you actually care very much about how well I shoot this ball,” you stated, turning your head towards him, very aware now of how close he was.

“Mm, of course I do.” His hands fell to your hips. “Bend here, and at your knees too.”

“If you teach me how to shoot a basketball, do I have to teach you how to read?”

“Might be too ambitious. You have to make this basket first.”

“Not confident in your teaching abilities?”

A throat was cleared from much further behind you, overlapped by a voice that definitely wasn’t Sungchan. “Uh, you guys know there’s other people here, right?”

Despite the white-hot embarrassment churning in your stomach, you kept your face calmly neutral as you slowly spun around to face—yep, all of your coworkers, who had been standing around watching and waiting to continue to their game for God knows how long. You were pretty sure it had been Jeno who cleared his throat while Donghyuck actually spoke.

Sungchan took the basketball back from you, innocently asking, “Water break over?”

“I can’t do lunch today by the way. Sorry,” you informed Sungchan as you reached around him to grab the toast that had just popped up. He was off today, so the two of you would usually meet up for lunch, either at a restaurant, work, or home.

Sungchan handed you the plate of eggs he’d just dished up. “That’s okay. Other lunch plans come up?”

“I’ve got a last-minute presentation to prepare for. I’m just going to have to get something from the cafeteria and eat it at my desk.” You didn’t even sit down, grabbing a fork and shoveling food into your mouth as you eyed the time on the stove clock.

“Alright, well good luck with that.” He took his own breakfast to the kitchen table. “We’re dogsitting for the Chois for the next two weeks, so I’ll probably take Apple around the block a few times and feed her.”

“The old couple in 801?” At his nod, you cocked your head questioningly. “When did we agree to that?”

“Mrs. Choi cornered me in the elevator coming home from work yesterday. Apparently, their daughter-in-law just had their first grandbaby so they’re staying with them to help out.”

“Huh.” You dropped your plate in the sink. “I’ll wash that when I get home.”

“I’ll get it.”

“Thanks Channie. Have fun with Apple!” You bent down to give him a fleeting hug as you ran out of the kitchen.

“Have fun with your presentation!” He called after you.

Truthfully, the reason why you were in such a rush to get into the office early this morning was so you could take an extra-long lunch break—not because you weren’t taking one at all. Saving your work, you slung your purse over your shoulder and hurried out of the building. Sungchan’s self-assigned birthday was this weekend, and you wanted to do something extra special.

Ever since you were kids, you and Sungchan hated having to share your birthday with each other, because you also shared classmates and friends who could only go to one party at a time if they were on the same day. Joint parties were out of the question after the age of three, leading you to also fight about which of you would get to have your party on the actual day of your birthday each year. It had become such a vitriolic topic that the only solution your parents could come up with was for neither of you to get your real birthday—each of you picking a new day in a completely different month to celebrate your own birthdays on.

Since you’d never really done anything nice for Sungchan on any of his birthdays before (without being forced to by your parents), going out of your way to do something was already astronomically kind by those metrics. But this time, you wanted to find him a really nice present. After everything he’d done for you lately, you finally had a chance to do something for him.

You knew that technically, for both your safety, you should be telling Sungchan that you were leaving work and where you were going. But this felt like a pretty safe bet to you. He’d already told you he was just going around your apartment’s block with Apple, and the shopping district you had in mind to look around in would be just on the outer edges of the safe radius for you two. And this was supposed to be a surprise, after all. Telling him that you were going to a shopping district just a few days before his birthday? That would completely give it away.

The train zipped away from the station, the city buildings rushing by the window. You smiled down at your phone as you looked once more at the pictures that Sungchan had sent you with Apple that morning. Apple was a tiny dog with curly brown fur, her pink tongue lolling out of her mouth as Sungchan had clearly walked her for more than a just few laps around the block. Sungchan was grinning at the camera, holding Apple up with one hand to get her in frame. You’d been too busy to reply earlier, and did so now.

[you: don’t tell me you made poor apple do a marathon, there’s no way the chois take her further than the cornerstore]

[channie: we went around the block as promised]

[you: how many times?]

[channie: normal amount]

[channie: so what’s for lunch?]

[you: salad. you?]

A thunderclap of pain suddenly exploded through your head, and you threw a hand up to clutch your forehead as it seemed to be splitting open. At the same time, it felt like someone had reached into your abdomen, grabbed your insides, and twisted them. You couldn’t catch your breath through the sharp pressure constricting around your chest, desperately rooting around in your purse for your bottle of poppys. The longer your fruitless search went, the more panicked you became, until a horrifying realization struck you. You’d given your bottle of souLOXin to Sungchan after your interview—and you hadn’t gotten a refill since moving. Your hands were shaking as you had enough of a mind to take your phone that was in your hand, your texts with Sungchan still up on the screen, and press the call button next to his name.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The steady beeping of a machine woke you up. A faint, dull, persistent ache permeated your body, settled deep below your skin. You let out a sigh that turned into a guttural groan as you tried to move your limbs, immediately feeling the heaviness. You tried to open your eyes instead, having better success at that.

It took several slow blinks to clear out your blurry vision, but you finally started piecing together the scene in front of you. Your gaze landed on Sungchan first, sat in a chair next to the bed you were in—Not your bed, a hospital bed. You were in a hospital room, though it was dim, presumably nighttime.

Sungchan finally spoke, “Did you know we have the same blood type?”

That drew your attention to where his arm was laid out on the armrest of his chair, an IV taped down at his vein, the tubing looping up into a machine, coming back out and ending in your own arm. You allowed yourself a moment to process this, how serious the soulsickness must have been to require a direct blood transfusion. Then you answered Sungchan’s question with another question, “We share a soul and you’re surprised we have the same blood type?”

“Fair point.” He fidgeted with the tape over his IV, smoothing down a corner that had curled up. “How do you feel?”

“Like shit, but I’ll be fine. How-How about you?”

“I had my poppys, so it wasn’t so bad. Or, I had your poppys, actually.”

“We should be better about getting refills, huh?”

“We’re together all the time, I completely forgot…”

You squinted upon noticing a bouquet of yellow and pink carnations on a side table. “Please tell me those are from somebody else and that you did not stop to get me fucking flowers while I was dying.”

“They are from me butbutbut,” he held his hands up defensively, “I had already gotten them by the time you called. As soon as I knew what was happening, I came straight here. Promise.”

“Mm, alright,” you hummed in amusement.

“You should rest some more—”

“Wait, why were you getting flowers? For the apartment?”

He sighed, rubbing his face with both hands as he leaned forward, supporting his elbows on his knees. “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, Y/N.”

“No, Channie, you didn’t—”

“Yeah, I did,” he insisted, his voice clearly pained and angry with himself. “I… lied this morning, when I said that I was just going to stay around the block. When you said you’d be stuck at work all day, I wanted to do something nice to surprise you, so I left without telling you. God, it was so stupid, I thought I was close enough, I’m so sorry—”

“You got those for me?” You asked.

“Yeah, I was going to get something from that bakery you really like before it closed, too. I shouldn’t have—”

“Sungchan.”

“—on the other side of town, why did I—”

“Channie!” You clapped your hands loudly to get his attention. When he finally looked at you, eyes wide with surprise, you burst into laughter. “I lied too. I didn’t have a presentation. I was out getting you a present.”

“For… what?”

“Your birthday?”

“Oh! Fuck! With everything that happened, I completely forgot!” He ran a hand through his hair, face finally cracking into a smile.

“And it’s extra my fault for not refilling my poppys,” you added. “Really, I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“No, Y/N, it’s okay,” Sungchan reassured you, scooting his chair up closer to your bedside. “I’m just glad you’re alright. But no more surprises. For either of us.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” you chuckled. “You’ll just have to close your eyes when you come shopping with me for your birthday present then.”

“And how will I navigate the store? Echolocation?”

“As much as I’d love to see you do that, this might work better.” You slipped your hand into his.

Sungchan’s hand immediately wrapped around yours, squeezing tightly. “Maybe this year we can celebrate our real birthday? Together?”

“After all the trouble I went through trying to get you a present?” You joked, punctuated by a cough.

“All this and you didn’t even get one.” He shook his head in feigned disappointment.

“How about we celebrate all three? Your birthday, my birthday, our birthday.”

“Three parties?”

“Hell yeah. And twice the presents for each of us.”

He laughed softly. “Sounds good to me.”

You watched him fondly, the crinkle of his eyes, the curl of his lip as he smiled, the way his hair fell in his face before he reached up to push it out of the way. “I’m glad it’s you,” you admitted. “That I’m soulbound to.”

He pressed his cheek against the back of your hand. “Me too. I’m glad it wasn’t some other dumb baby in that hospital…”

“Yeah, I just got this dumb baby,” you snickered, patting his head.

“That’s right.”

A yawn escaped your mouth, and you settled back against the pillows. “Mm… I think I’m going to sleep again.”

“Okay.” He laid his head on your leg. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Of course.” You smiled as your eyes fluttered shut. “Night, Channie.”

You were released in the morning, and took the rest of the week off from work to recover fully. Much to your chagrin, Sungchan had already informed both your families of the incident. Your assurances that you were fine fell on deaf ears, as they insisted on needing to see you themselves, with the tacked-on excuse of also celebrating Sungchan’s birthday while you were all together again. That visit wasn’t until the weekend, to give you a few days’ rest and in hopes that there would be nicer weather.

A storm had been raging outside all day, the cold sheets of rain not letting up even into the evening and nighttime after dinner. The two of you had already taken poor little Apple out twice today, which is how you knew that the rain was freezing cold.

“Can’t believe we’re going back again,” you commented, scrolling through your phone as you laid on top of Sungchan’s covers, and he folded his clean clothes that were taking up the other half of the bed.

“Are you excited? Despite being pissed at the fact that I told them what happened,” he asked.

“I was more-so pissed because I know my mom is going to start nagging me about my meds again,” you huffed. “I finally got her off my back when we moved.”

“Maybe she was justified in her nagging.”

“Don’t even joke like that around her.” You pointed at him threateningly. “We both just picked up fresh refills yesterday, it’s fine.”

He laughed and shook his head. “I think it’s going to be weird.”

“What do you mean? It’s literally just our parents.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think they’re going to know what to do with us now that we’re getting along.”

“Hmm, yeah, you’re probably right.” You turned your phone off as you mulled this over. “My mom still doesn’t seem to get that we go places together instead of one of us forcing the other to come with. Like, I mentioned that we went to that farmer’s market last month to her, and she asked me what you were doing while I was at the market. I mean, we were obviously shopping together?”

“She thought you had dropped me off at daycare or something?” He snickered.

“Or left you in the car with the windows cracked? I don’t even know,” you huffed. “They’ll get over it. We’ve always been soulbound, it shouldn’t be that weird that we like each other.”

Sungchan looked over at you as he went to shut a drawer, his open mouth as he went to say something instead screwing up in pain at the same time a dull thunk was audible.

“Fuck!” You both cursed in unison. Your right index finger was throbbing, and you immediately dropped your phone to inspect it.

“What? What happened to you?” He asked as he shook out his right hand.

“My finger…” You pouted, seeing no injury to your own skin. Suddenly, you heard another drawer slam shut a split-second before pain shot through your other pointer finger. “Ow!”

“Left hand this time?” Sungchan questioned, extracting his left hand from one of his dresser drawers with a wince.

“Yes. I’m literally just sitting here, I don’t—”

“That’s what I thought.” He groaned a little as he picked up another shirt and went back to folding. “We’re feeling each other’s pain again.”

“So you purposefully slammed your finger in a drawer to test that?” You reached over to smack his arm, maybe a little too hard as you felt the sting on your own skin. “What is your problem?”

“Bit hypocritical coming from the person who went to a job interview knowing it could’ve killed me.”

You didn’t have a good rebuttal in the moment, so you just hit his arm again. He shook you off with a smirk, picking up the last article of clothing to fold. You flopped down in the middle of the wide-open bed, crossing your arms and openly glaring at him.

Sungchan put the final pair of pants away, and upon turning around to see you, held up both of his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Now come on, make some room or get squished.”

You wordlessly rolled back over to one side, staring up at the ceiling as Sungchan flopped onto his bed as well. When the sounds of him readjusting and getting comfortable under his covers had faded out into just the sounds of your breathing, you asked into the quiet, “Why now? Why do you think it came back?”

“I don’t know.” He breathed out, then added jokingly, “Want to go see Dr. Park while we’re home?”

“I’m sure she’d just say it was another phase,” you snickered. “But this better be it, I don’t want whatever Type Ones have got going on.”

“It does sound like it’d be overwhelming.”

A flash of lightning illuminated the edges of the curtains, followed closely by a crack of thunder so loud you jumped a little.

“Need to hide under the covers again?” Sungchan asked through barely concealed laughter, holding up the blankets next to him.

“If I recall correctly, you were the one who couldn’t sleep alone during those storms,” you argued, but slipped under the blankets anyway.

Sungchan did, in fact, pull them over your heads, swallowing you up in darkness. “Yeah, because I could tell you were scared and I knew you wouldn’t ask—”

“Oh, you’re such a liar!” You blindly reached out to push on his chest indignantly, pretty much hitting your target.

He laughed as he used his free hand to try to grab your hands, his other still preoccupied with holding the covers up off your faces. He successfully secured one, “Alright, hold on. Doctor hasn’t cleared you for rough-housing yet.”

“That just means you can’t fight back.” Your eyes were adjusting to the light, and you aimed for his side this time to tickle him.

The sheets were dropped as he went to protect his sides, and you were momentarily sightless again as the cloth entirely obscured your vision. Sungchan took advantage of your incapacitation to (gently) wrestle you off of him and back to your side. You were laughing too much to fight back now, half-heartedly hitting his hands or arms as he grabbed you. He was laughing too, the light, breathy sounds mixing with your own.

“Channie,” you went to get his attention as the playful moment subsided. You couldn’t tell who was holding whose hands at this point, one of his legs half on top of yours as if he were preparing to hold you down at a moment’s notice.

“Hm?” He hummed back inquisitively.

“When you picture your life in ten years, what does it look like?”

“Well… You’re there…” He paused to think for a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m with you. The rest… I don’t know. Depends on how this career thing goes for you. Maybe you’ll have gotten a really good promotion by then and we’ll be in an even nicer place. Or maybe you’ll have an early midlife crisis and we’ll become farmers or something.”

“I want something different,” you blurted out, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions that his words brought.

“I mean, I guess we could do something else. Beekeeping?”

“No, not in our hypothetical life after I have an early midlife crisis.” You swallowed down the lump growing in your throat. “Now. I mean, I know we’re soulbound, so there’s not much more we can be, but I want this to be different.”

“Different how…?” He asked lowly.

You took one of his hands that you were already holding and pulled it to your cheek. “I’m not kidding this time, Sungchan.”

“I never was,” he murmured, thumb running over your cheekbone gently.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet, deliberate kiss. Everything from your head to your toes was buzzing, and you melted into him immediately. Sungchan kept the kiss short, eyes scanning your face as soon as he broke it.

You couldn’t help but snicker a little. “That’s it? After all that talk?”

Sungchan narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re a menace,” he declared before claiming your mouth in a searing kiss. Using the leg that was already over yours as leverage, he flipped you onto your back, holding you in place with a knee on either side of you.

“Your menace,” you laughed into his mouth, twisting the hair at the nape of his neck around your finger. “Forever.”

The smile on his face as he looked down at you was far from annoyed, overly fond and tender as he laced his fingers with yours. “Yeah, I know.”

⤷ masterlist

TAGLIST

@jvngw0nlvr @kingsoowolves @aishonline @kamelyrics @dwcljh

@annenakamura @bee-the-loser @dejundesign @lotties-readings @ppddpjdr @reiofsuns2001 @snowyseungs @tearinka @yoursyuno @yutasputa69 @winkeuu

@classicroyalty @fairvtale @giirlfriendd @shaqs-oatmeal @sofipolii01

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Doing the Debate Scene Right

Because I am an ancient internet creature, Linkara's "We should do something" rant lives rent free in my brain. (For context, this is about one particular comic run, but could be applied to so many comics and books):

The "should we do something" aka The Debate Scene is loads of fun to write, which is why it's so common. It's when your characters need to make a choice about what to do next, and often will happen more than once in a novel. It lets you bounce characters off each other and get some fantastic dialogue down. It's also a real killer of tension and can kill your plot progression dead if you don't plan it carefully.

Do:

Always have a scene goal. Getting into the dialogue and debate can be a lot of fun, but these scenes can meander if you don't have a set goal in mine for it. Will the characters come together, or fracture away from each other? Do we learn something new about the characters as they argue, gain insight on their goals and wants, even if they don't say them out loud? Is there a ticking clock to make the debate more important?

Some decision needs to be made (even if it isn't shared). No matter how divided your characters are, a debate scene needs to end with progress being made - be it plot progress (the characters decide to confront the dragon) or character progress (the MC agrees to wait but secretly resolves to sneak out to confront the dragon herself).

Always progress both the plot and characters. My comic book club read a book we really liked recently, but one major sticking point came through - every time there was a debate, it was always the same. The characters never learned to listen to each other, and they kept picking at the same flaws of the other characters. This made it feel like the characters never grew or changed, and the ending felt unearned. If your characters learn nothing about each other over the course of the book, you'll keep repeating the same scenes over and over.

Try to avoid:

Revealing major secrets. I know this sounds counterintuitive, because these scenes seem like they're a great place for confrontation. But often your characters are trying to hide their secrets, and a simple argument is not going to pry it out of them. Instead, you can heighten the tension by avoiding revealing the secret until the worst possible moment, heightening the tension and danger. (If your character is lying about their magical abilities, revealing that in the middle of the dragon attack is much better than when there is no danger present.)

Lacking urgency. You know all those work meetings where people agree something needs to be done, yet no one does it, because there's no consequences attached? Having no deadline in your debate scenes is one way to kill momentum. The characters need reasons to move forward, and giving them dwindling time to do it in means your debate scene has meaning. (Instead of the dragon attacking the town eventually, the protagonists know they have three days to stop it.)

Unnecessary debate for witty batter alone. A staple of many a romance, the love interest annoying your protagonist into a relationship can be a lot of fun, but often come off as contrived if there is no reason behind it. You can have your character debate the main character for the hell of it, but it would have so much more punch if they was doing it for a reason they won't reveal. (He's secretly a half-dragon sent to stop the main characters from succeeding.)

When drafting, feel free to write as many a debate scene as you want. There are some gems in there, and you are going to tighten up your plot later. However, it's always good to go into them with a goal, a sense of urgency, and some progress made (you can pinpoint all of these after you draft the scene!)

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

✨If we’re doing this, we’ll do it properly!✨

Day 5 (July 5th, 2025)

The wheel did not disappoint today because I get to do one of my favorite tropes 🥰

Pairing: Lucifer x f!reader

Warnings: NSWF, first time sex, fingering, p in v

After countless months of dancing around your feelings, lack of communication, and general disarray of admittance of your love for each other, here you were—laid half naked on Lucifer’s king bed with the man hovering above you kissing you senseless. He explored your mouth like he would keel over if he couldn’t have it. You did the same in return, matching his passionate and starving demeanor. But unexpectedly, he pulled away to your dismay.

“Wait wait wait,” he said trying to catch his breath. “This isn’t right.”

“Lucifer?” you asked, feeling your heart sink into your stomach. “I…I’m sorry…if we’re going too fast, we can stop…”

“What? OH! No no no no no no!” He was quick to halt your downward spiral. “That’s not what I meant, hon! Believe me, I would very much like to keep going. But, if we’re doing this, we’ll do it properly!”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that until the lights in his room began to dim with the snap of his fingers. Another snap followed, summoning a bunch of candles to liter the room. A final snap summoned a record player that began to play soft, sensual music that filled the large bedroom.

A tiny chuckle left your lips, flattered that he wanted to set the mood for you. “You’re sweet, Lucifer. But I don’t think we need all this.”

Lucifer smiled down at you. “We don’t need it, but…considering what we’re about to do, I want to make it special. I want to remember this night with you, I want to remember every single detail. The aroma from the candles, the beautiful music playing, the way you look beneath me and the way you feel in my arms…”

Lucifer lost his train of thought as he leaned down to devour your mouth once again. He was nothing if not a showman, of course he wanted to impress you. The scene had definitely been set and he was determined to make it a night you’d never forget.

But as you began to drink him in once more, his hands started to wander, stopping at the hem of your panties. You breath hitched, Lucifer noticed.

“May I?” he murmured against your lips. Everything about him was intoxicating, your head was dizzy and you could hardly think straight. But you were able to cobble together a soft “yes” before you felt his slender fingers dip beneath the fabric.

He found your clit almost instantly, sending electric shocks throughout your entire body. He captured your moans with his lips, keeping you focused on only him. Tentatively, one of his digits breached your entrance, dipping into slowly. You felt your body grow hotter and hotter with each of his movement.

“You’re so cute, you know that?” he chuckled. Of course the sin of pride would revel at the sight of you coming undone because of him. But he himself couldn't hide the very obvious golden blush spreading across his cheeks as he fingered you. He was trying desperately to maintain as much composure as he could. You both knew how long it's been for him since he's been so intimate with another person.

"Y-You're cuter," you whimpered, attempting to wither away his resolve. It worked a bit as he was unable to meet your eyes for a few seconds while he took deep and steady breaths.

"You're gonna be the death of me one of these days," he responded, sinking an extra digit into you. After a few more minutes of warming you up, he slowly removed his fingers from your entrance, now covered in your slick. His tongue wrapped around them, licking them clean before he stared you down like a man starved. "W-Wow, I uhh...you taste...really good, sweetie. I'll have to have more soon. But for now..." he snapped away the remainder of his clothes as well as yours, his very obvious erection pressed against your needy core. "Are you ready? You're sure you want this? Because if not, we can stop right now and-"

"Lucifer," you said bitingly, "if you don't fuck me right now, I'll never forgive you."

Lucifer's eyes widened by the boldness of your words, but promptly lined up his member, taking deep breaths and telling you to do the same. Lethargically, the head of his cock pushed past your lower lips, sinking deeper and deeper into you. Inch by inch, you enveloped him until he bottomed out in you. Your arms flung around his neck, making any attempt you could to ground yourself. The noises he made when he finally felt you fully was something you would remember for the rest of time.

"You can move, Luci, it's alright." With no more prompting, Lucifer began to shift his hips, pulling out almost all the way before sinking back into you. Over the next minute or two, he began to pick up the pace. Neither of you could form any coherent words except for the curses that fell from your lips. He was everything you could want and more. You knew you weren't going to last much longer with the way his hips were slamming into you now. And judging by the way he was struggling to maintain compose, neither was he.

"I-fffuck, I'm close, love," he panted, "Please, c-can I...I need t-to..."

You found it hard to breathe normally as you desperately clinged to your lover. "Luciferrrrr, fuckfuckfuck...cum in me. P-Please...want you to cum in me!"

It didn't take long for Lucifer to come barreling over the edge at your request. But once you felt his release, yours followed not a second later, squeezing his cock tight and milking him for everything he had. Lucifer collapsed on top of you. Luckily, the man was not very heavy, you could only laugh as you pet his hair as his head was laid on your bare chest.

Lucifer gave you the biggest smile you've ever seen on him before this point. An expression of pure bliss plastered on his face. "Thank you, darling. That was...you were incredible. I love you so much. So so much."

You brought his face up to yours and kissed him tenderly. "I love you too, my sweet little angel."

[4doras]

ONLY EXCEPTION “THEY MADE EVERYTHING FEEL SOFTER.” *ੈ✩‧₊˚  

genre. eunseok x reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, 1.0k, eunseok is in a band (riize hehe) 

ꕤ. i literally wrote this in one go… listening to bea while writing is changing me 🙂‍↕️ ty anon for requesting (˶◜ᵕ◝˶) 

eunseok didn’t have a good day and you could tell. 

for one, he always messages you when he gets home from band practice, no matter how late it was. secondly, he’d send you silly pictures of him and the other members during practice, but today, they never came. lastly, he’d call you when he was about to go to sleep, just to tell you about his practice because he knew you preferred to fall asleep to his voice. 

but tonight? none of that happened. 

more under the cut! 

eunseok was tired. and honestly? all he wanted was peace and quiet. and that’s what he got. 

his house was completely empty, except for the inescapable sounds of his feet dragging on the floor. 

and at this point, everything aggravated him. 

but he was too tired to bother, yet too mad to not care. 

the small droplets of water that fell on the ground because of his still-wet hair that he didn’t bother to dry, the ticking of his alarm clock, the faint sound of something buzzing in his house that he could never track down – it all drove him mad now. 

all because of one little fight. 

even trying to fall asleep wasn’t working; his anger just kept him up. 

he sat up, pressing his digital clock to check the time. 

3:07am. 

now he was really alone. 

until his phone screen lit up. he scampered to check who it was, and by whatever fate, it was you. and truthfully, he had been hoping it was you. 

seok, are you okay? sorry if i’m overthinking it, but you didn’t message me or anything. lmk if you’re okay? please? 

once he fully read what you said, he hurriedly unlocked his phone, typing out a half incomprehensible reply. 

xan we csll?  csll  call? 

minutes later, you were facetiming eunseok whose only light was coming from his phone screen. 

“you scared me, eunseok. you always text me after practice, or during it, but you didn’t do either?” you mumbled, slightly sleepy but awake enough for eunseok. 

how unfair. is all eunseok was thinking. 

you cared for him, were and are always there for him, even at a time like this. you remembered things about him that even he couldn’t. you always knew what he needed and when he needed it. 

you were perfect, even if it was only in his eyes. 

and he couldn’t even send a quick text message to you? he felt like a mess. 

“sorry,” he rubbed his face, “i just had a really bad day, i completely forgot. i’m sorry, y/n.” 

you weren’t exactly looking for an apology, but he seemed really out of it. 

the usual eunseok would’ve teased you, said something about how “you just want a text from him”. 

“wanna talk about it?” his answer being an instant yes showed you how much he needed you right now. 

“i don’t even know anymore, y/n. i feel so… dumb. i can’t believe we fought over something so small, now it’s never gonna be the same between all of us.” he sighed, voice on the verge of breaking. “we’re supposed to be a band, but instead we’re fighting over small things? i don’t know what got into me.” 

somehow, you ended up in his house, sitting on his bed while he told you the whole story. 

“what do i do? i messed everything up, y/n.” he was leaning on the headboard of his bed frame, looking at you with tear-brimmed eyes. 

before saying anything, you moved closer to him, and took him into your arms. he rested his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around you. 

frankly, you weren’t sure of what to say. you weren’t the type of person that people came to when they needed help with resolving friendship issues, but you were determined to become that person for eunseok. 

“seok, fights happen all the time, okay? and it’s not all your fault, everyone was part of it, not just you.” you brushed away a few stray pieces of hair that were falling into his view. “and i know for a fact that you guys can’t go on without one another, there’s absolutely no chance that this is the end.” seeing his face before and after your words, he seemed even sadder after hearing you speak, but hopefully it was a good type of sadness. “you’re okay, the band’s okay, everything is okay.” you only noticed now that you had been holding eunseok’s hands the whole time, squeezing them tighter and tighter with each word. 

you didn’t expect eunseok to be empowered, especially with how much you were doubting yourself, but you hoped that he was at least feeling better. 

“i love you, y/n.” 

that wasn’t what you were expecting, either. 

“you believe in me, even when i feel unsure about myself, you show me that there’s still something left for me to see. you’re always there for me when i need you, good or bad. you always comfort me whenever i need it, even if i don’t tell you, it’s like you just know.” if you didn’t believe him before, you sure did now. 

his voice carried so much weight, like he had been holding it in for ages and finally found the courage to tell you. 

the room fell silent right after, but it was the sort of silence that was needed so you could really understand him, and how much he meant it. 

“actually?” was all you could get out. “you really love me?” now it was your turn to break down. 

as much as eunseok would press for yes, there was no other way to convince you than kissing you, showing you he truly loves you. 

at first, you went still, unsure of how to respond. but once it hit you, it all came naturally. 

you rested your hands on eunseok's nape, kissing him back slowly, but still taking all you wanted. 

he pulled back slowly, giving you time to pull him back to you. 

“you always know how to make me feel better, y/n.” he said, lips slightly brushing against yours. “i love you so much, seriously, y/n.” and this time, he was the one pulling you into the hug, holding you close. 

you pressed a soft kiss to his neck. “i love you too, eunseok.” 

perm taglist. @jellyouse 

[digitialwonderland]

Jester!Johnny x princess!reader + more ;)

Bells and Stripes

Chapter 3 Previous

You had never felt so tense in your life. Your hands went to Johnny’s shoulders, desperately drawing him closer as if you could both hide within each other. “Johnny…”

“Shh, bonnie.” He angled himself, trying to block the view of your body from the door. All while you both listened to the steps as they drew closer and closer.

The sound was soft, almost careful, like someone was trying to sneak around. They approached the door, making you both tense into stone. But then they stopped.

“What the hell?” Johnny murmured, watching the door as silence radiated from it. There was rustling, but then there were footsteps as whoever it was walked away.

A collective sigh of relief escaped you both, Johnny leaned down to drag a few kisses over your cheek. “Stay right here, I’m gonna check.”

“What? No! If anyone sees you at the door they’ll get suspicious.

He lifted himself off of you, smiling a little. “Lassie, if they see you they’re absolutely going to know that you’re doing something you aren’t supposed to.”

You froze, and then you looked down at yourself. Draped over your bed in nothing but a slip that was already half off. “Okay.”

He chuckled, smiling softly at you as he straightened and turned towards the door. His footsteps were careful and calculated. For the first time, you got to see in action what it was like to watch him move without ringing a single bell. With caution, he reached for the door knob, turning it slowly and opening the door even slower.

You held your breath, watching as he stood there for a moment, looked around and then bent to grab something. In just a few short seconds, the door was closed again, but Johnny didn’t turn back around.

“Soap?” The nickname fell from your lips slightly weaker this time. Like you feared believing that the danger had passed.

He looked over his shoulder, his rugged features pinched in confusion, but also something akin to betrayal. “Has someone been leaving you flowers?” He turned, finally revealing the small, but perfectly bloomed rose in his hand.

Confusion instantly filled you. “I thought you were the one leaving those.”

His brows rose as he slowly approached the bed. “As much as I would have loved to, sweetheart, I have never left you a flower.” There was a moment of silence, but the realization dawned in his features. Not the kind that would light up a face and summon a smile, but the kind that darkened in his eyes. “Simon.”

In an instant, he was moving again. “That slimy bastard.” He chucked the flower across the room and spun on his heels to leave.

“Johnny, wait!” You pleaded, still lying in the bed. His warmth was still lingering on your skin, his scent still clung to your clothes. He couldn’t just…leave. “Please, just come back to bed.”

He froze, instantly caught between his anger and his desire to stay. He watched you, his eyes softening the longer he hesitated. A low, frustrated groan left him as he turned and quickly returned to your side. “I need to take care of this, bonnie.” He cupped your face in his rough palms and peppered kisses over your skin. “I promise we will continue this later, but I won’t be able to focus until this is resolved.”

His lips trailed over your cheeks, your brow, your eyes, finally landing with a quick kiss to your lips. “Stay here for now, okay?”

Your heart ached painfully at being left alone, after all this. You understood his anger, but if it was Simon, something in you didn’t want either man to get hurt because of the other. “Okay…” was all you could muster, one word too quiet to be heard by any other.

He let out another tortured sigh, stealing one last kiss before quickly righting his outfit and storming back to the door. “I’ll be back soon.”

Anger, frustration, and urgency broiled hot in Johnnys chest. He slammed his fist hard on Simon’s door again, praying that the man answered before he went crazy.

“What the hell?” Finally, the thick, wooden door creaked open. Simon answered, freshly bathed and with nothing but his trousers, which hung teasingly low on his hips.

Even in the midst of his rage, Johnny had to pause for a moment. Simon was more clean cut than him, given the different backgrounds. And yet, scars littered his toned chest and muscular abdomen. His mask was missing from his face, revealing much softer features than what he had expected. Johnny’s mouth watered at the sight of inked skin on Simon’s biceps and broad shoulders. Even the way his hair was tousled…Jesus.

“McTavish?”

In an instant, he was back on Earth. This was the man who was leaving his girl, his princess, flowers. “You fuckin bastard.” Johnny charged forward and shoved Simon back into his room. “You did it, didn’t you!” He slammed the door behind them, happy to finally let his angry energy out.

He watched as Simon’s face contorted, first with defensive aggression, but then with confusion. “Did what?”

“You left the fuckin flower at her door! You left the rose outside the princess’ door!” Johnny felt like he was spiraling, what kind of man had the audacity? “You made her cry, no doubt you were the reason for that too. When I went to her, her eyes were as red as if she had been crying for hours! And then you have the fuckin balls to leave her a flower?!”

In an instant, Johnny watched as the tough, defiant soldier in front of him melted away. Simon’s eyes softened, his muscles tensed and his hands shook. “She was crying…” the words left his lips like a trembling whisper. Johnny almost had enough sense to stop.

“Of course she was ya numpty!” He shouted, throwing his hands out. With each word, he could feel his accent getting thicker. “I should beat my fists into yer brains for it. Poor thing looked broken as a wounded bird!”

Those words seemed to do more damage than any insult. Simon lifted his hand to his damp hair and sighed heavily. “Oh, love…I didn’t mean to-“ his words were cut short. It was like he transformed into a different man. His features hardened into the stone cold Simon Johnny knew all too well. “Wait. I never left her any flowers.”

“Then who the fuck did?”

The door flung open, startling John out his peaceful quiet.

“Price! We need to put an end to this!” Johnny and Simon, two faces he never thought he’d see together, stormed in. “Somebody left a flower at the princess’ door.” Simon started, his tunic still half off. Johnny quickly cut in, “I was with her, whoever it wasn’t didn’t knock, just left the rose.”

A headache rang painfully in the back of John’s mind. Really, it might do him some good to be firmer with the boys, but he had grown soft with age. Leisurely, he lifted his hand to stop the talking. When the room fell silent, he slowly pulled his glasses off his nose. “Close the door. Then, try again, this time, much slower.”

Simon was quick to follow orders and moved to close the door. But Johnny, ever the wild one, jumped right to repeating the story. “I was with the princess-“

“And I am going to stop you there.” John’s voice was weighed down by a low, protective growl. “You were with the princess, alone, in her chambers?”

That seemed to catch Simon’s attention, it was a pain to watch the poor man slowly realize what was being insinuated. Johnny blushed, but answered with a nod, “yes sir.”

“You motherfucker!” In a flash of movement, Simon launched at Johnny and tackled him to the ground. He reeled back, nearly landing a solid punch.

“Simon!” The whole room froze as John’s voice bellowed. It stopped Simon just long enough for Johnny to quickly explain. “We didn’t do anything…well…we kissed, and uhm did a little more than that…”

“McTavish…”

“Okay! We were interrupted by whoever approached the door to leave the rose. But when I opened it I didn’t see anyone.”

There was a moment of tense silence. To Simon and Johnny, it felt as if the walls had ears that were pressing in closer and closer. Leaving each moment aching with intensity. But John was feeling the pressure for a very different reason, because he knew exactly who left the flower.

He looked at the men in front of him, his boys, two of them at least. There were many things he could do, solve the problem directly being one option. But things like this were delicate, they needed to be handled one problem at a time. “Both of you, off the floor, now.”

It was a nearly comedic scramble to obey before he spoke again. “Something like this could possibly imply the danger of the princess. But given the nature of discovery, I want to try and solve this as quietly as possible.” He paused, really thinking his next words through. “For this night, just this night, I will permit you both to remain within the princess’ chambers. Under the conditions that you will be there to keep her safe if the secret admirer were to return.”

He watched as their eyes widened, it was hard to not chuckle at the contrast. Simon looked as if he was questioning reality, Johnny on the other hand, a mischievous smile was plastered over his face. “I can manage that.”

He earned a glare from Simon, who still looked hesitant. “What about you, Simon,” John pressed, “Johnny will be there, will you?”

It was a dirty way of pushing the issue, but it worked like a charm. “For the princess’ safety, I would do anything.”

“Good. Well then, get the hell out of my office.”

Words could not describe what you were feeling. For the first time ever, you had not only Johnny in your room, but Simon.

You had long since bundled up under your furs and blankets when they arrived. Now, Simon was sitting in a chair, opposite your bed, and Johnny was lying beside you, propped up on an elbow while he tucked your hair behind your ears.

“I’m sorry I left…” he murmured, gently tracing your features. His touch felt good against your skin, it only burned more with the weight of Simon’s gaze. “I-it’s okay… I just…I don’t know.” The words snagged on your tongue as you looked up into his deep blue eyes. It felt like everything was a scramble. His touch was grounding, but Simon’s presence was distracting.

“You missed me…” he answered for you, smiling a little. When you nodded, his smile morphed into a full, proud grin. “Glad I got to leave such an impression, bonnie.” He leaned down, gently peppering a trail of kisses over your cheek to the corner of your lips.

It was brief, but you could feel the tension washing off of Simon. It amazed you that he had remained still for so long. “I promise you,” Johnny murmured, cupping your cheek again as he pulled away. “Next time, I’m not stopping unless you tell me to.” His eyes darkened for a split second, “and I will never leave the bed if you ask me to stay.”

There was a weight in his voice that finally allowed you to anchor yourself to him. Your eyes honed in on his, and Simon was briefly forgotten. As strange as this situation was, Johnny’s presence still had its thrills and charms. “Next time?” You breathed, smiling up at him.

A chuckle fell from his lips, his eyes almost sparkled with devilish delight. “Oh, baby girl, there are going to be many next times.”

He leaned down again, closing his eyes and letting his nose brush yours. “Do you like the sound of that?” For a moment, you were finally able to let Simon fade into the background, with Johnny, it was easy to get addicted to every detail. You hummed, closing the distance just enough to brush the word against his lips. “Yeah.”

There was the sudden scrap of a chair. Just a few thunderous footsteps and Johnny was being shoved away from you. “Get off of her you dog.” Simon growled, making you flinch as Johnny was forced away.

Johnny grunted beside you, looking up at Simon with an accusatory glare. “Don’t get mad at me because I have the guts to do what you want to.” He shot back, so quick as if he had had it loaded and ready in the back of his mind.

Simon froze, his eyes widening and then going nearly black. “I’ll fuckin kill you.” He leaned over you, trying to grab Johnny, but you moved quick.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, “Simon?” Such a simple thing, but it had a shockwave of effects on him. You watched as the tensed, agitated soldier above you melted away. He let out a deep, pathetic groan, nuzzling into your hands and looking down at you. Even his eyes had changed, they warmed and became hooded, like your very touch had sedated him.

“Now who’s the dog…” Johnny muttered, scooting back to his spot beside you. Simon didn’t even react, he just watched you, burying his face in your palms as if he had been starved of touch.

“Is it true, Simon?” You murmured, gently smoothing your thumbs over his skin. Surprised and pleased with the warmth and the gentle prick of his stubble. “This whole time?”

Simon let out a sort of rumble, nearly like a purr. But he only closed his eyes and pressed a soft kiss to your palm. Johnny spoke gently for him, “yes, lassie, this whole time.” You glanced over at him, only to find that he was also watching Simon. Not with a hardened, jealous gaze, which you would have expected. But with something warm in his stormy eyes, they tracked Simon’s movements, not maliciously, but as if he was happy to watch.

Something in your heart fluttered and warmed, something that made you shy away for a moment. Did you like this? You blushed, letting your mind turn over the idea until Johnny looked over to catch the almost guilty expression on your face.

“Don’t hide away from us, bonnie. There isn’t anything to be ashamed about.” You looked over at him, eyes wide with nervousness and maybe a hint of shame. “This…this is-“

“New”, he said the word like a soothing purr. He reached out, gently grabbing your chin and guiding your eyes back to Simon. Who had opened his and was watching everything with his sharp gaze. “Simon, lad,” Johnny grumbled, “as much as I want to dislike you, I think you need to get something off your chest.”

Simon’s eyes never even left yours. His features seemed so soft when framed in your hands, he looked completely different from the masked man you had gotten so used to seeing around. “Simon?” You whispered, earning another groan from him.

“Fuck, the way you say my name…” he murmured, tilting his head and pressing another kiss to your palm. “Sweetheart, words can’t possibly describe…” he looked broken, staring down at you as if he knew you would be the end of him. He had yet to move, but you wanted him closer, wanted to comfort him.

Johnny leaned away, giving you two more space. “Then show her, lad.” That caught Simon’s attention, his dark eyes darted up to Johnny. “You’d allow that?”

Johnny let out a hearty laugh, his eyes sparkling with surprising delight as he looked up at Simon. “I would allow a lot more than you’d expect.”

For a brief second, Simon seemed to want to linger on that, but your touch drew him back down. You felt like your heart might beat out of your chest, your mind didn’t even want to believe that this was happening. Slowly, cautiously, Simon eased his way onto the bed. “Is this okay, princess?” He murmured, slowly lowering himself until he was nearly on top of you.

“Mhm”.

“Is this okay?” His forearms framed your head, but one of his hands had slid under your head into your hair. His scent washed over you, something darker than Johnnys. It filled your lungs and soothed your hearts rampant pace. His lips were just inches away, so close yet so incredibly far. “Yes.”

Your attention was consumed by Simon, even through the blankets the press of his body was addictive. His warmth radiated from every point of contact, making something in you ache painfully for more. Your arms found their way around him, holding him there while you both hung in hesitation.

His breath fanned over your lips, as he waited, nuzzling his nose against yours. “I’ve waited so long”, he barely murmured, like he had been exhausted over the time. With how he had been acting, you had no doubt that he had been. “Then don’t wait any longer,” you said. In the next second, his lips were crashing into yours.

There was something reverent about it, the way he cradled your head and took his time. Simon kissed you like he was savoring every second. His body shifted, pressing more firmly down on you while his hands frantically tried to get the blanket out from between you. A second set of hands joined his, “lift her up.”

You clung to Simon as everything became a blur. Two sets of hands, you didn’t know whose was whose until the blanket was being tossed aside and you were molding into Simon’s chest. “Simon…” the name hadn’t even left your lips before he was capturing it in his. His hands went to your hips, pulling you onto his lap. You felt his tongue tease your lower lip, when you gave him entry it felt like you were drowning in him. His warmth was everywhere, he devoured your mouth while you melted into him.

Then, there was a pressing warmth against your back. Johnny. His scent washed over you and mixed with Simon’s while his mouth slowly started to work over your neck. A moan fell from your lips, high pitch and slightly startled.

“Shhh,” Johnny’s voice rumbled against your back. “If you want this to stop, say ‘red’.” It took you a second to process the words, but then you nodded.

Simon kissed you, running his hands up and down your waist as if he couldn’t get enough of the curve. Johnny nipped gently at your shoulder and started to gently tug the straps of your slip down.

“Wait. Wait.” Simon gasped pulling away with panting breaths and swollen lips. “If we start there’s no going back.” That’s all he could manage, looking between you and Johnny. Johnny paused and his hands slowly returned the straps of your slip to your shoulders.

“Simon’s right, princess…this is a point of no return. As patient as we’ve been, I don’t think either of us will be able to hold back once we take this step.” He paused, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder. “Are you ready for that?”

To be continued in chapter 4 soon, I promise.

[chimerafeathers]

i love that isafrin can be the most straightforwardly romancey, wholesome pairing on a surface level and then you go one (1) level deeper and run into siffrin’s seething guilt and convoluted feelings around touch and intimacy and the extent to which they want or don’t want those things in a specifically romantic way or if he was trying to seek connection and love in any way he could once he knew that Isabeau wanted those things from him in that context, and the combined power trip/self disgust at “manipulating” Isabeau’s desires without his knowledge to make themself feel wanted and in control. and then you keep going and there’s also Isabeau’s own warped self image (still, in spite of all his changes, fearing that he’s someone that would be shameful to know), his “emotionally stable pillar” role and self-taught therapy talk masking his deep fears of real confrontation (struggling loop after loop to confess, not wanting Odile to confront Siffrin about their weird behavior in the sus quest bathroom talk) and how Siffrin’s fear of vulnerability and Isabeau’s fear of Pushing Too Hard allow both of their issues to fester unspoken long after it’s clear that the problems exist.

all this to say. duality of isafrin. makes my heart full and warm and happy to see the sweet, fluffy, silly love and connection between them (mutually romantic or otherwise). and then also. the delicious, delicious complications. gnawing on them like a dog with a beloved bone

[noctlas332]

day three,,,, i would have had liked to work a bit more on this but alas, that did not happen,,

[quietwingsinthesky]

i dont think millie and pre-Got Caged Again lucifer could have gotten anywhere with each other. the context of her as sam’s little sister overshadows everything there: it’s why he has no reason to harm her and every reason to treat her well, the way you’d treat a guest in your house, to prove to sam that he’s capable of that. and it’s why she spends most of the apocalypse treating lucifer specifically as a non-threat, as compared to the actual threats of demons who might not have heard the memo right, angels from heaven who Do Not care about her when getting to sam & dean, and other shit, but also as like. not a person she can communicate with in any meaningful way. he’s a concept, a force of nature, a fairy tale with rules she can understand and survive if she follows them.

post-cage 2 lucifer is a bad roommate but she can talk to him. and he actually learns who she is beyond the context of sam. you know?

[inkskinned]

it's easier to apply for jobs than ever! so what if you lost your insurance, anyone can get a job these days, even without meds. everyone is hiring! there's a "good employee" shortage!

well you just need to revamp your resume, here's a paid app subscription that can read it for you. rewrite the cover letter they won't read. google jobs in my area and then scrawl through Monster/Indeed/worbly. did you want to save the search? this was posted 98 days ago. over 1 billion applicants! this position is trending.

jobs i actively like doing and get paid for. your search returned no results. easy-apply with HireSpin! easy apply with SparkFire! easy apply with PenisFlash! with a few short clicks, get your information stolen.

watch out! the first 98 links on google are actually scams! they're false postings. oopsie. that business isn't even hiring. that other one is closed permanently. find one that looks halfway legit, google the company and the word "careers". go to their page. scroll past brightly-lit diversity stock photo JOIN US white sans serif. we are a unique, fresh, client-focused stock value capitalism. we are committed to excellence and selling your soul on ebay. we are DRIVEN with POWER to INNOVATE our greed. yippee! our company has big values of divisive decision making, sucking our dicks, and hating work-life balances. our values are to piss in your mouth. sign here and tell us if you have gender issues so we can get ahead of the sexual harassment claim. are you hispanic although let's be real we threw out the resume when we saw your last name.

sign up to LinkHub to access updates from this company. make a HirePlus account to apply. download the PoundLink app. your account has been created, click the link we sent you in 15 minutes. upload that resume. we didn't read the resume, manually fill in the lines now. what is your expected pay grade. oh actually we want hungry people, not people driven by a salary. cut a zero off that number, buddy, this is about opportunity, and we need to be thrifty. highest level of education. autofill is glitching. here is an AI generated set of questions. what is your favorite part of our sexy, sexy company. how do you resolve conflict. will you get our company logo tattooed on your person. warning: while our CEO is guilty of wage theft, we will absolutely refuse to hire a nonviolent felon.

thank you for your interest at WEEBLIX. we actually already filled this position internally. we actually never had that posting. we actually needed you to have 9 years of experience and since you have 10 years we think it might be too many? we'll be texting you. we'll email you. we'll keep your resume. definitely absolutely we won't just completely ignore you. look at your phone, there's already a spam text from Bethany@stealyouridentity. they're hiring!

wait, did you get an interview? well that's special, aren't you lucky. out of 910 jobs you applied to, one answered, finally. and funny story! actually the position isn't exactly as advertised, we are looking for someone curious and dedicated. it's sort of more managerial. no, the pay doesn't change - you won't have any leadership title. now take this 90 minute assessment. in order to be a dog groomer, we need you to explain cell biology. in order to be a copyeditor, write a tiny dissertation about the dwindling supply of helium on the planet. answer our riddles three. great job! we just need to push this up to Tracy in HR who will send it to Rodney who is actually in charge. and then of course it's jay's decision and then greg will need to see you naked and if you survive you'll be given a drug test and a full anal examination.

and of course you'll be hungry this whole time, aren't you, months and months of the same shit. months of no insurance, no meds, no funding, barely able to afford the internet and the phone and the rent - all things you need in order to even apply for our thing. but do it again! do it again and again and again, until you flip inside out and turn into a being of pure dread!

you're not hired yet because you're lazy. there's over one million AI-generated hallucinated jobs in your area. don't worry. with zipruiter, hiring and firing is easier than ever. sign up. stay on-call.

in the meantime, little peon - why don't you just fucking suffer.

[sukumna]

┌─ .✦ HIS FAVORITE TYPE OF SEX part two

part two bc someone ask and i love this style of rambling about my favs.

꒰ part one | jjk version ꒱

✦ — Kenma Kozume, lazy, demanding sex. He’s the type to fuck you slow, dragging it out like he has all the time in the world, arms wrapped around you, keeping you in place like you belong to him. The type to pull you into his lap mid-game, barely sparing you a glance as he grinds up into you, muttering, “Be good and keep quiet.” He won’t stop playing, won’t even pretend to be fully focused on you—until you start squirming, whining, and then he’s flipping you over, making sure you know exactly who’s in control.

✦ — Kuroo Tetsurou, teasing, drawn-out sex. He’s the type to edge you until you’re crying, to drag things out just to hear you beg. The type to pin your wrists above your head, smirking as he murmurs, “Look at you. So desperate for me.” He loves overstimulation, fucking you until you’re a babbling mess, just to see how much you can take. The type to leave bite marks down your body just because he loves seeing the proof of what he did to you the next morning.

✦ — Kageyama Tobio, frustrated, intense sex. He’s the type to fuck you hard after a bad game, hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. The type to lose control, voice rough as he groans, “I can’t stop—feels too good.” He fucks with everything he has, like he’s got something to prove, like he needs to feel you break beneath him. He’s too embarrassed to tell you he wants to be praised, but if you grab his face, tell him how good he’s making you feel, he’ll fuck you even harder, desperate to hear more.

✦ — Hinata Shoyo, eager, can’t-get-enough sex. He’s the type to go again before you’ve even caught your breath, to fuck you so hard the bedframe rattles. The type to moan against your neck, whimpering, “Just one more, baby, I promise.” But it’s never just one more. He’s so overwhelmed by you, so caught up in how good you feel, that he never wants it to end. He’ll fuck you with the same reckless enthusiasm he throws into everything else, like you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

✦ — Tsukishima Kei, mean but calculated sex. He’s the type to tease you until you’re a wreck, to make you beg before he even thinks about giving you what you want. The type to fuck you slow and deep, smirking as you squirm, whispering, “What’s wrong? Isn’t this what you asked for?” He gets off on control, on watching you unravel under his touch. He’ll act like he doesn’t care, like he’s unaffected, but the second you cry for him—whimper, beg, tell him how much you need it—his resolve snaps, and suddenly, he’s fucking you senseless.

✦ — Akaashi Keiji, attentive, make-you-melt sex. He’s the type to hold your face as he fucks you, brushing kisses over your forehead, whispering soft praises. The type to make you come undone with just his words, murmuring, “You’re so beautiful like this.” He makes love to you, slow and deep, like he wants to feel every part of you. But the moment you pull his hair, scratch his back, whisper something filthy in his ear? He snaps—presses you into the mattress, holds your hips still, fucks you until all you can do is moan his name.

[millermouth]

Summary: You’ve never felt fully at home in your own skin, but that has never stopped Joel from showing you just how much he wants you. One night, you gather the courage to show him what you’ve been too afraid to share, and he shows you exactly what it means to be wanted, worshipped, and seen.

|| smut MDNI 18+, Joel is down bad in love, self conscious reader, no physical description (except 'soft belly') but reader is insecure of their body, no specific timeline, age gap mentioned but not specified, pinv, f!receiving oral, little bit of (f!receiving) ass play, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, soft!joel, he calls you like every pet name in the book. some aftercare || notes: joel miller in reading glasses hello? dont kill me for being a little bit of a cornball in here. joel is a cornball when he's in love. Yes I know I wrote the word pretty a lot! That’s the point!!! Inspired by this request

Joel’s bed became home long before you were ready to admit it.

It’s where you feel safest. It’s where he tugs you into his chest first thing in the morning, rough hand splayed over your back like it belongs there, murmuring something low and sleep-thick against your temple. It’s where you read curled into his side at night, him propped up against the headboard in that worn old Henley, eyes flicking lazily over the pages of whatever book you handed him, while yours is gripped a little tighter, the latest thriller mystery that has your heartbeat ticking up by the final chapters.

He had told you to stop reading them before bed once, but he didn’t really mean it. Not when you curled tighter into him, not when your hand slid across his stomach and stayed there gripping him like you needed to be close to something steady, something warm. Something like him.

Joel loves you like this. Warm and soft and pliant in his bed.

It’s one of his favorite places. Not just for pressing you down into the mattress and filling you, not just for the pretty, breathy sounds you make when you’re too far gone to think about what you look like or where his hands are. No—he loves the quiet moments, too. The ones where your limbs are tangled up with his, hair a mess, lips kiss-swollen, your skin still carrying the ghost of his touch.

And every now and then, when you’re asleep on his chest or laughing at something dumb he said, he still finds himself wondering how the hell he ended up with a girl like you.

You’re so much younger. So much softer. He doesn’t know what you see in a man like him—older, rougher, carved from all the years you haven’t had to carry yet. You could’ve had anyone. But you chose him. 

You’ve been together a few months now, and he still hasn’t wrapped his head around it. Still doesn’t know what he did to deserve your trust, your sweetness, your sharp quick wit when he least expects it.

He tried to keep his distance at first. Tried not to look too long when you smiled, not to follow the sound of your voice like a damn tether every time you were in the room. Told himself it wasn’t right. You weren’t for him. You were good. But you kept coming closer.

And once you started to pursue him—sweet and fearless and so goddamn certain—his resolve didn’t just crack. It collapsed.

The years between you didn’t matter to him anymore. The guilt didn’t matter. The voice in his head that told him to stop, that warned him he was too old, too jaded, too broken to ever deserve you—it all went quiet the second you looked at him like he was worth wanting.

He had to have you. To feel you, hear you, know you. So he gave in.

But there was still something there he didn’t quite understand, even now. Something that never quite leaves him.

Because every time he takes you to bed with the singular thought of getting you naked, of taking you until he gets his fill, until you’re trembling and wrecked and crying out his name—every single time, he sees it.

That flicker of hesitation.

He watches your shoulders shrink inward. Watches the way your hands move to cover your belly the second his fingers slip beneath your shirt. The way your breath stutters like you’re already bracing for something—even if it’s just his eyes.

You never say it out loud. You don’t have to.

And every time he settles over you, broad chest looming, palms sliding down your sides with reverent slowness as he lays you down on his bedspread, you ask him in that sweet, uncertain voice:

“Can we turn the light off?”

And Joel… hesitates.

Just for a second. Just long enough to take one more look at your face—flushed and perfect and lips swollen from letting him kiss them until they’re bruised. He always obliges. Always reaches over and clicks off the bedside lamp without a word, even if something in his chest aches as the room goes dark.

In the low moonlight, he can still see pieces of you. The softness of your belly. The curve of your thighs. The arch of your back when you start to melt beneath his touch. And he reveres it. All of it.

Worships you like you’re something holy.

But even in the dark, he notices everything.

The way your breath hitches when he kisses down your body—not with pleasure, but with discomfort. The subtle tension in your limbs when he trails his lips past your ribs. The way you squirm when his mouth lingers at the tender skin between your stomach and mound. Not because it’s too much. But because you don’t want to be seen.

And it kills him a little every time.

Because he wants to see you. All of you. Wants you to know that there is not a single inch of your body he doesn’t adore.

But still, like many nights before, he obliges you tonight and reaches over to turn out the light at your request.

The room falls into darkness.

Joel wakes to the warm and golden light of the morning, the kind where sunlight filters through the blinds in soft, slatted beams, pooling across the hardwood floor. The kind where the world outside feels far away, like it can wait a little longer while the house stays quiet.

His mind fully catches up to the scent of coffee and the soft creak of floorboards.

The bed is empty beside him, blankets still warm, your pillow carrying the shape of your head. He rubs the sleep from his face and swings his legs over the edge, the weight of last night still humming low in his chest.

He finds you in the kitchen.

You’re at the counter, barefoot, wearing nothing but his t-shirt—one of those older ones, soft and stretched out, the hem barely brushing the tops of your thighs. Your hair’s a little messy, skin still marked in places from where his mouth had worshipped you in the hours of the night.

You’re so focused on pouring coffee into your favorite mug—the pink one with the little chip at the rim, just big enough to catch your lip if you’re not careful—that you don’t hear him come in.

He steps in behind you, silent as ever, warmth radiating off his chest before you even feel his hands.

One arm slips around your waist, the other gliding up beneath the hem of the shirt you’re wearing—his shirt—until his hand splays flat across your stomach. His lips find your neck a second later, soft and unhurried, brushing along your skin as he breathes you in.

You stiffen, just a little. It’s not resistance, you could never resist him, but your body goes still beneath his touch, that automatic flicker of self-consciousness rising to the surface like it always does when he touches you in the daylight.

Still, you don’t move away.

Joel’s voice is low and rough in your ear, all gravel and morning warmth, “‘Mornin’, darlin’.”

You smile, small, a little sheepish, but it’s there. “Morning.”

His hand drops lower, fingers brushing the curve of your hip, then sliding up again, slow and lazy. His other arm tightens around your front, keeping you pulled against him as his lips trail from your neck to your cheek.

“Joel—” you murmur, half a protest, half a laugh, squirming under his touch.

“You look so pretty like this,” he says, voice thicker now, rougher with sleep and want. “So sexy in my shirt, honey.”

You go quiet. Not because you don’t like it. But because it still hits that spot—the part of you that flinches at being seen. You press your lips together, focus on the coffee in your hand, as if the words might disappear if you just don’t look at him.

But Joel sees it. Feels the shift. The way you tense ever so slightly when he calls you nice things. Like the words don’t fit, not yet. Like you still haven’t figured out how to wear them.

He kisses your cheek again, slower this time.

“I mean it,” he adds softly.

You nod once, a breath catching in your chest before you murmur, “I know.”

Joel leans in and kisses the back of your head, just behind your ear, then murmurs against your skin, “Put the coffee down for a second.”

You glance over your shoulder, suspicious but smiling. “Why?”

“Just do it, baby.”

With a soft sigh, you set the mug back on the counter. Before you can ask again, he’s turning you in his arms, hands firm but careful on your hips and over the shirt, as he spins you to face him.

He steps in close, real close, until the backs of your thighs press against the cabinets and his hands come up to cradle your face. Big, warm palms on your cheeks, thumbs brushing the softness there like he’s memorizing the way you feel under his touch. 

Then his hands squish your cheeks between his hands, just enough to puff your lips out like a fish.

Your brows furrow as you try in vain to pull away. “Joel—!”

“Say it,” he says, dead serious despite the ridiculous hold he has on your face.

Your eyebrows knit further as you still. “Say what?”

He smirks, dipping his head until your noses bump. “Say: I’m pretty.”

You groan, giggling despite yourself as you try to wiggle free. “Joel, oh my god—”

He holds on, pressing exaggerated kisses to your squished face—your cheek, your forehead, your nose and your puffed out top lip. “Say it. Go on. I’ll wait all day.”

“Fine!” you huff, lips barely moving from the way he’s still holding your face. “I’m pretty.”

He grins, loosening his hold just enough so you can speak properly, though he keeps his hands right where they are. “Didn’t hear you.”

“I’m pretty,” you repeat, cheeks heating as you say it, soft and unsure but not sarcastic. Not deflecting.

Joel beams, eyes crinkling at the corners, kissing your lips as he loosens his hold on your face. “Damn right you are. Prettiest girl I ever saw.”

You can’t help but smile now, wide and a little bashful. You duck your head, but he catches you again, presses a kiss to your lips again, sweet and unhurried.

And when he backs away and you finally reach for your coffee again, cheeks still warm, he’s watching you like he’s already counting the seconds until he gets to do it all over again.

That night starts like any other night.

Late, quiet, the house dipped in soft shadows. The windows are cracked just enough to let in the evening breeze, the hum of cicadas drifting in with the warm air. Joel’s in bed already, reading glasses sliding down his nose, thumbing through the same page of his book he’s read three times without taking in a single word.

He’s waiting for you to join him, your book is still closed on the side table. You’d excused yourself to the bathroom before you could even cuddle up in bed beside him. You had said you needed two minutes.

That was fifteen minutes ago.

He figures you’re brushing your teeth. Or lost in one of your little bedtime routines—rearranging things on the counter or doing your 10 step nightly skincare. He doesn’t mind. He’s gotten used to your rhythms the more you stayed over. Grown to love them, even.

But then he hears the bedroom door open, and when he glances up, expecting to see you in one of your usual pajamas, his breath catches. You’re not wearing one of his big T-shirts or those soft cotton sets you like so much.

You’re standing in the doorway in white lace, delicate and sheer and almost ethereal in the low glow of the lamp light.

It damn near knocks the air out of him.

He forgets all about the book in his lap—doesn’t even feel it fall to the mattress as his gaze rakes over you, slow and disbelieving. His jaw goes slack as he removes his glasses and sets them on the side table.

The bra—he doesn’t know what it’s called, not that it matters—looks daintier and more delicate than anything he’s ever seen in his goddamn life. Feminine in a way that hits him right in the chest. It wraps around you like it was made for your body, hugging your curves in all the right places. The straps are thin, dipping into the softness of your shoulders, and the lace cups give just enough to let his imagination blur with what’s already in front of him.

The matching bottoms sit high on your hips, scalloped lace tracing the tops of your thighs, giving him a perfect view of the skin he’s only ever touched in the dark.

Your hair is pulled back behind your shoulders—intentionally, he thinks, like you wanted him to have the full view.

Your lip is tucked under your top teeth, and your eyes flick down for a second, uncertain—then back up again.

But then you smile.

Shy, but proud. Like you’re showing him something precious and a little terrifying. Like you finally believe, even just a little, that he might actually mean every word he’s ever said about you.

Joel shifts to the edge of the bed, jaw tight with restraint as he beckons you to him. Slowly, you make your way over, and he soaks in the look of your thighs as you move, the way your body is begging to be marked and taken. His hands curl against his own thighs like he’s afraid to touch you too fast, too hard, and shatter the moment.

But when you move to stand between his knees, and he lifts his eyes up to meet yours, you don’t flinch.

He lets out a long, shaky breath. Then his hands lift slowly, reverently, palms brushing along the outside of your thighs, up to your hips.

His voice is low, almost reverent. “Christ, baby… look at you.”

You let out a nervous laugh, eyes dropping for a second—but you don’t cover yourself. Don’t twist away like you usually do. You stay right there, between his knees, close enough for him to smell the soft scent of your lotion and whatever little perfume you’d put on just for him.

Joel lifts his hands, slow and sure, and holds your hips, warm, steady, splayed wide like he wants to cover all of you. His thumb strokes gently over your skin where the lace ends, just above your hipbone.

“You did this for me?” he murmurs, looking up at you.

You nod once, eyes still shy but glowing with something soft. “I wanted to. I…I know I usually…”

“I know,” he says quietly, thumbs stroking your skin under his touch. “Don’t gotta explain nothin’ to me.”

His voice is gentle, but there’s something else beneath it now. Thicker. Hotter. Like he’s barely keeping a lid on what he really wants to say.

You bite your lip again, tucking it under your top teeth as you gauge his reaction. Joel leans in, eyes never leaving yours, and presses a kiss between the valley of your breasts—slow, open-mouthed, just wet enough to make your breath stutter.

You exhale, body already leaning into him, melting under the heat of his mouth, the drag of his stubble, the way his hands are rubbing slow circles along your thighs. His fingers toy with the hem of the lace between your legs, pinching the delicate fabric between them, like he can’t decide whether to rip it off or worship it.

“You know what this does to me? What you do to me, angel?” he rasps, voice rough now, filthy and unfiltered. “You got me starin’ like a damn animal. Don’t even know where I wanna taste first.”

He kisses the underside of your breast, and even though it's covered by lace, he bites softly at the curve, tongue soothing the mark he leaves behind. His hands move to grip your ass tightly now, pulling you closer, positioning so your stomach and hips are flush against his chest.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby. Every time I think I’ve seen all of you, you go and give me this?”

His eyes flick up, hungry and reverent. You squirm, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips, but Joel doesn't back off. He presses another kiss to your stomach, then just above your belly button, murmuring into your skin.

“Timid little thing—but deep down you like it, don’t you? Like when Daddy talks like this?”

Your thighs twitch under his hands and you nod.

He grins, feral and soft all at once. His hands slide up your sides, palms hot and steady against your ribs, thumbs brushing the edge of lace as his mouth follows—slow, open-mouthed kisses trailing higher, tongue flicking against the fabric covering your breasts. His tongue pokes out over the lace of your bodice right where your nipple would be, teeth grazing over the hidden but pebbled skin. Your jaw falls open as you watch him.

“Goddamn,” he mutters, breath catching against your sternum. “You wore this just to drive me crazy, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer.

One hand lifts, fingers tugging gently at the strap of your bralette, sliding it down your shoulder. Then the other. His movements are careful, almost reverent, as he peels the lace down and away, baring you inch by inch.

And when your breasts spill free, his breath catches audibly.

“Jesus Christ.”

He sits back just far enough to look. Just for a moment. Just to see you.

“Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,” he murmurs, thick with awe and heat. He brings his hands up to grip the flesh of your breasts, kneading them together, “Bet you don’t even know what you do to me, baby.”

You bite your lip again, that flicker of shyness still dancing across your face—like you have to physically restrain yourself from trying to cover the revealed skin. But no. Not this time.

Joel leans in and licks a slow stripe over one nipple, making you gasp. He drags his tongue in a lazy circle, then sucks it into his mouth, groaning low in his throat like he’s tasting heaven.

You whimper, your hands flying to his shoulders, fingers gripping him as your back arches on instinct.

“That’s it,” he growls, pulling back just to press a kiss between your breasts before taking the other into his mouth, this time sucking harder, leaving it damp and peaked from his tongue. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna hear every sound you make when I touch you like this.”

Your hips roll against him, thighs trembling as you stand between his legs.

“Sensitive little thing,” Joel mumbles against your skin. “Just needed someone to show you how fuckin’ perfect you are.”

He kisses lower, down the underside of your breast, then back up again, licking softly, sucking just enough to leave the faintest mark.

“M’gonna take good care of you tonight, baby,” he breathes, dragging his mouth back to your nipple. “Gonna take my timeand take every fuckin’ inch of this sweet body. You gonna let me?”

You nod, breathless, voice caught somewhere in your throat,“Y-yeah.”

Joel looks up, eyes blazing, lips slick from kissing you.

“‘Yeah’, what? Tell me, honey.”

Your begin to squirm as you tell him, “I want you to, Daddy. Please.”

Joel groans like it physically knocks the air out of him. His hands trail back down your sides, slow and reverent, fingertips grazing the lace waistband still hugging your hips.

“You’re killin’ me, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth lower. 

He kisses down your stomach, tongue peeking out to trace the little dip of your navel, his hands smoothing down your hips and behind to cup your ass again, fingers squeezing tight. The lace panties are all that remain, soft and delicate, slightly damp already with your arousal. He noses along the waistband, breathing you in.

“Fuck, you smell so good,” he growls, teeth catching gently at the fabric. “Bet you taste even better.”

Your hands slide into his hair, tugging gently as he tongues over the lace, not pulling it down yet—just feeling you through it, his mouth wet and hungry over your hips and tummy.

You moan, your hips grinding against him again as he teases you, his one hand reaching down to drag his fingers over your clothed mound, the slick of your folds soaking through. He groans at the feeling before pulling back with a sharp exhale, looking up at you with wild eyes.

“On the bed. Hands and knees. Now.”

You blink, heart leaping, but you don’t hesitate. You scramble onto the mattress, crawling forward on shaky limbs until you’re positioned right where he wants you—on all fours, back arched, breath quick and needy.

Joel groans behind you at the sight, pulling his shirt over his head before dragging a hand up your spine, slow and heavy.

“Goddamn, baby. Look at you.”

Once he’s climbed onto the bed behind you, spreading your knees a little wider, he kneads at your ass with both hands, reverent and gentle. He settles his body lower, shifting on the bed until his face is level with your center. He drags his thumbs along the backs of your thighs, spreading them a little wider, groaning low when he sees how soaked the lace of your panties is—slick and clinging to your folds, a perfect puffy outline of everything he’s about to taste.

“Look at this,” he breathes, like it’s something sacred. “Fuckin’ drenched for me.”

You gasp when you feel his mouth again—not on your skin, but over the lace. A slow, deliberate kiss right to the center of you, hot and wet and perfectly placed. His lips part, tongue nudging against the fabric, teasing your clit through the sheer barrier.

It’s maddening.

He hums, the vibration making your hips twitch.

“Fuck, baby… I could spend all night like this. Kissin’ you through these pretty little panties. Smellin’ you. Feelin’ how worked up you are for me.” He nuzzles in deeper, breathing hot against you, licking a wide, slow stripe up the center of your heat—through the lace—then mouthing at it, sloppy and wet, soaking it even more.

You sob, spine arching, thighs quivering where they try to stay upright. Joel groans against you.

“Can’t believe you wore this just for me,” he mutters, dragging his tongue back down. “So fuckin’ soft. So sweet. Pussy’s beggin’ for it, ain’t she?”

You nod frantically, already breathless. “Yes—God, Joel, please—”

He chuckles darkly, biting gently at the fabric. “Please what, baby?”

“Take them off,” you gasp. “Please—need you.”

Joel pulls back, and you feel the shift in the air before you feel his hands—rough palms curling under the waistband of your panties, fingers brushing the skin of your hips as he peels the lace down slow. Agonizingly slow.

“Anything for my girl,” he says.

Joel’s broad, warm hands palm at your ass, kneading every inch as he situates himself behind you. He dips lower, mouth pressing open-mouthed kisses into the flesh of your left cheek, then the right, before his teeth sink down into the soft meat.

You yelp, hips jerking at the sharp nip.

“Prettiest noises too,” he murmurs into your skin, kissing the sensitive mark he left behind. His hands spread your cheeks, thumbs firm as they open you up for him—and when you peek over your shoulder, you find his eyes locked on your center, gaze dark and fixated, the pupils blown wide.

When he catches you looking, his eyes flick up to meet yours.

“She’s flirtin’ with me,” he says, grinning like the devil.

Your face burns, and you let your head drop into the pillows, hiding from the embarrassment that curls through your belly—hot and helpless, tangled with molten want.

Joel’s lips find your skin again, slower now, more reverent as he holds you open. His tongue drags between your cheeks, a deep, teasing stroke that makes your whole body tense. He kisses your slick folds with a wet, lewd sound that makes you gasp.

He hums, low and satisfied, then laps at your dripping arousal like it’s his first taste of water in weeks.

“And the prettiest pussy,” he rasps, lips brushing your folds. “You know that, darlin’?”

You moan, unable to answer, as his tongue pushes deeper. He flattens it and licks slow, wide strokes up your slit before circling your clit. His nose bumps your entrance, barely prodding, teasing you as his tongue works your clit in tight, filthy circles.

Your hips start moving without your permission, grinding into his face, seeking more.

Joel groans like you’re his favorite meal, tongue flattening again, letting you push into him.

“That’s it, baby,” he coos, eyes fluttering shut. “Ride my face.”

You mewl, your body bucking, wild and desperate, grinding into him like a goddamn bronco at the fair. Your walls flutter, your core pulsing with pressure as it builds, and builds, and builds.

Your thighs begin to shake.

Joel’s grip on you tightens as he takes over, tongue working your clit with expert flicks, fast and relentless.

The pressure in your belly snaps like a pulled cord, your spine arching as your orgasm crashes over you. You cry out, pushing yourself deeper into his mouth as you come, loud and wrecked, your fingers gripping the sheets.

Joel moans into you like he’s the one coming undone, tongue never faltering, coaxing every last wave of pleasure from your trembling body. Even as you start to come down, breath catching in your throat, he doesn’t stop. He just slows, letting you twitch and gasp and shake through it.

Then, you feel it. The warm, wet pressure of his tongue pushing up past your folds, over the skin between, then circling your tighter hole. You jump at the intrusion, a sharp gasp breaking from your lips—but the haze of your orgasm makes your body soft, receptive, already melting for him.

You whimper, hips twitching. Joel just groans again, closing his lips around your sensitive rim, suckling gently.

“F–fuck,” you whisper, unable to think, to move, to breathe.

He licks you there once more before planting slow, open-mouthed kisses up your spine, up to the small of your back, your shoulder blades, and finally your neck.

Then he’s curling over you, beard scratchy against your skin, his lips brushing your cheek.

“Turn around,” he whispers, voice low and rough, "Wanna see your face when I stuff you full a'me,"

You can’t help but giggle at the tickle of his scruff against your neck, still dazed, still boneless, but do as you’re told—twisting under him until you’re on your back, staring up at him.

Joel’s eyes, though dark with hunger, hold something else too. Something deep and aching. Something sweet.

And then, with that same steady tone he uses when talking patrol routes or fixing fences, he says, “Now. Here’s what’s gonna happen, sweetheart.”

His lips brush your jaw, then your ear.

“I’m gonna fill you up so deep, fuck you so full of my cock, my cum, me, that when you look in the mirror tomorrow, all you’re gonna see is how fuckin’ beautiful you are—‘cause you’ll still be wearin’ what I did to you tonight.”

Your chest heaves, the words settling deep in your stomach, curling there like heat and honey.

“Joel, I—” you start to say, only to gasp when you feel the hot, thick head of his cock nudge at your entrance.

“You feel this, honey?” he murmurs, pulling back to look down between you, voice rough and reverent. “Feel how bad he wants you? How bad I want you?”

You nod, gripping his forearms tight, your thighs falling open even wider for him.

He notches just the bulbous tip inside you and hisses at the wet heat.

“Jesus,” you breathe. “I feel it, Joel, I—I… pleasepleaseplease—”

“I know, angel, I know,” he pants, his thumb stroking your inner thigh, grounding you. “Now I wanna hear you say it.”

Your brain lags, thick with need, swimming in lust and love and the ache to just feel him.

“W-what?”

Joel watches you, eyes burning into yours.

“Say, ‘I’m pretty, Daddy.’”

Your whole body flushes, lips parted in disbelief, already whining at the way he just knows how to unravel you.

You groan wordlessly, bringing your hands to your face to hide. He is so on your shit list for this.

Joel chuckles darkly, pushing in another inch, and you whimper behind your hands.

“I’m waitin’, darlin'.”

You squirm under him, thighs trembling, skin turning hotter and hotter by the second. Every nerve in your body is screaming for him to move, to fill you, to do something.

But Joel waits. He always waits—until you give in, until he gets what he wants.

You lift your hands from your face slowly, eyes hazy, cheeks heated, lips parted. He’s watching you like a man possessed, one hand gripping your thigh, the other wrapped around his pulsing member with agonizing patience.

“M’pretty,” you whisper.

Joel’s brow arches, lips curling, “Not quite, sweetheart. You know how I want it.”

Your chest heaves. Your pussy clenches around just the tip of him, and even though you see the twitch in his jaw, he still waits.

So you gather your courage, heart pounding in your throat: “I’m pretty, Daddy.”

Joel’s smile breaks across his face, so bright and full of something so tender it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. It almost pulls you out of the heat of it, the haze of arousal, until your core clenches and he sinks into you just a little deeper.

You gasp, the stretch sharp and perfect.

He leans down slowly, hands braced in the pillows beside your head, lowering himself onto his forearms until his chest is flush with yours, until there’s no space left between your bodies.

He’s still not fully sheathed in you.

“Again.” 

“I… I’m pretty, Daddy,” you breathe, voice shaky as your pussy tries to adjust around the thick stretch of him.

“The prettiest,” he nods, and his lips mold to yours as he finally pushes all the way in. Your mouth falls open with a gasp, the sound swallowed by his tongue slipping between your lips, hot and hungry, as he bottoms out. His balls press firmly against the slick, wet crevice of your ass, and the mess between your thighs is obscene—your arousal dripping, sticky and hot, soaking the sheets beneath you.

Joel groans into your mouth, loud and wrecked like its been trapped in his chest for hours. His hands come up to cradle your head, keeping you right there beneath him as he begins to move, slow at first, pulling out a few inches before rolling back in, the full weight of him rocking your body with every deep thrust.

“Shit,” he mutters, voice low and reverent. “Pussy’s so damn tight.”

He pulls out slowly again, then drives back in hard, enough to jolt you up the bed, the sound of it lewd and perfect. His brow furrows, eyes fluttered shut as he focuses on the way your walls cling to him.

“Fuckkkk,” you mewl as he continues sawing into you, filling you and stretching you around him, buried to the hilt.

Joel grins, feral and hungry, sweat starting to bead at his brow.

“Sound even prettier when you take my cock.”

He sets a rhythm—deep, grinding thrusts that hit all the way up, filling you to the brim. His body covers yours, chest brushing your nipples, beard scratching your throat as he nips and kisses every inch he can reach.

“Been thinkin’ about this for so long, baby” he grits out between thrusts, hips slapping against yours. “The way you’re always hidin’ yourself from me, coverin’ up like you’re not the most beautiful fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your hands claw at his back, your legs wrapping around his waist, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

“I got you, honey,” Joel pants, head dropping to your neck as his arms wrap around you, pulling you into him even tighter. “And you’re gonna start seein’ it for yourself,” 

His pace picks up, rougher now, slamming into you with the kind of need that’s barely human.

“Gonna fuck you so full you forget every goddamn lie you ever told yourself in a mirror. Gonna make sure the only thing you remember is me—how you sounded, how you looked, when I wrecked this perfect little body.”

You’re gasping, whimpering, shaking beneath him, stars flashing behind your eyes as he pounds into you like he’s never going to stop.

“That’s it, baby. You take it,” he growls. “Take my cock so good, like the good girl you are for me. Fuckin’ made for me.”

“Joel—” you cry, voice breaking.

He lifts his head, eyes wild and tender all at once.

“Say it again, sweetheart. Tell Daddy how pretty you are.”

“I—I’m pretty,” you choke out. “I’m—fuck, I’m so pretty, Daddy—”

He loses it.

His hand slides under your thigh, hooking it up, opening you wider, deeper. His hips slam into you harder now, the rhythm filthy, brutal, perfect.

“I know, baby. I know. Look at you. My good girl, look so beautiful takin’ it so fuckin’ well.”

His other hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, guiding you forward as he sits back—craning your head up so you can look down, see exactly where you’re joined. 

Your mind barely registers the softness of your belly, too focused on the thick stretch of him splitting you open, the obscene way you take every inch. You both watch as he drives into you, slick and deep and devastating, a ring of your last orgasm glistening around his cock. The pressure builds again, white-hot and unbearable.

And Joel knows—he feels it in the way you clench, the way your voice goes high and desperate, the way your hands grip him like you’ll fall apart if you let go.

“You gonna come for me again, sweet girl?” he pants, fucking you into the mattress. “Gonna let Daddy feel you pulse around his cock?”

“Yesyesyes—Joel, I—please—”

“That’s it,” he snarls, “give it to me.”

You shatter.

Your orgasm crashes through you with a scream as he releases your neck, letting you arch your back, trembling as you milk his cock with spasms so tight it makes Joel curse, a broken sound from deep in his chest.

And then he’s coming, hips stuttering, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you, filling you just like he promised. His voice breaks on your name as he grinds through it, hands gripping you enough to leave bruises, breathing ragged.

Neither of you move for a long moment. Just the sound of your breathing, tangled and uneven. His chest heaving against yours. Your legs shaking around his waist.

His hand slides up, cradles the side of your face. His thumb brushes gently beneath your eye, even though you’re not crying—but something about the touch makes you want to. Makes your throat ache.

“Hey,” he whispers, voice all gravel and reverence. “You okay?”

You nod, eyes still fluttered shut, heart pounding. “Y-yeah.”

Joel presses a soft kiss to your lips—barely a touch, like he’s afraid of ruining you more than he already has. Then another, and another, until you're giggling quietly beneath him, too dazed to hold it in.

He smiles, the kind of smile he doesn’t show anyone else. The kind that barely reaches his eyes, because he’s still looking at you like you’re a dream that might disappear if he blinks too hard.

“Look at me, baby.”

You do. You always do when he asks.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joel murmurs, voice low and rough with what sounds almost like awe. “You know that?”

The words hit you deeper than they should. You suck in a sharp breath, trying to even out your breathing, but your lungs don’t cooperate. Your eyes dart away, suddenly misting and too overwhelmed by the intensity in his gaze—by the sincerity written all over his face. It's too much. Too close. Too real.

But Joel’s hand is already there, catching your chin gently, tilting your face back toward his. His thumb grazes the edge of your jaw, soft and steady.

“No,” he says, barely more than a whisper. “Don’t do that. Not tonight. Not after everything you just gave me.”

Your chest stutters, emotion building so fast and so sharp you feel like you might spill over with it. Your fingers twitch against his back before finally settling, drifting across his damp skin in slow, absent circles. You take deep, calming breaths to settle yourself. Breathe in, breathe out.

He’s still inside you, still heavy over you, like neither of you are ready to let go just yet. Your limbs are tangled, the air still thick with sweat and heat and something quieter—something softer.

The room is quiet now, the kind of quiet that doesn’t feel empty. Just your shared breaths, slow and unsteady. The low thump of his heart where his chest presses to yours.

Joel shifts only slightly, just enough to press a kiss to your cheek. Then another to your jaw. Then your temple. The way he moves is unhurried, like he’s memorizing you. Like he’s kissing more than just skin—like he’s kissing the pieces of you he’s afraid to speak out loud.

It makes your chest ache.

“You’re being so sweet,” you whisper, throat tight almost like it’s a secret.

His lips hover at your lips, pressing gently but not fully,  “I don’t know how not to be,” he says softly. “Not with you.”

You close your eyes, pressing your face into the curve of his neck. His scent wraps around you—salt and skin and something warm and comforting that’s just him. The warmth blooms under your skin again, curling around your ribs, spreading down your spine.

“I love you.” he says, like it’s always been there, waiting. Like it’s not a confession so much as a truth that finally found its way out.

Your breath catches. Not from fear, not from panic, but from the sheer weight of it. The gravity. The sound of those words, spoken into the low light of the room while he's still buried inside you, holding you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

Your eyes flutter open. You don’t move. Not yet.

Joel doesn’t either. But his voice dips low, softer now. A hint of uncertainty laces the edges. “Too much?”

You shake your head instantly, and your hands rise to cradle his face, looking up at him, fingertips brushing his temples like you need to anchor both of you in this moment.

“No,” you whisper, a tear finally escaping your eye. “No, not too much.”

Your fingers slide into his hair, tugging gently as you pull him down and press your lips to his. And when you pull back, your words are trembling but sure.

“I love you too.”

He exhales like he’s been holding that breath for years.Then he kisses you—slow and deep and home, his mouth moving against yours like he’s sealing the promise between your bodies.

taglist: @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal, @anxiousscribbling

[rafesangelita]

♡ bitchy!kook!reader finally lets rafe fuck..

warnings: making out, slight degradation, teasing, fingering, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, praise, multiple orgasms

a/n: thank you to the anon who sent in this prompt request for my follower celly! i accidentally deleted your ask ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

you didn’t expect things to get this heated, this fast, both you and rafe messily kissing each other in the darkness of his room, his playlist playing softly in the background while his hands didn’t leave a single inch of you untouched. you could feel his hard-on poking you through the thin lace material of your panties, your resolve crumbling more and more as you let yourself get lost in the taste of him, your desire to surrender and give into his advances only growing with each filthy sentence he spoke to you. “remember all that tough shit you were talking? ‘saying i couldn’t handle all of this but here you are fucking dripping for it..”

you whimpered, your head rolling to the side as rafe planted his lips on your neck, his hand snaking down underneath the hem of your skirt until his fingers slipped below the waistband of your underwear. “you know i can make you feel so good, baby, just give me the word..” he whispered, his teeth lightly grazing your flesh just as his fingertips dipped between your folds, a curse falling from his mouth as your slick allowed him to stroke your clit with ease. you gasped softly, your nails digging into his skin as he rubbed hard, firm circles around your sensitive bud. “come on..” rafe encouraged you quietly, “let me fuck you.”

you sighed softly, your eyes fluttering closed as he moved his lips down from your neck to your chest, his digits continuing their ministrations on your needy cunt. you couldn’t believe you were finally giving into him, all the months of begging and pleading with you to let him have his way all coming to an end once you nodded, your boyfriend cursing under his breath as he tried to his best to keep his composure. rafe’s fingers prodded at your entrance, the sensation making you panic before you stopped him. “wait—!” you panted, slightly embarrassed, “i’ve never done this before, rafe..”

upon hearing your words, rafe used his free hand to grip the back of your neck, his gaze scanning down your pretty face as his chest rose and fell in disbelief. your usual bitchy expression was long gone and was now replaced with what looked like intimidation, your brow etched with worry as you watched the realization dawn on him. “holy shit—” rafe laughed, “you’re a virgin?” you looked away from him, avoiding his burning gaze. “don’t be weird about it, you’re not special.” rafe scoffed, his jaw clenching as he pushed his fingertips into you. crying out, your nails raked down his toned chest, the burning tension making you wince.

“these are just my fingers, babe.. if you can barely handle this, just imagine when i’m fucking you balls deep.” the thought alone made you shudder, a shiver running down your spine as rafe began filling you up with digits, your walls fluttering around the welcomed intrusion. “gentle, please..” you whimpered, a hiss leaving your lips when he pulled at the roots of your hair, forcing you to look at him as he started thumbing at your clit. “gentle?” he laughed, “why would i be gentle with you? you’re not special.” rafe used your words from earlier against you before curling his digits and hitting that soft spot inside of you, your head falling onto his shoulder at the added stimulation.

“m’gonna make you cum all over my fingers, ��get you all nice and stretched out before i fuck you stupid, yeah?” you whined, wrapping your arms around his neck as your breathing grew sporadic, the heavy tension in your core making your limbs feel like jelly. “fuckkk!” you squealed, burying your face in his chest as you felt the sudden snap in your tummy, your pussy squeezing around rafe’s digits like a vice. you saw stars behind the backs of your eyes, your thighs trembling as he held your hips down to keep you from moving away from him. “r-rafe, that’s enough,” you huffed, “s’too much now!” considering you were about to let him pop your cherry, he decided he’d give your poor cunt a break.

rafe didn’t give you nearly enough time to recover before he had your wrists pinned between tits, your ankles sitting prettily on his shoulders as he tapped the aching tip of his cock against your clit. “i’m never gonna let you live this down,” rafe teased, slipping only the tip in to watch the way you took your bottom lip between your teeth, “no one’s ever gonna fuck you like this.” was the last thing he said before thrusting into you without warning, a half scream emitting from your throat as rafe groaned, his eyes glued to where you two were connected.

“oh my god, you’re fucking gorgeous—” rafe said through gritted teeth, admiring every detail of you he hadn’t seen before tonight. you were rendered speechless, any kind of protests or smart remarks dying on the tip of your tongue as the ache between your legs dulled and melted into pure unadulterated pleasure. from pained whimpers to pleading cries, rafe’s lips found yours as he fucked into you with an unforgiving force. nipping his bottom lip, rafe hissed, cursing under his breath as you managed to get your hands out of his grip.

“not so scared anymore?” he teased, his words making you roll your eyes. “shut up, rafe— oh!” your back arched up into his chest when he changed his momentum, the long strokes of his hips making you hiccup. “tell me to shut up again.” you just about lost it when you felt his thumb return to your clit, your palms pushing against his stomach at the overwhelming pressure building up in your tummy. you hated how easy it was for him to take control of you in this moment, but god, you felt too good to care. not daring to say another word, your eyes screwed shut as rafe pushed you over the edge, his own orgasm causing his hips to stutter.

burying himself as deep as he could, you pulled rafe close as he emptied himself inside of you, your toes curling as he filled you up with his seed, the thick, hot ropes of cum painting your insides while you cried at the overwhelming feeling of your high. you felt like your head was in the clouds, your vision growing hazy as you blinked in slow motion up at the high ceiling. with rafe’s weight on top of you like this, and his moans in your ear, you reveled in the new intimacy that you two hadn’t yet shared with each other, both of you holding onto each other as your climaxes subsided.

still nestled inside of you, rafe collapsed on top of you, your hands wasting no time in moving his bangs out of his face, your heart fluttering in your chest at the sight of the smug grin on his lips. “don’t you dare say anything—”

“i can’t believe you actually let me hit.” rafe sighed, leaving a trail of kisses along your collarbone. you shook your head, a soft laugh leaving your lips as you twirled the ends of his hair with your perfectly manicured fingers. “act up and you’re not getting sex for as long as you piss me off.” you threatened, your words making his eyebrows raise. “you don’t have to worry about me acting up after this.. i can’t go on without it now.” you rolled your eyes at his dramatics before he took your lips in a kiss. “i hope you’re not fucked out just yet, i got some more rounds in me.”

[reesestshirt]

When I was in middle school, I tried to learn how to crochet. I knew how to knit already, so I figured ‘how hard could it be’ and used my Christmas money on a brand new set of aluminum hooks and a how-to book.

To say it was difficult was an understatement. I spent hours pouring over my book, begging to gain some inkling of understanding from what felt like incomprehensible runes. My reward? One lopsided trapezoid of lumpy fabric and a resolve to never pick up a crochet hook again.

And so life went on, I finished middle school and high school without giving crochet so much as a second glance. In college, I read about how crochet couldn’t be replicated by a machine, it was unique in a way that knitting and many other fiber arts weren’t.

For Christmas last year, my girlfriend gave me what I now consider to be my most prized possession: a crocheted plush of my favorite pokemon. I raved over her skills and, since she never learned how to knit, we decided to have a yarn date at some point and teach each other our respective skills.

We never did get around to that yarn date. She passed a few months after our declaration, leaving me to inherit what was left of her yarn.

Nearly a decade after my initial attempt, I got ready for the toughest battle of my life. My weapons? One skein of yarn, a YouTube video, and a crochet hook that I had somehow never gotten rid of.

I slowly made my way through the video, redoing my work a couple times until I was satisfied with my product: a small, slightly misshapen rectangle.

I looked at my pristinely-made pokemon plush with hope for the first time in months and thought to myself, ‘maybe crocheting isn’t the hardest thing in the world, maybe you were just 12.’

Maybe this isn’t the hardest thing in the world. Maybe I’m just 21.

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Night She Finally Gave In | LN4

🎀 summary ━━━━━━━ For eight months, Y/N teased, denied, and kept Lando chasing—but he never gave up. Until one night she finally gives in. 

🎀 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

🎀 word count ━━━━━━━ 7.9k

🎀 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), dirty talk, teasing

Based on this request.

The persistent hum of the city pulsed against Y/N’s ears as she stepped off the crowded London sidewalk and into a cozy Shoreditch lounge. Music throbbed under low lighting, and the place was already bustling with familiar chatter. Tonight, she was meeting Pietra and Max for casual drinks, but she knew one other person would be there—someone who’d been on her mind more than she cared to admit. Lando Norris.

She spotted Pietra first, her friend waving her over from a corner booth. Max, Pietra’s boyfriend and Lando’s best friend, grinned in greeting. Y/N slid into the booth and unwrapped her scarf, letting the warmth of the lounge soak into her. Before she could even settle, an electric awareness sparked at the base of her spine. She sensed him near before she actually saw him. And sure enough, there he was—leaning against the bar, exchanging an easy laugh with the bartender, but already casting sideways glances in her direction.

For over half a year, Lando had chased after her with single-minded obsession. The moment they’d been introduced—eight months ago at a friend’s barbecue—he’d made his interest painfully obvious. Texts at odd hours, random calls whenever he was in London, spontaneous outings with their mutual friends that always ended with him trying to corner her for a private moment.

She found it thrilling at first. She teased him mercilessly, indulging in the attention of someone so persistent and quite obviously smitten. She’d let him buy her drinks, whisper silly compliments that made her cheeks warm, and flirt back just enough to get his heart pounding. But any time he tried to escalate—from a lean-in kiss to a direct request for a date—she’d reject him. Gently, but firmly. Over and over.

Why did she do it? Maybe she wanted to protect herself from the potential heartbreak of dating a man adored by millions. Or maybe she reveled in the power of knowing that someone as high-profile as Lando Norris was practically wrapped around her finger. Whatever the reason, the game had dragged on for months, and he never gave up. If anything, each rejection only seemed to strengthen his resolve.

And how he persevered. In those eight months, she had watched him run himself ragged trying to impress her. No matter what she threw at him—a dismissive laugh, a pointed change of subject, a half-hearted excuse—he always came back stronger. She’d catch glimpses of his frustration sometimes, in the tight line of his mouth or the way he’d fist his hands at his sides, but he never unleashed that frustration on her. Instead, he teased, he flirted, he praised. And every time she knocked him down, he got up again, more determined than ever.

Lando was desperate. His affection for her had morphed into an all-consuming fascination. When he was away in Monaco, racing or fulfilling sponsor obligations, he’d tell Max how he couldn’t stop thinking about her. He’d message Pietra, trying to get any new details about Y/N’s day. He was head over heels, losing sleep, replaying every interaction they’d ever had—each brush of the fingers, each clever remark that made him laugh, each time she chewed her lip and pretended not to look at him, even though he felt her gaze.

She, meanwhile, was enjoying the slow burn. It was cruel in a way, but exhilarating. She loved the sense of power over a man who had the entire world at his feet yet seemed willing to crawl if it meant she’d say yes. She wasn’t intentionally cruel—she did like him. In fact, she liked him a lot. But the thrill of him chasing and her evading was addicting. She made sure to flirt just enough to keep him on the hook—an extra lingering stare, a subtle graze of her hand across his chest whenever she passed by him at a party, a playful text that ended with a winking emoji—only to turn cold if he tried to corner her for anything more.

And it worked. She reeled him in, then pushed him away, over and over. Each time, he fell deeper under her spell, thoroughly bewitched by the side-smiles, the confident tilt of her chin, the way she’d arch an eyebrow whenever he tried to inch closer. Lando found himself wanting her with a fierceness he’d never felt before. Some nights he’d lie awake in Monaco, scrolling through photos of them at group events—her bright eyes, her maddening half-smiles—and wonder what he had to do to make her his.

So here she was again, sliding into a lounge booth with Pietra and Max, fully aware of Lando’s presence across the room. She greeted her friends with a sweet smile, but her pulse fluttered. Lando soon made his way over, wearing a casual denim jacket and a grin that betrayed a hint of nerves. He paused by the table, his gaze locking onto Y/N’s.

“Evening,” he said softly, eyes gleaming.

She cocked her head, forcing a pleasant smile. “Hey there, Norris. In London again?”

He shrugged with forced nonchalance. “Yeah, had some meetings earlier. Thought I’d stick around for the weekend.” It was a lie. He’d finished his obligations days ago, but no one doubted he’d stayed in town solely for her.

Pietra nudged Y/N with a playful smirk. “Glad you two can finally catch up. We��ve barely seen you in the same place these last few weeks.”

Lando lowered himself next to Y/N on the booth’s bench, the cushion sinking beneath his weight. She could practically feel the heat radiating from him. He smelled fresh and warm, a subtle cologne mixed with something distinctly him. “I’m starving,” he announced to no one in particular, though his attention stayed fixed on Y/N. “Hungry?”

She had eaten earlier, but she smiled coyly. “Might nibble on something if it’s good enough,” she teased.

His gaze flickered over her lips as she said the words. “I’ll make sure it’s good,” he murmured, voice dropping lower.

Goosebumps prickled her skin. She had to look away, heart drumming. If there was one thing Lando excelled at, it was firing her up with a single line of flirtation. She tensed her jaw, determined not to let him see just how much she liked that.

As the night wore on, Max and Pietra chatted about their upcoming travel plans. Lando and Y/N lingered at the edge of the conversation, occasionally joining in, but mostly locked in a subtle battle of words and glances.

At one point, Y/N excused herself to go to the bar, deliberately leaving him behind, half-hoping he’d follow. Sure enough, a moment later, a figure slid in beside her, resting an elbow on the wooden counter.

“You’re really not going to sit next to me all night?” Lando asked, feigning a pout.

She shrugged with a lazy grin. “You seemed too eager. Didn’t want to get your hopes up.”

He let out a soft groan, rubbing the back of his neck. “You drive me insane, you know that?”

“Yeah,” she teased. “I’m counting on it.”

He placed a hand on her lower back. Not too low, but enough to make her heart jump. “You’re doing this on purpose,” he accused, though the corners of his mouth lifted in admiration.

She pursed her lips. “I might be.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Why do you keep saying no?”

“Because…” She trailed off, letting the unspoken tension fill the gap. She could have easily told him she was afraid or uncertain, but that wasn’t the game she was playing tonight. Instead, she flashed a small, almost innocent smile. “Maybe I just like watching you try.”

His expression tightened, eyes flashing with frustration and something hotter. “Then watch me,” he said. “I’m not quitting.”

She gulped, momentarily stunned by the heated timbre in his voice. A flicker of genuine nerves fluttered inside her because she sensed his patience was wearing thin, replaced by a more urgent desire. For all her playful torment, she couldn’t deny a thrill ran through her at the thought of him finally snapping—that the slow burn might become an inferno that neither of them could control.

They returned to the booth, but an hour later, the small party started to disperse. Max and Pietra had an early morning. With warm hugs and goodbyes, they headed out, leaving Y/N and Lando alone amidst the lounge’s dwindling crowd.

He slid closer, draping one arm along the back of the booth. “So… are you gonna run away now?”

She pretended to check her phone. “It’s getting late. I might call it a night soon.”

He exhaled a barely concealed groan. “You always do this. We hang out with friends, you tease me, and then you leave me high and dry.”

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” She batted her eyelashes, an expression of false innocence.

“Barely,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. Then he steeled himself. “What if I said I’m done taking no for an answer?”

Her pulse skittered. She arched an eyebrow. “That sounds dangerously close to an ultimatum, Norris.”

He looked straight into her eyes, unwavering. “I want you. You know it. You’ve known it for months. I’m tired of playing the same game where I lose every time.”

Her stomach twisted with both excitement and the faintest tremor of guilt for having strung him along so long. But her desire to keep him on the edge remained strong. “You sound desperate,” she murmured, leaning forward.

His cheeks flared with color, but he didn’t back down. “I am desperate. Do you have any idea how you’ve been driving me crazy?”

She placed a hand delicately on his chest, feeling his heartbeat thunder beneath her palm. “You’re cute when you’re frustrated,” she quipped, pressing just enough to keep him leaning toward her.

He caught her wrist lightly. “And you’re unbelievably gorgeous when you’re tormenting me.” His gaze darkened as he whispered, “Come home with me. Or let me come home with you. Either way, let’s stop pretending we don’t want this.”

For a moment, she was silent. The tension between them was near stifling. Every inch of her body buzzed with anticipation, and she had to swallow hard to steady her voice.

She trailed her fingers up his neck, pausing to toy with the hairs at his nape. “My place,” she whispered. Her heart pounded at the stunned look that crossed his face. “You coming or not?”

He didn’t need to be asked twice.

They left the lounge together, the cool air of the London streets a sharp contrast to the heat that had built between them. Neither spoke much on the walk to her flat—a short distance that felt endless in the taut silence. Lando’s hand found hers, and she didn’t pull away this time. In fact, she threaded her fingers through his, sending a jolt of excitement right through them both.

He followed her inside the building, up two flights of stairs to her door. She fumbled with her keys, her nerves betraying her calm façade. Once inside, she discarded her coat, setting it on a rack by the door.

Lando shut the door behind them. No small talk. No polite questions about whether he wanted a drink. The second they were alone, he crossed the space in two strides, cradling her face with both hands and pressing his lips to hers in a long-awaited, bruising kiss.

A whimper escaped her as she leaned into him, arms sliding around his shoulders. Their mouths moved in a frenzy of pent-up hunger. She could feel his desperation in every breath, every gasp. He’d waited so long for even a taste, and now he devoured her lips, tongue stroking against hers as though trying to claim every inch.

She broke away momentarily, panting. “Hungry?” she teased, voice uneven.

“Starving,” he growled, eyes flickering with a mixture of relief and raw need.

Without warning, he scooped her up around the waist, drawing a startled laugh from her. She hooked her legs around his hips as he backed her up against the wall, ignoring her protest that she could walk just fine. His lips returned to hers, trailing hot kisses along her jaw, down her neck.

“Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this?” he breathed against her throat. “You, in my arms, not running away?”

She shivered, tugging at the collar of his jacket. “And do you know how many times I’ve thought about you losing your composure like this?” She let out a shaky exhale as his teeth grazed her skin. “I love seeing you barely holding it together.”

He groaned. “You really do get off on tormenting me, don’t you?”

She only smiled, unrepentant. “Maybe.”

With an exasperated laugh, he carried her deeper into the flat, pushing open a door until they tumbled into her bedroom. He set her down carefully, but kept her pinned against him, lips still fused.

Clothes became an unwanted barrier. They stripped each other down in hurried, desperate movements, fabric hitting the floor carelessly as they pressed closer. His palms roamed her curves, mapping them with reverence and urgency all at once. She marveled at the firm lines of his shoulders, the warmth radiating from his skin.

He nudged her gently onto the bed, following her down in a tangle of limbs. She let out a soft moan when his lips trailed over her collarbone, pressing open-mouthed kisses that made her toes curl. It was overwhelming, this culmination of half a year’s worth of tease and denial.

His breath hitched as she slipped her fingers through his hair, guiding him up to meet her eyes. “You like to lead me on, but trust me,” he said, voice husky. “Tonight, I’m the one in control.”

She smirked at the newfound edge in his tone. “Prove it.”

That challenge was all he needed. With a low growl, he leaned in, pressing a series of heated, possessive kisses along her throat. “I’m going to make you beg,” he rasped into her ear. “And you won’t be rejecting me this time.”

Her heart stuttered. She’d never seen him this way—intense, almost predatory in the best sense. It ignited a fire in her she hadn’t known existed. “Show me,” she whispered, arching against him.

His hands slid lower, and she gasped at the sensation of his touch, every nerve in her body singing with tension. She tangled her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, fueling the friction that built with every heated breath. The months of frustration erupted into a raw, almost desperate passion, making them both reckless.

Lando’s hands were firm on her hips, his lips trailing down her neck with a slow, deliberate intensity that made her breath hitch. Y/N’s back arched instinctively, her fingers gripping the sheets as he hovered above her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with desire, but there was a new edge to him—a sharpness that hadn’t been there before.

“You’ve had your fun,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down her spine. “But now it’s my turn.”

Before she could respond, he captured her lips in a searing kiss, cutting off any protest. His tongue swiped against hers, demanding, claiming, and she felt herself melting into him, her body betraying the control she’d so carefully maintained for months. His hands moved to her wrists, pinning them above her head with ease. She let out a soft whimper, the sound swallowed by his mouth as he deepened the kiss.

When he finally pulled away, she was breathless, her chest rising and falling rapidly. He smirked down at her, his expression a mix of satisfaction and something far more dangerous. “You’ve been teasing me for months, love,” he said, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “Do you have any idea what that’s done to me?”

She opened her mouth to respond, but he silenced her with another kiss, this one brief but no less intense. “No,” he said, his voice firm. “You don’t get to talk right now. You don’t get to control this. I’m in charge now.”

Her stomach flipped at the command in his tone, a wave of heat pooling low in her core. She nodded, her eyes wide, and he smiled, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Good girl,” he purred, the words sending a jolt of electricity through her.

His grip on her wrists tightened as he leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "You’ve driven me wild for months,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down her spine. “Now it’s my turn to make you lose control.” His free hand trailed teasingly down her body, fingers skimming over her ribs, her waist, her hips, making her squirm beneath him. “Stay still,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Or I’ll stop.”

She whimpered, her body trembling with restraint as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration. His hand moved back up her side, fingers brushing the underside of her bra. “So beautiful,” he whispered, his gaze locked on hers as his fingers found the clasp. God, he’s doing this with one hand, she thought, her breath hitching as she watched him. How is this so fucking hot?

With practiced ease, he undid the clasp, the material loosening against her skin. He slid the straps down her arms, his eyes never leaving hers, a smirk playing on his lips as the bra fell away, exposing her breasts. “Fuck,” he groaned, his voice thick with desire. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to get my hands on these.” His palm cupped her breast, his fingers fitting perfectly around the soft curve. He squeezed gently at first, then more possessively, his grip firm as his thumb brushed over her nipple, drawing a sharp gasp from her.

He unpinned her wrists, but she didn’t move, as if waiting for permission. He didn’t give her any, too focused on her breasts, his hands now free to explore every inch. He cupped them both, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he squeezed them together, his eyes filled with hunger. “Fuck, baby, they fit perfectly in my hands,” he said, his voice rough. “Like they were made for me to touch.”

He leaned down, his lips hovering just above her skin. “They’re even better than I imagined,” he murmured, his breath hot against her as he took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive peak. She gasped, her hands finally finding his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as he lavished attention on her breasts, alternating between them with a slow, deliberate rhythm.

His mouth was relentless, kissing, licking, and sucking as if he couldn’t get enough. “God, baby, they’re so soft,” he groaned against her skin, his voice trembling with need. “So fucking perfect. I could spend hours right here.” He buried his face between them, his hands still kneading her breasts, squeezing them together as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to her skin.

She arched into his touch, her breath coming in short, uneven gasps as he worshipped her body. Every flick of his tongue, every squeeze of his hands sent shockwaves of pleasure through her, and she couldn’t help but moan his name. “Lando…”

He looked up at her, his lips swollen, his eyes burning with desire. “You’re mine now,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

She nodded, her body trembling with anticipation as he returned to her breasts, his hands and mouth working in perfect harmony to drive her wild. She’d never felt so wanted, so completely claimed, and she loved every second of it.

Lando’s lips left her breasts with one last, lingering kiss, and she whimpered at the loss of contact. But he wasn’t done—not even close. His mouth trailed down her body, leaving a scorching path of kisses along her skin. He kissed the curve of her ribs, the dip of her stomach, each press of his lips deliberate, maddeningly slow. Every inch of her felt like it was on fire, and she could barely keep herself still as he moved lower, his lips brushing the top of her hip bone.

Her breath hitched as he reached the hem of her underwear, his hands skimming over the fabric as if he were memorizing every curve. “So soft,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending shivers through her. He kissed just above the waistband, his breath hot against her skin, and she let out a desperate whimper. “Patience, sweetheart,” he said, smirking up at her. “You made me wait for months. You can wait a little longer.”

She groaned, her hips lifting off the bed as if begging for him to touch her where she needed it most. But he didn’t. Instead, his lips moved to her inner thighs, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there. His hands gripped her thighs, spreading her legs wider, and she felt exposed, utterly at his mercy. “Look at you,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. “So desperate already. What happened to all that teasing confidence, love?”

She could feel the dampness pooling between her legs, her underwear clinging to her in the most embarrassing way. The fabric was soaked, a dark patch spreading across the front, and she knew he could see it, could smell how turned on she was. He kissed her thigh again, his lips brushing so close to where she needed him that she thought she might scream. “Every time you told me no,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin, “I pictured this exact moment—how I’d have you writhing, begging for me.”

Her cheeks flushed, but she couldn’t deny the truth. She was writhing, her hips moving restlessly as he continued his torment. “Lando, please,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers hooking under the waistband of her underwear. “You’re so wet for me,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “And I’ve barely even touched you properly. How bad do you need it?” She whimpered in response, and he smirked, slowly sliding the soaked fabric down her legs and tossing it aside.

He spread her thighs wide, his hands firm on her hips as he leaned in to inspect her. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his voice trembling with awe. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” The evidence of her arousal was impossible to ignore, her pussy glistening, her folds swollen and needy. He kissed her inner thigh again, his lips brushing so close to her clit that she nearly came undone. She gasped, her hips lifting off the bed, but he held her down firmly. “Keep still,” he warned, his voice low and commanding. “Or I’ll stop completely. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

She shook her head frantically, her hands gripping the sheets as he leaned in, his tongue finally dragging through her folds in one long, slow lick. She moaned, the sound desperate and broken, and he groaned against her. “You’re clenching around nothing,” he murmured, his voice rough. “You poor thing. Maybe I should just leave you like this.”

“No!” she cried, her voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Lando, I need you.”

He smirked, his breath hot against her sensitive skin. “Fuck, you sound so pretty when you beg,” he said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “Go on, let me hear you.”

She whined, her hips lifting off the bed again, but he pressed her down firmly. “Don’t even think about it,” he said, his grip on her thighs unyielding. “You’re gonna let me see how much you need this.”

And then he dove in, his tongue lapping at her pussy with relentless precision. She cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair as he swirled his tongue around her clit, sucking lightly before pulling back, leaving her trembling on the edge. “Oh, you want to come?” he teased, his voice smug. “After making me wait all this time? Not yet, sweetheart.”

He pinned her hips to the bed, his tongue working her over with slow, maddening strokes. Every time she felt herself close to the edge, he pulled away, leaving her gasping and desperate. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice breaking.

He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against her skin. “Shh, love. No whining. You teased me for eight months—this is only fair.”

And then he returned to her pussy, his tongue flicking over her clit with just the right amount of pressure to drive her wild. She was close, so close, but he pulled away again, leaving her trembling and desperate, utterly at his mercy.

Lando pulled away from her pussy, leaving her trembling and desperate, her body arched off the bed in search of more. “You’re close, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. “But you’re not getting off that easy.” He stood, stripping off his boxers in one fluid motion, and her breath caught at the sight of him. His cock was thick, fully erect, and glistening with precum, a testament to how badly he wanted her. She couldn’t help but salivate at the sight, her pussy clenching around nothing, aching for him to fill her.

He climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself between her legs. She instinctively tried to close them, her body trembling with a mix of nerves and anticipation, but he grabbed her thighs, pinning them apart with a firm grip. “No, baby,” he said, his voice dark and commanding. “You don’t get to hide from me anymore. You wanted this. Now take it.”

He aligned himself with her entrance, the tip of his cock pressing against her slick folds, and she whimpered, her hips lifting in a silent plea. But Lando wasn’t rushing. He was going to make this last. He pushed into her slowly, inch by torturous inch, his eyes locked on hers as he stretched her open. She gasped, her back arching off the bed as he filled her, the sensation overwhelming and euphoric all at once. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire. “Feel that? That’s me, stretching you open, making you mine.”

He bottomed out, his hips flush against hers, and paused, letting her adjust to the sheer size of him. Her pussy fluttered around his cock, gripping him like a vice, and he groaned, his head falling back in ecstasy. “You feel that?” he whispered, his voice trembling. “How you’re wrapped around me? This is where you belong now—taking every fucking inch of me.”

Y/N was already a mess, her hands gripping the sheets as she struggled to stay still. Her body was on fire, every nerve alight with sensation, and she could feel every ridge, every vein of his cock as he moved inside her. It was too much and not enough all at once. “Lando, please—please move faster,” she begged, her voice breaking.

But he just smirked, his grip on her thighs tightening. “Oh, no, love. I decide how you take me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He pulled out almost completely, then pushed back in with the same slow, deliberate pace, drawing a desperate whimper from her. “You’re doing this to punish me, aren’t you?” she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders.

He laughed, a low rumble in his chest. “Maybe I am,” he admitted, his eyes filled with satisfaction. “You made me wait for months, love. Now it’s your turn to suffer.” He thrust into her again, deep and slow, his hips rolling in a way that had her toes curling. Her pussy throbbed around him, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through her, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more. She needed him to go harder, faster, to give her the release she was hovering on the edge of. “Lando, I swear to god, if you don’t move faster—” she started, but her words were cut off by a moan as he slammed into her again, hitting a spot that made her see stars.

Her pussy was soaking wet, the slickness making every thrust smoother, every movement more intense. For Lando, the sensation was indescribable. Her walls clenched around him like a fist, hot and tight, and every time he pushed into her, he felt like he was losing his mind. She was perfect, perfect, and the way she moaned his name only drove him wild. “You love the way I fill you up, don’t you?” he growled, his voice low and possessive. “Look at you—already so fucking wrecked.”

She nodded frantically, her hips lifting to meet his, but he stopped her, his hands gripping her waist to keep her still. “No, love,” he said, his tone firm. “You stay right there and take it. Don’t move.” She whined, her body trembling beneath him, but she obeyed, her hands gripping the sheets as he continued to fuck her with the same slow, maddening pace. “Stop holding back,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “You’ve wanted this for months, so take me.”

He chuckled, leaning down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. “Oh, I’m taking you, sweetheart,” he murmured against her mouth. “Every. Single. Inch.” Each word was punctuated by a deep, controlled thrust, and she moaned, her body writhing beneath him. But he kept her still, his hands firm on her hips, his pace unrelenting. “Fuck, Lando,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “I’m begging—please, just give it to me.”

He smirked, his eyes filled with satisfaction. “Maybe I will,” he said, his voice teasing. “But not until I’m done with you.” He shifted slightly, angling his hips so that each thrust brushed against her clit, and she cried out, her body trembling on the edge. “That’s it, love,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Let me ruin you properly.”

His cock felt like heaven inside her, stretching her open in the most delicious way, and she could feel every inch of him as he moved, slow and deep, his pace maddeningly controlled. For him, the sensation was almost too much. Her pussy was so tight, so wet, and every time she clenched around him, he felt like he was going to lose it. But he wasn’t going to give in—not yet. He was going to make her suffer, just like she’d made him. “You’re mine now,” he growled, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

She moaned, her body trembling beneath him, her pussy gripping him tighter with each thrust. She was close, so close, but he wasn’t going to let her come—not yet. He was going to draw this out, make her beg for it, make her feel every second of the torment she’d put him through. “Say it,” he demanded, his voice dark. “Say you love the way I fuck you.”

She hesitated, her eyes fluttering shut as another wave of pleasure crashed over her, but he tightened his grip on her jaw, forcing her to look at him. “Say it properly,” he growled, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Or I stop right now.” She whimpered, her body trembling beneath him, and finally, she said it, her voice trembling with need. “I… I love the way you fuck me.”

He smirked, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “Good girl,” he purred, leaning down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. “Now let me show you how much I’ve wanted this.” And with that, he finally picked up the pace, his thrusts deep and relentless, driving her closer and closer to the edge. She was a mess, her body writhing beneath him, her moans filling the room as he fucked her exactly how he’d promised—deep, slow, and completely in control.

And she loved every second of it.

Lando’s hands moved to her hips, his grip firm and unyielding as he lifted her effortlessly, flipping her in one fluid motion. Her breath caught in her throat as she found herself straddling him, his cock still buried deep inside her. Her tits bounced with the sudden movement, and he didn’t miss the opportunity, his hands immediately reaching up to cup them, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he squeezed possessively. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, his voice thick with desire. “Now let me see you ride me, but don’t you dare move faster than I let you.”

His hands were like iron, gripping her hips and holding her steady as he thrust up into her, his cock sliding in and out of her slick pussy with maddening precision. She tried to lift herself, to take control of the rhythm, but he held her down firmly, making her take every inch of him at his pace. “No, love,” he said, his voice dark and commanding. “You don’t get to set the pace. I do. And I want to take my time with you.”

His fingers dug into her flesh, holding her in place as he fucked up into her, his hips driving with a steady, relentless rhythm. Every thrust made her pussy clench around him, her body trembling with the effort of staying still. “Lando, please,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Let me move.” She could feel every inch of his cock inside her, stretching her open, filling her in the most delicious way. The sheer size of him was overwhelming, and she could feel every ridge, every vein as he slid in and out of her. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his hands holding her down as he thrust into her again, deeper this time, hitting a spot that made her see stars.

“God, you feel so good,” she moaned, her head falling back as he continued to fuck her, his hands gripping her hips, controlling every movement. “Fuckin’ perfect around me,” he growled, his voice rough. “You take me so well, like you were made for me.” She could feel his cock twitching inside her, his control slipping just slightly, the hot, hard length of him pressing against her walls, stretching her in the most exquisite way. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through her, her pussy clinging to him like a vice, greedy for more. But Lando wasn’t rushing. He was going to make this last. Every movement was deliberate, controlled, and it was driving her mad.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Trying to squirm away. You’re not going anywhere, love.” His hands gripped her tighter, holding her down as his cock plunged deeper into her, every thrust hitting that perfect spot that made her moan his name. Fuck, he’s so big, she thought, her body trembling on top of him. She could feel every inch of him inside her, stretching her, filling her, and she loved it. His cock was thick, hot, and hard, and every time he thrust into her, she felt like she was losing her mind. Her pussy was so wet, so slick, and every movement felt like pure bliss. She could feel the way her walls clenched around him, gripping him tight, and she knew he could feel it too.

“Stay still,” he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument. “You’re going to let me use you exactly how I want.” His hands were like iron, gripping her hips and holding her steady as he thrust up into her, his cock sliding in and out of her slick pussy with maddening precision. She tried to lift herself, to take control of the rhythm, but he held her down firmly, making her take every inch of him at his pace. “No running, no hiding,” he growled, his voice dark and possessive. “You wanted to tease me for months? Now you’re going to feel what that did to me.”

Her pussy was on fire, every nerve in her body alight with sensation as he continued to fuck her, his hands gripping her hips, controlling every movement. She could feel his cock twitching inside her, his control slipping just slightly, the hot, hard length of him pressing against her walls, stretching her in the most exquisite way. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing through her, her pussy clinging to him like a fist, greedy for more. But Lando wasn’t rushing. He was going to make this last. Every movement was deliberate, controlled, and it was driving her mad.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.” His hands gripped her tighter, holding her down as his cock plunged deeper into her, every thrust hitting that perfect spot that made her moan his name. She could feel every inch of him inside her, stretching her, filling her, and she loved it. Her pussy was so wet, so slick, and every movement felt like pure bliss. She could feel the way her walls clenched around him, gripping him tight, and she knew he could feel it too.

“You like this, don’t you?” he teased, his voice smug, the satisfaction evident in his tone. “You like me holding you down, making you take every inch.” He kept his pace steady, his hands holding her in place, not letting her move as he fucked her exactly how he wanted. She was a moaning mess, her hips lifting slightly, trying to meet his thrusts, but he wasn’t giving her an inch. His hands tightened on her hips, holding her down, making her take everything he gave her. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice rough. “You’re going to take everything I give you, and you’re going to love every fucking second of it.”

“Lando, please,” she begged, her voice trembling with need. “I need more. Please.” His hands gripped her tighter, his fingers digging into her flesh as he thrust into her again, deeper, harder, hitting that perfect spot that made her cry out. “Beg me properly,” he said, his voice dark. “Show me how much you need it.” She bit her lip, her body trembling beneath him, and finally, she said it, her voice trembling with need. “Please, Lando. Please fuck me harder. I need it. Please.”

"Good girl," he purred, his fingers threading into her hair as he guided her head down, tilting her face down to meet his. Then, he captured her lips in a searing kiss, possessive and deep.

“Now let me show you how much I’ve wanted this.” With a growl, Lando flipped her onto her back again in one fluid motion, his cock still buried deep inside her. His hands gripped her thighs, spreading her legs wide as he loomed over her, his eyes blazing with hunger. He didn’t give her a moment to adjust before he started fucking her again—hard, fast, and without mercy. His hips driving into her with a savage rhythm, his cock slamming into her pussy with such force that the bed shook beneath them.

His cock was thick, rigid, and unyielding, every vein pulsing with the sheer intensity of his arousal. It was hot, almost searing, as it stretched her open, the girth of it filling her to the brim. Every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure through her, the friction of his cock sliding in and out of her slick walls making her toes curl. Her pussy was so tight, so wet, and every time he pushed into her, she could feel every inch of him—the way he stretched her, the way he filled her completely, the way he hit that spot deep inside that made her see stars.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire. “Feel that? That’s me, fucking you just the way I’ve wanted to for months.” His hands moved to her hips, gripping her hard enough to leave marks as he pulled her down onto his cock with every thrust. “You take me so fucking well, love. Like you were made for me.” His words were low and possessive, dripping with a primal need that sent shivers down her spine.

She could feel his cock twitching inside her, the hot, hard length of him pressing against her walls, stretching her in the most exquisite way. Every time he thrust into her, she felt a wave of pleasure crash over her, her pussy clenching around him, desperate for more. “Lando, please,” she gasped, her voice trembling with need. “I need you. Don’t stop.”

He smirked, his eyes filled with satisfaction. “You think I’d stop now?” he growled, his hips slamming into her with even more force. “Not a fucking chance, love.” His cock was relentless, pumping into her with a rhythm that was both punishing and euphoric. She could feel the way her walls clung to him, gripping him tight, as if begging him never to leave. “You’re mine now,” he whispered, his voice low and possessive. “And I’m going to make sure you never forget it.”

Her body was on fire, every nerve alight with sensation as he continued to fuck her with a ferocity that left her breathless. She could feel the tension building inside her, coiling tighter and tighter with every thrust. “Lando, I’m close,” she whimpered, her voice breaking. “Please, let me come.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Go ahead, baby,” he whispered, his voice dark and teasing. “Come for me. Let me feel you.” His hands moved to her breasts, squeezing them roughly as he continued to thrust into her, his cock hitting that spot deep inside her that made her see stars.

She couldn’t hold back any longer. Her body convulsed as the orgasm ripped through her, her pussy clamping down on his cock as waves of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out, her voice trembling with ecstasy as she came apart beneath him.

Lando groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he felt her walls clench around him, milking his cock for every drop. “Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight,” he growled, his voice rough with need. “I can’t hold back anymore.” With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside her, his cock pulsing as he came, filling her with his release. The sensation was overwhelming, the heat of his cum spilling deep inside her, marking her as his.

They came together, their bodies trembling with the force of their orgasms. She could feel every pulse of his cock inside her, the way his cum filled her, the way his body shuddered with pleasure. It was intoxicating, the way they fit together, the way they moved as one. “Fuck, baby,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “That was… fucking incredible.”

She could barely speak, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Her pussy felt so full, so satisfied, and she could still feel the way his cock twitched inside her, as if he wasn’t ready to pull away just yet. “Lando,” she whispered, her voice soft and trembling. “That was… I’ve never felt anything like that.”

He smiled, leaning down to kiss her softly. “I told you I’d make you mine,” he murmured, his voice low and possessive. “And I meant it.” He stayed inside her, their bodies still connected, as they caught their breath together. The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing, the air thick with the scent of their passion. And in that moment, she knew she was his—completely and utterly his.

They lay entangled in the aftermath, the sheets tangled around sweat-slick skin. The room was quiet save for their ragged breathing. After a moment, Lando turned to gaze at her, still looking slightly astonished. “You’re real,” he murmured. “I’ve waited so long to have you here, like this.”

She let out a shaky laugh, her hand resting on his chest. “Didn’t think I’d give in, did you?”

He brushed a thumb over her lower lip. “I hoped you would. No matter how much you pushed me away, I couldn’t imagine stopping.”

She met his eyes. “Why?”

“Because you’re everything.” His voice was soft, laced with sincerity. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head for months. I can’t even remember what it was like not wanting you.”

Her cheeks warmed, and she allowed herself a rare moment of honesty. “You made it hard for me, you know,” she admitted quietly. “Staying away when you’re so… persistent.”

He exhaled a quiet chuckle, clearly remembering every time she’d laughed off his attempts or walked away. “You’re a damn expert at playing hard to get, though. You had me by the throat. I was basically begging.”

She smirked, eyes gleaming in the low light. “Still are,” she teased gently. “You’ll keep begging for more, right?”

His laugh turned into a low, contented hum. “Oh, definitely. But don’t worry.” He shifted, rolling partly on top of her again, the warmth of his body reminding her just how good it felt. “I’m not letting you slip away this time.”

She didn’t resist as he captured her lips once more. The tension was different now—still electric, but edged with relief. They no longer had to pretend or play a cat-and-mouse game. The slow burn had finally exploded into a full-blown blaze, and there was no going back to careful distance.

Eventually, they drifted into a comfortable silence, bodies exhausted from the release of so many months of pent-up desire. She nestled into the crook of his arm, listening to the steady thump of his heart. Lando, seemingly unable to stop touching her, lazily traced patterns on her arm with his fingertips. Each brush of his skin still sent a small thrill through her, a reminder of what had finally happened between them.

In a half-drowsy state, she heard him murmur, “I can’t believe this is real.”

She let out a soft laugh, pressing her face into his shoulder. “I guess I teased you long enough.”

He sighed contentedly. “Too long,” he teased back, though his tone was affectionate. “But it’s worth it. You’re worth it.”

Warmth spread through her at his words. She pressed a kiss to his collarbone, ignoring the tiny voice inside her that warned of complexities and future uncertainties. For now, all that mattered was that the months of dancing around each other had led them here, to a tangled bed in a London flat, hearts still racing from the aftershock of passion.

The game they’d played was over, the final move sealing a mutual surrender. But as she looked up and met his eyes, she realized something else: a new chapter had begun. One where neither of them had to hide their attraction or maintain a careful distance. One where he didn’t have to pine and she didn’t have to tease—unless, of course, they both wanted to for the fun of it.

She gave him a sly smile. “I’m guessing you don’t regret staying in London this weekend.”

His quiet laugh rumbled in his chest. “Not even a little bit.” Then he leaned in, brushing his lips to her ear. “But don’t think I’m done yet. After all these months? We’ve only just started.”

Her breath caught, a new wave of heat coursing through her. “So show me,” she whispered.

He didn’t hesitate. With a wicked grin, he drew her closer, tangling their limbs again under the dim glow of early morning light. Their laughter faded into soft groans and murmured confessions, and everything else—every worry, every reason she’d ever had to say no—melted away.

In that moment, the only thing that mattered was the closeness they’d finally earned, and the thrilling promise that this was just the beginning.

[madamechrissy]

Meddle About

Choso art is from @aransmind omg all their art is so delicious 😩😩😭 go follow themm

pairings- Tattoo Artist Choso x F! Reader

summary- After a bad breakup, on a whim you decide to go get a tattoo!! You remember Choso from college, he was so hot and mysterious but the two of you never talked. Now, he just happens to be the artist of the shop you randomly walk into. And you quickly learn- tattoos make you horny. Whoopsie!!

warnings- this chap- fingering, talking you through it, soft dom Choso, he's tasting you and telling you to be a good girl, mentions of past crushes in college hehe, why can't I do anything without plot?

Gonna be drabble style chaps 🫶🫶🖤

part one - part three

part two

Touch me, Choso - Did you just say that!?

Choso's leaning over you now, fingers brushing down your cheek, down to the curve of your neck, watching your eyes dilate, your breasts rising and falling with each quickened breath. "Touch you, hmm? Where, here?"

His fingers dance across your collarbone, thumb slipping along the delicate bones there, lips a breath from yours - you taste his breath, sweet like some sugary concoction, mixed with a hint of weed, intoxicating as his violet eyes study you. You bite your lower lip, a hand slipping to grip his wrist.

"Maybe a little lower?" You murmur, and he smiles just a bit - lips quirking at the corners.

"Lower, hmm?" Choso stands then, and you curse internally, eyes shutting, before gasping as you feel him clean the tattoo in progress. He's delicate as he wipes away the excess ink, before coating it and wrapping it.

"Oh, it's stinging a bit." You say softly, leaning up on your elbows and looking down at your thigh.

"Let it sit for a while," he says softly, and you think maybe you've lost it, the tattooed part of your thigh stinging just a bit as he presses the plastic wrap, eyeing you under long lashes, before slipping his fingertips along your inner thigh, watching it tremble. "Did you want me to touch you here?"

You nod, he chuckles at you, one arm braced on the side of your head, the other hand slipping higher, your heart is pounding in your ears as the anticipation of his slow hand teases you. "Higher."

"Higher? What do we say when we want something, hmm?" He is not exactly the shy boy you remember, he's self assured in his assumption, when his thumb tugs just a bit on the elastic of your panties, soaked already. "You're not answering... what do we say?"

"Please?" He moans softly, while your hand slips up his chest, feeling the strong muscles under the soft black band tee, when his thumb brushes your clit over your panties, making you cry out. "Mnh!"

"Here, pretty?" You nod quickly, he acts as if he doesn't wanna slide right inside your cunt, feeling it's heat, the sticky damp fabric coating his fingers again, pressing harder until he finds your clit over that fabric, feeling it twitch for him as your eyes dart to his lips.

"Please, m-more," your little breathy whisper almost ends his resolve, he slips under the waistband of them now, teasing your slit bare, feeling even more wetness pouring, your eyes get lidded as you look so pretty for him. "Ngh! there, please,"

"You're such a good girl now, why couldn't you be good while I was working, hmm?" He murmurs, running circles on your clit as the sounds of your soppy cunt echo in his quiet tattoo shop, scattered with art all over the walls, you errantly wonder if it's his, but all thoughts are forced from your brain when his lips nearly brush yours. "This what you wanted?"

"Want more," you say, kissing him then, when he hitches a thigh up so he can sink a finger in your soppy little hole, groaning as he feels your gummy walls gripping him. "Ah!"

"Fuck... do you taste that good all over?" He asks gently, kissing your lips, cool metal of his black lip ring pressing into the plush of yours, he pulls back and runs his tongue along the seam of your lips, moaning now. "You do."

"Hmm..." You're kissing him deeper, his tongue ring clicks your teeth as his finger curls just fucking right, tapping that spongy spot in your walls, making you gasp. "Oh!"

"There it is," he whispers, kissing across your neck, littering your throat with bites, soft enough not to mark you, but tearing just enough to leave a sweet ache. "You're so tight, hmm honey? Can you take two?"

"Y-yes, I can - mnh!"

"So wet, that all from the tattoo?" He teases, string of saliva evaporating between your lips as he swirls his finger around your entrance, tugging your underwear down then. He slips them to your ankles, two fingers now stretching you out, and your only answer is a moan, your hips arching up. "Asked a question honey."

"Not just the tattoo, but... mnh... part of it being... this wet..." you hear it, the squelching as his two long fingers insert themselves, and your cunt is drooling down all his black rings, dripping to the black leather seat you're laying on, your words trail off, pathetic from those fingers stretching you out.

"You're making a mess," he tuts his tongue, leaning over you and kissing your lips again, your hands slip around under his shirt, feeling the strong muscles of his back. "You're gonna have to clean this up, honey."

"Huh? Mnh!" You're cut off by him slipping his two fingers out, leaving you wanting, blinking and whining at the emptiness, when he slips his two fingers in your mouth.

"Suck," his order is firm, everything about Choso you thought in these moments have proven false, it's a sexy, dominating tone, so husky and deep. His eyes go black as he watches you sucking his tattooed fingers, the sight of your cheeks hollowing far too much for him. "Good girl, you can listen."

"Please, more," you're whining, desperately, and he smiles just a bit, kissing your sweet arousal off your lips, dying to bury his face between your thighs. But, not just yet. "Choso..."

"Do I need to make you cum so we can finish the outline?" He whispers, fingers brushing up and down your slit, your nipples press against your top, making him throb for you. He'd always thought you were pretty but fuck, he's teasing you and watching your eyes roll back, your cunt grips his two fingers so tight, when he curls back up at the spot that has you arching. "Will you stay still after?"

"Mm-hmm," he chuckles a bit at how cute you are. "Promise."

"Mmm, then go ahead," he leans forward, veins bulging out of his forearm as he angles it just so, and his other hand enwraps at the nape of your neck. "Cum for me, pretty."

You're done when he scissors his fingers in and out of your cunt, truly making a mess, while he just watches you, intently - so much behind the gaze you're as intrigued as you are dizzy, he curls them just so and presses the heel of his hand on your clit as he does, and all the pressure in your tummy builds until it releases. You're not quiet when you cum, he watches it all avidly, lips parted as you cling to him, nails leaving crescents along the strong muscles of his back.

"That's it, you're doing so good for me," he whispers, urging you on, when your cries are drank into his mouth, he's trembling just a bit as he feels your cunt just spasming around his fingers, gushing down, when he eases them out with a suctioned pop. He sucks you off his fingers, groaning as you watch him, face fucked out from that.

"Holy fuck..." you've surely lost it, watching him suck your cunt off him, pussy aching from just his fingers stretching you out. Your thighs are shaky, breaths coming in little pants, when he tilts your chin up, lips glossy from your cunt.

"Now, can we get the outline done? If you sit still I'll let you cum again, all right?" You're blinking - you're dumb from him right now, your breakup that's had you completely fucked up is far back, all you can think of is cumming for him again. "Messy," he slips your soaking panties back up, and goes back to acting professional, grabbing your thigh again. "You gonna be a good girl?"

"Maybe." He chuckles, as your disoriented mind runs - is this like normal for him!? Is he fine, unaffected? You're quiet, thigh burning with that pleasant pain, making the tensing in your tummy come back as he works the needle over you, you try to calm your breaths down, wondering then.

"Feel good?" He asks softly, and you nod, hands resting over your lap as you try not to move, to shift your hips and whine for more.

"Choso... college. Why didn't we ever..."

"We did kiss, once. But... you never remembered I guess." He murmurs suddenly, a pink along his cheeks like he hadn't just fingered you and tasted you.

"What!? We kissed! When?" He sighs, eyeing you for a moment, before going back to the black outline, angling his wrist just so to follow the curve of your thigh.

"It was a party one night, you were... god you were smashed, and you just... kissed me. I took you home thanks to your friend telling me where your dorm was, and put you to bed." You wrack your brain for the memory then, and he sighs. "It was a good kiss, for you being sloppy drunk."

"Tell me the story?" You lay back down, staying still for him, and he brushes his fingers across your inner thigh, remembering.

<3 tags-

@vampyhvnt @yamadramallamaqueen @sukubusss @mimi-sanisanidiot @nerdsgumyclusters @realwhorehours @all-with-angel @flowerymenendez @emochosoluvr @ohmygodj0j0 @chocalycake @ehlaaa @thatwgal @gina239 @nevvynev @muli-wam @luvmichu @cafem3wcuryy @sttaejoon-blog @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @rrosieroo @dr3amingc0rpse @s0phi3-heartzzz @deethe80senthusiast @theroyalcrouton @biskywhisk @aldebrana @jazmynemh1 @jeankirschteinsimp @babychickenscareme @dairyfaerie @joylvetie @koolayee @coralbae @saitamaswifey @fictionalmen4eva1 @1tsleesee @luvumiah @deathrye @makingtimemine @mimiluvzu2 @angie420 @mai-505 @just-lilita @gradmacoco @soft-souled @aseqan @fairygardenprincesss @tomurafrlover23

[foolinafable]

thanks to tuffnut

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Fem!Reader Synopsis: four of the many times hiccup was oblivious to the fact he was in love with you and the time he finally realised.  Word Count: 1.5K Tags: 4+1 fic, Fluff, Hiccups pov Note: started this ages ago and only just got inspired enough to finish it.

1. Searching for you in a crowd 

Hiccup would never admit it, even now that he is respected as the heir to the hairy hooligan tribe and his father is proud of him. That he still feels like an outsider. 

Maybe it’s because they see him as this dragon master and while he might be if he’s to listen to anything Fishlegs says- he feels like they don’t see anything else- he is still just the chief’s son, the future of the tribe or their saviour if any of his work on the edge was talked about. He was never just Hiccup to them, even to his friends they see him as this omnipotent being rather than just a teen like them- capable of making mistakes.

He suggests that this is why he prefers to have time alone- just him, toothless the ocean beneath them and the wind carrying them elsewhere, where he can be anything. 

Annoyingly, this is not something he can do now: walking into the great hall at dinner time. He can already feel the beginnings of a headache wracking his brain as he imagines the awkward conversations he is going to have with villagers about his work on the edge as of late or the nagging of his father and Gobber to come back to Berk so he can learn the ways of chiefdom- something he is unsure that he even wants.

Entering the great hall after a large exhale, Hiccup looks around, searching for something lips pursing when he can’t find it immediately. It is only when he walks closer to where his father is sat, calling out pleasantries to those who greet him on the way that his eyes lock onto your figure, listening intently to what Ruffnut and Tuffnut are saying. Following the movements of their arms with your eyes as they spoke animatedly about who knows what. Hiccup finds a small smile appear on his face at the sight of you, only looking away when his father claps a hand behind his back making him aware of his surroundings, turning towards his father struggling to listen to whatever issue his father needs resolving around Berk this time, his thoughts still surrounding his best friend, knowing that as long as you are here he can be himself, just Hiccup. As that was always more than enough for you and that idea alone makes him feel less like an outsider.

2. Missing you when apart

He was starting to regret saying you couldn’t come with him. Not that he doesn’t enjoy Astrid and (sometimes) Snotlout’s company, but it clearly isn’t the same. While he usually enjoys scouting missions as they are a peaceful opposition to the dangerous missions they have had as of late, you typically come with him. 

But he knows that you cannot leave the edge defenceless and Astrid was complaining about not getting out with Stormfly enough- so it all made sense logically for Astrid to come instead and for you to stay on land, protecting the dragon eye lenses the group had hidden.

He couldn’t trust anyone more which is why he was confused as to why he felt so anxious. Even Toothless could notice the angst radiating off his rider, making a noise of questioning at Hiccup when he was quieter than normal, not even going over the route the group were scouting- something he usually did a hundred times until the group got annoyed at him. Not even playfully joking with Snotlout about who was the better cousin until Astrid would make a comment that would set Snotlout off arguing with her.

Instead, the three riders sat in somewhat awkward silence with Astrid and Snotlout starting at each other trying to gauge if the other knew what was wrong with the boy and who was going to ask him as seemingly neither wanted to as usually you would look after Hiccup when he got like this but you were back on the edge and honestly Astrid was wishing she didn’t kick up such a fuss about her and Stormfly’s lack of action as even being bored back on the edge was better than being sat in this haunting silence.

It was only upon returning to the edge that the two saw his mood pick up, he nearly crashed Toothless into the ground at the speed he dismounted causing the other two to look around in panic until they saw him running towards you and then it all made sense. The two snickering slightly as they realised that he was only in a foul mood because you weren't around.  

3. You looking after him when he gets sick

“It was only a matter of time” you muttered to him as you bundled him up in his blankets and he knew that you were right, you had been telling him for weeks to wear some warmer clothes during his flights with Toothless and his lack of listening has left him bedridden with a horrible cold, head pounding, nose blocked and red cheeks. He could only imagine the state of him somehow shaking and sweating all at the same time. He would’ve replied with something teasing if his throat didn’t feel so scratchy so he simply settled for a huff which made you laugh quietly in return. 

“Okay, I will stop being mean, but only if you get some sleep” you reasoned with the boy as he whined at the idea thinking of everything he had to today 

“I will get Astrid and Fishlegs to take your jobs for the day- can't have you getting any sicker what would your Father say?” you continued and at these words, the boy stopped fussing, the exhaustion finally catching up to him. 

“Have a good sleep Hiccup, I will be here when you wake up,” you muttered as he dozed off.

 For some reason, Hiccup couldn’t understand those words made him feel so much better.  

4. When his dad mentions you

Small talk with his father even after all this time was still somewhat awkward, like the feeling of your skin being too big for your bones. But, it was much better than it used to be or at least Hiccup usually believed it was. Still, today he would give anything to be anywhere but sit with his dad in their family home as he couldn’t stop going on about you and possibly betrothals something Hiccup knew would annoy you.

“I heard a lot of the boys around here want to ask for her hand, so maybe you should get a move on” Stoick spoke trying to hint at the boy's clear feelings for you

“I- what?” Hiccup asked confused, when had he ever shown interest in that?

“Oh it's nothing” Stoick tried to cover his tracks feeling Hiccups in annoyance at his words ‘you two just remind me of myself and a special someone when I was younger” 

“What are you and Gobber? I’m sure she will be very flattered by those words Dad” Hiccup laughed before quickly taking his leave before his father could sprout out any more nonsense. 

“Me and your mother” Stoick muttered but Hiccup was already gone, probably halfway back to the edge due to how fast he bolted out the door.  

5. The realisation

Watching you interact with Toothless was one of Hiccup's favourite things to do. Seeing his dragon take a shine to you just as much as he does makes a warmth spread all over his body in a comforting way. 

“Hiccup, my brother! What’s happening?” Tuffnut called out as he made his way towards the boy Hiccup quickly looked away from you for some reason embarrassed to be nearly caught by the boy, his cheeks red and hot

“Not- not a lot” Hiccup tried to smile but it came off uneasy much like his words. To his luck, Tuffnut didn't seem to notice instead looking at where Hiccup had his eyes trained just moments before before looking back at the boy 

“Don’t worry I see” Tuffnut nodded in understanding causing Hiccup to become confused 

“See what?” he questioned the peculiar boy 

“You were finally building up the courage to ask her out!” Tuffnut declared “I mean it’s about time everyone knows you have the biggest crush on her! Don’t let me stop you, in fact, I wasn't even here!” the boy quickly ran off as Hiccup's thoughts whirled around his brain about what on earth was Tuffnut on about he didn’t have a crush on you. No way. I mean sure you are the first person he looks for in a crowd of people, he gets irritable when you aren't with him on missions, you are the only one he would want looking after him and his father loves you but that doesn't mean he likes you right- your his best friend he couldn't possibly- could he? 

Then it hit Hiccup, he did have the biggest crush on his best friend, more than a crush really. He was irrevocably in love with you and to make matters worse Tuffnut knew before he did.