𓆩†𓆪

21 ˖° side reblog account

[draculanne]

hello! you can call me reyna, or rey for short. i’ll just by first off saying, i am not a writer (allthough i have been in that field before…) this is just a side blog where i repost my favorite fics or the ones that mean the most to me!

i am also here to show my support to fellow writers by doing this. feel free to message me if you wanna talk or send in an ask as well!

[brokenengene]

⸻𝐎ne 𝐌ore 𝐂hance - p.sh

Park Sunghoon was not the love of your life, only a wealthy heir you were arranged to wed. After a year of marriage full of dealing with his affairs and arrogance, you're ready to walk away. Soon, Sunghoon is facing the truth. If he wants to learn to love you, it's going to be a fight he can't give

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre: arranged marriage, smut, second chance

This content is only for readers 18+

word count: 16K

content warning: strong language, sexual content, toxic relationships, Sunghoon is an asshole, off-page infidelity, so much angst, suggestive usage of alcohol, marital discourse, emotional distress, power imbalance, detailed smut including: oral sex (f!recieving), unprotected sex, praise kink, dirty talk, creampie, overstim.

[ 𝐂atalogue. ]

It’s been an entire year since you said “I do.” 

It's not like you really had a choice. 

Park Sunghoon was not the love of your life. A piece of you shattered as you stood helpless at the altar. 

As a little girl, you dreamed of falling in love. Of waking up next to a man who had it all. 

You imagined picking out the perfect white dress to wear as you walked down the aisle.

Weddings are supposed to be the best day of your life, not the worst.

His family was disgustingly wealthy, and when their only son started acting out of line—

A ring was the swiftest way to knock him back into shape. 

You didn’t have to work. The house was paid off, and the Park family business brought in more than enough profit to drown in.

But the office was your only escape from him and the women he brought in and out of those doors. 

Your hands trembled as you flipped through your keys. The blisters on your feet ached as you pushed open the front door. 

You let out a deep sigh as you kick off your heels.

Every single choice you made was to keep yourself out of this goddamn house for as long as humanly possible. 

With tired hands, you unbuttoned the first two buttons of your blouse. The weight of the day is finally catching up to you. 

And of course, the fridge wasn’t stocked. Cereal would have to do. 

The kitchen was large but empty. Most of the house was. It’s not like you had a lot to bring into the marriage. And you never cared to spend Sunghoon's money on home decor.

If you could even call this place home.

You pulled out a chair at the dimly lit kitchen island. Your bare feet rested against the barstools as you stared aimlessly out the window ahead. 

The sound of stumbling footsteps above confirms that once again, Sunghoon has company. 

You finished up your meal, at least what was left of it, before heading up the dark staircase. 

The door to Sunghoon's room was cracked open, and a sliver of dim light cut through the dark hall. 

You couldn't help but glance into the room as you walked by. 

He knows exactly what he’s fucking doing. 

Breathless sighs and wet sounds of pleasure you would rather not hear echo throughout the hall. You weren’t completely sure if it was on purpose. 

A self-deprecating laugh cuts through your throat. He knows what time you get off work. 

You viciously kicked the door shut. A loud bang exploded throughout the lifeless house. 

Cursing and the rustling of sheets followed as you dragged yourself down the hall towards your own bedroom. 

Sleeping with other women had to be his way of getting back at his parents—or maybe blowing off some steam. 

You pretended like it didn’t bother you, especially when things got loud, and you had to be up early the next morning. 

You shut your own bedroom door, the isolation setting in as you plopped down onto the massive bed in the center.

This sucks. This fucking sucks. 

Not even the hot water could comfort you as it cascaded down your skin. The steam was suffocating as you tried to scrub off the stress and burden of the day. 

Like clockwork, you climbed into your cold bed, letting the mattress dip slightly under your weight. 

You set your alarm, scrolling through your phone to distract you from the ungodly noises echoing from down the hall. 

It was a mindless hell-scape. You knew it was bad for your health, but you needed something—anything to get your mind off things. 

You didn’t even post your engagement. Somehow word just got around. And in time, you were receiving half-hearted congratulations and unsolicited marriage advice. 

You didn't even change your last name on the sites. Legally, you were Mrs.Park, but emotionally, you didn’t feel that way in the slightest. 

How could you when your husband treats your marriage like a punishment? 

You wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to drown out the pleasurable moans of his name falling from another woman’s lips. 

And God, you just wanted to be held. 

Tears started to fall; it was a common occurrence with the stress of the office and coming back to something far from what you’d consider home to be. 

You held yourself tighter, after all—it’s not like you have anyone else who will.

Hours went by, your chest ached, and your eyes burned. 

The house was quiet again, and the sound of your soft sobs cut harshly through the silence. 

Accepting defeat, you crawled out of bed, loosely throwing a soft robe over your body before making your way back towards the kitchen. 

You needed alcohol, something—anything to help put your mind to rest.

As you reached the top of the stairwell, your body went into shock. 

Sunghoon, lazily resting in the kitchen. 

The oven blinked back  the time. 

2:24am

With a shaky breath, you descended the stairwell. Aware of your less-than-sharp appearance. 

You walked past him without a glance or a word, heading straight for the wine cabinet. 

The tension was thick as you made your selections. The glasses clinked as you poured yourself a drink. 

His eyes stayed focused on you. 

“Are all your guests gone?” You spat out sharply as you took a small sip of your wine. The taste sweetly coated your throat as you swallowed.

Your elbows rested against the countertops as you glared at him over the top of your wine glass. 

“I just had one guest, thank you very much,” Sunghoon replied, his voice nonchalant as he turned to grab his own glass of wine.

“You’re such a brat. I see why your family needed to whip your ass into shape.” You muttered, the words nearly as harsh as the alcohol tearing down your throat. 

“At least they’re smart enough not to make business deals that sell out their own daughter in the process.” Sunghoon bit back. He took a sharp swig of his own wine as the venom of his words cut through your skin. 

“Man-whore.” You spit out, your words throwing back the same laced venom. 

“You’re just jealous.” He replies, finishing the rest of his wine glass in one go. 

The words make you scoff. It must be the tear stained look on your face, or the sobs he heard between deep strokes.

“No, just done with the bullshit.” You reply, voice heavy as you finish your wine. Without hesitation, you swiftly poured yourself another glass. 

Sunghoon watches. Scoffing as he sets his own glass down on the opposite countertop. Crossing his arms over his chest. 

“What bullshit? You have a 4-carat ring, this entire house besides my room, and I let you keep that silly little job you care so much about.” Sunghoon replies, his expression stoic, devoid of anything even remotely human. 

You let out a laugh of disbelief. He can’t be this much of an immature dick. 

“You know what. I’ve tried to be the bigger person here, but fuck this.” You replied. Swiftly drowning the rest of your alcohol. 

Sunghoon's cold gaze watches. His shoulders tense at your words, and you swear you could see something else cracking through that cold, bitter exterior. 

The ring on your finger feels all too heavy as Sunghoon lets out a condescending laugh.

“Fuck what?” He replies. 

“Everything! This marriage, this goddamn house! You?” You cried out, the words burning your throat. With a weak sob and a choke in your words, your true feelings finally come to light. 

“You’re ungrateful, you know that?” Sunghoon spits out, his jaw tightening as his gaze narrows strongly. 

“No. You’re the ungrateful one. I’ve given you your space. I haven’t spent a penny of your goddamn money.” You choke out. Hot tears stream down your face as the emotions of the past year start to surface. 

A whole year of this. No more. 

You trembled as you ripped the wedding band from your finger. Without a second thought, you chucked it clean across the kitchen. 

Sunghoon's expression is stunned as the metal hits his chest, echoing loudly in the silence as it hits the tile floor. 

“I’m done”

“You’re what?” Sunghoon whispers, his voice quivering as he glances between the sparking ring in the floor and your tear-stained face.

“You heard me.” 

The world feels like it’s spinning. For a year, you’ve tried to give space, give him the benefit of the doubt. 

Maybe he would at least try to turn things around. If you were kind enough, maybe he would try to make an effort to make this work.

You turned on your heels, heading straight out of the kitchen towards the arch of the front door. 

“Hey!” Sunghoon shouts, his steps heavy as he follows you down the hall.

“Where are you going?” He shouts. His voice quivering as he stopped a few feet away from you. 

“Away from here. Away from you.” You sob, grabbing your keys and slipping on whatever pair of shoes was left by the door.

Sunghoon watches as his cold expression starts to break. His eyes dart between you, the keys in your hand—

“Please—“ Sunghoon whispers, his voice cracking under pressure as he stands tense on the other side of the dark hall. 

You don’t care to hear his words. The last thing you want from him is more sad, pathetic excuses. 

And without another word, you’re out the door. 

⋆⋆⋆

Sunghoon could hardly breathe as he sat alone with himself in the silence. 

She’s gone, after all this time; she finally pulled the fucking trigger. 

He lets out a shaky breath, running his hands over his face. 

God, he feels like the biggest asshole on the planet.

And maybe that’s deserved.

Sunghoon hesitates before locking the door behind you, the house still eerily quiet, even more so with your car gone from the driveway. 

He pulls himself back into the kitchen, pouring another glass of alcohol to help clear his head. 

That ring. 

His breath catches as he sees the shimmering band left on the cold tile. 

Sunghoon wishes he could lie to himself, tell himself it didn’t hurt when you tore the band off your finger. 

To him, the wedding was nothing more than a punishment.

To him, you felt like a punishment. 

The alcohol, the other women, it was all a ploy to get a hold of some type of control—

A ploy to barely hold on to the reckless life he used to have. 

He never wanted to be a family man, not at this age anyway. 

Your twenties are supposed to be for fucking around, self-pleasure, and indulgence.

Not caring for a wife you never even really wanted. 

But the truth is—every night when those women left, every night when he heard the sobs you thought were caught in your pillow. 

It only broke him down more. 

And damn, nothing hurts more than his completely empty, lifeless house.

Sunghoon put down his drink before swiftly bending down to pick up the ring from the cold, hard floor. 

He twisted it in his hands, his stomach churning as he remembered the chains he felt around his throat when he slipped this jewelry onto your delicate finger. 

He hasn’t kissed you since the wedding. Hasn’t even tried.

But day in and day out, you still come through that door with a brave face. 

Neither of you wanted this, but maybe just maybe he could try to make it work. 

And if he has any say? There won't be another year of lifeless distractions. 

⋆⋆⋆

You stumbled into the office fifteen minutes late. 

Your back ached from the hotel mattress, and your eyelids felt heavy from the lack of restful sleep. 

Of course, your coworkers don’t notice that, for months now, you’ve been dragging yourself into this building with what little strength you could muster. 

Your desk is exactly how you left it. 

The morning sun cuts through the blinds as you set up your laptop, scrolling through emails, making a quick to-do list for the day. 

“Hey!” 

A casual voice calls out. 

You swiftly recognize it as your boss. Your shoulders tense as she approaches with a wide, perfect smile on her face. 

“I hope you're doing well this morning, Mrs. Park.” Your boss says professionally as she stands tall at the edge of your desk. 

“Doing great! And you?” You reply, forcing a wide smile with what minuscule strength you have left. 

“I’m doing amazing, thank you for asking! Well, I guess I shouldn’t beat around the bush—“ your boss says, that toothy corporate grin only growing. 

“Mhm…” you reply softly as you turn to face her, hands trembling at your side as you await the news. 

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard the news Stephanie is going on maternity leave and she’ll be out for the rest of the holidays.” Your boss replies.

Your heart sinks. Maternity leave? 

You glance over at your coworker's empty desk, adorned with family pictures, crayon drawings signed proudly—

The empty weight on your left hand doubles. 

You’ll never have that. Not with him. 

You pull yourself together, smiling even brighter as you react to the “good news.” 

“Wow, I didn't even know she was expecting!” You reply forcefully as the words burn in your throat. 

“So, um…naturally, for the rest of the fiscal year, if it’s not too much, she does have some clients that need to be taken care of. And I would hate to ask her to do that remotely—“ your boss announces. 

Of course. They want you—the one with no kids to take on extra work, unpaid. 

But as long as it keeps you out of that house—

“I can take her clients. No problem, just send them my email, and I’ll be in contact.” You reply. 

Your boss's expression melts. 

“Thank you, God, what would this office do without you! I’ll have them forwarded to you right away.” 

Your boss turns on her heels, and the sound of her shoes against the cold tile echoes as she leaves the hall. 

As if your life couldn’t get any worse. 

⋆⋆⋆

The day dragged on, and your eyes felt heavy as they stayed glued to the screen of your laptop. Your to-do list only grew longer and longer. 

People started to fizzle out as you sent email after email. 

Before you knew it, you were the only one left at the office. 

The sun started to set, and the windows let in warm shades of yellow and orange. 

You had to put your head down just to rest your eyes for a few seconds. 

With a soft groan, you put your head in your arms, folding them over the hard, cold desk. 

Your heavy eyelids fluttered shut from exhaustion, the exhaustion finally catching up to you. 

After a few brief moments, your phone buzzes. 

“Incoming call, Sunghoon Park.” The robotic voice calls out. 

You let it ring. 

“Incoming call. Sunghoon Park.” 

Again? You let it go to voicemail. 

After a few more hours, with the sun set low on the horizon, you pack up your things. 

You can barely walk straight as you drag yourself out of the concrete escape. 

The click of your heels makes your head throb as you tread through the dark parking garage back to your car. 

You toss your things into the passenger seat before turning on the engine. 

The screen illuminates to life, your phone automatically connects to the speakers—

“Now playing voicemail from Sunghoon Park.”

The robotic voice interrupts your music. 

Your fingertip hovers over the red button, but before you can end the call.

“Hey.”

His voice comes through the speakers, except this time it’s not commanding.

This time, it’s soft and apologetic.

You let it play. Is this seriously about to be your first apology? 

It takes storming out and sleeping in a hotel to get an '’m sorry'?

“Listen, I know I’m the last person you want to hear from right now. Believe me. No pressure, but if you want to, please…come by the house tonight. We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’m just worried.” 

And after those words, the voicemail disappears.

⋆⋆⋆

Your hands tremble as you stand at your doorstep, fidgeting with your keys.

Sunghoon is the last person who deserves your sympathy. 

But yet the way his voice sounded was so sincere. He called you once, just once, and left that message like he meant it. 

And your heart was tugging at you to go back.

The smell of fresh-roasted vegetables fills the air. Your brows furrow as you shut the door quietly behind you. 

With caution, you stalk towards the kitchen; the entire living room has the overhead lights and lamps lit. You’ve never seen the house so bright. 

Candles warm the space, the rugs? Freshly vacuumed. 

“Hello?” You asked as you stepped into the kitchen. Sunghoon must’ve felt bad enough to at least hire a maid.

But your heart drops when you round the corner. 

“Hey...” Sunghoon replies softly. Food roasting in the oven, the countertops lined with fresh groceries. 

“What are you—is this your way of trying to apologize?” You question, narrowing your gaze as you watch him stand at the stovetop. The sleeves of his dress shirt are rolled up to his elbows. He’s still casually dressed in slacks like he’s just got out of a meeting.

“Y—you came?” He gasps as he sees your tired, tear-stained face in the doorway. 

“Listen, I know this isn’t nearly enough to make up for…everything.” He continues. 

You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms as you glance at him with a stoic expression. Your head is still thumping from all the alcohol and shitty rounds of sleep. 

“I hope you like pasta? I’m ashamed to admit I don’t even know what you like.” Sunghoon concludes as the vegetables simmer over the top of the stove. 

“Pasta is fine.” You reply blankly. Your shoulders are still tense. You scan his every move and calculate your every word. The last thing you want his him using those against you. 

“Could you pass me that olive oil?” He says his voice is tight as he keeps storing the vegetables sizzling on the stove top. 

You hesitate before stepping through the doorframe. Grabbing the olive oil left on one side of the counter, and met him by the stove. 

Sunghoon forces a smile as he takes it, his hands trembling as he tries not to burn the vegetables on the stove. 

“So um…I was honest when I said I don’t know really anything about you. Your favorite food, favorite movie, favorite song—“ Sunghoon mumbles softly as he tosses the food around some more. Once it’s cooked through, he reaches over the hot stovetop to turn off all the appliances. 

“Playing chef isn’t going to undo everything.” You reply weakly, your voice shaky, your head still pounding.

“I know it’s not enough, I'm not really sure anything will be enough to fix this,” Sunghoon replies, the plate in his hands trembling as he loads up two separate plates. 

“You don’t even have to stay if you don’t want to, it’s just—God, when you left last night. It really shook me, I’ve never felt so much regret, so much frustration with myself.” Sunghoon continues, his voice cracking under the pressure as he bends down to open up the oven. 

He pulls out a pan of fresh golden breadsticks, and he puts one onto each plate before he reaches up into the wine cabinet. 

Our heart hammers hard in your chest as he speaks. The two of you sit at the kitchen table. The dark, crafted wood was comically large for the two of you. 

Sunghoon sat at the head, and you joined him at the corner. 

He smiles at you as he sets down two wine glasses. The image immediately pulls you back to the argument of last night. 

You tear your eyes away from him, fingertips fidgeting in your lap. 

Your thumb brushes across your ring finger—a nervous habit.

But there’s no band around your finger. 

“Sunghoon, I guess I could say the same. About you. I mean, I don’t really know anything about you besides the fact that you’re an arrogant dick.” You reply, twirling your fork around your plate before taking a bite. 

“Well, and I guess I don’t really know you besides the fact that you’re hardworking and kind and definitely not deserving of an arrogant dick like me, but you’re eating my cooking right now and I—“ Sunghoon stops himself midway. His own fork was trembling in his hands. 

Your eyes go wide at his confession. You swiftly take another bite of food before your jaw can hit the ground. 

Sunghoon awkwardly clears his throat and shakes his head. His eyes were darting between you, the plate, and—

“How’s the food?” He stammers out frantically.

You swallow the rest of your pasta. Taking a sip of your wine to wash it down. 

“It’s fine, a little salty but edible.” 

“Great, that’s a lot better than I was expecting,” Sunghoon replies as he nervously takes another sip of his drink. 

There’s a quiet beat, the air laced with tension as the sound of silverware on plates clicks through the silence. 

Sunghoon clears his throat. 

“I um, know this marriage wasn’t really a choice. For either of us, but—I think I want to learn how to fall in love.” Sunghoon replies, his voice shaky, trailing off at the end of his sentence. 

Your heart hammers in your chest as you process the words.

“Fall in love?” You ask weakly smiling back at the pure absurdity of his words. 

“Yeah fall in love, with you. My wife. I’m choosing to learn, starting now.” Sunghoon confesses, his face slightly flushed and hot as his clammy hands grip his silverware tight.

“So now I’m your wife?” You bite back. The tension from the fight is still fresh. You want to forgive him deep down, but…

“I want to be the type of man that makes you want to put that ring back on your finger.” He whispers, his eyes softening as he glances over your expression. 

His eyes linger on the color of your eyes, the slope of your nose—

“I guess that starts now, then…” You whisper back half-heartedly as you finish the rest of your plate. 

Without another word, Sunghoon forces a smile, leaning across the table to collect your dishes and his own. 

Sunghoon turned on the faucet as he started to run the plates. Something warm tugged in your chest.

“Need help with those?” You asked softly. Your feet were aching as you stood up from the dinner table. 

“No, no, you don’t have to.” He stammered out, wiping the steam from his brow as he started to scrub the soapy dishes. 

You snuck up behind him and grabbed the soft hand towel resting across his shoulder. His gasp made you snicker as you took the rinsed dishes and dried them.

Sunghoon put the forks back in the drawer as you put the plates away overtop your head. It’s crazy how fast dishes get done with two. 

The tension left in the dark kitchen was nothing short of awkward. 

You caved in, heading up the stairs like every other night before. You stopped in the hall, noticing Sunghoon's room door cracked open slightly. 

The light was left on, and there was a mattress wrapped in fresh plastic leaning against the wall. Half of a bedframe was put together as screws and tools littered the ground. 

Sunghoon’s heavy footsteps stopped right behind you. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck as he noticed what you saw. 

“Rearranging?” You asked playfully as you turned to look at him, his expression wide. 

“No, no, I bought a new bed—and mattress.” He choked out. Sunghoon gently pushed the door open the rest of the way before bending down to pick up a pack of instructions. 

“When I said I wanted to start over, I meant it.” He confessed as he started to scan the room for his next tool. 

Damn, he’s really committed to this bit.

You sank down on one of the lounge chairs. His room was massive. The king-sized mattress looked small in the expanse of it all. There was a large set of windows covered by dark curtains. 

The warm light from the side lamps gave the room a soft, dim glow.

Sunghoon got to work putting the bed together. You watched, eyes lingering on the curves of his biceps as he assembled the wood and steel. 

You just sat there, watching. God, it was so awkward not knowing what to talk about with your own husband. 

“So um..how’s work been?” Sunghoon asked as he tactfully twisted the screws into place. His eyes locked on his hands as they worked. 

“Work was fine. It was fine.” You replied, sinking back into the chair, resting the ache in your back. 

“You were out later than normal,” Sunghoon replied before sticking the screwdriver in his mouth to set two pieces of the bed together. 

He noticed? 

“Yeah I’m I had some extra work thrown at me. One of my coworkers is on maternity leave, so I told the company I’d take her clients.” You replied.

Normally, you wouldn’t share this much, but the atmosphere was already changing. 

“That’s insane of them. Should’ve split the load between the whole department.” Sunghoon replies, glancing over his work at you for just a moment before going back to building. 

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t mind. It just work.” You replied, sitting more casually as you conversed with him. 

“Yeah, but it’s exhausting you. Seriously, do you even have time for anything else?” Sunghoon completes, his voice soft and casual. You can’t help but let your eyes once again trace those biceps you never even noticed before. 

“If I do, I’m too tired by the time I get off.” You shrugged. 

Sunghoon's expression faltered, only for a moment, before his attention went back to focusing on the project at hand.

“Can you help me put the mattress on?” Sunghoon interrupts as he pushes the bed back against the wall. 

You stood up from your chair to help him. The two of you lift the mattress and slide it back down into place. 

“Looks comfy.” You replied as the two of you tore the plastic off the brand new thing. 

“You should join me.” Sunghoon blurts out. His expression widened, cheeks flushing as he realized what he had just said. 

“Excuse me?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“No, no, God, that’s not what I meant. Not sex, unless you want to? I meant like—sleep. Like for real sleep.” Sunghoon stirred. His voice was interrupted by your snickering laugh. 

You laughed softly as he stuttered over his words, all embarrassed like a fool. His face was in shock, disbelief. 

He made you laugh. An honest, real laugh.

And it’s the most perfect sound he’s ever heard. 

⋆⋆⋆

Your hands trembled as you slipped out of your work clothes, tossing them mindlessly onto the ground before slipping into your pajamas. 

Just a plain pair of shorts paired with a white tank. Sunghoon? He’d have to earn the sexy stuff. 

With a quiet pace, you patted down the hall, stopping right at his door. You sucked in a sharp breath as you knocked. 

“Sunghoon, seriously? You’ve been married for over a year now. What’s going on?” 

An older female voice cut through the silence. 

“Mom just..can we not do this now? It’s late.” You heard Sunghoon reply with a frustrated groan. 

You put your ear to the cold door. Listening as the voice came through the speaker. 

Your mother-in-law, of course. She has her reasons. 

“Are you and she even trying? Please tell me you're at least trying for a baby. This timing is unacceptable!" A gruff female voice once again breaks the peace and quiet. 

“That’s none of your business, Mom,” Sunghoon replied, his voice already growing more frustrated the longer your mother-in-law stayed on the line. 

“Don’t tell me she’s having problems conceiving. Is that what this is about? If so, what a waste of—“

“No. You don’t get to talk about her like that. I won’t let you.” Sunghoon shouted. A heavy silence followed. 

Did he just defend you? 

“It’s late. I’m going to bed. And if you throw her name around like that again, I swear you won’t like the outcome.” 

And with a soft beat, the call needed.

The rustling of sheets and footsteps swiftly followed as Sunghoon made his way to the door. 

With a soft click, the door swung open. Sunghoon rested against the doorframe, looking down at you appreciatively. 

You jumped back frantically, looking everywhere but him in an attempt to hide the fact that you were eavesdropping. 

“Hey, are you ready?” Sunghoon asked calmly. 

“Yes, I’m exhausted. Still excited to try out this brand new mattress though.” You replied, trying to hide the confused frown tugging at your lips. 

What could your mother-in-law possibly be about? Kids weren't a part of the deal…or were they? 

Regardless, you hadn’t had proper sleep in how long? The conflict would have to be pushed to the morning. 

“Just let me know if you’re cold…or hot,” Sunghoon replied as he pulled the large, thick comforter back. 

You nodded before walking to the side of the bed. Sliding into the fresh linens. 

The scent flooded your senses, and the blankets were soft against your bare skin.

You turned over your shoulder. Pulling the blankets up to your neck as Sunghoon turned off the lights. 

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness. The sound of cars passing interrupted the otherwise pure silence. 

Sunghoon let out a tired sigh as he joined you. You felt the mattress dip under his weight as he settled next to you. 

God, there was so much space. 

The two of you subconsciously curled up at the corners of the bed. One of your arms hung off the mattress along with one of Sunghoon's legs. 

And between you?

Wide. Empty. space. 

You let your eyes flutter shut. The drag of the day was finally catching up to you now that you were horizontal. 

With a tired sigh, you phased in and out of consciousness. 

And the last thing you felt before you were out was the softness of Sunghoon's hand on your waist. 

⋆⋆⋆

You stirred as the sun poured between the cracks of the window curtains. 

For once, you weren't waking up to a cold, empty bed by the blare of an alarm. 

Sunghoon was still quietly resting behind you. His arm loosely draped around your waist and nothing more. 

You turned over your shoulder to face him. The quiet chirp of the birds outside could be heard in the peacefulness of the morning. 

Sunghoon. 

His lips were softly parted, chest rising and falling with a slow rhythm. His dark hair fell in messy waves against his pale skin. A perfect contrast. 

His thick brows were slightly furrowed as he slept. The slope of his nose–

It made your heart race. 

With a deep breath, Sunghoon stirred awake. You tried to put some inches of distance between you before he realized you were quite literally admiring him while he slept. 

“Good morning,” Sunghoon grunted, his voice still rough from sleep.

“Morning.” You replied casually as you propped yourself up on your elbows. 

Sunghoon glanced at you, shaking his head as his eyes adjusted to the light. 

His gaze traced your face, the curve of your chest. The lines of your body as you lie in bed with him, like you’d done it countless times before. 

“How did you sleep?” He asked, awkwardly clearing his throat before brushing his dark hair off his forehead. 

“Great, actually. The mattress was great.” You replied with a soft smile of disbelief. 

Tension. It was definitely there—simmering in the empty space between you. 

The moment was intimate by nature, the two of you vulnerable in bed together, the domestically of it all. 

Usually, in movies, this is the part where you kiss. 

And more often than not, that kiss turns into more—

The two of you let out a weak laugh. A telling sign you both felt that spark. 

Whatever plan Sunghoon had? You hate to admit it, but it was fucking working. 

“That’s good to hear…” Sunghoon whispered as he closed some of the distance. His hand reached out, eyes wide as he hesitated. 

You gave him a knowing look, soft, almost aching. The tension tugged at your heart…

Sunghoon's hand trembled as he held your waist. Without words, he closed more of that distance…

And soon you were glancing into his dark eyes. Lips parted, so much left unsaid as your heart raced in your chest and your hands trembled at your sides. 

“You really don’t have to try so fucking hard, you know.” You whispered, eyes soft as you glanced at his expression.

It’s like the icy cold exterior of before was starting to melt.

And then he leaned in. Nose brushing against your cheek, the faint lingering of his cologne still dusting across his skin. 

His lips part as they find your own. Sunghoon's breath shakes as he finally presses his lips to your own. 

Your hands hesitate, and your eyes don’t exactly close either. Your heart's racing, and you don’t even know what to do. 

Sunghoon pulls away, just enough for his warmth to leave your lips as he glances into your eyes. 

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t—“

“Sunghoon.” You interrupted, chest coiled tight with a feeling you couldn’t name. 

His gaze softened as he glanced down at you. His chest pressed up against your own, legs tangled together beneath the sheets. 

You hand cupped the side of his face, reveling in the soft sigh that he let out at the gesture. 

Then your fingertips moved, brushing through the dark, messy locks of his hair. 

And then you pulled him in, and your lips found his in a soft, chaste kiss. 

The deep, breathy groan that escaped Sunghoon's throat was everything. His eyes fluttered shut, brows perfectly furrowed as he kissed you back with intent. 

The two of you naturally fell into a rhythm. Lips parting and moving in sync. Your bodies were hot as they started to seek each other out. 

His breathing got heavier as you kissed. Hands teasing, fingertips pushing limits. Gasps that said, 'let this be real.' And touches that burned with an agonizing plea to start over.

Sunghoon broke the kiss to catch his breath. His grip found your waist as he pressed his body up into yours. 

His soft lips found the corner of your lips before they kissed the edge of your jaw. 

You melted into the sheets, head tilting as he kissed down your throat like he’d done it a thousand times before. 

Longing turned to confidence as Sunghoon pulled a weak gasp from your throat. 

That sound alone was enough to turn him on. 

God, what were the two of you missing? This tension, this heat between you was burning hot. All from a kiss?

You gasped as Sunghoon's thumbs brushed against your bare skin. where your top had ridden up just a few inches.

It felt so wrong yet so right. Like something new but also something you’ve been wanting forever in the same. 

You don’t know if you were clouded by longing, hurt, hormones, or a mix of all three.

But something about having your husband on top of you for the first time?

“Tell me to stop.” Sunghoon rasped as he kissed down your neck. His hands were growing more confident with their touch. 

Without realizing, he pressed his hips up into yours, pulling a gasp from both of your lips. 

Your eyes went wide at the gesture. At how bad you wanted it. Even if you’d never truly admit it. 

And there was no way in hell you were telling him to stop. 

Words got caught in your chest as you glanced at him. Finally feeling what you’ve been aching for for all this time.

“Don’t stop.” 

His breath was hot against your skin as he kissed your neck again. Softly, slowly, like he wanted to savor every second. 

Sunghoon's hands slid beneath the edge of your shirt, his thumbs teasing as they brushed across the softness of your skin. 

And then the phone rang. 

Sunghoon groaned with disappointment as he pulled his lips away. 

He kept one hand resting on your waist as he reached over the bedside table. 

“God no…it’s my mother.” Sunghoon groaned. Reluctantly pulling away from your warmth. 

The rang again, and his eyes darted between the screen in his hand and the much more enticing version of you. 

“You should answer it.” You replied softly, voice barely over the sound of a whisper. 

“I guess you’re right…you know how she is,” Sunghoon replied before picking up the phone with a professional hello. 

Before you knew it, he was swiftly headed out of the bedroom, the sounds of his mother's nagging only echoing as the door shut behind him. 

You fell against the pillows, finally letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. 

Here you are, in Sunghoon's bed, the faint woody scent of his cologne still lingering. 

And so was the warmth of his touch. 

⋆⋆⋆

Like always, Monday came around quickly. You stumbled into the office, phone already ringing, a laptop full of emails on the verge of springing open. 

The workload given to you was intense. The office that was usually your solitude started to morph into something else. 

And just as you pulled open your laptop and plugged it in to charge—

Footsteps. 

“Please God no…” You mumbled. The last thing you needed was to get caught up in workplace drama.

“Did you see the pictures of Stephanie’s baby on Facebook?!” Your coworker replied enthusiastically in a tone too loud for the early morning hours. 

You winced, shaking your head before putting on the best fake smile you could manage. 

“I’m not on Facebook…” you replied without even glancing up from your laptop. 

“Oh, right. Well, look, isn’t he adorable? Steph and her husband didn’t even do a gender reveal. Said they wanted it to be a surprise.” Your coworker replied, tilting her phone over your desk to show you. 

You shut your eyes, sucking in a deep breath. 

Don’t overreact, don't overreact. This is totally not the reason you have all these extra clients in the first place—

“That’s so sweet. I’m happy for her.” You replied bluntly before typing away at another invoice. 

“He looks so much like his dad it’s insane.” Your coworker continued. 

“Speaking of…how’s your husband been?” 

You swallowed an audible groan at the attempt of even more small talk.

“Fine, he’s fine, just busy.” You replied again bluntly. Your fingers only hitting the keys of your laptop even harder now. 

“Do you know if he’s coming with you to the office party. I’m kind of in charge of catering food and need a headcount.” She replied. 

Immediately, you were pulled out of your work. Did she just say holiday party? 

“What holiday party?” You asked curiously. Never in all the time you’ve worked at this company have you remembered them hosting a holiday party.

“Yeah, boss wants to start new traditions for the culture or whatever." She replied. “It’s nothing fancy, totally casual.” 

“I see.” You replied, glancing at your bare ring fingers, you thought. 

“I’ll  have to see if he’s available, but for sure put me down on the list.” You smiled weakly. 

“Yes! Perfect, it’s the second Friday before Christmas, 7pm.” She replied, typing out some more information on her phone before bidding you goodbye. 

 “I’ll see you there.” You replied before turning back the the half-written email that you had up on your screen. 

You couldn’t help but feel nervous about bringing the idea up to Sunghoon. 

⋆⋆⋆

The sound of sports on the television hummed softly in the background as you arrived home.

The faint scent of spice lingered in the hair, and the floor was cold against your feet as you kicked off your shoes at the door.

“Sunghoon?” You called out softly as you came down the hall. His car was parked out front. He must’ve gotten home early. 

The light was left on in the kitchen, signaling someone must’ve been home. Like always, you threw down your keys and took off your coat. 

A white sheet of paper was left on the kitchen table. You know you shouldn’t look at your husband's business, but your curiosity got the best of you. 

The sheet was cold and sharp between your fingertips as you picked it up, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Sunghoon wasn’t going to catch you in the act. 

Your heart started to race, your pulse was so heavy you could feel it thumping in your ears. 

He got tested. And everything came back clean. 

It’s almost like you didn’t know how to feel. Mortified? Anxious? Excited? 

The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs quickly put a stop to those thoughts. Before he could see you, you put the packet back down exactly where you found it. 

“You’re home.” Sunghoon smiled, his eyes widening as he saw you standing in the kitchen. 

“Yeah, long day…” You replied, your heart skipping a beat as you saw him round the corner.

“Do you um…want to order dinner? I wasn't really sure if I should cook something.” Sunghoon smiled. 

“Takeout sounds good.” You smiled. God, things were still so fucking awkward between you. Especially after the kiss. 

“I’ll have something delivered. There’s a game tonight, or we can watch a movie if you’re not into that.” Sunghoon replied as he motioned for you to join him on the couch. 

The house felt warm and cozy. A stark contrast to how cold and dark it was just a few weeks ago. 

The dinners, the warm nights. You wanted it to be enough to repair everything. You could see that he really was trying. 

But forgiveness can’t always be bought. Sometimes it has to be repaired. 

And more often than not, that takes two sets of hands.

After Sunghoon ordered the food, you quickly changed into something more comfortable. 

Sunghoon's favorite basketball team was about halfway through their game. You kept your eyes glued to the screen, scared that if you turned and glanced at him, it would bring up every emotion you’ve been trying to bury.

The party. Right, the party.

“Sunghoon?” You whispered, just loud enough to tear his focus away from the game. 

“Yeah?” He replied softly. 

“I know this is probably dumb, but. The office—there is this new tradition, I guess. We’re having a holiday party in a few weeks, and I’m supposed to bring a plus one.” You choked out. 

“A holiday party? Sunghoon asked calmly, raising a thick brow in your direction. 

“Yeah, it’s like stupid, but…there’s free food from the office? And you know, be a part of the culture, I guess.” You replied, heat ran down your neck as you spoke. 

There was a quiet pause. A painful, quiet pause that felt like it went on forever. Knots twisted in your stomach, and nervous sweat ran down your brow.

Sunghoon smiled. He actually smiled. His perfectly straight smile complemented the face you were already starting to become so fond of. 

“Sounds like a good time.” He replied. His dark eyes glancing into your own as he reached out a hand. His touch gently found your skin, his warmth flooding your nerves as he placed his hand overtop your own. 

“And for the record. I don’t think it’s dumb.” 

⋆⋆⋆

The rest of the night was peaceful. The subtle brush of a hand, the way Sunghoon gently wiped the edge of your lips after dinner. 

The tension was thick, the game had gone into overtime, and the two of you kept slipping closer and closer. 

The kiss. 

You still couldn’t get it out of your head. Was it a heat-of-the-moment thing? Sunghoon hadn’t even tried to kiss you since then. You can’t be that bad of a kisser, right? 

“Hey.” 

At the sound of his voice, you nearly jumped off the couch. His soft voice tore through your heart, grounding you in the moment as the noisy game faded into the background. 

“Yeah?” You whispered softly. The air between you is thick. You shifted under yourself against the couch. 

“Can I just…” Sunghoon whispered, his voice barely audible as the edge of his fingertips brushed against your thigh.

The tension sizzled between you. Neither of you spoke, not wanting to risk tearing what was pulsing apart. 

Your eyes met his, heart hammering at the soft and dark look in them. 

As your chest went tight, you couldn’t help but look down, gaze following the shape of his perfect lips. You knew it, and so did he. 

Neither of you could stop thinking about the kiss.

And without another word, Sunghoon's lips were back on yours. 

With a sharp gasp, your soft hands flew to his hair. Gently tangling on the midnight stands as his grip found your waist. Confident, hungry—picking up right where he left off the first morning. 

Sunghoon gently nipped at your bottom lip. Gasping as he pulled away just enough to breathe.

“Shit, I’m sorry I—“ 

“Shut up. Just shut up.” You chuckled, smiling into another heated kiss. 

Your core went tight at the sound of his laugh. A deep chuckle erupting from his chest that spread warmth everywhere his touch had yet to find. 

His hands were gentle as they guided you, his body shifting over top of yours as he lay you down on the couch. 

Sunghoon was lost in you. Lost in your scent, in your warmth, in your entire being. 

Rationality was nowhere to be found. 

Just like before, Sunghoon's hands dipped under the fabric of your shirt. His touch was gentle yet commanding as he started to press his thumbs against your bare skin. 

You gasped into his open mouth at the gesture. Sunghoon only replied by pressing into you more. Moaning as he swallowed the breath from your lungs. 

With a near whimper, Sunghoon broke away. Trailing feather light kisses across your jaw as his hands held you beneath him in place. 

“Kissing you makes me feel…different.” He breathed out. His breath caught as he pulled your body close into his. 

“What’s so different?” You replied. His breath was shaky as his lips dragged across the sensitive ridges of your neck. 

“I don’t know how to explain it. It’s not adrenaline. It’s something else.” Sunghoon whispered, smiling against your skin before he found your hips again. 

You hummed softly as his lips gently melted against your own. Your heart fluttered as he moved with precision. 

After another long moment, Sunghoon pulled away. Resting his forehead against your own as he panted for breath. 

“It’s like I could never get tired of this. Like I could kiss you all night and never want to stop.” He confessed, letting out a breathless laugh as he listened to the words leaving his own tongue. 

Sunghoon smiled against your lips as he leaned in again. His breath hitched as he kissed you light and slow. 

A soft groan vibrated in his throat as he broke away. Only to kiss you harder.

“Fuck” he cursed with a low, pleasured chuckle. His lips brushed softly against your own as he spoke. 

His hands slid further up your base skin. His thumbs traced your sides, feeling every dip and curve.

 “I’m such—God…” Sunghoon cursed as his plump, soft lips tore apart from your own. His hot body pressed into yours, pulling a gasp from your lips. 

“I’m such a fucking idiot…” he whispered with a self-deprecating tone as his lips dragged softly down your neck. 

His grip on your waist tightened as the air coiled tight. 

“This whole time I could’ve—we could’ve…” Sunghoon panted, his breath hot as it fanned softly beneath your ear. 

He places a chaste kiss on the soft skin there. He hesitated before he pulled away to glance into his eyes. 

“Sunghoon…what are you—“

“I heard it. You crying. Every single night.” He confessed, his voice shaking as a hand left your body to cup the side of your face. 

He glanced down at you, his expression soft as the pad of his thumb gently brushed across your cheek. 

“I—I wasn’t crying.” You lied as all the memories came back. Your heart twisted. You couldn’t do this, not now. Now, when things were finally taking a step in the right direction. 

Sunghoon took a sharp breath in. His soft, dark eyes grew glassy as he fought back tears. 

“You were crying. Because of me.” Sunghoon choked out. His expression turned pained. Like the fact in itself struck a hole through his heart. 

“And I did nothing.” He whispered. His voice was so soft you could barely hear it over the sound of your own breathing. 

“All I’ve done is hurt you. Because I was angry, and I don’t know what else to do. I felt trapped. At first, I didn't want this.” Sunghoon confessed. The silence between you was loud; desolate tears pooled in the corner of his eyes as he looked at you. 

This soft, innocent woman, he just had his lips on.

A woman who, despite it all, did only the right things. 

Tears fell harder from his face as he continued. Your throat closed up as he failed to hold back a sob. 

“I slept with other people…you didn’t deserve that. You never, ever deserved that. Not from me, not from anyone.” Sunghoon cried as his other hand now found your face. 

He studies you through tears, his lip quivering as his fingertips brush across your perfect lips. 

“And I know you saw the papers too.” He swallowed sharply. Inhaling deeply as he tried to gauge your reaction. 

“What papers?” You questioned softly, hot tears pooling in your own eyes as your heart sank into your chest.

“I got tested. For everything. Came back clean.” Sunghoon choked out. 

He leaned in, his breath ghosting across your lips as his warm tears fell onto your cheeks. 

“And the crazy part? That’s the bare fucking minimum. A whole year and just now I have enough sense to show some basic human decency.” He confirmed. 

The air between you grew silent. The void only getting torn apart by a sharp sob from both of you. 

Sunghoon sobbed again, the sound itself so painful it nearly tore your heart apart. 

“I’m so fucking sorry.” Sunghoon cried, breaking down as his forehead rested against yours. 

“You’re my wife. And I touched someone else.” Sunghoon cried, his chest tightening as all the guilt spilled over. 

“And I think cooking you a half-burned dinner is going to fix it.” He rasped out. The tears slowly came to a painful stop. 

You didn’t even realize how much you were crying, too. How much were you hurting. All the memories came back, the name-calling, the dismissal. 

“I should’ve held you in my arms this entire time…you should’ve walked out on me a year ago.” He continued, his lips parting as he only pulled away to weakly wipe his tears. 

You glanced up at him with a tear-stained gaze. Your hands moved without even thinking. 

Softly, you gently wiped away his tears. Your fingertips lingering for just a moment—

That kind reaction? It only made him break down more.

“I’m so fucking sorry…I’m sorry for it all.” Sunghoon panted before he closed the distance, his lips finding yours in a hot, heated kiss. 

You kissed him back, hands moving everywhere that you felt they weren’t allowed before. His breath was hot, and whimpers and moans only grew louder. 

“Wait..” he panted against your lips, his breath hitching as your palms slid down his chest. 

You were equally as needy. His confession, his lips, and his touch all came crashing down at once. 

The sound of your lips leaving his echoed in the quiet night. You still lingered close, feeling the strength of his chest beneath your fingertips.

“We’re moving too fast,” Sunghoon whispered, almost like he was trying to convince himself. 

“You think we’re moving too fast?” You asked curiously. 

“I just don’t want our first time to be like this. I don’t want to be full of guilt and regrets.” Sunghoon continued. 

“I want it to be out of trust and love. And I know it’ll take time—but if you’ll have me? I’d never ask for anything else in this world ever again.” 

“And I mean that, from the bottom of my heart, I mean every fucking word.” He choked out with a gentle sob. 

It almost felt like too much. Were things moving too fast? What if he didn’t actually mean it? He had to have some kind of anterior motive. 

But when you glanced into his eyes, all you saw was something broken. A man who was lost, with nowhere else to go. 

You saw it yourself, the meals, the test. The way his arm drifted across your waist as he slept. The way he didn’t press you for anything more—

The way his eyes didn’t leave yours the entire time he confessed. This was your marriage on the line. 

Not his money, not your body. You and only you. 

You and only you are what he was pleading for.

It felt like barbed wire was tightening around your throat as you spoke. It’s like you weren't even thinking. Your heart knew it before your consciousness could even manage. 

“I forgive you.” 

Your voice, hushed and whispered, hit him harder than he could’ve imagined. The words laced with truth, and longing for something that could’ve been this entire time. 

“You don’t have to do that.” Sunghoon rebuttals, his voice shaking like he couldn’t believe how true your words felt in his heart. 

“I want to. Because I—“

“I’m starting to fall in love with you.” You replied. It’s true.

Why else did you go back when he called? Why else did you stay? He didn’t deserve another chance, yet you gave it to him. Deep down, you knew the only reason why. 

It was because you loved him. At least you were starting to.

Sunghoon kissed you, deeper than he ever had before. It was hungry, needy—he poured everything into his breath that he could say with words. 

“And I’m starting to fall in love, for the first time in my entire fucking life.” He chuckled at the absurdity of it. 

“I’m falling deeply in love with you. And I have no plans of stopping.”

Sunghoon pulled away, his flushed ears peaking through the strands of his midnight hair. 

He smirked with disbelief as his hand slid to find your own. His fingertips slot perfectly against yours. 

“Will you come to bed with me?” He asked with a hushed whisper.

“I—I-I…” you choked out, overwhelmed by all the unspoken applications of it.

“We don’t have to do anything. I just want you close.” Sunghoon confessed as you glanced into his eyes. Searching and needy.

“Yeah. I’ll come.” You replied softly. The corners of your lips tugged into a smile before you even noticed it. 

Sunghoon cut out the lights before guiding you up the stairs and down the hall.

The hall that you cried down so many times, the door to his room that you used to stand outside of full of only dread. 

But not anymore. 

The two of you climbed into the king-sized bed together. Except this time, the two of you don’t bother to leave any space. 

The woody scent you’d grown to love filled your senses. Sunghoon's strong biceps were warm against your skin as his arm rested across the curve of your hip. 

And the two of you drifted off to sleep wrapped up in each other's arms. 

⋆⋆⋆

The holiday party was all the office cared to talk about. Seems like the bosses' plan to change the work culture seemed to be working out. 

The night of the party, you came home to change and grab your plus one. 

“Sunghoon? You almost ready?” You called out from the kitchen as you set down your keys and phone like muscle memory. 

“Almost.” He called out from the top floor of the house. His voice muffled as it traced through the rooms and down the hall. 

Just as you turned to head up the stairs yourself, a perfectly wrapped box caught your attention. 

The tag hung off the side of the box as it sat on the dinner table. You stalked closer, curiosity getting the best of you despite the time crunch. 

You lifted the tag between your fingertips. Reading your name scribbled across the tag in Sunghoon's handwriting. 

A gift? For you?

Footsteps caught your attention as Sunghoon came down the stairwell. His dark hair was perfectly styled to frame his features. He smelled like fresh cologne and just the perfect amount of lingering musk. 

“That’s for you.” Sunghoon smiled as he wrapped his arms around your shoulders. 

“From who?” You questioned with a contagious smile.

“From me. Go on, open it.” 

Your fingertips trembled as you pulled at the smooth ribbons of the box. 

The sound of wrapping paper tore through the air as you unraveled the gift, heart racing with anticipation of what could possibly be left inside. 

You could hardly breathe as your eyes fixated on what was in the box. 

A necklace. Dazzling, catching the dim kitchen lights. It was delicate and classy. The diamonds perfectly embedded in the silver. 

Sunghoon smiled as his hands slid around your waist. His breath was warm against your ear, his breath shaking as he whispered. 

“Go ahead and get dressed. I can’t wait to see you in it.” 

There was a sharp pause as your heart raced between your ears. 

“This is beautiful, wow…thank you.” You replied as you set the delicate jewelry back into the box.

Sunghoon hummed softly before he pressed his lips to your neck. His touch is featherlight, just below your ear. 

His touch lingered across your waist before he let you go. The tension between you was already so thick. 

Sunghoon leaned against the counter, watching from behind as you made your way up the staircase. 

The minute you got to your room, you locked the door, letting out a breath you didn’t even realize was caught in your throat. 

Piece by piece, you stepped out of your work clothes. 

Your fingertips brushed against the cool satin of your dress as you pulled it over your hips. The ruby red caught the light in a gentle sheen. 

The hem of the tea-length dress stopped a few inches above the ankle. Your hands shook as you reached behind yourself. Biceps straining as you fumbled with the zipper. 

“Goddamit..” you cursed under your breath as you struggled to get a good grip on it. You twisted over your other shoulder for a better shot. 

It was no luck. The metal zipper slipped out of your fingertips once again, leaving the back of your dress hanging wide open. 

The vigorous attempts had you out of breath. With a sharp exhale, your palms found the polished mahogany wood of your dresser. 

After a few long moments of recovery, you tried again. Arms aching as you reached behind to grab the tiny zipper.

“Fuck…” you cursed as the zipper once again slipped through your trembling fingertips. 

Just as you shook out the knots in your arms, a soft knock came from the other side of the door. 

“You almost ready?” Sunghoon called out.

“Yeah, just…getting dressed still.” You replied, grunting as you tried to pull the zipper again. 

You let out a defeated sigh. Trembling as you called out. 

“Can I get some help, actually? The zipper to my dress is stuck and I—“

Before you could even explain yourself, Sunghoon was coming through the door. 

His breath caught as he saw you standing there, the straps of your dress hanging off your shoulders. The skin of your back is open and exposed. 

“Hold still.” Sunghoon muttered, his voice soft as he swiftly closed the distance between you two.

His hands hesitated before they found the zipper resting dangerously low on your back. 

You pushed your hair out of the way in a weak attempt to distract yourself from the warmth of his touch. 

As his fingertips pulled the zipper up, you couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath. 

“There…” Sunghoon muttered, completely breathless as he spun you around by the forearms.

“Thank you…” You replied before nervously smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in the fabric of your dress. 

Sunghoon smiled, his eyes softening as he glanced at you in that stunning ruby red gown. 

His hand reached out, gently wrapping your fingers in his own. 

You just watched, breath hitching as high slowly guided your hand to his lips. 

Sunghoon gently kissed the back of your hand. His lips are featherlight against your skin. 

The scene of his eyes fluttered shut and his lips pressed to your skin made you flustered.

“You look beautiful.” Sunghoon choked out. The words were nearly crippling as they fell from his lips. 

"Thank you." You replied, smiling softly as he admired your figure, lips parted in nothing but awe.

Sunghoon licked his lips, his eyes giving you one last look—

"The necklace…" He whispered as he noticed the torn box resting peacefully on the edge of your dresser.

He reached around you to take the diamonds out of the box. His fingers worked with delicacy as he put the silver around your neck.

You nearly gasped as the cold metal of the jewelry hit your skin. Sunghoon was focused as he adjusted the length, letting the pendant hang perfectly across your collarbone.

"God, you look so fucking perfect," Sunghoon whispered as he spun you around, letting you glance at yourself in the large mirror from across the room.

Your reflection stared back at you. The two of you dressed to perfection, the way his hands lingered on your waist—

"I mean it…" Sunghoon whispered, his voice dropping an octave as his hand gently cupped your jaw.

His fingertips were soft as they guided you with his touch. His lips found yours again—soft and chaste. His lips just dared to take more before he broke away with a gasp.

"I think it's time to go." You whispered, clearing some of the tension from your throat as you glanced at the clock on the wall.

"You're right. You ready?" Sunghoon smiled before his touch dropped from your skin, leaving you with a shiver of cold.

"Never been more ready." You replied, following him out of your room and down the hall.

A year ago, you would've never imagined walking hand in hand with him down the same hall that broke you apart. 

And for the first time ever, his touch doesn't feel like it's to prove a point.

⋆⋆⋆

The drive to the venue was peaceful. Your breath fanned against the glass windows as you looked at the decorations outside. 

Houses and lamp posts were lined with twinkling white and red lights. The streets were bustling with people frantically shopping for the holidays. 

"Wow…didn't know we had the budget for this." You whispered as you finally arrived at the address. 

The hotel was nothing short of luxury. Floors and floors of windows expanded beyond you could see into the night sky. 

The valet was already waiting to take the car. Sunghoon passed the keys before swiftly stepping around the front of the car to let you out. 

He offered his hand, the ghost of his breath visible in the cold as he stood out in the open air.

Warmth surged through your heart as you took his hand in yours. Sunghoon gave it a comforting squeeze before pulling you along.

The faint smell of pinewood mixed with peppermint flooded your senses as Sunghoon led you to the conference room.

Loud, muffled chatter could already be heard from the other side of the door. 

Sunghoon finally let go of your hand as he pushed open the double doors. 

The room was modestly decorated. Garland and lights hung by the crown molding of the walls. Christmas trees were perfect and pristinely filled as they lined the walls.

"Wow, so this really is where the budget went." You whispered under your breath as you took in the scenery.

Sunghoon chuckled as the two of you entered the room. 

"Oh my God, he's real!" Your coworker announced, setting down her drink before she closed the distance between you two.

"Yeah, he's real. This is my husband, Sunghoon," You replied as you introduced him. The title rolling easily off your tongue.

"Nice to meet you." Your coworker replied professionally, giving the two of you a casual nod.

"There are drinks over there, like small treats and stuff, too. Help yourself! You know if we don't eat it all it's going to rot in the breakroom for weeks." She replied before another professionally dressed man came into view.

"Right you are." You replied, watching as the man you knew to be her husband wrapped his arms around her lovingly.

The atmosphere was casual, just as planned. There was a mixture of small talk and exquisite laughter. The crowd seemed to talk about all things work and family.

"Sunghoon, is it? I'm Jake from accounting." Your other coworker introduced him self professionally before extending a hand.

"Nice to meet you," Sunghoon replied before giving Jake a firm handshake in return. He was definitely in his element, charming all the guests with his practiced charisma. 

As the two talked business, the details flew right over your head. Ever now and then, you would pick up a phrase or two. 

"We're up twenty two percent from the last quarter—" You heard Sunghoon reply, the words and numbers holding no actual weight. 

The only thing you could focus on was his stance, his confidence, the way his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

Your eyes lingered on his every movement, watching the veins in his forearms as he shifted his drink in his hand.

"Yeah, my wife and I are trying to figure out our next step, you know? Our company offers a generous amount of maternity leave, so we're trying to plan accordingly." Jake said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The name of your company brought you back into the conversation.

Work, right. This was a work party.

"Wow seems like good benefits. I see why my wife is in no rush to leave." Sunghoon replied casually before taking another sip of his drink.

"We won't have to worry about taking out that benefit anytime soon if you know what I mean," Sunghoon replied with a cheeky smirk.

"What?" You muttered under your breath, your hand hesitant as your grip around his arm loosened.

"Ah honeymoon phase is long gone by now, isn't it?" Jake replied. Earning a deep chuckle from Sunghoon.

"Oh yeah, we've been going through a dry spell, we're lucky if anything can happen before she knocks out for the night. Maternity leave won't be on my mind for a while—"

"Sunghoon." You interrupted, pulling your grip completely away from his arm at his response.

"What I'm just telling the truth, you pass out the second your head hits the pillow." Sunghoon defended, putting his arms up in false surrender.

Your jaw locked with frustration. For one night, can't he just behave?

"Sheesh, twelve months in and things are only going downhill in the bedroom department?" Jake replied. Earning another deep, charismatic laugh out of Sunghoon.

"Tell me about it," Sunghoon replied, smiling before taking another sip of his drink.

You were fuming. The heat was hot as it ran down your neck. You had to get out of there before you did something that would cost you your job for good.

With a shallow attempt at a deep calming breath, you turned on your heel. The door out clear in your sights.

Your palms and heels were sweating, and the lights and decorations all of a sudden felt suffocating.

"Let me grab your contact, and I'll get you in touch with the rep for—wait!" Sunghoon called out as you walked away. His attention dropped from Jake completely as he watched you leave.

"Shit,” Sunghoon cursed under his breath as he left his half-full cup on a nearby table before following you out.

The hotel door slammed hard behind you. The air had grown colder, bitter against all the bare skin exposed by the design of your dress.

“Wait!” Sunghoon called out, reaching out to grab your hand before you forcefully pulled it away.

“I’m going home.” You commanded. Feeling the air between you freeze as you waited for the car.

“What are you feeling okay?” Sunghoon asked kindly, his voice and expression soft as he studied you.

Jaw tight, tears threatening to spill at any moment.

You crossed your arms over your chest for warmth as you waited for the valet. 

“Can we not do this here?” You spat out more pained than venomous.

“Do what? Are you cold?” Sunghoon asked before taking off his blazer and putting it over your shoulders.

His cologne filled your senses, and you were so angry. It felt like your heart was being torn apart between all the memories of the past weeks. It felt like the Sunghoon in that conference room was a completely different person.

“You just don’t know when to stop talking, do you?” You choked out, hot tears falling down your frozen cheeks as the valet pulled the car to the hotel door.

Sunghoon went quiet, letting out a sharp breath as he retrieved the keys before hopping back into the driver's seat.

“That Jake guy—”

“Don't.” You replied, slamming the door to the passenger seat hard before Sunghoon pulled out of the parking lot.

The two of you didn’t speak the entire ride home. Somehow, you mutually knew that would only make things worse.

You questioned everything as you stared out the window. Your job, this marriage, the repair you thought had been mended.

The minute you got through the door, you kicked off your heels.

“Look, whatever I did or said—I’m sorry, okay? I can’t fix this if you won’t talk to me,” Sunghoon pleaded. Locking the door behind him as you stumbled into the dark house. 

“You humiliated me! In front of everyone! Like I don’t already have a hard time at work as it is.” You cried out, tearing his blazer off your shoulders before tossing it vigorously to the floor. 

“I’m sorry…” Sunghoon whispered, his expression turning soft, his movements hesitant, before he stepped closer. 

“You say that a lot these days.” You replied. Smearing makeup across your face as you wiped your tears with the back of your hand. 

“Trust me, I know that.” Sunghoon relied before letting his hands hold the sides of your face. 

Your heart shattered. His own eyes were glassy as he held back tears. You couldn’t help but sob. 

“I—I was just wanting them to like me. I guess I was just trying to look relateable, I didn’t mean to—“

You sucked in a sharp breath as you listened to his words. Your breath was shaky as he held you close to his chest. 

“Hurt you. It feels like that’s the only thing I’m good at.” Sunghoon replied, choking back a sob as his hands dropped from the sides of your face. 

A cold shiver went down your spine at the loss of his touch. 

“But I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I can’t bear to do that,” Sunghoon confessed, his fingertips trembling as he slowly removed the top button of his shirt. 

You let the tears fall as your arms stayed crossed tight over your chest. 

You watched as Sunghoon kicked off his shoes before tossing his car keys on the kitchen counter. 

“Come on. We’re not ending the night like this.” Sunghoon replied, his voice commanding his hand sought out yours again. 

You hesitated before letting your fingertips thread between his own. The gesture made your heart ache with warmth, his touch soothing the cool chill of your skin. 

He led you up the dark stairs before swiftly pushing the door to his room open. 

You sank down onto the bed. You just sat there and stared, legs and knees too weak to move on. 

Sunghoon rolled up his sleeves up to his elbows before he turned on one of his bedside lamps. A soft, warm glow was cast across the room, leaving dramatic shadows across both of your faces.

Sunghoon fell to his knees, his breath sharp as he reached out to brush his fingertips across your thigh. 

“Let me make this right,” Sunghoon whispered, his voice husky and deep as his grip slightly tightened. 

“You made this….us. You played it off as a joke.” You choked out. Your words were harsh, but in the same you couldn’t muster up the strength to brush him off.

“I know, I know…” Sunghoon replied with a shaky breath. 

“Tell me how this feels,” Sunghoon whispered as he wiped away your tears. He leaned in, his breath shaking as his lips hovered above yours. 

You sniffled quietly, but you didn’t pull away. His touch was calming, comforting. And despite everything—

You couldn’t resist.

His lips found yours softly. His touch was so delicate, he kissed you as if at any moment you could break.

And that might have been the truth. 

With a soft whimper, you kissed him back. Warmth spread throughout your body as his lips moved slowly and gently against yours. 

It felt like his touch was healing the wounds from the inside out. Every breath, every gasp, every shutter was stitching up the tears between your hearts. 

You fell into a slow rhythm of push and pull. Sunghoon's hands slid further up your thigh as his lips fell away from yours with a gentle suck. 

The satin fabric of your dress was smooth beneath his fingertips as he subconsciously inched it higher and higher. 

With a weak gasp, Sunghoon tore himself from your lips, panting for breath as he peppered fragile kisses beneath your jaw. 

You tilted your head as he kissed your neck. Taking his time, savoring the angle you just opened up for him to mark. 

“Better?” Sunghoon replied as he pulled away from your skin, leaving behind a faint mark. 

“Better.” You replied, pulling him back into your embrace. 

Your back fell against the mattress as Sunghoon climbed onto the bed. His body seeking out yours with devotion. 

His grip trembled as he pulled apart the next button of his shirt, flashing a sliver of perfectly pale skin beneath. 

His forearms crashed on either side of your head before his lips were back on yours. Hot and hungry, moving with an intensity that wasn’t there before. 

“Oh my God…” Sunghoon panted against your lips. He sucked in a sharp breath as his lips softly brushed back against your own. 

He smiled into another kiss, letting his hips drop in the process. 

You gasped as his hips rolled softly into your own. Just barely, like he himself wasn’t sure of just how far this was going to go. 

“You tell me to stop. I stop…” Sunghoon whispered. His voice was low and raspy as his lips dragged back down your skin. 

Sunghoon's hands pushed the dress further up your thighs. His mouth dragged down your neck before finding its place at your collarbone. 

“Sunghoon..” you moaned. Actually moved as his thumb barely brushed the inside of your thigh.

“Fuck…” he cursed, the top of his ears flushing red at your strangled noises. All brought on by the nature of his touch. 

“My name never sounded better.” 

Sunghoon pulled away to glance into your eyes. His fingertips stopped high on your thigh. 

“I need you to tell me just how far you want this to go,” Sunghoon questioned, his voice shaking as he held back. 

Your chest tightened as you met his gaze. In that moment, the world felt so small. The only thing that mattered was your husband on top of you. The woes of the party and the past were a fleeting thought in the midst of the heat. 

You let out another shah breath, your eyes locked on him and only him before you replied—

“All the fucking way.”

“So you’d let me taste you?” Sunghoon smirked against your skin as his fingertips slipped dangerously high. 

You gasped at his touch, hips lifting off the mattress from just how needy you were. 

And you couldn’t control it. 

It has been so long since you’ve been touched like this. So long since someone—anyone had wanted to make you feel this way. 

And you couldn’t imagine being beneath anyone else. 

“Go ahead…” you replied. Biting back the smile on your lips as Sunghoon pushed the red dress up over your hips. 

You shivered at the cold as he exposed your bare legs and thighs. You shifted nervously under him, but his touch was firm and grounding. 

Sunghoon panted as his fingertips reached between your thighs. Peeing away the delicate fabric already stuck to your damp folds. 

He cursed under his breath at the sight, his jaw fell open as he discarded your panties to the floor. 

“Holy shit…” Sunghoon cursed as he saw you completely bare for the first time. 

Your heart was beating fast. All you could do was lie there and let him stare, let him savor you and everything your body had to offer. 

“You’re beautiful,” Sunghoon whispered softly before he kneeled between your thighs. 

You let out a self-deprecating chuckle as you helped spread your legs. Opening yourself up to him even more. 

Sunghoon's hands slid slowly up the back of your thighs. His lips followed his touch as he kissed between them tenderly. 

Every nip and suck made you shudder. Sunghoon couldn’t help but hold you down to the mattress as he marked and claimed you as his own. 

He left small bruises between your legs, his breath stopping right before he reached where you needed him most. 

And without another word, his mouth found you. 

You gasped deeply at his touch; his touch was soft as he ran a shallow stripe between your folds. He lapped softly at your core like you were something delicate.

“Sunghoon.” You whimpered shamelessly. Your head hitting the pillows as he left you spread wide open. His tongue flicking between your damp folds.

His eyes flicked up to meet your own as his mouth lapped at your pussy. He was already drunk on you, on your scent, on your taste.

“Fuck…you taste amazing.” Sunghoon groaned into your pussy. His fingertips dug into the soft skin of your thighs as he gently lapped at your entrance. His eyes rolled back at the taste before he explored you more. 

“Oh fuck—“ you cursed as you felt the tactical flicks of his tongue. Sunghoon was studying you. Every flinch and gasp he pulled from you only dragged him on more.

Sunghoon gripped you tight as his lips found your clit. His tongue ran lazily around the bus as he savored you. He flicked at the slower nub with shallow, teasing licks—

“Fuck!” You cried out even louder at his motions. Your thighs trembled as he let his focus lock on that sensitive aching bud. 

With a deep groan, your fingertips slid down to thread in the midnight strands of his hair. The softness helped to ground you, keeping you from slipping out of consciousness from his efforts. 

Sunghoon let out a primal groan as your hips bucked softly into his face. One of his hands slid from your thighs to the lower part of your stomach to hold you down as he continued to feast. 

You cried out his name. Shuddering against his mouth as he held you down. Heat pooled low in your stomach where he was holding you down. Sweat ran down your back as your hot skin melted into the cool sheets.

“Sunghoon I—“ “Don’t hold back.” Sunghoon groaned into your dripping cunt. His lips found your clit again, placing flat, thick stripes against it before sealing his mouth around it. 

“Oh my god…” You whimpered, hips lifting off the dampened sheets to chase his tongue. You didn’t even realize how hard you were pulling at his hair. 

Sunghoon let out a satisfied groan as he felt your thighs trembling against his ears. He was completely lost in it all. 

His eyes fluttered shut as he savored the desperate pleas from your lips; he took it all in. Your taste, your smell, the softness of your skin beneath his grip. 

“Sunghoon!” You cried out, thighs trembling, hips bucking sharply against his mouth. 

Your toes curled as he pushed you over the edge with nothing more than his tongue. You felt one lick, then two, before the rhythm had you gasping for air. 

You came hard. His tongue fucking youthrough your orgasm like it was second nature. Arousal rushed through your body like the aftermath of a broken dam. 

You shamelessly coated his tongue as you came. Waves of your glistened arousal coated his lips and chin. 

After what felt like eternity, your body started to come back down from the high. The grip you had on Sunghoon started to loosen as your thighs found their place back on the mattress. 

Sunghoon continued to eat you out through your orgasm. His mouth kisses you through every shutter and writhes. 

When you fell lip against the sheets, Sunghoon released his grip. Giving your cunt a few short licks before he came up for air. 

You watched breathless, chest tight as he wiped your come from his lips with the back of his hand. 

His tongue then darted out to savor the rest before he climbed back up your body. 

Without another word, his lips were back on yours. A deep growl escaped from his throat as his body pushed impatiently into your own. 

You kissed him back, letting your lips move hot and slow against his own while your hands worked to remove the buttons of his shirt. 

Sunghoon shirked against your lips in response. His breath caught as he took your lips in his, the taste of you mingling with the scent of him. 

“Do you have any idea how good you taste?” Sunghoon confessed, breathless against your lips as you peeled away the layers of his shirt. 

The dim light cast soft shadows across his bare figure, highlighting the muscles and curves of his arms.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you,” Sunghoon whispered as he tossed his shirt to the ground. His hands were immediately back on your body. Brushing against the cool red satin.

“I've wanted something real…I never thought you’d want me like this, and I guess that’s why the joke—“

“Shh…” you replied. Your expression, soft as your fingertips, cupped the sides of his face. 

Sunghoon let out a soft whimper at your touch. With an intimate gasp, he turned his head to brush his soft lips against the inside of your palm. 

“I know I either talk too much or not enough…I’m a complete fucking wreck.” Sunghoon chuckled with a self-deprecating tone. 

Your lips dropped into a slight frown as you held him. 

“Hey, look at me…” You whispered, watching as your thumbs brushed gracefully across the soft angles of his cheeks. 

“Remember all those weeks ago. When you called me back after I stomped out.” You replied, remembering the moment all too vividly. 

“How could I forget? I saw you, I saw everything just crumbling apart.” Sunghoon replied, letting his dark eyes finally lift to meet your own. 

“You told me you wanted to learn to love me.” You replied. Sucking in a sharp, shaky breath before you continued.

“I do…God, you’re already my everything,” Sunghoon replied, kissing your palm again before meeting your gaze. 

“I don't want you to feel like you have fix everything…” You whispered intimately. Voice so soft you almost couldn’t hear it over the sharpness of his breath. 

“It’s all my fault, though…the reason you're hurt, the reason you’ve been hurting.” Sunghoon continued, letting his head drop to your shoulder as he pulled you in close. 

“Sunghoon. Do you love me? Because I swear to god if you do? If this is real?”

“I love you. I fucking love you. You’re my wife, my everything.” Sunghoon interrupted. His voice was sharp without a stutter. 

He lifted his head to kiss you again. Heated and messy with no coordination, only sheer desperation. 

“Then let’s make this real.” You replied. Lifting your hips to meet his own. 

Sunghoon's eyes widened as he got the message. After all this time of push and pull of waiting—

His hands immediately went to the back of your dress. You sat up just enough for him to pull the zipper down. His fingers were hot and trembling. 

He pulled back, glancing at you lovingly before pushing the fabric down your shoulders. 

Sunghoon couldn’t help but watch in awe as each inch of skin was revealed. Slowly, he took his time peeling away the layers one by one. 

Your dress was soon discarded alongside his shirt. The two of you fell against the bed so naturally. Bodies melting together like two perfect pieces of a puzzle.

Your legs parted as his hips fell against your own. You couldn’t help but wimper at the feeling of his hard, heavy cock being held back. 

Sunghoon returned your smirk as he grinded down softly, just giving you a preview of what he had to offer. 

“So we’re really doing this? Are you sure this is what you want?” Sunghoon whispered as your hands found his waist. Sliding to the front of his pants.

“I want this more than anything.” You relied, biting your lips as you pulled down the zipper. 

Sunghoon moaned softly as your knuckles grazed his cock. God, he was so sensitive already. The two of you knew this wasn’t going to last long. 

You felt heat rush to your head as you finally freed him. Pushing his boxers and pants down past his thighs. 

Sunghoon kicked off his clothes, letting them fall somewhere he paid no mind to.

His cock was already thick with need. Flushed and leaking at the tip. Precome slapped against his stomach as his cock sprang free. 

You trembled at the sight. He was so big—

“You can take it. I know you can.” Sunghoon replied softly as he saw the shock and worry on your face.

He leaned in. Kissing you as his hands guided you into position. 

“Can’t believe it took you a year to realize…” Sunghoon chuckled at your response to his size. 

“If I realize beforehand? We would’ve fucked along time ago.” You teased back with a smile. 

Sunghoon tore his lips from your own, letting them latch beneath your jawline as his hips settled against yours. 

“I guess we’re going to have to make up for lost time,” Sunghoon replied as his cock slid between your hot, slick folds. 

Sunghoon's jaw fell open as he felt you already so wet from his touch and your orgasm. 

“Shit, I’m not gonna last,” Sunghoon confessed with a breathy laugh. His hands slid between your bodies, lining up his cock and adjusting the angle of your thighs. 

“Don’t care. I’ll take that as a compliment.” You replied confidently, letting Sunghoon push your thighs apart just right. 

You gasped as he notched the top of his cock in your entrance. Slowly letting his hands slide across your skin before he penetrated your hole. 

“Ah—it’s a lot.” You moaned. The feeling of just his tip had your toes curling against the sheets. 

“This is the only time I want you hurting from now on…” Sunghoon grunted as he pushed in another inch. 

“Fuck.” Your back arched off the bed as you shouted another curse. Sweat started to pool at your brow, and he was hardly even halfway into your cunt. 

“Fuck you feel unreal…I’m already gone for this pussy.” Sunghoon groaned, shifting his grip on the sheets on either side of your head. 

You glanced into his eyes, your nose brushing against his as he shifted further in. The rim of your entrance is burning at the invading stretch. 

“Shit—I’m seriously already about to come,” Sunghoon whispered against your lips with a grin. His hands tightened around your thighs, pushing them back towards your chest. 

He opened you up enough to take him; his lips softly kissed you through every moan as he filled you to the brim. 

You felt tears pooling in your eyes as his heavy cock finally thrusted all the way inside your wet, warm walls. 

“You still with me?” Sunghoon asked, lifting a hand to cup your cheek as he started to move. 

The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard tapping the wall with every thrust of his hips.

Sunghoon panted, breathless and euphoric as you took every single one of his inches and ridges. 

Your tits bounced with the force of his thrusts. Sunghoon watched from above, his gaze lingering on how perfect you looked all laid out and full of him.

Your hands clawed at the back of his shoulders as you pulled him close. The heat is finally satisfying in the best way as your bodies are molded together as one. 

Sunghoon watched you with an expression nothing short of awe. After a moment, he dropped his forehead against your own. 

You whimpered as his hands slid down your body, helping to angle your hips just right. He thrusted into you slowly and deeply, groaning with pleasure as you pulsed around him. 

It felt so right. His touch, his words, his glances. 

And for the first time, you truly felt seen. 

Sunghoon panted as he kissed you again, taking the air from your lungs. His hips were gentle yet precise. Every moment is calculated to prolong your pleasure. 

You didn’t even know what to say. All you could do was hold him close as he whispered sweet praise against your skin. 

He pulled an airy gasp from your lips as he thrust deep into your heat. The tip of his cock tapping against your cervix—the gesture making your thighs clench.

“Ah, Sunghoon.” You moaned, letting your hands slide through his hair and across his skin with no direction. 

Sunghoon bit down hard on his lip as you clenched around him. Your wetness drips down the inside of your thighs from the force of his thrusts. 

“Too much?” He questioned, gripping the sheets roughly as he pulled his hips back.

“Just enough.” You replied, letting your hands slide down his body to pull him back into you. 

Sunghoon let out a breathless laugh as he continued. His abdomen tightened, his pace faltering. 

He was close. 

“I’m—shit I’m close you feel too fucking good.” Sunghoon laughed with disbelief, his hips shuddering above you once more. 

“Will you come inside?” You asked, eyes widening as the words left your mouth without even thinking. 

“Yes. Hell fucking yes.” Sunghoon smiled against your lips as he kissed you senseless. His grip tightened around you as he drove faster into your cunt.

“I love you so fucking much.” Sunghoon gasped, his jaw falling open as he drove into you one last time before he came. 

Heavy breaths fell from his lips as he filled you with his come. The moment was so tender and intimate, the only thing you could feel was him painting your walls with evidence of himself. 

After a few short thrusts, Sunghoon fell limp against your shoulder. The two of you are basking in the aftershocks, full of nothing but pleasure.

You kissed his head, taking your fingertips through the sweaty strands as his heart raced against your chest. 

“Sunghoon?” You choked out, your voice cracking with emotion. 

“Yeah?” He replied with a hum as his body only sank further into yours. 

The smell of sex filled the air, the faint lingering scent of his cologne now felt like it was taking on new meaning.

You opened your mouth to reply, your mind screaming at you to tell him what had been repeating in your head.

And with a sharp breath, you replied…

“I love you too.” 

He lifted his head and glanced into your eyes lovingly as he gently pushed your hair behind your ear. 

“Thank you for giving me one more chance,” Sunghoon whispered deeply. 

Your expression softened at his words, your heart swelling with warmth and love. 

“After everything, all I wanted was for you to give us a chance. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to really leave.” You choked out with a sniffle.

“You’re the only one who’s ever even tried to see me, like really see me,” Sunghoon replied. 

“Trust me, I know when someone’s hurting. And to be honest, that’s really what I saw.” You vented. 

“So you’ll have me? All of me? Even with the messy past and shitty mistakes?” Sunghoon questioned. His eyes pained as he held back a sob. 

Your heart melted as you smiled up at him. 

The man on top of you wasn’t the same one who you stood next to at the altar. 

No cameras, no witnesses…

 Through all the tears, the fights, the misunderstandings. He still fought for you. 

And in that moment, you realized, despite the circumstances—

You couldn’t have chosen better yourself. 

“As long as you meet me halfway. I’m yours.” 

⋆⋆⋆

kates note: thank you guys for waiting for this fic!! My life has been so crazy, mentally I wasn’t in the best place and I just had awful awful writers block. But the good news is I’m feeling a lot better and have been writing again! I missed all my mutuals and amazing followers. I hope you enjoyed this fic as much as me. I’d love to hear your thoughts so don’t be afraid to holler in the tags or in my inbox. Good news is I’m working on some requests as well as another sci-fi fic at the moment! So hopefully it won’t be long until next time.

like always take care!

xoxo kate

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[flrtwoo]

chasing rabbits . . .

jay doesn’t make it easy, even when you’re all close up

pairing: bf!park jongseong x fem!reader

warnings: LDR, angst, swearing, not exactly toxic but not exactly healthy either… timestamps only matter in the texts!

context: reader is taking her master’s degree in boston, while jay is working in south korea (13 hr time diff… just think if it’s morning for her it’s night for him!)

a/n: this is for the girls who hyperanalyze and get gut feelings :") the songs of this fic are close up by olivia dean and i think i like you better when you’re gone by renee rapp … sorry gang … ts kinda painful oops

perm taglist: @tsukheeshima @kristynaaah (send an ask/comment to be part <3)

[flrtwoo]

hi 🧍‍♀️ posted the jay fic … NOT SURE HOW I FEEL ABOUT IT TBH but i neeeeeded to dedicate something for my Close Friend Olivia Dean ❤️‍🩹☝️ feedback is greatly appreciated! i hope i gave justice to the girlies who get gut feelings (ME 😅)

[avtrns]

TERMS & CONDITIONS | ENHYPEN

ᝰ.ᐟ a series in which your seven new interns try to show you who really deserves the job ── ⟡ ݁₊ .

pairings | interns! ot7 x ceo f! reader

genre | smut—minors dni!

these are works of fiction and do not depict any accurate representation of any members of enhypen

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read synopsis of each chapter below the cut! ↴

PILOT | WELCOME, INTERNS! ↳ a new year means new juniors in the office. you take the day to introduce yourself, making sure they're aware of the terms and conditions.

INTERN 1 - YANG JUNGWON | THE INNOCENT(ISH) ONE ↳ he's eager to impress, but clearly inexperienced | first time/corruption Your hand lingers over his tie, tugging him a little closer. His breath hitches, eyes wide and unsure, but he doesn't pull away. "Y-you'll show me, right? How to make you feel good?"

INTERN 2 - LEE HEESEUNG | THE SMOOTH TALKER ↳ he knows how to draw things out, leaving you begging before he could even finish talking | teasing/oral fixation Pinned against your desk, his lips hover just shy of yours. "You want me to stop talking?" he murmurs, smirking as his mouth trails down your jaw. "Then let me show you what else it's good for."

INTERN 3 - PARK JONGSEONG | THE JEALOUS ONE ↳ gets territorial when he sees others bat an eye at you | possessive/rough sex Your blouse is halfway undone when he presses you hard against the wall, voice low and heated. "You think anyone else gets to see you like this? I'll make sure you remember who you belong to."

INTERN 4 - SIM JAEYUN | THE PUPPY LOVER ↳ desperate to please you in every way—adores being told he's doing a good job | service/praise kink He's on his knees between your legs, looking up at you with desperate, puppy-like eyes. "Am I doing good, boss? Say it again... please?" Your fingers tighten in his hair, and his grin widens at the sound of your approval.

INTERN 5 - PARK SUNGHOON | THE OBSESSIVE ONE ↳ always distracted by your skirts; gets off on the idea of ruining your expensive outfits | clothing kink/desk sex His fingers hook under your skirt hem, tugging it up slowly. "You really thought you could walk around the office in this and I wouldn't notice?" his tone is dark and amused. "Guess I'll just have to remind you who you're dressing for."

INTERN 6 - KIM SUNOO | THE SWEET BUT DANGEROUS ONE ↳ plays the shy intern until the door's closed, taking control and showing you exactly how dangerous his charm is | innocent act/power switch He tilts his head, all soft smiles and wide eyes as he closes the office door behind him."You think I'm too sweet for this, don't you?" he whispers, fingers brushing dangerously low on your thigh. "Let me prove you wrong."

INTERN 7 - NISHIMURA RIKI | THE BOLD, YOUNG INTERN ↳ pushes your buttons and challenges your authority but secretly craves being put in his place | brat tamer/risky locations You shove him back into the elevator wall, and he only smirks, defiant. "FInally showing me who's in charge?" he teases, voice low. "Go on then—make me behave."

FINALE | THE EVALUATION ↳ after meeting all the interns, it was time for their evaluation. who's going to stay and who isn't?

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[jaeyundazed]

s.jy — all night.

SUMMARY: the world stopped turning when you broke up with him. he was your everything, the man whose face you woke up to every morning. but when he cheated on you, time froze. reality set in. and when he showed up to your door a year later, you still couldn't say no to him. the story of a love that survived through the thorns of infidelity.

TLDR: in a moment of weakness, you sleep with your unfaithful ex, jake sim.

WORD COUNT: 5.5k

ꨄ︎: yet another thing nobody asked for but i still deliver. i've been obsessed w this song recently, and i really wanted to write something that was loosely based on it so i chose my sweetheart for it. i hope it gives what it needs to because i actually worked really hard on it. enjoy, and happy reading. xo

TAGS: smut, nsfw content, fingering, heavy mentions of cheating, (somewhat) detailed explanation of said infidelity, dacryphilia, unprotected sex (don't be like them y'all), creampie, soft dom jake, he profusely apologizes while they're fucking, reader kicks herself a lot for being weak, (sort of) happy ending, but it's not glorified

INSPIRED BY BEYONCÉ'S "ALL NIGHT"

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌၊|• 5:22

You felt like your heart was being pulled clean out of your chest when you walked into your apartment, the one you shared with the man you loved so deeply, only to find him in bed with another woman. The bed you allowed him into, the home you transformed into the resting place for both of you. Torn to shreds, forever tainted by the image of Jake with someone you’d never even met.

“You’re a piece of shit!” you screamed the moment the girl was gone, trying desperately to suppress the sobs bubbling in your chest. You didn’t want him to see you weak, to let him have that part of you when he treated you so horribly.

“I know, I…I’m sorry,” he tried an apology, tears in his own eyes that felt like mockery, some cruel joke. He reached out to you, but you slapped his arm away angrily.

“Don’t ever fucking touch me again,” you gritted, stepping back like you didn’t even recognize him anymore. “How dare you? How dare you do this to me and cry like you’re the victim in this?”

“It didn’t mean anything.”

“Didn’t mean anything when you were fucking her in my goddamn bed?” you shouted as you walked into the bedroom and grabbed a suitcase from the closet, taking heaps of his belongings from everywhere in the room and shoving them haphazardly inside. “I want you out of here,” you whispered, trying desperately to hold on to your composure for a few minutes more. “You’re dead to me. It’s over.”

“Please, don’t do this—”

“Well, maybe you should have thought about that before you cheated on me, you asshole.”

You shoved the bag into his chest and grabbed his wrist as you dragged him through the apartment and to the door. He tried to apologize again, to convince you not to do this, but you wouldn’t budge. The hole in your heart was too large to be fixed with a flimsy Band-Aid—an empty apology.

“Get out, Jake,” you breathed, a tear rolling down your cheek against your will.

“This is our apartment. Our house,” he protested, and you scoffed.

“Where do you get off?” you asked, your hurt masked with disbelief and anger. “This stopped being your apartment the moment you brought that bitch in here.”

He didn’t respond. He knew he had no defense, no excuse, no reason for you to forgive him. To give him any mercy, any lenience whatsoever.

“Get out, Jake,” you repeated with finality. “I never want to see you again.”

He sighed deeply, eyes still glossy and tinged with regret. The hurt he brought to himself by breaking your trust and ruining the good part of your life. Everything you’d built together, every ounce of love in your heart for him, gone in one night. Over one girl whose name he couldn’t even remember.

Only when he walked out and the door finally clicked shut did you let go. A loud, painful sob broke loose and sent a shudder through your body, bringing you down to your knees on the cold hardwood floor. You held your hands over your face and cried harder than you ever had. Cried for yourself, for your shattered heart, for the beautiful life you could have had with the man you loved with every fiber of your being. Your everything, but you weren’t his.

───────────────────────────────

Every step through your apartment was a reminder. Pictures scattered across every room, every wall, every space on a table or countertop. It was littered with memories of Jake, even taking forms that weren’t just photographs.

The barstools you sat in every morning when you ate breakfast together, the sweatshirt he left draped on the lounge chair in the corner of the living room months ago that he always swore he’d pick up but never did. The smell of his cologne forever burned into the sofa’s soft material, leaving an everlasting blanket over the house like a candle that never goes out. Hell, even the front door reminded you of him when he’d come home after a long day and collapse into your arms.

Your life lost its color when Jake left it.

The days at work were bleak and monotonous. You never looked forward to anything, didn’t care to. Your friends worried about you, watched as you fell into a depression that crept up and took over you slowly, taking its time as it tortured you to no end. You didn’t often leave the apartment, and when you did decide to take part in dinners or shopping trips, it was only the shell of you. They eventually stopped asking.

You couldn’t bring yourself to touch anything in the apartment. No matter what you disposed of, burned, or did whatever it took to never look at it again, his ghost would still linger. He would still be beside you every night in bed, haunting you as the spirit of something that once was.

Something that he took in his hands and squeezed until it broke, leaving you to pick up the pieces. Only you couldn’t glue them back together, and the evidence was permanently splintered into his palms.

Days turned into weeks, and those turned into months, all filled with loneliness and the growing void in your heart where Jake used to sit.

The vision of him with that girl haunted your nightmares—even your daily life—as a presence so unyielding that it was almost suffocating. His hands on her body, touching her the way you liked to be touched, kissing her like he was starving, his hips stuttering with every sinful thrust. It felt like punishment, having to live where it took place. Having to sleep in the bed she once lay in as he took her so passionately, thinking you wouldn’t find out. The chilling reminder that you weren’t enough, when you would have traveled to the ends of the Earth for him.

‘What did I do wrong?’ you’d ask yourself on the nights it hurt the most, after drowning yourself in sorrow and sometimes even alcohol, just for it to take only a fraction of the sting away. But you never found the answer you wanted, because it didn’t exist. The truth—unfortunate and harsh as it may have been—was that you never did something to deserve it; Jake didn’t love you the way you wanted him to. The way he said he did.

Admitting that was the hardest part.

But over time, things became a little easier. It was like a baby taking its first steps, slow and careful. You didn’t feel the same ache in your chest every time you looked at a picture of you together. You didn’t lie in bed every night, wishing he were there to hold you until you fell asleep. Slowly, you let yourself feel, embraced the pain he caused, and used it to make you better. Stronger. After a year and one month since the night that shattered your heart, you finally began to move on from Jake Sim.

Perhaps life without him wouldn’t be so bad after all.

───────────────────────────────

A storm breezed through the city, the rain so heavy that it interrupted your thoughts. Thunder clapped on occasion and made you jump out of focus as you sat quietly in the living room with a cup of coffee, trying your hand at knitting. You picked it up as a pastime to distract your lonely mind, and it often worked, but the frequent interruptions from the thunder and lightning made it hard to focus. You were always a little scared of storms.

You heard a knock on the door and stopped working, turning your head to the entryway, where a few moments later, another knock sounded. Confused at what anyone would be doing at this hour, you stood up and padded over to the door, not bothering to check the keyhole, and simply opened it.

You froze.

Jake stared back at you from the other side of the doorway. His hair was drenched, his clothes dark and weighing down on his body from being soaked through. Water beaded at the tips of his hair and dripped down his face. His eyes, big and practically burning a hole through you with their gaze, were wet with the threat of tears, as if they suddenly formed upon seeing you.

He looked beat. Bags under his eyes. No life behind them, like yours, during the first two months of sorrow and ongoing depression.

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, their pink knuckles turning white from how tense his fingers were.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, anchoring yourself to the edge of the door. You felt like your legs would give out at any moment if you were to let go.

Jake didn’t reply. He stepped forward wordlessly with water still cascading down his face. The sound of rain splashing against the side of the apartment building. The soft hallway light illuminated his face and forced you to see the version of him that you fell in love with all that time ago, so effortlessly and entrancingly beautiful.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He breathed. “Like what?”

“Like you used to,” you whispered, like it pained you to say. “Like you still love me.”

“Who said I don’t?”

He stepped closer again. His foot reached the threshold of the doorway as he planted his feet and stood still. He was toeing the line between you, the one that separated the outside—where he was exiled to for over a year—to the inside, where his presence lingered, a constant reminder of his mistakes, how he threw you away like you meant nothing, like the two years you spent together were so easily disposable to him.

“You don’t have the right to say that,” you said and swallowed, your voice firm but laced with the hurt and betrayal that still haunted your body. “You don’t have the right to show up here like this, after a whole fucking year and say things like that to me after what you did.” You maintained the facade, like you’d been anticipating this moment. You wouldn’t falter like you did that night. You wouldn’t let him show you how his actions affected you. You wouldn’t shed a tear that stung against your skin and served as proof that he still had that power over you. “It’s not fair.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You don’t get to do that,” you lashed with a raised voice, your anger masking the vulnerability beneath.

“It’s driving me insane,” he bit back. “I know I screwed up—I know,” he said, like it was something minuscule. Like the mistake was a mere harsh comment in the heat of an argument that he wanted to take back. Certainly not like he broke your trust and left a permanent stain in the fabric of your life that no amount of cleaner could ever remove.

“You cheated on me, Jake. And I had to fucking watch.”

“I know, and believe me, I’ve regretted that every day.”

It almost sounded like he meant it.

You almost gave in right there. Because he seemed so sure, just as hurt as you, as if he weren’t the one who drove the wedge between you and caused the pain and turmoil. He looked at you with those eyes—the ones you swore to forget in fear of falling victim to them again, so sincere, so loving. Soft and gentle, like a part of him still cared.

“I finally started to move on,” you told him, stifling the urge to step into his embrace, his familiar warmth that you’d missed for months on end. “I’ve been going on dates. A few of them were with this guy that I actually like. I’ve actually been feeling better, and now…Now you have the nerve to just show up and ruin everything I’ve worked for.” You felt the wound in your heart slowly reopen, the stitches you worked so hard to tighten broken in nearly an instant.

“You ruined us,” you whispered. “Not me.”

“You’re all I think about,” he replied, like the things you were saying weren’t even true. Like he wasn’t even listening, and you were only trying to convince yourself that you’d moved on. He heard it in your voice; how you were grasping onto the only remnants of resistance you had left. And it was so obvious to him. You wore your heart on your sleeve.

“Jake, stop, just—stop.”

“Please.”

He sounded desperate. And it killed you. To hear him like this and wonder if he did regret what happened. If he could change the way you wanted him to. If you were to take him back, would he make the same mistakes, or would he finally be the loyal man you once believed him to be?

“I can’t.”

His foot stepped past the threshold and into the house, onto the cold hardwood in the entryway that he had stood in so many times. Greeted you with the comfort of his embrace after a long day of work. Whispered the softest of hellos and praises as he kissed you with a sweetness no man had ever graced your lips with before. Loved you like no one else did in the sanctuary of the place you called home together.

The same place where he pleaded with you to stay, to forgive his sins and let him try to make up for what he knew you’d already lost.

“Please,” he echoed so quietly that you almost didn’t hear as he slowly lifted a hand and caressed your cheek with a tenderness your body was too quick to recognize.

You wanted to shove him away, but you couldn’t. In the end, no matter how much strength you could muster, how many things you could throw at him, how many times you could tell yourself again and again that what he did was irreversible, it wasn’t enough. You still loved him.

When he finally kissed you, it said all of the things he wished he could have before. The apologies he desperately wanted to give, wrapped with care and presented in the softness of his caress, how gently his lips brushed against yours, but not asking for more. Merely existing with you as he relished the feeling after so long, after breaking what you built together. He stepped forward, past the final barrier between the heartbreak of the past and whatever the future held inside.

Your house welcomed him like an old friend.

The rain fell harder outside, and his hair was still damp, his skin still cold to the touch. But inside, it was warm, familiar, tainted still with the memories that lingered in every corner of every room. Though you didn’t want to admit it, you felt a release with his kiss. Your body sighed. For the first time in months, you were able to relax. Was it under unfortunate circumstances? Of course, but now, it didn’t seem like you wanted to remember what he put you through, what he caused. You wanted to forget. And he would let you.

You allowed him to deepen the kiss. Invited him in as you wrapped your arms around his neck and craned your head further. Parted your lips and let him take the wheel like he always had, but not without your permission. He knew that if he overstepped for even a moment, it would be truly over.

Every step further inside was another mistake, another reminder that he shouldn’t have been there. But the simple fact was that Jake couldn’t live another day without you. Perhaps, as wrongful as it was to say, the infidelity gave him clarity. Perhaps he was a terrible person. And maybe you were a little fucked up, too.

Jake slid his hands beneath your thighs and lifted you with the ease of holding you so many times in the past, just like now. You wrapped your legs around his waist without thinking and let him carry you through the living room, down the hall, and into the room you once shared. The room that stored memories of every night you spent with him, but amongst them sat the worst—him with a woman that wasn’t you. A chill shot through your body as if it were trying to warn you, but you ignored it in weakness.

He placed you down on your back and knelt between your legs, waiting until you parted them to lean forward and hover just above your face. His eyes took in the sight of you beneath him, a mixture of unguardedness and desperation etched into your face. He leaned down and kissed you more gently, his touch reverent as his fingers dragged along your sides, refamiliarizing himself with you.

His fingers curled into the hem of your top and pulled it up. You didn’t think twice about lifting your arms to let him take it off. Countless times, he had seen you just like this, half-bare and waiting for him, but this time was infinitely different. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want him; you needed him.

“I missed you,” he purred as his hand slipped between your thighs, and he shoved two fingers into you without a hint of a struggle. The pillow braced your head as it fell back against the silk fabric, and your body instinctively arched into him.

“I hate you,” you rasped in his ear, but the words lacked conviction, and they bordered on a moan.

“I know.”

As he moved his fingers in a familiar dance, you pressed further into him. It felt like a promise, like his every move was a testament to the love he still felt for you, no matter how rich it seemed coming from him. He worked with such precision and determination that you knew there was truth to his words. He would show you how he felt, how his regret burned a hole through his heart, how it felt like torment to keep breathing if not alongside you, as if he weren’t the reason for it.

His fingers pushed as deep as your body would allow, brushing along the walls that surrounded them, pulling noises from your throat that he’d longed to hear for so many painful days. So much time to make up for, and not enough time to do it.

“Jake,” you half-whispered into the air, his name so foreign on your tongue after the months of separation, and the room absorbed his name like it was meant to stay. Like it wasn’t whole without him, and you feared the same about yourself. You were so scared of letting him back in, but hadn’t you already gone too far?

Jake only smiled, thumb brushing over your clit, applying pressure as if to say that he was more, so much more than any other guy life tried to toss in your direction. He knew how you worked, what made you melt deeper into his touch, what pried the beautiful clusters of noises from your lips, and exactly what he needed to do for you to fall apart in his arms like you were now, trembling in his grasp as he peppered kisses down the column of your neck. As he worshipped every inch of the body that was permanently engraved into his memory.

When his lips met yours again, it wasn’t sweet like the others. It was hungry and messy, all tongue and teeth as his fingers, slick and soaked in cum, caressed your waist. You whimpered into his mouth, savoring the taste you wanted so badly to forget, but never could.

Your remaining clothes were shed in a matter of minutes, careful yet quick, fueled by desperation. There were no longer any barriers to separate you from him.

Your palms skated along his golden skin, and, against your will, you thought of her again. How she got to do this, to see him like this in your bed. But your thoughts, wandering and frantic, were stunted by him sliding inside of you, forcing you to grip him tighter. After the time that passed, you had to re-adjust to him again. You’d been abstinent with every date you tried to go on, and even if you hadn’t, none of them would’ve held a candle. Not to the size, and surely not to anything else. The way Jake held you, felt inside you, knew your body better than anyone else—it was incomparable.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized in your ear with a whisper as his hips drove into yours rhythmically, setting a pace he knew you could handle.

“Was she worth it?” you asked on impulse.

“No,” he simply answered and reached for your hand, entwining his fingers with yours. “Wasn’t worth losing you,” he paused to breathe when you rolled your hips against his and gasped for air. “Wasn’t you. Didn’t feel like this.”

The sting of tears in your eyes came back against your wishes. The ones you thought you could suppress in fear of showing your weakness.

He never made you feel objectified when you were together, but now, you almost did, because something changed when he broke your trust. You didn’t want to believe that he’d changed, that he regretted what he did. You didn’t want to be so weak as to take him back like this, so soon and with no forethought. You wanted to move on, and you almost had.

You realized then—as he lifted your knee and kissed you until you couldn’t breathe—that you were still the same. No matter how much time passed or how far apart you’d grow, a part of you would always belong to him. It would always outweigh the rational part of you, just like it did now. And you hated it. For all the pain he caused, Jake was still your everything.

“I love you,” you confessed like it was a vow, a promise to him that you would never break as your tears flowed freely. “I’ll never not love you.”

He smiled widely against your lips, held you tighter, and kissed you harder, his every move more calculated than the last as he sank deeper. His kiss turned sloppy—tongue messily forcing itself past your lips, the sound obscene and meshing with the slick ones from each thrust—as he pulled back and finally hit your G-spot. Brushed harshly against it and angled his hips just right for his tip, swollen and aching, to press into it with every thrust.

Your body couldn’t allocate enough strength to uphold your composure, and you grasped onto him as the sobs bubbled to the surface and finally broke through your reserve. The tears were wet as they cascaded down your cheeks, pushed out by the combination of pleasure and sadness brewing inside of you. You’d never felt so humiliated in your life, and it almost seemed that he liked it. That he wanted you to melt for him the way you always did, no matter how wrong or toxic it was.

“I love you, too, baby,” he all but grunted in response, fueled by the sensation of your pussy fluttering around him and the sweet, gratifying noises that spilled from your lips. It sounded so sure, so sincere, but it was hard to believe, given the half-dazed and blissful state he was in, almost like a high. When it was all he had to say to keep you under him—his grasp—like this.

As the pressure on the spot remained constant, you whimpered into his ear, and your cheeks became stained with the aftermath of salty tears, some droplets still glistening in the dim moonlight that streamed in from your window. Jake lifted his head and kissed them away with a newfound tenderness, a side of him you hadn’t seen since long before you split, since you were happy. Since before he committed the one offense he swore to never take part in, and you truly believed he wouldn’t.

Perhaps you were still naive, after all.

“Fuck,” you moaned as another tear rolled down your cheek, scolding yourself again for giving him another shred of your voice. “Just—just like that. Please.”

You wanted to push him away and tell him to leave, but he was so good, so perfect when he fucked you. And you would have been lying if you’d said that you didn’t miss the nights you often spent tangled up in one another in the confines and shelter of the place he used to call home. The place that was missing its second inhabitant and housing the same emptiness that plagued your body. You missed falling asleep in his arms like it was the safest place in the world. You missed the domesticity of waking up beside him in the morning as sunlight streamed through the blinds to illuminate his face, how he would smile at you and speak to you in the softest voice. You missed it all.

You pulled back to look him in the eye with a face that displayed every ounce of pain you held back for the last thirteen months. His pace remained stable, the pressure increasing with every deep, intentional stroke of his cock, and it forced another brutal string of sobs from your throat, each one more pained and agonizing than the last from the wrenching heartache of knowing there was a time when you thought he returned your love just as purely.

You remembered the prospect of that shattering in your face as you watched him give to another woman what he promised would only ever be yours. How it felt to have your heart torn apart in a matter of seconds without the ability to stop it. How the hurt and betrayal coursed through you with no relent. How the mere sight branded itself on your brain as a constant, painful reminder.

His gaze met yours, and you saw a flicker of the man you once knew behind his eyes. They looked back at you, broken and brimming with tears of their own that turned you inside out. He couldn’t feel the regret, couldn’t let his turmoil seep through the cracks, and just let you see. He could never begin to understand the grief that you experienced, the humiliation that still taunted you in every waking moment, from the cold, empty state of the apartment, to the endless cycle of memories popping into your mind no matter where you were, because Jake was everywhere, all at once, but never beside you.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again, and you tried to ignore it for the sake of your heart. He kissed more of your tears away as his own dripped onto your cheeks, your neck, and whatever skin was close enough to catch them. “I’m so sorry.”

You only cried harder, too weak to respond in the crossfire of the orgasm that finally fought its way to the surface and the immense pain in your chest, right where your heart sat, as if someone were trying to rip it straight out with their bare hands. Perhaps that would’ve hurt less.

Jake lifted a hand to lace his fingers with yours, and he kissed you so softly that it felt almost like the ghost of one. It had suddenly become so intimate, a dance of love and passion and betrayal; his gentle kiss and the holding of your hand in his. His hips rolling into yours to create the friction your body ached for, and his tears mixing with yours on your cheeks as you cried, flushed and too pale to be normal. But none of this was normal.

You finally came with a soft whimper that was barely audible, but exemplified more than any scream or moan could say. Your nails dug crescent-shaped crevices into the back of his hand and his shoulder blades, and he never stopped kissing you, not even for a fleeting moment. He’d yearned to touch you again for so long, and he would have been damned to take advantage of what could have been his last night in this apartment, this room, this bed, and beside you.

You let a content moan slip past your lips as the warmth of him spilled inside of you, his thighs and your sheets unsurprisingly slick as the mixed release dripped and pooled between you, a filthy display of your weakness to him. Even after you reached that climax together, came down with him in a messy, unorganized scene, he moved. Only slightly, only to prolong the sensations and the pleasure, to distract from the mental turmoil.

“I love you,” you promised to him again, sounding more sure of the three words than ever, because you did love him. You always loved him, even through the horror and disrespect, even through the torture of loneliness, and even through the moment of weakness that turned into a confession of a love that bloomed again in your heart like the first flower of spring, and the time away was only a cold winter, a pause, a period of reflection, and nothing more. 

Through everything—the hole in your heart and the endless stream of tears that still fell from your eyes—one thing remained constant: you loved Jake.

“It hurts to love you like this,” you whispered with nothing left to lose, your body barely sparing enough breath. “It hurts so bad.”

His lips ghosted over your temple, and he closed his eyes, taking a breath that was too long to be meaningless. “Then don’t let it.”

“I can’t.”

He pulled back to look at you and brushed a few stray hairs out of your face, his eyes scanning back and forth. “Let me love you again,” he said as if it were the easiest thing in the world to ask of you. “Please.”

You searched his eyes for insincerity, and to your dismay, there was none. For all that Jake had caused with his actions, whether they were reckless or not, regret was his strongest emotion, not just tonight, but every night since the one that ended it all.

“And I promise, I will never take it for granted again.”

Your eyes fluttered as a wave of anxiety flowed through your body, nearly shivering as the crisp air breezed into the room. The stars that you wished upon every day of the last thirteen months, the nights you prayed and begged, the days you forced yourself to keep living, all came back to you. This, for all intents and purposes, was the final decision. It was the one thing you desired for days on end, but you were scared. Scared of being hurt again, and terrified that you would never recover if history were to repeat itself. In your time away from him, you somehow fell harder for Jake, or at least, for the version of him that you fell in love with, and the one that presented itself before you now, in this moment.

“I can’t lose you again.”

“You won’t.”

A beat passed. You breathed carefully, swallowed gently, and thought. Did nothing but think and consider and stare at the face of the man you once wanted to marry, who looked back at you like you were his everything, like everything he once told you wasn’t all a lie.

Perhaps your time apart allowed your love to mature and grow into something meaningful. Something grounding, something that could withstand the pain and last a lifetime. Something that wouldn’t end like last time. Jake had grown, and so had you. Maybe—if tonight were anything to go by—this would be eternal, like you always dreamed it would be. Or maybe it was doomed to fail again, and this was a mere moment of weakness and pent-up feelings, a flame too dangerous to be re-lit.

But now, after desperately wishing for this very moment, you couldn’t let him slip through the cracks again. Jake had changed.

And for that reason, you would try.

“Okay,” you nodded, and he smiled like he’d just won the lottery.

He slotted his lips with yours, the kiss tender and filled with love and happiness and everything unsaid, every doubt he had, every action he wished he could take back. You felt his lips stretch into a smile and giggled softly as he kissed along your cheeks to collect every shed tear.

“It hasn’t been the same here without you,” you told him honestly. “Nothing here matters without you.”

He finally pulled out and lay beside you, scooping you into his arms, and held your head securely atop his chest as you curled into his side. It felt normal, familiar, safe, like it always did with him.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he apologized again, and he took your hand in his, resting the two gently beside your head and just above where his heart sat, full and warm again. “You never deserved any of that. I don’t deserve this. I…I promise, I will never hurt you like that again.”

“I believe you,” you whispered and pressed a kiss to his chest.

“I love you.”

You smiled wider than you ever had. Your heart soared at the words, so simple and easy to dilute, but when they came from him, here, now, they had never sounded so genuine.

“I love you, too, Jake,” you echoed back. “Always.”

Maybe the wound wasn’t so deep, after all.

how i missed you, my love...

— © jaeyundazed 2025.

[elikajinnie]

P: Busboy!Jake X Burlesque!Reader (NSFW 18+)

Warnings: Pining, Light BDSM Elements, Service Kink/ Praise Kink, Soft Romance, Mild Humiliation, Alcohol Consumption, Unprotected Sex, Sub!Jake, Begging, Overstimulation, Teasing, Implied Jealousy, Body Worship, Mirror Sex, Munch!Jake, Use Of Pet Names.

Synopsis: You walk into his restaurant after every show like you own the night, glitter still on your thighs, lipstick perfect, heels clicking against the tile. Jake tries to stay professional, but the way you call him “pretty boy” while dragging your nails across the menu? Yeah, he's wrecked.

Wordcount: 20,5k

a/n: Another nasty fic? Sorry! Anyways... this was supposed to be longer.. but i shortened it. reblogs and commentary are appreciated!!

Jake took the job because he didn’t have much of a choice.

Rent was late — again. His roommate bailed, his hours at the bookstore were getting cut, and instant ramen was starting to taste like shame. The late-night restaurant wasn’t ideal, but it was open, quiet (mostly), and the manager didn’t ask too many questions.

It sat right on the edge of the city’s less polished side, the part his old roommate used to call “a few blocks from trouble.” Neon signs buzzed with missing letters, and half the businesses on the street were either bars, clubs, or cash-only joints that didn’t open until after 9 p.m. Jake didn’t care. The food was decent, the pay was better than minimum wage, and the tips? Shockingly good.

He started as a busboy. Scrubbing down sticky tables, hauling trays twice his weight, and dodging servers with short tempers and long legs. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was cash. And after the first week, he settled in. Headphones in during prep, apron always a little loose, polite smiles to tipsy customers who barely looked at him.

Well, most of them.

Some of the regulars — usually older women— looked at him a lot. Thought he was cute in that unpolished, boy-next-door who probably still says please and thank you kind of way. Fluffy hair, nervous laugh, soft voice, crooked name tag. He wasn’t trying to charm anyone, but the wide eyes and flushed cheeks must’ve worked in his favor, because they tipped him ridiculously well.

Twenty here, fifty there — once, someone tucked a folded hundred into his apron and told him “buy something pretty for yourself, baby.”

Thanks to them, he could finally get groceries that didn’t come in foil packets — real eggs, fresh fruit, even that brand-name cereal he always passed by on the shelf like it was a luxury item. So yeah, maybe the restaurant was two doors down from a sketchy pawn shop and directly across from a 24-hour club that played bass so loud the walls vibrated after midnight.

But it was work.

And Jake had learned to keep his head down, stay polite, and pretend he didn’t notice the lipstick on receipts or the phone numbers scrawled in sharpie on napkins.

After all, he believed in love at first sight.

He believed in the kind of love that came with soft music playing in the background, violins swelling, maybe wedding bells in the distance. Cheesy? Absolutely. But he held onto it like gospel. Because when he met her, he’d know. He’d hear the music, feel it in his chest. And once he found her — his person, his other half — he’d give her everything. No hesitation. He’d learn all her favorite songs, bring her flowers just because, rub her feet after long days. He’d do anything to make her happy. He’d put a ring on her finger so fast it would make her head spin.

So, yeah. Jake had a romantic streak.

He was a weak man — even weaker when it came to pretty girls. The type who blushed if you smiled at him too long, who held doors open even if his arms were full, who got flustered when someone complimented his hair.

Which made it all too easy for him to fall weak for you.

He still remembered the first night you stepped into the restaurant — late, long past midnight, when most of the staff had already clocked out. He was crouched near one of the booths, sweeping up broken glass a group of drunk guys had knocked over earlier. The night had been a mess, his knees ached, and his hands smelled like dish soap.

The soft pling of the doorbell barely registered, but the sharp click of heels and a burst of laughter over the low hum of jazz made his head turn.

And then he saw you.

You wore a short, glittery dress that shimmered with every step you took. Your legs bare, heels high, and your makeup flawless — dark lashes, red lips, cheeks kissed with highlighter that caught the light like magic. Your hair was wild and glittery too, a little messy in a way that looked intentional. You were giggling at something on your phone, voice sweet and careless, like you had the whole night in your hands.

Two girls trailed in behind you, dressed similarly — short skirts, rhinestones, perfume thick in the air — talking fast and loud about… tips?

“Did you see that guy in the second row? Told me he was a lawyer and gave me a hundred just to blow a kiss.”

“He ate it up. I swear, some of them would hand over their whole paycheck if you stepped on them.”

Jake blinked.

Wait.

Were you… dancers?

You slid into a booth near the back, not even glancing his way, still smiling at your phone while one of the girls flagged down a server. You looked like sin wrapped in glitter, like you belonged somewhere far flashier than this half-forgotten late-night diner with a flickering neon sign and sticky menus.

Jake, still on the floor with the broom in his hand and glass in a dustpan, stared too long. And in that exact moment, something in his chest shifted.

Not soft violins.

Not wedding bells.

Just heat — low and heavy, curling under his ribs like smoke.

It wasn’t romantic. It was instinctual. Instant. That aching kind of pull where his hands suddenly felt too big, his mouth too dry, and he couldn’t look away no matter how much he told himself to get back to sweeping.

You didn’t even know he was there.

You were laughing at something one of the girls said, tossing your head back like you’d done it a thousand times, like the world had never made you wait for anything. There was a confidence in the way you moved, a slow, unbothered ease that turned heads without trying. Like you knew eyes were on you, and you didn’t just allow it — but expected it.

Jake swallowed hard and tried to drag his gaze away, but it was like trying to stop watching a fire. A beautiful, burning, glitter-covered fire.

He told himself he wasn’t staring. Just… observing. Noticing.

Noticing the curve of your lips when you smirked. The way your fingers tapped the table to the rhythm of the jazz overhead. The shimmer of your skin where the light hit your collarbones.

He was doomed.

You hadn’t said a single word to him. Barely looked in his direction. But Jake was already caught — throat tight, heart thudding, completely at the mercy of a woman who didn’t even know his name.

Jake hadn’t moved from behind the bar in at least ten minutes.

He was supposed to be restocking glassware. Maybe wiping down the surface. Instead, he was leaning just slightly forward, arms on the counter, eyes fixed on the booth in the back like it held the secrets of the universe.

You were laughing again, head tossed back slightly, and one of the servers — Haeun, who normally didn’t look twice at anyone under six figures — was practically glowing under your attention. Your friend had ordered some ridiculous cocktail with three different liquors and a sugar rim, and the bartender hadn’t even blinked before getting to work, whistling as he filled the glass with extra flair.

Jake had never seen the restaurant like this, like the staff was suddenly working under a spell. Plates came out of the kitchen that looked straight out of a five-star dining spread. Nothing was undercooked. Nothing was cold. It was like the chefs in the back knew you were there.

And the servers? They weren’t just polite — they were smitten. Like you and your friends weren’t just customers, but goddesses gracing their temple. Every tiny drink request, every little laugh or teasing complaint, was met with eager smiles and fast hands.

Jake stood there behind the bar, still as a statue, pretending to wipe the counter that was already spotless.

He wasn’t even holding a rag.

His heart would jump every time your eyes swept the room, and he ducked slightly, like you might see right through him. Like the heat curling low in his stomach might somehow show on his face.

He was still trying to look busy — fingers awkwardly adjusting straws that didn’t need adjusting — when Beomgyu breezed by to grab a printed check off the bar top. Beomgyu, a server with too many bracelets and a constant smirk, barely glanced at him until Jake finally found his voice.

“Hey, uh—” Jake cleared his throat. “Who… who are they?”

Beomgyu paused, blinked at him like he was joking, then let out a low whistle. “Oh, right. You’re new,” he said with a knowing grin, eyes flicking back toward your booth. "They're Burlesque dancers. They work the club two blocks over. Real popular. Real talented. Especially her.” He nodded toward you. “She’s the main act. Comes in after her sets sometimes. Tips good, smells expensive, and gets whatever she wants.”

Jake looked back at you, just in time to see you steal a cherry from your friend’s drink and pop it into your mouth, slow and playful, like the whole room was yours to play with.

Beomgyu clapped him on the shoulder with a laugh. “Careful, man,” he said. “She’s got that kind of face people ruin their lives over.”

Jake didn’t answer.

Because he already knew.

He was absolutely fucked.

Jake didn’t stop watching as Beomgyu finally made his way over to your table with the check, casually tossing a folded receipt onto the edge of the booth like it was no big deal. You didn’t even blink. One of your friends glanced at the total, nodded, and without hesitation, you reached into your purse.

What came out was a mess of crumpled bills, tips collected from a night that clearly paid well. Cash — fifties, hundreds, even a few thousands— which you started sorting with practiced ease, manicured fingers gliding across the paper like it was nothing.

Jake watched as you smoothed out a fifty, then another, then took the whole stack and slipped it into Beomgyu’s hand.

No — not hand. You pressed it directly against his chest, right over his nametag, fingers splayed just enough to be suggestive. Beomgyu grinned like he’d just won a goddamn lottery ticket, and you? You winked at him like it was nothing. Like you hadn’t just knocked the air out of Jake’s lungs from across the room.

“Thanks for the service, baby,” you purred. "You’ve got a sweet face. Don’t waste it on minimum wage."

Beomgyu laughed, muttered something back — probably shameless, because that’s who he was — and you were already standing, adjusting your dress with a flick of your wrist. One last flip of your hair, one last sparkle of glitter under the overhead lights, and then the door chimed again.

Jake stood there, frozen behind the bar, as the door closed behind you.

Gone. Just like that.

His fists clenched slightly on the countertop, knuckles white.

It wasn’t anger, not really. Not even resentment. It was something hotter and smaller — seething, yeah, maybe. Tight in his chest. Watching you flirt with Beomgyu so easily made something twist in his stomach. Something raw and jealous and embarrassingly irrational.

Because why wouldn’t you flirt with someone like Beomgyu?

He was tall, charming, and always knew what to say. Confident in a way Jake had never even pretended to be. Jake wasn’t that. He was just… a guy who wiped tables and kept his head down.

The second you were gone, the door still swinging behind you, the scent of your perfume somehow still lingering in the air, he turned to Beomgyu, voice low and throat tight. “What’s the name of the club?”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow, smirking like he knew exactly what was happening. “You serious?”

Jake just stared at him.

Beomgyu let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Velvet Room,” he said, slapping a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, lover boy.”

By the time he got home, he was a man possessed.

Velvet Room. Two words. That’s all it took.

His fingers hovered over the search bar for maybe half a second before he hit enter, and the first result had him nearly choking on his own breath. There you were — front and center on the homepage of the club’s website, captured mid-performance under violet lighting, wearing what could generously be described as a dress.

Jake stared.

Was that mesh? Lace? Glitter? Was that— were those even real straps or just a suggestion of fabric pretending to hold everything in place?

He sat back, breath caught in his throat, hand halfway to his face like shielding his eyes might somehow undo the image now seared into his brain.

Your leg was extended, perfectly posed in a pair of heels that looked like they cost more than his rent. One gloved hand wrapped around the velvet curtain at the edge of the stage, the other trailing down your thigh. Your lips were painted a deeper red than he remembered, parted just enough to look obscene, and your eyes — even through a screen — made him feel like he’d been caught staring.

He scrolled.

And scrolled.

And scrolled.

There were promo shots. Performance clips. Flyers with your name in looping, stylized letters — Miss Honey, Velvet Queen, The Girl With the Diamond Smile. He didn’t know which was your real stage name, but it didn’t matter. It was you. All of it.

Jake didn’t realize how close he was to his screen until the tip of his nose nearly bumped it.

He was red. Full-body, secondhand-embarrassment, “am I even allowed to be looking at this?” red. His ears burned. His throat was dry. His stomach twisted in a way he absolutely couldn’t justify with respectful appreciation.

Because it wasn’t just the outfits — or lack thereof. It was the confidence. The way you moved on stage like you knew exactly what people wanted and didn’t mind making them beg for it. The way you looked at the camera like you were daring someone — anyone — to try and touch you. And the worst part?

Jake wasn’t thinking about just touching you.

He was thinking about kneeling.

He slammed his laptop shut so fast it rattled the table.

And then just… sat there. In silence. Staring at the computer, blinking like it had personally ruined his life.

Which, to be fair, it kind of had.

So what if he took later shifts now?

Sleep could wait.

What couldn’t wait was the aching need crawling under his skin, the itch he couldn’t scratch, the relentless pull in his chest every time he thought about you, which was all the time now. Every shift, every night, every time the door chimed and he looked up just a little too fast.

That’s why he was currently half-hidden behind the bar, pretending to inventory the liquor shelf while he scrolled through your profile — yes, your public social media. It hadn’t taken him long to find. The name was tagged on the club’s official page. From there, he was doomed.

He followed you without thinking. Didn’t even have time to feel shame about it. 

Now he scrolled like he was studying, like if he stared long enough, he might learn something deeper. Something secret.

You were unreal in every photo. Dripping in glitter, wrapped in satin, biting your lip in mirrors, flashing stage lights and feathers and heels that looked like they belonged in some art museum dedicated to temptation.

And Jake? Jake was practically manifesting you into the restaurant with how hard he was staring.

Right now, his thumb hovered over one particular photo. You, center stage. Lingerie-styled corset, sheer stockings, thigh harnesses. The lights painted your skin in gold. One hand on your hip. The other to your mouth. Eyes locked on the camera like you knew. Like you saw right through the screen and straight into him.

Jake blinked. Swallowed.

You weren’t smiling in the picture. Not really. You just… stared. Bold and unbothered. Like the idea of being worshipped didn’t faze you at all — like it was routine.

And Jake…

God, Jake felt like he’d been caught.

His jaw was tight. His ears burning. His phone tilted dangerously close to his chest as if someone might see.

The photo had a thousand likes.  

He’d stared at it for fifteen minutes.

He whispered under his breath like a prayer.

“Please come in tonight.”

As if you might hear it. As if the universe might pity him enough to let him see you one more time, maybe just walk through the door, wink, laugh, steal his soul again.

Jake sighed and shifted his stance behind the bar, scrolling to the next photo. And immediately regretted it.

It wasn’t a photo. It was a video.

He hadn’t noticed it before — posted days ago, tucked between glossy snapshots of your legs crossed on a red velvet couch and a mirror selfie with glitter across your chest. The thumbnail alone should’ve warned him: you mid-spin, hair wild, garter catching the stage light like it was made of diamonds.

He tapped it.

The video started with music. Slow, sultry, heavy on the bass. The camera was steady, focused, and clearly taken from the front row. Jake froze as the lights rose on stage, revealing you, center spotlight, in a barely-there set of black lace and straps, a sheer robe dragging behind you like smoke.

You walked forward, hips rolling with every step, one hand running up your thigh before gliding down the front of your corset. Then you smiled — not the kind of smile you gave Beomgyu or the servers. This one was dark, confident, dripping with control.

Jake’s hand clenched tighter around his phone.

You turned, slow, revealing the arch of your back, then looked back over your shoulder right as the music dropped — and the robe fell.

His jaw went slack.

The crowd in the video cheered, but Jake barely heard them. All he could focus on was the way you moved — controlled, sensual, dangerous. Like you weren’t just performing, you were hunting. And the look in your eyes? God, it was a look that didn’t just invite submission — it demanded it.

When you dropped to your knees and slid your hands up your thighs, Jake nearly dropped his phone.

He shifted again, subtly this time, trying to will away the pressure growing beneath his belt. His face burned, redder than ever, like the air itself had thickened around him. The video wasn’t even a full minute long. But it was enough to break him. Enough to ruin the last bit of innocence he had when it came to you. 

He exhaled shakily and locked his phone screen, pressing it face-down on the counter like it might help cool the heat crawling down his spine.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath.

And when the door chime rang a few minutes later — heels clicking, perfume thick in the air — Jake’s head snapped up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash.

You walked in like a vision, surrounded by a small group of girls who were laughing, glittering, still glowing. But Jake didn’t see them.

He only saw you.

You looked like a swan — no, something worse, something unholy dressed like innocence. All white. Sheer. Feathers lining your arms, trailing behind you like you’d walked through the clouds. Your dress — if it could even be called that — clung to you like it worshipped you. Straps hung artfully off your shoulders, and a slit along your thigh teased just enough to make his throat go dry.

And then you did it.

Right in front of him, without even knowing he was watching.

You reached up and unwrapped the feathery scarf from around your neck, unbothered, like a movie scene designed to kill men too soft for this world. Your fingers brushed against your collarbone, swept across your throat, and Jake had to physically look away.

He turned so fast his hand smacked the edge of the bar, and in a moment of pure desperation, he bit down on his knuckle — hard — eyes squeezed shut.

Because God, he wanted to bite that neck. He wanted to mark it, suck bruises into the skin, feel your fingers tug at his hair while he buried his face there, needy and obedient.

Get it together, he begged himself. She doesn’t even know your name.

He stood frozen, pretending to sort cocktail napkins that didn’t need sorting, praying his face wasn’t as red as it felt. From the corner of his eye, he could still see the shimmer of your dress, the sway of your hips as you moved past.

You were taking your usual booth.

Of course you were.

And now Jake had to survive another night in the same room as you, knowing exactly what your voice sounded like through speakers, knowing how you moved when you danced, and knowing what kind of thoughts that video had unlocked in his brain.

He couldn’t help it.

He glanced up. Just once.

And that’s when it happened.

Your eyes — glittering, lazy, lined in silver — met his.

And you smiled.

Not at the group. Not at the room. Not vaguely in his direction.

At him.

Jake froze. His heart skipped a beat — no, several. His mouth parted just slightly, breath caught in his throat like it was physically stuck.

You smiled like you knew something. Like you’d seen the way his jaw clenched when your fingers brushed your neck. Like you felt the weight of his stare from across the room. And then — oh God — you tilted your head, just a little, the ghost of something teasing tugging at the corner of your mouth.

That did it.

Jake practically bolted.

He spun on his heel so fast he nearly knocked over the stack of cocktail menus. “Break,” he mumbled — to no one in particular — and disappeared through the back hallway, heart pounding in his ears.

The bathroom door slammed shut behind him.

Lock. Click. Silence.

Jake braced both hands on the edge of the sink and leaned forward, jaw tight, eyes wide, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon. His reflection stared back at him — flushed cheeks, sweaty forehead, pupils way too dilated. “Fuck,” he muttered, voice cracking as he turned on the faucet.

Cold water burst from the tap, and he didn’t hesitate. He cupped it in both hands and splashed his face once, twice — three times — until droplets ran down his neck and soaked the collar of his shirt.

It didn’t help.

You’d smiled at him.

You looked at him.

He wasn’t ready for all that. 

Jake gripped the sink tighter, exhaling slowly, forehead pressed to the cool mirror like it might ground him. His breath fogged the glass. His pulse was still a mess.

Get it together.

He forced himself to straighten up, wiping his dripping face on the inside of his sleeve before slicking his hair back with wet fingers. It didn’t help much, just made him look more disheveled. Like someone who’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

He closed his eyes and groaned, low and frustrated. His fingers gripped the edge of the sink again, knuckles whitening as he leaned his weight onto it.

Think of something else. Anything.

Deadlines. Rent. The freezer in the back that always leaked. That weird stain on the booth cushion he still hadn’t gotten out.

None of it worked.

All he could see behind his eyelids was the glint of glitter on your collarbone. The way your lips parted when you laughed. The way your eyes had lingered when they met his.

He groaned again, quieter this time. Half desperate, half already resigned. 

He was a goner. Utterly, hopelessly, embarrassingly gone.

But he couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever. No matter how fast his heart was beating or how red his face still felt. No matter how badly his knees wanted to buckle just thinking about how close you were — right now, probably lounging in that booth like a queen, expecting service.

And what was he doing? Cowering over a sink like a schoolboy who’d seen his first pair of legs.

Jake inhaled sharply and blew it out through his nose, bracing himself like he was about to walk into war. He ran his hands through his hair again, wiped the last of the water off his neck, and gave himself one last pathetic look in the mirror.

“You’re fine,” he whispered, absolutely not believing himself. “You’re fine. It’s just— it’s just a customer.”

A stunning, glittering, lingerie-wearing, dominant-energy customer who had smiled at him like she already owned him—

“Fuck.”

“Knock, knock. Hey, lover boy,” Beomgyu’s voice cut through the door like a blade, followed by two sharp knocks. “If you’re done having your crisis in there, your section’s asking for water — and by your section, I mean her.”

Jake froze.

“She asked for me?”

“Not directly,” Beomgyu said, voice far too smug for Jake’s liking. “But she’s looking around like she’s waiting for someone specific, and your name’s the only one she doesn’t know yet. Don’t keep the goddess waiting.”

Jake blinked at the door.

Oh god. You were waiting.

His stomach flipped. His knees screamed at him to sit down and stay down. But somehow, he reached for the handle. He took one last deep breath, wiped his palms on his apron, and opened the door.

Time to die trying.

Jake stepped out of the bathroom like a man on death row.

The hallway felt longer than usual, like it stretched for miles, dimly lit and echoing with every uneven step of his worn-out sneakers. Beomgyu walked beside him with the smug confidence of someone who’d never been emotionally destroyed by a single smile.

“You got this,” Beomgyu said, clapping a hand on Jake’s shoulder. “She’s just a woman. A very hot, very powerful, very out-of-your-league woman. But still a woman.”

Jake shot him a look that was equal parts shut up and I hate you.

Beomgyu grinned. “C’mon, man. Look at you. Fluffy hair, nervous energy? That’s catnip for women like her.”

Jake muttered something incoherent, trying to will his legs to stop shaking as they reached the end of the hallway. His hand caught the edge of the bar for balance, not dramatically, but enough that Beomgyu gave him a pitying glance.

“You sure you’re not gonna pass out?”

“I hate this,” Jake whispered.

“You love this,” Beomgyu replied. “Now go before she thinks you’re ghosting her.”

Jake exhaled through his nose and turned toward your booth.

And there you were.

Like something out of a fever dream he didn’t know he’d had until now.

You were leaned back against the booth’s velvet seat, one leg crossed over the other, the feathery white wrap now draped loosely over your shoulders. The slit in your dress exposed a length of bare thigh that made Jake forget how walking worked for a second.

But what really did him in was what you were doing.

You were touching up your lipstick.

Right there. In front of him.

Compact mirror tilted lazily in one hand, your other lifting the stick of deep red to your already perfect lips, dragging it slowly over your bottom lip with practiced ease. Like this was routine. Like you had no idea there was a boy across the room watching you like his soul depended on it.

Your eyes flicked up — not to the mirror, but past it.

To him.

Jake stopped.

He just— stopped walking.

Right in the middle of the floor, like a deer in headlights, legs suddenly disconnected from his brain.

Your lips curved up, slowly, as you pressed them together once, blotting, then slid your compact shut with a soft click.

He watched your mouth like it was dangerous. Like it could ruin him. Like it already had.

Jake didn’t move. Couldn’t. His feet were glued to the floor, breath caught in his throat, nerves buzzing like static. It took Beomgyu looping an arm through his and physically tugging him toward your table to get his legs working again. “C’mon, Romeo,” he whispered with a smirk. “Let’s go meet the queen.”

Jake stumbled the first step, then followed, limbs stiff and awkward like someone just booted him into real-time.

You and your friends turned as they approached. The laughter faded just enough to make room for something quieter. Curiosity. Attention.

Everyone was looking at him now.

Jake felt like he was on a stage without knowing his lines.

Beomgyu cleared his throat casually as he reached your table. “Ladies. Hope everything’s been good so far.”

You hummed, smiling, “Perfect as always, sugar.” Your eyes were locked on Jake though, and he felt it all the way down to his knees. “And who,” you asked, voice velvet-smooth, “is this pretty boy?”

Jake blinked.

Opened his mouth.

And made a sound.

It wasn’t a word. It wasn’t even a full syllable. Just a soft, little “nn—” that barely escaped his throat before sheer panic clamped it shut.

Beomgyu, bless him—or curse him, depending on how Jake wanted to remember this night, laughed under his breath and patted Jake’s back like he was introducing a skittish puppy.

“This is Jake,” he said. “Busboy. Rising server. Good with his hands, terrible with his words.”

The table melted.

“Oooh, Jake,” one of your friends purred. “He’s adorable.”

“Look at those cheeks. Baby, are you blushing already?”

“I’d kill to have you in the front row of my show,” someone whispered, low enough to send a chill down Jake’s spine.

Jake felt like the ground might open up and swallow him whole. That would be fine. That would be merciful.

But then you leaned forward, elbow on the table, chin resting on your palm as your eyes dragged down his form and back up again—slow, unhurried, hungry.

“Mm,” you murmured. “He is pretty.”

And that—that—was what finally broke the spell.

Jake’s mouth opened. Words came out. He didn’t even register what they were at first, just that his brain kicked into gear and his voice followed like a reflex.

“Uh—hi. I mean. Hello. Welcome in. I mean you’ve already been welcomed but—hi. Again.”

A beat of silence.

Then the table exploded with laughter. Not mocking — not cruel — just loud, playful, indulgent. The kind of laughter that rolled over him like warm water and made his ears turn bright red.

Jake’s eyes darted to the floor, then to the table, then to anything that wasn’t you, but you were all he could feel — your presence like gravity, pulling his attention back to you with no resistance.

And when he did look at you, you were already staring.

Head still resting on your palm, lips curled in amusement, lashes heavy as you dragged your gaze up and down him again like you had all the time in the world.

“Wow,” you murmured, smiling lazily, “you really are precious.”

Jake’s mouth opened again—no sound this time. Just a blink. Like his brain had skipped a step.

One of your friends leaned into the table, elbowing you lightly. “Stop it. He’s gonna melt.”

“I think he already is,” another whispered, loud enough for Jake to hear.

You tilted your head, eyes still locked on him. “Tell me, Jake. Are you always this shy around pretty girls, or is it just me?”

Jake blinked twice. “Uhh—”

You smirked. “Careful. That wasn’t a rhetorical question.”

Beomgyu was grinning now, clearly having the time of his life.

Jake, meanwhile, felt like he was holding onto his last shred of sanity by a thread. He knew he was blushing. He could feel the heat crawling all the way to his ears, down his neck, probably staining his soul at this point.

But somehow, somehow, he managed a sentence.

“Just you,” he muttered, eyes flicking to yours before dropping again. “Definitely just you.”

You blinked. Then you laughed — soft and warm, like approval wrapped in silk.

“Good answer, pretty boy.”

Jake felt that one in his spine.

“So, Jake,” one of them cooed, leaning forward with her chin in her hand, “do all the busboys look like that here, or are you just special?”

Another giggled, “He looks like he still says ‘yes ma’am’ and means it.”

Jake just laughed — a little awkward — the kind of sound that came out high and breathy, but real. He wasn’t used to this much attention, not from girls who looked like they stepped off magazine covers, and definitely not from you, sitting at the head of the booth like a queen, swirling your straw in your drink like you had nowhere else to be.

Every time one of your friends tossed a flirt his way, Jake took it like a champ. Smiling, blushing, chuckling along.

But you?

Every time you slipped in with something — a sly comment, a low purr of his name, a deliberate glance — his whole demeanor changed.

His spine would straighten, like he forgot how to breathe.

His throat would bob, an audible gulp escaping before he even realized it.

Or worse — he’d try to respond. Pathetically.

You’d say something like, “If you keep looking at me like that, Jake, I might start thinking you're in love,” and he’d mumble something like—

“Um. I mean. I… wouldn’t blame me?”

And that killed.

Your lips twitched. Your eyes lit up.

You ate it up.

Because it was real. Honest. No clever deflection, no fake confidence. Just flustered Jake trying his best to keep his head above water while you circled like a swan with teeth.

Eventually, the table started settling into more casual conversation — well, as casual as it could get with feathers, legs, and flirtation still lingering in the air. Beomgyu, still smirking, finally spoke up.

“You ready to order, ladies?”

Jake jolted back to life.

“Y-Yeah, I’ve got it—” he said, already pulling out his tablet, fingers practically flying across the screen before anyone had finished a sentence.

“I’ll get the grilled shrimp plate,” one of the girls said.

Jake nodded, already typing.

“Salmon for me, extra lemon,” another chimed in.

“Three side sauces,” the third added.

Jake didn’t even blink. “Got it.”

You waited until last, of course.

“I’ll have the steak,” you said, dragging the word out like it was something indecent. “Medium rare.”

He nodded, eyes glued to the screen. “Y-Yes. Medium rare.”

“With the roasted garlic butter.”

“Yes.”

“And the mashed potatoes. Creamy.”

“Absolutely.”

You leaned in just slightly, resting your elbow on the table again. “You taking all this down, pretty boy?”

Jake nodded without thinking. “I’d remember your order even if I forgot my own name.”

Silence.

Then your smile curled—so slow, so satisfied. Like you’d just confirmed something you already suspected. Like watching him unravel was the most delicious part of your night.

You leaned in, your voice a soft whisper meant only for him.

“You’re fun.”

Two words. Just that.

But they wrecked him.

Jake pressed “send” on the order like it was a lifeline, barely managing to keep his hands steady. His grip on the tablet slipped for a second, fingers fumbling before catching it midair, and his face went scarlet again.

Beomgyu let out a quiet chuckle beside him — the sound of a man watching a friend fight for his life in real-time.

“Alright,” he said smoothly, stepping into the space between you and Jake like a shield. “While my boy recovers from cardiac arrest, what did you girls perform tonight?”

The attention shifted like a tide — just enough for Jake to breathe again.

One of your friends perked up, already sipping on her cocktail. “We did the 2000s set tonight. Lots of sparkles and short skirts.”

The others chimed in with giggles and exaggerated dance moves, playfully miming bits of their act. Jake stood there, listening with wide eyes, the edge of your whisper still ringing in his ears like an echo he couldn’t shake.

You hadn't looked away from him, though.

While your friends chatted with Beomgyu about dance sets and heel catches and who almost fell off the stage (again), your eyes stayed on Jake — heavy-lidded, curious, a touch amused.

He could feel it. That heat crawling across his skin again. That weight of being seen.

Jake tried not to look like he was malfunctioning on the spot. Instead, he fiddled with the cheap chain around his neck — suddenly the most fascinating object in the universe — tracing the links like he hadn’t worn the thing every day for the past two years.

Beomgyu, of course, was thriving. 

“So,” he said, glancing between you and your girls, “you all done for the night, or…?”

One of the dancers groaned dramatically. “I wish. We’ve got another show in a few hours.. The crowd gets rowdier the later it gets.”

“Ugh, the late ones are always handsy,” another chimed in. “Gotta dodge hands while balancing on six-inch heels. Love that for us.”

Then someone else — maybe the one with the glossy pink lipstick and the barely-there top — turned to Beomgyu and Jake with a mischievous grin.

“You boys should come. Front row, if you’re lucky.”

Beomgyu, already sliding into flirt mode, leaned on the table. “I am feeling lucky tonight.”

Jake, meanwhile, still hadn’t looked up, eyes fixed on the floor like it had the answers to life’s hardest questions. His brain was a blur of she’s looking at me she’s still looking at me what does front row mean is that a metaphor oh god is she still—

And then you spoke.

“I’ll give you both front row seats,” you said, voice slow, deliberate. “Special treat. You’ve been such good boys tonight.”

Jake’s breath caught.

Beomgyu, of course, jumped on it. “Say less. I’ll be there with bells on.”

And then — like a spotlight — all eyes turned to Jake.

The table went quiet again.

Waiting. Watching.

Your eyes, especially, felt like they were holding him in place.

Jake finally lifted his head, slowly. He glanced at you. Just one look.

You were leaning in again, eyes half-lidded, mouth tilted in that knowing smile, like you already had your answer but wanted to hear him say it anyway.

And Jake? He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. But his head dipped into a slow, hesitant nod — almost trance-like. 

Like his body responded before his brain could catch up.

A few of the girls giggled softly, nudging each other like they’d just witnessed something far more interesting than dessert. Beomgyu gave Jake a smug sideways glance, clearly resisting the urge to elbow him in the ribs.

But you? You didn’t laugh.

You just smiled.

Soft, sure, and dangerous.

“Good boy,” you murmured — not loudly, not for the table, but just enough for Jake to hear.

And God, did he hear it.

His eyes widened just slightly, and his jaw clenched like he was trying to physically stop whatever reaction you’d just triggered from showing on his face. He looked like he was holding his breath. Like the words hit something in him he hadn’t realized was starving.

You sat back with a satisfied hum, as if sealing a deal neither of you ever actually spoke out loud. “Guess I’ll have to be extra sweet on stage tonight,” you added lazily, eyes still on him. “Since I’ll have such a cute little audience.”

Jake was gone.

Absolutely ruined.

His throat bobbed as he tried to swallow down whatever sound was threatening to escape, some mix between a nervous laugh and a plea for mercy.

Beomgyu chuckled, clearly enjoying every second of the show. “Looks like he just short-circuited.”

Jake finally forced himself to glance down at the tablet again, eyes flicking to the screen even though the order had long since been sent. He cleared his throat, the sound tight, like his vocal cords had turned to dust. “I’ll, uh… I’ll go check on your drinks.” He turned a little too quickly, bumping his hip against the edge of the table, muttering a curse under his breath as he all but fled toward the bar.

And behind him, your laughter followed. Low. Warm. And laced with something that made Jake’s knees feel like jelly.

The rest of the time you and the girls were in the restaurant?

Jake got no chance to recover.

Every time he thought he might escape to the back for a moment to breathe, to panic, to maybe slide down the walk-in freezer wall in shame — Beomgyu got him first.

It was uncanny.

Like the moment Jake’s brain formed the thought of fleeing, Beomgyu’s hand was already on his shoulder, steering him toward your table again.

“Refill this.” “Give them their sides.” “Deliver the dessert with your pretty smile.”

Seriously. How did he know? Was he psychic? Was Jake just that transparent?

And the worst part was you never stopped watching him.

Sometimes subtle — eyes drifting to him over your glass. Other times, blatant — chin in your hand as you stared, clearly enjoying every second he tried not to combust under your gaze.

So, when your group finally paid and left — blowing kisses, slipping bills, leaving behind a cloud of expensive perfume — Jake nearly collapsed.

Until he remembered what was coming next.

The club.

Your show.

And somehow, he was going.

Clocking out felt like walking to the gallows. Jake signed his name on the sheet with trembling fingers, heart hammering. The streets outside were buzzing, neon lights reflecting off rain-slicked pavement, a couple of drunk girls laughing across the road, someone yelling at a taxi to slow down.

Beomgyu, of course, was as relaxed as ever, twirling his keys on his finger like this was just another Tuesday night.

“You good?” he asked as they walked.

Jake gave him a haunted look. “Do I look good?”

Beomgyu grinned. “You look like a virgin on his way to confession.”

“I feel like I’m about to die.”

“Same thing.”

Jake didn’t even realize how close the club was until they were standing right in front of it.

Five minutes. That’s all it took to reach the entrance of something that looked like it had been pulled straight out of a dream. Or a sin.

The Velvet Room.

The name glowed in a deep red neon script above tall black doors. The front was velvet-roped, the line stretching around the block — high heels, tight dresses, cologne clouding the air. Music thumped faintly through the walls, low and heavy like a pulse. And guarding the door? Three men who looked like they could snap Jake in half with a hug.

Jake swallowed hard, already calculating how quickly he could turn around and run without embarrassing himself.

But Beomgyu strode forward like he owned the place.

“Yo!” he called out, raising a hand.

The tallest bouncer turned — big guy, bald head, tattoos creeping up his neck — and his whole face lit up. “Beomgyu, you bastard,” he laughed, grabbing Beomgyu in a half-hug, half-headlock. “Didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Got invited,” Beomgyu said, clapping the guy’s back. “Special seats.”

The bouncer looked at Jake then — a little squint, a glance up and down — and then nodded like he knew exactly what was going on.

“First-timer?” he asked.

Jake blinked. “Uh… yeah?”

The guy chuckled. “Don’t pass out. The lights are bright and the girls are lethal.”

Then, with zero hesitation, the velvet rope unhooked. “Go on in.”

Just like that, Jake was stepping into another universe. He wasn’t sure what he expected — maybe something loud, sweaty, chaotic — but the inside of The Velvet Room felt like stepping into luxery.

The air was thick with perfume and dim light. Everything was bathed in deep reds, soft golds, and rich blacks. Velvet curtains hung from the ceiling like theater drapes. Crystal chandeliers cast a low, warm glow that shimmered against polished floors. Tables were spaced in dark alcoves and shadowed corners, lit only by flickering candles.

The stage was the heart of the room — elevated, dramatic, framed by velvet and spotlight. A thick gold pole gleamed in the center. Heavy music thrummed through the air, slow and bass-heavy, just enough to make your heartbeat sync to it.

Jake stood frozen for a second just inside the entrance, taking it all in. He felt like he should’ve worn something better. Or cologne. Or armor.

Beomgyu, of course, didn’t hesitate, he gave a quick nod to another staff member and turned to Jake with a grin. “C’mon. Front row, like promised.”

Jake followed silently, weaving between already-full tables, every pair of eyes dressed to kill. He didn’t miss the looks he got — mostly from women, some curious, some amused. He had no idea what they saw in him, but he was too distracted to care.

At the front was a low, velvet-wrapped booth right up against the stage, close enough to see the tiny rhinestones embedded in the edge of the platform. 

Jake sat down slowly, like he was afraid he might break something — or worse, that he might already be out of place just for breathing in this space. The plush seat dipped under him, cradling his back, the velvet soft against his palms as he steadied himself.

He was so close. 

Close enough that if someone stepped to the edge of the stage in heels, he’d see every curve of their calf, every shimmer of fabric, every drop of sweat or glitter painted across their skin.

And you were going to be on that stage.

In front of him.

Beomgyu leaned back like he did this every weekend, tossing his arm over the back of the booth, sipping his drink like it wasn’t already thick with tension in the air.

Jake, meanwhile, was fighting for his life.

He wiped his palms on his jeans under the table, his heart a steady, brutal thrum beneath his ribs. He wasn’t sure if he was cold or burning. Maybe both. Probably both.

On the table sat a crystal glass with a cherry-topped drink in it — pink, sweet, totally not his, and he had the sinking feeling it had been sent with intent.

He didn’t touch it. He didn’t dare.

The music began to fade into silence. The lights lowered further, casting everything in deep shadows except the glossy black of the stage.

A murmur ran through the crowd like a spark through gasoline.

And then—

A spotlight.

It hit center stage in a sudden bloom of gold.

And you were there.

Bathed in gold light, center stage, poised, and utterly untouchable.

Jake’s brain short-circuited the moment he registered what you were wearing. Or rather… what you weren’t.

There was no real fabric. No dress. No corset. Just pearls.

Strands of them wrapped delicately around your neck, trailing down your chest in looping drapes that barely covered anything. They twisted around your torso, looping across your waist and hips, and dipped just low enough to be indecent. Some hung loose, swaying with every slow movement you made, catching the spotlight and sparkling like stardust.

Jake couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t blink.

His eyes locked onto you like his life depended on it. Every inch of you glowed. Hair cascading wild and soft over your shoulders, skin kissed by stage light, lips painted a sinful red he’d recognize in a heartbeat, even from across a dim room.

A roll of the hips, a lazy twist of your wrist, a finger gliding down a strand of pearls that sat between your breasts like an arrow. Every step closer to the front of the stage felt choreographed to kill.

Jake didn’t even register the noise of the crowd. The applause. The whistles. The low hum of appreciation from tables all around.

Because to him? It felt like you were dancing just for him. Like the rest of the club had vanished the second your eyes locked onto his again. And they did.

Half-lidded. Heavy. Amused. Like you already knew what kind of mess he was, sitting there, jaw tight, hands clenched in his lap under the table like prayer would save him from this. You ran a hand down your thigh, pearls catching in your fingers, and he swore something in his chest snapped.

Jake didn’t even realize he’d leaned forward until Beomgyu murmured beside him, “Careful, man. You’re drooling.”

Jake barely heard him. He couldn’t even process him. 

Because the lights shifted.

The music kicked in—playful, flirty, the slow tap of high heels and a retro jazz beat, and suddenly you were moving.

Your hips swayed in rhythm, perfectly in time with the twinkle of pearls as they danced across your body. Every twist and roll was pure choreography, confident and magnetic. You didn’t just perform. You owned that stage.

Then the other girls stepped out from the shadows, dressed in matching heels and sleek, stylized lingerie — their faces lit with mischief, feather fans poised like weapons.

Soft pinks. Icy whites. Glitter glinting under the lights.

Feather fans opened wide with practiced grace, fluttering like wings as they framed the stage, surrounding you. The sound of them slicing the air gave Jake goosebumps.

You spun once, playful, letting the pearls swing across your chest— 

And then they dropped.

Gone.

The audience gasped.

Jake nearly choked.

The pearls lay coiled on the stage like the aftermath of something sacred, abandoned. And all that remained was you, completely bare behind those massive white feather fans, held carefully in your hands, one lifted just under your chin, the other draped across your hips.

Your eyes found his again.

And you smirked.

It was hellish. Evil. Gorgeous.

Jake’s entire body tensed.

His hands gripped his jeans, trying to adjust himself without being obvious, which was impossible when he could barely move. Every muscle in his body was strung tight like a live wire, and he didn’t know whether to breathe or beg.

You dipped down low in front of him, moving with the music, fans swishing just enough to reveal the long curve of your thigh. You tilted your head, mouthing along to the lyrics.

“They say I’m a good girl…”

Jake’s heart stopped. 

The song. The attitude. The sheer weaponized femininity. It was over.

You stepped forward again, closer to the edge of the stage — closer to him — and with one flick of your wrist, you fluttered the fan just enough for him to see the ghost of your body behind it.

Then you winked.

Jake gripped the edge of the table so hard it creaked beneath his fingers. His legs were shaking. His face burned. His thoughts? Gone. Just static. Need. Awe.

He was completely helpless.

The song carried on—playful, sultry, teasing—your hips moving in time with the beat, fans twirling just enough to give glimpses, never too much, never quite enough.

And your eyes—God, your eyes—kept coming back to him. Again and again. Pinning him to his seat like he was the only one in the entire room. Like this was all just for him.

Was it? Because it felt like it.

When the final beat hit, you struck your last pose. One fan raised high above your head, the other perfectly angled at your hip, barely covering what needed to be covered.

Your lips parted into a wicked little smile.

And then—

A single wink followed.

Jake’s breath caught like someone had punched him in the chest. He couldn’t have moved if the building caught fire. His pulse thundered in his ears, and his grip on the table didn’t loosen until the stage lights faded and the crowd erupted in wild applause.

The curtains closed. The girls disappeared in a cloud of glitter and heels.

And all Jake could do was sit there.

Staring.

Hands still gripping the table, knuckles white.

Beomgyu let out a low whistle beside him. “Holy shit. That was…” He glanced at Jake and paused. “Dude. Are you breathing?”

Jake didn’t respond.

Didn’t blink.

Didn’t move.

He was still gripping the table like it was the only thing tethering him to reality, chest rising and falling with shallow, stunned breaths, eyes locked on the now-empty stage like you might reappear and kill him with a second look.

Beomgyu waved a hand in front of his face. Nothing.

Then—

Smack.

Jake flinched as Beomgyu slapped the back of his shoulder — not hard, but firm enough to jolt him out of his trance.

“Hey, Romeo,” Beomgyu said, leaning in, voice low. “Snap the fuck out of it. You look like you just saw God’s tits.”

Jake blinked rapidly, eyes wide. “I think I did.”

Beomgyu laughed. “Okay, fair. But you can’t die yet. The night’s not over.”

“I can’t take another set.” Jake’s voice was hoarse. “She’s gonna kill me.”

“You say that like you don’t want to die by thigh chokehold.”

Jake opened his mouth to protest—

But he had no argument.

Beomgyu pushed a glass of water into his hand. “Drink. Breathe. Calm the fuck down. You looked like you were about to come just from eye contact.”

Jake downed the water like his soul depended on it, wiping his mouth with a shaky hand. He could still taste adrenaline on his tongue. His heart hadn’t slowed. His knees hadn’t stopped bouncing.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “She’s gonna kill me.”

Beomgyu snorted beside him. “You’re already halfway to the afterlife, bro.”

And Jake believed him. Because just as he dared to close his eyes — just to breathe — the lights dimmed again.

A hush fell over the crowd. Anticipation thickened the air.

And then—

You stepped out.

And Jake’s soul left his body.

It wasn’t just lingerie this time. It wasn’t just seductive.

It was fantasy.

You wore a sheer, black bodysuit that clung to every inch of your body like it had been painted on — nearly see-through, with intricate lace patterns covering the barest amount of skin in the most deliberately torturous places. Tiny crystals glittered like dew drops over your thighs, shoulders, and chest, catching the lights every time you moved.

A leather harness cinched your waist. Thin straps trailed up to your throat like a collar. The bodysuit dipped scandalously low at your hips, showing off more skin than it hid. Thigh-high boots laced all the way up your legs, leaving your thighs kissed with garter straps and nothing else.

And when you turned, spinning to face the crowd — to face him — you smiled.

That same smile. Like you knew. Knew exactly what you were doing. Like you had him by the throat without ever laying a finger on him.

And Jake? He didn’t even want to fight it.

You moved with practiced ease, every step slow and commanding, each sway of your hips a tease. The music was slower this time—bass-heavy, sensual, the kind of rhythm that pulsed through the floor and into his chest like a second heartbeat.

A few whistles rose from the crowd. Cheers. One guy stood up two tables away, clapping like he was at the opera.

But none of it mattered. Because your eyes were still on him. Not wandering. Not grazing. Locked.

You walked to the edge of the stage, your boots clicking in time with the music, the sheer bodysuit glimmering under the lights like liquid temptation. 

Jake was bracing for you to bend forward again—maybe blow another kiss, throw another wicked wink— But then, you did something worse.

You turned. And stepped off the stage.

A narrow staircase waited at the side, draped in velvet and half-hidden in shadow, and you descended like it was part of your routine, like it wasn’t already making Jake feel like the floor was tilting beneath him.

The room shifted with you. Heads turned. Eyes followed. A few gasped. The energy changed completely.

You moved through the tables like silk through fingers, brushing hands against shoulders, tossing a wink here, a hip sway there. A man reached for your hand, and you let him kiss your knuckles before slipping away with a smirk.

You danced, teasing little hip rolls between steps, letting your hands drift up your sides with every beat.

He swore the world narrowed again. His vision tunneled. Because you were walking straight for him. Your eyes didn’t waver. Not once.

And then—without hesitation— you slid right into his lap. Like you belonged there. Like he wasn’t real until you touched him.

Jake froze.

Every single nerve ending in his body lit up. His thighs tensed beneath you. His hands hovered in the air, unsure of where the hell to go. His breath came out in one short, startled exhale that hit the shell of your ear.

You smelled like honey and something darker. Your arm draped loosely around his shoulders as you leaned in, fingers toying lazily with the chain at his neck — the same one he’d been nervously tugging earlier.

You were so close. Skin to skin in places. Heat to heat.

He didn’t even hear the crowd anymore. Didn’t hear Beomgyu whisper “Holy fuck” next to him. Didn’t feel the dozens of eyes staring. He only felt you. The weight of you in his lap. The heat of your thigh pressed on him. Your perfume threading through his every breath like a drug.

And just when he thought you’d pull back, maybe say something else wicked and low— you leaned back instead. Smooth and effortless, your body arched just slightly, the sheer lace of your bodysuit shifting against his shirt, your chest brushing his on the way down. Your fingers reached back and curled around the drink he hadn’t touched—the one left for him.

You brought it to your lips and took a sip.

Jake stared.

Stared at the curve of your throat, the way your lips parted, the soft sound you made after the swallow.

And then— you set the glass down. You turned back to him. And with the same slow, unhurried confidence that had been killing him all night— you slid your fingers under his jaw and tilted his head up.

His eyes flew to yours—wide, stunned, helpless.

“Eyes on me,” you said softly.

Jake’s hands found your hips like they’d been searching for a place to rest all night. You were warm. Soft and strong under his palms. So close he could feel every breath you took.

The music throbbed around you both, low and thick, the lyrics dripping through the speakers like honey.

You started to move again, hips swaying lazily, your body rolling gently in time with the beat—still in his lap, still commanding the entire room without sparing a glance at anyone else.

Jake was entranced.

His mouth was parted, his lashes low, breath coming harder now with each shift of your body against his.

This wasn’t a dance. It was a lap dance. A slow, devastating one. Right there in front of the entire club.

But you never looked at anyone else.

Just him.

And then—

The beat shifted.

Louder. Heavier. The lights flashed once in sync.

And you grinned.

Just as Jake’s grip tightened reflexively, just as he breathed out your name like a question—

You jumped off him.

Effortless. Smooth. One perfect step back—heels clicking, hair flipping, hips still swaying—before you ran.

Jake’s heart stuttered. His hands dropped to his lap, stunned, empty. He blinked once. Twice. And you were already halfway up the stage again. Just in time for the next number.

A burst of color and light. Smoke machines fired. The crowd erupted.

Other dancers poured out from the wings, their costumes glittering under the strobes—silver, red, jewel-toned bodies spinning and laughing and catching the beat like firecrackers.

The light shifted, and a single, searing white spotlight beamed down from above, cutting through the fog like a blade.

It caught on you.

Spinning.

Midair.

You were on the pole, suspended like something holy and unholy all at once, but this time…

You were wearing even less.

The bodysuit was gone.

In its place was little more than black lace and glinting gold straps, the fabric sheer enough to blur the line between stagewear and sin. A single golden chain looped around your waist, catching on the curve of your hips, while another glinted around your throat like a collar.

Your thighs gripped the pole effortlessly, flexing as you twisted upside down in one fluid motion, your hair flowing like ink.

The air caught fire.

Your skin shimmered under the lights—each twist of your body controlled, sensual, perfectly timed to the beat. You dropped a few feet down the pole in a slow, spiraling descent, legs extended, arching back like you felt every set of eyes in the room—especially his.

And then, halfway through your spin, you looked down.

Right at him.

Smirking.

Glowing.

Like the devil in a halo of light and smoke. 

And you knew exactly what you were doing.

Jake couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe—

Not when you were descending the pole one final time, thighs flexed, body arched, boots clicking softly against the stage as you landed.

The music slowed—drawing out into that deep, sultry final chorus—and you moved with it. Dancers moved behind you like a ripple of color, hands in the air, echoing your power but never taking it.

This was your stage. Your finale. Your moment.

You spun once more at center stage—arms raised, hair fanning out—before dropping into a low, controlled squat, legs spread, one arm resting lazily across your knee as you lifted your chin to the crowd..

The lights dimmed one final time.

Blackout.

For one long, silent second, the room stood still.

And then—

Applause erupted. Thunderous. Deafening. Cheers, whistles, claps, people rising to their feet, the entire club practically shaking from the noise.

Jake didn’t hear any of it. All he could hear was the blood rushing in his ears. All he could feel was the ghost of your weight in his lap. The heat still lingering on his thighs. His pulse, racing.

You had walked off stage—disappeared behind the curtain—but it didn’t matter.

You were everywhere. 

On his skin. In his lungs. Under his nails and behind his eyes.

Jake couldn’t process anything after you left that stage.

Other acts came on — dancers in wild costumes, spinning lights, loud music, louder cheers — but it all blurred into static.

Because none of them were you. 

He just sat there, blinking slowly, heart racing in waves, like his body hadn’t realized it was over. He didn’t even realize the show had ended until the lights came back up and people started filing toward the exit. Someone was speaking into the mic, thanking the audience, but the words barely registered. That is, until Beomgyu clapped him on the back and said, “Time to cash in that backstage invite, lover boy.”

Jake blinked. “What?”

“You did get the note, right?” Beomgyu grinned. “C’mon. She’s waiting.”

And just like that, Jake was being dragged.

They moved through velvet curtains and tucked-away hallways, past drunken laughter and perfume-clouded air, through a side door with a glowing EXIT sign and down a narrower corridor filled with pulsing bass, giggling voices, and glitter-streaked bodies.

Jake couldn’t keep up.

Couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

They turned a corner—nearly bumped into a half-naked man in rhinestones—and then Beomgyu was knocking on a door and opening it like he owned the place.

Jake stepped in after him and froze.

The dressing room was insanity.

A sea of open wardrobe racks, lingerie tossed over chairs, wigs propped on mannequin heads, mirrors glowing with soft lights, half-dressed dancers strutting between one another like it was nothing.

So much skin. Too much skin.

Jake immediately looked down, face going crimson.

“Yup,” Beomgyu said, completely unbothered, already chatting up a dancer in fishnets and a lace robe.

Jake stood to the side, hands stuffed in his pockets, cheeks burning as a few of the performers noticed him.

“Who’s the cutie?” one girl asked, twirling a curl around her finger.  “He looks like a lost puppy,” another giggled, brushing past him deliberately.

 Jake nearly stumbled. “H-Hi—um—”

 “Awww, he blushes.”

It was a lot.

Too much.

He barely managed a bashful smile and a mumbled “just visiting” before Beomgyu disappeared behind a rack of fringe skirts with two dancers, leaving Jake awkwardly holding his own wrist near a makeup table.

And then—

The girls by him vanished.

Just—poof. Gone.

Jake barely had time to wonder what scared them off before—

He felt it.

That same pull. That same heat.

He turned—

And there you were.

Fuck.

All you were wearing was a thin tank top and panties, your skin still dewy from the stage, makeup smudged beautifully like it belonged on you that way. Fluffy socks hugged your ankles. And you looked so relaxed. Like you didn’t just crawl into his skull and ruin him. Like you hadn’t sat on his lap and melted him like butter.

Your hair was damp and messy, lips bare, a water bottle hanging from your hand.

And you were looking right at him.

Jake stared.

In wonder. In disbelief. In awe. Because you weren’t just beautiful — you were glowing. The kind of effortless, devastating glow that shouldn’t be allowed outside of dreams. The kind that made Jake feel seventeen again, awkward and useless and soft in all the wrong places.

You grinned. That same slow, sinful curve of your mouth that had him by the throat before you even touched him. “What?” you teased, voice light as you took a sip of water. “Cat got your tongue, pretty boy?”

His eyes flicked away — immediately. Then back to your face. Then away again. Then down. Because God. He didn’t know where to look. Your tank top clung to you like a second skin, loose at the neckline but thin enough to show shadows and curves he didn’t dare focus on. And your panties—he couldn’t even think about them without his knees locking.

“Didn’t know you were this shy off the floor,” you laughed, stepping closer. “You looked so brave when I was in your lap.”

Jake’s face burned. He let out a noise — half-gasp, half-squeak — and you giggled.

Then, without giving him a chance to recover, you reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Come with me.”

“Wha—?” His eyes shot wide. “Wait, what about—”

“Beomgyu?” You glanced back lazily. “He’s having fun. He’ll be fine.”

Jake followed your gaze, just in time to see Beomgyu, sprawled comfortably on a velvet couch, surrounded by four dancers in various states of undress. One had her hand in his hair. Another was sitting on his thigh, whispering in his ear.  He was grinning like a man who died and woke up in heaven.

“…Yeah,” Jake mumbled, “he’ll be fine.”

You didn’t wait for his full answer.  tugging him gently along by the wrist, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like dragging a shell-shocked Jake deeper into a maze of costumes and chaos was no big deal.

The chatter and laughter behind them started to fade, the lighting shifting from neon to softer vanity glows, past makeup stations and mirror-lined walls, deeper into the backstage corridors that few people ever got to see.

Jake’s heart thundered. His hand was still in yours. His brain wasn’t working.

And then—

Stairs.

Narrow. Quiet. Tucked into the corner like a secret.

You didn’t say a word. Just glanced back at him with a look that made his knees wobble, then started up. He followed blindly, eyes flicking between the hem of your tank top and the curve of your thighs as you climbed, the silence thick with things he didn’t dare name.

At the top, a single black door.

No number. No label. No clue.

You opened it with a twist of your wrist and stepped inside, tugging him behind you.

Jake blinked once. Then again.

Oh.

It was yours.

No question about it.

Everything in the room whispered you — soft velvet drapes in deep reds and purples, a rack of glittering costumes by the wall, a vanity covered in makeup, jewelry, perfume bottles, and half-empty glasses of champagne. Candles — actual candles — sat unlit near a record player that was softly spinning something jazzy and low.

The lighting was warm. Golden. Intimate.

And there was a faint smell of perfume and skin and something floral lingering in the air.

Jake stood there, stunned, blinking slow, like he’d stepped into another dimension. “This is—”

“My space,” you said simply, letting go of his wrist and stretching your arms over your head with a long sigh, body arching like a cat. “I don’t usually bring people here.”

Jake’s throat went dry. “Oh.”

“Mmhm.” You walked across the room barefoot now, socks muffling your steps as you grabbed a bottle of water from the vanity and took a sip. “But you’re special, aren’t you?”

He stared. Didn’t trust his mouth. Didn’t know where to look.

The tank top hung off one shoulder now, slipping lower, teasing more skin. Your panties peeked out beneath the hem. You looked casual. Effortless. Lethal.

Jake, meanwhile, was standing there like he’d forgotten how to be human.

And when you finally turned around and said, “Well? You just gonna stand there and stare, pretty boy?”—

He nearly melted.

He wanted to say something smooth. Something charming. But all that came out was a breathy, “Uh.”

Your smile deepened. “Adorable.”

You turned back to the vanity, setting your water bottle down and running your fingers through your damp hair like you weren’t absolutely wrecking him just by existing.

Jake finally took a step forward. Then another. The floor felt uneven. His limbs weirdly heavy. Like the air in your room was thicker — warmer. “I… uh, it’s nice,” he managed, gesturing vaguely at the room. “Your… wardrobe. Space. Room. Thing.”

You looked at him through the mirror. That lazy, knowing glance. Like you could see right through him. “You nervous, Jake?”

His name in your mouth hit like a jolt to his chest.

He straightened a little too fast. “No. I mean—yes. Maybe. Kind of?”

You laughed — low, soft, and just a little wicked. Then you turned, fully facing him now, leaning back against the vanity with your palms flat on the edge. The golden light spilled across your skin, painting your collarbones in shadows, catching the curve of your waist where your tank top had ridden up.

You tilted your head. “You were doing so well earlier. All that staring. The hands on my hips. Letting me ride your lap like I owned it.”

Jake made a noise. Something between a gasp and a squeak. His face went red. “I-I wasn’t letting—”

“Oh?” You arched a brow. “Was I taking what I wanted, then?”

Jake couldn’t answer. His mouth opened. Closed.

You stepped closer.

And then—

Your fingers hooked in the waistband of his pants.

Just a light touch. Just enough to make him freeze.

“Relax,” you whispered, smiling up at him. “I’m not gonna break you.”

Jake swallowed hard. “That’s… not what I’m worried about.”

“Oh?” you purred. “Then what are you worried about, pretty boy?”

He hesitated. Just for a second. Eyes flicking from your mouth to your bare thighs to the soft, mischievous glint in your gaze.

“That I won’t be able to stop you.”

The words hung there. Heavy.

Your smile didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened — slow and dangerous. Like you liked that answer. Like you were counting on it.

You leaned in, so close he could feel the warmth of your breath ghost across his jaw. Your fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt now, slipping beneath it, just brushing the bare skin of his stomach — and he tensed. 

Not in resistance. But in anticipation.

Your nails scratched lightly. Teasing. And your voice, barely above a whisper, slid right into his ear: “Who says I want you to stop me?”

Jake’s breath hitched so hard his entire body jerked.His hands were hovering again — not knowing where to land. Not knowing what was allowed. What would push. What would ruin.

But you took the choice from him. You grabbed his wrists gently, and you placed them on your waist.

“I’m right here,” you whispered. “I want you to touch me.”

Jake groaned — like it physically hurt to hear you say that. 

You stepped in fully now, flush against him. And he felt it — all of you. Bare legs brushing his jeans, tank top soft against his chest, your mouth just inches away. “You’ve been such a good boy tonight,” you said, nails dragging lightly up the back of his neck. “Watching. Obeying. Letting me have my fun.”

He exhaled, shaky. “I—I wasn’t trying to—”

“But you did.”

Your hand slid into his hair. Gripped.

Jake shivered.

He was still holding onto your waist, fingers trembling against your skin like he didn’t trust himself to hold on any tighter. His eyes were wide, glazed over with something that looked a lot like awe… and something far more desperate.

You leaned in just enough for your lips to barely brush his cheek. “You’ve been watching me all night,” you whispered, tone light but laced with intention. “Letting your eyes linger. Pretending you weren’t imagining things you’re too shy to say.”

Jake’s grip on your waist tightened. “I wasn’t—”

“Liar,” you teased, brushing your nose along his jaw. “You haven’t looked away from me once.” You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes again. He looked wrecked — flushed, breathless, still trying so hard to be good.

And you loved it.

You let one hand trail down from his hair, dragging across the line of his throat, fingers grazing his chest. His heart was pounding. 

“Tell me, pretty boy,” you said, voice soft but dangerous, “do I make it hard to breathe when I’m this close?”

Jake gasped. His eyes fluttered shut. He leaned in instinctively, but stopped himself. Still trying to behave. Still trying to be good.

You brushed your lips across his again — not a kiss. Just enough to make him ache.

And it worked.

You felt it. The shift. The sound he made — something choked, something broken.

And then—

He snapped.

With a low, desperate sound, Jake crashed forward, catching your mouth with his in a kiss that was messy and breathless and starving.

His hands gripped your waist tight — not careful now, not holding back — and you barely had time to smirk against his lips before he was pulling you closer.

And without breaking the kiss, he lifted you. Like you weighed nothing. Like all his hesitation had burned away.

You gasped softly against his mouth, arms winding around his shoulders as he moved toward the vanity in just a few urgent steps.

And he never broke the kiss. Not for a second.

Jake’s hands held your waist like a lifeline, fingers gripping you tighter than before — no longer trembling, no longer hesitant. Just real.

Hungry.

When he set you down on the edge of the vanity, the motion was clumsy and rushed, but grounded, like he couldn’t think straight with your lips on his but still needed you there.

You made a soft, breathless noise against his mouth — the kind that drove him insane — and he kissed you deeper in response.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t practiced. 

It was messy and warm and a little shaky, like every inch of him was trying to memorize what you tasted like, what you felt like, what it meant to finally touch you back.

Your legs parted just slightly to pull him closer, and Jake stepped between them, chest pressed to yours. 

His breath was shaky, uneven against your cheek, but his hands were steady now — one planted firmly on your waist, the other sliding up your back like he needed to feel every part of you. You could tell he was overwhelmed. Still buzzing from the shock of finally giving in. Still trying to process that you were here, letting him touch you, kiss you, have you like this.

But even in his desperation — the flushed cheeks, the breathy exhales, the way his lips ghosted down to your jaw like he couldn’t help himself — there was something deeper beneath it.

“You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me.”

Your fingertips brushed the back of his neck. “I think I do.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were glassy, a little wide, but dark with focus — entirely on you.

“I’ve been losing it,” he said, lips still parted, voice shaking. “Every time you walk in that restaurant, every time you look at me like that…” His hand slid down to your thigh, fingers gripping lightly. “You have no idea how close I was to dropping everything and begging.”

Your breath caught.

Jake leaned in again, mouth brushing yours. “But I didn’t,” he whispered. “I waited. I let you tease me. I let you lead.” He kissed you again, dragging his hand up your thigh, keeping you flush against him. “But now?” he murmured between kisses. “Now I get to touch you.” A kiss. “You're in my hands now.” Another kiss. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

You ran your hands up under his shirt, feeling him tense slightly, and whispered, “So what are you gonna do with me, pretty boy?”

Jake’s groan was soft — frustrated and wrecked — as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

You tilted your head just enough to catch his gaze, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “You don’t know where to start?” you murmured, voice low, playful, but laced with the same heat that was burning through him. 

His hand tightened on your thigh, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver. “You have no idea what’s been going on in my head.”

“Then show me,” you whispered, your hands sliding higher under his shirt, tracing the lines of his abdomen, feeling the way his muscles tensed under your touch. “I’m right here.”

That was all it took. Something snapped in him—not loud, not violent, but quiet and devastating. His lips crashed back onto yours, hungrier now, less restrained, like he was done holding back. The kiss was deep, messy, a tangle of want and need, and you matched it, pulling him closer until there was no space left between you. His hand on your waist slid up to your ribcage, thumb brushing just under the edge of your shirt, teasing the bare skin there. 

“Careful,” you teased against his mouth, breathless, your fingers curling into his hair. “You’re gonna break the vanity.”

“Don’t care,” he growled softly, his lips trailing down your jaw, to the sensitive spot just below your ear. His breath was hot against your skin, and you felt the faintest scrape of his teeth, just enough to make your pulse jump. “I’ll fix it. I’ll fix anything. Just—God, let me have this.”

You laughed, soft and shaky, tilting your head back to give him more access. “You’re acting like I’m going anywhere.”

“You better not,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, vibrating against your throat. His hand slid higher, fingers splaying across your back, pulling you impossibly closer until you could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat against your chest. “I’m not letting you out of my sight now.”

Your legs tightened around him, pulling him flush against you, and he let out a sound—a low, broken groan that sent heat pooling in your stomach. His hands were everywhere now, one gripping your thigh, the other sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, like he couldn’t decide where he needed to touch you most. Every movement was desperate, reverent, like he was trying to memorize you, to make up for all the time he’d spent holding back.

“Jake,” you breathed, your voice barely audible, but it was enough to make him pause, his lips hovering just above your collarbone. He looked up at you, his eyes dark and searching, like he was waiting for you to say something—anything—that would tell him what you wanted.

You reached up, cupping his face, your thumbs brushing over his flushed cheeks. “You don’t have to hold back anymore,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing. “I’m yours. Do whatever you want.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his hands frozen on your hips, like he was afraid moving would break the spell. Then, something shifted—his gaze deepened, turning worshipful, like you were something sacred he’d been longing to kneel before.

“God,” he whispered, voice breaking, low and rough. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.” His hands trembled slightly as they slid up your sides, fingers catching the hem of your top. He paused, searching your eyes for permission, and when you gave the smallest nod, he exhaled, shaky and grateful. “I’ve dreamed about this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he slowly lifted your top, peeling it over your head with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “Every night, every damn shift at that restaurant, watching you laugh, watching you move—I wanted you like this. Just for me.”

The cool air hit your skin, but before you could register it, Jake’s hands were there, warm and steady, tracing the curve of your shoulders. His lips followed, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to the newly exposed skin, like he was committing every inch of you to memory. “So perfect,” he breathed against your collarbone, his voice thick with awe. “You’re so damn perfect, and I—I couldn’t let myself believe you’d ever let me see you like this.”

Your breath hitched as his fingers slid to the clasp of your bra, hesitating just long enough for you to feel the weight of his gaze, heavy and adoring. “Is this okay?” he asked, his voice soft but strained, like it was taking everything in him to hold back. You nodded, and he unhooked it with careful hands, letting the fabric fall away. 

He didn’t rush. His hands slid up your sides, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin just beneath your ribs, and he leaned in, pressing a slow, worshipful kiss to the curve of your shoulder. “Every time you smiled at me, every time you leaned close—I was dying to touch you, to know what it felt like to have you this close.” His hands followed his words, fingers tracing patterns across your skin, gentle but firm, like he was mapping you out. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. The most perfect woman—God, you don’t even know.”

His lips found the curve of your breast, and you gasped, your hands tangling in his hair. He groaned softly, the sound vibrating against your skin, and pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes wide and overwhelmed. “I’m losing it,” he admitted, his voice raw, a little desperate. “I’ve thought about you like this so many times, and now you’re here, and it’s so much better than I ever imagined.”

His hands, still trembling faintly, settled gently on the curve of your breasts. His touch was soft at first, like he was handling something fragile. His thumbs brushed over your skin, tracing the contours with a tenderness that made your breath catch.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick, almost breaking. He leaned in, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your breast, soft and warm, a kiss so gentle it sent shivers racing down your spine. His mouth moved slowly, worshipful, kissing along the curve of your breast, his tongue darting out just enough to make you gasp again, your fingers tightening in his hair.

“Perfect,” he breathed, his voice muffled against your skin. “You’re so perfect, I can’t—” He cut himself off with another kiss, his lips closing softly around your nipple, teasing with the lightest flick of his tongue. The sensation pulled a quiet moan from you, and his groan in response vibrated against your skin, low and wrecked.

But then something shifted. The gentleness in his touch began to fray, his restraint unraveling as your reactions fueled him. His hands grew firmer, cupping your breasts with more urgency, thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made your back arch. His kisses turned hungrier, more insistent, his lips and tongue working in tandem, teasing and sucking with a roughness that sent heat pooling low in your stomach. “You drive me crazy,” he rasped, his voice rougher now, edged with a need he couldn’t hide.

His body pressed closer, hips slotting between your legs, and you felt him—hard, desperate—grinding against you in a slow roll that made you gasp. The friction was electric, and he groaned into your skin, his mouth still working over your breast, rougher now, teeth grazing lightly as he sucked harder. His hands slid down to grip your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the vanity, his grinding becoming more forceful, more desperate. Each movement sent sparks through you, the heat of him pressing against you making your head spin. His mouth never left your breasts, alternating between them, kissing and sucking with a hunger that felt like he was trying to claim every inch of you. His teeth grazed again, just enough to sting, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue, and you whimpered, your fingers tugging harder at his hair.

Jake’s hunger spiraled, his control fraying further with every sound you made. His kisses turned sloppy, wet and fervent, as he sucked harder. He didn’t hold back now, leaving blooming marks across the swell of your breasts—small, possessive claims that made your breath hitch. 

You arched into him, pressing your chest closer to his mouth, encouraging him, craving more of his wild devotion. “That’s it, baby,” you murmured, voice low and breathy, laced with heat. “You’re so good, Jake—so good.” Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan, the sound muffled against your skin as he buried his face deeper, lips latching onto your nipple with renewed intensity. His hips pressed harder against you, grinding with a desperate rhythm, the rough friction of his jeans against your core making your head spin. Each roll of his hips was needy, like he was chasing something he couldn’t quite reach. 

“Good boy,” you purred, your hands sliding down his neck, nails scraping lightly as you pulled him closer, your chest arching further into his mouth. “You’re doing so well, sweetheart.” Your praise sent Jake spiraling, his whines growing louder, more desperate, as he pressed himself against you. But then, with a sudden spark of mischief, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back gently but firmly. He stumbled slightly, his lips parting from your skin with a soft, wet sound, his eyes snapping to yours, wide and confused, like a kicked puppy. His flushed cheeks and glassy gaze made your heart twist with both affection and heat.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing, as you reached up to pat his face gently, your fingers lingering on his jaw. His expression was full of longing, his breath hitched as he watched you, waiting, hoping. You slid off the edge of the vanity, letting the tension build as his eyes followed every inch of you.

Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, you held his gaze, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. Slowly, you slid the fabric down your legs, stepping out of them with a grace that made his breath catch audibly. His eyes tracked the movement, his hands twitching at his sides like he was fighting not to reach for you. You dangled the panties in front of him for a moment before stepping closer, tucking them into the pocket of his jeans with a deliberate brush of your fingers against his thigh. “Something to remember me by,” you whispered, winking at him as you turned and sauntered toward the plush couch in the corner of the room.

Jake stood frozen, his chest heaving, watching you with a look of desperation. You settled onto the couch, sinking into its soft cushions, and spread your legs, letting your body bare itself to him completely. The sight seemed to break something in him. His eyes widened, his lips parting as a low, guttural sound escaped him, like he’d been punched in the gut.

“Oh, God,” he choked out, his voice raw, and then he was moving—frantic, clumsy, almost tripping over himself in his haste. His hands fumbled at his shirt, yanking it over his head with such force you heard a seam rip. He didn’t care, tossing it aside as his fingers scrambled to undo his jeans, shoving them down his legs in a rush. He nearly stumbled, one foot catching in the fabric, and you couldn’t help the soft laugh that slipped out, though it only seemed to spur him on.

“Fuck, you’re—” he started, his voice breaking as he kicked his jeans away, leaving him in just his boxers, his arousal painfully obvious. His eyes were locked on you, on the way you lounged on the couch, open and inviting, your smirk daring him to come closer. “You’re gonna kill me,” he rasped, crossing the room in two long strides, dropping to his knees in front of you like he was worshipping at an altar.

His hands found your thighs immediately, fingers digging in with a desperate edge as he looked up at you, his face flushed and eyes wild. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmured, his voice trembling with need. His hands slid up your thighs, slow but hungry, and he leaned in, pressing a shaky kiss to the inside of your knee, his eyes never leaving yours. “Tell me what you want, please,” he begged, his voice low and wrecked. 

You reached down, threading your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly as you tilted his head up to meet your gaze. “Oh, pretty boy,” you purred, your voice dripping with heat and affection. “Just keep looking at me like that. And don’t stop touching me.”

His breath shuddered out, and he surged forward, his lips trailing higher up your thigh, his hands gripping you like he was afraid you’d vanish. “Never,” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with devotion. “I’m never stopping.”

Jake’s lips moved higher, creating marks along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Each press of his mouth was hungry, leaving a trail of faint red blooms that made your pulse race. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, fingers digging in with a possessive edge, holding you open as if he couldn’t bear the thought of you pulling away. His breath was hot, uneven, and when his lips reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, his face hovering just above your core. A low, guttural groan rumbled from his chest, raw and unfiltered, as he took in the sight of you, bare and spread before him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of awe and desperation. “You’re so—God, you’re perfect.” Before you could respond, before you could even process the intensity in his eyes, he leaned in without hesitation, his tongue dragging a slow, bold stripe up your folds. The suddenness of it shocked you, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as your body jolted, the sensation electric and overwhelming. 

“Jake,” you gasped, your hands flying to the couch, fingers gripping the cushions tightly as he dove in fully, his tongue exploring you with a fervor that made your head spin. He licked and sucked, loud and unapologetic, the wet sounds of his mouth against you filling the room. His tongue moved everywhere it could reach, teasing your folds, circling your clit, then dipping lower, as if he was determined to taste every inch of you. His hands kept your thighs spread wide, fingers pressing into your skin with a desperate strength, holding you open like you were a feast he’d been starving for.

“Slow down, baby,” you tried to say, your voice breathless, half-laughing, half-moaning as you squirmed under the intensity of his attention. But Jake didn’t seem to hear you, too lost in his need, his face buried between your legs, his tongue working relentlessly. His groans vibrated against you, low and needy, each one sending a fresh wave of heat through your core. He was ravenous, licking and sucking with a messy, unrestrained hunger, his lips and tongue moving with a single-minded focus that made your toes curl.

“Jake, oh God,” you moaned, your head falling back against the couch, your fingers digging deeper into the cushions as you gave in to the overwhelming pleasure. “You’re so good,” you murmured, your voice shaky but full of praise. “So fucking good, baby, just like that.”

He groaned louder at your words, the sound muffled against your skin, his tongue flicking faster, more insistent, as if your praise was fuel to his fire. His fingers dug into your thighs, leaving faint marks of their own, and he sucked harder at your clit, drawing a sharp cry from you. “Can’t get enough,” he mumbled against you, his voice slurred, barely coherent, his mouth never stopping. “Never gonna get enough of you.”

Your hips bucked against him, chasing the heat of his mouth, and he moaned, encouraging you, his grip tightening to keep you exactly where he wanted you. “Jake,” you gasped, your voice trembling, your hands gripping the cushions so tightly your knuckles whitened. The pleasure was overwhelming, building too fast, too intense, and when his lips closed around your clit, sucking hard, you shattered. A sharp cry tore from your throat as you came, your body trembling, waves of pleasure crashing through you. Jake didn’t stop—he licked up every bit of your release, savoring you like you were the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.

But he didn’t pull away after. If anything, his pace quickened, his tongue diving back in with renewed fervor, licking and sucking with a messy intensity that made your already sensitive body jolt. “Jake, stop,” you whimpered, your voice weak, your thighs shaking as the overstimulation set in. Your words seemed to fall on deaf ears, though—his eyes were half-lidded, glazed with need, his mouth working you even faster, the wet sounds of his tongue and lips loud and unapologetic.

You tried to squirm away, your body instinctively retreating from the intensity, crawling backward on the couch. But Jake’s hands shot to your hips, pulling you back with a desperate whine that sent a fresh wave of heat through you. “No, no, stay,” he mumbled against your skin, his voice muffled, pleading, as he sucked your clit into his mouth with a loud slurp. The sensation was so intense it stole your breath, your body arching off the couch despite yourself.

“Jake, please,” you gasped, your hands weakly pushing at his head, fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to ease him off. But he didn’t budge, instead, he grabbed your hands, his fingers intertwining with yours, holding them tightly as he pressed them against your hips, keeping you pinned. “Just relax,” he murmured, his voice soft but thick with want, barely audible between the sloppy kisses he pressed to your core. “You’re okay, baby, just let me—let me have you.”

You sobbed softly, the overstimulation tipping into something dizzying, almost unbearable, as your body trembled under his touch. Your strength melted away, your head falling back against the couch as you collapsed. 

“So good,” he mumbled, his words slurred against you. “Taste so fucking good.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, spilling over as you gasped, your voice breaking into desperate sobs. “Jake, please,” you cried, your voice shaky, barely audible over the wet sounds of his lips and tongue. “Slow down—stop, it’s too much!” Your hands, still clasped in his, tugged weakly, trying to pull away, but his grip only tightened.

“Need more,” he mumbled, his voice muffled, slurred against your slick skin. “Need to make you feel good—need to satisfy you.” His words were frantic, almost incoherent, as if he was pleading with himself as much as with you.

Your sobs grew louder, your body shaking as you arched against the couch, caught between wanting to escape and being utterly trapped by the overwhelming sensation. “Jake, I can’t—” you whimpered, tears streaming down your cheeks, but before you could finish, he shifted, his mouth never leaving you. Without warning, he slid two fingers inside you, the sudden intrusion making you cry out, your body clenching around him instinctively.

The stretch was intense, his fingers curling just right, finding that spot inside you that made your breath hitch and your hips buck despite your protests. “So perfect,” he murmured, his lips brushing your swollen clit as he pumped his fingers in and out, each thrust paired with a hard suck that made your body jolt. “Need you to come again, please, baby.”

You were a mess, sobbing and gasping, your hands squeezing his so tightly it hurt, but you couldn’t pull away, couldn’t do anything but let him consume you. His fingers moved faster now, curling and stroking with a precision that made your thighs tremble, while his mouth stayed relentless, sucking and licking your clit with a desperation that felt like he was trying to draw your soul out of you. “Jake, please,” you begged again, your voice breaking, but it was useless—he was too far gone, lost in his need to please you, to taste you, to feel you unravel under him.

The pleasure built relentlessly, your body betraying you as Jake’s fingers curled deeper and his mouth sucked harder, pushing you over the edge again. Your second orgasm crashed through you, a sharp, shuddering wave that left you sobbing, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as you clenched around his fingers. A broken moan tore from your throat, and Jake groaned in response, lapping up every bit of your release with slow licks until the sensation was almost too much.

Finally, he pulled back, his lips leaving your skin with a soft, wet sound. He sat back on his knees, his face glistening with your slick, his eyes heavy with awe. His chest heaved, his lips parted, and he looked at you like you were the only thing that existed. “Baby,” he rasped, his voice rough and trembling, “can I—can I fuck you? Please, I’ll do so good, I swear. You’ll love it, I’ll make you feel so good.” 

You could barely think, your body still buzzing, thighs twitching from the intensity. But you nodded, your voice shaky as you whispered, “Yes, yes, yes,” over and over, the words spilling out like a mantra. Jake’s eyes widened, a soft, pathetic whine escaping him as he scrambled to sit up, fumbling with his boxers. He shoved them down, revealing his hard cock, already leaking precum, the tip flushed and glistening. He shuffled closer, his hands trembling as he guided himself to you, grinding his length against your folds.

The slick sounds of him sliding against you filled the room, obscene and intoxicating, as he coated himself in your wetness. “Jake,” you gasped, your voice hoarse, your hands gripping the couch as you arched toward him. “Put it in, please.” 

He let out a loud whine, his head falling forward as he obeyed, his hands guiding himself to your entrance. Slowly, so slowly, he pressed in, his jaw clenching as he fought to keep control. “Fuck,” he whimpered, his voice breaking as he felt you stretch around him. “You’re so tight—God, so fucking tight.” Jake groaned deeply as he buried himself fully inside you, his hips pressed flush against yours. His body hunched forward, trembling, his forehead nearly touching yours as he gazed down at you, tracing every detail of your face—every gasp that parted your lips, every twitch of your brow, every subtle shift in your expression. A faint trail of drool slipped from the corner of his mouth, his breath hitching as he tried to process the overwhelming reality of you beneath him.

You met his gaze, your chest heaving, your own eyes heavy with need. His stare was so intense, it made your heart pound harder. “Jake,” you whispered, your voice shaky but firm, “move. Please.” Your hands tightened on his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, urging him on.

He let out a shaky breath, almost a whimper, and nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. Slowly, he pulled back, dragging himself out until just the tip remained, the sensation making you both shiver. Then, with a desperate thrust, he pushed back in, and you both moaned loudly, the sound filling the room. The feeling was electric, your body arching into him as he found a rhythm, his thrusts growing faster, more urgent, each one hitting deeper, sending sparks of pleasure through you.

Before you could catch your breath, Jake’s mouth found your breast again, his lips closing over your nipple with a hungry, messy intensity. You looked down, your vision hazy, and saw only his tousled, messy hair as he suckled, his tongue flicking and circling, drool slipping down your skin as he groaned against you. The combination of his thrusts and his mouth sent you spiraling, your hands flying to his hair, gripping tightly as you whined, “Jake, oh God, yes.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, wide and glassy, filled with a needy adoration that made your heart race. He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his lips swollen and glistening, a trail of drool connecting him to your skin. “Tell me,” he murmured, his voice soft and pleading, almost a whimper. “Tell me what you want, baby, please.” 

“Harder,” you gasped, your body arching into him, your nails digging into his scalp. “Harder, Jake, I need you.”

He moaned, a low sound, and obeyed instantly, his hips snapping forward with more force, each thrust deeper, more intense, making you cry out. “Like that?” he mumbled against your skin, his voice muffled, desperate for your approval. “Is that good?”

“So good, baby,” you purred, your voice breathy and he whined in response, his thrusts growing even more eager, his mouth working harder. His lips closed around your nipple again, sucking, grazing his teeth lightly just the way you liked, his entire focus on drawing more of those sounds from you.

Your hands tightened in his hair, pulling him closer as you tilted your head back, overwhelmed. “Bite me,” you whispered, your voice firm despite the haze of pleasure. “Mark me up again.”

He groaned, the sound vibrating against your breast as he followed your order without hesitation, his teeth grazing your skin, leaving a mark that stung just enough to make you moan. His tongue soothed it immediately, and he looked up at you, eyes pleading for more. “More?” he asked, his voice shaky, his thrusts slowing slightly as he waited for your command.

“Keep going,” you ordered, your thighs tightening around him. “Don’t stop, baby, keep moving.” Your words were like a switch, and he dove back in, his mouth latching onto your other breast, sucking and licking with renewed desperation, his hips picking up speed again, driving into you with a rhythm that made your whole body shake. His whines were constant now, muffled against your skin, each one a testament to how much he wanted to please you, to be good for you.

Without warning, you felt his thumb slide between your bodies, finding your clit with a precision that made your breath catch. He pressed down, rubbing hard, fast circles, the sudden intensity igniting a fire that overwhelmed you. Your body arched, a scream tearing from your throat as the pleasure surged, too much, too fast. The world tilted, and you felt yourself squirt, the release so powerful it sent shockwaves through you, your vision blurring as you blacked out for a fleeting moment, lost in the white-hot haze of ecstasy.

Jake groaned, deep and guttural, as he felt you clench around him, your release soaking him. The sensation pushed him over the edge, and he thrust deep one last time, his hips stuttering as he came hard, spilling inside you with a broken, desperate moan.

Jake’s body kept trembling above you, his breath hot and uneven against your skin as he rode out the last waves of his release. His thumb slowed to a gentle, almost absentminded caress on your clit, and his lips stayed soft, suckling lightly, as if he couldn’t bear to pull away. His weight shifted slightly, his forehead pressing against your skin as he let out a shaky breath, his voice barely audible, muffled against you. “Did I… did I do good?” he mumbled, the words hesitant, laced with a need for your approval that made your heart twist.

You giggled softly, the sound light and warm despite the lingering haze of pleasure coursing through you. Your fingers threaded through his messy hair, stroking gently as you tilted his chin up to meet your gaze. “Oh pretty boy,” you murmured, your voice teasing but full of affection, “you did so good.” 

Jake’s face lit up, a wide, boyish grin spreading across his features, his eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and relief. The sight of him—disheveled, still panting, but beaming like he’d just won the world—made your chest ache with fondness. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice brighter now, almost shy, as his grin grew even wider.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, giggling again as you tugged lightly at his hair. He let out a soft, contented hum, and then, his lips found your collarbone first, pressing soft kisses along the delicate line, each one lingering as if he were savoring the taste of your skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest, vibrating against you. “So fucking beautiful, I can’t even—” He trailed off, his lips moving to your chest, kissing the swell of your breasts, the valley between them, then up to your throat, each kiss punctuated with a quiet, adoring whisper. “I’ve dreamed of this, you know. You like this, in my arms, letting me touch you..”

His words, soft and heartfelt, made your heart flutter, and his kisses sent warmth spreading through you. Your body responded instinctively, your walls clenching around him where he was still buried inside you, and Jake gasped, a sharp, surprised sound, his cock twitching in response. His eyes widened, flicking down to where you were joined, and he let out a shaky breath. “Fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” he muttered, his voice half-laughing, half-wrecked.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, he pulled out, his gaze locked on you as he did. His hand moved to grip his cock, and he watched, utterly mesmerized, as his cum slid out of you, glistening against your folds. “God, look at you,” he whispered.

You whined softly at the empty feeling, your body still sensitive, your thighs twitching as you shifted on the couch. The sound drew his attention back to your face, and he leaned in, kissing your cheek, like he was trying to soothe the ache he’d left behind. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his hand sliding up to rest on your hip, grounding you.

Your body was still buzzing, sensitive and trembling, and you let out a soft, shaky breath, your voice barely above a whisper. “Jake,” you said, your tone gentle, “can you get me some water?”

He pulled back immediately, his eyes soft and eager to please, nodding without hesitation. “Yeah, of course,” he said, his voice still rough from exertion but filled with care. He stood, his movements quick but careful, and crossed the room to the small table in the corner of your wardrobe, grabbing a water bottle. His hair was still a mess, his skin flushed, but there was a quiet determination in the way he moved, like nothing mattered more than taking care of you.

When he turned back, water bottle in hand, his eyes scanned the couch—and his brow furrowed when he saw it was empty. “Baby?” he called softly, a hint of confusion in his voice. Then he spotted you, standing in front of the vanity, your silhouette framed by the soft light. You were staring into the mirror, your gaze fixed on your reflection, and as Jake approached, his footsteps slowing, he saw what held your attention: the constellation of marks he’d left across your front. Red blooms and soft bite marks dotted your breasts, collarbone, and throat, a map of his devotion painted across your skin.

He stepped closer, the water bottle still clutched in his hand, his eyes following yours in the mirror. “You okay?” he asked, his voice quiet, a mix of concern and awe as he took in the sight of you. He set the bottle down on the vanity and moved behind you, his hands hovering for a moment before gently resting on your hips, his chest brushing against your back. His gaze met yours in the reflection, and he swallowed hard, his eyes tracing the marks he’d made.

Your lips curved into a slow, playful smirk, your eyes locking with his in the reflection. The shift in your expression was subtle, a glint of confidence and teasing challenge dancing in your gaze. Jake’s eyes widened slightly as he caught the change, his grip on your hips tightening instinctively.

“What’s that look for?” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. His reflection showed a flicker of uncertainty giving way to anticipation. Your smirk widened, and you tilted your head slightly, letting your body press back against him, feeling the warmth of his chest and the faint stir of his arousal.

“Just thinking,” you purred, your voice low and teasing, “about how good you look when you’re all worked up like this.” You reached back, your hand finding his, guiding it slowly up your side as you held his gaze in the mirror. “And how much I like seeing your marks on me.” Your words made his eyes darken, a soft groan escaping him as he pressed himself closer, his hands roaming up to your waist, fingers trembling slightly with renewed desire.

“You’re gonna drive me crazy,” he whispered, his lips grazing your neck, kissing one of the marks he’d left earlier, his eyes flicking back to yours in the mirror. “You like teasing me, making me lose it all over again.” His voice was half-playful, half-desperate, and you felt his body shift, pressing himself more firmly against you, already hardening again.

“Maybe,” you replied, your smirk turning wicked as you arched your back just enough to make him groan again, his hands gripping you tighter. “What are you gonna do about it, pretty boy?”

Jake’s hands tightened on your waist as your wicked smirk and teasing words sent a fresh wave of heat through him. “You’re killing me,” he rasped, his voice rough, lips brushing your ear as he pressed himself closer, the hard line of his arousal evident against your lower back. “You know that, right?”

You tilted your head, letting your smirk deepen as you shifted your hips, grinding back against him just enough to make his breath hitch. “Oh, I know,” you teased, your voice sultry and low, your eyes never leaving his in the reflection. “But you didn’t answer me, Jake. What are you gonna do about it?” 

He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering between your eyes and the marks littering your chest, a mix of pride and desire flashing across his face. “Anything you want,” he murmured, his voice almost a plea, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts gently, thumbs brushing over the sensitive marks he’d left. “Just tell me, baby. I’ll do anything.” His lips found your neck again, kissing softly, as if he couldn’t stop himself.

“Then touch me,” you commanded softly, your tone firm but laced with affection. “Show me how much you want me.” You arched your back further, pressing your chest into his hands, and he moaned softly, his fingers immediately obeying, caressing your breasts with a tenderness that quickly turned hungry. His lips trailed down to your shoulder, kissing and nipping at the skin, leaving fresh marks as he whispered, “Fuck. I really can’t get enough of you.”

He pressed himself harder against you, grinding slowly, the slick heat of him making you shiver as he whined softly into your skin. “Tell me more,” he begged, his voice shaky, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror. “Tell me what you want, please.”

You grinned, turning your head slightly to catch his lips in a quick, teasing kiss before pulling back. “Bend me over,” you said, your voice a sultry challenge, watching the way his eyes widened. “Right here, Jake. Make me feel you again.”

Jake’s reaction was instantaneous, his hands tightened on your hips, guiding you with a gentle but urgent pressure as he bent you over the vanity, your palms pressing against the cool surface for balance. The mirror reflected your flushed face, your body arched and ready, and Jake’s eyes, wild with need, locked onto yours in the reflection.

Without hesitation, he positioned himself behind you, and with one smooth, eager motion, he slipped his cock back inside you. The wet, slick sound of your connection filled the room, mingling with his broken moan and your sharp gasp as he filled you completely. The stretch was intense, perfect, sending a jolt of pleasure through your already sensitive body. Jake didn’t pause, his hips immediately finding a rhythm, thrusting in and out with a desperate urgency that made your breath catch.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, your lips parted, cheeks flushed, then your gaze shifted to Jake, his brows furrowed, mouth slightly open, eyes fixed on you like you were the only thing in his world. His thrusts were deep, steady, each one pulling a moan from you as you gripped the edge of the vanity, your body rocking with his.

“God, Jake,” you moaned, your voice breathy but teasing, “look at you—so needy for me.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours in the reflection, and he whined louder, his thrusts stuttering slightly at your words, his hands gripping your hips tighter.

“Needy for you,” he confessed, his voice breaking, rough with emotion as he leaned closer, his chest brushing your back. “Only you. Fuck, from the first day you walked into the restaurant, I was—I was obsessed.” His words spilled out, frantic, his hips still moving. “I’d spend hours on your socials, scrolling through your pictures, your videos… imagining you like this. Imagining us.” His voice trembled, almost embarrassed, but too far gone to hold back. “Every smile, every post—I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You laughed, a soft, teasing sound that made his eyes widen in the mirror. “Oh, Jake,” you purred, your voice dripping with playful mockery, “stalking me online, huh? That’s so cute.” You arched your back further, pressing yourself into him, and his whine was immediate, high and desperate, as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck, don’t say that,” he whimpered, but his hands betrayed his urgency, sliding up from your hips to cup your breasts, his fingers finding your nipples and pinching them, making you gasp. His lips latched onto your neck, leaving fresh marks. “You drive me insane,” he mumbled, his voice muffled, his thrusts growing rougher, more forceful, each one shaking the vanity beneath you. The wood creaked, the mirror rattling slightly as his hips snapped against you, the rhythm relentless.

“Jake,” you gasped, your voice breaking as the pleasure built.

“Fuck, say it again,” he begged, his voice raw, almost pleading, as he licked a stripe up your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before sucking another mark into place. “Say my name, please, baby.” His hands slid down to your hips again, gripping hard as he pounded into you, the vanity shaking so violently you thought it might give out.

“Jake,” you moaned louder, your voice trembling with the intensity, and he groaned, his hips stuttering as your words pushed him closer to the edge. “So good, baby, you’re so good,” you murmured, your own voice shaky but full of praise, knowing how much it drove him wild. 

“I can’t—fuck, you’re too much,” Jake panted, his voice raw and trembling, his hands clinging to your hips with a desperate strength, fingers digging into your skin as if you were his only anchor. His breath was hot and ragged against your neck, each exhale a shaky burst that sent shivers racing down your spine. His lips grazed your ear, his body pressed so close you could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat against your back. “Tell me what to do,” he begged, his voice breaking, a raw, pleading edge to it that made your pulse spike. “Please, baby, tell me.”

Your head spun, the heat of his body, the relentless rhythm of his thrusts, and the sheer need in his voice overwhelming you. “Deeper, Jake,” your voice breathy but firm, a sultry demand that sent a visible shudder through him. His response was immediate—a low, broken moan spilled from his lips as he adjusted, his hips angling to thrust even deeper, each movement hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your vision blur and your body arch into him, a gasp tearing from your throat.

“Like that?” he gasped, his voice trembling with desperation, his eyes flicking up to meet yours in the mirror. You could only nod, your moans growing louder, more frantic, as the pleasure built to a fever pitch, his cock driving deeper, filling you completely with each thrust. The vanity creaked beneath you, the wood groaning under the force of his movements, and you heard the faint clatter of objects shifting—your perfume bottle, a hairbrush, a small makeup compact—teetering precariously on the edge as his relentless pace rocked the surface, and with a particularly hard thrust, the objects on the surface gave way—a lipstick rolled off, clattering to the floor, followed by the soft thud of your hairbrush and the sharp clink of the perfume bottle tipping over, its contents spilling faintly, the floral scent mixing with the raw, heady air of the room.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, fingers digging in as he drove into you, his breath hitching with every movement, his lips brushing your neck, leaving wet, sloppy kisses in their wake. “Fuck, you’re so good,” you gasped, your praise making him groan louder, his thrusts stuttering slightly as your words pushed him closer to the edge.

Pleasure built, tight and unbearable, until it snapped. A scream tore from your throat as your body convulsed, your sudden climax crashing over you like a tidal wave, your walls clenching tightly around Jake, pulling him deeper. Your thighs trembled uncontrollably, your arms giving out as you collapsed forward, your cheek pressing against the cool surface of the vanity, the spilled perfume stinging your nose faintly. The mirror reflected your flushed, pleasure-drunk face, your lips parted, eyes half-closed, as your body rocked with the force of his relentless thrusts, the vanity creaking louder, more objects shifting—a small jewelry dish skittering to the edge, threatening to fall.

Jake didn’t falter, his hips driving into you with deep, hard strokes, each one pushing your body further across the vanity. “Fuck, fuck, you’re—God,” he mumbled, his voice slurred, delirious with need. His cock twitched inside you, chasing every shudder, every gasp you gave him.

Your body was pliant now, overwhelmed by the aftershocks of your release, each thrust sending fresh waves of sensation through you as you gasped and moaned, your fingers weakly clutching the mirror. 

Suddenly, his rhythm faltered, his thrusts growing erratic, and you felt him tense behind you. With a low, guttural moan, Jake threw his head back, his eyes squeezing shut as he came, his release spilling deep inside you. His hips stuttered, pressing flush against you as he groaned loudly, the sound broken, his body trembling with the intensity of it. His hands breath heaving, his lips parted as he gasped for air, still lost in the haze of you.

You were spent, your own breaths uneven as the intensity of your shared pleasure lingered. Jake’s hands softened on your hips, his fingers tracing gentle patterns as he exhaled shakily. Slowly, carefully, he pulled out, and you winced at the sudden empty feeling, a soft whimper escaping your lips at the sensitivity.

Jake’s eyes snapped to yours in the mirror, concern flickering across his flushed face. Before you could assure him you were fine, he maneuvered you with surprising tenderness, turning you to face him and wrapping his arms around you. Your legs felt like jelly, and you clung to him, your arms looping around his neck as he lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the plush couch across the room. His touch was steady as he laid you down gently, making sure you were comfortable, his eyes never leaving your face.

“Stay here,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead before pressing a quick, reassuring kiss to your lips. He straightened up, still a little unsteady himself, and disappeared into the bathroom connected to the room. You heard the faint sound of running water, and moments later, he returned with a warm, damp cloth in his hand.

Jake knelt beside the couch, his movements careful as he gently parted your thighs, his touch soft. “Just gonna clean you up, okay?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for confirmation. You nodded, still catching your breath, and he began to wipe you down with the warm cloth, his hands gentle, cleaning away the evidence of your shared intensity. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, almost to himself, his free hand resting lightly on your thigh. 

With a small smile and a soft tug, you reached for him, your fingers curling around his arm as you pulled him down toward you. Jake let out a surprised, soft laugh, his body following your lead without resistance, collapsing gently onto the couch beside you. His face ended up nestled against your chest, his warm breath fanning across your skin as he settled in close. You smiled, your fingers sliding into his messy hair, playing with the soft strands, tugging lightly as you traced soothing patterns against his scalp.

Jake sighed, a contented hum vibrating against your chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. His lips brushed your skin, not hungry, but soft and affectionate, as he nuzzled into you, his cheek pressed against the curve of your breast. A wide, boyish smile spread across his face, his eyes half-closed, radiating warmth and adoration. “This is perfect,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against you, his arms tightening slightly as if he never wanted to let go. “Just wanna stay like this forever.”

You giggled softly, your fingers continuing to play with his hair, twirling the strands as you felt his body relax against yours, his breathing slowing, his smile never fading. The weight of him, the way he melted into you, made your heart swell, and you pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, savoring the quiet, intimate warmth of the moment.

A/n: reblogs and commentary are appreciated!!

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[swiftjay23]

𝓟it 𝓢top

⚠️ Reading may result in obsession, and a lifelong inability to look at gloves, corsets, or F1 cars the same way.

Some races are won on the track, but the most unforgettable victories happen in private.

Invited to watch the F1 race, you, a high-profile model, cross paths with Park Jay, a cocky, effortlessly handsome driver at a glamorous pre-race gala. Sparks fly, words bite, and before you know it, a flirtatious bet spirals further than either of you could have predicted...

Warnings: Explicit sexual content for mature audiences (MDNI- 18+ STRICTLY), including vaginal penetration, fingering, grinding, oral teasing, drawn-out foreplay, removal of gloves and corset, orgasm, messy aftercare, intense sexual tension, confined-space sex, and consensual sexual activity.

Genre: Contemporary Romance, Smut, F1 AU

Pairing: F1 Driver!Jay x Model!Reader

Word Count: 13,717 (TAKE AWAY MY INTERNET-)

To: The anon who requested this in my inbox <3

@lyserie: wifey, pls take away my internet access

It had taken you years, years of starving yourself in ways that had nothing to do with food.

While other girls were still sleeping through late lectures or dragging themselves to morning shifts at coffee shops, you were learning how to smile on demand. How to master the art of stillness, of becoming a canvas that could be painted over and stripped bare at the same time. You weren’t born into the industry; no family name to slip you in through the side doors, no wealthy parents pulling strings. You built yourself from nothing, brick by brittle brick. Every audition, every rejection, every night of watching someone else step into the light while you packed your bags and swallowed down the ache, it all sharpened you.

And eventually, it paid off.

The covers, the campaigns, the glossy spreads that made people stop on street corners just to stare up at a three-story version of you. You’d become the face of brands whispered about in boardrooms and splashed across neon skylines. The kind of woman who made headlines simply for walking into a room.

But all the while, you’d pushed everything else away. Friendships that once felt permanent had withered under your absence. Family dinners became distant obligations, then rare appearances, then nothing at all. Lovers turned into shadows you didn’t have time to chase. Every hour you weren’t perfecting yourself was an hour someone else could get ahead.

And now, standing in front of a mirror lined with golden bulbs, hair and makeup sculpted into something nearly divine, you finally had the thing you’d clawed after for so long. The beauty, the power, the recognition.

But not the warmth. Not the easy laughter that once used to echo through your chest. Not someone who looked at you and saw more than the shine.

You had given yourself to the world and the world had devoured you, left you gleaming on the outside but hollow where it mattered.

And so you walked into the gala, champagne flute balanced in your hand, diamonds catching the light, a smile that belonged more to the cameras than to yourself. You were radiant. You were untouchable. You were unbearably alone.

The gala breathed money. It clung to the air like perfume, heavy and heady, the kind of scent that burned the back of your throat if you inhaled too deeply. Crystal chandeliers dripped overhead, scattering light across marble floors polished to a mirror’s shine. The hum of conversation rolled like an ocean swell, booming laughter, the low grind of deals disguised as pleasantries, champagne glasses clinking like the percussion to an orchestra of wealth.

Men in crisp suits and women in gowns that sparkled under the lights floated in circles, their smiles too white, their laughter too sharp, their eyes darting for the next person more powerful than the one they were speaking to. Every corner of the room was designed to dazzle and intimidate: golden candelabras, tables drowning in white roses, waiters moving like shadows with silver trays of hors d'oeuvres.

And in the middle of it all, there was you.

Not dripping in jewels, not wrapped in glitter. No, you had chosen simplicity as your weapon. A gown of liquid satin that clung and draped in all the right places, black as spilled ink, or was it red, deep enough to look like blood under the lights? It didn’t matter. The fabric shifted with every movement like it had been sewn from fire itself. Elbow-length gloves embraced your arms, a deliberate contrast to the bare curve of your shoulders. Your hair had been knotted into something impossibly intricate, each strand held in place like it had been sculpted by a master’s hand, a crown without jewels.

You did not blend into the gala. You commanded it. Radiated it. Like a flame in a room full of moths.

People flocked to you, industry giants, heirs to fortunes, celebrities accustomed to adoration. They greeted you with too-wide grins, voices curling with false warmth. You sipped champagne, lips barely wetting the glass, and returned each word with a practiced ease. A tilt of your head here, a curve of your smile there. To anyone watching, it looked effortless. To you, it was exhausting.

Because beneath the glitter, you saw it all for what it was. Pretension. Greed wrapped in silk ties. Vanity polished into diamonds. They weren’t here to connect, to celebrate, to live, they were here to posture, to circle each other like wolves disguised in satin. And you, draped in satin yourself, were expected to play the part.

So you laughed at jokes that weren’t funny. You nodded at stories told a thousand times before. You let their gazes linger on you, drinking in the illusion you’d perfected. All the while, you felt the quiet churn of your thoughts: how hollow it all was, how loud the silence inside you felt even amidst the roar of money and champagne.

Yet still, you glowed. Because even loneliness can wear the most dazzling mask.

The gala was noise, frenzied, glittering, suffocating noise, until the crowd rippled. Not loudly, not even obviously. Just a subtle shift, like a current changing direction, faces turning toward the doorway. You didn’t need to glance up to know someone important had arrived; you felt it in the way the laughter momentarily faltered, in the tilt of heads craning for a look. And when you finally did lift your eyes, there he was.

Jay. Park Jongseong. Red Bull’s wild card. Their most successful driver under 25. Heck, even their most successful driver yet.

He was the kind of handsome that didn’t have to try, but still looked as though the world had been styled to frame him. A black suit tailored within an inch of perfection, lapels catching the faintest glint of chandelier light. His hair was slicked back, neat but with a looseness that made it seem unfairly natural. He walked like the room belonged to him, long strides unhurried, one hand tucked into the pocket of his trousers, the other loosely holding a glass of champagne.

The drivers were always celebrities in their own right, but he carried it differently, less polish, more gravity. Where others smiled too big, he smirked. Where others chased attention, he drew it without lifting a finger.

He moved like a storm through the room, not hurried, not loud, but inevitable. The cut of his suit was immaculate, shoulders broad and sharp, his every stride measured in a way that made the world itself seem to adjust around him. His hair, slicked back to reveal the clean, chiseled lines of his face, caught the light in a sheen that made the women watching practically swoon. One hand in his pocket, the other lazily cradling a flute of champagne, he radiated the kind of confidence that didn’t need to be announced. It simply was.

And then he was in front of you.

“Well, well, well,” he murmured, voice smooth as silk as his eyes swept over you in a deliberate, almost insolent drag. He sipped his champagne, lips grazing the rim of the glass, and lowered it with a faint smirk. “Didn’t expect to see a runway doll at a race. I’d pegged you to be more…” He tilted his head, pretending to consider. “…magazine type.”

You raised your brows, refusing to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze, though the height difference forced him to look down at you(as criminal as it was distracting). You let the corner of your lips curl into something equal parts amused and sharp.

“Funny,” you said smoothly, swirling the champagne in your own glass before taking a delicate sip. “I didn’t expect a glorified taxi driver to make it past valet parking. Yet here you are.”

The smirk deepened. His gaze flickered down your gown, slow enough to be noticed, quick enough to deny. “Ouch. Do all cover girls bite, or just the ones who think they’re too good for small talk?”

“Small talk?” you echoed, laughter feathering your words. “I call it ‘verbal warm-up.’ You know, for the real conversation. Not sure you’d survive one of those.”

“Oh, I can survive plenty,” he drawled, taking another sip. His eyes gleamed with a spark you recognized instantly, the same one you wore in interviews, photoshoots, anywhere a camera dared to linger. The spark of someone who played to win.

You leaned closer, enough for your perfume to curl into the air between you, sweet and heady. “Then tell me, driver boy,” you murmured, “do you always start conversations by insulting women, or am I just special?”

“You’re definitely special,” he admitted without hesitation, though the smirk never left. “Most women would’ve giggled and taken it as a compliment by now.”

“Well,” you shot back, tilting your head, “lucky for you, I’m not most women.”

He laughed, low, genuine, surprised. The sound curled around you like smoke, warm and irritatingly pleasant. “God, you’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” you echoed, feigning innocence as you lifted your glass to your lips again. “I’m in a satin gown, holding a glass of champagne. What’s so dangerous about that?”

His eyes flickered down, not just at the gown but at the way it sculpted against your body, then back up, bold enough not to pretend otherwise. “That’s exactly what makes you dangerous. You know it. And so does everyone else in this room.”

You hummed, letting silence stretch, savoring the weight of his gaze. “Tell me, Jay, do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk?”

“Not when the company’s this good.” He grinned, sharp and bright, tilting his glass in mock salute. “Besides, you’re the one keeping me here.”

You laughed, really laughed this time, surprising even yourself. “You’ve known me for, what, three minutes? And you’ve already convinced yourself I’m the highlight of your night?”

“Am I wrong?” he countered.

You hesitated, just long enough for him to notice, then masked it with a smirk. “You’re cocky.”

“And you’re pretending you don’t like it.”

“Please,” you scoffed, stepping half a pace closer, letting the electricity hum in the space between you. “I’ve seen cocky. You’re not special.”

“Then why are you still talking to me?”

You opened your mouth, closed it again, then tilted your head, amused. “Because watching you dig your own grave is… entertaining.”

“Good,” he said easily, leaning just enough to bring his voice closer, lower. “Because if I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.”

The air crackled. Neither of you moved away.

Around you, the gala carried on, music swelling, conversations bubbling, but in that moment, the world seemed to have shrunk to just the two of you: your sharp words, his sharper grin, the champagne fizzing on your tongues and the weight of unspoken challenge sparking between your bodies.

Finally, you arched a brow. “So, what’s the endgame here, Jay? You gonna keep throwing lines at me until one sticks?”

He smirked, slow and certain. “No. I’ll just win tomorrow, and then you’ll owe me a date.”

You blinked, startled by the audacity, then laughed outright. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He lifted his glass, took a deliberate sip. “If I win tomorrow, you go out with me. No excuses.”

“And if you don’t?” you challenged, amused.

“Then you can call me your chauffeur for a day,” he shot back without missing a beat. “Drive you wherever you want. Carry your bags. Hell, I’ll even shine your shoes if it makes you smile.”

Your lips curved into something between a laugh and a scoff. “You’re insane.”

“No,” he corrected, leaning just enough that his cologne wrapped around you, dizzying and unfair. “I’m confident.”

You held his gaze, long and unflinching, your smile sharpening. “Fine. You’ve got a deal.”

He grinned, victorious, before straightening again and slipping his free hand back into his pocket. “Good. Don’t forget to wear something nice.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart thudded harder than it should have. “Win first, driver boy. Then we’ll talk.”

“Oh, I will,” he promised, turning to leave, his voice trailing behind him like smoke. “And when I do, you’d better be ready.”

And just like that, he was gone, swallowed back into the glittering crowd, leaving you with a fizzing glass, a pounding heart, and the unnerving realization that for the first time in a long time, you were excited. The comments hung between you, sharp-edged and taunting, like the first move in a game neither of you had agreed to play, but both were suddenly dying to win.

The morning of the race began quietly. Not in the literal sense, the city had never known quiet. Even from the hotel balcony, the hum of engines was a low growl carried in the wind, the streets already crawling with fans draped in flags and sponsors, chanting names that echoed like a war cry. Helicopters swept overhead in slow, lazy arcs, their blades chopping through the haze of exhaust and sun. Somewhere below, a street band played, horns clashing in messy joy, swallowed up by the roar of traffic.

But inside your room, there was quiet. The kind of quiet that presses against your chest, heavy and insistent. Curtains drawn against the sharp morning light. A glass of half-finished champagne abandoned on the nightstand, the bubbles long gone. You sat before the vanity, untouched makeup scattered like soldiers at rest, and stared at yourself in the mirror.

You looked the same as you always did. Beautiful. Composed. Unshakably polished, as if a thousand lenses were already trained on you. And yet, something was off. Something unsettled the way you carried yourself, the way your lips wanted to curve even when no one was watching.

You blamed him. Jay. Goddamn Park Jongseong.

The memory of last night hung around you like smoke. The sharp gleam in his eyes when he’d leaned down, smirking, the deliberate way he’d sipped his champagne as if the entire room existed only for his amusement. The words he’d left behind, “When I win, you’ll owe me a date,” were etched into your skull with irritating clarity.

You should’ve dismissed it. You had dismissed men like him before: cocky, self-satisfied, sure the world bent at their feet. And usually, you did it with ease. A polite smile, a laugh that wasn’t a laugh, and then you moved on, untouchable. But now, sitting here, your cheeks betrayed you. Dusting themselves pink like they were conspiring against your will. And worse, you caught yourself smiling.

Not the forced, calculated smile you’d perfected for the cameras. Not the one designed to be glossy and unreachable. This one was softer, unbidden, curling at the corners of your lips like sunlight creeping into a darkened room. You pressed your lips together until it faded, annoyed at your own reflection. You weren’t supposed to feel this way. Not about him. Not about anyone. You had spent years ensuring your life had no room for distraction, no space for weakness.

And yet, you thought of his laugh, low and startled, when you’d insulted him without blinking. You thought of the way he’d leaned closer, confident but not suffocating, as though he was daring you to pull away and knowing you wouldn’t. You thought of the height difference, how you’d refused to tilt your chin up, yet still felt the gravity of him hovering above you.

You cursed under your breath and reached for the corset. The gown for today’s event lay draped across the bed, another work of art you were expected to embody, this one even bolder, cinched tight at the waist, laced at the sides so snug it left no space for breath, only posture. You slid the fabric up your body, cool satin hugging your skin, and began threading the strings.

One pull. Two. Three. Each tug was practiced, mechanical. You’d laced yourself into thousands of gowns before, your hands knowing the rhythm as well as your heartbeat. But today, the motion felt different. Every pull was punctuated by thought. By him.

You imagined the sharp way he’d smirk if he could see you like this, pulling yourself tight, sculpting your body into perfection. The way his gaze had flicked across you last night, slow and unashamed, as though he’d been cataloging every detail for later. You tugged harder at the strings, annoyed by the heat that flushed your skin.

Stop, you told yourself. Stop thinking about him. He was a driver, a man built for speed and adrenaline, a creature of noise and motion. You were not. You were structure. Precision. Elegance. You belonged to still frames and glossy covers, not engines and fire.

And yet, when you pictured him behind the wheel, dark eyes narrowed, jaw set with determination, you couldn’t deny the pull that tightened somewhere low in your stomach. Adrenaline, yes, but not the kind you’d ever known. His world was dangerous, unpredictable, alive. Yours had been carefully painted, curated into something flawless but flat.

For the first time, the thought of stepping into someone else’s orbit didn’t feel like surrender. It felt like freedom. You let out a shaky breath, pulling the final string taut until the corset hugged your ribs. Standing, you faced yourself again in the mirror. The gown sculpted you into a vision: powerful, immaculate, untouchable. The very image you’d worked for years to perfect.

And yet, behind your eyes, something flickered. A spark. A restless energy that had nothing to do with the gown, or the gala, or the endless rotation of cameras waiting outside. It was him. Jay, with his smug grin and his impossible confidence. Jay, who had dared to turn the spotlight back on you when you were used to being the one controlling it. Jay, who had made a bet that should have been ridiculous but somehow left you breathless with anticipation.

You hated it. You loved it.

As you slid on your gloves, the silk whispering against your skin, you thought of his voice again: “When I win, you’ll owe me a date.” The arrogance in it, the certainty. You should have rolled your eyes, brushed it off, forgotten it as easily as you’d forgotten every man who had ever tried to play games with you.

But instead, you found yourself wondering what it would be like if he did win. If you had to sit across from him at some dimly lit restaurant, champagne in hand, his gaze fixed on you the way it had been last night, like you were the only thing worth seeing.

Your stomach twisted. Not with dread, but with something warmer. Something that terrified you. Because all your life had been colors and magazines, angles and flashes, practiced smiles that never reached your eyes. You had given the world perfection, and the world had applauded, but it had never set you free.

And now, because of one arrogant driver with slicked-back hair and a mouth that wouldn’t quit, you felt something stir. Something reckless. Something alive. You caught yourself smiling again, soft and dangerous, as you fastened the final clasp of your gown.

Perhaps, you thought, just this once, you’d let yourself lose control.

The morning bled into midday, and with it came the ceremony. These events were never about the race itself, not for people like you. For the VIPs, the sponsors, the faces splashed across glossy pages and endorsement deals, it was a theater of power. Cameras whirred, journalists crowded behind velvet ropes, and every handshake, every posed photo was meant to be consumed by the world and digested into headlines.

You moved through it with the same grace you always had.

The organizers guided you to the paddock, a labyrinth of tents and banners bearing the names of corporations worth billions. Men in branded polo shirts and women in tailored blazers buzzed around, clipboards in hand, radios crackling at their belts. The air smelled of engine oil, rubber, and champagne, luxury woven seamlessly with raw machinery.

When you entered the cordoned-off lounge, every head turned. Of course they did. They always did. You wore your armor well: the corseted gown, the silk gloves, heels that clicked against the polished floor with authority. Your expression was composed, your smile measured, your eyes carrying the weight of someone who knew she was being watched from every angle. Cameras flashed immediately, the photographers practically salivating. A few called your name, trying to coax a bigger smile, but you gave them only what you wanted to give, nothing more.

The introductions began.

One by one, you were presented to the drivers, the rising stars and seasoned champions alike. They lined up in their suits, fireproof uniforms in a riot of colors: Ferrari red, Mercedes silver, McLaren orange. Each man bore the same smile, practiced and polite, the same firm handshake, the same boilerplate comment about how nice it was to meet you. You responded with equal politeness, words flowing from your lips as smoothly as champagne from a bottle.

You shook hands with the young one whose fanbase screamed at pitches high enough to shatter glass. You posed for a photo with the veteran whose records stretched back a decade. You laughed at a joke from another, though you forgot it as soon as you stepped away.

It was all the same. Faces, smiles, cameras, hands. A dance you had done before in different ballrooms, different industries. A dance that always ended in exhaustion.

And then, Jay.

He wasn’t first in line, nor last. He stood a little apart, his helmet tucked casually under one arm, the other hand resting at his side, gloved in black. His uniform was a deep, commanding blue trimmed with streaks of neon yellow and sponsor patches, Red Bull stitched across his chest, the logo gleaming under the harsh lights. He wore the suit like it was designed for him, every line emphasizing the long cut of his frame, the breadth of his shoulders.

He looked devastatingly composed. Effortlessly gorgeous. And entirely, unmistakably aware of it.

Your gaze found his almost against your will. His eyes locked onto yours instantly, sharp and unflinching, as though he had been waiting for this exact moment. A smirk tugged at his mouth, subtle, dangerous, familiar. The official beside you cleared his throat, reciting Jay’s name as though anyone in the world could’ve mistaken him. “And this is—”

But the introduction was unnecessary. You already knew who he was. And he, clearly, knew you. Your hand extended before the words even finished leaving the man’s mouth. Elegant. Steady. Practiced.

Jay shifted his helmet into the crook of his arm, freeing his other hand. The black glove enveloped your silk one, the leather smooth but firm against your skin.

It should’ve been quick. A handshake, polite, forgettable. The kind that was made for cameras, destined to be captured, circulated, forgotten by everyone except the tabloids that thrived on stills. But it wasn’t. Because neither of you let go.

His grip was warm through the glove, strong but not crushing. Your fingers curved against his palm before you realized it, and his thumb pressed ever so slightly into the back of your hand, deliberate enough to be felt but subtle enough to be excused. You held his gaze, refusing to look away, though your heart betrayed you with its sudden, traitorous thud.

Around you, cameras flashed. The official moved on with his practiced spiel. Voices buzzed, laughter erupted somewhere nearby. And still, neither of you moved.

The smirk deepened on his lips. Your lips quirked in response, unbidden, dangerous.

And in that suspended silence, something happened. Something that had nothing to do with the spectacle, the race, the cameras. Something private, unspeakable, electric. His eyes raked over you then, slow and deliberate.

Not the cursory glance of politeness. Not the quick sweep of a gentleman acknowledging beauty. No, his gaze lingered. Started at the curve of your shoulder, the slope of your collarbone, the satin draped across your ribs. It slid lower, tracing the corseted lines of your waist, the impossible cinch of fabric against your body. Down, down, a lazy, predatory drag, until his eyes reached the arch of your hip beneath the gown, the bare sliver of skin where silk met glove.

And then, just as slowly, his gaze returned to your face. His smirk said everything. Your stomach tightened. Heat climbed your throat. You should’ve pulled away. Should’ve let go, broken the moment before it became obvious. But you didn’t. Your hand stayed in his, your body rooted, your chin lifted with defiance you weren’t sure you actually felt.

Finally, after what must have been far too long, you let your fingers slip from his grasp. The cameras snapped furiously, capturing the moment as though it were another performance, though none of them could have understood what passed between you in that silence.

You turned, smiled politely at the next driver waiting his turn, and spoke the rehearsed words you’d spoken a dozen times already. But your mind wasn’t on him. It wasn’t on any of them.

It was on Jay. Still watching you. Still smirking. Still standing there in his Red Bull suit like the embodiment of speed and fire, with the audacity to look at you as though he already knew you were his. And for the first time, you didn’t feel bored. You didn’t feel hollow. You felt… alive.

The sky hung low and heavy over the circuit, clouds bruised with the promise of rain. The weather reports had been debating all morning whether it would hold or whether the heavens would open and drench the track. Everyone knew how unpredictable this part of the world could be.

“Cloud cover at fifty percent, crosswinds picking up on the main straight,” the commentator’s voice crackled over the massive screens as you entered the VIP box. “We’ll see how long those mediums last if the drizzle comes through.”

Inside, the air-conditioning hummed faintly, champagne flutes glittered on silver trays, and well-dressed men and women leaned over the glass railing to peer down at the pit lane below. But your eyes weren’t on the luxury. Not on the crystal chandeliers or the exclusive catering.

They were on him. The pit lane buzzed with motion. Mechanics in matching fireproof uniforms swarmed like bees, checking tire pressure, tightening wheel nuts, double-checking telemetry screens. Drivers emerged from the garages one by one, helmets tucked under their arms as they walked toward the grid.

Jay was easy to spot.

The navy-and-yellow Red Bull suit clung to his tall frame, the sponsor logos sharp against the fabric. His helmet gleamed under the floodlights, a glossy navy shell with streaks of electric yellow curling like lightning bolts. He carried himself with the casual arrogance of someone who knew all eyes were on him. And yours most of all.

Engines screamed to life, one after another, until the air itself vibrated with their roar. The sound was physical, pressing against your chest, rattling through your bones. The formation lap began: twenty cars crawling forward, weaving side to side to heat their tires, engines snarling like caged predators.

From above, you could see them snake through the corners, a kaleidoscope of colors, Ferrari red, Mercedes silver, McLaren orange, Red Bull navy, each car shifting, braking, accelerating, warming up before the real violence began.

Jay’s car glided smoothly, each swerve controlled, precise. The commentator’s voice carried over the speakers: “Eyes on Jay Park today, starting P3, right behind the Ferraris. He’s been in incredible form all weekend. If anyone’s going to challenge for the win, it’ll be him.”

Your pulse kicked. The cars lined up one by one, sliding into their grid slots with surgical precision. Jay’s Red Bull slotted neatly into third place, the neon-yellow nose pointed hungrily at the long straight ahead.

“Thirty seconds to lights out,” came the call.

You leaned forward, breath caught in your throat, hands gripping the railing though you didn’t remember moving. The lights blinked above the track, one, two, three, four, five. The engines screamed louder, revs climbing to an almost unbearable pitch. The lights went out. And the race exploded. Cars launched off the line, tires spitting smoke, engines howling. The front row Ferraris shot forward, but Jay’s Red Bull was right there, slipstreaming behind.

“Great launch from Jay! He’s side by side into Turn One—”

The first corner was chaos. Cars jostled for position, brakes locking, smoke pouring as twenty drivers tried to squeeze through a bend barely wide enough for two. A McLaren clipped the curb, sparks flying. The crowd roared as one car spun off, gravel spraying.

Jay didn’t flinch. He dove into the inside line, inches from disaster, threading the needle between a Ferrari and a Mercedes.

“He’s through! Jay moves up to P2!”

You gasped, a hand flying to your chest. Every inch of your body buzzed with adrenaline that wasn’t even yours. The laps blurred into a relentless rhythm: engines screaming down the straights, tires squealing through corners, DRS wings snapping open for overtakes. The commentators shouted over the roar:

“Lap 12 of 58, Ferrari leads, Jay right on his tail, only three-tenths behind. He’s within DRS range!”

You could see it, his car glued to the rear wing of the scarlet Ferrari, the two machines dancing at 200 miles per hour, separated by barely the width of a coin. Every lap, Jay tested the Ferrari’s defense, feinting left, then right, darting into braking zones only to back out at the last second.

The tension was unbearable. The whole VIP lounge buzzed, people shouting, clapping, sipping champagne with feigned calm. Someone turned to you, grinning.

“Who are you rooting for?”

You froze. The words tangled on your tongue. You should’ve laughed, deflected, named a team at random. But your eyes betrayed you, glued to the navy blur darting after the Ferrari, your heart hammering in your throat. You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Because the truth was obvious.

“Here we go, lap 20, and the pit window’s opening.”

The Ferrari blinked into the pits first, mechanics swarming with military precision. Fresh mediums went on in 2.3 seconds, and the red car screeched back out.

Now it was Jay’s chance.

He dove into the pit lane, speed limiter kicking in, the roar of the engine strangled to a whine. His car slid to a halt, mechanics descending in a blur, tires off, new ones on, fuel adjustments, wing tweak.

“Two-point-one seconds! That’s the fastest stop so far today, brilliant work from Red Bull!”

Your nails dug crescents into your palm. He shot out of the pit lane, merging back onto the track just as the Ferrari rounded the bend. Side by side.

“Jay’s ahead! That pit stop has jumped him into the lead!”

The crowd erupted. Your chest felt like it might burst. By lap 32, the clouds finally broke. The first drops spattered across the glass of the VIP box, fat and heavy. Within minutes, the drizzle turned to a slick sheen on the track. Cars struggled for grip, tires screaming, spray kicking up in great rooster tails behind them.

“Conditions are changing, do they risk another pit for inters, or gamble it out on slicks?”

You held your breath. Strategy calls made and broke races. “Box, box,” came the commentator, repeating the radio chatter. “Jay’s going in for intermediates.”

The pit stop was flawless again, but by the time he rejoined, the Ferrari had clawed back the lead. For the next ten laps, the two cars battled wheel-to-wheel, skidding, sliding, hearts of pure steel guiding them through sheets of rain. Your glass sat untouched. Your food cold. You didn’t move. Couldn’t. Your world narrowed to two cars slicing through water, engines howling like beasts, every camera angle flashing Jay’s car back onto the big screens.

“Five laps to go, Ferrari leads, Jay right behind, the gap under half a second!”

The tension in the lounge was unbearable. Even the wealthiest sponsors were on their feet, ties loosened, champagne forgotten. The commentators screamed over the roar: “Jay is closing in, down the main straight, he’s got DRS, he’s gaining, he’s gaining, he’s alongside!”

The two cars barreled into the corner side by side, wheels inches apart, spray blinding. For a moment, it looked like disaster, two titans refusing to yield, physics be damned. But Jay held firm. Braked later. Cut inside.

“He’s done it! Jay takes the lead!”

Your vision blurred for a heartbeat, heat flooding your face. You didn’t cheer, you couldn’t. But your chest rose with a silent, desperate plea: Hold it. Hold it. Win. The rain eased, the track still slick, the crowd on their feet. The Ferrari was relentless, lunging at every corner, but Jay’s Red Bull was unshakable. He defended like a man possessed, every move precise, every risk perfectly calculated.

Down the final straight, engines at full scream, tires slicing through spray, the checkered flag waved. “Jay Park wins the Grand Prix!”

The roar was deafening. Engines, crowd, commentary all collapsing into chaos. His car flashed across the line, fist punching into the air from the cockpit. Fireworks exploded above the drenched track, the navy-and-yellow blur crowned in smoke and rain. Around you, people cheered, clapped, toasted glasses. But you stood frozen, breathless, every nerve alive.

Because all you saw was him. Helmet glinting. Suit drenched in victory. And though he couldn’t see you through the glass and distance, though he had no reason to look, your eyes stayed locked on him.

The man you swore you wouldn’t care about. The man you couldn’t stop hoping would win. And he had.  The floodlights washed the track in white-gold brilliance as the winning cars rolled into parc fermé, each nose painted with streaks of rubber and spray, engines ticking with residual heat. Mechanics vaulted the barriers, their whoops and shouts swallowed by the thunder of the crowd.

And then the winners emerged. Jay climbed out of his Red Bull, helmet under his arm, chest rising and falling under the cling of his fireproof undershirt. His hair was plastered damp against his forehead, sweat and rain dripping down his temples, his jaw set in a victorious grin that cut straight through the noise. He slapped hands with his pit crew, pointed up toward the stands, then climbed the steps toward the podium.

The crowd surged with sound. Red, yellow, and navy flags rippled like waves across the grandstands. Cameras flashed so brightly the stage looked carved from starlight.

You pressed a hand against the glass of the VIP suite, drawn forward without realizing it. Everyone around you was clapping, cheering, some lifting their phones to record the moment. But for you, there was only him.

Jay. Standing taller than the rest, his damp suit gleaming under the lights, the golden trophy cradled against his side.

The national anthem began. The first-place flag unfurled upward on the massive screen behind him, accompanied by a triumphant swell of brass. Jay didn’t move, didn’t flinch, only stood there with his hands behind his back, chin tipped upward. The definition of untouchable.

Your throat tightened. He had won. And though you hadn’t said it aloud, though you hadn’t even let yourself think it too clearly, you’d wanted this. Needed it. As if his victory was some private promise only the two of you shared. The anthem ended. Applause shattered the stillness. And then the champagne came out. The bottles were shoved into the drivers’ hands, the corks popped, foam bursting in white arcs across the stage. Jay was merciless. He doused the Ferrari driver to his left, soaking him from head to toe, before tilting the bottle over his own head, droplets glittering as they ran down the planes of his face. His smile was wolfish, uncontained, the kind of expression that lit something dangerous low in your stomach.

And then, just for a heartbeat, his gaze lifted. Straight toward the VIP box. Toward you. It was impossible, ridiculous even. The crowd was tens of thousands deep, the lights blinding, cameras flashing like fireworks. He shouldn’t have been able to pick you out.

And yet. Your chest squeezed. He smirked, slow and deliberate, his tongue brushing the corner of his mouth as though sealing some private joke. And you knew with a bone-deep certainty, he was looking at you.

The chaos spilled upward. Drivers, team principals, mechanics, and sponsors flooded toward the hospitality suites. Journalists darted through the hallways, recorders outstretched, their questions drowned in the avalanche of congratulations and champagne-soaked laughter.

The VIP box, once a quiet, pristine space, now hummed with bodies and noise. Glasses clinked, hands clasped, everyone desperate to shake the hands of the men who had just survived sixty laps of fire and rain. The celebration swelled until the walls themselves seemed to hum. Laughter ricocheted off glass, champagne sprayed again when someone shook a bottle too hard, music thrummed low from hidden speakers. The VIP suite had transformed into a living organism, pulsing with bodies, with congratulations, with too-loud stories of how everyone had known Jay would win.

You played your part. Smiles, nods, answering questions you barely heard. Someone pressed a glass into your hand; you sipped once, twice, but the bubbles went flat on your tongue.

You found yourself swept along in it, smiling, nodding, exchanging polite congratulations with people you neither knew nor cared about. Every handshake felt meaningless, every compliment hollow. Because you were waiting. And then, he was there.

Jay entered the box with the calm of someone who’d just conquered the world. His suit was unzipped halfway down, exposing the cling of his undershirt to the line of his chest, the fabric damp and translucent from sweat and champagne. His fireproof gloves hung from one hand, his helmet from the other. His hair was a mess, dark strands plastered wetly against his forehead, some sticking out in defiance, others dripping down the nape of his neck. He looked devastating.

And he knew it.

Everyone surged toward him at once, sponsors, investors, wide-eyed admirers. He bore it with effortless arrogance, smiling when necessary, clasping shoulders, nodding at congratulations. He was magnetic in the crowd, the center of gravity around which the whole room tilted. A sponsor laughed too loudly at something he said. A woman in glittering emerald leaned too close. His teammates thumped his back, someone shoved another glass at him. He bore it all with the same infuriating ease, the damp mess of his hair only making him look more untouchable. But there was a subtle impatience in the way his gaze roamed the room, as though he was searching for something, no, for someone.

You. When his eyes landed on you, it was like being struck. The noise of the room dimmed, blurred, until all that remained was the slow, deliberate way he started moving in your direction. Each step purposeful, predatory, his damp hair glinting under the chandelier light.

Your breath caught. He cut through the crowd until he was in front of you. The space around you seemed to fold inward, collapsing the world into the two of you alone. You extended your hand, because that was what protocol demanded. Formality. Politeness. He took it. His glove was still on, rough, ridged fabric that scratched lightly against your palm. But beneath it, the strength of his grip was unmistakable. He didn’t let go. Not immediately. Not even after a beat too long.

Instead, he leaned in, the scent of sweat and champagne clinging to his skin, his lips brushing dangerously close to your ear. “Looks like I won, sweetheart,” he murmured, low enough for only you to hear.

The words lit through you like fire, scorching down your spine, pooling heat low in your stomach. You inhaled sharply, but he was already pulling back, the smirk etched deep into his face, his hand finally releasing yours with deliberate slowness, as though the separation was his decision alone.

And then he was gone, turning back to the crowd, shaking more hands, collecting more congratulations. Leaving you rooted in place, heart pounding, hand tingling with the ghost of his touch.

The celebration swelled around you, champagne flowing, laughter echoing off the high glass walls. But none of it mattered. None of it touched you. Because all you could hear was his voice, curling like smoke in your ear.

Looks like I won, sweetheart.

And for the first time in years, the forced smiles didn’t feel so heavy. For the first time, the world felt alive. You tried to slip into the background. Found a quieter corner near the balcony, away from the crush of bodies. The night air slid cool against your flushed skin, city lights glittering beyond the glass. But it didn’t matter.

He found you anyway. Jay detached himself from the throng with a sharpness that almost startled you, like he’d been waiting for the first excuse. His glass abandoned on a table, his helmet slung casually under one arm, his damp undershirt clinging to every line of his torso. He cut through the chatter, stride long and certain, eyes locked on you as though there weren’t fifty other people between.

Your pulse spiked.

He didn’t slow when he reached you. Didn’t hesitate. He simply stepped into your space, close enough that the damp heat of him pushed against the cool air, close enough that you could see the droplets of champagne still clinging to his lashes.

“Enjoy the show?” he murmured, voice low, pitched just for you.

The corner of your mouth twitched despite yourself. “You’re very sure of yourself.”

“I usually am.” He smirked, that same one from the podium, slow and curling. “Though I have to admit…” His gaze swept deliberately over you, slow enough to make your breath falter. “…winning feels better when I know who’s watching.”

You hated the way your stomach flipped. Hated it, and wanted more. Before you could answer, someone called his name across the room. A sponsor, beckoning with an eager wave. Jay ignored it. His attention stayed locked on you, heavy and unrelenting. Then, without warning, his free hand slid to your back. Firm, hot even through the satin of your gown. “Come with me,” he said simply.

It wasn’t a request.

You blinked, caught between shock and something that felt far too much like anticipation. “Where—”

He didn’t give you time to finish. His grip tightened, guiding you with unshakable certainty as he steered you away from the balcony, away from the chatter and champagne. You felt eyes on you as he led you through the room, his hand never lifting, his pace unhurried but commanding. Some guests glanced, eyebrows raised, whispers blooming behind hands. But no one dared step in his way.

Not when he walked like that, like the victor claiming what was owed. The noise dulled as soon as you crossed the threshold out of the VIP suite. The heavy door swung shut, muffling the music, the laughter, the endless congratulations.

The hallway beyond was stark and utilitarian, bare concrete walls, fluorescent lights buzzing faintly overhead, the hum of machinery bleeding faintly from below. The glamour fell away all at once, leaving only the skeletal structure of the paddock. Your heels clicked against the floor as he pulled you with him, stride relentless, pace growing faster the further you went.

“Jay,” you hissed under your breath, heart hammering in your ribs. “What the hell are you—”

He cut you a sharp look over his shoulder, and the words withered. His expression was electric, every line of him still strung tight with adrenaline from the race, from the win, from you. You swallowed hard, the sound loud in the silence. The corridor sloped downward, deeper into the bowels of the paddock. The roar of the crowd outside dimmed to a low vibration, replaced by the hum of generators, the occasional bark of a mechanic’s voice. Fewer people passed the further you went, until the world felt deserted, just the two of you moving like inevitability through its veins.

Your pulse kept time with the sound of your steps, quick, quick, quicker still. And then he stopped. Before you. The Red Bull garage loomed ahead, its shutters half-closed, the glow of harsh white light spilling onto the concrete. The scent of oil, rubber, and hot metal wafted through the air. The space was quieter now, stripped of chaos, the skeleton crew tidying up after the day’s victory.

Jay turned to you fully, helmet still tucked under one arm, damp hair falling into his eyes. His hand slid from your back at last, but the imprint of it burned. The corner of his mouth lifted. Slow. Dangerous. “End of the line,” he said softly.

And though you stood in the echo of machines and shadows, with no one to witness, your body told you exactly what he meant.

The garage smelled of gasoline, hot rubber, and victory. The echoes of mechanics clattering away in other corners of the paddock seemed far removed, muffled by the thick tension simmering between the two of you. Jay had you pressed against the glossy flank of his car, the very machine that had carried him to the top of the podium minutes ago. His eyes, sharp as headlights cutting through fog, were locked solely on you.

Your gloves were the first thing he went for. Not in haste, but with a patience that made your pulse stutter. He took your right hand in his, turning it palm up, his thumb pressing into the satin-covered wrist like he was taking your pulse. You felt it, fast, uneven, betraying the cool composure you tried so desperately to keep. His lips curved into a half-smirk, half-knowing smile as he tugged the hem of the glove.

The satin peeled back inch by inch, exposing bare skin to the air, and the world shrank until the only thing you could feel was the drag of fabric and the heat of his stare. You forced yourself not to look away, not to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. His eyes flicked up from your wrist to your face, dark and unreadable, though a spark of amusement glinted there as if he was savoring every second of this power play.

“You know,” he murmured, voice low and rough from the strain of racing, “I don’t usually take trophies in garages.” He paused, letting the second glove dangle from his fingers before dropping it on the hood behind you. Then he laced both of your hands in his, his gloves rough against your skin. “But tonight feels different.”

You arched a brow, lips curling in a faint smirk of your own. “Cheesy line, race boy,” you whispered, though your tone betrayed the way your body leaned ever so slightly closer, betraying the thrill thrumming in your chest.

Jay’s smile widened, teeth flashing as he leaned in closer, his breath ghosting against your cheek. “Maybe. But it got you to smile.” His fingers tightened around yours, the way he held both your hands in his making it feel almost reverent despite the hungry edge to his movements.

You tilted your chin, a mocking gleam in your eyes. “Don’t think you’re special. I smile at all the winners.”

“Sweetheart,” he chuckled under his breath, gaze dragging down your face, over your lips, and lower, “we both know I’m not just any winner.”

The garage hummed with electricity, but it wasn’t the buzzing lights overhead or the cooling car beside you. It was him, his hands still tangled with yours, his touch firm like he didn’t plan to let go.

The garage was nearly empty now, most of the noise faded into a dull echo down the pit lane, but inside, it felt like the world had narrowed to just him, just you, just the hum of the cooling engine beside you. The car’s glossy red paint reflected fractured slivers of both of you: his body caging you in, your lips parted, your pulse fluttering high in your throat.

Jay still had your hands caught in his, his racing gloves rough and warm against your skin. His eyes traced your features with a focus so unrelenting it made you shift, as though he was memorizing every inch of you. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted one of your hands higher, pressing his lips to the inside of your wrist. The kiss was brief, but it left a scorch that made your breath catch.

You tried to laugh, tried to break the spell. “Is this your victory lap?” you murmured, voice thinner than you wanted it to be.

Jay’s lips brushed over your pulse once more before he answered. “This,” he whispered, finally sliding the second glove off and dropping it carelessly to the floor, “is better than any podium.”

You exhaled sharply when he freed your hands. Almost immediately, you laced your fingers into his hair, still damp from sweat, slicked back but soft under your touch. He groaned quietly at the motion, leaning into it, his hands roaming down the curves of your arms, then lower, your waist, your hips, until they settled there like he had every right.

You let your nails graze lightly against his scalp before dragging them down, slow and deliberate, until your palm was flat against his chest. The racing uniform was still zipped halfway down, exposing a triangle of flushed skin and the rise and fall of his breath. The fabric clung to him, every inch of toned muscle molded by years of work, by tonight’s victory. You let your hand slide over it, down the rigid lines of his abs, feeling him tense under your touch.

“God,” you whispered, half to yourself, “you’re solid.”

Jay tilted his head, smirk cutting across his face. “Like what you feel?” His voice was low, smug, but his eyes betrayed something softer, a flicker of hunger so intense it almost startled you.

Instead of answering, you pressed both hands to his chest now, pushing lightly until he let himself fall back against the car’s frame, giving you room to breathe. Your fingers slid down to his wrists, tugging at the leather of his gloves. He didn’t resist when you pulled one off, then the other, your motions unhurried, your eyes locked on his the entire time. You wanted him to feel it, that you were peeling away the last barrier between you.

The gloves dropped with a soft thud, forgotten. His bare hands wasted no time. They roamed up your arms again, tracing every dip, every hollow, until they found the curve of your waist. One hand slipped around your back, the other grazed the side of your ribcage, pausing where the strings of your corset cinched tight.

“Complicated little thing, isn’t it?” he murmured, brushing the lace with the edge of his knuckle.

You tilted your head, lips curling. “Afraid of a challenge?”

His smirk deepened. “Never.”

And with that, he hooked a finger into the lace and began pulling, slow, deliberate, almost maddening. The silk cords slipped free little by little, each motion loosening the armor you’d spent so long lacing yourself into. With every tug, the air felt heavier, charged with something raw and electric.

You held his gaze, refusing to look down, refusing to flinch as he undid you one ribbon at a time. Instead, you reached up again, fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw, then curling back into his hair. You dragged lightly this time, nails teasing his scalp, and the soft groan that slipped from his throat sent a bolt of heat down your spine.

The corset eased, your chest rising and falling faster now that there was space to breathe. Jay’s fingers lingered at the loosened edge, not rushing, just resting there, warm against bare skin.

“You’re beautiful like this,” he murmured, almost reverent, though his smirk lingered at the corner of his mouth. “Undone. Just for me.”

You swallowed, lips twitching into the faintest smile despite yourself. “Careful,” you whispered back, letting your thumb brush across his lips. “You keep saying things like that, I might start believing you.”

He kissed your thumb, slow and burning, his free hand pressing firmer against your waist. “That’s the idea.”

The garage seemed to pulse with the silence between words, with the drag of fabric loosening, the rasp of your breaths tangled together, the heat of his body crowding yours. The moment hung there, balanced on a knife’s edge, the smell of oil and champagne lingering in the air, his fingers still resting against the loosened lace of your corset, your thumb brushing the softness of his lower lip. You’d never let anyone linger this close, never allowed anyone to hold you still and strip away your defenses so carefully, like each string of silk was another layer of you he was claiming.

And then he tilted his head.

Not much. Just enough for his mouth to graze against the pad of your thumb, his lips warm and soft, the barest hint of a smile pulling at them. You sucked in a sharp breath, pulse stuttering, but you didn’t pull away.

If anything, you leaned closer.

Jay caught that movement instantly, eyes flickering up to yours, and you swore the smirk died for a moment. In its place was something heavier, something that made your knees feel unsteady. His hand on your waist tightened, anchoring you against him.

“Sweetheart…” he murmured, his voice a low rasp.

And that was it, the thread that snapped. You closed the last inch of space between you, pressing your lips to his. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t neat. It was messy, hungry, like the both of you had been holding your breath for hours and finally exhaled into each other. The taste of champagne still lingered faintly on his mouth, cool against the heat of your own.

Jay groaned softly into the kiss, the sound vibrating against your lips as he angled his head, deepening it. His hand slid up your back, fingers splaying wide as though he couldn’t get enough of holding you there. The other hand cupped your jaw, thumb stroking lightly over your cheek, grounding you even as the kiss set you alight.

You tangled both hands in his hair, finally dragging them through in the way you’d been aching to. The strands were damp, silky, and he tilted his head with the pull, pressing closer until your spine met the solid curve of the car behind you. His chest was firm against yours, heat searing through the thin barrier of your gown and his half-open suit.

When you finally pulled back, it wasn’t because you wanted to. It was because your lungs screamed for air. You broke the kiss with a gasp, lips tingling, breath shaky. He didn’t go far, though, his forehead rested against yours, noses brushing, his thumb still stroking your cheek.

You tried for composure, for control, but your voice betrayed you, low and unsteady. “That… was reckless.”

Jay chuckled softly, his lips brushing yours again like he couldn’t stand the distance. “Reckless is kind of my thing.”

You smirked despite yourself, breathless, your hands still knotted in his hair. “Don’t get cocky, race boy.”

He grinned, and before you could catch your breath properly, he kissed you again, slower this time, lingering, a promise tucked beneath the press of his lips.

The second kiss was different. The first had been fire and recklessness, a spark catching dry tinder. But this one, this one was deliberate. Controlled. Like Jay wanted to savor you, taste every reaction, drag it out until you were trembling from nothing more than his mouth.

He kissed you with aching slowness, his lips brushing and lingering, retreating just to come back again until you were chasing him for more. The corner of his mouth tugged upward against yours every time he felt you lean into it, every time he heard that small, desperate sound slip from your throat.

When you finally parted your lips, just slightly, his tongue slid against yours in a tease, light, fleeting, before pulling back. You made a soft sound of protest, fingers tightening in his hair, and that was all the invitation he needed. His tongue swept against yours fully now, confident, coaxing, deepening the kiss until your knees went weak.

He tasted like champagne and adrenaline, sharp and intoxicating, and you could feel him smiling into it, smug at the way you melted against him. You bit down gently on his lower lip just to wipe that arrogance off his face, but instead of recoiling, Jay groaned, low and throaty, the sound vibrating against your mouth. His hand tightened at your jaw, thumb sliding across your cheek as if to steady you, as if he’d unravel otherwise.

“You’re trouble,” he whispered against your lips, before capturing them again.

This time, his kisses turned hungrier, less polished, his teeth grazing your lips. He nipped at the corner of your mouth, tugged softly on your lower lip before soothing the sting with his tongue. You gasped at the sensation, clutching tighter at his hair, and he smiled, biting again just to hear that little noise from you.

Then his lips left yours entirely, and you almost whined at the loss, until he trailed downward.

The first brush of his mouth against your jaw was feather-light, a tease. Then firmer, dragging teeth and tongue along the delicate line there. You tipped your head back instinctively, granting him more space, and he made a pleased sound deep in his chest.

His lips found the curve of your neck, hot and open-mouthed, sucking gently until heat pooled low in your stomach. You felt every scrape of his teeth, every slow swirl of his tongue as he worked at sensitive spots, pulling little gasps from you that echoed in the quiet garage. He lingered, biting softly, then soothing the mark with a kiss that was far too gentle for how unraveled you felt.

Your hands dragged lower now, sliding from his hair down over his shoulders, across the solid breadth of his chest. His body was searing, hard under your palms, and when your fingers grazed over the open V of his suit, he shuddered against your throat, biting down just a little harder.

“Jay—” you breathed, half warning, half plea.

“Say that again,” he murmured into your skin, his breath hot, his lips moving lazily along your neck, nipping, tasting. “God, I like the way it sounds.”

His kisses grew slower again, lingering at the hollow of your throat, where he pressed one final bite, enough to make you gasp, before sucking it tender and soothing the ache with his tongue. When he finally pulled back, his mouth was pink, slightly swollen, and his eyes, dark, heavy, utterly focused on you, made your breath catch.

He rested his forehead against yours again, lips brushing yours as he whispered, “Still think I’m just some cocky race boy?”

Your smirk wobbled, your voice barely steady. “Maybe… but you’re good with your mouth.”

Jay chuckled, low and dangerous, before kissing you again, messy, consuming, like he wasn’t done proving it.

Your back hit the car with a muted thud, the glossy hood cool against the heat rising in your skin. Jay pressed forward instantly, caging you in with his body, the hard planes of his chest flush against yours, his breath heavy and ragged as though the race hadn’t ended at all.

His hands roamed lower, sliding beneath the loosened edge of your corset. The pads of his fingers brushed along bare skin, up over the ridges of your ribs, until he teased the swell of your breast with maddening restraint. The touch was feather-light, barely there, yet it sent a shiver down your spine that made you arch into him.

You gasped softly, your hands snapping up to clutch at his wrists. It wasn’t to stop him, it was to anchor yourself. To remind your body not to completely unravel under the weight of a single touch. But the way you gripped him, the way your nails pressed into his skin, gave you away.

Jay’s eyes caught yours, and for a moment, his smirk was gone. What replaced it was darker, sharper, lust so fierce it burned through his usual polished charm. His pupils blown wide, his jaw tight, his breathing uneven. He looked at you like he wanted to devour you whole.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, voice a low growl, “how badly I’ve wanted to do this since the second you walked into that gala.”

And then he kissed you again, harder, hungrier, his tongue claiming your mouth as his hands finally pressed fully against your breasts, coaxing a broken moan from your lips. The sound seemed to ignite him. He groaned into the kiss, his hands kneading, teasing, his thumbs brushing against your nipples through the satin. Every little sound you made, every arch of your body, was like fuel to him.

You could barely breathe, your body strung tight with need, your fingers dragging down his chest, clinging to the fabric of his half-unzipped suit. He broke the kiss just long enough to pant against your lips, his forehead pressed to yours.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, low and fervent, and before you could even ask, he moved.

With one smooth, powerful motion, Jay hooked his arms under you, lifting you off the hood as if you weighed nothing. You gasped, clutching at his shoulders, but he only tightened his hold, carrying you with effortless strength toward the cockpit of his car. The adrenaline in his veins had shifted from racing to you, and it made him reckless, unstoppable.

He lowered you into the driver’s seat, a space designed for one, never two. The snug cockpit cradled your body, forcing your legs up, making you hyperaware of how scandalous, how forbidden, this was. The leather was warm beneath you, the steering wheel inches from your chest, the seat molded for him alone.

Jay slid in after you, somehow managing to wedge his body into the impossibly tight space, his chest pressed flush against yours, his thighs trapping you completely. You could barely move, barely breathe, except for the way he allowed you to, the way his body dictated.

“This seat,” he whispered hot against your ear, his lips grazing the shell of it as his hands slid up your thighs, “was made for me. But right now? It’s all yours.”

Your breath hitched as his palms brushed higher, thumbs pressing into the sensitive skin just beneath the loosened edges of your corset. The position forced you open, forced you vulnerable, and every brush of his fingers pulled another desperate sound from your throat.

You tried to form words, to steady yourself, but all that left you was a shuddered, “Jay…”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his gaze feral, devouring. His hand cupped your cheek again, tilting your head so he could kiss you slow and deep, swallowing the sound of your moan as his other hand slid beneath the loosened fabric of your corset completely, caressing bare skin, dragging fire wherever he touched.

The cockpit was suffocatingly tight, the steering wheel pressed against your side, his body heavy against yours, but the closeness made it intoxicating. There was no escape, no room to think, only him, his hands, his mouth, his eyes burning into you like you were the only prize worth winning tonight.

The cockpit wasn’t built for this, for bodies pressed this tight, for breaths mingling, for clothes being peeled away in frantic, deliberate motions. But maybe that was what made it so intoxicating: the sheer impossibility of it, the risk of being caught, the suffocating closeness that turned every brush of skin into a spark.

Jay’s hands moved first, tugging at the loosened edges of your corset, undoing the last knots of lace with infuriating precision. Each pull of the ribbon revealed more of you, until the garment slipped loose around your torso. You gasped softly as cool air met heated skin, your hands instinctively covering yourself, but Jay caught your wrists, pinning them gently but firmly against the seat’s frame.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispered, his voice husky, his eyes devouring you. “Not tonight.”

With agonizing slowness, he peeled the corset off completely, tossing it carelessly into the footwell. His gaze roamed unapologetically over your body, lingering at the delicate lace of your lingerie. Black, sheer, clinging to every curve, your last layer of armor.

You shifted under his stare, but before you could speak, he bent low, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, down the valley between your breasts, his breath hot against lace. His teeth grazed lightly over a peak through the fabric, and your moan echoed in the tiny space, making his cock twitch against you.

Your fingers trembled as you tugged at the zipper of his race suit, dragging it the rest of the way down. The fabric slipped from his shoulders, baring the sweat-slicked expanse of his chest, every muscle defined, sculpted by years of pushing himself to the edge. You couldn’t resist trailing your nails down over the hard lines of his abs, drawing a hiss from his lips.

“Your turn,” you murmured, your voice low but daring.

Jay smirked, standing just enough to push the rest of the suit down his hips. The fireproof undershirt went next, discarded in a rush, until only his briefs clung low on his waist. The sight made your breath stutter, broad shoulders, lean waist, every line of him glistening with victory and desire.

Now it was just lace and briefs, two bodies stripped down to hunger and heat, pressed together in a seat meant for one.

Jay climbed back in, forcing himself into the impossibly tight space, his chest flush to yours, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs. He pushed them wider, the lace riding up, the position scandalous and raw. His erection strained against the thin fabric of his briefs, pressing against your core, the friction delicious even through the last barriers of cloth.

He groaned, low and primal, his forehead pressed to yours. “Fuck… you feel too good already.”

Your fingers tangled in his damp hair again, dragging him into another kiss, messy, biting, desperate. His hands roamed everywhere: gripping your hips, caressing your thighs, brushing the curve of your breasts through lace until you were gasping into his mouth.

The cockpit creaked faintly with your movements, leather groaning under the strain, but neither of you cared. Every motion, every breath, was frantic with the knowledge that this was forbidden, reckless, and oh so delicious.

The press of leather against your back, the hard wheel jutting against your ribs, Jay’s body caging you in, it should have been unbearable. But his hands, his mouth, his heat made it the most intoxicating prison you’d ever been in.

He ground against you first, slow, testing. His hips rolled forward, the thin fabric of his briefs brushing hard against the lace at your core. You gasped into his mouth, your nails digging into his shoulders. He swallowed the sound greedily, kissing you harder, deeper, like he couldn’t stand the idea of air between you.

Another roll of his hips had you moaning, the friction deliciously raw in the confined space. He chuckled darkly against your lips. “Already needy, sweetheart?” His voice rasped, low and smug, but the way his cock throbbed against you betrayed his own unraveling.

Your only answer was to arch against him, your hips meeting his in a shameless grind that drew a hiss from his throat. His hand slid down, slipping beneath the lace at your hip, fingers skimming over bare skin before cupping you fully. He groaned when he felt the damp heat waiting for him.

“Fuck,” he whispered, dragging his fingers along your folds, slow and deliberate. “You’re soaked. All for me.”

You could only moan, your head tipping back against the seat as his touch teased and coaxed. The lace became nothing more than an obstacle, so he hooked his fingers into it, tugging until the delicate fabric tore with a soft snap. The sound was obscene in the silence, your last barrier gone, leaving you bare beneath him.

He didn’t give you time to think. His fingers slid inside, two at once, filling you as his thumb pressed firmly against your clit. The cry that ripped from your throat echoed off the metal walls, and Jay grinned ferociously, kissing you again as his hand worked mercilessly.

The cockpit rocked faintly with your movements, his fingers thrusting deep, curling in just the right spot. You clung to him, nails biting into his skin, your hips rolling against his hand helplessly. He groaned into your mouth, his cock grinding harder against you, straining against the confines of his briefs.

“Say my name,” he growled, his lips brushing your ear as he fucked you with his fingers, his thumb circling ruthlessly.

“Jay—” you gasped, broken, your voice catching as your body trembled.

“That’s it,” he praised, biting down lightly on your neck. “Say it like that when you come.”

Your release hit fast, sharp, your body clenching around his fingers as waves of pleasure crashed through you. You moaned his name just as he commanded, your thighs shaking, your hands clawing at his chest. He kissed you through it, swallowing every sound, until you sagged against the seat, trembling.

But he wasn’t done.

Jay pulled his fingers free, glistening, and without breaking eye contact, he shoved his briefs down just enough to free himself. Your breath caught at the sight, thick, flushed, already leaking with precum for you. He gripped himself once, guiding his cock against your entrance, smearing your wetness along the length.

The space was so tight, your bodies so crammed together, that when he pushed in, it was deep immediately. You cried out, nails digging into his shoulders as he filled you inch by inch, stretching you until there was nothing else, no air, no thought, just him.

“Fuck—” he groaned, head dropping against your shoulder, his hips stilling once he was buried to the hilt. “You’re… perfect.”

The position forced your legs up around his waist, the seat holding you open, vulnerable, as he began to move. The thrusts were short but devastating, the confined space giving him no choice but to drive deep every time. The car rocked with the force, the steering wheel pressing against your side, your moans bouncing off the tight walls.

Every stroke hit that spot inside you, dragging more cries from your throat. Jay kissed you through them all, his lips messy, biting, his tongue sliding against yours as he fucked you hard and desperate.

The sound of skin slapping, of your wetness clinging to him, filled the cockpit, obscene and feral. His hand slipped between your bodies again, fingers finding your clit, rubbing fast, determined to wring every ounce of pleasure from you.

“You’re mine now,” he growled against your lips, his thrusts growing rougher, more reckless. “Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped, moaning as your body tightened again, the pleasure building impossibly fast under his ruthless pace. “Jay—I’m yours—”

His groan was guttural, broken, as he buried himself deep, grinding against you, his fingers ruthless on your clit. The second orgasm tore through you, your scream muffled by his mouth as you clamped down around him, your body shaking violently.

That was all it took. Jay cursed, thrusting hard, and then he was spilling into you, hot and overwhelming, his hips jerking as he kissed you like he’d never stop.

The cockpit reeked of sweat, sex, and victory. Your body trembled in his hold, his chest heaving against yours, both of you panting, wrecked. And Jay, still buried deep inside you, pressed his forehead to yours with a feral grin. “Sweetheart,” he panted, brushing his lips against yours, “I told you, this win was mine.”

The cockpit still reeked of sex, heat clinging to your skin as Jay’s hips rocked lazily into yours. You were still trembling from your second release, legs hooked around his waist, every inch of you stretched and filled. His forehead pressed to yours, his breath hot, his lips brushing yours with every ragged exhale.

And then, footsteps. Your heart stopped. The muffled sound of voices outside the garage, the heavy scrape of the main door being shifted, the faint squeal of rubber soles against cement. You gasped, panic spiking in your chest, but Jay’s hand was instantly over your mouth, his eyes locked on yours, dark and feral. “Don’t,” he mouthed, a dangerous grin tugging at his lips.

The voices grew louder. Someone was right outside, calling casually to another, their tone careless, oblivious. And instead of stopping, Jay’s hips rolled. Deep. Slow. You whimpered into his palm, your nails digging into his back as he bottomed out inside you, the thick stretch stealing your breath. He chuckled low in his throat, the sound wicked, and ground harder against your clit with every measured thrust.

Your wide eyes begged him to stop, but his expression only darkened, reveling in the risk. “Shh,” he whispered against your ear, his hand pressing firmer over your lips as his cock dragged out of you, only to slam back in, silent but devastating.

You tried to shake your head, but your body betrayed you, the tight clench around him, the desperate roll of your hips despite yourself. His teeth grazed your neck, biting lightly to swallow his groan. Outside, a door slammed, voices fading. They were leaving. Relief flickered, until Jay snapped his hips forward hard, making you squeal into his hand.

“Thought you were scared?” he rasped, eyes glittering as his pace quickened, each thrust deliberate and deep, the seat creaking beneath you. “Then why are you so fucking tight around me?”

Tears pricked your eyes at the intensity, your muffled cries filling the tiny cockpit, every sound swallowed by his palm. The sheer obscenity of it, of being stuffed full of him, trembling, while someone had been seconds away from catching you, sent you spiraling.

His thrusts grew ruthless, reckless, chasing your release even as your body writhed under his control. “Come for me,” he ordered, his voice low, commanding. “Be my good girl and soak my cock while they’re right outside.”

The words shattered you. The orgasm ripped through your body violently, your muffled scream vibrating against his hand, your walls clamping down around him so tight it drew a guttural curse from his throat. He followed a heartbeat later, thrusting hard, spilling deep, his body shuddering as he pressed his mouth to your shoulder to muffle his own ragged groan.

For a long moment, the only sound was your uneven breathing, the faint creak of the car as your bodies trembled together. Then, finally, Jay lifted his hand from your mouth, his grin smug and devastating.

“Guess we like playing with fire, sweetheart,” he murmured, still buried deep inside you.

The garage had gone still again, the distant echo of footsteps fading into nothing. Inside the cockpit, though, it felt like the whole world had stopped. Just you and Jay, bodies tangled, skin damp, breaths still shaky from the chaos of what you’d just done. You slumped against him, your cheek pressed to the damp skin of his shoulder, the faint salt of sweat clinging to your lips. He was still buried deep inside you, his length softening slowly but not leaving, keeping you stretched, stuffed, impossibly full. The intimacy of it made your chest tighten.

Jay’s hand smoothed up and down your spine, languid strokes that settled into something more tender than you expected. His mouth pressed featherlight kisses along your hairline, then down your temple, lingering as if memorizing the shape of you.

“You feel,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear, “like you were made to fit me.”

You shivered, your lashes fluttering shut, a sigh catching in your throat. His words could’ve sounded cocky if not for the rawness in his voice, the way he said it like a confession.

Your hands were clumsy, still trembling, but you slid your fingers up into his hair, loosening the slicked strands until they fell wild around his face. He let out a quiet hum when your nails scratched lightly at his scalp, tilting his head to press a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Don’t say things like that,” you murmured, the sound muffled, though a smile betrayed you against his lips.

“Why not?” he asked, playful, but his tone had gentled. His forehead leaned against yours, his breath slow, steadier now. “It’s true.”

You let out a shaky laugh, pressing your hand against his chest, feeling the heavy drum of his heart. “You’re impossible.”

“And you,” he murmured, nudging your nose with his, “are dangerous.”

The cockpit was cramped, suffocating almost, but in that moment it felt like the most intimate corner of the universe. Your bare thighs stuck to his racing briefs, your lace crushed and ruined between you, his release slipping warm and messy where you were still joined. You shifted faintly and felt it all over again, the obscene fullness of him still inside you, the dull, tender ache he left in his wake. It made you whimper before you could stop yourself.

Jay’s lips curved, but not in the sharp smirk he’d worn all night. This one was softer, reverent almost. He kissed you again, slower now, mouths moving lazily against each other, no urgency, just taste and heat and the kind of sweetness that left your stomach fluttering.

When he pulled back, barely, his thumb brushed your jaw, his eyes dark but softened. “You good?” he asked quietly, not the cocky driver who’d whispered filth against your skin, but the man beneath it.

Your throat tightened at the question, at how gently he asked. “Yeah,” you breathed, honest. “Better than good.”

His smile deepened, and he kissed you again, lingering, unhurried.

The afterglow wrapped around you both, a haze of warmth and mess and whispered breaths, the race and the chaos of the world outside melting away. For the first time in longer than you could remember, you didn’t feel like a model on display, or like he was a driver on the podium, you just felt like two people, stuffed together in a seat too small, too close, too intimate, unwilling to let go.

And Jay, still inside you, still keeping you full, seemed in no hurry to move either.

“Stay like this a little longer,” he whispered, pressing one more kiss to your lips.

The air in the garage had cooled, a faint draft licking at your overheated skin. Slowly, reluctantly, Jay shifted inside you, slipping free with a drag that made you both hiss at the sticky aftermath. The seat creaked as you straightened, trying to catch your breath, the ache between your thighs a constant reminder of what you’d just done.

Jay chuckled low, the sound warm as he pressed one last kiss to your swollen lips. Then, with surprising care, he reached for your gloves where they’d been discarded, sliding them gently back over your hands like he was redressing something fragile. His fingers lingered, tugging each fingertip snug, eyes glinting with fond mischief.

“You ruin me,” he murmured, voice husky but softer now, like he wasn’t used to whispering things this raw.

You smirked faintly, tugging at the strap of his briefs still clinging low on his hips. “You’re one to talk.”

The cleanup was messy, but intimate. He passed you tissues from a supply cabinet, grinning at the flush creeping up your neck as you dabbed yourself clean. He didn’t look away, not once, but there was no judgment in his gaze, only that infuriating mixture of hunger and tenderness that left you weak. When you reached to tie your corset again, he stopped you, brushing your hands aside.

“Let me,” he said simply, fingers threading the strings, tightening them with slow, practiced patience. His knuckles brushed the small of your back, his head bent close enough you felt the ghost of his breath against your spine. When he finished, he pressed a kiss just above the laces, unhurried, reverent.

Your chest ached. You didn’t want it to, but it did.

By the time you pulled the satin of your gown back into place and slipped your heels on, Jay had stripped out of his briefs and back into his race suit. His hair was still messy, damp, but when he zipped himself up and raked his fingers through it, the picture of the untouchable driver returned, except now, you knew how soft he could be beneath it.

Silence fell as he opened the side door, the two of you slipping into the dim corridor that stretched toward the exit. His hand brushed yours once, then again, until finally he took it, lacing his fingers firmly with yours. The silence wasn’t awkward, it was heavy with something unspoken, something you weren’t ready to name.

You walked that way all the way to the exit.

At the threshold, the cool night air spilling in, Jay paused. He turned to face you, still holding your hand. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous, a shy, boyish grin that lit up his face in a way you’d never seen on track or on podiums.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat, almost nervous, “about that bet…” His thumb brushed across your knuckles. “I think I earned something.”

You raised a brow, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. “And what exactly do you think you’ve earned?”

He laughed quietly, ducking his head for a moment before looking back up at you. “Your number,” he admitted, grin widening. “And maybe, if you’re feeling generous, a date that doesn’t involve me sweating through a race suit.”

The simplicity of it knocked the air out of you. For all the fire and filth you’d just shared, this, him asking shyly, like a teenager, felt more dangerous.

You smirked to cover the flutter in your chest, slipping your phone from your clutch. “Hand it over, racer boy.”

~Fin

masterlist

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✧༚ ˗ˏˋ 𐙚 ˎˊ˗ ༚✧✧༚ ˗ˏˋ 𐙚 ˎˊ˗ ༚✧✧༚ ˗ˏˋ 𐙚 ˎˊ˗ ༚✧✧༚ ˗ˏˋ 𐙚 ˎˊ˗ ༚✧✧༚ ˗ˏˋ 𐙚 ˎˊ˗ ༚✧

⟡ @rosepetals09, ⟡ @cherry-blossomfrag, ⟡ @mari-marimar,  ⟡ @paradieseoul, ⟡ @microwavedstrawberries3,  ⟡ @thatonerandomblondechick, ⟡ @heebambilee,  ⟡ @simjaeyunsdoll, ⟡ @sinceresilverstrawberry,  ⟡ @heeseungslefttoee, ⟡ @shayinthesims, ⟡ @larichard,  ⟡ @noinspirationkisstoday, ⟡ @frenziedseerdesolation,  ⟡ @wtfisgoingright, ⟡ @heekijakey, ⟡ @luvwonsito,  ⟡ @cheetosthabratt, ⟡ @en-ner-jay, ⟡ @shouldergangsterrj,  ⟡ @brennanmeijalover00,⟡ @wondash, ⟡ @kimuranishi,  ⟡ @thep3rfectgirl25, ⟡ @doraemon02, ⟡ @rotttenhalo,  ⟡ @oldeubois-blog, ⟡ @putrescentpoet, ⟡ @jinnibug, ⟡ @vayuzzz,  ⟡ @kimmyaaaa, ⟡ @ppcarolina9, ⟡ @giagotthezoomies, ⟡ @numberoneheeslut, ⟡ @lovestruck-sky ⟡ @roze-latte-zz, ⟡ @sociallyawkward18 ⟡ @lyserie

[draculanne]

babe the fact that u reblogged one post from each of my account (both my main nd side blog) in the span of few mins ily babes

I DID?????? oh i love that for me :3 you’re an amazing writer mwah

[heesvnqie]

Unbound - Park Sunghoon FF

pairing: billionaire!sunghoon x f!reader genre: strangers to lovers, smut warnings: explicit sexual content,unprotected sex (wrap it up irl!), oral (m & f receiving), rough intimacy, overstimulation, possessive themes synopsis: When Sunghoon is going to be married to the girl he hates, he pulls up at the coffee shop at which you work with a marriage contract! word count: 11k!

The Seoul skyline glittered like a sea of stars, the city’s pulse humming through the glass walls of Park Sunghoon’s penthouse apartment. At twenty-three, Sunghoon was the epitome of effortless charm—sharp jawline, piercing eyes, and a quiet intensity that made hearts race. As the heir to Park Enterprises, one of South Korea’s leading tech conglomerates, his life was a carefully curated blend of privilege and pressure. But tonight, the weight of that pressure felt suffocating.

He leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, his dark hair slightly tousled, a glass of whiskey in his hand. The amber liquid swirled as he stared out at the city, his mind replaying the conversation from earlier that day. His mother, Park Ji-yeon, had dropped a bombshell over lunch at their family’s sprawling estate in Gangnam.

“Sunghoon-ah,” she’d said, her tone deceptively sweet as she sliced into her kimchi jjigae. “You’re not getting any younger. It’s time to settle down.”

Sunghoon had nearly choked on his rice. “Eomma, I’m twenty-three. I’m not exactly collecting pension checks.”

Her eyes had narrowed, that familiar glint of determination flashing. “I’ve spoken with Mrs. Kang. Her daughter, Soo-jin, is perfect for you. She’s elegant, well-educated, and from a respectable family. I’ve already arranged a meeting for next week.”

The memory made Sunghoon’s jaw clench. Kang Soo-jin. He’d met her once at a charity gala—polished, poised, and painfully artificial. She’d spent the evening name-dropping designers and subtly flaunting her family’s wealth. The idea of spending his life with someone like her made his skin crawl. He wasn’t opposed to marriage, not entirely, but he wanted something real—something that didn’t feel like a business merger.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling him from his thoughts. A text from his best friend, Jay: “Heard about the arranged marriage fiasco. You good, man?”

Sunghoon snorted, typing back: “Define ‘good.’ I’d rather jump into the Han River than marry Soo-jin.”

Jay’s reply came instantly: “Then don’t. Find a way out. You’re Park Sunghoon, you always figure it out.”

A way out. Sunghoon set the whiskey down, his mind racing. He needed a plan—something drastic, something his mother couldn’t argue with. That’s when the idea hit him, reckless and bold, like something out of the K-dramas his sister was always watching: a contract marriage.

If he was already “taken,” his mother would have no choice but to back off. But who could he convince to play along? It had to be someone trustworthy, someone who wouldn’t get the wrong idea, and definitely someone who could handle the scrutiny of his high-profile life.

His thoughts drifted to you.

You, Y/N, were the furthest thing from Sunghoon’s polished world. A barista at a cozy café in Hongdae, you lived paycheck to paycheck, your biggest worry being whether you could afford to fix your ancient laptop or pay your rent on time. At twenty-three, you were fiercely independent, with a sharp wit and a tendency to speak your mind—a trait that often got you into trouble but also made you unforgettable.

You’d met Sunghoon by chance six months ago. He’d wandered into your café late one night, looking like a lost puppy in his tailored suit, clearly out of place among the fairy lights and mismatched furniture. He’d ordered a black coffee, and when you’d jokingly asked if he wanted “a side of existential crisis” with it, he’d actually laughed—a low, genuine sound that had surprised you both.

Since then, he’d become a regular, stopping by whenever his schedule allowed. You didn’t know much about his life beyond what the tabloids screamed—“Park Sunghoon: The Ice Prince of Seoul’s Elite”—but you liked his quiet humor, the way he’d linger at the counter to chat, and how he always tipped generously. There was a spark between you, unspoken but undeniable, though neither of you had ever dared to acknowledge it.

Tonight, as you wiped down the counter after the evening rush, the bell above the door chimed. You glanced up, expecting another overworked college student, but there was Sunghoon, his black coat dusted with snowflakes, his expression unreadable.

“Hey, stranger,” you called, tossing the rag aside. “You’re late. We’re out of your fancy espresso beans.”

He smirked, shaking snow from his hair. “Good. Your regular coffee’s better anyway.”

You raised an eyebrow, sensing something off. “Rough day? You look like you just lost a fight with a boardroom.”

“Worse,” he said, sliding into a seat at the counter. “My mother’s trying to marry me off.”

You laughed, assuming he was joking, but his serious expression made you pause. “Wait, for real? Like, an arranged marriage? In 2025?”

“Welcome to my life,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “She’s got her heart set on pairing me with some heiress I can barely stand. I need a way out, Y/N.”

You leaned on the counter, intrigued. “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s your grand escape plan, chaebol boy?”

He hesitated, his dark eyes locking onto yours. There was a flicker of something—nervousness, maybe?—that you’d never seen in him before. “I need someone to marry me. Temporarily. Like… a contract marriage.”

Your jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” he said, leaning closer, his voice low. “It’d be a business deal. Would you do it with me? We sign a contract, pretend to be married for a year, maybe two, until my mother backs off. I’d make it worth your while—money, a place to live, whatever you need.”

Your heart pounded, not just at the absurdity of the proposal but at the way his gaze held yours, steady and intense. This was straight out of a K-drama, complete with the brooding male lead and the impossible situation. But you weren’t some starry-eyed heroine. You had bills to pay, a life to live, and no time for fairy tales.

“Sunghoon, I’m a barista, not a rom-com actress,” you said, crossing your arms. “Why me? You’ve got a whole rolodex of socialites who’d jump at this.”

“Because I trust you,” he said simply, and the sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. “You’re real, Y/N. You don’t care about my last name or my bank account. And… I don’t know, I just feel like you’d get it.”

You studied him, searching for a catch. The logical part of your brain screamed that this was insane—marrying a near-stranger, even on paper, was a recipe for chaos. But another part, the part that noticed the way his fingers fidgeted with his coffee cup, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, was curious. Maybe even tempted.

“What’s in it for me?” you asked, keeping your tone light to mask the butterflies in your stomach.

“Name your price,” he said. “A new apartment, tuition for that art degree you mentioned once, a car—whatever you want. I’ll take care of everything.”

You whistled, leaning back. “Wow, you’re really selling this. What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said, but then he hesitated, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Well… we’d have to make it convincing. Public appearances, maybe some events together. And you’d have to move in with me.”

“Move in?” you echoed, your voice rising. “Like, live with you? In your fancy penthouse?”

“It’s part of the deal,” he said, shrugging like it was no big deal. “My mother’s nosy. She’d know if it wasn’t real.”

You laughed, half in disbelief, half in nervous excitement. “This is insane, Sunghoon. You get that, right?”

“I know,” he said, his lips twitching into a small smile. “But I’m desperate. And I think you could use a break from this place.” He gestured at the café, where a leaky pipe dripped in the corner.

You followed his gaze, your resolve wavering. Your life wasn’t glamorous—late nights, sore feet, and a landlord who raised the rent every chance he got. Sunghoon’s offer was a lifeline, but it came with strings. Big, messy, potentially heart-breaking strings.

“I need time to think,” you said finally, your voice softer now.

He nodded, standing up and sliding a business card across the counter. It was sleek, black, with his name and number embossed in gold. “Take as long as you need. But… don’t take too long, okay? The meeting with Soo-jin is next week.”

As he walked out, the bell chiming behind him, you stared at the card, your mind spinning. A contract marriage with Park Sunghoon. It was ridiculous, reckless, and maybe the most thrilling thing that had ever happened to you.

The next few days were a blur. You worked your shifts, smiled at customers, and tried to ignore the way your heart raced every time you thought about Sunghoon’s offer. You’d always prided yourself on being practical, but this? This was uncharted territory.

On your day off, you sat in your tiny studio apartment, the walls paper-thin and the air faintly musty. You pulled out a notebook and started listing pros and cons, like you were planning a grocery trip instead of a fake marriage.

Pros:

Financial security (goodbye, ramen dinners)

A chance to pursue your art degree

Living in a penthouse (hot showers! No leaks!)

Sticking it to Sunghoon’s meddling mom

Cons:

Lying to everyone you know

Pretending to be in love with a guy you barely know

The risk of actually falling for him

The fallout when it ends

That last one made you pause. You’d always kept Sunghoon at arm’s length, treating him like a friendly customer rather than… well, whatever he was becoming. But there was no denying the way your pulse quickened when he smiled, or how you’d started looking forward to his late-night visits. Could you really live with him, act like his wife, and keep your heart out of it?

Your phone buzzed, snapping you out of your thoughts. A text from an unknown number: “This is Sunghoon. Any thoughts yet?”

You stared at the screen, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. This was your chance to back out, to stay safe and keep your life simple. But as you glanced around your cramped apartment, the weight of your dreams pressing against the reality of your bank account, you made a decision.

You typed back: “I’m in. Let’s talk details.”

The next evening, you met Sunghoon at a quiet restaurant in Itaewon, far from the prying eyes of Gangnam’s elite. He was already there when you arrived, dressed down in a black sweater and jeans, but still looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine. He stood as you approached, pulling out your chair with a small, nervous smile.

“You came,” he said, like he hadn’t been sure you would.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you teased, sliding into the seat. “I’m not the one proposing fake marriages.”

He chuckled, but there was a tension in his shoulders, like he was carrying the weight of the world. “Fair enough. So… how do we do this?”

You leaned forward, your voice low. “First, we need ground rules. No funny business, Park. This is a business deal, not a love story.”

His eyes flickered with something—amusement, maybe, or disappointment. “Agreed. No funny business. We’ll keep it professional.”

You spent the next hour hammering out the details: a one-year contract, renewable if needed; a generous monthly stipend for you; a shared penthouse but separate bedrooms; and a strict no-falling-in-love clause, which you insisted on even as your stomach twisted at the thought.

“We’ll need to sell it,” Sunghoon said, sipping his coffee. “My mother’s sharp. She’ll smell a rat if we’re not convincing.”

“Meaning?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Hand-holding, maybe some couple-y stuff in public. Nothing too crazy, just enough to make it believable.”

You nodded, ignoring the way your heart skipped at the idea of holding his hand. “Fine. But if you try to call me ‘jagiya’ in private, I’m out.”

He laughed, the sound warm and unguarded. “Deal. Anything else?”

You hesitated, then said, “Yeah. Don’t break my heart, okay? I know this is fake, but… let’s keep it clean.”

His expression softened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something more. But he just nodded. “I promise.”

By the time you left the restaurant, the contract was drafted on a napkin—sloppy, but binding in its own way. As you stepped into the chilly night, Sunghoon beside you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just signed up for more than you’d bargained for.

The sterile glow of the law firm's conference room felt like a hospital ward, all polished wood and sharp edges. You sat across from Sunghoon, your palms clammy as the lawyer, a middle-aged man with a permanent frown, droned on about non-disclosure agreements. The nap agreement from that night in Itaewon had evolved into a crisp, intimidating stack of papers, each clause a reminder of the surreal choice you’d made.

Sunghoon, dressed in a navy suit that probably cost more than your rent for a year, looked calm—too calm. His posture was perfect, his expression neutral, but you noticed the way his fingers tapped a subtle rhythm against his thigh under the table. Nervous. It was a tiny crack in his polished facade, and it made you feel a little less like you were spiraling into madness alone.

“Miss Y/N,” the lawyer said, pushing his glasses up his nose, “You understand that this contract is legally binding for a minimum of one-year terms, renewable only by mutual consent? Upon termination, you’ll receive the agreed-upon compensation, provided all confidentiality clauses are adhered to.”

You nodded, your throat dry. “Yes, I get it.”

The contract was airtight: one year as Park Sunghoon’s wife on paper, complete with a monthly stipend of ₩50 million (about $40,000), a furnished penthouse in Gangnam, and a full ride for your art degree at Hongik University. In exchange, you’d play the doting wife at public events, live under the same roof, and keep your mouth shut about the arrangement. There was even a clause about “appropriate public affection” to maintain the illusion—hand-holding, smiles, maybe a staged peck on the cheek if the cameras were rolling.

Your eyes flicked to Sunghoon, who was scanning the document with a focus that made you wonder if he was memorizing it. “You good with this?” you asked, keeping your tone light despite the knot in your stomach.

He glanced up, his dark eyes meeting yours. “Yeah. You?”

You shrugged, faking nonchalance. “Guess I’m ready to be Mrs. Park for a year.”

The lawyer cleared his throat, clearly unamused by your sarcasm. “If there are no objections, please sign here and here.” He slid the contract toward you, pointing to the dotted lines.

You picked up the pen, its weight heavier than it should’ve been. This was it—no turning back. You scrawled your signature, the ink bleeding slightly on the paper, and passed it to Sunghoon. He signed without hesitation, his handwriting sharp and precise, like everything else about him.

“Congratulations,” the lawyer said dryly, gathering the papers. “You’re now legally married.”

The words hit like a punch. Married. To Park Sunghoon. You forced a laugh, glancing at him. “No confetti? No cake?”

He smirked, loosening his tie slightly. “I’ll owe you a cake. Let’s get out of here.”

Two days later, you stood in the doorway of Sunghoon’s penthouse, a duffel bag slung over your shoulder and a cardboard box at your feet. Your entire life fit into those two items, a stark contrast to the sprawling, minimalist luxury before you. The place was straight out of an architectural magazine—open-concept, with sleek black marble floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a view of Seoul’s skyline that made your jaw drop. The air smelled faintly of cedarwood and wealth.

Sunghoon appeared from the hallway, casual in a white T-shirt and sweatpants, his hair damp like he’d just showered. “You made it,” he said, eyeing your meager belongings. “That’s… all your stuff?”

You bristled, hugging the duffel tighter. “Not everyone needs a walk-in closet, Park. Where’s my room?”

He led you down a corridor lined with abstract art, stopping at a door. “Here. I had it set up for you.”

The room was bigger than your old apartment, with a king-sized bed, a desk by a massive window, and an en-suite bathroom that looked like a spa. A sketchpad and a set of expensive colored pencils sat on the desk—new, still in their packaging. You turned to him, surprised. “You… got me art supplies?”

He shrugged, hands in his pockets. “You said you wanted to study art. Figured you’d need them.”

The gesture caught you off guard, a flicker of warmth softening the edges of your wariness. “Thanks,” you mumbled, setting your bag down. “So, what now? Do we start practicing our lovey-dovey act?”

He leaned against the doorframe, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Not yet. First, we need to survive dinner with my mother tomorrow.”

Your stomach dropped. “Tomorrow? Already?”

“She’s insistent,” he said, his tone grim. “She wants to meet her new daughter-in-law. We need to be convincing, or she’ll sniff out the lie faster than you can say ‘contract.’”

You groaned, flopping onto the bed. “Great. Nothing like a high-stakes family dinner to kick off our fake marriage.”

The Park family estate was a fortress of elegance, nestled in the heart of Gangnam. Chandeliers dripped crystal, and the dining room table could’ve seated a small parliament. You felt like a fish out of water in your borrowed dress—a sleek, burgundy number Sunghoon had insisted you wear, claiming it was “appropriate for the occasion.” It hugged your figure in a way that made you hyper-aware of every step, especially with Sunghoon’s hand resting lightly on your lower back as you entered.

Park Ji-yeon, Sunghoon’s mother, was a vision of timeless beauty, her sharp eyes scanning you like a hawk assessing prey. Beside her sat Sunghoon’s older sister, Min-ji, who offered a warm smile that felt like a lifeline.

“Y/N, darling,” Ji-yeon said, her voice smooth but edged with scrutiny. “Sunghoon tells me you met at a café. How… quaint.”

You forced a smile, channeling every K-drama heroine you’d ever seen. “Yes, Mrs. Park. I work there. Sunghoon was a regular, and, well, one thing led to another.” You glanced at him, hoping your nerves didn’t show.

Sunghoon’s hand slid to yours under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. “She’s being modest,” he said, his voice warm. “Y/N’s the only person who could make me drink decaf and like it.”

Min-ji laughed, but Ji-yeon’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “How charming. And so sudden, this marriage. No engagement, no introduction… just a wedding.”

You felt Sunghoon tense beside you, but you jumped in before he could speak. “We didn’t want to wait,” you said, leaning slightly toward him, your shoulder brushing his. “When you know, you know, right?”

Ji-yeon’s gaze flickered between you, calculating. “Indeed. Well, Y/N, I hope you’re prepared for the responsibilities of being a Park. Our family has… expectations.”

The rest of the dinner was a minefield of pointed questions and subtle jabs. Ji-yeon grilled you on your background, your education, even your taste in wine, while Sunghoon deftly redirected the conversation whenever she got too close to the truth. By dessert, you were exhausted, your smile brittle.

As you left, Sunghoon’s hand found yours again, this time lingering as you walked to the car. “You did good,” he murmured, opening the passenger door for you. “She didn’t suspect a thing.”

You exhaled, sinking into the seat. “She’s terrifying. I need a drink.”

He chuckled, starting the engine. “You and me both.”

Back at the penthouse, you kicked off your heels, collapsing onto the couch. Sunghoon loosened his tie, pouring two glasses of wine from a bottle that probably cost more than your old rent. He handed you one, sitting beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his arm through his shirt.

“To surviving round one,” he said, clinking his glass against yours.

You took a sip, the rich flavor calming your nerves. “Your mom’s intense. Does she ever… chill?”

“Nope,” he said, leaning back. “She’s been like that since I was a kid. Always planning, always controlling. It’s why I need this to work.”

You studied him, the way his jaw tightened, the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. “Why do you hate the idea of marrying Soo-jin so much? I mean, she’s annoying, sure, but is it just her?”

He was quiet for a moment, swirling his wine. “It’s not just her. It’s what she represents. My mother’s been trying to mold my life since I was born—perfect grades, perfect job, perfect wife. Soo-jin’s just another piece of her puzzle. I want…” He trailed off, glancing at you. “I want something that’s mine. Not hers.”

The honesty in his voice hit you harder than you expected. You set your glass down, turning to face him. “Then let’s make this work. We’ll fool her, Sunghoon. We’ll be the perfect fake couple.”

He smiled, but there was something soft in it, something that made your chest tighten. “You’re tougher than you look, Y/N.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “And you’re not as icy as the tabloids say, Park.”

For a moment, you just sat there, the city lights twinkling outside, the silence between you comfortable. But then his phone buzzed, shattering the moment. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening.

“What?” you asked, sensing the shift.

“It’s my mother,” he said, his voice flat. “She’s invited us to a gala next week. Says it’s the perfect chance to ‘introduce you to society.’”

Your heart sank. Another performance, another test. “Great,” you muttered. “More pretending.”

He looked at you, his gaze steady. “We’ve got this. Right?”

You nodded, but as you sipped your wine, you couldn’t shake the feeling that pretending was starting to feel a little too real.

The next few days were a whirlwind. Sunghoon’s assistant, a brisk woman named Ms. Kim, showed up with a stylist, a makeup artist, and a rack of designer dresses for the gala. You spent hours trying on gowns, each one more extravagant than the last, while Sunghoon worked in his home office, fielding calls and emails.

But at night, when the penthouse was quiet, you’d find yourselves on the couch again, sharing takeout and stories. You told him about your childhood in a small town, your dream of becoming an artist. He told you about sneaking out to skate on frozen ponds as a kid, the one place he felt free. The walls between you were crumbling, and you weren’t sure if that was part of the plan or something neither of you could control.

One night, as you practiced “couple poses” for the gala—his arm around your waist, your hand on his chest—you caught him staring. Not at your face, but at the way your fingers rested against his heartbeat.

“What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shook his head, stepping back. “Nothing. Just… you’re good at this.”

You smiled, but your heart was racing. “Told you I’m a quick learner.”

As he walked away, you touched your hand, still warm from his chest, and wondered how long you could keep calling this a game.

The grand ballroom of the Lotte Hotel Seoul shimmered like a fever dream, its chandeliers casting prisms of light across the sea of silk gowns and tailored tuxedos. The air was thick with perfume, ambition, and the soft clink of champagne flutes. You stood at the top of the sweeping staircase, your arm looped through Sunghoon’s, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it over the string quartet below.

Your gown, a deep emerald creation with delicate lace sleeves, felt like armor—beautiful, but heavy. The stylist had swept your hair into an elegant updo, and the diamond necklace Sunghoon had insisted you wear glittered coldly against your skin. You weren’t Y/N the barista tonight; you were Y/N, Park Sunghoon’s wife, and the weight of that role pressed against your chest.

“Ready?” Sunghoon murmured, his voice low and steady. He looked devastating in his black tuxedo, his hair swept back, every inch the untouchable chaebol heir. But his eyes, when they met yours, held a flicker of something warmer—reassurance, maybe, or a shared secret.

You forced a smile, gripping his arm a little tighter. “As I’ll ever be. Let’s not trip down the stairs and ruin the illusion.”

He chuckled, the sound easing your nerves. “Follow my lead. We’ve got this.”

As you descended, heads turned. Whispers rippled through the crowd—“Is that her?” “Park Sunghoon’s wife?” “She’s not what I expected.” You kept your chin high, your expression serene, but inside, you were cataloging every glance, every smirk. This was your first real test as a couple, and failure wasn’t an option.

At the bottom of the stairs, Park Ji-yeon waited, her silver gown making her look like a queen surveying her court. Beside her stood Kang Soo-jin, the heiress Sunghoon was supposed to marry, her crimson dress clinging to her like a second skin. Soo-jin’s smile was sharp enough to cut glass, her eyes flicking over you with thinly veiled disdain.

“Sunghoon, darling,” Ji-yeon said, kissing his cheek before turning to you. “Y/N, you clean up well. I was almost worried you’d show up in… what was it? An apron?”

The jab landed, but you laughed, light and practiced. “Thank you, Mrs. Park. I figured I’d save the apron for the kitchen at home.” You leaned into Sunghoon, your hand brushing his chest, and felt him tense slightly before relaxing.

Soo-jin stepped forward, her voice syrupy. “Y/N, is it? Such a… charming story, you and Sunghoon. A barista and a billionaire. It’s like a fairy tale.”

You met her gaze, your smile unwavering. “Isn’t it? Sometimes life surprises you.” You glanced at Sunghoon, letting your eyes soften just enough to sell the lie. “I’m lucky to have found him.”

Sunghoon’s hand slid to your waist, his touch warm through the fabric of your dress. “I’m the lucky one,” he said, his voice smooth but with an edge that made Soo-jin’s smile falter.

Ji-yeon clapped her hands, drawing attention. “Let’s not stand here gawking. Sunghoon, Y/N, you’ll join us at the main table. The press is watching.”

The gala was a whirlwind of names and faces—CEOs, politicians, socialites, all eager to curry favor with the Park family. You smiled through introductions, laughed at bad jokes, and sipped champagne to steady your nerves. Sunghoon was a natural, charming without effort, but you noticed the way his jaw tightened when someone mentioned his “sudden marriage” or asked about your background.

At the main table, you were seated between Sunghoon and his sister, Min-ji, who whispered, “You’re killing it, Y/N. Mom’s rattled, and that’s rare.” Her grin was infectious, and you felt a surge of gratitude for her kindness.

Ji-yeon, however, was relentless. “Y/N,” she said over the salad course, her voice carrying, “what do your parents do? We know so little about your family.”

The table went quiet, forks pausing mid-air. You’d prepped for this, but the spotlight still burned. “My parents run a small bookstore in my hometown,” you said, keeping your tone warm. “It’s nothing grand, but it’s home.”

“How sweet,” Soo-jin said, her smile predatory. “A bookstore. So… quaint. Must be quite a change, moving into Sunghoon’s world.”

Sunghoon’s hand found yours under the table, his thumb brushing your knuckles. “It’s a change I’m grateful for,” he said, his voice firm. “Y/N brings something real to my life. Not everyone can say that.”

The dig wasn’t lost on Soo-jin, whose eyes narrowed. You squeezed his hand back, your heart doing an inconvenient flip at his words, even if they were just part of the act.

The night wore on, and you found yourself relaxing into the role. You laughed at Sunghoon’s dry humor, leaned into his touch when he draped an arm over your chair, and even managed a playful whisper in his ear during a lull, earning a genuine smile that made your chest ache. The line between pretending and feeling was blurring, and you weren’t sure how to stop it.

After dinner, the band struck up a waltz, and couples flooded the dance floor. Ji-yeon’s voice cut through the chatter: “Sunghoon, Y/N, you must dance. It’s tradition for newlyweds.”

Your stomach twisted. You’d practiced a few steps with Sunghoon in the penthouse—clumsy, laughing attempts that ended with you stepping on his toes—but this was different. Hundreds of eyes would be on you, judging every move.

Sunghoon stood, offering his hand. “Shall we, Mrs. Park?”

You took it, your pulse racing, and let him lead you to the floor. The music swelled, and he pulled you close, one hand on your waist, the other guiding yours. His grip was steady, his posture confident, and as you began to move, you realized he was an excellent dancer.

“Don’t look at your feet,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “Look at me.”

You lifted your gaze, locking eyes with him. The room faded—the crowd, the cameras, even Ji-yeon’s piercing stare. It was just you and Sunghoon, swaying to the music, his dark eyes holding yours with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.

“You’re doing great,” he murmured, spinning you gently. “Better than when you crushed my toes last week.”

You laughed, the sound surprising you. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Never,” he said, his lips twitching into a smile. But his hand tightened on your waist, and for a moment, you forgot this was a performance. The way he looked at you, the way his touch sent sparks across your skin—it felt real.

The song ended, and the crowd applauded, snapping you back to reality. Sunghoon stepped back, bowing slightly, but his hand lingered on yours a second too long. You curtsied, your cheeks flushed, and as you returned to the table, you caught Soo-jin’s glare, sharp and venomous.

Later, as Sunghoon spoke with a group of investors, you slipped away to the balcony for air. The city sparkled below, but your mind was a tangle of emotions. The dance, Sunghoon’s words, the way your heart kept betraying you—you needed a moment to breathe.

“You’re quite the actress.”

You turned to find Soo-jin leaning against the railing, a flute of champagne in her hand. Her crimson dress glowed under the balcony lights, but her expression was ice-cold.

“Excuse me?” you said, keeping your voice even.

She stepped closer, her heels clicking. “Don’t play dumb, Y/N. I know a gold-digger when I see one. Sunghoon’s just a stepping stone for you, isn’t he?”

Anger flared, but you held it in check. “You don’t know anything about me. Or us.”

She laughed, low and mocking. “Us? Please. Sunghoon’s only with you to spite his mother. You’re a placeholder, a cheap distraction. He’ll tire of you soon enough.”

Her words stung, hitting every insecurity you’d buried. You opened your mouth to retort, but a voice cut through the night.

“That’s enough, Soo-jin.”

Sunghoon stood in the doorway, his expression thunderous. He stepped between you, his presence a shield. “You don’t get to talk to my wife like that.”

Soo-jin’s smile didn’t waver. “Wife? For now, maybe. But we both know this won’t last, Sunghoon. You can’t run from who you are.”

He took a step closer, his voice low and dangerous. “I know exactly who I am. And I chose Y/N. Get used to it.”

Soo-jin’s composure cracked, her eyes flashing with fury, but she turned and stalked back inside without another word. Sunghoon exhaled, running a hand through his hair, then turned to you.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.

You nodded, but your throat was tight. “Yeah. She’s… intense.”

“She’s jealous,” he said bluntly. “And she’s wrong. You’re not a placeholder, Y/N. You’re…” He stopped, like he’d said too much, and the unspoken words hung heavy between you.

You wanted to ask what he meant, but the vulnerability in his eyes stopped you. Instead, you touched his arm, your voice quiet. “Thanks for having my back.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable, then nodded. “Always.”

The ride home was quiet, the city lights blurring past the car windows. You replayed the night in your head—the dance, Soo-jin’s venom, Sunghoon’s defense. Your heart was a mess, and the contract’s “no falling in love” clause felt like a cruel joke.

At the penthouse, you kicked off your heels, the silence between you heavy. Sunghoon loosened his tie, his movements restless.

“You were amazing tonight,” he said finally, leaning against the kitchen counter. “I mean it. You held your own.”

You managed a smile, unzipping your dress at the side. “Team effort. You’re not bad yourself, Mr. Park.”

He laughed, but it was strained. “Y/N… about what Soo-jin said—”

“Don’t,” you cut in, your voice sharper than you intended. “She’s just trying to get under my skin. I’m fine.”

He studied you, his eyes searching. “You sure?”

No, you weren’t. But admitting that would mean admitting how much his words, his touch, his presence were starting to mean to you. So you nodded, turning away. “I’m sure. I’m going to bed.”

As you walked to your room, you felt his gaze on your back, heavy and unspoken. You closed the door, leaning against it, your heart racing. This was supposed to be a game, a contract, a lie. So why did it feel like you were falling for real?

The penthouse felt like a cage, its sleek luxury mocking the chaos in your heart. Three days had passed since the gala, and Sunghoon’s defense against Soo-jin still echoed in your mind—his voice, firm and protective, calling you his wife. But the warmth of that moment was fading under the weight of his distance. He was drowning in work, leaving before dawn and returning long after you’d retreated to your room. His smiles were fleeting, his words clipped, and the growing silence between you was louder than any argument.

You sat cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by scattered pencils and half-finished sketches. Your latest drawing—a study of Sunghoon’s hands, their elegance and strength—stared back at you, a quiet confession you couldn’t voice. The contract forbade feelings, but your heart was breaking the rules, and the ache was unbearable.

The doorbell jolted you from your thoughts. Frowning, you glanced at the clock—9:23 p.m. Sunghoon hadn’t mentioned visitors. Brushing charcoal dust from your jeans, you opened the door to find a delivery boy, barely older than a high schooler, holding a steaming bag of takeout.

“Order for… Mrs. Park?” he said, squinting at the receipt.

The title still made your stomach flip. “That’s me, but I didn’t order anything.”

He shrugged, thrusting the bag at you. “It’s paid for. Have a good night!” He darted off before you could argue.

Inside were boxes of japchae, bulgogi, and your favorite spicy kimchi jjigae, still hot. Tucked between the containers was a napkin with a scrawled note: Stop skipping meals. You’re worse than me. —S. Your chest tightened. Even buried in work, Sunghoon had noticed. You set the food on the counter, the note tucked into your pocket like a secret.

When he came home at 11:47 p.m., you were still awake, nibbling on the japchae. He looked wrecked—tie askew, hair mussed, shadows under his eyes. “You’re up late,” he said, dropping his briefcase by the door.

“Thanks for the food,” you replied, gesturing to the containers. “Didn’t expect you to play delivery fairy.”

He managed a tired smile, grabbing a water from the fridge. “You looked like you were about to eat your sketchbook yesterday. Had to intervene.”

You laughed, but it felt hollow. The distance between you was a chasm, and you couldn’t keep pretending it was fine. “Sunghoon,” you said, setting your chopsticks down. “What’s going on? You’re… gone. Physically, mentally, all of it.”

He froze, the water bottle halfway to his lips. “It’s just work, Y/N. You know how it is.”

“Do I?” you pressed, standing. “Because it feels like you’re avoiding me. Ever since the gala, you’ve been a ghost.”

His jaw tightened, and he set the bottle down with a thud. “I’m not avoiding you. I’m trying to keep things together.”

“Things?” you echoed, stepping closer. “What things? The company? Us? Or is there something else you’re not telling me?”

His eyes flickered with something—guilt, maybe, or fear—but he masked it quickly. “You’re reading too much into it. I’m just swamped.”

The dismissal stung, and before you could stop yourself, you blurted, “Then why does it feel like I’m losing you?”

The words hung in the air, raw and exposing. Sunghoon’s expression softened, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something real. But his phone buzzed, slicing through the tension. He glanced at it, his face hardening.

“I have to take this,” he said, already turning toward his office.

“Sunghoon—” you started, but the door clicked shut, cutting you off.

Frustration burned in your chest. You weren’t his real wife, but you were his partner, weren’t you? Why was he locking you out? Grabbing your phone, you texted Min-ji: Can we meet? I need to talk about Sunghoon. Her reply was instant: Tomorrow, 2 p.m., Café Bloom. Hang in there.

Café Bloom smelled of roasted beans and fresh pastries, its cozy vibe a stark contrast to the storm in your head. Min-ji was already there, her usual brightness dimmed by concern. “Y/N,” she said as you sat, “you look like you haven’t slept. What’s wrong?”

You exhaled, the weight of everything spilling out. “Sunghoon’s shutting me out. He’s barely home, and when he is, he’s… not really there. I don’t know if it’s the company, or his mom, or me. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

Min-ji’s expression turned serious. “Okay, you didn’t hear this from me, but you need the truth. Sunghoon’s company is in deeper trouble than he’s letting on. There’s a hostile takeover bid from a rival conglomerate—not Soo-jin’s family, but close enough that Mom’s using it to push her agenda. She’s threatening to cut Sunghoon off completely if he doesn’t agree to merge with Soo-jin’s company. He’s been fighting it, but it’s killing him.”

Your heart sank. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Because he’s stubborn,” Min-ji said, frustration lacing her voice. “He thinks he can fix it without dragging you into the mess. But there’s more. Mom’s got people watching you two, looking for any crack in your marriage. She’s convinced it’s fake, and if she proves it, she’ll use it to force Sunghoon’s hand.”

The news hit like a punch. “Watching us? Like… spies?”

“Not spies, exactly,” Min-ji said, sipping her latte. “But she’s got connections—people who report back. Photographers at events, even staff at the penthouse. You need to be careful, Y/N. And you need to talk to Sunghoon. He’s drowning, and he won’t ask for help.”

You nodded, your mind racing. The stakes were higher than you’d realized, and Sunghoon’s distance wasn’t just work—it was sacrifice. But the secrecy hurt, and you couldn’t keep playing this game blind.

That night, you waited up, determined to break through. Sunghoon stumbled in at 1:03 a.m., his suit rumpled, his eyes bloodshot. He stopped short when he saw you on the couch, a mug of tea gone cold in your hands.

“Y/N? It’s late,” he said, his voice rough.

“We’re talking,” you said, standing. “No excuses, no phone calls. I met Min-ji today. She told me about the takeover, your mom, the merger. Why didn’t you trust me with this?”

His face paled, and he sank onto the couch, rubbing his temples. “Min-ji shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t blame her,” you cut in, sitting beside him. “I deserve to know. We’re supposed to be a team, Sunghoon. You can’t keep me in the dark and expect me to play along.”

He looked at you, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. My mother… she’s ruthless. If she thinks you’re a liability, she’ll go after you—your art, your future, everything. I thought I could handle it alone.”

“Alone doesn’t work,” you said, your voice softer now. “We signed that contract together. Let me fight with you.”

He was quiet, his eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, he reached for your hand, his fingers cold but steady. “You don’t know what you’re signing up for.”

“I do,” you said, squeezing his hand. “And I’m not running.”

For the first time in days, he smiled—a real, broken smile that made your heart ache. “You’re stubborn, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one,” you teased, but the air was heavy with unspoken truths.

He exhaled, pulling you closer until your shoulder brushed his. “Okay. No more secrets. The takeover bid is from HanTech. They’re offering a buyout, but it would gut the company—layoffs, rebranding, everything my father built. Mom’s pushing Soo-jin’s family as a merger partner to counter it, but their terms would give them control. I’ve been meeting with investors, trying to raise capital to fight HanTech, but it’s not enough.”

The weight of it crushed you, but you kept your voice steady. “What’s our next move?”

He looked at you, surprise flickering in his eyes. “Our?”

“Our,” you confirmed. “I’m your wife, fake or not. We do this together.”

He nodded, a spark of determination returning. “There’s a charity auction tomorrow night. Big players will be there—potential investors. If we can charm them, show a united front, it might buy us time.”

“Then we charm the hell out of them,” you said, a fierce resolve settling in. “But Sunghoon… no more walls. Promise me.”

“I promise,” he said, his voice low and raw. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, lingering, and the simple touch sent your heart racing. The line between pretending and feeling was razor-thin, and you were teetering on the edge.

The next evening, you stood before the mirror in a sapphire-blue gown, its off-shoulder design accentuating your collarbone, the fabric shimmering like starlight. Sunghoon had chosen it, saying it matched your eyes, and the memory of his quiet compliment warmed your cheeks. Your hair was styled in loose waves, a diamond choker glinting at your throat.

Sunghoon appeared behind you, his reflection in the mirror stealing your breath. His tuxedo was tailored to perfection, his hair swept back, every inch the chaebol heir. But his eyes, when they met yours, were soft, almost vulnerable.

“You look…” He paused, searching for words. “Like you belong here.”

You turned, smiling to hide the flutter in your chest. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Mr. Park. Ready to save your empire?”

He offered his arm, a playful glint in his eyes. “With you? Always.”

The auction was held at the Four Seasons, its ballroom dripping with opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast golden light, and the air buzzed with the chatter of Seoul’s elite. You and Sunghoon moved through the crowd, your arm looped through his, your smiles practiced but genuine. You laughed at his dry humor, leaned into his touch, and played the perfect couple, all while scanning for allies.

During a lull, you excused yourself to the balcony, needing air. The city sparkled below, but your mind was on Sunghoon—his promise, his touch, the way he’d looked at you tonight. You were falling, hard, and it terrified you.

A voice broke your thoughts. “Enjoying the view, Mrs. Park?”

You turned to find a man in his forties, his suit impeccable, his smile too sharp. “I’m Choi Min-ho,” he said, offering a hand. “HanTech’s CFO. I’ve been… curious about Sunghoon’s new wife.”

Your guard went up, but you shook his hand, keeping your smile. “Y/N. Nice to meet you. Curious in what way?”

He chuckled, leaning against the railing. “Oh, just business. Sunghoon’s fighting a losing battle, you know. HanTech’s offer is generous. He’d be wise to take it—and you’d benefit, too. A fresh start, no strings.”

The implication was clear: he knew, or suspected, your marriage was a sham. “My husband’s not one to give up,” you said, your voice cool. “And neither am I.”

Choi’s smile didn’t waver. “Loyalty’s admirable. But if you ever… reconsider, here’s my card.” He slipped it into your hand, his fingers brushing yours too long. “Sunghoon’s not the only one with secrets.”

Before you could respond, Sunghoon appeared, his expression thunderous. “Choi,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Step away from my wife.”

Choi raised his hands, smirking. “Just a chat, Park. No harm done.” He walked off, leaving you with the card and a chill down your spine.

Sunghoon turned to you, his eyes searching. “What did he want?”

You hesitated, then handed him the card. “He’s trying to rattle us. Said you’re fighting a losing battle. And… implied he knows about us.”

Sunghoon’s jaw clenched, but he took your hand, grounding you. “He’s bluffing. HanTech’s desperate. We’re getting to them.”

You nodded, but Choi’s words—Sunghoon’s not the only one with secrets—echoed in your mind. What did he mean? Was there something Sunghoon was still hiding, or was it just a ploy?

Back inside, you danced with Sunghoon, his arm steady around you, his gaze never leaving yours. The world faded, and for a moment, it was just you two, hearts beating too close. But as the song ended, you caught Ji-yeon’s stare from across the room, cold and calculating, and reality crashed back.

Later, in the car, you leaned against the window, the card burning a hole in your clutch. Sunghoon reached for your hand, his voice soft. “You were incredible tonight. Thank you.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “We’re a team, right?”

“Right,” he said, but his grip tightened, like he sensed the storm coming.

At the penthouse, you slipped off your heels, your mind racing. Choi’s words, Ji-yeon’s stare, the secrets—something was brewing, and you needed answers. Tomorrow, you’d dig, starting with HanTech. But as you glanced at Sunghoon, loosening his tie, his eyes catching yours with quiet intensity, you wondered: could you handle the truth, whatever it was?

The penthouse was a fortress of glass and steel, but it couldn’t shield you from the storm brewing inside. Choi Min-ho’s cryptic words from the auction—Sunghoon’s not the only one with secrets—had burrowed into your mind, festering alongside the weight of Ji-yeon’s relentless scrutiny and the fragile trust you’d built with Sunghoon. The contract marriage, once a clear-cut deal, was now a tangled web of emotions, and you were running out of time to unravel it.

You woke to sunlight streaming through your bedroom window, the city below already humming. Sunghoon was gone, a note on the kitchen counter scrawled in his sharp handwriting: Early meeting. Back by lunch. Don’t skip breakfast. —S. The gesture warmed you, but it couldn’t erase the unease gnawing at your heart. You needed answers, and you couldn’t wait for him to hand them to you.

Over coffee, you pulled out your laptop, diving into research on HanTech. Their takeover bid was aggressive, backed by a consortium of investors with ties to Soo-jin’s family. Choi’s involvement as CFO suggested he was more than a messenger—he was a player, and his interest in you felt calculated. A quick search on his name turned up polished profiles and bland interviews, but a buried article from a small business blog caught your eye: HanTech CFO Linked to Shady Offshore Accounts. The piece was vague, lacking hard evidence, but it hinted at secrets worth digging into.

You texted Min-ji: Need your help. Can you find anything on Choi Min-ho or HanTech’s finances? Discreetly. Her reply was swift: On it. Give me a day. Be careful, Y/N. You tucked Choi’s business card, still in your clutch from the auction, into your desk drawer. Meeting him was tempting, but too risky—yet.

Sunghoon returned at noon, looking sharper than his note suggested, his suit pristine but his eyes tired. “You’re up,” he said, dropping his keys on the counter. “Thought you’d sleep in after last night.”

“Couldn’t,” you said, closing your laptop. “Too much on my mind. We need to talk about Choi.”

His expression darkened, but he nodded, sitting across from you. “What did he say to you, exactly?”

You recounted the balcony conversation, leaving out nothing—Choi’s veiled threats, his implication about secrets, the card. Sunghoon’s jaw tightened, his fingers drumming the table. “He’s trying to scare you,” he said. “HanTech’s desperate. They know we’re close to securing an investor to block their bid.”

“Then why did he say you have secrets?” you pressed, your voice steady but searching. “Is there something I don’t know, Sunghoon?”

He met your gaze, his eyes conflicted. “Y/N, I’ve told you everything that matters. The company, my mother, the merger pressure—it’s all on the table. Choi’s just playing mind games.”

You wanted to believe him, but the doubt lingered, a splinter you couldn’t pull out. “Okay,” you said, forcing a smile. “But if we’re a team, no more surprises. Deal?”

“Deal,” he said, his hand brushing yours, the touch brief but electric. “We’ve got a plan. There’s a dinner tonight with Kim Joon-ho, a potential investor. If we convince him, we can fend off HanTech without my mother’s merger. You in?”

“Always,” you said, but your mind was already elsewhere, plotting your next move.

The dinner was at a private room in Le Ciel, a Michelin-starred restaurant overlooking the Han River. Kim Joon-ho was a silver-haired tycoon with a warm laugh and sharp eyes, his wife, Eun-sook, a former actress who radiated charm. You wore a sleek black dress, your confidence bolstered by Sunghoon’s quiet approval as you left the penthouse. His hand rested on your lower back as you entered, a gesture that felt less like an act and more like instinct.

The evening went flawlessly. You charmed Eun-sook with stories of your art, while Sunghoon pitched the company’s vision to Joon-ho, his passion cutting through the corporate jargon. By dessert, Joon-ho was nodding, promising to review the investment terms. “You two make a good team,” he said, raising his glass. “Rare to see a couple so in sync.”

You clinked glasses, your smile genuine, but Sunghoon’s hand under the table found yours, squeezing lightly. The line between fake and real was dissolving, and you weren’t sure you wanted to redraw it.

Back at the penthouse, you kicked off your heels, adrenaline still buzzing. “We did it,” you said, turning to Sunghoon. “Joon-ho’s in, right?”

“Close enough,” he said, loosening his tie, a rare grin breaking through. “You were incredible tonight. I almost believed we were a real couple.”

The words hit harder than they should’ve. “Almost?” you teased, but your voice betrayed you, soft and searching.

He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “Y/N, this… us… it’s not just a contract anymore. Not for me.”

Your breath caught, the world narrowing to the space between you. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m tired of pretending,” he murmured, his hand brushing your cheek, his touch igniting sparks. “I don’t know when it happened, but you’re not just my fake wife. You’re… everything.”

The confession shattered your defenses. You leaned into his touch, your voice barely a whisper. “I feel it too. But the contract—what happens if—”

“Screw the contract,” he said, his voice fierce. “We’ll figure it out. I want you, Y/N. For real.”

Time stopped, and then you were kissing, his lips urgent and warm, your hands tangling in his hair. It was desperate, raw, a release of everything you’d held back. The penthouse faded, the contract, the threats—all of it drowned out by the pounding of your heart.

But reality crashed back with the sharp ring of your phone. You pulled away, breathless, as Sunghoon’s forehead rested against yours. “Ignore it,” he whispered.

“I can’t,” you said, your voice shaky. You grabbed your phone, the unknown number sending a chill through you. Against your better judgment, you answered.

“Mrs. Park,” a man’s voice said—Choi Min-ho. “We need to meet. I have proof your marriage is a fraud. Han River Park, tomorrow, 7 p.m. Come alone, or I go to Ji-yeon.”

The line went dead. You stared at the phone, your pulse roaring. Sunghoon’s eyes searched yours, concern etching his face. “Who was that?”

You hesitated, the weight of Choi’s threat pressing down. Telling Sunghoon risked everything—his company, your heart—but hiding it felt like betrayal. “It was Choi,” you said finally, your voice steady. “He says he has proof our marriage is fake. Wants to meet tomorrow.”

Sunghoon’s face hardened, but his hand cupped your face, grounding you. “He’s bluffing. We’ll handle this together. No more secrets, remember?”

You nodded, but fear coiled in your gut. Choi wasn’t just a threat—he was a blade, and you didn’t know where it would cut.

The next evening, you stood at Han River Park, the wind sharp against your skin. Sunghoon had insisted on coming, hiding nearby with a discreet security team. You wore a wire, a tiny device taped under your jacket, Sunghoon’s voice a faint reassurance in your ear: “I’m right here, Y/N. You’ve got this.”

Choi appeared at 7:02 p.m., his suit crisp, his smile smug. “No husband tonight?” he said, glancing around.

“He’s busy,” you said coolly. “What’s this proof you claim to have?”

He pulled out a tablet, swiping to a grainy photo—Sunghoon signing the contract in the lawyer’s office, your signature visible. Another image showed you moving into the penthouse, timestamped days after the “wedding.” “Sloppy,” Choi said. “A real couple doesn’t need a contract. Ji-yeon will love this.”

Your stomach lurched, but you kept your voice even. “That’s it? Photos? Could be anything. Why not take this to Ji-yeon now?”

He smirked. “Because I’d rather have you on my side. Leave Sunghoon, and I’ll make sure these disappear. You’d be set for life—no fake marriage, no lies.”

Anger flared, but you played along. “And if I say no?”

“Then Ji-yeon gets everything,” he said, leaning closer. “And your little art dreams? Gone. HanTech doesn’t play nice.”

You stepped back, your voice firm. “You’re pathetic, Choi. Threatening me won’t save your takeover.”

His smile vanished, but before he could retort, Sunghoon emerged from the shadows, his presence commanding and a revolver in one hand. “That’s enough,” he said, his voice lethal. Two security guards flanked him, their faces stone. “Hand over the tablet.”

Choi’s eyes widened, but he recovered quickly, tucking the tablet away. “This isn’t over, Park. You can’t hide forever.”

He walked off, but Sunghoon’s hand found yours, steadying you. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

You nodded, but your mind was racing. The photos were real, and Ji-yeon was a ticking bomb. “We need to end this,” you said. “All of it.”

Back at the penthouse, you and Sunghoon sat at the dining table, the tablet’s images now in your possession—Choi had handed it over under pressure. Min-ji arrived, her research on HanTech’s finances in hand: offshore accounts, shady loans, enough to discredit Choi if leaked strategically.

“We go public,” Sunghoon said, his voice resolute. “Expose HanTech’s dirt before they can use the photos. It’ll weaken their bid and buy us time to secure Joon-ho’s investment.”

“And your mother?” you asked, the weight of her wrath looming.

He exhaled, his hand covering yours. “We tell her the truth. About the contract… and us. She can’t control me anymore.”

The plan was risky, but it was freedom. You nodded, squeezing his hand. “Let’s do it.”

The next week was a blur. You leaked HanTech’s financial scandals through an anonymous tip to a trusted journalist, and the media pounced. Choi’s reputation crumbled, and HanTech’s bid faltered. Joon-ho signed the investment deal, giving Sunghoon’s company the lifeline it needed.

The final hurdle was Ji-yeon. You and Sunghoon faced her in her office, the contract on the table. Her eyes were ice, but you stood tall, Sunghoon’s hand in yours.

“You lied to me,” she said, her voice venomous. “A contract marriage? Pathetic.”

“It started that way,” Sunghoon admitted, his voice steady. “But it’s real now. I love her, Mother. And I’m done letting you dictate my life.”

Ji-yeon’s gaze flicked to you, searching for weakness, but you met it head-on. “I’m not going anywhere,” you said. “Not for you, not for Soo-jin, not for anyone.”

She laughed, cold and brittle. “You’ll regret this, Sunghoon. Both of you.”

But her threats were empty. With HanTech weakened and the company safe, her leverage was gone. She stormed out, leaving you and Sunghoon in the quiet aftermath.

That night, you stood on the penthouse balcony, the city glittering below. Sunghoon joined you, his arms wrapping around you from behind. “It’s over,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple.

You leaned into him, your heart full. “Not quite,” you said, turning to face him. “We still have a year on that contract. What do we do about that?”

He smiled, pulling you close. “We rewrite it. No clauses, no lies. Just us.”

You kissed him, slow and sure, the future wide open. The contract had brought you together, but love would keep you there—real, messy, and yours.

The Seoul skyline glittered under a twilight veil, its lights pulsing like the city’s restless heartbeat. You stood on the penthouse balcony, wine glass in hand, the October breeze teasing the hem of your oversized sweater, your bare legs prickling. Sunghoon stepped out behind you, his presence a magnetic pull, as familiar as your own pulse. His black hoodie clung to his frame, hair slightly tousled, but his eyes burned with that dark, unraveling intensity that always made your core tighten.

“It’s chilly,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you from behind, his lips grazing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold. “Gonna catch a cold, baby.”

You leaned into his heat, smirking. “Worth it for the view. Besides, you’re my personal furnace.”

His low chuckle vibrated against your back, his hands tightening on your hips. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll warm you up right here,” he teased, his voice a dangerous purr.

The past months—HanTech’s takeover, Ji-yeon’s wrath, Choi Min-ho’s threats—felt like a fading nightmare. The scars lingered, carved into the bond you’d built with Sunghoon, a bond that had outgrown its contractual chains. Two weeks ago, you’d faced Ji-yeon, Sunghoon claiming you as his choice, not his obligation. Her influence had crumbled—HanTech’s bid collapsed, Kim Joon-ho’s investment saved the company, and Soo-jin vanished. Sunghoon was free, and you were no longer playing a role. But the contract, still binding for six months, loomed like an unspoken challenge. Were you lovers, partners, or something more? The love was real, but the future was a tightrope.

“You’re quiet,” Sunghoon whispered, his lips brushing your neck, igniting a spark low in your belly. “What’s on your mind, hmm?”

You set your glass on the railing, turning to face him. His eyes, dark and piercing, stripped you bare. “Us,” you said, voice steady despite the heat pooling between your thighs. “The contract. What’s next?”

He exhaled, his breath misting in the cool air, and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “Been thinking about that since the night I tasted you,” he said, his voice rough, the memory of that kiss—raw, desperate, all-consuming—flashing in his eyes.

Your breath hitched. “And?”

He pulled out the contract, its edges frayed, and held it up. “This started us,” he said, his gaze locked on yours. “But it’s a fucking leash. I want it gone, Y/N. I want us real—no clauses, no bullshit. Just you and me.”

Your heart pounded, desire and fear tangling. “And if we fuck it up without the contract?”

He closed the distance, his hand cupping your face, thumb grazing your lower lip, making you ache for more. “Then we fuck it up together. I’d rather burn it all down than fake this anymore. I love you, Y/N. Not as a deal, not as a lie. I want you—every inch, every breath.”

His words set you ablaze, your body humming with need. You laughed, the sound shaky, needy. “You’re killing me, Park.”

“Good,” he growled, his smirk wicked. “You’ve been killing me since the day you walked in.”

You grabbed the contract, and together you tore it, the rip a final release. The pieces fluttered to the floor, and you surged forward, crashing your lips against his. His kiss was hungry, all teeth and tongue, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him. You felt him, hard and ready through his jeans, and a moan escaped you, swallowed by his mouth.

“Inside,” he rasped, voice thick with want, his fingers digging into your skin as he steered you toward the door.

You barely made it to the living room, your mouths locked, hands tearing at clothes. Your sweater hit the floor, his hoodie following, revealing the carved planes of his chest, the faint scars from his skating days you’d memorized with your fingers, your lips. His hands slid under your bra, thumbs brushing your nipples, drawing a gasp as your core throbbed, slick and desperate.

“Y/N,” he groaned, unclasping your bra with a flick, his lips trailing fire down your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

“Are you sure?” you whispered, voice trembling with want as you tugged at his jeans, your fingers fumbling in your haste.

He growled, kicking off his shoes, his hands yanking your leggings down, leaving you in just your panties. “I’ve never been more sure,” he said, his eyes raking over you, dark with lust. “I want to fuck you until you forget your own name.”

Your laugh was half-moan, your hands shoving his jeans down, freeing him. He was hard, thick, the sight making your mouth water. You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly, and he hissed, his head tipping back, jaw tight.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, grabbing your wrist to stop you. “Keep that up, and I won’t last.”

You smirked, stepping closer, your lips brushing his ear. “Then don’t. I want you to lose control.”

He snapped, lifting you onto the couch, your back hitting the cushions as he hovered over you, his body a delicious weight. His lips claimed yours, rough and desperate, as his hands tore your panties off, leaving you bare. His fingers slid between your thighs, finding you wet and ready, and he groaned, low and feral.

“So fucking wet,” he murmured, circling your clit, making you arch, a needy whimper escaping. “All for me?”

“Yes,” you gasped, hips bucking as he slipped a finger inside, then another, curling them just right, hitting that spot that made your vision blur. “Sunghoon, please—”

“Please what?” he teased, his voice dark, his fingers pumping faster, his thumb relentless on your clit. “Tell me what you want.”

“You,” you moaned, nails digging into his shoulders. “Fuck me, Sunghoon. Now.”

He didn’t hesitate, positioning himself between your thighs, his cock teasing your entrance. “Look at me,” he ordered, voice rough, and you obeyed, locking eyes as he thrust into you, slow at first, stretching you, filling you until you gasped, your body clenching around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hips snapping harder, deeper, the rhythm relentless. “You feel so good, baby.”

You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer, your moans mingling as he fucked you into the couch, each thrust driving you higher. His lips found your nipple, sucking hard, and you cried out, the pleasure overwhelming, your climax building fast.

“Sunghoon,” you whimpered, nails raking his back. “I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” he growled, his pace brutal, his hand slipping between you to rub your clit. “Let me feel you.”

You shattered, your orgasm crashing through you, your walls pulsing around him as you screamed his name. He followed, a guttural moan tearing from his throat as he spilled inside you, his thrusts slowing but not stopping, drawing out every wave of pleasure.

You collapsed together, sweaty and breathless, his body still pressed against yours, his lips brushing your temple. “Fuck,” he panted, a lazy grin spreading. “I need to propose every day if this is what I get.”

You laughed, weak and sated, your fingers tracing his jaw. “Don’t tempt me, Park.”

He kissed you, slow and sweet, his hand lacing with yours. “I meant it,” he murmured. “I’m keeping you forever.”

“Good,” you whispered, kissing his chest. “I’m yours.”

The next month was a whirlwind of new beginnings. You moved fully into Sunghoon’s room, your art supplies taking over half the penthouse. He surprised you with a studio space in Hongdae, a loft with skylights perfect for painting, your name on the lease. You enrolled in Hongik University’s art program, your sketches no longer just dreams but steps toward a future you could see.

Sunghoon’s company thrived under his leadership, free from Ji-yeon’s shadow. He worked hard, but he came home to you every night, trading boardroom battles for takeout and late-night talks. Min-ji became your closest ally, her teasing about your “grossly cute” relationship a constant source of laughter.

But Ji-yeon hadn’t vanished completely. She sent a letter, delivered by courier, a week after the confrontation. It was brief, her elegant handwriting laced with frost: You’ve won this round, but don’t think it’s over. Family is forever, Sunghoon. You burned it in the kitchen sink, Sunghoon’s hand on your shoulder, a silent vow to face whatever came together.

One evening, as you sat on the couch, your head on Sunghoon’s chest, he broke the comfortable silence. “I’ve been thinking about something,” he said, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm.

“Hmm?” you murmured, half-asleep from the warmth of him.

“A real wedding,” he said, his voice soft but sure. “Not for show, not for my mother or the press. Just us, the people who matter. What do you think?”

You sat up, your heart pounding. “Are you… proposing?”

He smiled, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. Inside was a ring—simple, with a single emerald that caught the light like your gala gown had months ago. “I guess I am. Marry me, Y/N. Again, but for real this time.”

Tears spilled over, and you laughed, throwing your arms around him. “Yes, Sunghoon. A thousand times, yes.”

The wedding was small, held in a seaside villa in Jeju, with Min-ji as your maid of honor and a handful of close friends. You wore a flowing dress, no diamonds, just wildflowers in your hair. Sunghoon looked at you like you were the only thing in the world, his vows raw and unscripted, promising to love you through every storm.

As you danced under string lights, the ocean whispering nearby, you knew this was the real vow—not the contract, not the gala, but this moment, your hearts unbound, your future yours to write.

Epilogue: One Year Later

The studio smelled of paint and cedar, your latest canvas—a vibrant abstract of Seoul’s skyline—drying by the window. You were halfway through a new piece when the door opened, Sunghoon stepping in with a paper bag from your favorite café.

“Thought you’d need a break,” he said, setting a latte and a croissant on your desk. He leaned against the wall, watching you with that quiet pride that still made your heart skip.

“You’re spoiling me,” you teased, wiping paint from your hands before kissing him, the taste of coffee lingering between you.

“Always,” he said, pulling you close. “Got a surprise, though.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Another one? You’re getting predictable, Park.”

He grinned, handing you an envelope. Inside were two plane tickets to Paris, dated for next month. “For your first gallery show,” he said. “I pulled some strings. Your work deserves to be seen.”

You stared at the tickets, then at him, tears welling up. “Sunghoon… how?”

“Because I believe in you,” he said simply, kissing your forehead. “And because I love you more than anything.”

You wrapped your arms around him, the studio fading as you held on to the man who’d become your home. The contract was a memory, the lies a stepping stone to a truth stronger than any vow. Whatever came next—art, love, life—you’d face it together, hearts open, unbound.

@heesvnqie | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

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[likeafeverrr]

𐙚⋆.˚ his perfect angel

psh x f!reader

a/n: if it ends w hoon we goon :p this might be buns but i need him so bad so who cares

wc: 3.2k

warnings: SMUT JS A LOT OF SMUT, fluff :3, petnames (baby, angel, dolly, sweetheart etc.), use of slut like once i think.., daddy kink… (im SORRY), hoon is lowk so down bad, praise kink, i think thats it lmk!!!^^

your parents being away on business only meant 2 things: freedom, and spending the week with sunghoon.

though only being a few years older, he was very present throughout your life. he would always accompany you to school in the mornings, even when you both attended separate schools and caused him several tardiness warnings. remembered all the little things, he loved making you feel seen and happy. sunghoon took great pride in almost always being the one to break you out of your shell every now and then, it didn’t matter where or with who he would be happy either way.

to you, he was something of a father figure. though you have a father who is alive and well, the emotional disconnect was nearly too intense to bare most days. sunghoon made space for you, listened to you, took such well care of you it became bloody stupid at some point. you sought an absolute comfort in his presence. his heart was so full of it when it came to you.

to sunghoon, on the other hand, you were his calm, his favourite face to come home to after a long day. he spent most days being as silent and closed off as he could be, only letting his guard down when necessary. people often mistook him as rude pr impolite because of his quiet nature, angering him to no return. however, if he knew he would home back to his apartment that night to your face, he would leave every frustration at the door.

you were his everything. moving from just a few houses down from you to his apartment on campus was one of the hardest things he’d done. he hated not being able to see you every day, that he wasn’t able to run over in less than 5 minutes to protect you from whatever harmful words your father decided to drunkenly throw at you. it killed him that you, his beautiful angel, were now so far.

he loved you so much it began to eat at him that he was barely able to hold you in his arms anymore.

you were so special, his perfect girl.

his.

well, not exactly. yet.

with a sigh, sunghoon jumbled with his keys and opened his apartment door. he tossed his bag and kicked off his shoes, making a b-line for the couch in the very dark apartment.

as sunghoon sat down on the couch, he felt as if sleep was immediately overwhelming all his senses.

that was until he heard the shower running.

there’s no fucking way i left the shower on this morning

he marched towards the bathroom and swung the door open.

to his surprise, it’s you. hands and clothes smudged with a cherry red dye and holding the handheld shower head.

his eyes immediately soften and he smiles.

“what’s all this, angel, hm?” he asks, leaning against the doorframe.

you smile widely at him and shrug, “got bored,”

sunghoon’s smile grows as he huffs with amusement, shaking his head.

“i can see that. need some help, baby?” he rolls up his hoodie sleeves and walks towards you, hand on your lower back.

you shake your head in response, smile plastered to your pretty lips.

sunghoon hums, leaning down to place a quick peck on your shoulder.

“i’m assuming you’re staying the night” he asks, backing up and out of the bathroom.

“yeah, is that okay? i know it’s late and i didn’t let you know first. i’m sorry hoonie-…”

“you never have to ask, angel, you know you can always stay with me, right?” he interrupts. when you nod, his smile returns and he nods back in acknowledgment.

“i’ll be in my room if you need anything, love. be careful yeah?”

“m’kay!”

he scoffs yet his fond smile remains.

—

around an hour and some red dye later, you found yourself with dark cherry coloured hair. you were exhausted of the ideas only being “what if’s” and were ready for a change.

after washing up and tidying the bathroom the best you could, quietly, you entered sunghoons room.

he was at his desk, glasses perched so pretty on his nose. he was wearing a hoodie that you had gifted to him on his twentieth birthday, black with his initials embroidered onto the sleeve. he still hadn’t changed into lounging wear and was still sporting a pair of his signature baggy jeans.

he was attractive and as far as you were aware of, he fucking knew it.

you thought of him often, probably more often then you felt comfortable admitting to yourself. you saw him as something of a father figure yet somehow you can never get the idea of him fucking you pussy raw, bent over whatever the nearest surface was for hours until you felt full to the brim.

pushing your nasty thoughts aside, you enter further into the room and sit on whatever edge of his bed was closest to him.

“give me three minutes, angel, then i’m all yours. just need to finish this report for class” he says, eyes glued to his desktop.

“s’not gonna take long hoonie i just wanted to show you my hair” you answer, fidgeting with your necklace’s pendant. for your eighteenth birthday earlier in the year, sunghoon bought you a beautiful silver pendant engraved with a bunny on the front and his initials carved into the back.

“well in that case..” he answers slyly, turning around in his chair to look at you.

“do we like?” you ask, slightly nervous. “it’s different i know but i kind of love it” you smile at him.

for a second too long sunghoon swore he felt himself get unbelievably hard in his pants. you looked so stunning. yes it was new but god, you were so beautiful.

sunghoon lets out a shaky breath before collecting his thoughts.

“you um… wow… so pretty, baby” he mumbles, standing him and placing a small kiss at the crown of your head. “suits you so good…”

you smile up at him, biting your bottom lip. sunghoon’s pants suddenly feel a little tighter than usual, he excuses himself the the washroom in the name of his nighttime routine and discards his stupid health report.

once he’s successfully, and most importantly, quietly, rubbed one out in the bathroom, he returns to his room where he finds you curled in his bed, wearing nothing but one of his shirts.

sunghoon’s thoughts begin to race once more but sleep overtakes any feelings of desire, ultimately deciding to slide in next to you’re tired body as he buries himself in your warm embrace.

—

you wake up to the bright rays of sun peaks through the blinds as well as whatever norwegian death metal sunghoon decided to set as his alarm.

you groan into a surface you soon realize to be sunghoon’s chest as you begin to stir awake.

“…hoon?” you mumble.

he hums into your hair as a response, holding you tighter against him.

while your mind wakes itself, you take time to note the way in which you both had slept. his bicep laid under your head, working as a pillow. you had one hand resting on his chest, the outside arm around his torso. he had also managed to wrap your outside leg around his waist which granted him the power to pull you flush against him.

you also note the very clear absence of clothing between the two of you. him, wearing a pair of sweat shorts and what you assume to not have anything else underneath. and you, wearing nothing but one of sunghoon’s shirts.

when you again realize what position you both have molded into, your body immediately tenses.

you could very easily rub you bare cunt onto his hip. he could very easily take you right then and there.

instead, you both lay in sweet silence as sunghoon’s alarm blares through the small room.

“hoonie… you gonna turn off the alarm…?” you ask, feeling groggy as ever.

he hums once more.

“five more minutes, angel…”

you huff and do your best to wiggle out of his grasp, climbing over him and clicking off his alarm.

sunghoon watched you in amusement as you turn off the alarm. he watches the way your tired body crawls on top of him, how his shirt rides up your back, exposing your bare ass and thighs.

all he can do is smirk and lay back. he knew he was growing hard, but he didn’t care. and very clearly neither did you.

once you managed to turn off the alarm, you felt sunghoon’s hand rub up and down, from the top of your ass to the back of your knee.

the position you were in really was a sight. on all fours, ass facing diagonal to sunghoon, giving him a clear view of everything he’s wanted to ruin for months.

“since when’d you stop wearing those cute panties to bed, baby girl, hm? y’know the ones with the lil’ strawberries all over ‘em..” his voice was low, dark, somewhat primal, like he was holding back.

you flush bright pink, refusing to look back at him. you knew you were in a vulnerable position, but you also knew you were with sunghoon. and as much as you wanted him to pump you full, you also knew he would never do anything to hurt you or put you in danger. you meant absolutely everything to him and he would rather get shot in the head thrice before doing anything to harm his perfect girl.

“answer me dolly..” he says, voice stern yet always soft when addressing you.

“a while ago…” you mumble, feeling your whole body go hot.

“a while ago, hm? why’s that angel? too hot at night for you?” he asks, teasingly. he grips the skin on your ass, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb afterwards.

you nod in response, no words nor sounds seem to be working in your favour at the moment.

“fuck…” he groans, “ain’t she so pretty… my baby’s so fuckin’ perfect… knew this pussy was gonna be pretty…” he says, running a finger down your folds. you whine at his touch and arch into the mattress.

“you like that, my angel? hm?” he asks.

you nod aggressively.

smack.

“words dolly, need words… does it feel good yes or no?”

your ass stings, a red hand print appeared on the skin. and yet, it only eggs you on.

“yes hoonie… feels s’good…” you mewl.

his smirk grows wide. you were already a mess beneath him and he’d barely done a single thing.

“can i keep goin’ or do you wanna stop?” he asks, voice weary. as much as he wants you he needs to make sure you want it as much as him.

you begin to nod repeatedly, mumbling a string of nonsense containing phrases like “don’t stop” and “i need you so bad”.

with your confirmation, sunghoon sits up and flips you over. he slips out of bed and drags you by your hips, swinging your legs on top of his shoulders.

“gimme a colour, sweet girl” he asks softly, rubbing your thigh tenderly.

“g-green… please hoonie please…” you whine.

and with that, he begins.

each lap of his tongue against your cunt sent you further and further into ecstasy. he was so rough with you yet treated your body as if it were made to be worshipped.

he let his hands travel up your thighs and to your stomach, to which you flinched. he immediately pulled back and grabbed your face, making sure you’re okay.

“angel what’s wrong? you wanna stop?” he’s scared, concerned and so unbelievably gentle all at the same time.

“n-no i don’t wanna stop…” you shake your head, grabbing his wrists.

“then what is it, my baby?” he strokes your cheek and wipes the hair out of your face.

“i just…” you inhale in preparation, “hoon ‘m insecure ‘bout… y’know…” you mumble, gesturing to your stomach and thighs.

you’d always been very selective about what you ate, dieting often, installing crazy work out regiments into your day to day life. your weight kept fluctuating and never ended up stabilizing. you’d always be insecure about shopping and not knowing what would fit and what wouldn’t, always cautious about outfit choices when in public, always comparing, always judging yourself.

it was toxic but it’s all you really knew.

his face drops.

no. fuck no.

you may have critiques about your appearance and body. that’s inevitable. but sunghoon? you have always been and will continue to be the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on. he was obsessed with what you called your “imperfections”. he loved every part of you.

and he was dead set on showing it.

“my angel, listen, insecurities are something we all live with. they aren’t just things we can decide to stop worrying about, it takes time to heal. but i need you to understand that i am, and will always be, so undeniably in love with everything that you are. you will always be my perfect girl and i’d rather die than have you forget that, my love”

he slowly backed away as he found his place between your thighs. sunghoon looked up at you like you had single handedly hung the moon and stars, like you has crafted each galaxy with your bare hands. you card your hands through his dark black locks as you look down at his beautiful face.

“let me show you baby… lemme show you how crazy you make me, yeah?”

you nod.

“words dolly, c’mon now..” he teases.

you giggle, giving him a clear yes.

“that’s my good fuckin’ girl”

he eats you out like a man starved, making you shake and cry and scream out his name as if having neighbours was simply just a concept.

he had three, long fingers pumping in and out of your sopping cunt, his kitten licks on your clit never ceasing.

he feels you clench around him, causing him to smirk.

“you gonna come dolly? hm?” he teases.

you nod rapidly as you babble.

“you gonna scream my name when you do angel? let everyone know you’re mine? eh baby girl?” you squirm in his grasp as he slaps your thigh, a warning for you to stay still.

“hoonie i c-can’t hold it…” you whine, jolting from the second slap which had landed directly onto your clit.

“no more ‘hoonie’ bullshit until we’re done, angel. i want none of it.” sunghoon’s tone now only demanding and lustful as he slaps your clit again, causing you to cry out.

“fuck-! daddy i can’t-!” you cry.

“atta girl, yes you can.. fuckin’ slut come… c’mon baby come all over me…”

your mind goes completely numb as you finally let go onto his hand. you’re out of breath and seeing stars. barely processing the fact that he’s now flipping you over onto your stomach, your ass up and facing him.

“gimme a colour, dolly” he asks, his voice returning to the gentle speech you’re so very used to.

“green! green green… please… need you so bad…”

he chuckles at your fucked out state, hand coming in contact with your ass again.

“my needy girl… what is it you want angel? hm? talk to me babe” he teases.

“need you inside… daddy need you inside please…” you continue your nonsensical babbles.

“you gonna let me fill you up, my love? fuck you full of me?” he continues to egg you on as he slips off his shorts. you glance over your shoulder at him, taken aback by his size.

you knew he was big.

but holy shit was he huge.

a hard slap to your clit strips you from your thoughts.

“you gonna answer the question angel or are you gonna just gawk at my cock, huh?” he says, smirk undeniable as he speaks.

“yes daddy..” you mumble.

“yes daddy what, love? you need to be more specific to get what you want my precious girl…” he speaks as he lines himself up at you dripping entrance.

“want you to fill me up daddy… please i need it so bad…” you whine, voice frail.

he smiles, this time less teasingly.

“don’t worry, my sweet girl, i’ll give you what you want”

then, he pushes in. slow and steady as he lets you adjust to his size. he groans when he finally bottoms out. looking down at the mess he created only made him grow harder inside of you.

“move.. please..” you ask weakly.

sunghoon chuckles and leans down to press a loving kiss by your shoulder blade.

“as you wish, my angel…”

the next thing you know you’re five orgasms in with no sign of sunghoon stopping any time soon. he’s fucking you hard and raw in doggy like he’d never felt pussy ever in his life.

he felt insane inside you. he wanted to mould you to him, make it so he could slide in with zero prep. make you his perfect little sleeve.

your babbles grow louder as you feel yourself approaching your sixth orgasm, your body goes somewhat limp as you clench around him again.

“fuck- angel you gonna come again so soon? mm.. gonna let me fill you up again? fuck you full of me? huh baby? make you all fuckin’ mine? my perfect fuckin’ toy aren’t you angel… daddy’s perfect girl…”

his words alone are what brought you all the way as your hole flutters around him and you find yourself shaking due to the impact.

“f-fuck so good angel… so fuckin’ good… ‘m so close baby… you’re so perfect fuck… love you so much dolly…” he babbles, letting your abused cunt milk him for the fifth time tonight.

as he fucks you through both your highs, a panting mess, he looks down at you. you’re all fucked out on his bed, hair tangled,

beads of sweat pooling between your pretty tits. you looked so perfect in his eyes.

sunghoon pulls out and leans down, wiping the hair our of your eyes.

“hoonie..?” you ask, voice raspy and quiet.

“yes, my sweet girl?” he responds, returning to his soft spoken ways.

“are we done..?” you question, struggling to sit up. he immediately grabs hold of your elbow and supports your back as you find a comfortable seated position.

“yes my love we’re done” he smiles, planting a kiss to your head as you nod.

“you need to go pee though, sweetheart, mkay?” he mumbles, voice muffled by your hair.

sunghoon helps you up and carries you to the washroom, you pee and he starts drawing you both a bath. you sit together in the warm water, your back against his chest as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, soft praises and many “i love you”’s.

you throw on the shirt that has previously started this whole debacle, making sure to put on a pair of sleep shorts which, in this case, was a pair of sunghoon’s boxers.

you both end up back in bed, giggling, exchanging soft kisses, random moments of passion (mainly on sunghoon’s end, he’s a horny fuck).

sunghoon pulls you into his chest and gazes down at you.

“you’re so fucking beautiful, y/n” he says, it’s nearly inaudible, as if you’d break if he spoke too loud. “wanna be with you like this forever”

“i love you, hoonie… so much…” you say, a hand loosely running through his hair.

“i love you so much more, my perfect angel”

—

taglist: @janiexoxoenha @plus-ultra0 @bestboileeknow

dm or comment if u wanna join! :0

[zorange13]

— the need for structure, nishimura riki

pairing. nerdy architect! nishimura riki x student! reader

cw. riki is a lil nerdy here, age gap (riki 27, reader 21 HEAR ME OUT YALL—), swearing, strangers to lovers, emotionally complex characters (it's me duh), fluff, kissing, riki is genuinely a good person here (such a sweetie, or at least he tries to be), reader's not exactly nice...but cut her some slack here, sex talk and adult conversations, purity rings, some angst, yearning omg, body image, teen conformity, visual metaphors (pay close attention. or don’t, i’d love if you enjoyed it either way), callbacks, both are pretty...damaged people, oh yeah sugar daddy riki!!, explicit sexual content (cunnilingus, penetration, unprotected sex which is ironic in hindsight but she’s on contraceptives canonically so fuck it), riki has a dig bick, dirty talk, i’d like to believe riki has a lil corruption kink, sucking, scratching (neither are too much), heavy banter and very conversation-based like all of my works. MINORS DNI.

wc. 36.3k (i'm so not sorry)

synopsis: you're a broke, cynical, and pragmatic student just trying to make ends meet. downloading a sugar-dating app was supposed to be a last resort—but instead, you match with Riki, an enigmatic, put-together architect who seems to care more about your honesty than your act. caught in a push and pull of control, generosity, and vulnerability, you’re forced to confront the one thing you’ve always avoided: love. the question is—will your fear win, or will you let yourself fall into the structure he’s building around you?

author's note: hey guys!! i hope you enjoy another one of my works. i started this like mid-august (ish?? idk i don't rly feel like checking) and i literally haven't been able to think about anything else. i know most of you have been asking me for other things but i'm working at my pace. pazienza, per favore <33. but enough of other works, please let me know your thoughts on this one. i love you all to bits <333

“You must be her.”

His voice is low and smooth, carrying a calm undercurrent of confidence that cuts through the chatter in the coffee shop. He stands beside the table, close enough for you to have to crane your neck to get a look at him. Dressed in a dark blue knit sweater, sleeves casually rolled, and silver jewelry. Nothing flashy or abnormal to what men usually wear. A watch on his non-dominant hand—in this case his right wrist. A thin bracelet on the other wrist and maybe two or three rings shared between both hands. “Didn’t actually expect you to show.” 

He pulls out the chair across from you and sits without waiting, his gaze drifting down for a moment—catching the faded patch on your denim messenger bag and the way your fingers fiddle with the edge of your sleeve. His smile is small but genuine, not rushed, like he’s already memorizing the moment.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be any more taken by this situation, let alone this guy. Who knew that matching—completely anonymously—on a sugar dating app on a random, lonely weekend would have you here? This guy was sexy as fuck. And while you tried to keep your jaw from touching the floor, you couldn’t help but take him in for the small time you could without him thinking you were crazy. Tall, clean, put together. His silky, shiny black hair was tousled—like he ran his hands through it all the time. But it looked good, it suited him. Silver-rimmed glasses that were perched on the edge of his nose and his moisturized plump lips. For him to be a very seemingly adult man, almost everything about him was very boyish. So charming.

“Hi,” you smiled nervously. “It’s nice to meet you.” Sticking your hand out for him to shake to which he reciprocated. His hands were soft, well-kept. And he smelled of a candle—most likely one he might have been burning in his home, pumpkin spice. But a mixture of musk that he sprayed from his cologne. “Likewise, the app…given that we couldn’t see what the other looked like…needless to say, I’m pleasantly surprised. You’re gorgeous.” He holds onto your hand a fraction longer than necessary before nodding gently—his smile mirroring that.

“Thank you, you’re…you look good too.” Clearing your throat, you let his hand go and scoot forward in your seat.

After you both ordered your beverages and pastries (which he so graciously paid for), you decided to really kick off the conversation. Riki broke off a piece of his lemon cake and asked, “I’m sorry, the app didn’t specify but I know it’s for ages twenty-one and older. But what’s your age?” You hummed as you sipped your iced coffee, contrary to the chilly weather out—you’re just a girl. “I’m twenty-one,” you verify. “You?”

“Twenty-seven,” he put a piece of the fluffy pastry in his mouth. Brows furrowing at the softness and immaculate flower. You, on the other hand, were aghast. “No way,” holding your chest as if letting it go would make your heart stop. “You look so young. What’s your secret?” Riki smiles, actually smiles, showing perfectly straight teeth. “Genetics, and no kids.” He chuckles. “I’d like to think I take good care of myself.” He tapped the table lightly, the metal from his watch clinking a bit. “So what do you do? Out of curiosity. I assume you’re a student.”

“Yessir,” you huff. “I am a student. Biology major, film and television minor.” It wasn’t that you hated college. You enjoyed the freedom and the fun and the partial responsibility you carried on your back. But over the last few months, you had been struggling immensely in the financial department and life was getting more and more difficult by the day.

Family asking what you were even planning to do with a biology and film degree. That your passions were useless. Friends wanting to go out for drinks—even though you don’t drink—and you used that as an excuse to not go. Even though you were really pinching pennies and barely even had two of those to rub together.

So downloading this sugar dating app was your last cry for help after sending emails, crying in offices, and selling half of your closet online just to not even be able to have enough for your bills anyway. Thus, right now the passions didn’t feel useless. But you knew it would take a while to be able to bear the fruits of your labor and you couldn’t wait any longer.

Riki smiled, “that’s amazing. What do you plan to do with them? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You shook your head, “no, no worries. Um…” You sipped your coffee and felt it burn coming down despite it being cold. Riki’s gaze had been doing that to you these last few minutes. “I wanna be a vet.” You nodded. “But I also wanna do screenwriting. They don’t really go together but…I love them both so…” You slowly smiled. “My heart lies with both and I…well I figured while learn something in the midst of the tens of thousands I owe, why not make it worthwhile?”

The older man laughed gently at your spirit. “I agree, doing what you love is always the best thing. That way, it doesn’t feel like work.” His well-manicured finger traced the rim of the white mug that held his hot chocolate. Steam brushing his rings just a bit.

“What about you?” He adjusted his glasses as he leaned further back into his seat, brows quirking. “Guess.” He says, folding his arms across his chest. His biceps bulge slightly against the fitted sweater. “What do you think I do for a living?” He teases, his tone light but challenging.

Something in you deflated, but in a good way. The pressure, the intensity of his gaze didn’t really make you freeze up for the moment and you allowed yourself to indulge in his playfulness. “Would you mind standing up?” He raises a brow but obliges, standing up straight. It’s almost like he got taller since he sat down. He watches you inspect him curiously, wondering what you’re thinking. “Well?” He asks after a moment, running his hand through his hair. Oh so he does do that all the time.

You laugh, “sorry, you can sit.”

He follows your command, his eyes never leaving yours. “So?” He asks, leaning forward slightly. His curiosity is piqued.  “Well…” you hummed in thought. “You’re very well put together. Obviously…you have money to give and spend otherwise we wouldn’t be here.” 

He nods approvingly at your observation. “That’s true.” He says, his voice low. “But what else?” He asks, eyes glinting in amusement at this little game.

You nod to him, “you’re wearing a knit sweater. Super cute by the way, where’d you get it?” Shrugging cutely as you rest your chin in your hands. Elbows planted on the table.

He laughs at your compliment, his chest shaking with mirth. “I got it at this boutique downtown.” He says, running his hand down the soft fabric. “And?” His smile remains on his face as he waits. Riki’s really enjoying this. “So…downtown is typically where gold collar workers live and/or go to shop. Don’t ask me how I know.” You wave him off with a laugh.

“Gold collar?” He chuckles, amused at your term. “Is that your way of saying I can afford nice things?”  You held your hands up in defense. “Hey, all I’m saying is that broke people don’t go down there.”

He shrugs, nodding in agreement. But gestures his hand for you to keep going, his smile still present. You put your hands out, facing upward on the table. “May I see your hands?”

He unballed his fists without question, placing his hands—palms touching yours. His hands are well taken care of, no callouses or rough patches. Nails neat and trimmed. His fingers are long though, slender, sort of like him in that regard. But it was clear that appearance—either—meant everything in this line of work or he was just super into vanity. Which didn’t bug you—there was nothing wrong with a clean man. You’d prefer that. You beamed, “so I was right about gold collar.” You sighed in satisfaction. “I’m literally a genius like this shit is crazy.”

“That I don’t doubt,” He slowly pulls his hands back, briefly removing his frames to blow on them as they had fogged up. As his cheeks reddened against his fair skin. “You want a hint?” “Absolutely not, what do you take me for? I shall figure this out. This is like the Career Ladder but…in a cafe.” You snort as you look at the condensation of your iced coffee form a ring around the plastic cup. Making you put a napkin under it. “Would you consider yourself smart?”

“Without a doubt,” he answers honestly, his confidence shining through. He’s intelligent and he knows that and he’s far from afraid to admit it. But there’s something about the way you’re asking that makes him pause. Like he’s waiting for you to try to catch him in a lie or something.

“How many close friends do you have?”

He thinks about it for a moment before answering. “Not many.” He admits softly. “I have acquaintances and colleagues I trust, but actual close friends?” He shakes his head slightly. “Not many, maybe like two?” “If you don’t mind me asking, you obviously don’t have to but—have you had issues socially? Growing up?”

He hesitates before nodding slowly. “Yeah.” He says softly. “I’ve always been more comfortable with adults rather than kids my age.” He watches your reaction closely—which was an open one, a non-judgmental, safe one. “I was always the weird kid who preferred books and shapes over playground games.” He laughs softly at the memory. “I don’t think my classmates liked me very much.” Smiling knowingly, tilting your head as you look at him endearingly. “Riki, I think you’re an architect.”

Riki leans back, blinking at you like he just saw a ghost—or maybe like you just read his mind. “Wait…what gave it away?” His tone is half amused, half incredulous. You shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Oh, I don’t know…maybe the way you answered my questions.” You tap the table lightly. “The hands—soft, meticulous, trimmed nails. Lets me know that in some way, you clearly value your appearance. But you interact with a lot of people and looks are everything. Presentation is everything. The shapes thing—tells me you love geometry or metrics. That’s like the very basic fundamentals of architecture. Preferring books over playgrounds. Even your glasses, the little way you adjust them when thinking.” You glance upward in thought. “Half of your answers told me who you were, but maybe some parts here and there were just a long shot.” Waving off as you smile.

“You’re very observant,” he sips his hot chocolate that wasn’t hot anymore—just chocolate. “Can I give you more details about what I do?”

“By all means,” smiling and nodding eagerly.

His eyes softened at your attitude—your seemingly blatant interest in him. “I…am a licensed architect. Senior. I specialize in a myriad of styles like residential and urban design.” He tapped his foot as he spoke. “But I also am in the process of starting my own firm. Aside from that, I invest in real estate, stocks, index funds—I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I just like watching money grow…I’m a…” He looks down shyly, the crimson on his cheeks making another appearance as he smiles politely. “A bit of a nerd about this stuff.”  “Nerdy, yes. But…” You shrug with a smile, indifferent and in a lot of admiration. “That’s kinda hot, honestly.”

Riki freezes for a fraction of a second before chuckling softly, a low, amused sound. “Hot? I—well…thank you,” he mutters, a little caught off guard, but clearly pleased. He adjusts his glasses, running a hand through his hair again, this time slower, like he’s savoring the moment.

“Mhm,” you say softly, eye contact not breaking now that you were in control of this conversation. It wasn’t until now that you realized that you two weren’t in private anymore. And that more time had elapsed than you thought. The flame of the once bustling cafe is now dying slowly. 

Riki checked the time on his watch and understood now that the cafe closes in thirty minutes. “Hey…they close in a bit. Are you done for the night or do you wanna maybe…?”

A smile spreads across your face slowly. “Keep hanging out?”

Riki’s lips curl into that small, knowing smile of his. “I like the sound of that,” he says softly, pulling a fifty dollar bill out of his pocket. “I’m just gonna put this in the tip jar and I’ll be back…” He stands with a bashful expression, turning to go to the counter.

—

You two step outside and you look at him expectantly. “So? What to do next?” Fiddling with the charms of your bag as you strolled down the bustling city square. “I was thinking about going to the park? Or you’d rather be somewhere warm?” Riki scanned you, inspecting your body language for any indication of chill—not seeing any but taking your bag off of your shoulder gently. “I got it…”

“Thank you,” smiling softly as you adjust your sweater. “Yeah, it is a bit cold for the park.” He nodded eagerly, “yeah, yeah. Okay.” Smiling and adjusting his frames as they kept slipping down his nose. “Uh…we could go to my car if you want? Like—just chill and talk there?”

You snort, “wanna get straight to business, huh?” Turning your head to look up at him to find his eyes already glued to you. “Right in the car?” Riki tilted his head, assessing the situation and giving you a nod. “Fair. But I mean…considering our arrangement, I figured we could talk about more than just me? I wanna know you too.” He clears his throat, sniffling a bit as his nose was a bit red from the chill in the air. “Only if you want to. Or if you even wanna contin—”

“I do, Riki…relax.” Placing your hand on his arm—his sculpted, firm arm that you could feel through the plush and expensive threading of his sweater. “I’m cool with it. Could help break the ice, honestly.”

He snorts, “you think there’s ice?”

“A bit,” you pinch your fingers together. Riki huffs a laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “Fair enough. Guess I need to work on my…ice-melting skills.” He blinks, kicking himself at how stupid he thought he sounded.

“Mm, you’ll get there,” you tease, bumping his arm lightly with your shoulder as the two of you weave past the thinning evening crowd. He glances at you again, lingering a moment too long before looking away. “My car’s just around the corner,” he says, tone casual but careful. “It’s warm, I promise. Heated seats and everything. Perks of…well, being me.” His grin is self-deprecating but a little smug too.

You roll your eyes with a small laugh. “So you’re saying you’re trying to flex on me with seat warmers?”

“Hey, don’t knock it 'til you try it.” he chuckles, tugging his keys from his pocket. “C’mon. I’ll even let you pick the heat setting.”

That earns him a raised brow from you. “Oh? Now that’s a dangerous offer.”

“I live dangerously,” he shoots back, deadpan, though the twitch of his lips betrays him. When he finally unlocks the sleek black car waiting at the curb, he moves ahead to open the passenger door for you—subtle, gentlemanly, not pushy. The warmth inside greets you instantly, and you sink into the plush leather seat, adjusting yourself while he slides into the driver’s side. The hum of the engine fills the space as the heater kicks in. You rub your hands together, watching him adjust his glasses again, his profile illuminated by the streetlight pouring through the windshield. He looks back at you after. Holding up your bag. “Do you want it in the back? With you? Want me to hold onto it?”  “Well, aren’t you considerate?” You grinned, taking the bag from him, gently removing it from his grasp. Settling it on the floor by your feet. “Thank you.” You sigh, taken by how fast your Friday is moving. When you got up this morning, you were nearly shitting bricks at the fact that you were going to be on this venture with some random rich man that you didn’t know. To make matters all worse, he’s quite literally the hottest man you’ve had the pleasure of looking in the eye. 

Nerdy, tall, dark hair…Oh Lord help you. Just your type.

But that didn’t matter, his looks were just a plus. On top of how nice he was being. He’s only ever looked at you with softness in his eyes since he sat down at the cafe and has been nothing but a gentleman. Which gives you some sort of consolation given that you expected a lot worse.

But looks and personality don’t mean shit here, you needed his fucking money.

You surveyed his car, making note of the infotainment system that spanned the entire dashboard. The leather seats still had the new smell. And the interior was such a pretty shade of brown. Very fit for the fall. “You have a nice car.”

He nodded as an acknowledgement of your compliment. “Thank you. But like I said, I wanna get to know you. As a person?” He smiles gently as he turns to face you fully.

You snorted, “as a person?” Narrowing your eyes, you shook your head at his seemingly ridiculous statement. “Wouldn’t that kinda ruin the allure? The…fantasy of this entire thing?”

Riki furrowed his brows, “why would it?”

“Because…” You shrug cavalierly. “If I’m supposed to be your…sugar baby then it’s practically my job to act. To make this a world for you.”

“That’s why I wanted to discuss this because I don’t need you to act.” He paused, gulping before he spoke. “I just want a companion…I’d rather you just be yourself.” Riki pursed his lips in thought, showing off the beauty mark on his chin. “I know that this relationship is essentially transactional but we did meet on a sugar-dating app. And…well…this is a date for me.” 

You blink at him, caught off guard. “A date?”

“Yeah,” he says plainly, adjusting his glasses as if that makes the statement less vulnerable. “A date. I don’t…really go on them much. And even if I did, I don’t think I’d be this—” he gestures vaguely between the two of you, his sweater sleeve sliding down his wrist. “—comfortable.”

You swallow, your fingers fiddling with the strap of your bag at your feet. “Comfortable?”

“Mhm.” He leans against the seat, fixing his sleeves to cover his arms. “You’re easy to talk to. You don’t…look at me like I’m a wallet with legs.”

That makes you laugh, though there’s a sharp edge to it. “Well, let’s be honest, Riki. If you didn’t have a wallet, we wouldn’t be here.”

He flinches, just barely, but his smile doesn’t falter. “True. But I don’t think that’s all it is.”

You bite your lip, suddenly hyper-aware of the heater humming, the low glow of the dashboard lights reflecting in his glasses, the way the world outside the car feels so distant compared to the cocoon you’re in now. “So…you want a girlfriend? And you wanna pay me to be your girlfriend?”

Riki exhales a short laugh, running a hand through his hair like he’s trying to buy time. “Not exactly. I don’t want to…buy you.” His voice dips lower, more careful. “I want to support you. And in return, I get someone who’s actually here with me. Not an act. Not…plastic.” His eyes flicker to yours, earnest behind the glasses.

You tilt your head, studying him. “So what—you’re saying you want the illusion stripped away? No roleplay, no sugar-baby persona?”

“I’m saying,” he leans slightly closer, resting an arm casually on the center console, “that I’d rather pay for your tuition and your time—your time—than some empty performance. It matters to me that when you laugh, it’s real. That when you look at me…” His words trail off, but his meaning hangs heavy in the heated air between you.

You swallow again, your throat closing up despite yourself. Fuck, you hated the sincerity behind his eyes and this was starting to make you extremely aware of who you were as a woman. All of the things that you wanted to leave behind and being with him was almost going to force you to confront these things. Because to you, whether he admitted it or not: he wanted a girlfriend. “So…do understand that I also have a life outside of this.”

“As do I,” he nodded, face clear of doubt. “I’m not asking you to give that up. I’d rather you didn’t. I want you to…” He nodded as his eyes flitted to the side in thought. “Live like a normal twenty-one year old should.”

“Okay…” you hummed. “So this means that you’re fine with me…” you shrugged one shoulder, testing him. “Say…dating? Like, seeing other people?”

His jaw slacked just a little as it ticked. “Oh baby no,” he shook his head in finality. “I don’t share.”

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth to muffle it as the other held your stomach. “What?”

“I’m a very jealous man, I’m sorry. Plus, I firmly believe that after some time with me, you’re not gonna want anyone else.” He said with full conviction, that this was the first time that he hadn’t been eager to please nor thrown by any sudden compliments that he wasn’t used to hearing.

You sit up, the first time you’d been very drawn to conversation with him the entire night. “Okay, so what exactly am I dealing with here? As far as…terms, you as a person—matter of fact, let me ask so…what type of man are you?” You met his gaze with a curious look.

“That’s a very layered question, I mean…so many different types of men have curated this.” He gestured to himself. “Like…I’ve been fortunate enough to have many men, besides my father, guide me through relationships, careers, life shit…”

“Give me a gist.” You wave off.

He stayed silent for a second, sifting through and racking his brain for things or words or moments that he’d be able to give a full image of himself on a platter for you. “Okay, as far as my character. I’m going to tell you the things that I think I am and what people have told me I am.”

“I’ve been told I’m attentive,” he starts, voice steady but soft, “patient. People say I’m…consistent. Reliable. I don’t flake. I don’t play games.” His eyes meet yours, unwavering, like he wants you to truly understand him. “I care about the people I let in. Very deeply. Sometimes too deeply.”

You nod, letting that sink in, curious now, wanting him to continue.

“I’ve also been called…intense.” He chuckles softly, a low, almost self-deprecating sound. “I can overthink, overanalyze. And I take pride in details. Whether it’s work, or life, or relationships. I…expect honesty. Directness. And I give the same in return.”

“Okay…” you rest your cheek on your fist, giving him your undivided attention. 

“But I’d like to think that I’m careful, I can be very stubborn. Like once my mind is set on that then I will not budge because at that point I’ve weighed every possible outcome before making a decision. I’ve trusted my gut everyday up until this point and I’m in an amazing position in my life. And I take that very seriously.” He says firmly. “But I’m working on not being that way…I just trust myself so much that it comes hard to believe other people when they tell me literally anything. Career-wise, usually.”

You blink at him, impressed despite yourself. “Wow…" you murmur, a mix of admiration and wariness in your tone. “Like…that's exhausting just listening to you explain that.”

He laughs softly, a quiet, almost shy sound that doesn’t match his confident demeanor. “It’s…how I operate. I can’t help it. But that doesn’t mean I expect you to be the same way.” His eyes soften, scanning your face. “I just…wanted you to know what you’re dealing with. Not to scare you.”

You tilt your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Not scared…just…aware. That’s a lot to unpack.”

He nods slowly, letting the pause linger. “I know. And I’m not asking for a decision right now. I just want you to know…if you’re in, I’m all in too. I don’t do things halfway. With work, with people, or…with you in this case. I take you seriously as long as you give me that in return.”

Something in your chest tightens at his words. It’s bold, almost reckless, and a little intoxicating. You shift slightly in your seat, the heater hum low and warm, the car a tiny world of its own. “You make it hard not to be intrigued,” you whisper, voice softer than intended.

Riki leans back into the seat, just enough to gauge your reaction. Even more so to make the tension tangible. “What about you?”

“Um…hmm…” You huffed. “Also a lot to say…but I’d say that I’m a little cynical. Bitter. Very pragmatic, especially in this…” You gesture between you two, “Not saying I’m not a believer—”

“It’s just not something that’s normal for this circumstance—I get it.” 

“Yeah…but besides that I’d say that I’ve been told I’m loyal. Honest as well—this goes on my end too—I don’t see a reason to lie to anyone unless they’d have some sort of power or prove to be a risk to my life.”

“When I’m comfortable, I can be a very affectionate person. Verbally and physically—but I usually do like…acts of service because that doesn’t always involve either.” You laugh softly toward the end, a tinge of self-deprecation in there somewhere. But Riki doesn’t laugh. He watches. And listens. Attentively.

“But fuck…Riki I can be mean. Very mean and I hate that about me. I don’t like it.

Riki’s gaze softens even further, his jaw loosening as he leans slightly forward. “Mean?” he echoes quietly, curiosity and concern threading his tone. “How…mean are we talking?”

“Since we’re being honest here…I’m a very sensitive person and…this sounds crazy…walk with me…” You hold up your hand before he can say anything or judge you but he dismisses with an encouraging nod. “When I love someone and something they say or do upsets me or even rubs me the wrong way…I just retract. It makes me pull back because in some way…I see that person saying that hurtful thing as rejection. And when I love someone, I see them as perfect. Even through all the flaws—they’re still perfect and can do no wrong in my eyes. So to have a moment of hurt tied to someone I think is just my everything…makes me not even want to be around them.”

Riki stares at you for a long beat, his brows knitting ever so slightly, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle only you could give him. His voice comes quiet, low, but steady. “That…doesn’t sound crazy to me at all.”

You blink, caught off guard. “It doesn’t?”

He shakes his head, slow and deliberate. “No. It sounds…human. Sensitive, yeah—but also honest. You love hard. And when you do, you hold people so high that the fall from grace feels catastrophic.” He exhales, almost like he’s talking himself through the thought. “That kind of love…it’s rare. It’s scary as hell but it’s rare.”

Your throat tightens at his words, because you weren’t expecting him to get it. Most people just called you dramatic. Too much. Too emotional. You look down at your lap, fiddling again with the strap of your bag, voice softer now. “It doesn’t feel rare when it’s happening. It just feels…like I suffocate people. Or worse, like I set them up to fail.”

Riki’s lips twitch into the smallest smile—not mocking, but almost tender. “Maybe. Or maybe you just haven’t found someone who can stand in that kind of fire without flinching.” His eyes flicker to yours, unwavering. “Don’t mistake intensity for weakness. You’re not broken for feeling that way.”

Something in your chest aches at that—like he’s reaching for a part of you you usually keep padlocked. You let out a weak laugh, but it’s laced with disbelief. “You make it sound like it’s some…gift. Like it’s noble or something.”

“It is,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He leans back slightly, gaze still locked on you. “Take it from me, love is terrifying. Absolutely scary. But the great thing about this…” he gestured around the car. “...Is that we aren’t there yet. Not even a fourth of the way there yet. I can’t promise that I won’t piss you off because we are going to get mad at one another. That will happen. But I can promise now that if you wanna do this, that I got you.” He folded his hands over his stomach—mainly as a way to keep from reaching to touch you.

“You got me?” You ask skeptically.

“Mhm. Financially, you don’t have to worry yourself about whatever it is you worry about. Bills, paid. I’ll be giving you a monthly allowance of…literally anything. Name your price.” He nods to you.

You gulp, this was actually becoming real. And now you were faced with a decision: name your actual price—meaning you factor in the things you truly have been wanting. Or play it safe, be respectful after you two just shared that little heart-to-heart. You did feel like it was fine that you were only here for the money, because you were. But it got hard to take advantage of him when he had just told you how hard he loved and that was going to give you his all. Whether this turned out the way he wanted it to be or not.

So you chose the latter. “I’m good with two-thousand a month.” 

He physically drew back, face screwed up almost comically—partially in disgust. “Two—dude that’s someone’s rent money. I’m not giv—are you trying to insult me?”

Your jaw drops. “Insult you?” You lean forward, laughing in disbelief. “Riki, I just asked for what is literally life-changing money for me and you’re acting like I offered you a coupon to Olive Garden.”

He squints at you like you’ve grown three heads. “Two thousand? A month? Babe, that’s…that’s cute. That’s adorable. I said name your price, not…lowball yourself.”

You snort, trying to cover the flush creeping up your neck. “Excuse me for not immediately asking Daddy Warbucks for ten bands just for existing.”

“I’d respect you more if you did,” he shoots back, smirking now. “You don’t even know what ‘reasonable’ is in my world. You saying two grand is like me handing you a Starbucks gift card and calling it a salary.”

Your mouth hangs open, a laugh escaping despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re undervaluing yourself,” he says smoothly, no hesitation, like it’s not just about money anymore. His gaze is steady, almost challenging. “So try again.”

The air in the car goes still. You can feel his eyes daring you—pushing you past your own hesitation, the little voice in your head that tells you to play small.

“…Okay,” you say slowly, biting your lip, letting a mischievous smile curl on your face. “What if I said five?”

He tilts his head, lips twitching. “Getting warmer. Still very cold though.”

“Seven?”

His smile widens, like a predator humored. “Closer.”

Your brows fly up. “You’re crazy.”

“No,” he says, leaning forward now, elbows resting on his knees. “I’m serious. You’re worth more than scraps, sweetheart. So stop testing me and tell me what you really want.”

“Fifteen.”

He squinted, nose scrunching. “Still warm.”

“Bro,” you snorted. “Fine, twenty-five.”

“Thirty and we have a deal.”

The air goes quiet again, heavy, but not suffocating. You feel your pulse thrum in your ears as you shift in your seat. There’s something dangerous about the way he says it, not just the money but the conviction behind it. Like he’s not just negotiating an allowance—he’s staking a claim.

“…So that’s it? Thirty or nothing?” you ask, lips quirking, trying to lighten it.

“Thirty or nothing,” he echoes, his grin widening, teeth flashing like he just checkmated you. “So what’s it gonna be?”

“This is my money?”

He nodded obviously, “your money.”

“And I don’t have to use it on anything but what I want to use it on? Not bills, not anything catered toward livelihood and responsibility?”

“Not a dime.” He shook his head. “I have that handled. Any necessities like…bills, nails, hair, clothes I’ll be paying for.”

“Nails and hair? That’s like—”

He shook his head until you shut up. “A lady doesn’t pay for hair or nails, that shouldn’t have to come out of your allowance. That thirty-thousand is for anything you want. You could save it, invest it, spend it on makeup—if you do wear it often then I’ll pay for that too but—anything you see that you want that I’m not around to purchase…you use your allowance.”

You stare at him, part of you waiting for the punchline, but he doesn’t blink. Doesn’t budge. You shift again, suddenly aware of how small the car feels, how close he is. “You’re basically bribing me into liking you.”

“No,” he corrects smoothly, leaning in just a fraction. “I’m making sure you never confuse survival with choice. If you’re here with me, I want it to be because you want to. Not because you’re stuck worrying about bills, or tuition, or groceries. Freedom looks good on people.” His eyes catch yours, holding them steady. “I want it on you.”

The silence that follows is deafening, your chest tight, your mouth dry. For once, you don’t have a quick comeback. Just the dangerous, dizzying realization that maybe—just maybe—he’s dead serious about all of this.

“Deal.”

—

Riki pulls into the parking lot of your apartment building. It wasn’t much. Just a brick building, streetlights, and the occasional raccoon. But it was good for short notice, a ten minute walk from campus, and the rent wasn’t totally crushing. 

The wind sang and sent a brisk reminder of the impending weather—the rain that was forecasted. So you turned to the man beside you, who was already looking at you with the kind eyes he always did. “This you?”

“Yessir,” you nodded awkwardly. “I mean I did direct you here didn’t I?” Smiling in humor.

He laughed softly, “you did, in fact.” Adjusting his glasses, he asked, “so…when can I see you again?” Clearing his throat as his Adam’s apple bobbed and he bit his lip to suppress a smile. 

You blink at him, caught off guard by how…boyish that question sounds coming from a man who just offered you thirty-grand like it was gas money.

“When can you—” you huff out a little laugh, shaking your head. “Riki, you just negotiated my entire future in your car and now you’re asking me out like a high schooler.”

He grins sheepishly, running a hand over his jaw. “I like a little balance.” His eyes glint under the streetlight, warm and steady. “So…when?”

You look down at your hands in your lap, chewing your lip. The easy answer would be never again—keep the distance, keep the power in your court. But then you remember the way he spoke in the car, all conviction and care, like he wasn’t just talking to you but making vows no one asked for. And a part of you felt like you owed it to him. Even though you really didn’t owe him a damn thing. But he was so kind, so gentle with you that you couldn’t dare to turn him down. Despite the jaded part of you that wanted to eat him for lunch.

“You know what…you can come get me after class on—wait what days are you like, off from work? Or like when do you get off?” You paused, holding both hands and making a seesaw, scale-esque motion—indicating your attempt at fairness.

Riki’s mouth curved at that, not just a smile but the kind that told you he was quietly cataloguing every detail of how you just asked him—your hands miming scales, your voice trying to sound casual but betraying your nerves.

“I’m flexible,” he said smoothly, but then tilted his head like he couldn’t resist teasing you. “But if you’re asking about my ‘office hours’…I’m usually done around five. Fridays are lighter. Weekends…” His brows lifted, gaze steady on you. “…I’ll move things around if it means seeing you.”

You blink at him, caught between flattered and overwhelmed. “You make it sound like scheduling the Pope.”

He chuckled, low and warm, leaning back against the headrest. “Maybe. But unlike the Pope, I’ll actually show up.”

That earned a soft laugh out of you despite yourself. “Okay, Mister Reliable. But I figure that…I want to further break the ice and…cook for you.” You nod, soft smile still there. “I love to cook for people and this is like…a love lan—” You paused. “A way to show I care.”

He notes your slip but doesn’t say anything. Just nodding and running a hand through his hair. “I’ll send extra money for groceries—matter of fact, just tell me what you need to get and—”

You shake your head. “No, it’s a surprise. I’ll get it myself.”

He snorts, feeling his face heat up and grateful for the moonlight that you don’t see it. “Okay, well I’m sure Blue will be happy to meet you.”

You draw back, “I thought you said you had no girlfriends or kids.”

“I never said I didn’t have any fur kids.” He snickers. “I have a best friend, his name is Blue. He is my dog.” Riki says clearly.

Your jaw drops, half-relieved and half-exasperated. “Riki, you cannot just—” you swat his arm with a laugh. “I’m thinking you had a girl or baby or something like…”

“Nah. But I will tell you not to be worried. Blue is very friendly. You’re not afraid of dogs are you?” He frowns. “Because I can put him away before you arrive.”

You shake your head quickly, still laughing. “No, no—I love dogs. I just…you know, wasn’t expecting you to casually introduce me to a fur kid mid-conversation.”

Riki smirks, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Casual is my specialty. But Blue will like you, I promise. He’s a good judge of character.” He glances at you, teasing in his tone. “Plus, I kind of want him to approve before you get too comfortable with me.”

You shake your head with furrowed brows. “I feel that. Dogs are very good judge of character.” You paused again, bouncing your leg now. “So…does Tuesday at six sound good?”

Riki’s smirk slowly turns to a wide smile, pleased with you at the moment. “Mhm, perfect. But do know that this is the last planning you will be doing.”

“Glad to know we’re on the same page, partner.” You grabbed your bag in preparation to leave and before you could even touch the handle—Riki was already out and on your side of the vehicle. Opening the door for you and subsequently helping you out. 

You got a whiff of that musk again, the pumpkin spice. But overall, he just smelled clean. Sounds crazy but all rich people sort of have the same smell, maybe smelling like money is a thing.

“It was wonderful meeting you. And I can’t wait to see where this goes.” Riki slowly brings your hand to his lips, kissing the back of your hand without letting go of your gaze.

You catch your breath at the sudden tenderness, your fingers tingling from the warmth of his lips. “Yeah…me too,” you murmur, voice a little softer than you intended.

Riki gives your hand a final squeeze before letting go, letting it drop slowly to your side. “I’ll text you later tonight,” he says, the smile on his face easy, unforced. “We’ll set up that cooking thing. Blue will be ready for his first inspection.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I still can’t believe this is happening.”

“Consider it…training,” he quips, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You pass, you stay. You fail…” He makes the air between you feel electric. “You’re still probably safe, but I'll never let you live it down.”

You grin, stepping back and tucking your bag over your shoulder. “You're already the worst, like seriously.”

He watches you for a beat longer, like memorizing the way you move, before finally nodding and heading back to his car. You can’t help but feel a little flutter—half nerves, half excitement—thinking about the strange, unexpected little world you’ve just stepped into.

—

As soon as you opened your front door, your phone buzzed:

Riki Nishimura transferred $5,500 to your checking account ending in (...XXXX)

Note: Advance + groceries for dinner <3

Since when did you need five-thousand dollars for groceries? Were you tripping? Did you both not agree to your allowance just being thirty-thousand? Plus, you and him didn’t even really get to work things out yet.

You stand in the middle of your apartment, the door still halfway open, staring at your phone like it’s grown horns.

“Five thousand?” you whisper to yourself, blinking hard as if that’ll make the number shrink. Nope. Still there. Your bank app is suddenly glowing like the gates of heaven. This is the most you’ve seen in it since you got it in high school.

Closing the door with your hip, you set your bag down and flop onto the couch, scrolling back up to double-check the transaction. 'Advance + groceries for dinner <3.'

You snort, tossing your phone onto the cushion beside you. “Since when does Whole Foods charge five grand for groceries, Riki?”

The worst part? Your stomach does a nervous flip—not from guilt, but from how easily he just…did that. No hesitation, no warning, like dropping a casual tip. He had called thirty thousand “reasonable,” and now he’s giving you this money like spare change. It seemed surreal even though this was all of what you wanted.

Your phone buzzes again.

Riki: Don’t freak out. Just something to get you started. :)

—

Tuesday came by faster than you knew and by the time Riki had made it to your house for the scheduled time, you were already on your way out the door. 

With two grocery bags in hand—reusable plastic bags because we care about the environment—you exited through the front entrance of your redbrick building. Scanned the block for the black vehicle you saw—not being able to find it through the sea of cars that were parked along the street but a beep was enough to draw your attention. 

Pulling the car a little further up in front of you, Riki climbed out and hurriedly made his way toward you. “Hi, how are you?” His smile was the same as always: dazzling. But warm, and kind on the soul. “Sorry, I couldn’t remember which building was yours but I got the general area.” He gently removed the bags from your grasp and held his arm for you to grab. 

“No, it’s okay.” You linked your arm with his. “The street can be a bit confusing. But I’ve been doing a lot better these last few days.” You looked up at him though he wasn’t facing you and was helping you down the steep sidewalk. 

He did perk up at the admission, though. “That’s great, my love. What made them so good?” He opened his backseat after you let him go. Setting the bags on the floor so they can fit snuggly, careful not to tip them over during any turns. 

You shrug, “I may have had something to look forward to.” Smiling at your cheesiness as you saw him give you his attention now that the two of you were face-to-face. “Y’know? Seeing you?”

The older man laughed softly. “You like me already?” He edged closer to you as he gently pulled you in for a hug, rubbing your back in a way that wasn’t just friendly. But secure. That in this neighborhood that was so rough around the edges, you were safe and nothing could touch you. 

“You’re alright, I guess.” You smirk, jabbing at him a little. “Don’t go getting a big head now.” Pulling back as you took another whiff of the cologne he wore today. Softer, a bit more perfume-esque. Soft linen. He reminded you a lot of you. Signature scents are cool but sometimes you might want to just catch a vibe with a fragrance.

He opens your door, “Call me Megamind then.” He sings-songs as watches you enter, ensuring your seatbelt is on before he makes his way to the driver’s side before pulling off.

You two chit-chat for a few minutes before you inquire. “Wait, I thought you lived downtown?” Brows furrowed, you looked at your surroundings—seeing that he was passing by the city square that was just by the lower area that you spoke of. 

“No, you assumed I lived there because that was where I chose to shop for that sweater I wore one time!” He laughed, his hand finding yours while he drove with one hand. 

Caught off guard by the gesture but still pleased, you smiled as you reciprocated the affection. Squeezing his hand tightly, “I’m sorry!”

He glances at you briefly, smirk tugging at his lips. “Don’t apologize. I like hearing what you assume about me. Helps me see how you…picture me.”

You huff a laugh, shaking your head. “Well, in my head, you live in some glass high-rise with a skyline view, a wine cooler, and like…a bathtub that could fit six people.”

Riki’s laugh bursts out of him, low and surprised. “A wine cooler? That’s the detail you’re sticking with?”

“You just give me that vibe.” you shoot back, grinning as you turn to face him more. “And one of those weird coffee table books that’s just pictures of architecture no one reads but it makes you look cultured.”

His fingers squeeze yours as he shakes his head, chuckling. “Damn, you got me pegged. I do have the cooler, and…” he pauses, glances at you with a mischievous spark in his eyes. “…there is a coffee table book.”

Your mouth drops. “I knew it!” You laugh, smacking the back of his hand playfully before realizing—you’re still holding it. Which makes the whole gesture softer somehow, not just teasing but intimate. “So you’d get pegged?”

Riki’s eyes widened as he turned to glance at you briefly. “Young lady, where did you learn such language?! And it’s a figure of speech!” He snorted, suppressing a laugh as he turned onto the expressway—the air feeling lighter now as he scolded you in jest.

You laughed, genuinely laughed as the sound permeated the vehicle and it took you a minute to gather yourself. Riki reciprocated as he squeezed your hand. What you said wasn’t that funny, not really. But your laugh—as obnoxious and mildly ugly as it was—brought joy to him. For once, he felt warm. Comfortable. That the search for companionship that he’d be seeking for the last few years was paying off well. His smile softened as watched you cool down.

“C’mon, you’re twenty-seven. Six years my senior, it’s not like you haven’t been around the block.”

Riki side-eyed you, lips twitching as he bit back another laugh. “First of all—disrespectful. Second of all, just because I’ve been around the block doesn’t mean I’ve been in every alleyway, genius.”

You smirk, tilting your head at him. “So you’re admitting you’ve at least peeked down a few alleys.”

“See, this is what I get for holding your hand,” he muttered, though his thumb absentmindedly brushed over your knuckles like he had no intention of letting go. “I try to be sweet and you turn it into something completely…perverted.”

You grin, leaning into your seat, smug. “Don't act like you don't like it.”

His laugh was low, the kind that warmed the air in the car. “Maybe I do.” He shrugged one shoulder, letting the silence and white noise of the cars speeding down the road fill the car.

You broke it though because you talk too damn much. “So, where do you live? Where’s Casa di Riki?”

Riki just dignified your silliness with a smile, “From you, I live about twenty minutes out. Just one town over. Very suburban.” He nods slowly as he merges into a new lane. 

“The city too much for you?” Leaning back into the leather seats, you crossed your legs as you reapplied your lip gloss. Pulling down the overhead mirror. Oh what would the world be without lip gloss?

He shook his head as if you were minding what he was doing. “Yes and no? I love cities but I just kinda prefer something a little more peaceful. I’m very particular about my quiet and where I live it’s so peaceful. There’s a lake nearby, nice neighbors, nice community.” He hummed, “plus I spent so long with my home and renovations and essentially building it from the ground up that I’d die before I’d give it up.”

“Yes, I forgot you were an architect. You said...residential and urban design?” You said as best you could without getting gloss on your teeth.

Riki’s heart warmed at your attentiveness. “Aww…you remembered.” He brought your joined hands to his lips.

The gesture made you freeze for half a second, the brush of his mouth against your knuckles so casual yet deliberate it sent a little current through your chest. He didn’t make a show of it—just pressed the kiss like it was second nature, eyes still on the road, thumb smoothing over your skin like he’d done it a thousand times before.

“Don’t ‘aww’ me,” you finally managed, snapping the mirror closed and giving him a side-eye to hide the fact your pulse was going nuts. “It’s not like you’re forgettable.”

That earned you one of his sideways grins, slow and sharp like he knew exactly what kind of effect he had on you. “Careful. Keep talking like that and I’ll start to think you actually like me.”

You scoffed, tugging your hand but he only tightened his grip. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just remember things. I’m observant. And actually listen when people speak to me.”

He scoffed playfully, “yeah, yeah,” brushing you off with a smile. “Whatever you say,”

You smiled softly, “so…what made you wanna really move to the ‘burbs? Old age? Can’t keep up anymore…”

Riki laughed loudly. “Dude, you have one more time to joke about my age.”

You grinned wide, proud of yourself for getting that rise out of him. “What, I’m just saying…you’re like one more sweater from being a retired PTA dad.”

His laugh was so loud it bounced around the car, head shaking as he looked at you like you were ridiculous—but adorable anyway. “PTA dad? Really?”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” you shot back, eyebrows raised, lips tugging into a smirk. “Suburbs, lake house, dog named Blue… all you’re missing is the khaki shorts and Asics.”

“Oh my God.” He leaned against the headrest, groaning dramatically but smiling so big you caught it in the reflection of the window. “I am not buying dad shoes. Ever.”

You giggled, leaning back smugly. “We’ll see. It starts with the suburbs. Next thing you know you’re grilling in socks and sandals, calling the neighbors ‘buddy.’”

“I already do the buddy thing…” He sighs as he turns to head onto the highway exit.

“See?”

—

Pulling up to Riki’s house was something that put a bigger knot in your stomach than you'd like to admit. Something haunted your every thought before bed as you wondered and fantasized about the glamor and galore of what was to be behind or around his home. 

You expected glass, marble, ceramics, maybe even some technology here and there. But at least for the exterior you had some thoughts. 

A dramatic sixty-floor high-rise building where he had the penthouse and butlers and again, the glass, the marble. Maybe even the firm couches that just hurt your ass by just looking at them. And even somehow maybe it would be all gray and black. Not sure why you thought that, you just assumed every eligible bachelor would just go that route.

Or if not that, then some humongous mansion with a fountain in the driveway, a gate that needed a code, and enough empty space to echo when you coughed. You imagined chandeliers bigger than your bedroom and rooms so wide they felt like they were built for ghosts.

But pulling up to Riki’s place? It was…none of that.

The car rolled to a slow stop in front of a house that didn’t scream money but whispered it—subtle, tucked behind a row of trees that framed the driveway. It was large, yes, but not ostentatious. Classical stone with warm wood trimming, glass where it counted but not so much it felt like a fishbowl. You spotted planters by the steps—actual thriving greenery that someone clearly tended to, not just thrown there for aesthetic.

The porch light flicked on automatically, casting a glow across the driveway like the house was greeting him. Greeting you. It wasn’t a mansion. It wasn’t a skyscraper. It looked like a home.

Your lips parted before you could catch yourself. “Oh…” you breathed, leaning forward a little in your seat as if that would let you take in more. “This is…not what I pictured.”

Riki smirked as he parked, clearly amused by your awe. “What did you picture?”

You hesitated, embarrassed to admit it, but your face gave you away anyway.

“Penthouse?” he guessed. “Marble floors, glass walls, some ridiculous colorless bachelor pad with a sectional couch and a fridge that only has water bottles?”

You snapped your fingers, laughing. “Exactly that! Wait—do you have the fridge, though?”

He chuckled, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Of course I do. But I actually keep food in mine.”

Even the neighborhood itself was just as he said: peaceful. Nothing about this place exuded poor, that’s for sure. But it was humble, homely, and not kitschy at all. Without even meeting his neighbors you could tell that Riki fit in with them just fine. That they all worked within similar fields of public service. Teachers, doctors, physicians, dentists, surgeons, psychologists, architects, engineers. The people that live here are the people that do good. That matter. That the world can’t spin without and even then, you couldn’t blame Riki. This is the type of place people dream of retiring at. Where they have neighborhood watch groups, community pool hangouts, kids hanging out and playing in the street. Families and people here live in harmony and it only fueled more inside of you that you couldn’t believe you got lucky with Riki by this point.

He had opened your door and helped you out. Then grabbed your groceries as he fumbled his link of keys. He didn’t have many. Just the car key, home, maybe office, what you’d assume to be a key card/ID for his firm, then a cute key chain with a photo in it that you couldn’t see from here and never thought to mind. Most likely him and Blue. “Can’t wait to see what you make.”

You smiled, “I’m actually excited too, can you handle spice? I should’ve asked before. But I won’t make it—” You followed him up the porch as he clicked his car locked and already had his house key ready.

“I’m good with spice, it’s okay.” He pushed the door open with his shoulder and held it for you, letting you step in first. The moment you crossed the threshold, you froze—not because it was over the top, but because it was so…him.

Warm wood floors stretched through the entryway, and the first thing you noticed wasn’t furniture or fancy tech but the way the house smelled. Not sterile, not overly perfumed, but lived-in. A mix of pumpkin spice, laundry fresh, and faint dog. The kind of scent that told you someone cared about their space but didn’t obsess over making it look like a showroom.

To the left, you saw a built-in, recessed bookshelf that went from floor to the high ceiling, stacked not only with architecture journals but—much to your delight—comic books, random novels, and even a few cookbooks. A big potted plant stood proudly next to it, thriving like it was his favorite child.

The space was cozy but expansive, like when crafted this, he wanted space but not so much to where it’d make the home feel empty or like filler. The windows were just like the bookshelf—floor to ceiling and it truly did open home up. He must love natural light, as did you. Throw blankets on the couch, colors that fit the season of autumn: brown, gray, some hints of color but everything about this home was perfect. 

You couldn’t stop your mouth from curving into a slow smile as your eyes flicked around, cataloguing every little detail. It wasn’t some cold showroom house—it was layered, personal. It felt like Riki.

“This is…” you started, but words failed you, so you just turned to him with that wide-eyed look that made him chuckle under his breath.

He kicked his shoes off neatly by the door, balancing the grocery bags in one hand like it was second nature. “Not the marble-glass bachelor pad you imagined?”

“Not at all,” you admitted, stepping carefully onto the wood floors like you didn’t want to scuff them even though they were clearly meant to be lived on. “It’s—warm. Homey. Like, I could actually sit here and not feel like I’m messing up the aesthetic.”

“That’s kind of the point,” he said simply, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal that he’d curated a house that felt like…well, him.

You were about to ask him something else when a sharp click-clack of nails on wood echoed down the hallway. Before you could process, a blur of fur bounded toward you, tail wagging like a metronome gone haywire.

“Oh my god—” you gasped, dropping into a half crouch as Blue came skidding to a stop in front of you. A big, elegant dog—golden fur, big brown eyes, and open mouth that indicated what you hoped to be a smile. But you weren’t new to this—you stuck your hand out. Waiting for Blue to accept you before you scared him and reached over his head. 

You side-eyed Riki as he looked between you both expectantly. This was the moment of truth.

And before you knew it, you were nearly being taken down by an animal that didn’t know his size. “Oh hi, baby! Hi!” You cooed as you ruffled his fur and removed your shoes. Riki swiftly moved them to the rack as he watched you both.

Blue was in your lap at this point and you had to dodge his licks everywhere you could. But this only meant to him that you wanted to play, so where you stood up and ran further into the house, past the foyer. Which only gave Blue permission to chase after you—claws skidding across the wooden floor as he chased after you. 

“Hey, no playing in the house.” Riki groaned as he smothered a smile, bringing the groceries to the kitchen. Placing them on the island.

You darted around the couch, laughing so hard you could barely breathe, Blue hot on your heels like this was the best day of his life. “He started it!” you called back, half-yelp, half-giggle as the dog lunged for your arm with harmless excitement.

Riki leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold like some sitcom dad resigned to his fate. “Yeah, sure. That’s exactly what it looks like—you terrorizing my poor dog in his own house.”

“He’s fine!” you protested, finally letting Blue catch you. He barreled into your legs and nearly knocked you backward, tail wagging like a metronome on speed. You dropped to your knees, scratching his ears while he tried to crawl fully into your lap again. “See? He loves me.”

Riki shook his head, but there was a grin tugging at his mouth that he couldn’t hide. “Great. Two men in this house officially wrapped around your finger.”

You shot him a look over Blue’s furry shoulder. “Oh? Who’s the other one?”

Riki only raised a brow, not answering as he grabbed a bag of vegetables to start unloading, the picture of innocence.

Blue barked once, like he was in on the joke, and you gasped dramatically. “Blue knows! He totally knows.”

“Blue knows you’re a bad influence,” Riki shot back, but the way his lips curved, it didn’t sound like a complaint.

You kissed the dog’s head. “I didn’t know that golden retrievers were this nice.” Smiling, as Blue finally calmed down and trotted over to his owner. Nuzzling his leg as a greeting and sitting before him politely. Looking expectantly.

Riki’s brows furrowed incredulously. “Really? There’s like a whole archetype of men depicting their behavior.” Crouching to show Blue affection, he gently held his face and grazed his head with his thumbs. 

“Yeah but I always thought golden retrievers were racist.”

Riki froze mid-head pat, looking down at Blue with a frown, smooching his puppy’s head. “Fair. But don’t put that on him.”

You stood to your full height, “yeah, but I will say your dog has converted me.” Making your way to the other side of the first floor to where he was, right by the island. The weirdly tall island. “Why is this so high up?” You inquired, running your hand across the smooth marble countertop.

Riki also stood, “I’m six foot one, tall person requires tall surfaces. I wanna minimize my back issues the best I can for now.” He turned on the sink to wash his hands with hand soap, offering some to you as well to which you accepted it. 

“I forget you’re pushing thirty.” You nudged him, lathering the soap in your hands as you ensured to clean your wrists and fingernails. Doing stuff like this with him feels entirely too intimate. But in a comforting way, a way that almost feels like if you just tried hard enough that this could be your life. That the congenial lifestyle with the congenial home and the congenial dog and the congenial neighborhood could be something in your crystal ball. That wealth didn’t need diamonds or glitz, but community and comfort within four walls.

As your hands brushed his, it instantly felt like the water was burning. But you couldn’t pull away.

The older man noted your slight daze, eyes looking into the sink aimlessly and just turned off the faucet. Riki grabbed a hand-towel and gently dried your hands first, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Not rushed, not clinical, but careful—pressing the fabric between your fingers, brushing over your palms.

You swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close he was standing. The smell of his cologne mixed with the soap, the faint scrape of his rings against the towel, the way he didn’t look away from you even as he focused on his task. “I think you’d be happy to live to see my age.”

“My grandpa used to tell my mom that all the time. Now she says that to me whenever I call her old.” You smile softly, letting him toy with your hands as if you were a marionette. 

Riki huffed a small laugh, still drying between your fingers like it was some delicate ritual. “Smart man.”

You tilted your head, studying him. The way his lashes dipped as he focused on your hands, how his touch lingered longer than necessary, like he was memorizing the shape of you through skin and soap.

“Do you ever feel old?” you asked, half teasing, half genuine.

That made him pause. His eyes flicked up, catching yours—steady, unflinching. “Sometimes,” he admitted. “But not right now.”

The words hung between you, heavier than you expected. Your chest tightened, but before you could respond, Blue barked from the living room, like he couldn’t stand being left out.

You laughed softly, pulling your hands away before the moment could swallow you whole. “Guess he’s jealous.”

Riki smirked, tossing the towel onto the counter. “Can’t blame him. Want me to give you the tour?”

—

Riki’s home was just like him. Almost to a tee. Exactly like the man that owned it. Everything of his—just like him—had a reason for why it existed, where it was meant to go, its function. Like this home was created by a robot or some sort of genius. Which you’d hate to admit but…he is one. 

His home had many rooms but he brought you to his favorite ones, or just the part of the house he favored the most. His huge backyard was mainly just a play area for Blue, but also an entertainment area for guests when he would have them over. Seeing as the weather was cold, he had tucked most of the chairs and tables away in the shed, preserving it for spring and summertime. 

Then he had the second floor, with an open pathway to look over the living room to inspect the floor to ceiling windows. He stopped you, holding your shoulders gently. “I think this part is my favorite, during the day you can see the lake from here. It’s about a mile away but…if you squint then…” He shrugged, adjusting his frames and squinting as if the traditional chandelier wasn’t illuminating the glass. Making it hard to see out due to the darkness on the other side.

You leaned over the railing, squinting with him even though there was nothing to see but the reflection of the two of you in the glass. “Wow,” you deadpanned. “What a view. Truly breathtaking.”

Riki chuckled, his hands slipping from your shoulders but hovering like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull away completely. “You’re ruining the magic.”

“You’re ruining my eyesight.” You tapped the edge of his glasses with a grin. “You’re telling me you come up here just to squint at your own reflection?”

“Not just mine,” he shot back smoothly, his gaze sliding toward you in the glass.

You caught it, your pulse ticking up despite yourself. The chandelier light caught his profile, sharp and soft all at once, and for a second you hated how easy it was to imagine standing here with him years from now—same house, same view, only more familiar. “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Nishimura?”

He smiled shyly, biting his lip as he ran his free hand through his hair. “Is it working? I’m like…really trying here.”

Your laugh came out softer than you meant, almost betraying the butterflies turning your stomach upside down. “Points for honesty,” you teased, tilting your head so your reflection lined up next to his. “But you don’t really have to try that hard, you know.”

His eyes flicked from the glass to you, something unguarded flashing there before he covered it with a crooked grin. “Careful. Keep saying things like that and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

You let the silence brew between the both of you. Unknowingly looking at him with gentle eyes, you pursed your lips—doing your very best to not let him know that you were cracking. So, you shrugged teasingly. Sending a message of maybe or maybe not.

He’s still in his business-wear. Still wearing his white button-up and black slacks. But a few buttons were undone. His tie was loosened, his frames were still on the edge of his nose, and his pillowy lips were still as shiny and moisturized as ever.

And it almost took everything out of you. It really did, yeah…

Riki’s eyes gleaned, “oh my gosh…are you checking me out?!”

Your mouth dropped open, heat crawling up your neck. “Wha—no! Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, come on.” He angled his body toward you, smug but still soft around the edges, like he couldn’t quite hide how much he liked the idea. “You just stared at me for a solid thirty seconds. That wasn’t a ‘hmm, nice chandelier’ kind of look.”

You scoffed, refusing to meet his gaze, your eyes darting anywhere else—back to the windows, to the railing, hell, even to the chandelier itself. “Maybe I was just zoning out.”

Riki leaned in closer, voice dropping, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe you were imagining what it’d be like to kiss me.”

The audacity. Your pulse tripped, your tongue stumbled, and all you could manage was, “You wish.”

But the worst part—the absolute worst—was that his grin only widened, like you’d just confirmed it for him. He really did wish. And so did you.

—

You two were in the kitchen again. Now you were making the dinner you promised and as you took the chicken breast out of the fridge that he put away when you arrived—he sat down and asked. “Dude, these counters are like up to my neck, what the fuck.” You laughed softly. 

Riki sighed dramatically, “sorry, sorry.” He stood up with a grunt. “My geriatric ass counters…” Smiling as he walked to your side and feeling underneath the counter, ultimately letting the counter release an automatic, whirring noise—resulting in the counters slowly lowering. “Let me know when to stop,”

Your eyes bulge out of the sockets. “No way—that’s good—holy shit, I’ve never seen that before.”

He chuckles, eyes glinting with mischief as the counter descends. “Yeah, welcome to the future, sweetheart. I call it…premium ergonomics.”

You lean closer, pretending to inspect the mechanism. “I just think you’re Tony Stark. Can I be Jarvis?”

“Blue’s Jarvis, sorry.” He feigned a frown as he shrugged. “You can be Pepper, though. We can have cute little Iron babies or something.”

You stifle a laugh, trying laughing so hard you almost drop vegetables that you were handling. “Dude you’re not knocking me up with Iron-anything.”

Riki grins, leaning casually against the newly lowered counter. “No but think about it, they’d have a high likelihood of obtaining the sagacious mind from their father.” 

“So what I am, chopped liver? Am I literally just a vessel?”

He shook his head, “they’d have your cute nose. Your eyes…” Riki smiled brightly, “your gorgeous skin. Humor too.”

You blink at him, a little stunned, but the warmth spreading through your chest makes it hard to argue. “Wait—so I get all the charm and looks, and you get the brains?”

He laughs, tilting his head. “Nah, Pepper, we share the load. But your side is pretty indispensable.” He reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “And I’m not just saying that because it’s cute—you really are indispensable.”

“You’re such a skank.” You turn your head, mumbling as you try to talk yourself out of blushing. “All you do is flirt, Riki.”

The older man laughs at the playful insult. “Using ‘skank’ unironically is the only concern I have here.”

—

After some time, Riki and you fell into a calm rhythm. As you let the seasoned chicken cook alongside the peppers—you ensured that the pasta wasn’t overcooking. But you moved about very casually. Like you had done this a million times before. 

“Do you have some wine?” You ask absentmindedly as you check the boiling fettuccine. 

Riki stood, wanting to be of any service during this process, and opening the wine cooler to sift through red wine. His favorite and presenting it to you. “Here,”

You shook your head, “don’t need it. Have some.” You smiled gently as you looked at him. “Relax, haven’t you been working all day?”

“Yeah but I’m here with you. I think wine is always a fun little post-work endeavor.” 

You glanced at him over your shoulder, catching his gaze, and teased lightly, “Careful, I might start thinking you actually like me.”

He mimicked you. Staying silent as he shrugged his shoulders teasingly. 

You accepted it, nodding slowly. “Nice,” you switched off the stove. Signaling that the food was done. Smiling as you got a whiff of the jerk seasoning. “Mmm, God is good.” Shaking your head with a content sigh as you grabbed two bowls.

Riki carefully put the wine down at the kitchen table alongside some glasses. “So what did you decide to make?” You were surprised he didn’t ask sooner, but maybe he just wanted to keep the element of surprise. 

“Rasta pasta.” You hummed as you made his serving. Carefully using the tongs to gather the food to the bowl. 

Riki smiled, “smells delectable. Never had it before.” He leaned into you, acting as if he was trying to smell the food but was really trying to smell you. Bringing his face down to the bowl you held up but turning his head to your shoulder.

Your breath hitched the second his cologne mixed with the steam rising off the pasta. His lips brushed dangerously close to your shoulder, and you froze in place, tongs hovering midair.

“Riki,” you warned, trying to keep your voice steady, “are you seriously sniffing me right now?”

He pulled back, standing up straight as he adjusted his glasses with a shy smile. A mix of humor and embarrassment. “Sorry,”

You nudged him with your hip, “take your food.”

Riki chuckled softly, taking the bowl from your hands with a small bow of his head like he was receiving some sacred offering. “Yes, chef,” he teased, but his voice was low, still tinged with that sheepishness he couldn’t quite mask.

—

As the two of you set the table very casually, he grabbed both of your bowls and you a wine glass for him and some apple juice for you—you were finally ready to indulge. 

The lovely Blue trotted over to the table, sitting down and staring you right in your face with an open mouth as you placed the glasses down on the table. “Hi, boy. You didn’t think I forgot about you, huh?” You turned to Riki as he was just about to sit. “Do you feed him chicken?”

He nodded, “sometimes, not all the time. My boy’s very…picky.” He purses his lips, closing an eye like it was hard to say. 

Your eyes fell back to your now golden shadow. His claws scratched against the wooden floors as he edged closer to you. Like he fully understood you when you said the word ‘chicken.’

“May I give him some? I actually…” You smiled shyly, “I cooked some chicken separate from the one I made for us. So it wouldn’t hurt his tummy.” 

Riki froze halfway into his chair, blinking at you in disbelief. “...Wait. You made Blue his own chicken?”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but your smile betrayed you. “Yeah? I mean—I figured if I was cooking for you, I might as well cook for him too.”

Blue, as if sensing his moment of glory, sat up straighter, tail wagging so hard it thumped against the cabinet. His tongue lolled out, golden eyes wide with worship.

Riki leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a little laugh. “Wow. You know you’ve officially ruined me for all future guests, right? He’s never gonna let anyone else cook again.”

You grinned, sliding the small plate you’d hidden on the counter toward Blue like it was contraband. “Don’t worry, I think he and I already have an understanding.”

Blue barked once—sharp, excited, and so perfectly timed it made Riki burst into laughter. “Oh my god,” he said, running a hand down his face. “You’ve been here for two hours and he loves you more than me.”

—

As the evening kept on, you and Riki found yourself into easy conversation. 

“This was good, sweetheart. I didn’t think you were so good at cooking.” 

You leaned back into the seat as you finished the last of your food. “Okay, I’m not Gordon Ramsey or anything—”

He grabbed his wine glass and took a slow sip, eyes never leaving yours. “Give yourself some credit, cooking in general isn’t easy.” He shrugged as he placed his glass down gently. “Like me, I can’t cook. I can bake though.”

Your brows lifted, impressed as you pushed your empty bowl aside. “You bake?” A slow smile creeping onto your face as you leaned down slightly to gently pet the dog that laid at your feet. “Are you fucking with me?”

Riki shook his head with a small laugh. “Swear to God. I make a mean crème brûlée, brownies, blondies, tarts. The works.” He mirrored your actions and pushed his empty bowl away from him. But he didn’t get up to clean yet, simply not wanting to break the intimacy of the conversation. 

“What made you get into that?” You lifted your legs to hug them to your chest, toying with a loose thread on your jeans.

He tilted his head in thought, “not sure, really. But I’ve always been very good at math. Which…you know—obviously. Given my career and all but—” Laughing awkwardly as he rambled. “I don’t know…it sounds silly saying it aloud but with cooking it’s always a thing that’s up to taste and preference? Like some people find things too spicy, too salty, not enough of this or that. Juxtaposed to something akin to baking that leans to a more…exact process.” He spoke with his hands in reason. “Two eggs, one cup of flour, three tablespoons—you get me?”

Your lips curved, a little in awe, a little endeared. “That…actually makes so much sense. Like, of course you’d be into baking. Precision, structure, formulas—you get to control the outcome.”

He chuckled under his breath, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s very simple. Really if you just follow the instructions there’s no way to fuck it up.”

“I hope you know that you now owe me some sort of dessert.” You nod firmly.

He stood with a slight groan, his butt aching from sitting for so long. “I was expecting that.”

—

An hour passed.

—

You and Riki had migrated to the couch, him now taking reprieve from the businesswear that he had on before. Now in his loungewear, a very casual pair of sweats and long sleeve shirt to adhere to the cold weather. Though it was pretty warm inside, you didn’t want to judge him.

He was still nursing the same glass of wine from an hour ago. Being mindful as he was the one that would be driving you back home. But you two had fallen into benign conversation as you sat parallel to the other. Keeping an appropriate distance as Blue had rested on the floor by Riki’s feet. 

But something about this man felt so earnest. That despite the outwardly sharp and attractive appearance, he was not to be judged by just one thing. As if you just lusting over him would make you feel bad because he never led with sex or promiscuity throughout all of your interactions thus far. But sex always mattered to men. And you’d be stupid to think not.

“How many women have you slept with?” You asked suddenly amidst him talking about something pertaining to Blue’s pedigree—not that you were listening fully.

Riki froze mid-sip, wine glass hovering a fraction from his lips. His brows furrowed, just the tiniest crease forming between them. “Woah…where is this coming from?”

You rest your head on the plush couch, eyes lidded slightly from the comfort. “Curiosity.”

He takes a beat before answering. “I’ve had my fun.” He nodded, suppressing a smile as he pursed his lips. “I mean…I’m twenty-seven. Not saying virginity is lame but…” He finally smiled. “Let’s just say I had my fun when I was twenty-one, just like you when I was your age. But I’ve since…” His tongue pushed his cheek in thought. “Matured. The things that mattered to me then, just don’t anymore.”

You chuckled, “nice save.” You pushed his shoulder gently as you both shared a laugh.

“Did you want a number?”

“You told me without telling me. Basically saying that when you were in your prime, you used to—”

He waved his hands, “woah, woah, woah. I’d like to think I’m still in my prime.” Laughing as he scooted closer to you. “You make me seem like I’m decrepit. It kinda hurts my feelings a bit, you know?”

Your laughter died down, settling into a small smile. “I’m sorry, Riki. I don’t mean anything by it. Just pulling your leg.” 

He sighed dramatically, looking at the ceiling. “Old man is very hurt.”

“Young woman is very sorry,” You frown slightly, reaching out to hold his hand. You didn’t exactly know how to handle other people’s emotions. Especially his—or anyone else’s for that matter. “Are you actually upset?” You panic slightly.

Riki’s eyes widened when he realized you didn’t take his joke well. “Oh no no, baby, you’re good. I’m not mad at you.” He said gently as a small laugh followed it. Reaching to hold your hands. “I was just…pulling your leg this time.”

Your lips parted, relief flooding out in a breathy laugh as you smacked his arm lightly. “Riki! Don’t do that to me, I actually thought I hurt your feelings.”

He grinned sheepishly, squeezing your hand instead of letting go. “Even Steven.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, pursing your lips to—again—keep yourself from giving him the satisfaction of seeing you smile. 

He enjoyed the silence. It just gave him permission to stare at you without inhibitions. Which he hadn’t gotten much time or opportunity to do.

Everything about you seemed so jovial. His interactions with you were always pleasant and he enjoyed bantering with you. In some weird way, quality time and bantering were some forms of a love language of his and one thing he loved to do is just talk. Talking about everything. Talking about nothing. And the fun part about this is that he just met you and there was so much for him to get to know. He was already so into what he knew. So imagine all of the things he could know. Riki nods his head to the glass in his hand, “want some?”

Shaking your head, you glanced at the bit of red wine. “Nah, I’m good. I don’t drink.”

He smiled, “that’s fascinating. All I did at your age was drink.” 

You tilted your head, smirking as you tucked your knees closer to your chest. “How were your college years? Sounds like you were a dick.” 

Riki’s eyes were a bit puffy, a bit sleepy. Hair messy, like usual. Lips slightly more plump from sipping from the glass and licking the remnants off of them. His glasses were a little crooked too. He always seemed to be so effortlessly handsome and it was really starting to fuck with you. But he laughed as a result of your insult. “I was…” He hummed in thought.

“And be real with me. I don’t want any half answers.” You said firmly. “I let you slide the last time but you said you wanted to take me seriously. I expect the same from you, Riki.”

His laughter trailed off as he nodded, straightening up subconsciously. Placing his glass on the coffee table carefully, not wanting to let his droopy state impede him. “Okay…” His voice dropped, softer now. “Yeah, I was kind of a dick. Not in the…malicious way. I wasn’t out here trying to ruin lives or anything. But I was selfish. College me wanted instant gratification. Parties, girls, validation.” He scratched his jaw, gaze flicking away as if he didn’t really want to look at you while admitting it.

You stayed quiet, giving him the space to continue.

“I thought being wanted equaled being…worthy, I guess. It was easy to hide behind that. Easier than admitting I didn’t really know who I was or what I wanted yet.” His lips quirked into something like a self-deprecating smile. “So yeah, I hurt people. Probably left a trail of girls who think I’m exactly what you just called me.”

You nodded, brows pinched together—not in judgment. In thought, rather. “Do you think you’ve grown from that? Like…those insecurities and habits?” You leaned back against the couch, relief spread throughout your lower back as you crossed your arms over your chest. Your legs were just resting over the edge of the couch awkwardly. At a funny tilt. Which couldn’t have been comfortable. 

Riki hesitated, mildly fearful of touching you but he figured why not? He reached over to gently pull your legs to rest over his lap. Hands ghosting over your calves as he ensured the blood rushed through them so they wouldn’t fall asleep. “Good?”

The gesture caught you off guard, but in a way that softened something in your chest. You blinked at him, then down at where his hands lingered warm and feather-light against your calves.

“…Yeah. Good.” Your voice came out lower than you intended, almost hushed, like if you were too loud you’d break whatever strange spell had settled over the two of you.

Riki leaned back into the couch, finally relaxing as if the permission had been granted, his thumbs brushing absent circles against your jeans. His tone, though, stayed serious. “To answer your question…I think—despite how much I trust my own judgment—which is better than how it was before. I still struggle with the…validation aspect.” He tilted his body toward you as he nearly hugged your legs to him. You allowed it. 

“Is that anything you wanna talk about?” You ask gently, giving him the stage. Ample space and time to say what he felt he needed to. 

His eyes left yours, looking down and away. The silence simmered between the two of you as he tongued the inside of his cheek. And with a sigh, he looked at you finally. And shook his head without another word—eyes looking like you asking him for all of this alone was bringing every last thing back to him. As if his last twenty-seven years of life were like a highlight reel behind his eyes. 

The last thing you wanted was to push him. Nodding, you said. “Okay, that’s fine.”

“How about we talk about you?” He smiled as he rested his cheek on your knee. Absentmindedly running his hand down the side of your thigh. Sending his body heat plus extra warmth through to your stomach. And other places. “Why don’t you drink?”

Damn, you almost didn’t want to speak of this either. But somehow you just felt you wanted to. With him, he just seemed to have a knack for making you feel safe. Secure. “Well…my…alcoholism is sort of something that my family struggles with. Not all of them, and not so much to where it was an impudence on my parents or anything. But enough to where I’d absolutely hate it when my own sister drinks.” You sigh as you roll your eyes. “My grandfather was an alcoholic and my mom and uncle sort of had their issues with him. He sobered up eventually, he didn’t like the life he was living and became the man he needed to for our family. God rest his soul.” 

Riki listened in complete stillness, like every word you spoke was meant to be caught and held onto. His cheek stayed pressed to your knee, grounding you while his hand traced slow, careful paths along your thigh—steady, not invasive.

“I don’t smoke either. Literally everyone in my family does—either cigarettes or weed. Or both.” You stifled a painful laugh. “I hate the way it smells and for some reason it just repulses me. This isn’t judgment to anyone that does these things. It’s just…not for me. A lot of baggage.”

“That’s why I…wear this.” You nodded to your left hand—showing a promise ring. A gold, shiny band. “Just a reminder of my commitment.”

Riki’s eyes followed the way you lifted your hand, the gold band catching the dim light of the living room. His gaze softened instantly, something reverent slipping into his expression. He straightened a little, no longer resting against your knee, but he didn’t remove his hand from your thigh—it only stilled there, warm and steady.

“That’s…beautiful,” he said quietly, almost like he didn’t want to disturb the weight of the moment. “Not just the ring itself. The why behind it.” His thumb brushed against the denim of your jeans, thoughtful, gentle. “You made a promise to yourself, and you’ve honored it. Most people can’t even keep the promises they make to others.”

You smiled faintly, caught off guard by how earnestly he spoke. “It’s not always easy.”

“Nothing worth keeping ever is.” He tilted his head, eyes still fixed on the band. “I think that’s one of the most attractive things I’ve ever seen someone wear. Not because it’s gold, but because it’s conviction.”

There was a beat of silence, warm and thick. He finally looked up from your hand, meeting your eyes with a mix of admiration and—something else. Something heavier, almost unspoken.

“Can I ask…” he hesitated, careful not to press too hard, “…what made you decide to start? Like, was there a moment that pushed you into making that promise?”

You laughed, “honestly? I started wearing these when I was a kid. So around…ten? Eleven? My mom and eldest sister made me promise not to drink, smoke, or have premarital sex.”

He giggled—humming out the laugh. “So I assume the latter was hard to keep?”

“Yeah, I got my first boyfriend, turned eighteen and it was over.” You snorted, covering your hand with your mouth.

Riki chuckled, shaking his head as if amused by the audacity of youth. “No judgment here. I lost mine when I was like…” He looks up as if sifting through his memory. “Seventeen?”

Your brows lifted in curiosity. “How was it? I feel like it’s always different for guys than girls.”

He smiled softly at your question, blinking slowly as he hugged your legs closer—like a content cat. “It was good. Quick. But good. The girl I was with…she was my age but she had a little more experience than I did.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Showed me a few things. Other stuff I sort of picked up along the way.”

You smiled, anticipating where this conversation was going. 

“You?” He licked his lips, eyes still puffy as he turned his head. Pressing a gentle kiss to your knee. 

“I’ve never had good sex. Like…in my life.” You laugh painfully. “My first time was so painful. And so was almost every other time after that. My then boyfriend—the one I lost it to…bro was not good. Which I wasn’t expecting like—Johnny Sins level fucking but at least—”

Riki laughed, turning slightly red as the vibrato spread through your legs. 

You kept your laughter in as you continued. “No seriously, like I—needless to say, I’m a very quick learner and I feel like he was just not good. Like at all. Dude did not know what he was doing.” Your voice quivered as you laughed through your rant. 

Riki nodded slowly in understanding. “What made him so terrible?”

You threw your hand up in relent. “He just…Oh my gosh…” You covered your mouth, stifling a laugh. “I can’t believe we’re having the sex talk. This feels like talking to—”

“If you say brother or dad, I swear to God—” 

“No! No, no, no. Ew, that’s weird.” You chuckle, waving your hand. “I mean like I feel like I’m talking to a friend. Like this feels weirdly natural.” Gesturing between you two, you took into account his calm non-response. 

He just looked at you, grinning with his cheek mushed against your knee. Listening, taking in what you said. But somehow to the naked eye, it didn’t seem that way. He looked like every other person does when they’re in thought. Or maybe just when his mind is simply elsewhere. “I told you that you wouldn’t want anybody else.”

Your face heated up, stomach twisting a bit as you looked away from him. Smiling despite yourself. “Anyway…” Your smile remained as you pinched his cheek. “He was just very lackluster. There was passion, chemistry, it’s just that his technique was off. I genuinely think that my body was rejecting him in some ways. Like no matter what he did, it was almost like I felt…nothing.” Your smile faltered as you reminisced on the bizarre situation.

“Did he enjoy it? The sex, I mean?” He cleared his throat as he adjusted himself. Lifting off of your knee—you frowned a bit at the loss of contact. Not noticeably though, but his hands slid over your legs though. Keeping them warm despite the denim that covered them. 

“Yeah but that’s because guys are easy. Like learning how to give head was a breeze.” You waved your head. “Guys fuck anything I feel like.”

Riki laughed, shaking his head. “That’s true…but also rude. I have standards, thank you very much.” His hands flexed slightly against your legs. “Besides, if guys are so easy, maybe you just had the wrong one.”

“I think so too. Everyday if I’m being honest. Makes me wonder if doing that with him was a mistake, you know?” The humor ebbed a little, your tone softening as you sat with it. “Not because I didn’t care about him—at the time, in my heart, I felt I was in love. I really did. And I think that was what mattered then.” You shrugged lightly, smiling despite the ache in your chest. “But the way it ended? I regret every last bit of it. Just giving that part of myself to someone that couldn’t take care of my body and…didn’t even value his own was just…” You huff, “so…belittling? Demoralizing?”

Riki’s heart sank at your words. Seeing you go back to that part of you that you didn’t want to relive either. It was like looking into a prettier, younger, female mirror. The same highlight reel behind your eyes. “What happened?” He gulped. “What do you mean by that?”

On your end, like most people when they’re reliving some type of traumatic event—you laugh through the pain. “Okay so…” you cover your mouth as you try to stifle your laughter. “Don’t laugh.”

He shook his head. “I can almost bet money that this won’t be funny.”

“Will I get an advance on that too?”

He smiled despite himself, squeezing your sock clad foot as a warning. “Just tell me.”

“Ah!” You yelled dramatically, nudging his solid chest with your thigh. “Jerk.” You adjusted yourself too. “Fine, I’ll tell you. So…long story short, I went through his DM’s and saw that he was sending nudes to other girls. Unsolicited…”

Riki’s eyes widened, not dramatically so, but his head tilted and lips parted. He was shocked. Aghast to say the least. And slightly horrified. “How is this funny, sweetheart?”

“It’s not, I’m just traumatized and this is how I cope.” You pursed your lips to conceal a pained smile.

“So…he sent them—like just sent them to other girls? Did you know any of them like, were they classmates or something?” He leaned back against the back of the couch further, manspreading.

You shook your head. “Dozens of girls, none of which he or I knew. Just strangers online. I’m talking about photos, videos of himself like…it was bad.” You cringed a bit as you twisted your bracelets.

“I…I’m so sorry…” Riki frowned, looking at you with no humor. None. Just hurt. Not even your own mom was this pained when you told her this happened to you. “That’s so shitty. No one deserves that.”

And you almost couldn’t believe it. How he looked at you. With such expression, like if he could, he would take every last ounce of pain, confusion, betrayal, anger from your spirit. The same emotions that you’d been carrying for the last two years of your life. The same emotions you let yourself heal from. The ones that swore off men and told you that they’re capable of anything. 

They’re women’s apex predators. The very reason for the existence of war, epidemics, and every ‘phobia’ and ‘ism’ that has plagued the world and crippled it. The very reason that you can’t walk outside with your hair done a certain way. Why you watched hours of videos on self defense and what to do in situations where you would be considered a target. 

Men have done no good. Ever. They’re only good for bringing children into the world. But even then, you could go to a sperm bank and get that.

And it wasn’t even this fucked up ex situation that made you come to this realization. It’s simply most, if not all, of yours and other women’s problems have been at the hands of some man. They ruin lives. They poison. They lie, cheat, steal, prey, and abandon. They take advantage until you serve no use to them anymore and this was the very reason why you were on Riki’s couch. 

You knew just like he did that you wanted his money. You just thought it would be fine. Show up, talk softly, sell him a dream the way he would do you. Because this was just that, a fucking game to the both of you. He gives you the means, you curate a world just for him. 

But no, you’re laid back on his couch. Disarmed, vulnerable, shoes by the door and dog right below you. Giving him access to a part of you that did you no favors. He was just going to use it against you when he saw fit. 

Fuck, when you asked him if he wanted to talk to you about something—he denied you. In this moment, he knew more about you than you did him. 

He almost got you. And you almost slipped. But you couldn’t act out—because in reality, you didn’t know him. But he seemed to know you. 

“History.” You waved him off. “Hey, what time is it? It feels late.” Sitting up, you remove your legs from his lap and stand. Stretching as you scanned the room for your phone. Feeling the cushions with shaky breath. “I have class tomorrow, you know…?”

Riki sits up straight, eyes narrowing behind his frames like he just missed a step in this conversation. “Wait—what just happened?” His voice wasn’t slick, it wasn’t smooth. Just perplexed. Almost rattled. 

You didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. “Nothing. I just remembered I have class tomorrow.” Your phone buzzed by the grace of the universe, snug between the cushions.

Riki turned his head to his left as he could literally feel the device’s vibration. He felt for it too, reaching it before you did.

You gulped, feeling your pulse quicken. Stepping back like just being this close to him was going to burn you, realizing what you did and the position you put yourself in. You decided somehow that in a desperate search for money, you matched with a stranger on some sugar dating app. And you’ve been essentially playing like you’re in some relationship with this man for the last few hours and…you can’t believe you let yourself fall this deep for a man you met a week ago.

Riki handed you your phone like it could come alive. Slowly, measured. “Okay. Um…I can give you a ride home. If you’re comfortable with that. If not, I can always call an Uber for you.”

“No.” You shook your head with fervor. “I’m good. I’m just gonna…” You glance at the door. 

Riki stood to his height with panic, even sorrow behind his eyes. Worry. “Did I say something? Do something? I mean I…I thought things were going good. We had dinner and talked…” He stepped closer to you, Blue moving out of the way. Watching the scene with typical dog curiosity. “I was having fun. Please, if I freaked you out—”

“No. You…you were perfect.” Nodding assuredly, “nothing you said…or did was wrong. I just remembered I have an eight AM class and…” Breath shaking against your will—but you gathered it inconspicuously. “Forgot that I had some assignment due tonight that I only did half of.”

Riki tilted his head, ready to say something else but he pursed his lips. “Okay…” He nodded in acceptance. “Right. Um…” He wiped his eyes, taking his frames off as you slipped past him to the door. Slipping on your shoes easier than you any other time you put them on. He stood by the couch still. “We’ll text…or something?”

Your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Totally.”

He waved with a soft smile, already knowing where this was going. Riki wasn’t stupid. He saw the way you looked at him. Like he was something to fear, like he was the one that took your virginity and mistreated you. But while he was ready to blame him and any other man for leading this version of you to him. He couldn’t. “It was great to meet you.”

You froze at his words, the soft acknowledgement hanging in the air. But his gaze was the same, only warm-seeming. Calm-seeming. You didn’t know anymore, judgment impaired. “I…” You swallowed hard, searching for words that wouldn’t betray the swirl of panic in your stomach. “…I should go.”

He blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing his features before it smoothed back into that unreadable calm. “Right. Okay.” His voice was gentle, careful, but it carried the weight of…something unspoken.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Riki let out a slow, defeated breath. He sank back into the couch, the weight of the evening finally settling on him. Blue jumped lightly onto his lap, nudging Riki’s hand until he stroked his fur. He sensed it—Riki’s tension, his quiet heartbreak—and pressed against him like he could absorb it.

Riki rested his head back against the cushions, eyes tracing the dim lines of the room. What did I do wrong? he thought. Why is this always like this? Every time he thought something was going well, something slipped through his fingers. A laugh, a smile, a small moment of connection…gone before he could even hold it.

His hands flexed unconsciously in his lap, then fell still, resting atop Blue as if his warmth could fill the emptiness his owner carried. Loneliness was no stranger to him—it had been the constant undertone of his life—but tonight it hit sharper than ever. Seeing you leave, seeing the hesitation in your eyes, the subtle fear, it left a hollow ache in his chest he didn’t know how to fix.

He whispered to no one, voice barely audible over the soft rustle of Blue settling in. “Why does it always slip away? Why can’t I get it right?”

Blue let out a small, comforting whine and pressed his head against his chest. Riki closed his eyes, letting the dog’s simple, unjudging presence anchor him. Nothing felt worse than failing someone he genuinely cared for, failing a connection before it even had a chance.

The room was quiet, save for Blue’s gentle breathing and the faint hum of the heater. And there he sat, still, small bursts of sorrow coiling in his chest. He had wanted it to go differently. He had wanted her to feel safe, to stay, to trust him without hesitation. And now, he was left with just Blue and the echo of what almost was.

—

One week later

—

Riki deleted all of the apps he downloaded. But he couldn’t delete your number. For some reason, out of all of the failed endeavors he’s had over the last few…however long, this one hit him the hardest.

He’s been rejected all of his life. He’s faced the word ‘no’ more than he’d heard his own name. Which may be a bit of an exaggeration but still. Nothing that he had told you was a lie. He hardly had friends his own age. Always getting along better with adults. 

Being a kid and wanting to be friends with your peers and hearing ‘no’ made him want to be undeniable.

The same way that hearing ‘no’ from girls he liked made him want to be undeniable. 

Being seen as the weird kid that never hung out or wore cool clothes made him get a job to save for the clothes that all of the guys his age wanted.

Seeing his high school crush go for the buff athlete made him start caring about his own body a lot more. Riki had always been slim, very skinny. That was just who he was and how his metabolism was built. He ate as much as any other growing boy but the food just never stuck. So all he could do was build muscle to supplement how thin he was. 

Made him have the figure he did now. He was always tall—at least he had that. But being tall and fit was a cheat code. All he had to do was let his hair grow and he was golden.

By his senior year of high school, Riki was a magnet. All because he had spent the entire summer working on himself. Molding himself into the various personalities that he strived to be.

He was partying, drinking, skipping class, smoking weed, having sex. And it’s not like he wanted to do it, he just wanted so desperately to be seen and acknowledged by the people on his level. But after a while…it kind of got to be fun for him. His loving parents looked at him like he was a shell of who their once lovable, ingenious, respectful, and respectable son was. And they were right. Reminding him that high school was a four-year chapter in a hopefully long, exciting life. Not to place your bets on people that see you who you’re pretending to be. But rather who saw you when you weren’t. To not forget who Riki Nishimura was before he lost himself.

But it was “mom, before this I was nobody so…there’s really no risk in losing anything.”

Post graduation, he spent the entire summer before college alone.

So living it up in college the same way he did in high school didn’t seem horrible, right? Really, it was what made him the friends. The popularity. The ‘respect.’ But there, he was a dick. Childish. Stuck in high school. 

So he grew up, locked in and minded his future. The man he knew he could be. He stopped trying to fit in, stopped everything. Once he turned twenty-two, the things that used to matter to him just didn’t anymore. 

He got the career, worked his way up—but made great headway in such a short time due to his strengths and talent. Got his dream home, the cute little puppy. Now, all he felt he was missing was a partner. Someone to finally make him feel something other than the negative things. But he was at the point where he just wanted everything. Riki desired passion. Mainly someone passionate about him. Someone that looked at him and wanted him in totality. Not just halfway or what he could give them. Looking back, it was lost on him why he even signed up for that godforsaken sugar dating app. 

He couldn’t put his finger on it. Desperation? Most likely. Overcompensation? For sure. But why even do that knowing that the entire point was to give and receive? 

The two times you guys hung out felt like absolute magic for him. And it fucked with him when you left that night. It was the first time that he felt a genuine connection, even had explicit conversations about sex and not felt the need to escalate it. Because he likes you that much. 

He never put sex on the table because you didn’t. He was a gentleman. Polite. Even wondered if he totally misread the signs but you for sure seemed to like him back. Or was that paid for too?

But there was just something about how you didn’t take him seriously nor yourself. You laughed at everything, joked at nothing, and were just the right amount of mean. Which he needed.

You had done nothing but be honest with him. Only time you might’ve fibbed being right when you had to leave but he just chalked that up to nerves? You might have just been…

“Oh fuck.” Riki slumped forward, hitting his head on the steering wheel. Eliciting a beep from the horn right in the middle of midday traffic. “I scared her…I…Something I did…” He whispered to himself beneath whatever trendy pop song played on the radio. One he barely even knew because he’s a grown man with a career and hardly spends time on his phone. Wait, was this Britney Spears?

He checked the time on his dashboard and it read six-fourty-seven PM. You’d surely be out of class by now right? You hadn’t talked since that night, not even texting him that you made it home in one piece. He just hoped. And as morbid as it sounded, no one knocked on his door to ask him any questions. Which gave him some consolation. 

It wasn’t like traffic was moving anytime soon. With the way this was, it looked to be some sort of construction. At this point, he could just get off the highway exit if he needed to. But that wasn’t for another mile. 

So here he was, just one car in the sea of thousands on this fuckass highway with nothing but time. With that, Riki figured why not make a fool of himself possibly? At least he could marinate in it for some time as a punishment. He was a masochist if anything.  

With shaky hands, he reached on his infotainment screen and scrolled until he found your name. Closing one eye wearily before just ripping the bandaid off and calling you. Fuck, his stomach was in his ass. But after four rings, your voice filled his vehicle. 

“Hello?” 

He cleared his throat before opening his mouth. “Hi, um…I’m so sorry. I know you’re probably busy with…I don’t know—things you have to get done but I just wanted to check on you. See if you’re okay?” He pursed his lips. “It’s been a minute since we last spoke and I just wanted to give you some space.”

The other end was silent for a moment. “I’m good, Riki. Just doing me, school’s been getting busier. Midterms are coming up soon.”

He nodded, “that’s good—well not…good because exams suck but…I’m just happy you’re doing well.” He frowned slightly, hearing how distant your voice sounded. “Listen…I really wanna talk about last week.” He sighed. “I’m sorry if something I said or did might’ve scared you off but…I just want you to know that I care and I meant it when I said that I take you seriously. I just want you to be okay.”

The line was silent for a beat. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, sorry. Just…I don’t know what you want me to say to that, Riki.” 

He rested his elbow on the window frame. “I don’t—you don’t need to say anything you don’t want to. I just want you to know that whatever I did…or said…” His frown remained. “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean for any of it to put you off. I was just being myself and so were you.” He smiled softly, that you were letting him talk. Hearing him out. “I loved every minute that we’ve hung out and it’s only been like six hours combined. Which is insane to say but…” He cleared his throat. “I really wanna see this through. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to because I’m just calling you and whatnot.”

“...So what do you want from me?”

“I want…another date.” He nodded slowly, in thought. “I would like to take you out. Nothing as intimate as my house. But something fun…and public. Very public.”

“Public?”

“Why not?” He edged the car forward, the congestion loosening up. “I’ll plan it. Everything. We can be around a whole bunch of people. Or we can have fun some other way. Look…” He shrugged, “with the way you had me feeling, I don’t even care what we’re doing. I just want your time, my love. Let me do the rest.”

Silence.

The cars were starting to spread and scatter across the lanes. Riki quickly went into the lane that he needed to.

“Okay. But I’d prefer something public. Like you said.”

“You’ll get that.” He taps the steering wheel. “I just want you to know me. I don’t wanna put fear in your heart. For any reason. I care about you too much.”

The other line was silent before you blurted out: “Actually…I can’t go. Midterms are soon and I need every ounce of time to prepare for them.”

The car jerked forward somewhat as he hit the brake. “Oh…that’s fine too. I have work to get done as well. Maybe we can go to a cafe and—”

“No, no Riki. I’m sorry. I just…I don’t think us talking or doing this is a good idea anymore.” You sighed shakily. 

“I…” Riki tongued his cheek, doing his best to hold back tears of frustration. He was stuck in a horrific traffic jam. Hungry, he hasn’t eaten since twelve this afternoon. Tired as he’s been getting less and less sleep these last few months. And he has to hear another ‘no.’ He cleared his throat again as he felt a ball of fire in the pit of it. “I...I respect your decision but…I really think this could work I mean…Is there anything I can do to make you change your mind? Anything you need me to be?”

Silence again.

Riki huffs, leaning his head back on the headrest. Eyes closing as if keeping them open would burn them out of commission. He didn’t know what to do. Again, stuck in the confines of a sedan in a myriad of cars that differed from his shiny, jet black Audi. “Hel—”

The call ended suddenly and it took his heart right with it.

Opening his eyes just for tears to fall on his lap and skip past his face, he looked at the car right beside him to see an old couple. The man driving—skin wrinkled, weathered but light. Like he had seen better days but lived for the great ones. His deep brown skin and silver fro stood out in the very average car he sat in. And the woman he sat beside was even more radiant than he was. Her long, coily hair that flowed down her back had some streaks of silver. A glittering salt and pepper. But in the car, the both of them were singing obnoxiously to some song on the radio. Riki couldn’t make it out but he felt the vibrations of the vehicle in his. 

Nevermind that they were driving a common car. Nevermind that they were wearing simple clothing and way past their primes. They were happy, smiling—content and no matter how old they were—their youth supersedes all of it.

And here Riki was, young, rich, handsome but as lonely as the day he was born.

There was another road block.

—

In all honesty, you really did want to go out with him. However, your pride outweighed your fear in this case. The revelation that you had on his couch last week was solely out of fear. Nothing more, nothing less. 

But it was just the very compromised position that you were in. Late at night, in his beautiful home that felt like it was made just for the fall weather you were having. Both worn down from the hearty meal you shared, him—slightly buzzed from the wine he was drinking. You, lying down—laying yourself metaphorically bare about how odd your life was up until this point. Just really gauge the optics here, you’re talking to your sugar daddy—who really seems to want a girlfriend out of you and is six years your senior—about how your first and only boyfriend ever shit on you. 

Like weirdo after weirdo and you didn’t understand what it was about you that just attracted such men. The first was a happenstance, but the red flags were there, sure. But they were here too. The only thing that stood in the way was that Riki was a man. A grown ass man and he could give you more than your ex from way back then ever could. Which makes sense, it’d be silly to expect any sort of stability from a teenager. You were both kids. 

However, Riki really didn’t do anything out of line. He was a gentleman, patient, kind, and a joy to talk to. Something about him made you feel so calm. And you loved that feeling. 

The passionate, epic love was just so far beyond you at this juncture. You just wanted someone you could always feel sleepy around. Someone to sit with by the fire and talk about your days. Someone mature. Honest. Grown. Especially when you’d been expected to be such an adult from such a young age. 

Bizarre things like promising chastity prepubescently, then when you finally decided to do something that meant a lot to you, gave someone something you deemed as precious, just for them to take it, and throw it in the dirt. 

As much as you wanted to be a maneater, to ruin Riki’s life and run his pockets into nothing—you couldn’t. You would take any dollar he gave you, yes. But hurting his feelings? Letting him actually like you or show any sort of affection toward you, no. Absolutely not. You couldn’t stomach it.

And now, you’d rather let him do what some men denounce and others pride themselves. 

Chase. But you already shut him down. 

So you figured you’d meet him halfway.

—

The following morning, Riki gazed out onto the skyline from his office. Empty cups of coffee scattered around his desk as he sketched one of the blueprints needed for a local urban development. He could use CAD or BIM, as that’s most common but he was taught to draw by hand. That’s what he knew. If it’s not broken, don’t fix it.

He was taking a break at this moment, his ass hurting at this moment as he’s been glued to his chair for the last hour since he got here. Huffing and puffing as he grabbed the small trash can to gather the mess on his desk. Tossing scrapped sketches, the cups, the container that packed his breakfast to go in. By the time he was done, the phone on his desk rang. A loud, nearly ear splitting ring that didn’t necessarily help his migraine. The sharp ring rattled through his skull. He groaned, grabbing the receiver with one hand while pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. “Yeah, it’s Riki.”

His oh-so-lovely assistant, Sunoo, was on the other end. “Whatcha doin…?”

Sunoo was one of the very few close friends that he had told you he had. And one of the even fewer friends that he had in college that stuck around. “Nothing man, just cleaning up. My desk is a fucking mess right now.” He yawned, eyes watering as he sniffled. Wiping his eyes as he ran his hand through his hair.

“Yeah…I don’t think it’s just the desk that’s all over the place right now.” Sunoo remarked, sighing as he leaned into his own chair. Though Riki couldn’t see what was happening on the other line.

To put it plainly, Sunoo wouldn’t have this job if it weren’t for Riki. By the time Riki had graduated, he was put right to work in the firm. Sunoo was in between jobs as he had already graduated the year before. Him and Riki were close. So, why not help out a friend when he felt he could? Thus, Riki was allowed to include up to three people on his employee contract upon hiring, so Sunoo was his immediate pick—his executive assistant. That way, he was paid through the company and Riki’s own pockets wouldn’t be lined. Not that it bothered him anyway.

Riki leaned back in his chair, squinting at the ceiling like maybe the plaster would give him clarity. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means,” Sunoo shot back without missing a beat. “You’ve been walking around here like someone stole your puppy. Which is ironic, considering Blue is still alive and thriving.”

Riki let out a humorless laugh. “Cute.”

“What’s going on with you? The last week or so you’ve just been…blah.”

“Nothing—”

“Don’t say ‘nothing.’ Riks, you can be real with me. I’m your friend. The friend that literally wouldn’t be here without you and is forever indebted to you so…If I have to play in-house therapist then why would I ever turn you away?” Sunoo spoke patiently, softly but with spunk—like always. That was just him.

Riki frowned as he listened to his friend try to reach out to him. The prideful, dickhead part of him was ready to just deal with it on his own—but he had no pride in this moment. All of that went out the window years ago. “Okay…so—don’t judge me—but I met this girl on this dating app.”

Sunoo paused for a beat. “Okay…where’s the punchline? People meet on dating apps all the time. Now if it was on Grindr or something then I guess that would be a shock because you’re not—wait would it? I mean it’s not limited to—”

“No, fucknut—” Riki caught himself. “No, my beloved best friend ever and ever…I went on this sugar dating app—anonymously. That’s like the conditions of the app, everyone’s anonymous.”

“...A sugar dating app?” Sunoo repeated slowly, as if he needed to confirm he heard correctly.

Riki rubbed the back of his neck, heat crawling up despite his deadpan tone. “Yeah. Don’t make it weird.”

Sunoo burst out laughing. “Okay. And…?”

“Um…wow I didn’t realize how weird this sounds when I say it aloud but…” Riki scrunched his nose as he cringed slightly. “So I met this girl on the app and we linked up. Things were going good, she’s so…I don’t even know how to describe her because she’s so many things at once.”

Sunoo nodded despite Riki not being able to see him. “Okay…do your best then.”

Riki’s eyes narrowed in thought as he adjusted his glasses. “I…she’s funny, but so dry. Pragmatic but a bit…idealistic and I don’t think she realizes it. Beautiful, physically but…there’s just something so ugly inside of her that I can’t put my finger on.” His brows creased as he explained. “And we hung out, things went well. Then we linked up again a few days after. She came to the house—”

“She met Blue? Did he like her?”

“Loved her. He loved her.”

Sunoo whistled low. “Well damn. If Blue stamped her, that’s basically marriage approval. You know he growls at literally everyone else.”

“Just you,” Riki muttered, almost to himself. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the faint skyline through his office window. “That’s what made it worse. Because it wasn’t just me seeing something in her—he did too. And then…” His throat tightened. “And then she just—pulled away.”

Sunoo’s brows knit as he leaned forward in his own chair. “Pulled away how? Like ghosted you? Or like…stood up mid-hang-out and peaced out?”

Riki let out a humorless laugh. “Somewhere in between. One second we’re laughing, talking like we’ve known each other longer than a week, and then she just…shut down. Said she had class, an assignment due—something. I don’t know.” His voice cracked at the edge despite him trying to keep steady. “It was like I reminded her of someone she didn’t want to remember.” Which might be partially true. But Riki wasn’t going to divulge your personal details.

Sunoo stayed quiet for a beat before answering softly, “And you think it’s about you.”

Riki pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling harshly. “Doesn’t it always come back to me? Every time I think something’s going right—something good, finally—it slips.”

“How old is this girl you speak of?”

“She’s twenty-one.”

“Twe—Riki you’re twenty-seven.” Sunoo deadpanned, sitting up straighter in his chair. “You’re out here stressing yourself bald over someone who still gets student discounts at the movies?”

Riki rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he wanted to laugh. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s exactly like that.” Sunoo leaned back again, clicking his tongue. “Look, I’m not saying age gaps are evil or whatever, but bro—you built a whole career, bought a house, adopted a dog that hates everybody.” False. Blue just hates Sunoo. “She’s…probably still living on ramen and iced coffee.”

“I know that,” Riki muttered, frustrated. “I know all of that. But when I’m with her, it doesn’t feel like she’s twenty-one and I’m twenty-seven. It just feels…” He trailed off, searching for the word.

“Like you finally don’t feel lonely?” Sunoo supplied softly.

Riki froze, lips parting but no words coming out.

“Yeah,” Sunoo nodded knowingly, his voice calm but laced with concern. “Okay…well what else happened during that hangout?”

“She…” Riki rested the receiver on his shoulder, close enough where he could speak and hear. Then grabbed one of his million mechanical pencils to twirl in his finger. “So we were talking on the couch. I won’t lie, it was intimate. Light cuddling…I was drinking a bit of wine—”

“She wasn’t?”

“She said she doesn’t drink.”

Sunoo hummed. “So you’re tipsy, she’s sober. Already uneven footing.”

Riki’s jaw flexed. “I wasn’t wasted, just…relaxed. And she wasn’t uncomfortable. If she was, I would’ve noticed.”

“Would you though?” Sunoo asked, not unkind but sharp enough to make Riki pause mid-spin of his pencil. “You’re in your house, your space, your glass of wine in hand. She’s twenty-one, in her first sugar situation ever—”

“She never said that,” Riki cut in quickly.

“Did she have to?” Sunoo countered. “C’mon, Riki. I’m not saying you’re some creep. I know you. But can you really blame her for hitting eject when it started feeling real?”

Riki let out a long exhale, his pencil clattering to the desk. “No. But let me finish and you tell me if I was buggin’ out.”

“Mhm…”

“So…she starts sharing stuff about her past and whatnot. Then she asked me about things that I’ve gone through and I mentioned to her—vaguely—about my…issues with validation and people pleasing and whatnot.” He cleared his throat. “Then when I told her that I wasn’t comfortable with sharing the rest, she just let me slide. But then she started sharing more stuff about herself and I just let her talk—because I was genuinely interested. So as she told me something—like…mid-convo something just clicked for her. Next thing I knew she looked like she saw a ghost and was out my door.”

Sunoo paused for a moment. “Okay so…maybe that might’ve been it? She entrusted you with a lot of personal information and stuff. Then when it was your turn to divulge, you stayed silent? Granted you don’t have to say anything you don’t want to but maybe that might’ve been it.”

Riki’s brows furrowed still, “what do you mean?”

“I mean that…if you’re both making an effort to get to know each other and she’s saying everything she’s comfortable enough to say. And you’re withholding and giving vague answers, maybe mid-conversation, that dawned on her. That you were trying to play her.”

“I’m…still not following. I don’t have to say anything I don’t wanna say, Sunoo.”

Sunoo’s voice softened, but there was a sharp edge of honesty to it. “Yeah, you don’t. But think about it—she’s opening up. And when someone’s letting themselves be vulnerable, even a little, they’re trusting you. And when you hold back…even if it’s not a lie…she might read it wrong. She might think you’re hiding something. Or worse…that maybe one of these days, you’d use it against her. People do that, you know?”

Riki ran a hand through his hair, jaw tightening. “So…because I didn’t spill my entire life story in the first ten minutes…she bailed?”

“Not just that,” Sunoo said patiently. “She probably got overwhelmed. She thought you were different, real, someone she could…lean into. And then, bam—she senses walls. You can’t blame her for stepping back. But at the same time…don’t think it’s over. It doesn’t have to be.”

Riki stared at the ceiling, exhaling slowly. “I just…wish I could fix it. Make her see I’m not…like the others. That I actually care.”

Sunoo’s eyes bulged out of his skull. “There’s others?! Oh yeah, you should’ve led with that. She’s young, brokenhearted, and most likely has little to no emotional regulation and was with a man she hardly knew? You were better off—dude, even the bear looks good.”

“But—” He cut himself as he heard voices on the other end—in the background. And a little clatter, signalling that Sunoo probably put the phone down but didn’t hang up. 

“Is he in? I’m sorry I can just—”

“No, no, no, he’s not busy. He’s right down the hall. Just through those double doors at the end of the hall, sweetie.” 

Riki froze mid-exhale, the pencil still twirling between his fingers. The voice was unmistakable—soft, clipped, familiar, and somehow making his chest tighten in a way that hadn’t happened in years.

“Wait…” he whispered under his breath, eyes narrowing. His pulse kicked up a notch, a familiar mix of anticipation and dread flooding him. The world outside his office—the skyline, the traffic, the sketches—blurred into background noise.

Sunoo, still on the line, cleared his throat awkwardly. “Uh…Riki? Yeah so, there’s this girl that looks very twenty-one and will be at your door in t-minus thirty seconds. Gorgeous girl, you weren’t lying.”

“No way—she came—”

Knock, knock, knock.

“Bye.” Sunoo instantly cut the call and slammed the receiver down right where it was meant to be.  

Riki froze, the sound of the knock echoing in his ears like a drumbeat in an empty hall. His heart slammed against his ribs, every muscle tensing like he’d just been caught mid-dream.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. He swallowed hard, trying to calm the sudden tightness in his chest. The logical part of him told him to act normal, to not let a week of silence, of overthinking, of longing, show.

But the rest—the part that had spent days imagining this exact moment—had other plans.

He squared his shoulders, adjusted his glasses, and walked toward the door, each step echoing in the quiet hallway. His hand hovered over the knob, a brief pause to steady his racing thoughts.

Then, with a deep breath, he twisted the handle and opened it.

There you were. Eyes just as reluctant as his. But goodness were you beautiful. 

Funnily enough, you took a page out of his book and wore a knitted sweater. Though it wasn’t blue, yours was a dark green. One that complimented your brown complexion just right. Then your bootcut jeans and Doctor Martin’s brought everything together. 

So simple. So you. So kind. But he wouldn’t be surprised if his heart would be beneath the soles of those boots by the end of this conversation.

“Hi.”

The man was still stuck right where he was at—eyes still not believing what they were seeing. Lips parted slightly as he gulped, as if he could swallow the disbelief. But he couldn’t find the words.

“Earth to Mr. Nishimura?” You wave your hand in front of his face. 

Riki blinked, snapping out of his stupor. “Uh—yeah. Hi.” His voice came out rougher than intended, low and a little ragged, like he’d been holding it in for a week.

You raised an eyebrow, amused but careful, like you were testing how much of him was still there. “You okay? You look…flustered.”

He ran a hand through his hair, awkwardly chuckling. “Flustered? Me?...Yeah, I am.” Stepping aside to let you in, closing the door behind you. “How did you know where I worked?”

You turned your gaze to the skyline, then looked down to your boots. “Found it online…your LinkedIn profile was pretty honest.” Biting back a smile as you shifted your weight from foot to foot.

Riki’s head tilted as he laughed softly, “glad you enjoyed it.”

“I didn’t,” you shook your head with a small smile. “It felt like reading a manual on how to be successful and ignore feelings.” You paused, glancing at him cautiously. “Pretty impressive, though…not that I was paying too much attention.”

Riki leaned against his desk, exhaling slowly. “Yeah, that’s the plan—look competent, stay distant. Totally works…except apparently for some young lady who just showed up at my door.” He smirked, trying to mask the nervous tension creeping up his chest.

You crossed your arms, tilting your head. “And now what? You want me to see the office, critique your workspace, or are we just here to talk?”

He shrugged, sighing with a frown. “I don’t know. You came to me, baby.” He looked down at the desk for the bowl of the wrapped mints. Grabbing two—offering you one and taking one for himself. “I’m here for whatever you need me for. That was our deal. At least on my end.”

You took the mint and unwrapped it, letting the flavors hit your tongue. “I know…I just…wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“What’s been going on with you?” he asked carefully, trying to balance curiosity and caution. “Since…last week. You leaving suddenly, then the phone call…you said you didn’t wanna see me anymore.”

You hesitated, then looked him squarely in the eyes. “Honestly? I wanted to come see you. But I’m also…not great at admitting that.”

His eyes softened, glasses slipping down his nose. “Why?” He said gently, so quiet that you just barely missed it. “And I know—I realize that it’s been a lot of you answering and me asking and probing but…I’ve told you this already. I…I care.” Riki nodded. “And clearly you’re here, which means that some part of you is still interested.”

You bit your lip, looking down at your hands for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “I am…interested. I just—I don’t know how to do this without feeling like I’m giving too much…or getting hurt.”

Riki’s expression softened further, shoulders relaxing slightly. He leaned back against the surface, studying you like he wanted to memorize this exact moment. “Hey…that’s fair. I get it. And I don’t want you to feel rushed or cornered. We…we take this at your pace. Always your pace.” He leaned up off the desk to gesture to his chair for you to sit at. Which you did. “But, I really need to know what happened…? Like…I’d love to know what it was that I might’ve done to—because the way you looked at me was like I was an axe murderer and it just…it scared me to see you look so frightened.”

Okay, here goes nothing. You’ve been practicing your responses, coaching and guiding yourself for the inevitable and just like you meant to, you just had to be honest.

“I just felt very compromised at that moment. It was nothing you said. Or…well maybe it was something you did…” You sidetracked, mumbling to yourself.

He straightened up, “tell me. Please.” He nodded encouragingly.

“You were just not answering anything I asked. I didn’t demand you to but…you’re just so easy to talk to that I found myself getting lost in it. Then it hit me that…I’m telling this guy lore as far back as ten years ago and I’m getting half-answers when I ask you about things. Then it was just that I was on the couch, you were drinking, I hardly know you like—”

Riki gives you his full attention. “Hey…hey, slow down. I get it. You’re saying it felt…uneven? Like you were opening up and I wasn’t meeting you halfway?”

You nodded, words catching in your throat. “And it felt like you were going back on your word. You basically said that you’re a very…reciprocating type of person. That you take me seriously and would as long as I did. So…I’m kinda putting myself out there as I was just starting to like you and…you shut me down.” 

Oh my god…

You shut—

Riki’s eyes softened, a flicker of understanding passing over his face. He leaned back slightly, letting the memory sink in. “Oh…shit,” he whispered, almost to himself. “I didn’t even think…that’s exactly what happened—what the fuck.”

“But it wasn’t just that. When I was talking to you? About my ex, and I guess…it just stirred up old feelings of like I was going to be done wrong again.”

He shook his head slowly, “I wouldn’t do that to you—”

You laugh bitterly. “That’s what every guy says—”

“But I’m not every guy.” Riki kneeled in front of you to meet you at eye level. “Look, you don’t owe me anything. And technically all of this is my fault because I made it this way. I led with romance when it really didn’t have to be like this. So, I’m responsible for whatever it is that I make you feel—positive or negative. But please listen when I say that I can’t be punished for whoever did you wrong before. It’s unfair.”

He made sense, a lot of it. But you just weren’t trying to hear it. You didn’t want to hear any of it. At all. Not a piece or fraction or an entire pie of it. “Don’t think you’re so innocent, either.”

He leaned back, frowning as he gave you a onceover. “What?”

“Every single other girl that you shit on in the past, the ones that you half-told me about. Don’t you think they might be doing exactly what I’m doing? Punishing?”

Riki blinked, taken aback for a moment. Then he shook his head slowly, a rueful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Maybe…maybe some did. But you don’t know what you’re saying. You only know a part of it. Please don’t put words in my mouth.”

You narrowed your eyes, a little defensive now. “And that’s the exact issue. You know all of my past. I know bits and pieces of yours. So how do you expect me to know you or even trust any of the shit you say? You don’t leave me with anything, I have to fill in the blanks myself.”

“And I’m sorry.” He held your shoulders, “but I’m just not there yet and you need to respect that—”

“I do. I let you rock every time and didn’t say anything but I need to know who I’m dealing with. Because you preached that I wouldn’t want another man and that you basically wanted a girlfriend, but you’re not being transparent.”

“I’ll be transparent, that’s not the issue. I’m just saying that I’m a grown man. I don’t need to be punished by your shitty high school ex.”

“Age has nothing to do with it! Because you’re just as much of a creepy weirdo as him.”

Riki blinked, stunned by the accusation, his jaw tightening. “Creepy…weirdo? Really?” His voice was low, tense, but he wasn’t yelling. More like he was trying to process the sting. He stood to his full height. “Me not telling you something makes me a creep? Are you serious?”

“Riki, think. I’d expect for you to be at this age because most men that are financially stable are older and because of our…arrangement it makes sense. But if you had come up to me at a bar or somewhere other than where we met, I’d think you’d be a creep.”

Riki’s eyes widened slightly at your explanation. He hadn’t considered that the age difference might actually be a bigger deal to you than he thought. He nods slowly. “So you’re saying if I wasn’t paying you...you might have thought I was trying something weird or creepy because of our age gap?”

You just shrugged one shoulder, a slight smirk on your face. “All of you men are predators. And you’re sick. And will take anything where you can get it. Y’all are always calling girls easy but I’ve never met a man that says ‘no.’”

There it goes. That word again.

“So it’s up to me to take advantage of where I can get it. I wanted your money, Riki. You knew that. Yet you’re still trying to get me to fall for you. Why?”

Riki swallowed hard, his chest tightening, and he ran a hand down his face like he was trying to steady himself. But he shook his head. Hard. Like he could shake your words out of his head. 

“Why?” You probed. “Or are you gonna leave me to fill in the blanks again?”

“Stop it. You’re just upset, you’re only saying this because I—” His voice cracked, eyes misting and glasses fogging up.

“Because you called me out. Yeah. But aren’t I allowed to do the same thing?” You also stood, only about a foot away from him now. “You wanted to make me fall for you because I’m just a game. Just like every other girl.”

“You hardly had friends your age growing up, you said. You don’t have many friends now, you just want a connection wherever you can find it. So you find me, figure out my age and try to exert some sick knight in shining armor power play over me like it was gonna work.”

“That’s not true.”

“So what is?”

“I just wanted to prove that I could have something real.” His voice cracked. “Something organic, that even if I dangle money over someone’s head that…they’d still see me for me.”

You blinked, the words hitting harder than you expected. “Something real?” you echoed, your voice quieter now, almost incredulous. “And you think…throwing money into the mix makes it real?”

Riki ran a hand through his hair, shoulders sagging as if the weight of the conversation was physically pressing him down. “No…no, that’s not it. That was never it. I—I didn’t want this to be about money. I wanted to see you. Not a version of you that anyone could buy. I wanted…” He trailed off, swallowing, gaze dropping to the floor. “…I wanted something that mattered.”

“Well, I don’t want any of it. Not your money anymore and not you.”

“You’re lying,” he shook his head. “If you didn’t want either then you wouldn’t have come all this way just—you told me you wanted to see me. So which is it? And now you’re deflecting and insulting me because I just asked you to stop comparing me to someone that left your life what…two years ago?” He sniffled, wiping his eyes slightly. “Your words aren’t even the meanest thing about you.” 

Your expression faltered, heat rising to your cheeks as your chest tightened. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words tangled up in your throat. For a moment, you just stood there, caught between the truth you wanted to hide and the truth you had already revealed by showing up.

“And the craziest, most toxic part of this all is that I know you don’t mean it. You want me. I know you want me. You just need to be clear with me so I can show up for you the way you need me to. Because I’m willing, I’m for it.”

“I…don’t know what I want,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “All I know is that I don’t want to feel like I’m being played…like I’ll get hurt again. And right now…I don’t know if I can trust that won’t happen with you.” Crossing your arms, shrugging as you hugged yourself. As if to keep your heart from coming out of your chest.

Riki’s shoulders fell further, a deep exhale leaving him as he took a tentative step closer, keeping his gaze on you. “Tell me. Be honest with me. What did you feel when we met, when we hung out the second time, then now. What do you feel now?”

Your stomach twisted, almost feeling bile come up but you caught yourself. “When we met I felt…incredibly nervous. For obvious reasons but seeing you…I obviously thought you were attractive. Kind…sweet—a little dorky but I liked–like it.”

The taller man smiled sweetly, nodding for you to continue.

“Then when we hung out it sort of…it was the most intimate I’ve been with someone in life. And it sounds a little bizarre seeing as we’ve had weirdly extensive conversations about sex but…” You bit your lip to suppress a laugh, one that he returned. But his smile just softened a bit as did his eyes. “Cooking with you, seeing the innermost parts of you in your own home, meeting and playing with Blue. Then we just…relaxed on the couch and it was so…natural. So…natural and I hated that it was easy for me to fall into that with you. So quickly at that. It just scared me because I felt like you were like all the others. Love bombing and what not.”

“And now?” He nearly whispers. Looking at you hopefully.

“Now…I’m sorry. Very sorry for speaking to you that way. And deflecting, when literally everything that you said was one thousand percent true. When you’ve done nothing but be so patient with me because you see some type of potential in this—and I just…pushed you away.”

He nodded, “but for good reason. You were scared. While that isn’t an excuse and you were being mean…I can take it.” Riki laughs gently. “And…” His laugh simmers into the quiet of the office. “This is just about you and what you want. Who else will I give all of my money to?”

“Literally shut up, Riki.” You groan into your hands as you cover your face with them, laughing behind them.

“No, don’t hide.” He laughs again, this time a little more emboldened—he reached out to gently move your hands from your face as he held them close to his heart. “Who else will I take verbal beatings from? I’d rather you than Sunoo.”

“Who?”

“The guy you spoke to, to get in here? He doubles as my assistant and closest friend.” His smile hasn’t wavered.

“Oh he’s cute…” You turn your head back to the door to which Riki immediately turns your face back to his. Placing two fingers on your jaw as he steps closer to you—narrowing the gap between yourselves. “Aht-aht, I told you I don’t share.” He tuts, shaking his head slowly. 

Your breath hitched, eyes flicking down to where his fingers rested against your jaw, then back up to meet his. His tone was playful, teasing even, but his gaze burned with something deeper—something you felt all the way in your chest.

“You don’t share, huh?” you murmured, lips curving into a half-smile despite your pulse racing.

“Not even a little.” His voice was lower now, deliberate, like each word was meant to sink in. “Now, if you don’t mind…I’d like it if you took the time to consider giving me another chance. I know what you want. And hopefully you’ve gained a little more clarity.” He stepped back, releasing you completely.

You frowned, “why’d you let go?”

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t know…” His face scrunched a bit—there was a beat of silence. “I just figured touching someone in this way whilst they’re trying to make an important decision—especially as it pertains to me—might be a little…manipulative?” His voice veered off at the end. Like he was saying the sky was blue and grass was green—obviously. “I don’t…” He shook his head lightly, very perplexed. You crouched and groaned dramatically, head buried in your lap. Riki blinked at you, baffled. “What are you doing?”

“You’re so…ugh.” Your voice was muffled against your knees. “Why do you have to go and be…respectful at the exact moment I don’t want you to be?”

His lips twitched, fighting a smile. “You’re mad at me for…not being manipulative?”

You whipped your head up, glaring half-heartedly. “Yes! No—ugh, I don’t know. You’re confusing.”

He chuckled softly, leaning against the desk as he crossed his arms. “Welcome to my life. Try being in my head for a day.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I think I already am.”

“Then you know it’s a mess up there,” he teased, though the warmth in his gaze lingered. “But seriously. Take your time. You don’t owe me anything.”

The groan that ripped out of you was almost primal. “Stop being…perfectly imperfect in the exact way that makes it impossible to hate you!”

Riki grinned, tilting his head. “So, you admit it.”

Your jaw dropped. “Admit what?”

“That you don’t hate me.”

“…I despise you,” you muttered, looking away—though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you.

He laughed, a quiet, disbelieving sound, before shaking his head. “Sure…and I designed the Empire State Building.”

You frowned in confusion, “you did?”

Riki’s eyes widened in disbelief. Like he had seen Casper himself. “Oh you’re…” He scanned your face for any sign of jest—and none. Not a lick. “No–no baby, no…I was j—that was built, like, a century ago.”

“…Oh…I’m losing my mind.” You bury your head again and pull at your hair. Not enough to hurt, but maybe even enough to knock some sense back into yourself. Riki frowned and immediately crouched to guide you up. “Oh, my love, I know you are. You would’ve made some joke about how I would’ve still been born to see it built anyway.” He hugged you to his chest, resting his chin atop your head. Rubbing your back to soothe you.

“I’m slipping, Riki, and I blame you.”

“Fun fact,” he murmured, rocking you gently. “I had a hyperfixation with religious buildings as a kid. Specifically mosques. Like The Blue…Nasir al-Mulk. So much so that I used my Mom’s parchment paper—because I couldn’t get sketchbooks at the time—and drew them all by hand. Down to the most minute detail.” He pressed a kiss to your head. “Guess I’ve always been obsessed with impossible things.”

You blinked against his button-up, suddenly too aware of how steady his heartbeat felt beneath your ear. Of all the things you expected him to say, this—this quiet piece of his childhood—wasn’t it. No one else got this version of him, and somehow you knew it. The thought lodged in your chest, equal parts dangerous and grounding. “That’s so cute. Do you still have them?” You hugged him close, arms around his slim waist.

“Mhm,” he looked down at you. “But they’re framed at home. In my study.” Rubbing your arms to signal you to meet his gaze. “Seriously, though. It’s all up to you.”

“I’m sorry for being such an asshole…pushing you away and stuff. I’ve just never had a guy be nice to me.” You rested your chin on your chest. “And genuinely nice to the point where you’re willing to put your pride aside so soon.” 

Riki rested his hand on your cheek, letting you nuzzle into his large hand. “It’s a sin anyway.” He shrugged, smiling gently. “That’s literally the entire point of any relationship. I’ve learned that relinquishing pride is necessary for any bond to flourish. Especially if it’s romantic.” His thumb stroked your cheek—just barely did you feel it. “And while I understand you, I won’t and can’t enable you.”

“My pride did get in the way a bit but…me coming here was me putting it aside. You reached out to me and I needed to do the same for you. Reciprocation, remember? Like you said?” You found yourself sort of…submitting to Riki. Which is something that was far too foreign for you. With men, you always found yourself having to be the one to placate them. Which is vastly different from that of submission. But in this case, Riki could tell you what to do if he could tell you what to do. And he really could because that was just the type of man he was.

His forehead dipped toward yours, breath brushing your lips. “Mhm, I remember.” He pulled you closer, chest to chest. “Whatever you want to know about me—the boring stuff, the invasive stuff—I’ll tell you. No secrets. No half-assing.”

Your lips curved into a smile. “Then I won’t enable you either.” Slowly, you slid his glasses from his nose, slipping them onto your own. You squinted through the blur, then snorted. “God, you’re blind as a bat.”

Riki’s laugh cracked the air, low and warm. He leaned closer, brushing the edge of his thumb over your cheekbone. “Guess that makes two of us,” he murmured.

The joke should’ve passed like any of the others. But it didn’t. It lingered, heavy in the space between you, his eyes locked on yours with a softness that made your pulse stutter. Before you could second-guess it, his hand tilted your chin up. And you let him.

His mouth met yours—slow, unhurried, the kind of kiss that asked instead of took. The kind that felt like he’d been waiting, and waiting, and waiting…and now he finally had permission.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, steady and grounding, like he was reminding you without words: I’m not going anywhere.

His lips were soft, buttery. That every time that you saw them, plump and shiny wasn’t for show. And the way they moved against yours, slick and careful—applying just the right amount of pressure—made your knees buckle slightly. You’ve never been kissed with such confidence before. It had been over three years since you kissed somebody, and as much as you’d like to say it was like riding a bike—you almost felt your body lock up. 

Riki noticed instantly. He eased back a fraction, just enough so you could breathe, so you didn’t feel cornered. His thumb brushed along your jaw, grounding you, coaxing instead of demanding. “Hey,” he whispered against your lips, his breath warm. “Don’t overthink it. Just…kiss me baby. It’s okay.”

Something about the way he said it, low and steady, made your chest unclench. You exhaled, shaky, and pressed back into him—this time with intention. That was all he needed. His lips curved into a smile against yours before he deepened the kiss, slow and certain, like he was teaching you a language only the two of you would ever speak.

You leaned back, parting again as he mindlessly chased your lips. But you quickly removed his frames from your face. “Giving me a fucking headache.” Smiling as you tossed them onto the desk behind him. 

“You’re lucky I’m farsighted.” He picked you up by your thighs, much to your surprise as he spun you around and sat you on the edge of the desk, your back brushing against scattered papers and cool wood. The motion knocked the air out of you in a startled laugh, but before you could protest, his mouth was on yours again—kissing you with more fervor—but nothing too intense.

Your smile remained in the exchange as you wrapped your arms around his neck and legs around his hips. Finally letting go, just the way you could only do around him. The way that he let you fall into him so easily. 

And you let him.

—

Six months later

—

These last four months, you’ve been at Riki’s house way more than your own apartment. Which, I mean…anyone would be too! His home always felt more inviting than your own. With yours, it felt like you were just occupying the space. He begged to differ, he thought your struggle apartment was endearing. Which counted for something, sort of.

But seriously, if you weren’t hanging out with friends—you were with him. If you didn’t have any plans after class, you didn’t even miss a second. You were enroute to your man’s house. And given his work schedule, you found yourself alone only forty percent of the time which was perfect for you. You got the comfort of your new best friend and adopted son. You were able to focus on your assignments and enjoy the peace and quiet that came with the suburban life that Riki had so carefully picked for himself. 

Got to eat as you wanted, literally his house was your oyster.

But the last few days, Riki was out on a business trip—so the house was all yours for the time being. All he asked was you watch Blue and not die. You did your civil duty. And did it well.

So here you were, sat at the famous kitchen table with your laptop—chipping away at some lab work that needed to be done by the end of tomorrow night. Music playing at decent volume from the device as you alternated between typing and jotting things down. Type, scribble, type, scribble.

Lo and behold, the little scratching and padding across the wooden floors was Blue. Tongue out and tail wagging as he trotted over to you. Looking down, you smiled and lightly scratched behind his ear. “Hi, Baby Blue.”

The retriever whined, but did that little dog smile that you swore wasn’t a thing until you met him. But before you could speak further, he hopped up on your lap—because of course, he never knows his own size. “Oh!” You grunted out, “dude, you’re way too big to be doing all that.”

This dog did not care however and just sat down. Back facing you as he looked ahead, tongue still out. Seemingly indifferent and blocking your vision from your computer. “You’re such a brat,” you pouted as you hugged him, rubbing his back. “Wanna go outside?!” You perked up, smiling.

Blue perked his ears at your tone, whipping his head back to look at you with pure golden-retriever excitement. At the magic word, he immediately hopped off your lap, nails clicking against the hardwood as he dashed toward the back door.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you laughed, dragging yourself up from the chair and stretching. Your stomach growled, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten since lunch—but Blue’s puppy-dog eyes at the door were basically holding you hostage.

Grabbing his toys from the basket by the door, you muttered, “You’re lucky your dad’s not here to see how whipped I am for you.”

That thought pulled you up short, though. “Dad.” You snorted at yourself. The fact that Riki had weaseled his way so deep into your life that you casually referred to him as Blue’s dad was…well, embarrassing. Comforting, too. You slipped on your sneakers, shaking your head at the realization as you followed Blue out into the backyard.

After a few minutes of playing and fetching, your phone buzzed and buzzed. Never rang, you hated the sound of a ringtone. Your phone’s been on vibrate for the last ten years of your life.

Incoming call from Big Rik <33

You froze, ball still in hand as Blue trotted back expectantly. Your heart did a weird little skip—stupid, considering you’d been practically living at his house for months now. Still, his name lights up your screen like that…it makes your stomach do a flip every damn time.

“Hold on, scoundrel,” you muttered to Blue, tossing the frisbee half-heartedly before swiping to answer. You pressed the phone to your ear, trying not to sound too eager. “Hello?”

“Miss me yet?” His voice came through low and smug, but with that warm edge that made your knees feel like jelly.

You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see. “No. Blue’s keeping me plenty occupied. You’re kind of replaceable, actually.”

There was a beat of silence, then his soft laugh—rich, lazy, and the exact sound you didn’t know you’d been missing until now. “Shut up,” You shared a laugh before he asked, “what are you guys up to?”

Your smile remained as your laughter mellowed out. “Not much, I was doing some stuff for lab and Blue wanted to come outside so I couldn’t deny him. Figured he needed some exercise for the day.” Throwing his frisbee across the yard to catch.

Riki hummed on the other end, the sound deep and approving. “Good. Don’t let him get lazy while I’m gone. He starts acting like he runs the house if I’m not around to keep him in check.”

You snorted, watching Blue prance back with the frisbee, chest puffed out like he just won an Olympic medal. “Hate to break it to you, but he already runs the house. I swear he’s done some sort of spell—like I’m just compelled to do whatever he says. This is why I hate animals.”

That earned you another laugh, this one quieter, almost fond. “You sound happy,” he said suddenly, slipping the words in before you could fire back. Not teasing—just noticing.

The comment caught you off guard, hand faltering as you reached for the slobbery frisbee Blue shoved at your legs. “Do I?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “It’s nice. I like hearing you like that.”

“Well I am…thanks to you.” You smiled gently, pausing for a beat. Letting the sound of the spring breeze fill your ears. “I miss you, Riki. I feel I hardly get to see you.”

There was a stretch of silence on his end, the kind that made your chest ache because you knew he was smiling but holding it back. “Yeah?” he said finally, voice lower now. “You know I’d be there every second if I could.”

You frowned, throwing the frisbee again. “I know you would, but we’ve both been kinda busy, you know? Like…we’re both either at school or work. Then when you get off, you’re exhausted—I don’t know, it’s just…” You sighed. “While I like my freetime, I don’t like being away from you, you know?”

You and Riki have grown very close over the last few months. Confiding in one another is something that grew to be a means of keeping you two close. Aside from the times you two are apart, you spend as much time as you can together and not a minute is wasted. You shop—and he doesn’t complain. Go on walks—you would drive when it was cold out. Literally just sit and talk about your wildest dreams and the most random things. Laughing, crying, everything. 

It felt like he was your lover, friend, confidant, cheerleader, and personal bank all in one. 

Riki hummed softly, the line crackling with his quiet. “You don’t think I feel that too? Half the time I’m at work I’m staring at the clock, wishing I was with you. Even when I’m home, I catch myself reaching for my phone just to hear your voice.”

Your throat tightened, the frisbee slipping from your hand as Blue bounded past you. “Don’t say stuff like that unless you mean it.”

“I do mean it,” he said, no hesitation. “I miss you like crazy. It’s annoying, actually.”

You laughed, that knot in your chest easing. “Annoying, huh?”

“Yeah. Like—I’ll be doing nothing and suddenly I’m smiling like an idiot ‘cause you said something hours ago. Do you know how hard it is to keep my cool around my colleagues when I’m like that?”

Your heart was hammering now, and you were glad he couldn’t see the way your cheeks were burning.

Riki went quiet for a second, then softer: “You feel like home, you know that?”

The air rushed out of you, your lips parting. “…Riki.”

“I’m serious.” His voice had dropped, steady and warm. “Every time I leave, I just—can’t wait to come back.”

He said all of this, did all of these things, yet there was no label. No solid stamp on the envelope of your relationship. And Riki was the full package. Physically, he was tall, handsome—delectable even. Well-dressed, always smelled good, extremely clean. Cleaner than you at times, it sort of freaked you out. Personally, Riki was smart, the smartest person you knew—point blank. Just so wise, matter-of-fact, and intelligent in so many ways and it seemed like every time you were with him, you learned something new. He taught you so much but never in a way that made you feel stupid or less than. Riki was so gracious. The days you came to him with an attitude or some sort of edge in your tone, he never matched you. Just leveled you out. Kissed you when you wanted to be kissed, hugged when you wanted to be hugged; and never once did he make you feel bad for not wanting either. 

It made you want to ask, what are we doing? What am I to you? But your throat tightened around the words. Because what if he didn’t have an answer? What if asking was the very thing that ruined the ease you’d built together?

You called him your man. He called you his woman. But there was never an actual discussion of any sort of title. It weighed on you more than you’d like to admit.

You flung Blue’s frisbee across the yard, letting it fly over the fence and into the neighbor’s property. “Oh shit…” Cursing to yourself as you looked at Blue, who sat by the fence—head tilted in confusion.

“What happened, baby? Is everything okay?” Riki’s voice came through, laced with concern.

You huffed a laugh, dragging a hand down your face. “Your son is about to riot ‘cause I just sent his favorite toy over the fence.”

He chuckled softly. “Damn. That’s okay, I’ll just get a new one for him when I get back.”

You scoffed, “that’s stupid as fuck. I’ll just go ask for it back.”

“You’re really about to knock on somebody’s door over a slobbery frisbee?” he teased.

“Yes, because unlike you, I don’t have rich-man logic. Things cost money, Riki.”

His laugh rumbled through the line, warm and lazy. “Like three dollars,”

“I’m gonna clean his paws, then I’m going to get it.” You walked to the backdoor, opening it for the big golden retriever.

“Do you need me on the phone?” 

You grabbed Blue’s wipes and crouched to clean him. “For what?” You asked, scrubbing Blue’s paws as he squirmed like you were torturing him.

“So you don’t get kidnapped over a frisbee,” Riki deadpanned, though you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, grinning despite yourself. “Yeah, because suburban kidnappers are just lurking, waiting for me to ask politely for dog toys back.”

“Baby, you’d be surprised,” he said, snickering now. “I’d rather hear you annoyed on the phone than not hear from you at all.” The earnestness in his tone made your hand still on Blue’s paw. You shook it off with a laugh. “You’re so dramatic, Riki. You moved here.”

“Yeah, to keep you safe from all the suburban kidnappers,” he teased, but his voice had that undertone again—the one that he put on when it was Halloween and he spent nearly the entire day trying to spook you. “Where they snatch you up, then put you in a box and ship you right into my loving, caring arms.” 

You grunted as you stood up, “you’re a loser.” Going back through the back door so as not to track dirt in the house. “I’m gonna go grab it now, okay? I’ll call you later.”

“Mhm,” he said calmly. “Call me before bed, my love. Make sure you get your schoolwork done on time.” As doting as Riki was, he did a great job of keeping you in line. Ensuring that you did everything you needed to—and vice versa. But Riki was so disciplined that you never actually needed to remind him to do anything. He just always did.

“Of course. See you,”

“Later,”

You hung up.

You walked onto the porch of the neighbor. While you had seen some of the neighbors in the morning—which made sense. You’d be off to your morning classes as the kids would be off to school, parents and adults heading to their respective workplaces. Yet somehow, you never met this neighbor. 

The lawn was manicured perfectly as a result of the teen boys around the block that they’d paid to do it for them. 

Riki did his himself, which was always a fun little sight. 

However, the house looked like all the others so…nothing sketchy or weird. Thus, you rang the doorbell and waited patiently for someone to answer it. When they did, your eyes fell upon an older woman—could be in her seventies or so—which would make sense why you hardly saw her. She’s retired—must be. Her eyes were like chocolate—homely. Her skin was a gorgeous color of bronze as her curly, silver hair was brushed up into a ponytail. Then when she saw you, her eyes got brighter. “Hi, how are you?”

You could only smile back, face warm at how adorable she was. “Good evening, miss. I’m so sorry to bother you but my dog’s frisbee flew into your yard. I was hoping to get it back?”

The old lady pouted, brows furrowing a bit. “Your dog? I’ve never seen you around here before.”

“Oh, sorry,” you bowed your head with a small laugh. “I’m Riki’s—”

Her eyes brightened even more if it was possible. “Oh yes! Riki, the young man next door, right there?” She pointed to her left, where the house was. 

You nodded, “yes ma’am, there.”

“Oh I didn’t know he had a dog sitter. He should’ve told me so that I could’ve prepared something. I love to make sure he’s okay—him and his puppy. They’re both such sweethearts.” 

You didn’t know how to respond to that exactly. Dog sitter. 

Her bright smile settled into something gentler, thoughtful. “They really are, those two. I see him out there every morning, rain or shine, walking that dog. He’s a good one, that boy.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how warmly she spoke about him, like that was her own grandson. Which anyone could take to Riki—because she was right. He was a sweetheart. But it wasn’t that he was so beloved that threw you off.

“Anyway,” she clapped her hands once, pushing herself straighter. “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll go grab that frisbee for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

But she was already shuffling off, humming to herself, leaving you standing there with your heart knocking harder than it should’ve.

—

The day Riki got back was a fun one. You and Blue were laid on the couch, cuddling as you were enthralled in some old episode of Teen Wolf. The house was spotless as you ran out of things to do, so you just cleaned. So while Pine-Sol filled your nose and the spring breeze circulated throughout the house, you saw Blue’s head perk up. 

Turning to him, you rubbed his head. “What’s wrong, boy?” Blue ran off the couch and toward the front door—sitting patiently as he stared at it. Growls rumbling through his chest. 

You heard steps up the porch, maybe it was the mailman or something. But until you heard fiddling with keys at the door. Okay so no one besides you and Riki had a key to his house at the moment—but you heard whoever it was on the other side of the door struggling to open it.

Grunting in exasperation, you got up and jogged to the door—opening it without checking through the peephole. Lo and behold there was your best friend—bags in his hand and hair ruffled, slight eyes bags from a very long day. Looking at you with a self-deprecating smile. “Sorry, I almost forgot how to work my door. It’s—”

You cut him off with a hug, jumping into his arms. His bags thudded to the floor as he stumbled back a step but caught you easily, arms circling your waist like they’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“You’re home early,” you breathed into his shoulder, the words muffled but so full of relief you almost startled yourself.

His laugh rumbled low against your chest, warm and tired. “Miss me that bad, huh?”

You nuzzled your face in his shoulder, eyes closed as you never thought a week without him would be as hard as it was. The phrase ‘distance makes the heart grow fonder’ couldn’t be more true; fully resonating with you in a way that felt deeper than just you both being busy and having different schedules. 

Every moment that you two spent was much more precious. 

—

He was up late, working on one of the sketches and blueprints—the same one he’d be doing for weeks that he just couldn’t get through. He knew it was another urban development, but he couldn’t help but feel like there was no differentiation from the ones he’s done before. That when he’d present them to the higher-ups they’d like it. But he wasn’t satisfied—never. Or even when he’d try something new, they’d reject him. Saying it was too ambitious, too kitschy or impractical. Riki felt he had no freedom, which ultimately led him to his decision of starting his own firm—LLC pending. But today, the fire, the passion he’d otherwise be feeling for his career and lifelong dream just wasn’t there. 

You couldn’t sleep either, typical thoughts of a partial life crisis. Who were you? What were you here for? All of those silly little things. Looking to your right, closest to the door—Riki wasn’t next to you and you figured he was beating himself up trying to do literally anything behind that desk. So you got up, bonnet, bralette and pajama pants in tow—and padded over to his office down the hall. Last door on the left. You didn’t bother knocking.

He didn’t even look up. “Why aren’t you asleep, beautiful?” Eyes bugged, pencil in hand, his head held up by his free hand while it clutched his silky dark hair in it. 

“Because you aren’t,” you whispered, you smiled softly as you tiptoed over to him. But he leaned up and looked at you—eyes instantly softening at the sight of your cute attire. His arm comes out, inviting you to sit in his lap. An opportunity you seized. Sliding right into his lap and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “Working?”

“Yes, ma’am.” He leaned in, kissing your shoulder gently. “Some stuff for this new development. Few cities away.” Rubbing your thigh comfortably, he points to the sketches and scrap paper cluttering his desk. “I’m just stumped though. Drained. Tired. Not really feeling any of it.”

“Oh…poor baby.” You pout as you turn your attention back to him. Eyes meeting his as the moonlight casts a smidgen of light across his glasses. Holding his cheek, tilting his head back as you kissed his lips gently, lingering just long enough to make him sigh into it.

“You know,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to search his face, “even if you never drew another line, you’d still be the smartest, most brilliant man I’ve ever known.”

His eyes seemed to sparkle beneath his frames. “You think so?” Smiling softly as his hand stroked your collarbone—sending ripples of goosebumps through you. 

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “Shut up, I know so. Anyone can say what they want, but in that boardroom, at this desk, with this pencil, and even without it—you’re a visionary.”

He giggled, burying his face into your shoulder. “You’re so cheesy, my love.”

“I love cheese. Parmesan, cheddar—”

Riki squeezed you to his chest, blowing raspberries to your neck. “Shut up,” 

“Gruyère…” You massage his scalp, letting your acrylic nails give him comfort. “As a matter of fact, show me something.”

He teased, kissing your neck softly. His hand running down your back. “About cheese?”

“No, dingus.” You tilted your head down to kiss his forehead. “Take a break from this, and show me something about your job. Remind me of your passion because I really don’t know what the fuck you do.”

He drew back, face plagued with confusion. “What? My job funds your life and day-to-day and you don’t know—”

You wave your hand, “no, no—” your own laugh cuts you off. “I know what you do, I just…I was around to see it passively. Not to know what you really do.” 

“Okay, baby, let me show you what Papa Bear really does.” He spins you both around in the chair as he scoots forward to bring you two closer to the desk. 

“I’m so down, but don’t call yourself Papa Bear ever again.” 

—

Every moment you two spent was precious now—and as you clung to him, you remembered the last night you realized just how much you needed him. And loved having him around. “Mhm…I’ve missed you so much…Papa Bear.”

Riki squeezed you tighter as you wrapped your legs around him, leaning down—mildly squatting—to grab his bags and walk in the house with you on him like a koala. But he didn’t mind. He was beaming. “I knew you’d take up the name eventually.” Then, he crossed the threshold briskly, like you weighed nothing. “Hi, Baby Blue.” 

Blue whined a little, tongue out in excitement as he jumped up on his hind legs to greet his owner. Nails scratching against the floor like usual but of course, dogs have no concept of time. They just know that their person was gone—every moment without them felt the same. Whether it was a day, a week, a month—it all blurred and felt like forever. You never thought you’d ever relate to a golden retriever until now. “Don’t steal my name for him.” 

Riki placed you down gently, ensuring you landed on both feet. “Yeah, yeah.” Then, and only then was he able to really look at you. His smile softened a bit as he held your face in his hands. stroking your cheeks with his thumbs as he inspected you kindly. His eyes glazed over your features. Your skin, your eyes, how everytime you looked at him it was like the first day. “I missed you too, baby.” He says, voice rumbling lowly in the foyer. Pressing his lips onto yours before you can respond. Carefully cradling your face as both of your lips danced across the others. Riki ran his hands down your arms, rubbing them up and down when he reached your elbow. You traced his jaw into the kiss as he quietly moaned into the exchange before pulling back. “Before I eat you alive,” he smiled and yanked you to him playfully—eliciting a laugh from you. “I’m gonna shower first, okay?”

“Okay,” you nodded. “I made some spaghetti today. Want me to heat some up for you?” Peppering kisses on his jaw as you embraced him again, you sighed as you reveled in his warmth. Like the sun, he gave you that, plus energy. 

The only thing about the sun was that it was so perfectly placed. Everything about its positioning was beneficial for all life. All species. But its purpose was to warm, to light, to provide for everyone it touched. But really think of its wonders, if the sun is too far back, we die. If it’s too close, we die. To you, Riki was like the sun. Not in the regard of needing him to live—though he made that easy. But he was calm in his orbit. He gave and gave and gave, yet never expected anything in return aside from being his moon. That was the only condition. And when he smiled at you, your whole world tilted just to catch a glimpse. 

“Spaghetti sounds perfect,” he murmured against your temple, pulling away just enough to kiss you one last time before stepping back. “But I’m serious, baby. I need that shower before I do something reckless.”

You watched him pad toward the stairs, tugging at his shirt as if he couldn’t get it off fast enough. Your chest ached at the sight—at the thought of the space he was about to put between you, even just for twenty minutes.

“Don’t be long,” you called, your voice softer than you meant it to be.

He glanced over his shoulder with that boyish grin, the one that made your knees weak. “Not a chance.”

—

After the buzz died down, you got to thinking. Which has either been the contributor to your biggest feat or the cause for literally every last problem you have.

The other day bugged you. While you got to understand the older woman—you were young. You certainly look your age, though you’ve gotten younger from some people. But was it so unbelievable that you and Riki could be more? The ‘my dog’ thing was enough for her to maybe connect the dots, right? You remember exactly what you said. You said, ‘...my dog’s frisbee flew into your yard.’ Not saying that you were Blue’s real owner, but at this point, Riki did bestow the dog mom title unto you.

Were you delusional? Were you thinking entirely too deeply into this that you were psyching yourself out? Fuck other people and what they thought, they didn’t matter. But you could read between the lines. 

“What’s wrong?” Riki’s calm voice broke you out of your introspection as you both lied in his king-sized bed. “You’ve been quiet entirely too long and it’s worrying me…” He singsonged the last half of the sentence, tangling his legs with yours as he squeezed your waist. 

You exhaled slowly, staring at the ceiling. “Do people…not take us seriously?”

His brows furrowed, lips parting like he wasn’t sure he heard you right. “What do you mean?”

“The neighbor lady, the one next door with the blue house.” You admitted, finally turning to face him. “She thought I was just your dog sitter. And I guess I just—I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like to everyone else, I’m just…temporary. Like I’m here but not really yours.”

Riki smiled, letting out a small laugh. “Oh, Mrs. Bennett? Don’t mind her, she’s just an older lady, babe.” He shrugged, brushing it off—hoping to make you feel better.

“But…don’t you think there might be some sort of wisdom? Like what she’s saying might have some truth to it…” You fiddled with your tennis bracelets, circling the link with your fingerpads. 

The older man’s smile faltered as he felt his stomach drop. Not again. That doubt—your doubt. The one that was somehow always an overarching issue in your relationship. Earlier on, it sucked. But he got it. He understood. After thoroughly speaking about it in your pastimes, it was intense and the immediate attraction was scary—but he was better at looking at it head on. For what it was. He liked you but he felt he was pressuring you and laying too much on the table so soon. Which is exactly why you guys are moving at the pace you’ve been for the last six months. Which is why he says: “Truth…? Like…that you’re just some short-term thing?” He shakes his head in disbelief, bile nearly coming up in his throat. “Do I make you feel that way?”

You frowned, sitting up in the bed as you hugged your knees to your chest. “No…yes? N—ye—I don’t know, I…” Sighing, you buried your head in your lap. 

Riki leans up too, mirroring your distressed expression. Reaching to turn on the bedside lamp and feel for his glasses. Sliding them on and adjusting his vision to the light. Pupils focusing now as he looked at you. “What is it?” He said quietly as he switched off the TV. “You can talk to me…you know that.”

“It’s just…” you sighed as you lifted your head, eyes averting his—and he let you have it. In your mind, it was your shield. Not looking at him protected you in some way. “I wonder…about so many things and it’s not just what Mrs. Bennett said.” You took a minute to find your words—pausing for a beat. “I worry about me, you, our ages, our…relationship. And I try not to let it get to me and just enjoy the moment…enjoy you and the time we spend with each other.” You gesture between the both of you. “And it fucks me up because I feel like it’s always me having issues and stirring the pot, you know?”

He shrugs one shoulder, “I’ll spend as long as I have to reassure you then. You’re not asking for the world—and if you were I’d still find a way to give you that—but…you just want clarity. If I can shush those little nuisances in your head then I will. That’s no issue for me.”

“I just don’t want you wasting time on something that might not even go anywhere.” You shrug, shaking your head as tears form despite your effort to not cry.

Riki’s eyes widened, his lips parted just enough to really gauge the shock on his face. But he let you speak. 

“You’re this…big wig architect-investor person. You’re intelli—you’re a fucking genius. Good looking, a good person. You’ve accomplished so much and you’re only twenty-seven. I’m a…regular college student…and twenty-one. My biggest accomplishment is just making the Dean’s List and having good grades.”

He looks at you intently, his expression serious. “And you think all that makes me out of your league or something? That I’m too good for you?” His voice catches slightly at the end, again—showing how much this affects him. 

You leaned your back against the massive headboard. “You should want someone your age. On your level. A woman that can challenge you and give you the things I can’t.” As you look back down, the tears finally make their way as well. “This…connection isn’t sustainable.”

Riki’s face falls, and for the first time, he looks genuinely hurt. The vulnerability in his eyes is stark from the mask he usually puts on. “So what are you saying? That this…has an expiration date because you think I’m too old for you?”

“You’re twenty-seven,” you sigh, lip quivering as you still teeter with your bracelet. “You’re gonna want kids soon and I’ll still be in my early twenties.”

He stares at you, aghast and puts his hands up as to say flag on the play. “Woah. Woah woah woah. My love, who said anything about kids?”

You sniff, wiping at your face. “It’s math, Riki. You’re closer to thirty than I am to twenty-five. People think in timelines. I’m saying the obvious because you’re gonna want these things sooner. Whether you say it aloud or not, it’s subconscious.”

He laughed, not loudly, but in disbelief. “So you’re a mind reader now?” Throwing his hands up in confusion.

“The big ass house with multiple rooms, huge yard space…the golden retriever—that’s literally a fucking family dog. Living in a neighborhood with a bunch of other families. Riki…all you’re waiting for is the perfect woman.”

Again, he combats you. “And what if I feel that’s you?”

You get out of the bed, heading to the door as you make the left down the hallway—to the stairs. “It’s not…I’m not. And I won’t be.”

His expression turns serious, firm but not menacing as he follows behind you. “So…let me get this straight…you’re breaking up with me because you think our relationship has no future? Because you’re scared I’ll outgrow you or want more than you can give?” You don’t give him an answer but keep walking forward. Somehow this hallway seems way longer than normal. “C’mere.” 

You shake your head. “No, Riki.” And just as you reach the top of the banister he gently grabs your hand, effectively stopping you. His expression was fearful but…worked up. This is the first time you’ve seen this man be upset in a way that falls on the spectrum of anger. He swallows hard, his voice lower and slower. “You know what your problem is?”

You brace yourself for his words—hoping they’re not harsh. They never are but you’re afraid of being reminded that Riki is just another man—for real this time. “Tell me.”

“You’re so fucking scared of the future that you’re pushing away the best thing that could ever happen to you.” His voice cracks slightly. “You’re leaving me before you think I could leave you because you’re terrified to believe it might last.” He steps closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. 

“When I look at you…I see a…radiant, intelligent, charming, amazing woman who’s too fucking scared to let someone love her.” His jaw clenches. “I see a woman who’s so fucked up and damaged that she can’t believe someone actually wants her.” His eyes mist as he steps back, letting your hand go. You hadn’t realized he was still holding it. “So go ahead, push me away. Tell me I’m too old, too much for you. But know this…” He tilts his head and looks up at the ceiling to control his tears. “I loved every single second with you. Every last one. And even before all of this—the moment I saw you—I knew in my heart that you were it for me. We had those issues the first two weeks but…” His chest convulses a bit, sobs emitting as you stare at him in shock. Silently crying yourself. 

“I was patient. I waited. And I fought. I fought for you because I knew—you think I’m lying? I told you in my car on our first date that I. Trust. My. Instincts.” He said firmly as he poked his own chest. “I knew. And I trusted that eventually you’d know too and I’m sorry for putting so much on you so soon. I’m so sorry for that—you didn’t need that and I’m trying to fix it. But…” he sniffled as he wiped his eyes again. “Please…my heart can’t take any more. It’s…it hurts.” His voice gives. “But at this point…I’d rather have my heart ripped out of my chest by you than never have had you at all.” Riki chokes out, voice breaking so loud it sounds like it might crack the wood banister. He swallows, cheeks wet, and for a second he looks like the kid who learned to build forts out of shoeboxes and then watched them get knocked down—except now the fort is his whole heart and you’re standing at the top of the stairs—holding one of the boxes he used to build it.

The world tilts. You weren’t expecting this—the raw thing, the shame-free sobbing, the man who usually keeps everything measured becoming unmade in front of you. Guilt and something softer and prickle-y squeeze through your chest.

“Riki, I’m sorry. I don’t wanna be like this. You think that I dream about making your days difficult when all I’ve ever wanted was to have good ones with you?! But I’m stuck in this limbo of—” You sob out, holding yourself and rubbing your arms to self soothe.

“What? Limbo of what?! I’ve been nothing but straight with you, baby.”

“That I don’t know what we are!”

Riki’s puffy eyes narrowed, leaning forward like he was wondering if you shapeshifted into someone else. Like he didn’t know who he was speaking to. “You have a key to my home, you—you spent days here. I can’t even remember the last time you were at your own apartment. I call you Blue’s Mom. My love, what type of lim—”

You sniffled, just letting the tears fall at this juncture, not even caring to wipe them if they were just going to keep coming out. “All it’s ever been was ‘relationship’ or ‘connection,’ you know? You treat me like a fucking wife without having ever claimed me, Riki!”

“Because I thought you knew! I thought—I call you my woman. You call me your man. I thought that was—” Riki scrambles for words, throat tight. “—what mattered. I didn’t realize that words weren’t enough for you. I thought showing up was the language.”

You hiccup, angry at the hurt and embarrassed you caused, and softer because Jesus, he’s actually hurting. “Showing up is great, Riki. It’s everything. But I need the part where people outside of this room know too.” 

“I don’t even know a lot of people,” he laughed incredulously through his tears. “Baby you’re my woman. My girlfriend. We’re together and still, even when you’re pissing me off—I just want you to be happy. Our future…is something we can plan for now but you’re just assuming things—saying things that you think I want without ever running them by me! Plus, it’s only been six months. I have plans for my future, yes because I’m me, but you’d be silly to think that I haven’t pictured you in them.” Riki’s tears dried, sticking to his face as the moonlight from the floor to ceiling windows illuminated his features. He raised his hands, framing your face. “I think we’re a lot more aligned than you think. We just haven’t spoken about it yet because we haven’t gone there yet.”

Your breathing mellows out as the hot, salty liquid still comes down in buckets. “Do you want kids?”

He shrugs as he drops his hands back to his side, “I wish children well.” You let out a wet laugh at his flippant response, holding your head despite yourself.

“Seriously…I’m in no rush for them. And say you want kids by thirty, I’ll be thirty-seven and that also doesn’t bother me.” He looks around, shaking his head slightly before looking back at you. “If you love someone, you’re willing to wait. I don’t care as long as I’m with you.”

For a beat the world narrows to the two of you—the banister, the moonlight, the wet stripe down his cheek. You can hear your heart like a dumb cartoon drumline and for once the thing in your chest that always talks you out of everything is nothing but static.

You want to make some clever joke, deflect with sarcasm, call him a liar, make him prove it. Instead, your mouth opens and the first thing that comes out is small and ridiculous and absolutely, completely true.

“You—what did you just say?” you whisper, because the enormity of it has to be tasted twice.

“I said I love you, baby,” he repeats, voice raw and steady on the second pass. “Fuck. I’m in love with you.”

You feel like someone just handed you a match in the dark and you’re not sure whether to burn the map or build a fire. Fear flickers—he’s said big things before and people mean different things by them—but the way he looks at you now, all cracked vulnerability and earnestness, pushes something in you to the surface.

“And you were right with the house thing, that I got this just so the perfect woman would come along but…she did.” He whispered, holding his heart as he looked at you—moonlight glistening in his eyes. “You might not think I do but I listen. You’ve wanted stability that guys your age can’t give you. A mature, grown, adult love. I can give you that. I’ve always wanted someone to choose me. And I hate to admit it because it sounds pathetic as fuck and I hate to have you hear this because I don’t want to guilt trip you but I need you to know.” His breath is labored again. “I’ve never been anyone’s first choice. I’ve longed for connection and for someone to love me the way I could love them back. And you did…” He blubbered, “you did, baby, you did. And I’ve done everything in my power to control everything in my life because it’s easier than admitting that I just wanna be chosen. Earnestly.”

You slow, because his words are big and soft and stupid and perfect all at once. Your chest tightens like an overstretched spring—the part of you that has been braced for disappointment all your life wants to curl up and hide, but another part—a small, reckless part you don’t get to indulge often—wants to throw itself at him and stop thinking. “I do. I choose you. But I—” He opened his mouth to say something but you shook your head. “I wanna be with you and I’m sorry because I feel like I don’t tell you that but…” You lick your lips of the salty tears. “Riki, I really fucking love you. Like...adore you.” You roll your eyes.

“Gosh, I adore you.” You sniffle. “And you’re so kind and honest and sweet and gentle and warm that being with you feels like home. You’re such a fucking loser and a nerd when you yap about your job and the geek comes out. It’s so fucking cute and I hate it. I love how you’re such a role model for me. I love that you push me to explore other avenues and lanes and support me. I love who I am with you. and I...love you. So much, you don’t understand. and I hate that I'm crying and making this fuss because I’m so attached to you and you make me feel so many things that I can’t handle.”

“I can’t handle it and it scares the shit out of me. How I love your dog. I love your house. I love how you make my life easier. I just love you. And I hate when I don’t treat you accordingly. You do everything to make sure I’m okay even at your own expense. You’re…so selfless and…” Tears fall over your eyes. “You’re just...the kindest, most beautiful and genuine person I’ve known in my life. I don’t ever want you to not know how utterly crazy I am about you.” You rest your hands on his biceps. “And I know when I’m done with this, you’re just gonna find a way to make me feel better still because that’s just you.” You shrug a shoulder. “So I choose you. I love you. I’m tired of running, baby. You got me. You won.”

The words hang between you, bright and vulnerable, and for a second the world is nothing but the two of you and the thin sliver of moonlight on the banister. Riki lets out a sound that’s part laugh, part sob, and it breaks something open in him. He reaches for you like he’s been given permission to breathe again.

He sweeps you up—no hesitation, like an instinct—and holds you to his chest so tight you can feel the steady thud of his heartbeat against your face. “You have no idea what that does to me,” he murmurs into your hair, voice raw and small. “You have no idea.” His thumb strokes the back of your head in a slow, steady circle. “God, I love you.”

You hiccup a laugh between tears, arms locked around his waist. “I love you too, Papa Bear.”

For a moment, neither of you move. His chest rises and falls against yours like he’s afraid the air might shatter what just happened. Then his hands—still trembling—come up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing away the tears he’s caused and healed in the same night.

When he kisses you, it isn’t hungry. It’s steady. Patient. Like he’s been waiting for permission and finally got it. You melt because there’s no question left in it, no limbo—just Riki.

—

You forget how much Riki actually knew about you. How much he listened and minded everything you said. And it wasn’t until now, that you were in his bed that you were reminded of it. As well as how much of a grown man he was. 

The two of you kissed ferociously beneath the covers of his bed. The warmth from both of your bodies and the bed only igniting other parts of you. Or in you, rather. 

As your tongues danced with each other, you grabbed his hair, sliding your hands between his shiny, strong locks. Tugging them slightly, eliciting a whimper from him. “Fuck…”

Sex was never…not on the table between you. Something you both thought about but never brought up. Simply fearing that there just might’ve not been a right time. But there never was. Riki broke the kiss, panting as he smiled—biting his lip as he stared down at you. He settled between your legs and moved his hands up and down your stomach and chest. “You’re so pretty…” His hands hadn’t let up off your skin. They moved down to your thighs instead. “Do you just…” He shrugs with a joking, yet self-deprecating smile, throwing a hand up in curiosity. “Wanna have sex or something?” Waving his hand like it wasn’t a big deal. Like he didn’t propose a monumental step in your relationship.

“Bro…” you cover your face to smother your laughter. Wheezing slightly at how awkward of an ask that was. But somehow, his straightforwardness and faux facetious manner turned you on more than you’d like to admit. “You know what? Hell yeah.” You tried to pull him back down gently but he resisted. 

“Okay, sounds great.” He snorted, his smile widening as he moved your hands to his lips. Peppering kisses along your fingers and palms, you giggled yourself—enjoying how playful he was being. Though this was short-lived.

Eye contact still as steady as ever, he wrapped his warm, wet tongue around your right middle and ring fingers. Your laughter died in your throat the second his tongue dragged over your fingers, slow and deliberate. He kept eye contact like he was daring you to say something, to break first. “Still funny?” he mumbled around your fingers, voice dropping. You swallowed hard, the warmth between your legs answering before you could. He moved your other hand to your core—guiding you to palm yourself through your shorts. You gasped, feeling your body give to him—fully; in totality, not just halfway or with fear behind it. But you couldn’t speak, you physically couldn’t the harder he sucked. So you shook your head. That was all you could give him right now. 

He let your fingers go with a wet pop, “gonna show you how a real man fucks—a grown one.” He leans down to remove your shirt and shorts, so quickly that you blinked and they were nowhere to be seen. “I can’t wait to make you cum on my dick, mama,” He whimpers desperately as he grinds his clothed cock against the thin fabric of your cotton underwear. Holding himself up on one hand that was rested by your head. Sending chills through your body, you both shudder at the friction. Neither of you have felt any sort of touch for entirely too long. Your hands reach down to pull his tank top over his head. He followed through and even slid his sweatpants off. 

As soon as you looked down, your eyes bulged out of their sockets. “What the fuck…”

Riki feigned innocence, mocking you. “What happened?”

His cock was engorged, which you expected and…hoped but…Riki was, like, comically large. And despite his black briefs, his print was extremely visible in this dark room. Though the cherry on top was his tip sticking out of the top of his waistband.

Your eyes shot back up to his face, and he was smirking—of course he was—but there was a flicker underneath it, something softer, nervous even. His thumb dragged slowly over the swollen head where it peeked out, like he was showing you proof. “Why you look so scared, mama?” he taunted, voice low and husky, “thought you wanted a grown man.”

You swallowed, heat rushing down your spine. “That’s not a man, that’s a…a flight risk.” He laughed, but it was shaky, and when he leaned closer, his lips brushed your ear like a confession. “Just…don’t freak out on me, yeah? I’ve only ever wanted this with you.” He kissed down your chest, flicking his tongue over your bare nipple. “Plus…I have a few more rounds to make.” Taking it into his mouth as he swirled his tongue around your peaks. Making your hips jut up into his chiseled stomach. You wanted friction anywhere you could get it.

“Riki…” you sucked in a sharp breath, running your hands down his broad shoulders and digging your fingers into his flesh.

His free hand moved down to your hips to cease your movements. “Okay, okay…” You had never seen this side of Riki before—so sexy, confident, playful. Sex can either bring out the best or worst in someone. And he seemed to be at his best. Without another word, he slid your panties down and lifted your legs up as he spread them apart. “Your pussy so fucking beautiful, oh my god. I haven’t eaten pussy in years.” Pushing your legs up to your chest, he didn’t waste another second before bringing his face down to your folds. Flicking his tongue around your clit in an attempt to make you beg for more. 

Parting your lips, it hurt Riki to tease you even for a second. He didn’t even want to make you beg, he just wanted to taste you. 

Riki groaned against your folds, the sound vibrating straight into your core. His hands gripped the backs of your thighs like he was anchoring himself, like if he let go you’d float away. He pulled back just far enough to look up at you, lips already glistening.

“Fuck, mama—taste better than I dreamed.” His words were muffled by the curve of your thigh, but his eyes were clear, locked on yours like he needed you to know he meant every word.

You whimpered, heat coiling in your belly. “You…you dreamed about this?”

He smirked, but the way his voice cracked on the next words betrayed him. “Every night. And I’m not stopping until you’re shaking on my tongue.”

And then he buried his face in you again, hungrier this time—no more hesitation, no more teasing. Like he’d been starving and finally, finally got a taste.

His tongue flattened against your clit, dragging in long, deliberate strokes that made your spine arch off the mattress. He groaned like he couldn’t help himself, like the taste of you was everything he’d been missing, and the sound vibrated through you until you were gasping. “Riki—oh my god—” you whined, hands flying to his hair, tugging at the strands like you didn’t know whether to pull him closer or push him away.

He didn’t care either way—his grip on your thighs was iron, keeping you spread wide while he buried his face deeper, licking and sucking like a man who hadn’t eaten in years. “Fuck, baby, you’re dripping for me,” he moaned against your cunt, every word sticky and muffled, “can’t—can’t stop.”

Your hips jerked, desperate for more friction, but he already had you pinned, devouring you like it was the last meal he’d ever get. His tongue flicked circles around your clit before dipping low, pushing into you with wet, greedy strokes. You cried out, thighs trembling, but he just hummed like your squirming only made him hungrier.

“Riki, I—ah, fuck, I can’t—” He pulled back just enough to breathe, lips shiny, chest heaving. “Yes, you can. You’re gonna cum for me. Right on my tongue.” And before you could even protest, he latched back onto your clit, sucking hard, tongue pressing quick and rough until stars burst behind your eyes.

Your body jolted—hips bucking despite his hands holding you down—and the wave hit so sudden it ripped a scream out of you. You came hard, thighs shaking uncontrollably around his head, but Riki didn’t stop, didn’t even think to. He groaned low and needy, drinking you down, tongue still lapping like he couldn’t stand to waste a drop. You shoved at his shoulders weakly, whining his name, but he only chuckled darkly against your oversensitive skin. “Nah, baby. Don’t run from it. Been waiting too damn long for this.”

Your breath was still stuttering from the high when Riki finally pulled back, lips slick, jaw shiny in the moonlight. He kissed up your thigh, your stomach, your chest, slow now—like he knew he’d just wrung you out and needed to coax you back to earth before taking you higher.

“You good?” he whispered against your collarbone, voice thick and reverent. He looked almost shy for a second, which would’ve been funny if you weren’t still trembling.

“Y-yeah,” you panted, threading shaky fingers through his hair. “Too good.”

He smirked, but there was something tender behind it. His hand slid down, wrapping around himself as he lined up. You glanced down, throat drying all over again—he was huge, the kind of huge that made you nervous even though you wanted him so bad it hurt.

“Hey,” he murmured, kissing your forehead. “We’ll go slow. I’ll let you get used to me. You just tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You nodded, nails biting into his shoulders. He pressed in, slow and steady, stretching you inch by inch until your mouth dropped open on a silent moan. He groaned, burying his face in your neck like it was taking everything in him not to move faster.

“Fuck, baby…so tight. So perfect.” His voice was strangled, desperate, but he held still, giving you time. His hand stroked down your side, grounding you. “Breathe for me. You got it.”

And once your body finally relaxed around him, once the sting melted into a deep, dizzy fullness—you whispered, “Okay. Move.”

That’s when he lost it.

The careful control snapped, and his hips surged forward, grinding you into the mattress with a force that made your back arch off the sheets. Every thrust knocked the air from your lungs, the headboard creaking, his name tumbling out of your mouth between cries.

“God, mama,” he groaned, gripping your thighs, folding you deeper into the bed. “You feel too good—I can’t stop. Gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t think straight.”

The air was already thick with your moans when he shifted his grip, dragging your thighs higher up his waist. The new angle made you gasp, your nails raking red lines into his back.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he gritted, watching your face twist with every slow grind. “That’s the spot he couldn’t find, huh? That fucker didn’t even know how to touch you.”

You whimpered, trying to hide your face, but Riki caught your chin and made you look at him. His eyes were burning, raw, all man.

“Look at me,” he growled softly. “I’m not some little boy fumbling in the dark. I know this body—I’ve been memorizing it since the first time you let me kiss you. I know how to make you fall apart. And I’ll prove it every time.”

He pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back in, dragging a ragged cry out of you. The sound made his smirk go feral. “See? That’s what happens when a grown man fucks you right. I’ll give you a reason to take that fucking ring off. I’ll make it worth it, baby—I know what to do.”

Your legs shook, your body caught between too much and not enough. He was relentless now, driving you into the mattress with deep, punishing strokes, but still angled perfectly—making your toes curl, making your chest ache with the sheer force of it.

“Tell me,” he demanded between thrusts, sweat dripping onto your skin. “Tell me I feel better than he ever could.”

“R-Riki—”

“No,” he snapped, kissing you hard, swallowing your moan. When he pulled back, his voice was low, husky, almost pleading. “Say it. I need to hear you say it.”

Your voice broke into sobs of pleasure as you clawed at his shoulders. “Better! You’re—you’re better than anyone. No one’s ever—fuck—no one’s ever made me feel like this.”

That lit him up like gasoline to flame. His pace turned savage, the headboard rattling, his mouth at your ear, whispering filth and devotion in the same breath. “That’s right. Only me. Only your man. Gonna make sure you never even think about anyone else when you’re in this bed.” Biting your earlobe, he whispers, "should've found me first, I would've gave you a reason to really take that fucking ring off."

His thrusts grew harder, deeper, his breath ragged against your skin as if he couldn’t get close enough. Every snap of his hips left you gasping, your body arching up to meet him, desperate for more.

“Fuck—look at you,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours. “You’re losing your mind for me. Just like you should’ve all along.”

You could barely form words, clutching at his back like you were trying to anchor yourself. “Riki, I—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he whispered fiercely, kissing your wet cheeks. “I’ve got you. I know exactly what you need.”

Your walls fluttered around him, and he felt it—the way your body was begging for release. He slowed down just enough to make you scream in frustration, circling his hips, grinding into your spot until you were trembling. “See?” he smirked breathlessly. “That’s control, mama. A grown man takes his time. Makes sure you get yours before he even thinks about his own.”

The tears came harder, not from sadness but from sheer overwhelming need. You grabbed his face, nails digging into his jaw. “Don’t—don’t let me go alone. I wanna—fuck—I wanna cum with you.” 

His expression shattered, pure heat and love mingling in his eyes. “With me?” he rasped. “God, baby…say it again.”

“With you,” you begged, voice breaking. “Please, with you.”

That was all it took. He pulled you tight against him, his thrusts wild now, desperate, like he was chasing down the very core of your soul. The room filled with the sound of skin, gasps, moans, the headboard hitting the wall. “Then hold onto me,” he growled, every muscle straining. “We’ll go together.” He smiled breathlessly as he slowly removed his frames, sliding them over your eyes. “I wanna see you cum just…like…this.”

Your cries mingled, rising higher and higher until you broke first, convulsing around him, dragging him straight over the edge with you. He shouted your name, hips stuttering as he spilled deep, clinging to you like if he let go, the world would end. And when it was over, when the tremors finally stilled, he kissed you like a man undone—slow, reverent, as if every part of him belonged to you now.

The world slowed. Your heart still pounded, your skin slick and buzzing, but Riki didn’t let you move. He kept you pressed to his chest, one big hand smoothing down your spine like he was grounding you both.

“You okay, mama?” he murmured, voice hoarse but soft. He kissed the top of your damp scalp, his lips lingering there. “Didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You shook your head against him, still trying to catch your breath. “No…you ruined me. But in the best way.”

He chuckled low, but it broke into a sigh, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone to wipe the tears that never fully dried. “Good.” He pulled out gently, immediately wincing at the way you flinched from sensitivity, whispering apologies into your temple as he grabbed a towel from the nightstand. He cleaned you with careful, unhurried hands, like you were fragile, precious. Like this mattered more than anything else. Then he slid back under the covers, wrapping himself around you so your head rested on his bare chest. His heartbeat thumped hard, steady, anchoring you. He tucked the blanket around your shoulders and kissed your forehead.

“Baby?” you whispered after a while, when the silence felt too full.

“Yeah? Oh my gosh I’ll never get over you calling me that.” His voice was already fading with exhaustion, but he was still rubbing circles into your back.

You smiled, in a daze. “I meant it,” you whispered. “I love you.”

His chest expanded under your cheek, like the words physically filled him up. He kissed your crown again and whispered back, almost in disbelief, “Say it one more time.”

“I love you, Riki.”

This time he laughed quietly, holding you tighter. “God, I’m never letting you go. You’re so fucked. Literally and figuratively.”

You shut your eyes, the words sinking into your chest like they’d been waiting there all along. With the faintest smile, you pressed your lips to his collarbone, answering back just as quiet, just as certain—

“I’ll take it.”

He laughed at your little double entendre. And that was the last thing either of you said before sleep claimed you both.

fin.

Copyright: © zorange13. 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, copy, or distribute without permission.

[seungsoftly]

₊☀︎ the girl in the tower ❀

⚘ tangled!au sim jaeyun x fem. reader ⚘ warnings: angst, a good bit of fluff too, major character death (star-crossed lovers), reader was kidnapped as a child and has been imprisoned in a tower for her entire life, toxic mother figure, talk of drowning, one small kissing scene (like two disney approved pecks), irene from rv as mother gothel, felix and bangchan from skz as the stabbington brothers, jungkook from bts and yeonjun, soobin, beomgyu, and taehyun from txt as the tavern thugs (but they're not thugs), not proofread ⚘ wc: 25.7k

⚘ synopsis: all you can remember is the view from your tower, never allowed to leave and only catching glimpses of the outside world through the window in your bedroom. but every year, without fail, there's always a gorgeous glimmer of pink lights in the sky off in the distance that you want to go see up closer. and when a handsome stranger finds his way into your tower, you can't help but ask him to take you (and maybe fall for him along the way). if only fate would let the two of you have a happily ever after.

⚘ livi's note: i cannot believe that i'm saying this, but it's finally done and here! this fic was so fun to plan out and write and i really am so excited to see what you guys think of it! i did my best to try and find a healthy balance between sticking to the general plot and adding my own little twists to the story, so i hope it's at least somewhat enjoyable to read and not too terribly shitty of a fic lol. should this have taken the few extra weeks that it did? no, not really, but what matters is the fact that it's done now and here for you guys to enjoy! and if there are any hate anons who want to spit out ai accusations, i did remember to record a short portion of writing a scene if you want proof that i actually wrote this with the help of my own brain and not ai.

⚘ fic taglist: @s1rawb3rry, @noxitsnox, @firstclassjaylee, @mssishipi, @lilscast, @k1ttyjwon, @getoxo, @xocandypoo, @mixxie2203, @seokjinthescientist, @doraemon02, @brokenengene, @iclimbjungwon, @simjaexy, @hazelira, @laylasbunbunny

once upon a time, in a kingdom far far away, there lived a king and queen in their royal castle, nestled deep within the heart of the kingdom. every one of the citizens loved their king and queen. the king was noble, he himself setting off on journeys alongside his army of brave soldiers to keep his kingdom safe and secured where it rested on an errant isle of the mainland.

the queen was incredibly beloved for her kindness and generosity, always making sure that everyone had enough to eat and a place to shelter themselves when the weather took the occasional turn. even though she had everything, she was more concerned that most weren’t so lucky. she quickly became a role model for all of the young girls growing up within the kingdom, admiring what she did for others and wanting to be just like her when they grew up.

many years ago, before the kingdom of decelis was barely a little dot on the map, something magical happened only miles away from the bridge to the isle it lay on. a drop, just a small little drop, of sunlight fell from high above, landing on the ground of a cliffside and somehow making a golden flower blossom, the magic within it lying unknown until centuries later.

back in decelis, fast forwarding to the good parts, it was soon discovered that the king and queen were expecting a child, growing their well-admired family and now offering the kingdom an heir. the citizens had hoped and prayed that the pregnancy would be easy on their nobles, wishing their queen the best of conditions for her time of growing the child within her, but these prayers did little help.

unfortunately, they were proven to be not very effective. soon, the citizens began asking why the king wasn’t making any more appearances outside of the castle to go talk with them as he normally did, and the answer that they received was disheartening and concerning for them.

the queen had fallen ill, her condition worsening by the day. the king had been getting no sleep, simply worrying nonstop about the wellbeing of his wife. the people of decelis were almost the same way. they’d stay up with him, on vigils just poring through their books and scrolls for a solution, or for those that didn’t read, all they did was pray. even if it hadn’t worked before, it still could work now. to some it was almost a way to try and relieve maybe even a fraction of their worry about the kingdom and the nobles.

finally, after days of waiting at the queen’s bedside, sleepless and worried, the king received news of something that one of the citizens had discovered in an old book that had been passed down from a couple of generations.

“your highness,” the head of his royal guard set his hand lightly on the king’s shoulder. “i think we’ve found a cure.”

the king didn’t process his words at first, exhausted eyes still set on his wife, violently ill and bedridden. then it seemed to hit him all in a single moment, the man moving to action quickly.

“gather all of the royal guard,” he ordered. “we set out at dawn for this so-called cure.”

“yes sir.” the guard saluted, then quickly marched out of the room to alert his fleet of men. it was the whole kingdom’s mission and wish to see the queen healthy again, so this would be a quest that every citizen would approve of.

they set out on their ships only hours later, journeying alongside the coast of the mainland until they finally arrived at the point on the map in the ancient tome that they’d discovered the cure in. it was obvious that it was here, the large golden flower already glowing in a way that they could see from the sea.

it was a difficult hike up the cliff, but it was all worth it when the guards were able to uproot that flower and take it to the boat, transporting it all the way back to decelis where it would hopefully heal their queen like the ancient tome said it would.

but unbeknownst to them, they made it just in time. a woman named irene had also been approaching the healing flower, pausing to duck secretly behind a bush when she’d heard the guards coming up the cliffside.

when she saw them take it, she was furious. she’d been using it to keep herself young, having already lived for far more than her time should have been. and it was that greed for youth that led her to follow them back to decelis, watching from afar as they used it to heal their queen.

the journey back home was taken as quickly as possible, every man on each of the ships eager to get the flower back to their queen. nobody wanted to lose her or their heir.

they rushed the flower to the palace as soon as the first ship docked in the harbor, the captain of the guard hand delivering it to his king, who still hadn’t moved from his place at his wife’s bedside.

a bowl full of hot water was given to him, the king placing the golden flower within it for a moment to allow its healing properties to diffuse within the liquid before holding it up to his wife’s lips, helping her to drink the thing that they were hopeful would heal the queen.

and it did. the queen made a miraculous recovery and the whole kingdom celebrated because of it. they were all relieved that the generous monarch was okay now, and now her pregnancy was almost near the end of its term, so excitement was also being expressed about the soon-to-be born heir.

weeks later, the queen went into labor. it was a private affair, the king and the royal physician and his assistants were the only ones in the room with her, and thankfully it was a short and easy labor before she gave birth, the cries of the newly-born princess cutting softly through the palace walls.

she was presented to the kingdom a week after her birth, and everyone loved the little girl almost instantly. decelis’ little heir was a new icon in the kingdom, and all of the citizens just kept wishing the royal family nothing but the best with their new family.

a month of peaceful times went by for the king and queen and their newborn daughter, the kingdom thriving around them and the family receiving much love and support from their people. it was a time that everyone wished would never end, but there was a disturbance soon after that would change the kingdom for a very long time.

that woman that had been using the flower up until it was taken by the guards, irene, didn’t want to give up her magical source of youth. it was only her that seemed to realize that the flower’s powers had transferred to the young child, and the girl’s long hair seemed to be just an obvious sign of it.

so she snuck into the palace one night, through the window to stand right beside the young princess’ bassinet, and proceeded to try and snip of a large piece of that flowing hair to see if that would be enough to give her back a source of her youth.

but as she said the incantation that activated the magic in the flower and cut through the strand, it shriveled, growing less shiny and voluminous and thinning out instead, the magic just vanishing from the severed hair in her hand. since that didn’t work, the only way that irene knew that she could stay young was taking the child with her and just making a whole new life with her while convincing her that unknowingly keeping her young was a good thing.

the girl started crying again right as irene swept her into her arms and escaped swiftly through the same window that she’d come in through. it woke the king and queen, sleeping in the room connected to the princess’ nursery, but they were too late, just catching the last of their daughter’s distancing cries and an empty bassinet and open window, letting in a chilling breeze.

they were devastated and distraught, the queen collapsing to her knees, already sobbing for the child that had just been stolen from her that she hadn’t even had for more than a month. the king’s emotions were more of anger, furious that someone had gotten into the castle and stolen his only child, of which the pregnancy had almost killed his wife.

“from now on, the royal guard will be doubled! half will go to the search for the princess and half will take part in the heavy security for the palace and the kingdom,” he shouted, having sent his servants to wake the whole castle and royal guard.

the search for the lost princess began that morning, ships getting launched to every mapped corner of the mainland’s coast and other guards being sent across the bridge to scour the interior of the mainland. the king would not have his daughter out there without sending hordes of soldiers to search for her. the whole kingdom believed that there had to be some chance of getting their princess back, but hopes began to fade after almost a year of searching, when the girl’s first birthday came along.

the king and queen decided that they were going to start a festival in honor of their missing daughter, allowing the people of decelis to be happy and celebrate their own loved ones and just have fun while honoring the memory of the little girl that everyone loved for the short time that they’d gotten to know her.

so, it became a tradition, each year, the king and queen would launch the first of many pink lanterns in their lost daughter’s honor, standing on the main balcony of the castle and just standing and holding each other as they watched the night sky light up in a rosy glow that countered the stars.

the queen always teared up at the sight, genuinely touched that all of the citizens in her kingdom did this along with them to remember the princess. with her daughter stolen away, she’d become more emotional as she made her rounds around the kingdom and caught glimpses of other families with many children, but she still remained that humble, kind woman that helped everyone that she could. the people called her brave and inspiring for this still, admiring her even more for the fact that she still hadn’t changed for the worse even after such a traumatic memory of her daughter being taken from right under her.

but unbeknownst to the people of decelis, their princess laid only a short horseback ride from the bridge on the mainland, hidden away in a tower that was tucked into a grove guarded by an entrance that seemed just like another wall of ivy over a rock when it really wasn’t. nobody knew that she was here except for irene herself.

the woman that had stolen her away from her home and her kingdom raised the princess as her own daughter, telling her to call her mother while brushing her hair and inconspicuously saying that incantation to make herself younger with the magic that the girl’s hair possessed.

the young girl didn’t see anything awry in the way that irene raised her. she’d been so young when she’d been taken that she couldn’t remember any other life besides the one that she was living in the tower, so she just tried her best to be a good daughter and do what irene asked of her without asking any questions.

as she grew older, the little princess became fascinated in the pink lights that glowed in the sky only once a year. she remembered her mother always talking about how anything outside of the tower was bad and they weren’t going to talk about it, but she just couldn’t help but be fascinated by them.

maybe one day, she could go see them and find out what they really were.

the morning started as it always did, the sun beaming in through the open shutters on the large window that served as a door when you used your hair to lift mother up into your little home, warming the space of your bedroom with the beaming light. it was such a peaceful way to wake up, alongside nature so that you’d get to enjoy the day in the main room of the tower, sun shining through the couple of windows.

you yawned as your eyes fluttered open, lashes separating from where they’d been together as you slept. the sun had been warming the empty side of your bed, you often drifting from the middle to the side that was farthest from the door that creaked open to let the morning light in.

not to any surprise at all, jungwon, your cat, was already laying in a puddle of the sunlight near the entrance of the room, eyes closed and curled up. he was more of a drifter than anything, doing everything to his own accord and at his speed. you had learned quickly when he’d first been introduced to the tower by mother that you didn’t need to try and make him do the things that you wanted him to do.

sitting up, the covers pooled onto your lap, falling down from where they’d been pulled up to cover your chest all the way up to your armpits. you got so cold at night sometimes that you’d freeze to death if you weren’t all covered up. the tower was not a place that kept heat in well. at best there would be a drafty chill that floated through the air in the dead of winter.

thankfully it was closer to the season of summer now, the sun warming everything when it blazed bright, high in the sky, beams peaking through the large window of the tower. sure, you weren’t quite as cold at night now, but there was still a strong appeal to curling up into the covers of your bed and laying under the blankets. it was like a comforting warm hug almost.

well, it wasn’t like you really had real warm hugs to compare it to. the hugs that mother gave you were scarce, and even then she wouldn’t even fully embrace you, just sort of letting one arm hover over your shoulders and giving you a little squeeze before pulling away quickly.

you’d become used to it by now though. being alone for the majority of the time was just how your life was. sure, you had jungwon, but he still wasn’t a person. sometimes you wondered just how terrible the outside world was if mother refused to let you go outside the tower. were the people really monsters like she always described in her vivid stories, the same ones that she’d told year after year whenever you started asking too many questions about outside of the tower.

as you’d gotten older, the questions had stopped passing through your lips, already knowing exactly what mother would say. your younger self had been eager to repeat them day after day, but it got old quickly, so you resorted to dreaming instead, staring entranced at the stars whenever the night sky was clear enough for them to all twinkle bright for you to see.

it was almost as if they were your friends too, greeting you almost every night with a sparkle. they were always there for you, unlike really any other person. the one human being in your life frequently made day trips and left you all alone, and the rest of the world was apparently too dangerous for you in her eyes.

but there had to be a good reason behind it. you knew mother always meant best, even if it was a little bit extreme. if staying in this tower meant that you’d be safe, at least you knew that you were tucked away, safe and sound.

a little sigh escaped from your mouth as you swung your legs out of the bed, standing up quickly and padding over to the little dresser that sat in the corner of your room. the old wooden thing was clearly one of the older items in the tower, but it did you good for its age. it was still fully functional and the wood wasn’t even splintering, making it a pretty decent piece of furniture.

you always set out clothes for the next day just before you went to bed, even if it was typically just a variation of pretty much the same dress in just slightly different shades of color. there were several that even looked just about alike if it wasn’t for the little bits of wear that only you really noticed. you’d been wearing them for so long that you could tell exactly which one was which and which day you normally wore it on.

laundry was only done about every week, so the rotation of dresses that you went through was just another part of the mindless routine that you’d gone through for the entirety of your life. mother made you do yours and hers, letting you sit there on the floor and scrub away in the basin of soapy water. you didn’t mind. hard work was a good thing and it was something else for you to do other than just sit and waste away staring at the walls or the same words on the pages of the few books that you’d read hundreds of times.

you grabbed the dress on your way out of the room, heading for the little bathroom attached to your bedroom to splash some water on your face and run a damp cloth across your body, ridding yourself of any sweat or grime that might have been on your skin as you slept.

next was the dry towel, larger than the cloth that you’d used to clean yourself, running it across your body to pat dry all of the moisture that had freshened you up from the night. once that had absorbed all of the stray droplets of water, you were finally able to pull your day dress on, lacing it up in mere seconds from lots of experience of doing it yourself over the years.

the skirt of it swished around your legs, falling to just below your calves in soft pleats of a light lavender, as you pranced around the bathroom, setting the little things that had somehow drifted from their places exactly where they should be. an organized space was the best thing to you. and it gave you yet another thing to do!

but before you left the room, you grabbed the brush that sat beside the sink, staring dead at you with eyes even if no object like that even had any. you knew what was next and it did too.

your steps tapped lightly against the floor as you walked out of the bathroom and through your bedroom, not stopping until you reached the bright space of the main room of the tower. you walked through the sunlight, feet warming quickly before you passed back into the shadows on the floor, headed right for the little couch in the corner of the room.

you loved brushing your hair here, able to see the little peeks of nature outside of the tower through the window, but not directly in the heat of the sunlight that poured through. not to mention the fact that you could see all of the little paintings that covered the walls.

the corner right above the smaller window farther up the wall was slathered in blues and purples and yellows, the night sky coming to life against the dull walls. you’d made sure that you could always see your friends in the stars no matter if it was daytime or the sky was covered in clouds after the sun finally set and the moon rose.

they’d all been charted too, each star accurately denoted on the wall in the position that you always saw it in when staring up at the twinkling dots. you could practically draw them with your eyes closed, just from memory with the amount of times that you’d just traced over the designs with a clean paintbrush, nothing on it. you weren’t painting over any of your work, you were just reliving the moment that those walls had been brought to life through the art.

you so wished that you could continue to cover the walls in your art, but there was just no wall left to cover. everything was painted. sometimes if you got desperate enough you begged and pleaded for mother to bring you back some of the large leaves that she’d found on one of her little trips. they made okay canvases, but they weren’t anywhere close to another wall.

sometimes you even considered painting that old dresser, but you could never end up bringing yourself to do it. there was just something about the tone of the pure wood that screamed that it wanted to be left alone, continuing to show its own beauty.

the soft sound of jungwon meowing pulled you gently out of your thoughts, putting a small smile on your face as you watched the cat paw slowly over to you and jump up onto the couch, settling in on the other side of it from you. at least he knew when you needed to be kept on track with the way that you wanted to keep yourself busy doing something instead of just daydreaming for hours upon end.

“yeah, i probably should get on brushing,” you whispered softly, smile still tight on your cheeks. standing up for a moment, you reached behind you and gathered up all of your hair, which a decent amount of it brushed the ground gently as you walked. once it had been all wrangled into your arms, you sat down once again, setting the soft strands into your lap and holding them by the ends, beginning the long process of brushing through it all.

the ends were first to keep from yanking all of your hair out of your head, brushing up your hair little by little after several passes through each section that you moved on to. by the time that you’d just finished running the brush fully through all of your hair, you could feel the slight soreness that always onset after reaching so much with your arms. thankfully it had gotten better over time. in the transition from mother brushing it for you everyday when you were younger to you brushing it by yourself on the many days that she was gone with only a few times every fortnight that she’d brush it, your arms had burned so terribly as you held them up for so long, making you so sore but you had no choice but to face the pain and learn to deal with it because tangled hair this long was not something that you wanted to have happen.

mother still helped brush your hair every once in a while, singing that one little song that you’d grown up hearing so many times. now, it was something almost soothing, reminding you of the peaceful childhood and the moments where all of mother’s attention had been on you, loving you as much as she could.

she was more distant now, both physically and emotionally, but that was okay. you’d come to terms with the fact that she’d trusted you to give you a little more independence and helped you to learn to live on your own.

sometimes you really did wish that she trusted you enough to let you explore outside of the tower though. because glancing at that wall full of the stars that you saw every night, you remembered that there were a few missing. except unlike the ones that were painted, they didn’t appear every night. just once a year, glowing in those blush-like tones and gently moving along the skyline.

admittedly, this was not a normal feeling for you. just after lunch, you’d fallen into a sort of frenzy as you’d nibbled on the little plate you’d fixed yourself as a light midday meal, staring dreamily at the corner painted with the cluster of stars that could be seen outside of the tower window.

your mind was just running wild, eyes glancing around with the plate of food abandoned on the little table next to the couch. you had just suddenly felt the urge to paint, slathering another part of the wall in a medley of beautiful pink, white, and deep blue for the night sky on that one night a year where another crowd of twinkling lights appeared, a beautiful pink compared to the yellow ones that remained in practically the same spots for most of the year.

your body moved before your mind did, springing up from the couch on which you were sitting to go gather the box of paints that mother had brought you over time. you just had to do it.

when you returned, almost skidding when you forced yourself to stop in front of the grand mantle in the front of the room, you saw exactly where you wanted those pink lights to go on the tower’s walls.

there was something that resembled a door panel that sat on top of the mantle, exactly in the center as some curtains draped to either side of it. you could just move that and push aside the curtains and it’d make a great blank wall to paint! why hadn’t you seen it earlier?

jungwon just gave you a lazy look, obviously curious as to what had just made you so energetic all of a sudden, but he set his head back down and closed his eyes again after a moment of watching you as you climbed up onto the mantle with the help of some furniture and your hair.

you weren’t even tired as you pushed the panel to the side, tucking it behind one of the curtains that hung next to it and then tying those aside where the wall was bared and ready to paint. one quick swing of yourself down and a climb back up had you setting the box of paints next to where you were standing on the mantle, brush in hand and ready to brush the first stroke of paint on your newfound canvas.

the deep blue covered the brush as you dipped it slowly in the pot of paint that you’d just mixed, turning the auburn bristles dark with the new color and staining them with the leftover paint once most of it had been brushed onto the wall. it was the color that took you the most time to cover the wall with, making it into the image of the night sky with each long brushstroke that you made.

once that tedious part was over, it was time for the even more exciting portion of your painting: the actual pink lights and the faint stars that could be seen glowing behind them in shades of soft white. you added those first, dipping your brush into the color of paint that had been made from ground up shells that had been the color of ivory.

the small dots that you made blended into the night sky that you’d given them easily, brush lightly adding little halos around them as you did your finishing touches with the color. the water swirled around the brush and clinked against the little glass cup of water you’d sat next to you to rinse off the old color to paint with a new one. once it emerged from the cloudy water, you tapped it against the edge of the glass, small droplets of water falling back into the cup with the rest of the water.

your smile grew as you dipped the brush into the pot of paint that was the color of the blush roses that mother sometimes brought back to you when she stumbled across them while off on her journeys. that was actually what it was made out of, you drying the petals and grinding them up to a fine powder before mixing them into a spare little bit of white paint and some water to make it a smooth texture.

it was like you almost fell into a dreamy haze as the brush moved across the wall, leaving strokes of paint behind that brought the pink lights to life in your painting, bringing all of the memories of watching them move through the sky on that one night a year that they appeared.

in fact, it was almost that time of year again. the rainy weather of spring was drying up, leaves turning a vibrant green after a season of growth for all of the plants that had shriveled into themselves during the cold winter. only a few days from now, the heat of summer would be made a little better, you getting to see those pink lights once more, the night sky dark among the twinkling of them and the stars that laid faintly behind them.

“y/n! come lift me up!” mother’s voice cut through your fantasy-filled daze, making you scramble to get everything put away before she came up into the tower. the curtains were tugged hurriedly back into place, making sure that they covered every bit of the freshly dried paint, paint pots clinked against one another as you grabbed the box that held them all and jumped carefully off the mantle, setting it down and rushing over the the large window.

“coming mother!” you called in return, gathering up the hair that dragged lightly behind you and swinging it up onto the little hook above you that acted like an anchor for helping to lift mother into the tower. you could see her standing at the base of it a ways below you, arms crossed with her basket balanced on one of them.

you let out a little grunt as you hauled her up, the strain a familiar, but still difficult action for you to perform. it was good for you to do though, just to get a little extra activity other than just rushing excitedly around the tower for the most part.

she, on the other hand, wasn’t even breathing more than quietly, smoothly stepping onto the wooden windowsill once she was high enough in the air to do so, pulling her hood down with a flourish as she stepped down into the tower in front of you.

“you know how i don’t like to be kept waiting, y/n,” she said in that soft voice of hers, the tone of it almost politely scolding. you did feel bad about taking so long to help her up, because you usually were there the second she called out. but facing just a sentence with a mostly-calm tone from her was a lot better than her freaking out when she found you mid-painting of the thing that she’d told you to forget about so many times.

you tilted you chin to the ground slightly before responding, making sure that she knew you were bashful because you were truly sorry. “i’m sorry mother, i was in my bedroom reorganizing a few things and it took me a moment to set some things down and get down here.”

then came the smooth laugh that she always did when it was clear that she was the boss. “it’s alright my darling,” she took your chin between two fingers and tilted it up gently, eyes with a pitying expression that only masked the satisfaction of seeing your obedience. “let’s just make sure it doesn’t happen again, right?”

you were quick to shakily nod, not wanting to upset her any more by taking too long to agree. you’d much rather have her be that sickly sweet form of nice than passive aggressive because she was frustrated with you. those few days had not been fun to roam around the tower during.

“you’re such a good girl for mummy, aren’t you y/n. i’ve raised you well,” she cooed, patting you on the top of your head gently before walking right past you to the little kitchen area to the left of the main part of the lower floor of the tower. “it’s honestly impressive how you can do that every single time.”

you breathed out a little sigh, responding bubbily to her, “oh it’s nothing mother!”

“then i don’t understand why you’re not prepared to lift me up at the time that you know i’ll be back at!” she chuckled, the jab mainly floating past you as you were back off floating between barely listening and daydreaming about asking her if you could go see those pink lights.

she brushed past you then, setting her basket down with a flourish that only she could have. “now how about i brush your hair for you dear,” she turned back to you, soft smile back on her face and looking right into your eyes for a long moment before she walked past yet again to grab the hairbrush that always laid in the little drawer of the table next to the couch.

“but i already..” you tried to say, failing to finish your sentence when she cut you off, knowing the message you were trying to convey.

“it’s okay dearest, i’ll just brush it again for you! it’ll just make your hair even softer and more beautiful.” she walked over to the little chair that had been declared hers for a long time, gesturing at the little stool that sat before it for you to come take a seat and let her brush your hair. “and you remember how that little song of ours that we sing while i brush goes?”

“of course mother,” you said quietly, taking your seat and chewing on your lip a little bit as you waiting for her to get started so she could get done faster.

you could almost hear the air whoosh around her dramatic gestures behind you, waving her hands around and placing one on her heart like she always did when she asked you if you could do a task that you were certain that she already knew that you did. “oh who am i kidding, of course you remember it! such an amazing daughter for remembering so much!”

when you began to sing softly, the familiar feeling of positive energy beginning to flow through your veins reappeared, almost buzzing below your skin a little bit as you hurried through the words that you’d sung so many times before. to be honest, you just wanted it to be over with, able to at least go sit in the solitude that you normally disliked.

after the last few words rushed out from between your lips, you heard mother gasp surprisedly behind you. “goodness, y/n slow down. it’s not a race dearest.”

while you’d sat there though, you’d decided that you were indeed going to show her the painting, just to see if you could convince her to let you have the one birthday present that you’d dreamed of for as long as you could remember.

you started slowly, standing up and facing her with a gentle smile on your face, “so mother, do you recall those lights in the sky, the ones that appear only once a year, and on my birthday of all days?”

“oh do you mean the stars dear? i thought you of all people would know that they’re in the sky all year,” she responded, voice lilting in that tone that you’d grown to realize meant that she knew she was the one in control.

“no mother, the pink lights that sort of drift as the night goes on. and they happen to be tomorrow night, so i was just wondering if i could maybe go see them…” your voice drifted off at the end, growing softer as you got a little more nervous to hear her response.

the look on her face changed when she heard your request, softness growing harder and eyes growing sharper. “y/n, the outside world is a dangerous place, and you can’t go out there. i don't want to hear about the lights again.”

you didn’t protest, lips pressing together at her answer. there was no point in trying to continue to convince her if this was her response to the first time that you asked.

she stood up quickly from her chair and walked swiftly over to where her basket laid, picking it up and hanging it over one arm. “i’m off to go get things for dinner dear. i’ll be back sooner than you realize.”

jake’s heart was beginning to beat a little faster, not yet pounding like it would be a few minutes in the future, but still enough where he could feel the adrenaline starting to rush through his veins, spreading all throughout his body and exciting his mind. it was go time.

“get in and get out sim,” a sharp voice pulled him out of his thoughts, jake turning to see the stern faces of his co-conspirators. “focus on the crown and don’t get distracted. i know how you can get.”

bangchan and felix stood across from jake, the former having been the one that spoke to him, both with their glaring faces that made the air around them turn dark. they were certainly intimidating, but with jake having known them for a bit of time and just being himself, he wasn’t scared of them. rather, it was a lot of fun for him to tease and mess with them a little bit. he knew they wouldn’t do anything serious to him – they needed someone smaller and more agile to sneak in and do the pilfering.

“relax boys,” jake said, smirking as his words came out in a playful tone. “i know what i’m doing, and nothing bad’s going to happen as long as you two can lift me back out. it can’t be that hard since you claim to be sooo strong.”

felix made an annoyed face at him and the black-haired man next to him rolled his eyes, ignoring jake as he moved closer to the edge of the skylight that they’d be sending jake through, into the room full of jewels that they were about to steal from. 

their main target was the shining crown that sat on a pedestal with a glass dome over the top of it, not having been touched for almost eighteen years. technically, it belonged to the lost princess, but it was more like it was supposed to be for her. she’d never really even gotten the chance to wear it before she was stolen away, having not been seen since despite all of the search efforts that the king and queen exhausted.

the rope was rough against jake’s fingers as he carefully tied it around himself, double and then triple-knotting it before checking even more times that it was secure. he wasn’t too worried that he would get dropped or anything, bangchan and felix were pretty muscular, and if they were going to do something to him, it’d be after they got the goods they were after, not a minute before.

“ready now sim?” bangchan asked with an annoyed grumble, clearly ready to have what he’d dragged himself up on this high roof for already.

jake smirked back, giving him a cheerful affirmative before turning to face the now-open hole of the skylight, readying himself to drop down. but he knew better than to think that the pair behind him was going to let him go at his pace.

“woah now,” jake turned, seeing the exact thing that he’d expected to see right as he stood over the skylight – extended arms ready to push him in and move him along. “boys, you’ve got to learn to go with the flow, not with the desire. that’s motivation but not the process.”

felix moved forward, almost grabbing jake by the collar, “enough yapping pretty boy. it’s time to shut up and do your job.”

“alright, alright,” jake held his hands up, walking backwards slowly until his heels were about to hit the edge of the skylight.

he swung one leg over and sat down, turning back once more to make sure that the two had the rope tied around him held firmly before he finally pushed off and descended down into the room.

there were a whole bunch of guards stationed in random places around the room, although all were in front of the one treasure that jake would be taking. seems like they only thought intruders would come in through the front. and even more ironically, the glass case that normally laid around the shimmering crown had been removed, probably for cleaning or something along the lines of that. they just kept making his job easier and easier, didn’t they.

jake had just been lowered enough to grab hold of the crown, his fingers catching around the edge of it and pulling it up into his hands, signalling to his accomplices above him to lift him up now. but of course, the yapping had to do it.

one of the guards close to the crown’s now-empty pedestal sneezed, and before jake could stop himself, he’d said, “you’know, all the dust that collects in these carpets is terrible for people with allergies. you should really see about getting that post of yours changed. you deserve better.”

“i really do,” the guard sighed back, not making the connection of why there was a voice behind him all of a sudden until jake was almost lifted fully back out through the skylight. the guards all turned around sharply to catch just a glimpse of him before he and felix and bangchan were running, keeping to the roofs until they were almost out of the kingdom.

“what did i literally just say sim,” came the angry retort from the black haired man running beside him, he and his partner clearly furious that, once again, jake’s mouth got them into something that they could have completely avoided if he just didn’t say anything at all.

“oh please we’ll be fine,” jake assured them with that suave tone in his voice, “i mean, we got the crown after all. well really i did…”

“shut up and run!” felix shouted at him, tired of the sound of jake’s voice and the teasing words that he kept saying.

“alright, alright. i’ll be quiet now.”

the sound of the trio’s footsteps hitting the ground as they kept swiftly running into the forest, having just crossed the bridge to the mainland was quickly drowned out by the sound of thundering hooves and the clank of boots from guards running on foot. they were being chased.

trees kept passing by as jake, bangchan, and felix stumbled through the foliage, which kept going from dense to open back to dense again. jake was almost certain that there was nothing else but the trees and shrubs for miles and miles, having gone the opposite way of the little establishments that he knew of in the forest. but to his and the other two men’s surprise, they came across a decently sized cliff face, which had enough little crevices to provide footholes along with the couple of arrows that jake had stashed in the satchel that now contained the crown.

“i’ll go up first and the i’ll help you guys up, how about that?” he asked, a little bit out of breath but still in his playful tone of voice that he always spoke to felix and bangchan in.

“how about you give us that satchel, and then you go first and help us up sim,” felix countered in that deep voice of his, clearly meaning to be intimidating.

jake sighed, playing along to his own beat. he did hand it over first before climbing up, but he also swiped it back before he pulled himself up off the ground and onto the cliff face with the toes of his boots and the points of the arrows that were gripped tightly in his hands.

as soon as jake managed to pull himself to the top, bangchan’s voice was already calling to him from down below. “now help us up sim!”

a big smirk appeared on his face, happy with both how successful he’d been and how unobservant his accomplices were. jake walked to the very edge of the cliff, now dangling the satchel that the two below him thought that he’d given them on a finger, just taunting them now.

“see ya boys!” jake shouted, turning and breaking into a sprint once again since he could yet again hear the thundering of hooves getting louder.

but as he kept running, the sound of the horses and the guards wasn’t the noise that was beginning to make him nervous. it was the loud sound of a bird cawing about, clearly trying to track him down. curse the captain of the guard for having that crazy bird that was more like a military general itself.

several more minutes passed with jake just running as fast as he could, ducking under the trees for cover and fighting through a few bushes to keep from all of the open clearings that just seemed to multiply the farther he got into the forest. the last thing he needed was for that bird to be able to see where he was at well.

shit, jake thought to himself when he came across an open clearing that he just couldn’t avoid. to keep going away from all of the soldiers, he’d have to cross that open area. otherwise it meant turning back for a much larger chance of getting caught by the guard, or worse, felix and bangchan.

he decided to just go for it. that was all that his life was about anyways. jake lived for adrenaline-filled moments like this, and they came with each new day due to his method of survival in the world. there was a brief pause that jake took to catch his breath at the edge of the trees that had done good to cover him, and then he was running again, eyes fixed on that big outcropping of rocks a little ways away.

and then he heard the loud cry of that palace bird, and then a sharp peck to his arm as he ran, clearly trying to get the satchel from him to return the crown. jake was not about to let that happen. he was almost there, hearing a waterfall when he turned behind the giant rocks and spying it a short distance away.

he let out a sharp laugh at his discovery. birds couldn’t fly through a waterfall, so when jake got through it, he’d be safe, not at risk of another attack from that guard bird.

jake was fighting every single muscle in his body, forcing himself to go even faster than he’d ever thought he could run. and he made it, the bird’s sharp cry of anguish at the loss of its target a clear sign that jake had won for now. he could deal with being wet over being captured and pecked to death by that angry bird.

he shook his hair lightly, droplets of water flying everywhere as he ran his hands over his face, swiping away any stray water that remained there. nothing much seemed special about the little grove that laid behind the waterfall, so jake walked the short distance to a dry-looking rock with a bunch of hanging ivy falling down over it, intending to lean up against it while he dumped out his boots and wrung out some of his clothes.

but jake had been so caught up in the thoughts of drying off and happiness that he’d escaped capture that he didn’t think to look any closer at the curtain of ivy hanging over the rock, and when he leaned up against it, he barely managed to catch himself when he discovered that he’d leant up against nothing but air.

jake stumbled a bit as he recovered his balance from the surprise, and of course, when he looked up, he was surprised even more.

a tower laid in this huge grove, green grass luscious but nothing compared to the huge stone structure in the middle of it all. it would be the perfect hiding place, hidden behind not one, but two natural doors that nobody seemed to know about.

the walk to the base of the tower was full of smug emotions, some of success and some simply out of the fact that he’d outsmarted so many people. the same climbing strategy for the cliff earlier could even be used for jake to scale the tower, and it wasn’t long before he was digging the arrowheads into the gaps between the huge stones and finally up into the actual tower.

his first glimpse of it brought a lot of curiosity to mind. it seemed like someone really lived here. and was living here. jake was about to go look around and find some more answers to his questions, but before he could take another step, something heavy and metallic hit him in the side of the head, and there was nothing but black.

you let out a startled gasp when the strange man hit the ground with a loud thump, the sound of the frying pan that you’d grabbed out of fear hitting his head now forever engrained in your mind. you’d just taken down a whole man. like a full-sized adult human male.

jungwon seemed to be sharing a little bit of your shock, his eyes open a lot wider than you’d ever seen them and his tail held up in the air instead of brushing along the floor like it usually was. and it took a lot to even get a little bit of emotion like that out of him. he was just very chill.

“oh my god jungwon, what are we going to do with him?!” you asked frantically, not even caring that the cat couldn’t talk back and respond to you. “what if he’s dangerous or crazy or eats people just like mother said?!”

the feline tilted his head in what seemed to be curiosity after a moment, probably when the shock had worn off a little bit. he padded closer and stared at the limp man on the floor right next to you, not doing much else other than sitting down. the both of you had no idea what to do clearly.

but while a crazy amount of thoughts were running through your mind, one really stood out to you once it reached the front of your head. if you could take down a grown man, then you could probably do okay in the outside world. it couldn’t be as scary as mother kept talking about, right?

you repeated the thought out loud to jungwon, looking at him instead of the man at your feet. all he did was meow back softly, blinking up at you before walking around the man to inspect him a little more and then walked back to the couch that he’d been sitting on before, curling back up like nothing had happened.

and then you realized that you were going to have to put him somewhere, and you had no idea where that was. at least until your vision swiveled to spot the large wardrobe out of the corner of your eye. there wasn’t much in it anyways, and there was definitely enough room for him.

dragging him over there, on the other hand, was a lot more of a struggle than finding a place to put him. you were huffing and puffing by the first foot you pulled him across the floor, still several to go. that took you a while. and then you remembered that you were going to have to actually get him into the wardrobe. great.

“don’t look at me like that,” you groaned, eyeing jungwon, who was giving you possibly the biggest side eye a cat could manage. “i don’t see you doing anything to help.”

the loud meow he responded with almost seemed to portray a clear message. jungwon was pretty much saying that he couldn’t help. cats weren’t there to help shove grown men into wardrobes.

your grunts of effort filled the tower when you tried many times to fit him into the wardrobe and close the door, finally succeeding when it felt like your arms and legs were about to give out, your breaths coming in short wheezes and little dots beginning to appear at the edge of your vision. thank god that was over.

you stumbled over to the nearest chair and plopped down, exhausted, closing your eyes and letting your shaky arms lie over your head. ugh you were so tired, the minutes passing by quickly as you did nothing but lay there, resting a moment before you started moving around again.

and when you finally felt energetic enough to open your eyes and sit up, something caught your eye that you hadn’t noticed yet.

a brown satchel laid on the floor, right where the man had first fallen when you’d hit him with the frying pan. but it wasn’t the satchel itself that surprised you, it was what was inside. the light was reflecting brightly off of something in it, and when you approached and opened it to find out exactly what the object was, you were confused for a moment.

you took it over to the mirror with you, knowing that it was some type of accessory to be worn, but not quite sure how. first you tried it on your wrist, quickly realizing that it was definitely not the right way to wear it when it dangled loosely from your arm. the only other way that you could think of was putting it on your head.

it laid upon your hair easily, adorning the top of your head with the shining crystals that were on the piece of jewelry. and as you kept looking, you were pretty sure that this was the right way to wear it. but a turn to jungwon had the cat scrutinizing it now, watching you with wide eyes for a long moment before finally shaking his head lightly.

you just shrugged, not really caring about how it was worn now. you were stumped anyways and didn’t want to use any more brain power on it right now. but you did have the perfect hiding spot for it, wanting to keep it hidden just to have a little edge over your new guest.

the bottom stair gave way easily, the wooden plank coming up to reveal a little cavity where you could stash a few things. the satchel was shoved into it quickly before you replaced it, walking back over to the couch with a big sigh.

now you knew that you could handle a surprise like that. perhaps showing mother would even convince her that you could actually handle yourself out there and you weren’t entirely harmless.

and as if you’d just summoned her with your thoughts, you heard that familiar call of her voice.

“y/n! let down your hair!”

this time, you rushed over to the tower door, swinging your hair over the hook and quickly pulling her up into the tower once again. you wanted mother in her best mood to bring up exactly what you wanted to tell her about now.

“oh thank you my dear,” she smiled, giving you one of those light pats on the head like she always did. “much better than how you kept me waiting yesterday.”

you really didn’t think it had been that long. maybe a minute or two, but you knew better than to let any of that out of your mind. you didn’t even know if the things that you were planning on actually telling her would make her agree or get very upset with you.

her basket was placed down and an assortment of natural items were being taken out of it before she spoke again. “oh and y/n, i’m making your favorite potato stew for dinner! an early birthday treat since i found a little patch of good-sized root vegetables while i was out and about.”

a beaming smile popped up onto your face, more of instinct than an actual reaction. sure, you did enjoy eating mother’s potato stew, but you’d much rather have a different present for your birthday. but yet again, you didn’t want to disappoint her when you’d already lagged behind a few seconds before she’d gotten into the tower the last time she’d returned, so your reaction was definitely a lot brighter than it was in your head.

you took a deep breath before you finally spoke, hoping that mother would truly listen to you.

“so i know you said not to bring up the pink lights again,” you held up your hands, frantic for your voice to keep speaking and get to the part that could maybe convince her before the budding emotions in her eyes could come out at you. “but i really think that i can handle myself out there. look there’s something i want to show you…”

“y/n,” the sound of mother’s voice was a little worrisome, a deep and scarily calm tone to it as she stopped you, “i told you to stop talking about those silly lights, and yet you still choose to ignore me. quite frankly, i’m hurt. do you not trust my judgement of the horrible world out there?”

“but mother, i really can handle it, i’ll even show you,” your voice kept going up, you taking rushed steps over towards the wardrobe, ready to pull it open and reveal to her that you indeed could survive going out into the world.

she just clicked her tongue at you, striding over to where you stood, hand loosely grasping the handle of the door. “y/n, i said not to. it’s almost as if you’re ignoring me on purpose over and over again. do you really want to do that to me? i’ve done so much for you, yet this is how you repay me,” all of the things she said hit you hard, really making you remember how much she’d done for you. she’d been the one to raise you and take care of you and make sure that you were fed and had a place to sleep.

you just couldn’t stop wanting to show her the strange man that was hidden just inches away, the thought of even a chance of convincing her that letting you go out to fulfill your dream of seeing the lights that you’d always wanted to. something just kept drawing you closer and closer and whispering into your ear that you had to do it now or it would never happen.

“i promise, i can…”

mother’s eyes changed to something of a kindling rage, likely now furious that you’d continued talking about the lights when she’d told you not to bring them up.

“y/n, i’m very disappointed in you. i’ve raised you to be better than to just blatantly ignore what i’ve asked you so politely to do. if you think that what i say doesn’t matter, then i guess you must be the one to listen to then. is that right? now everyone has to let y/n have her every little whim and can’t help her understand the real danger that the world holds.”

you looked down at the ground in shame, the words coming from mother’s mouth hitting you hard. but that damn desire to go see those lights was even stronger. you just decided that you weren’t going to say anything more and add fuel to the fire, letting your hand slip off the handle to the wardrobe door.

“i don’t know what’s made you like this all of a sudden, but seeming how you think you’re so tough and mighty that you can handle the world now, maybe i should let you go out and discover how wrong you really are to think that i’m so terrible for just wanting to keep you safe.”

even more words like the ones she’d just spoken poured out of her mouth for far longer, making you feel more and more guilty for just not leaving the subject alone like she’d asked kindly of you yesterday. maybe she really was right. maybe the world was a whole lot worse than you’d just imagined.

“i’m sorry mother,” you apologized softly after waiting for her to finish her whole guilt-inducing spiel. “i should have just erased those thoughts from my mind when you asked me to and not brought it up again. i’m sorry for making you so upset, and i hope that your trust in me hasn’t been entirely lost. i promise i’ll do even better at listening to you from now on.”

“oh sweetheart,” she cooed, anger melting from the way that she was holding herself and from her face, instead being replaced by an expression of almost, comfort, although you didn’t look at her face long enough to notice the smug look of success that appeared once she pulled you into her chest for an embrace. “i forgive you. i should have known better than to think that you’d always just keep your thoughts about staying in the tower. now it’s not the greatest time to ask, but what do you want for your birthday darling?” she pulled away, giving you a little look of warning, “and you know that it’s not going to be going and seeing those lights.”

“of course mother!” you eagerly nodded, wanting to please her and get on her good side once more. “how about some more of that white paint that you brought me a while ago?”

she raised her eyebrows in surprise. “well the trip to go get those shells that it’s made out of takes me several days. but i suppose since it’s your birthday, and it’s what you want, i’ll go get some for you sweetheart. as long as you’re okay to be alone here in the tower for that long.”

“i think jungwon and i will be fine mother,” you said with a soft smile, “thank you.”

“oh it’s the least i could do darling,” she exclaimed, embracing you once more. “after all, your birthday only happens once a year.”

jake’s eyes felt heavy as he tried to force them open, blinking slowly as the world came back into his view. he could barely recognize what surrounded him, but a faint little memory of climbing up into the room where he was sitting in was sitting at the front of his brain. but he didn’t remember much after that. just pulling himself up over the windowsill and managing to get a good look at the room before…

clang! the sound of a metal pan hitting the ground brought him back to the last moment that he remembered before waking up here. right. he’d gotten knocked out with one hit to the head from it. but by whom?

a chuckle came from his throat as he could see the figure in the shadows scrambling to pick up what they’d dropped. “having a little trouble?”

“no!” the shadowed person scoffed in an obviously feminine voice, clearly glaring annoyedly at him through the cover of the shadows in the corner of the room. “just stop talking and answer my questions!”

“well alright then,” jake tried to raise his hands, but he couldn’t. and when he looked down to see his arms tied to the arms of the chairs, it alarmed him. “why am i tied up?!”

it was the strange girl’s turn to scoff at him. “maybe because you climbed up into my tower and are a complete stranger that i’m not sure if i can trust yet.”

“fair point,” jake nodded, that charming smile of his appearing on his face. usually it only took a moment for it to work its magic, so he just sat and waited for the girl to cave and come untie him just like he’d imagined moments ago in his head.

“what’s the smile supposed to do?” a sour look appeared on your own face, confused as to what the mysterious man was doing with his expression.

he looked appalled at the question, sputtering embarrassedly as he broke character. “what?! ugh i swear this is the first time it hasn’t worked. why now of all times?!”

his little temper tantrum was funny to you, making you let out a quiet little giggle before you steeled your emotions once more and tried to at least act a little tough in front of your “captive”.

“c’mon, at least come out from those shadows. i should at least be able to see the girl that’s not folding under the splendor of this face.” the man appealed to you, a confident smirk now back on his face. you sighed, deciding that he probably wasn’t going to stop asking, so you might as well save some of your time and mental capacity and patience.

you stepped out into the light slowly, one bare foot coming after the other as you looked up from the ground, eyes meeting the stranger’s in a tension-filled glance.

all jake could think about when he caught a glimpse of what you looked like was that you were pretty like he’d never seen before. no other girl that he’d seen before had quite the look of grace that you did. but he wasn’t just going to downright fall for you and be such a weak man with soft feelings. he was a charming guy that flirted with all girls that he came across. it was just an added bonus for him that you were pretty.

“hi,” he introduced himself. “i’m jake sim, nice to meet you, even in this situation.” his face screwed up slightly as he finished his sentence, looking down at the ropes tying him to the chair that he sat in to gesture to the fact that he was indeed tied to a chair in this moment.

you pursued your lips before telling him your own name, jake continuing to try and charm you with his smile as he complimented your name. his flirting was so obvious that it was painful to you, but at the same time it was just plain funny and validating. you’d never really had anyone talk to you other than mother, so it did make your heart flutter a little bit.

not in an attractive kind of way, you lightly giggled to yourself. you only appreciated jake for his nice comments as a friend. he had broken into your tower after all.

“okay,” he finally said, snapping you out of whatever daze your thoughts had placed you into temporarily. “now what’s it going to take to get me untied and out of this chair, y/n?”

you let out a little snort at that. “who says that’s happening right now?” you weren’t stupid. a random man, who you’d just barely had the beginnings of a conversation with, still wouldn’t be someone that you would just let free as soon as he told you his name.

“oh come on!” he exclaimed, frustrated that he was still tied to the chair. “and seriously, what’s with the cat?”

jungwon, your cat that your mother had gotten you for your thirteenth birthday, just did what he wanted most of the time. right now, he was weaving tauntingly through jake’s legs, meowing as he seemingly flexed the fact that he wasn’t the one tied up.

you expected nothing less of jungwon, who had proved time and time again in the games that you two had played over the years that he’d been in your company. he was one smart cat, and he knew that he was on the side that was in control. you let out a tinkling giggle at the sight, letting your hastily-built walls fall for just a moment before you refocused on the man that he was taunting and put them right back up.

you raised an eyebrow in amusement and curiosity, wondering exactly why he was so on edge about jungwon just circling his legs. well, jungwon could be a little intimidating when he tried to be, even if he was just a fluffy cream-colored cat.

“it’s just jungwon being jungwon,” you laughed lightly, your voice tinkling in a way that made jake’s heart almost a little bit drawn to you and the little glimpses of soft personality behind the face that you’d put on to face him, the stranger in your tower. “besides, you’re in his domain, and more importantly mine, so i don’t think you’re going to have much sway with those attempts at demands.”

now jake wasn’t exactly opposed to staying right here and just looking at the pretty girl standing in front of him, but he figured that he could at least do some appealing to you to maybe convince you to let him out later and to maybe see if you were as enthralled with him as he was with you.

there was just something about you that just kept drawing him in little by little, making him want to be close to you but also just know more about you. he’d never really had an interaction like this before either; all the people he hung around at his age were the scarce roughnecks that barely worked with him in the business of thievery. even when he was growing up in the orphanage, all the girls really didn’t talk to him other than to summon him for his turn at chores.

he wasn’t the only one that kept staring in the silence that neither of you seemed to notice though. you were still sort of glancing back at him, that curious look still popping up on your face for a few seconds at a time before you masked it when you realized that he was looking right back.

you cleared your throat after a long moment, finally wanting to get to business and see why exactly jake had found himself in your tower of all places.

“so, what’s the whole story behind all of this,” you asked with eyes that sparkled with curiosity, turning away for a quick moment to drag another chair to the center of the room where jake sat. if you were going to chat cordially, you were at least going to sit down and be on his level. it might take a little while to hear what he was going to say.

jake’s first instinct was to let out a frustrated groan, but he refrained. something about the way you just seemed to want to know what was going on and how your full attention was on him kept the annoyance about having to explain what was going on at bay, and rather brought eagerness to tell you all about it instead.

“well, it all started when i teamed up with these two guys that i kind of knew from a couple of jobs on and off…” he started, a little hesitant at first to reveal his ways of keeping himself afloat in the kingdom, but still managing to gather the courage to just be honest and put it all out there. “and then we ended up getting spotted right as i grabbed the crown that we were after, so we kinda had to hightail it out of there. let’s just say with this profession you have to think for yourself than the people you’re actually working with, and these guys have always been a little sketchy anyways, so when the guards actually found us, i was halfway up some cliff with the bag that had the crown in it. they didn’t realize until after it all started going down that i’d snatched it from them,” he chuckled, seeming to you as if he was becoming more and more at home in the chair that he was still tied up in. “after that, i was still getting chased by that one bird that’s like the pride of the guard or whatever so i ducked behind a rock and ended up in this little grove with your tower. it was just common sense to climb it.”

the soft smile on your face didn’t fade once as he told his tale, making jake feel just the more at ease. “hmm, that was certainly an interesting tale,” you hummed after a moment’s pause, still managing to somewhat surprise jake with your calm reaction.

he let out what you could describe as a relieved sigh. “thank god you don’t hate me or are disgusted by what i do or whatever. i was so afraid that something would change for the worse after i told you everything.”

to be quite truthful, his heart was still pounding a little bit in his chest, but definitely not as much as it had been in the previous moments. everything was fine and you, the pretty girl standing in front of him, definitely didn’t hate him for what he’d just revealed.

you let out your own little sigh before you spoke, eyes locking on jake’s in an almost pitying glance. “of course i wouldn’t hate you. you don’t seem like you’d hurt me or do anything terrible, so why would i?”

that pulled a small but gracious smile from jake, and you continued after mirroring it back to him. “the outside just seems so cruel, especially if you have to resort to the things that you do just to survive. maybe mother really was right about how awful the outside world is,” you mused, gaze casting off to the side where the beautiful pink stars that you’d longed to see lay painted on the walls.

jake offered you a sad smile. “yeah, the world can be pretty terrible, but sometimes all it takes is a dream to make it even a little bit brighter. it’s just something i’ve gotten used to and i’ve accepted that this is the way that my life is going. i guess yours isn’t too much better either, all stuck in this tower.”

there was just something about what he’d said about dreams that ignited something within you, propelling an idea right to the front of your mind and out of your mouth. “yeah, dreams really do make life seem a whole lot better… and i think i’ve got one that you could maybe help me out with.” you looked at him with gently pleading eyes, conveying the message of the desire to do the one thing that you’d wished for all of your life that you’d never been able to do.

his eyes softened as he understood what you were about to ask of him, jake still listening and watching you attentively as you revealed your own story to him.

“for as long as i can remember, i’ve been in this tower. i’ve never left since all mother talks about is how dangerous the outside world is and how i’d just get hurt the moment i stepped outside. but there is one thing from the outside world that i’ve seen, and those are the stars. for the most part, every day of the year except one, they’re all normal, glowing brightly in shades of white and yellow, but on that one day where they’re not normal, pink stars appear in the sky, floating there for a short time before disappearing into the night. then they’re gone until the next year. i’ve always wondered about them and truly just wanted to go see them even closer than just through the window.”

jake cut in softly, knowing exactly what you were talking about. “those pink stars are actually lanterns. the kingdom puts on this pretty grand festival every year on the lost princess’s birthday to honor her memory, and when night falls, everyone launches special pink lanterns into the sky.”

“really?” you asked, eyes wide in curiosity at the discovery of the fact that those stars weren’t stars at all. “what happened to the princess?”

“i think it was only about when she was a month old, but the princess was stolen from the palace one night and nobody’s been able to find her since. it’s been like eighteen years or something crazy like that,” jake told you with almost a sad tone in his voice.

that sounded like such a horrible thing to you, the little girl being taken from her parents that young and never having been found. your eyes glazed over a bit as you tried to find the positive in the situation. “at least she’s honored with something as beautiful as that. you can tell that her parents still care, even if it’s eighteen years later.”

“yeah,” jake nodded, letting the melancholic feeling air out of the room for a moment before lightening up the subject. “but if you really want to, i can take you to see the lanterns. it’s in a day or two i think, and i know some places that we can lay low to catch a glimpse of them.”

“you would?” you asked, touched at the fact that jake would just take you to accomplish the one dream that you’d had for so long. nobody had ever really offered to do anything like that.

well, it was hard for anyone except mother to do that because jake was the only other person besides mother that you’d even seen or talked to in your life. jungwon didn’t count.

“mhm,” the man confirmed, nodding once more. “you seem to sweet to just leave here and not help you live out your dream.”

that made you blush a little bit, letting out a little giggle before you turned away so jake couldn’t see your flushed face.

“at least, as long as you give me that bag back. i kind of need it to survive in that horrible place that is the outside world.”

once the blush had faded a little bit from your face, you turned back to him, giving jake a little smirk that he found both incredibly cute and attractive. “i’ll see about that.”

“so y/nie, are you ready to finally see the world?” jake asked you, signature smirk yet again pasted onto his lips. “i mean, if we’ve only got so much time before your mom or whoever that lady is comes back, so we might as well make the most of it.”

you smiled back at him, shaking your head a little bit as you thought about just how much jake had made that one facial expression in front of you. if it had come across his face that many times in the short time that you’d talked with him, then who knew how often he did it every day. no wonder those people that he was running away from sounded like they hated him so much.

well, one group did have a pretty good reason and that was him being a thief, but his two accomplices seemed to not be fans of him either. but he did have you to get along with now!

“yeah!” you exclaimed excitedly, heart already starting to pump faster and faster as the blood rushed quickly through your body, eagerness about seeing the outside world outweighing any other worries that had crossed your mind previously. it just felt too good to think about leaving. it’d be okay, you were coming back after all.

“okay,” jake mumbled, looking down around him for possibly a way for him to get down. “but how are we going to–” his voice cut off, shocked when you just swung your hair onto that hook and jumped, locks fluttering around you as your body rushed towards the ground.

but right when you were about to reach the vibrant green grass, you stopped, grabbing onto your hair before your feet could make contact with the ground. it was just so – different. the quietly anxious thoughts returned for a moment to buzz through your head as you thought about it, continuing to just stare as you could hear the faint noises of jake grunting as he climbed down on his own, grumbling under his breath about why he couldn’t have gone down with your hair instead.

“you know,” jake panted, having reached the ground while you were still in your head, wondering if you’d make a good decision for yourself or not. “it’s not going to hurt you, y/n. it’s just grass.”

you took a deep breath, inhaling through your nose as your felt your lungs inflate with the crisp air that surrounded you, no longer cold and stale like it was in the tower. and then you let go, your feet making contact with the lush green grass as you slowly stepped towards jake.

he was watching you with a strange, almost mesmerized look in his eyes, which snapped back to that signature smirk of his once he noticed you staring right back at him. you really didn’t think anything of it. he seemed like such a delightful person, such a shame that he’d had to do the things that he’d done at such a young age to survive.

“see, not that bad, is it?” he asked you, smirk fading to something like a soft smile, a chuckle escaping him as he watched you nod happily and then kneel down into the grass, arms stretching wide as you enjoyed the feeling of the soft grass.

jake kept smiling as you lived out the moments that you’d never gotten to experience yet. you were just too cute to him, bubbly personality and incredible art skills only a few of the admirable things he’d already seen about you. truly, he thought, if it had been any other person in that tower that put him in the exact same situation, he’d be constantly trying to guilt them out of it so that he didn’t have to do much to get his satchel back, but you were different.

he wanted to show you the world that you’d never gotten to see. he wanted to be the one to make you keep smiling brightly and giggling softly, happy with the fact that he’d somehow managed to stumble across the tower and just changed your life entirely for the better. but those were feelings that he just needed to keep inside. jake didn’t want to force anything on you, and the feelings that he was experiencing were probably going to be way too much for someone that hadn’t been outside a tower for their whole life.

and that was okay. he’d much rather you be comfortable with him and stay friends for this short little time than make you uncomfortable for a long time just about the thought of him. other men needed to realize that women were humans too and they deserved the same amount of respect as they did. no wonder why all of the other criminals that jake had chatted with complained about how they could never get a girl to stick around with them.

you let out a loud sigh, arms starfished out from you as you laid in the soft grass. “i had no idea that it was like this out here. mother always said that everything was harmful and you had to be careful to avoid pretty much all of it.”

jake’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at you. “i wonder why she’d say that. yeah, there are some bad things in the world, but they’re very rare and seldom stumbled upon. there are bad people too, but there are more good people than anything.”

he got nothing more than a little shrug back, the acknowledgement of the strange things that your mother had said to make you scared of the world disappearing into your brain behind all of the dopamine that was rushing through your body and mind. it was just so deeply ingrained in your head that she was doing what was best for you, so you really didn’t pay much attention to anything else.

finally, after letting you just take in all that you could see and feel of the world around you for a couple more minutes, jake spoke again, acting as the somewhat reasonable voice between the two of you. “alright y/nie, remember we can only go see the lights if we have enough time to make it to the kingdom. if you think this is amazing, just wait ‘til you see the rest of decelis.”

“right!” you exclaimed, jumping up and skipping over to his side. “let’s go then!”

irene didn’t think anything was out of sorts until she saw the bird.

she’d just been walking along the familiar path that she’d taken before to get to the beach that she’d gotten the white shells that you’d asked for when it flew over her, little harness with a shining medal attached to it.

the reflection of the light off the metallic badge was what had originally gotten her attention, wondering what had just painfully reflected the sunlight into her eyes until she actually saw what had done it. she could recognize that navy blue colored leather and the little sun insignia on the medallion from quite far away. it was a palace bird. and that sharp caw could only belong to the captain’s eagle, known to be even better than some of the high ranked guards.

“y/n,” she let out a gasp. it was flying in the direction of the tower. and the lost princess that lived within it. irene was not going to let them take the one precious thing that she’d taken from them. she was going to stay young forever, and nothing could stop her from doing that. not even a stupid bird.

she tore through the trees, running back across the very path that she’d just been taking her merry time walking along. there was nothing calm or merry about this situation. if that damned bird managed to somehow get past the waterfall and the rock entrance covered in ivy, her whole plan would be spoiled. eighteen long years would come to an end just like that.

irene’s lungs were burning, feet blistering and rubbing against her shoes (which most definitely weren’t meant for doing anything but walking leisurely in), by the time she finally stumbled to a stop at the base of the tower, gray clouds filling the sky almost as if the weather could tell that something was clearly amiss.

“y/n! let down your hair!” she shouted, beginning to panic when there was no answer, no toss of shining hair out the window after a long moment. “y/n!!” her shouts got more and more desperate as the seconds ticked agonizingly by.

all irene could think of was the worst. you clearly weren’t in there. well, there was a small part of her brain that was just hoping that you were just ignoring her or asleep or something, but with the air around her growing more and more tnse, she doubted the fact that those hopes were true.

right, there was a hidden entrance on the other side of the tower, hidden behind piled rocks that hadn’t been mortared in. she’d just go in through there. irene had to find out what was going on and fix it, quickly. she could already feel the wrinkles beginning to return to her face, she thought, a disgusted look appearing on her face, quickly dropping the expression when she remembered that it would just make her appearance worse.

stones tumbled to the ground after irene scrabbled at them for a moment, nails scraping against them as she moved quickly, trying to clear the way to get into the tower as fast as she possibly could. she felt frantic as she pulled and yanked at the rocks until there was a hole in the base of the tower wide enough for her to fit through, then shoving her body into it as she practically ran up the steep stairs that wound up to the top of the tower, legs burning and feet on fire.

irene was panting hard when she reached the top, banging on the tile above the last few stairs until it finally dislodged and shifted to the side to let her in with a loud clatter. and what she emerged into the tower to see worried her immensely.

it was dark, matching the ominously gray atmosphere that the sky had transformed into outside of the tower. and as she rushed through all of the tower, the few rooms and the little hiding spots in every corner of the main room, irene was horrified to discover that you were indeed not here.

her stomach twisted at the thought of her source of youth being lost. if she didn’t find out where you were, she could kiss everything that she’d done to stay looking beautiful goodbye. the painful last eighteen years of having to pretend to like you and be motherly as she raised you “as her own” would be all for nothing.

she let out a frustrated scream that echoed into the empty tower, falling to her knees in frustration and exhaustion and clutching her hands to her face for a moment. but when she dropped them and opened her eyes again, she noticed yet another shining thing, this time coming from a little gap between the first and second stair of the little staircase that lead up to your room.

pulling up the old wooden stair was nothing compared to what she’d had to do to get into the tower a moment ago. it revealed a worn leather satchel, but that wasn’t the interesting thing. it was what the satchel contained that truly caught irene’s attention and made her worry all the much more.

irene pulled a gleaming crown out of the satchel, holding it up to the faint light for a moment before she dropped it in horror, realizing just how bad this could be. if you’d seen this and somehow made the connection between it and you, all of this could be ruined just like that.

but that still hadn’t given her answers to exactly why and how you’d left. she was certain that you wouldn’t have left on your own, so who convinced you to? who did the satchel belong to?

and her question was answered quickly when irene pulled a worn paper out of the satchel, unfolding it to see a wanted poster for one jake sim. a criminal.

now she was just furious. out of all the things you could have done to ignore all the things that she’d instilled as important in your head, you chose to trust a criminal. hadn’t she told you that all people were bad?

none of that mattered now though. she was going to go get you back, irene smiled cruelly at the crown lying on the floor, and she didn’t care what she was going to have to do to make that happen.

“so y/nie, what do you think of the outside world so far?” jake asked, smile tipping the corners of his lips up as he turned to face you as the two of you continued to walk. his eyes were fixed on your face, you thinking that it was just him waiting politely for your response, but he was really just looking for another way to look into your eyes and get lost in them.

you’d been quiet for the last part of your journey, staring at your feet as you kept walking through the shaded groves of thick trees and bushes and tall grass. there just really hadn’t been much to come to your mind to say to jake. it was just the fact that he was next to you, in the peaceful surroundings, that made you feel all the more comforted.

“uhm,” you paused, gentle smile on your face as you looked up into jake’s eyes, getting lost in the honey brown orbs for a long moment, completely oblivious to the fact that jake was doing the exact same thing before you finally backed away from him a little bit and blinked. “it’s definitely a lot different from the tower. very green. almost seems like there’s no other color more than green here.”

that pulled a chuckle from the man walking beside you. “oh trust me, there’s a lot more than just green in decelis. you’ve just got to get there first.”

okay, that made at least a little more sense to you. you guys just weren’t in the place that those magical pink lights came from yet.

but you were still curious. “how much farther is the kingdom away?” you asked, peering up at jake with wide eyes that just seemed to stare even deeper into his soul. he didn’t mind in the slightest. jake would gladly bare all of himself to you if you simply just asked him to.

“oh we’ve still got a little while of walking before we even get to the bridge,” jake sighed, gaze darting around as he faintly recognized the area that you two were passing through. hmm, maybe you’d be able to handle something like that…

“okay then!” the pep in your step seemed to have faded a little bit since you’d first left the tower, adrenaline beginning to slow its rush through your bloodstream, but your voice sounded still as enthusiastic as it had been when jake had first agreed to take you to see the lights.

ehh, jake shrugged to himself. he was sure that you’d be fine…

“with all this walking you sure must be famished!” he burst out, the bubbly tone not anything like you’d expected to hear coming from his mouth. “i definitely am and i know just the place right around the corner where we can make a little refuel stop!”

you were still pretty taken aback by the sudden enthusiasm, so you just managed to nod at first, letting jake grasp your elbow and guide you along limply.

when you finally processed the outburst that you would have only thought you were capable of, that’s when you finally had some sense to be curious about this strangely placed spot to eat that jake had suggested.

“but i have to ask jake,” you started gently, him slowing to a stop to allow you to speak while looking right at him. “why is this place just randomly here in the middle of the forest. don’t you think that’s a little sketchy?”

“sketchy!” he laughed, face scrunching up in delighted amusement as he doubled over, loud cackles escaping from him as you just stood there watching, confused as to why your concern was so funny. “oh please, the gnarly potato isn’t sketchy at all y/nie! don’t worry about it! it’s a great place!”

“okay!” you exclaimed gently. it couldn’t be that bad, could it?

it was in fact, more than that bad, you discovered when you two made it through the old wooden door of the equally old-looking building that was the gnarly potato according to your guide, aka jake.

the stale smell of men and beer permeated the air, sticking to your skin and in your nose like you’d never be able to get rid of it without a bath that was days long in a powerful river. you hoped that it wasn’t the case when you left.

you could tell that jake was able to sense the fact that you’d tensed up a lot, extremely uncomfortable at the raucous environment of the tavern. “hey, relax y/nie. it’s okay. i promise i’m not going to let anything bad happen. it just looks bad but it’s a lot better than you’re thinking right now.” he looped his arm through yours, drawing you up against him to at least offer you a bit more comfort in the new situation and place.

“thank you,” you glanced up at him quickly, tucking yourself further into his side as your eyes crinkled up softly with a brief smile before darting back down to keep your strict watch on what was going on around you. taking note of everything helped too, letting you know of your surroundings and bringing you more comfort alongside the presence of jake.

your heart had just slowed its pounding a little bit when a tall man stepped in front of you two, gruff face startling your heart back into its frightened pace. “sim,” he glowered, gruff voice and staggering figure scaring you as you just clutched jake’s arm closer to you.

“heyyy jungkook,” he smirked, voice lilting up at the end of his sentence like he was being slightly cautious but cockily playful at the same time. “long time no see man.”

“really, i didn’t know that sim,” the scowling man was sarcastic as he continued to glare at jake like he’d personally wronged him.

“well, i’m just here to show y/n here around and introduce her to all of the spots around decelis that everyone has to see.” jake chuckled, still confident as ever. “and then tonight we’re going to go see the pink lights. it’s the whole reason she wanted to go out anyways.”

jungkook looked unimpressed by the shorter man’s explanation. he just continued to stand there among the loud clamor that cut through every molecule of humid air in the tavern.

“isn’t that him?” a man with shaggy black hair sidled up to the intimidating man, holding a worn piece of paper up so that the both of them could see it, glancing at jake in between looks at the paper. a nod and a growing smirk from jungkook sent the shaggy-haired man scurrying off, mumbling something about fetching someone. you could only think of how odd the brief encounter was, not making anything else of it than confusion.

or at least, confusion that only lasted for a little while longer when two more brawny guys approached you two, brutally yanking jake from the tight grasp you had on his arm and holding him up in front of the entire bar.

“he’s mine, i found him first!” one shouted, pulling at jake’s leg as his confident expression had finally faded into a look of fright at being tugged at like a turkey leg between two hungry men. except they weren’t hungry for turkey – their stomachs were growling for the reward money posted at the bottom of the wanted posters that had been plastered all around the kingdom with jake’s face on it.

“no, i’m the one who realized it was him!” the chaos just kept getting louder, one voice drowning out the last and then just continuing on with the arguing. “back off! i need the money, unlike you gluttons.”

and by then, you’d had enough. there was no way that you’d gotten this far and would let things come to an end before you even got to do exactly what you’d left the tower to do.

“everyone stop it!” you shouted, standing on a table that you’d just shakily climbed among the fray of men shouting at each other and continuing to pull at jake. “put him down and leave him alone! i need him!”

miraculously, it worked. the pulling and tugging on jake ceased to a standstill and he remained just held in the air now, everyone frozen while their eyes had turned to you.

“the only reason that i’m here right now is because of him. i’ve never left the tower that i live in, and he’s the one that helped me to see the world outside of it.” your voice cracked faintly, your emotions fueling the passion of the message that you were trying to convey. “it’s my one and only dream to see those pink lights, and he’s going to take me to do so. if you rip him apart like ruffians, i can’t accomplish the one thing that i really hope to do.”

you were expecting something, anything else than what actually happened after your outburst. definitely not anything like what actually happened.

“fine,” one of the bargoers with brassy blonde hair that darkened to a brown at the ends grumbled, “put him down but still keep an eye on him.”

the smile that had vanished when you first walked in finally bloomed back across your face. “thank you,” you sighed breathily, incredibly grateful that you were lucky enough to have been listened to.

“of course sweetheart,” that same man offered you a kind smile for the gruff personality that you’d seen from him so far. “everyone should be able to live out their dreams, especially you from what it sounds like.” a dreamy look appeared in his eyes. “i’ve always yearned to dance in front of the kingdom and share a message through the moves, so i know exactly how you feel.”

another man stumbled up beside him, eyes wide in a way that you could only see as spaced-out and kind of adorable. his blue hair looked almost black when the light hit it right as he spoke with a shining smile. “oh i’ve wanted to go and row boats during all of the little festivals and be the moodmaker when a couple’s trying to have one of those fancy romantic moments and i’ll be the best boat paddler decelis has ever seen…”

you giggled at him as he continued on for a moment more, even more details about helping people to share meaningful moments and just rowing boats along spewed from his mouth. this was honestly so heartwarming – the fact that the men who’d been intimidating at first had now opened up and shared their softer sides with you because you’d been bold enough to share yours first.

“doesn’t anyone care enough to ask me about my dreams?” jake chuckled nervously, wanting the attention but also to get let down from where he was hanging from a hook on the wall by his jacket.

“can it pretty boy,” the bronze-haired man scowled at him once more. “it’s hers that matters.”

jake fell quiet again after that, actually listening to what the other people were saying for the first time. but the pub didn’t stay quiet for long after that.

“i got one of the guards!” the shaggy black-haired man had returned, chest heaving as he worked to take in the air that he’d used up while running off to fetch one of the palace soldiers.

“shit,” the bronze-haired man mumbled. “hurry, get sim and her over here with me.” he gestured you over to a spot behind the bar where all of the taps were, pulling on one as some of the others distracted the guard for you two.

turns out it had been good that you’d revealed your dream and why jake didn’t need to be turned in, because otherwise it looked like he would have ended up hauled back to the kingdom to a jail cell while all of the bargoers argued and brawled over who’d keep the reward money.

a tug on a tap that had a potato on it revealed a hidden passage behind the bar, wood thankfully creeping open without any noises that would give you two away.

“thank you,” you whispered to the man, climbing carefully into the passage after jake.

“of course sweetheart. go live your dream.” he smiled at you one last time before the gruff look was once more sealed onto his face and the passage door creeped to a close. now you two were on your own once more.

“we’ve got to go, now.” the first words that came out of jake’s mouth right after the passage door had shut behind the two of you were sharp, filled with concern and haste that was just reflected more so when you looked up into his eyes.

your heart was beginning to pound again, feeling like it had been put to good work over all of your nerves and discomfort from your first impressions of the tavern that you two had just snuck out of. and as the two of you looked ahead, assessing the tunnel that laid beyond, waiting to be taken to safety, your breaths began shortening, pulling little puffs of oxygen into your lungs in quick succession.

you could see nothing but dull shades of brown from the carved-out tunnel, supported with wooden beams that looked almost as old as you with how worn they were. some were even beginning to splinter at a concerning level, which sent a little pang of doubt at whether or not this was exactly the safest thing to be doing to your chest, but you ignored it. everything you’d done with jake so far was a little bit dangerous, and you’d learned quickly to use it to your advantage.

that little bit of risk that laid within everything had taught you that you could do things that you hadn’t even thought you were capable of. hell you hadn’t even thought of the existence of some of the things that you’d seen before today.

and you were doing all of this for your dream. you and jake were going to go see the pink lights that you’d yearned after for so many years of your life up in that tower. there was no way that you were going to back away from that just because of some old wood in a tunnel.

“alright, cmon,” jake whispered, taking your hand and pulling you along in a rushed walk. his neck kept snapping behind the two of you and then back, swiveling to keep a close watch on whether or not any of the guards had found the tunnel and entered it to follow you two and capture him.

you knew it was always good to be more safe than sorry, so you sped up your own pace, jake speeding up next to you to match you in a swift jog. the faster you two could get to the end of this tunnel, the better chance that you’d have of escaping with your guide.

but a little voice in your head whispered about the possibility of the guards meeting you two at the end, having found out from the bargoers, either unwillingly or with a betrayal of you two. you silenced it as you kept running, continuing to convince yourself that you two were going to get away and that the kind men in the bar that had warmed up to you after talking about your dream wouldn’t betray your and your chance of seeing those lights. they had to have some heart within them.

jake inhaled a swift breath beside you, having turned his head to catch a glimpse of the ground that you two had just run over and left behind. the action confused you for a moment, wondering if he’d just tweaked something until you heard it. the quiet thundering of feet that kept growing louder and louder by the second. they’d found the tunnel.

“shit.” jake’s grip tightened on your hand, speeding up once more as your legs began to struggle to keep up with the pace that he’d taken up. it was just because he had longer legs, your shorter ones feeling like they were now working overtime just to keep up and not be yanked off your feet. that would be bad.

“we found them!” a guard shouted behind the two of you, catching a glimpse of your silhouettes as you kept running through the dark tunnel, light from their lanterns reflecting on the packed dirt walls. the tunnel had straightened out by now, the curves and turns that had guarded you two from being seen until now in the rest of the tunnel no more.

both of your chests were heaving as you ran, feet pounding as hard as they could against the dirt as you kept going, hoping and praying that you could make it. “we’ve just got to keep outrunning them by a little bit,” jake encouraged you. “i think we’re almost there.”

and jake was right about that. as you two kept passing through in escape of your pursuers, you suddenly saw a bright light at the end of the tunnel that hadn’t been there until now. it was the end.

but when you two finally burst through the last wooden frame, into the light of the open world once more, something seemed wrong. it was almost too easy. was there really nobody here? did nobody find out where the tunnel let out at the opposite of the gnarly potato?

“long time no see sim.” a deep voice cut in from behind you two, two men standing in the shadows of a hidden corner just to the side of the tunnel exit. “except, i don’t think you wanted to see us again. too bad.”

jake paled next to you, hand going clammy before he let go of yours, body stiffening as he turned to face the mysterious men. “boys, boys, don’t worry i was going to come find you again, i just needed a little time to hole up by myself.”

“oh really?” the dark-haired one asked, angered sarcasm obvious in his voice. “a little birdie told me that you just ran off to take the crown for yourself. and right now that seems like exactly what happened.”

it all seemed like a blink of an eye when everything exploded into even more chaos. the guard poured out of the tunnel, having finally reached the end of it right when the two men had leaped at jake, likely intending to harm him for running away.

and all you could do was just stand and watch, frozen in fright as jake swiped up an extra sword that had been knocked from the hand of a soldier, raising it to block blows from both the guard and the two men who claimed that he’d wronged them.

you had to do something, right? your heart kept pounding like it was about to pump right out of your chest, breaths sharp and shaky as you continued to panic a little bit as you surveyed all of what was going on around you.

oh, right! you’d brought along the frying pan that had been used to start all of this. maybe it could help you now to keep things going.

“jake!” you shouted, getting his attention quickly before tossing him the cast iron pan, having lost his sword only moments ago to one of the horses, who was oddly being guided by an eagle rather than a rider. the thought of a bird who could do that frightened you a little bit frankly, but thinking about anything else than escaping right now would just hinder you.

several more minutes passed by as you stood frightened in a corner, just watching as swords continued to clash (and funnily when you’d look back on it, jake with his frying pan). but then you saw it, exactly what you were looking for– an opening in the fray for you two to make your escape.

you broke into a swift sprint, bare feet clapping against the tall rock formation that the tunnel had let out upon, hair already being gathered into your arms as you kept going. jake caught onto what you were doing moments before you reached him, smirking at his opponents before grabbing onto your waist and running with you as you two jumped.

your hair caught on one of the wooden poles that was keeping a series of water troughs held up, allowing the two of you to swing away towards another wooden-framed opening in the rock on the other side of the canyon.

the air whipped through your hair and across your face, you smiling at the feeling for the short moment that you two remained in the air before landing hastily on your feet, already breaking into a run by the time that everyone you’d left behind up on the first rock formation processed exactly what had just happened.

all of the soldiers had broken into a rush to try and find a way down, to stop you two from getting to that other tunnel, completely forgetting about the other two men that snuck back into the shadows, fury raging in their eyes about losing their chance at full revenge on jake for all that he’d done to them yet again. they still vowed to get back at him, no matter what it took to do so. nobody wronged bangchan and felix and got away with it.

but at this point, that eagle that you’d been rather curious about, worried when you’d noticed all that it could do, was tired of all of the soldiers continuing to be the incompetent fools that they always were. jay was the prized bird of the captain of the royal guard for a reason, and it didn’t surprise most that had seen him in action that he did better than most of the human members of the guard.

he cawed at the horse he had perched himself on, flapping up into the air to convey the exact message of what he was asking it to do. thankfully this one was pretty competent, so it went right on about obeying.

it only took a couple of thundering kicks to one of the tall rock columns that sat propped right next to the formation that they were all on before it fell exactly in the direction that jay had wanted it to. they couldn’t get away and into the tunnel if it got blocked off by a huge slab of rock.

the really odd thing was though, fate seemed to really love and hate you and jake at the same time. by some miraculous boost of adrenaline and energy, the two of you barely made it past the old wooden threshold of the tunnel before the gigantic pillar of rock came crashing down, effectively trapping you two inside. but it also took the water troughs down too, them crashing down and spilling huge waves of water as a deep creaking could be heard from the dam behind you, horrifying when you two realized that the wooden wall that was holding all of that water back had just entirely collapsed.

at first it didn’t scare you, just standing there and staring at the rock that had almost crushed you while catching your breath for a moment finally, the adrenaline wearing off as rapidly as it had come on.

but then you turned and saw a pile of large gray rocks instead of a tunnel like you two had expected.

“hey hey, i’m sure it’ll be okay,” jake tried his best to assure you, an equally terrified look on his face. and then just like you, he sort of broke from the fright. “oh god wait that whole tidal wave of water is going to come in here and we can’t get out…”

oddly enough, you’d just become the calm one. “jake, hey, look at me. i promise we can make it out of here.”

“but can we? we’re going to drown if we can’t get those rocks moved…” his eyes lit up with a realization. “wait we should have been trying to dislodge them the whole time!”

fingers scrabbled against the rocks, some smooth and some jagged, the two of you trying to find a way out of having water seep into your lungs and choke you in your last moments.

none of it was working, you realized to your horror when none of the rocks budged, the water beginning to fill the small tunnel rapidly.

“ugh we just need to get out of here!” jake’s tone was frantic, hissing out a curse when he sliced his palm open on the sharp edge of one of the rocks he was pulling at.

but at this point, your hope was getting lower and lower. at least until you realized one last thing right before the water swallowed you two.

there was no shame or bashfulness in doing it now, the words to the incantation that you’d said so many times beginning to bubble through your lips underwater, igniting that glow in your hair that always happened when you sang. jake’s eyes widened in shock at the sight, but they quickly turned to where the strands were floating to a little gap between the rocks, the two of you now frantically pulling and tugging until that little gap turned bigger. the air in your lungs was growing stale, bubbling out of your mouths as the rocks tumbled away, pulling you two through the tunnel now with a strong suction of water.

it was the last thing you remembered before you blacked out, vision fading as your consciousness waned alongside jake’s.

bangchan and felix were furious when they finally managed to escape the flood of waters that had been let loose when the dam was brought down by that cursed palace bird, soaked to the bone and clothes dripping as they dragged themselves along, cursing jake sim the entire time.

they’d been far too foolish to trust someone like him. people with that bright, charming air to them like jake exuded really were the most likely to just up and leave or simply screw something up. next time, they’d be going for him, not with him.

but the one thing the two men weren’t expecting was the old woman that walked up to them, hood pulled low until she swept it down in a dramatic air.

“i thought you two were never going to take a break,” she smirked up at them, voice purring sensually with each word as she held a worn brown satchel on one finger out in front of them. and it was a worn brown satchel that looked very familiar now that they thought about it.

“who are you?” bangchan demanded, not sure whether to be startled, amused, or curious about the purpose that the woman had for following them. “and why are you following us? you know we are dangerous, right?” a predatory smile appeared across his face, trying to intimidate the woman to get a quick answer out of her.

all she did was laugh at him though, felix and bangchan exchanging even more confused looks. “oh please boys, i’m not here to threaten you. i’m here to help you.”

“help us with what?” felix couldn’t help but give into the curiosity as to exactly what the woman was talking about now.

“why catching jake sim of course! he has something of mine with him and i’d like it back.” the slowly-simmering anger now began to shine faintly through the confident face that she was wearing, revealing the true motive for “helping them”.

“and why exactly should we help you get what you want? what’s in it for us?” bangchan asked gruffly, the desire for revenge outweighed by the dislike of the thought of simply doing someone else’s bidding like slaves.

it was clearly the question that the woman had wanted them to ask, that sly smile tugging again at her lips. “oh the crown of course! i have it right here.” she reached into the satchel and pulled it out, the fading light making faint reflections through the crystals at the center of the crown.

“so we get it after we get sim and whatever thing of yours you want back so badly,” felix assumed, expecting what any other person who was asking them to do something for pay would say.

“you two can have it right now!” the woman smirked at them again. “i trust that your revenge will help you seek him out even more swiftly.”

the two men glanced at each other one more time, conveying a silent message through their eyes before bangchan turned back to the woman. “alright then. we’ll see you again when we find him.”

you burst out of the water, lungs burning as you threw yourself onto the side of the riverbank, coughing and sputtering as water came back up through your lips, having been only a moment away from being choked out of life with all of it. jake was a couple of yards away from you up on the riverbank as well, in pretty much the same condition that you were.

by the time the two of you had rid your lungs of all the water that shouldn’t be there and rolled over to finally take a deep breath full of precious oxygen, you two were about ready to take another hour-long nap. you were just so tired and your body was exhausted.

the light was already beginning to fade with the sunset, warm colors blooming across the horizon as you two sort of just laid there, looking at each other with the reverence that only surviving something that crazy together would give you.

at least you two had been able to dry off somewhat by the time night fell, bringing about that chill that even occurred in the dead of summer. it would have been a nightmare if you’d remained soaking wet and had died of hypothermia after luckily surviving the chance of drowning.

“come on, you can do it,” jake mumbled under his breath in front of you, kneeling beside the little firepit that you two had made to keep yourselves warm. it made you giggle lightly, quiet enough where you were the only one that heard it.

it only took a minute or so more before jake had a spark going among the little structure of twigs that he’d set up meticulously, dropping to his knees to blow on it some more until it roared into a fully-fledged fire. the embers were already crackling as you held your hands up closer to the flames, sighing happily when you already felt the chill in your fingers melting away.

“thank you jake,” you smiled at him sweetly, grateful for all the work he’d done to get the fire set up and going.

“of course princess!” he bounded back over next to you, dropping down and taking a seat on the ground beside you. “and call me jaeyun.”

you were surprised for a moment when he said it, confused as to why now and why you that he’d chosen to ask to address him like that. “oh okay. what brings that on?” you asked, simply curious about the name.

he offered you another smile, a softer version of that confident smirk that he’d worn when you two had first met. “that’s my real name. at the orphanage i just kind of got tired of people yelling at me with it, so i started going by jake. now it’s sort of just reserved for special people.”

your eyes softened in sympathy for him. “aw jaeyun, that’s so horrible. i’m so sorry you had to go through all of that. how many other special people are there to know the real you? i’m not meaning to pry or anything i just…”

“no it’s okay y/n! it’s not anything you could have controlled or changed, and if it had been any different, i’m not sure that i would have met you.” he gazed into your eyes, your gaze reflecting right back. “and just for the record, it’s just you princess.”

something in your chest panged at his words, not having felt anything like you were feeling before. it felt like butterflies were fluttering about in your stomach, your heart burning with a warmth like the fire in front of you. this was the first time you’d truly felt loved and cared for.

“hey,” you smiled up at jake, eyes swimming with happiness. “do you want to see something cool?”

“i mean sure,” he shrugged. “but can it beat the glowing hair?”

come to find out a few minutes later, it would indeed be a lot cooler than just the glowing hair.

your hair tickled jake’s palm as you wrapped the ends of it around his hand, concealing the angry red cut that he’d gotten earlier when you two were trying your best to escape the flood of water from the broken dam.

“so what’s this supposed to do exactly?” jake asked you hesitantly, a little confused why your hair needed to get wrapped around his injured palm for something cool.

“all you’ve got to do is stay still and relax jaeyun,” you soothed him with a soft stroke of your hand on his arm. “i promise nothing bad’s going to happen. it’s just going to be really good.”

“okay,” he nodded with a sigh, giving you the go-ahead to do whatever you were going to show him. “i trust you y/nie.”

the words of the incantation that you’d sung just hours ago began to flow from your lips softly, sweet voice just drawing jake into yearning for you even more. sure, it had been the crown at first, but now, he could only look at and think of you.

your hair began to glow and shimmer faintly, becoming brighter than it had been underwater the first time that jake had seen it, seeming to almost glow warmer around his palm, which was now being tickled by that warmth for some strange reason.

internally, jake was sort of freaking out, only because it was a whole new thing that he had no idea what was going on, but he really did trust you, so he kept calm on the outside, breathing through his thoughts to dissipate them as you finished singing, the glow fading from your hair as quickly as it had ignited.

and then the real shock came when you delicately unwrapped the strands of hair from around jake’s hand, his eyes widening when he noticed that any sign of the cut had just been erased, almost like it had never happened.

his eyes stayed fixed on his now-unblemished palm, mouth hanging slightly open at the sheer surprise and wonder at the fact that you’d just healed him with your hair. the thought was just too much to process that quickly for him.

“you good jaeyunie?” you blinked, fluttering your eyelashes as you peered at him in sweet concern. “see, wasn’t that pretty cool?”

“cool?!” jake finally snapped out of his shocked stupor, setting his hands on your shoulders as he enthusiastically spoke. “more like incredible! i can’t believe you just healed me–with your hair.”

you blushed, flattered by the compliment and a little bashful from the physical contact. “thank you! i’m glad i could be of help!”

jake didn’t say anything, his face slowly inching closer to yours as the two of you stared deeply into each others eyes, entranced by the moment. he almost got close enough for your lips to touch, but you just startled all of a sudden, breaking the moment awkwardly.

the two of you laughed it off for a moment, you embarrassed at how you’d just broken the heavy moment of chemistry between the two of you. jake said something about needing more firewood, so he left you to go off and collect some, telling you that he’d be back shortly.

the forest was quiet as you just sat there, listening to the occasional crackle of sparks peacefully until a voice that you thought you wouldn’t hear for another couple of days cut through the silence.

“y/n!” mother gasped behind you, rushing up behind you and tugging you to your feet. “come along now dear, let’s go home and forget about this whole mess with the thief.”

“it’s fine mother!” you insisted nervously, trying to squirm out of the grasp that she’d taken your hand in. “he’s not bad at all, in fact several people i’ve met out here aren’t evil and nobody eats other people!”

“oh sweetheart,” she just sighed, turning to you and taking both of your hands in hers. “he’s just practically brainwashed you. all people out here are only doing things for themselves. all he wants is the crown.”

“no,” you shook your head, insistent on the memories that you’d gained over the past day being genuine. “he wants to take me to see the lights and i really have enjoyed going on this journey with him..”

mother’s voice turned dark, almost malicious. “oh, so you think he’s in love with you. i hate to break it to you darling, but he’s not. all he wants is the crown and the money that comes with it. why don’t you give it to him and see. really, you should just listen to me and come back home before he hurts you.”

“no,” your voice echoed sharply through the little clearing. “i want to go see the lights with him. he’s not like that.”

“okay then,” mother’s face soured. “if you think you know best, then go ahead, do what you want. just don’t come crying back to me when he leaves you.”

jake was still half-asleep when he began to hear an incessant cawing, grumbling lightly under his breath for it to stop so that he could go back to sleep. in no world did he want to be fully awake right now. the ground was surprisingly comfortable to sleep on here.

he’d almost gotten fully back into the dream world when a sharp peck nipped his arm, making jake swat irritatedly at what was biting him. and the pecks didn’t stop during all of this ruckus– they just got more and more frequent and a lot more painful.

“ugh stop it!” he finally shouted, voice still thick with sleep as he opened his eyes right as his fingers collided with the thick feathers of an eagle. “leave me alone!”

the bird did not take that well. it went for his face next, sharp beak going right at him as jake scrambled back, holding his hands and arms in front of his face to protect himself from the crazy creature.

all of this had woken you up, hearing jake’s cries of protest against the bird’s attacks on him. you sat up slowly at first, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, not having realized that jake was literally getting attacked by a pretty big bird. but once you realized, you rushed into action, not hesitating for a moment before jumping right between jake and the eagle right before it was about to fly in for another strike.

“okay both of you, cut it out,” you said in a stern voice, looking both of them in the eyes as they both returned your gaze with confused and stunned looks. even the bird looked surprised that you’d just impulsively jumped right in front of it as it was about to keep attacking its prey. “you need to stop acting like this, because i don’t know why it needs to be taken this far.”

jake took a step back, holding his hands up in somewhat of an attempt to keep the encounter peaceful now that you’d intervened. “alright, alright. but this bird’s gotta stop attacking me. i promise i didn’t do anything.”

said bird looked as if it almost raised an eyebrow in doubt at what jake had just said, getting a little giggle out of you before you squashed it down and put the serious look back on your face, still wanting to be in control of mediating the situation.

you looked at the bird more closely now, noticing that there was a little engraved buckle on the harness that it was wearing, so you cautiously stepped forward, reaching out slowly with a hand to get a closer look while still being gentle and respectful of the bird’s space like how anyone should be of an animal. even people needed their own space and to be treated well too.

“jay,” you read the eagle’s name off its tag out loud. “well it’s nice to meet you jay,” you addressed the bird, offering him a little smile.

he dipped his head back at you, letting out a calm little caw that you were pretty sure meant that he liked you or just didn’t mind you or something. it didn’t really matter as long as he wasn’t attacking jake anymore or you.

a delicate sigh escaped you next, cutting the tension that was beginning to grow back between jake and jay. “so the thing is, i need him to take me to see the pink lights that are going to be in the sky tonight. it’s been my dream for so long and he’s been ever so kind enough to take me, so i really would appreciate it if you didn’t kill him or take him in for whatever he did or stole.”

jay just sort of stared back at you as you talked to him, beady eyes blinking calmly as you explained the situation. “but i promise, tomorrow, you two can clash all you want. would you please just give me today?”

he remained perched on the little branch that he’d landed on when you’d broken up him and jake, seeming to contemplate your request for a long moment before he finally nodded again.

“oh thank you so much! it really means a lot to me and i’m so grateful that i’m getting this opportunity to live out my dreams.” you clapped your hands together in delight, spinning around with a joyful smile on your face.

your enthusiasm brought a smile to jake’s face, still wary of jay on the inside but mainly focused on you and how you almost seemed to glow like your hair had last night when you became happy about something. it almost felt like you’d become the light in his otherwise dim life of barely scraping around, having to steal just to be able to eat a meager meal.

“alright then boys!” you started skipping off in the direction of the kingdom that jake had pointed out the night before. “let’s go check out this festival before the lights tonight!”

you were the one leading the way the entire walk to the bridge that lead to the little island that the kingdom of decelis laid on, pace a happy skip that never let up. the enthusiasm flowing through your veins didn’t stop for a second, masking any sort of energy drain that might have hit you after doing something like that for so long.

but behind you, the tension was back, jay and jake making all sorts of faces at each other while quietly clashing, respecting your wishes of no fighting, but barely. it was hard enough for them to be in the same space, let alone right next to each other as they accompanied you to the place where seeing your dream would come true.

and there it was, you realized when the three of you finally cleared through the last of the forest on the mainland that one had to travel through to get to the kingdom itself, spotting a large, cream-colored cobblestone bridge that created a path right over the dark blue water to decelis in all of its splendor.

“oh this is all so wonderful!” you exclaimed, smile growing even bigger by the second as you took it all in. the decorations that adorned the kingdom for the festival shining in red silk with a bright yellow flower at the center of every banner.

while you pranced around happily though, jake was busy trying to gather up the hair that trailed behind you, attempting to help keep it from getting stepped on and yanking on your scalp.

by the time that you three had fully crossed the bridge into the kingdom, already stepping into a large square full of celebrating people, jake’s arms were fully of soft, shiny hair, following you closely.

“hey girls!” his eyes stopped on a group of kids that were sitting around braiding each other’s hair with delightful giggles. “do you want to take on a bigger project?” he gestured to all of your hair that he was holding, smiling as he watched their eyes light up with excitement, scrambling over to you three.

and they worked insanely quickly too, taking a mere ten minutes to get all of your hair braided perfectly with little flowers tucked into each little strand. you couldn’t stop spinning around and admiring their work, sending each of them off with little hugs and waves.

“aww aren’t they so precious?” you cooed to jake, watching them run off with a soft smile on your face.

“yeah, they really are.” he responded, but he wasn’t watching them go off, he was looking right at you, watching your eyes soften in admiration at their pure excitement about doing something so simple.

before either of you could say anything else, you were both dragged off with a yelp by different people to join in on the dancing that had merrily started up, people clapping along as others danced and swung their partners around swiftly.

you couldn’t do anything but laugh joyfully as you spun around with a random man, living gleefully in the lively spirit of the festival and the instruments that were being played passionately with cheers and claps escaping those watching. but your eyes weren’t focused on the man that you were dancing with. they were locked on jake, dancing along to the festive music with a random woman.

he looked up too, locking eyes with you and offering you a big smile, eyes and heart growing warm for both of you as you saw the other having a good time just letting the music flow through you and dancing along.

but as the music grew quicker and quicker, people dancing around each other even swifter, partners began passing hands, spinning each other off to a new partner. and right when it was yours and jake’s turn, you two spun right into each other, hands interlacing as you two collided, pausing for a moment to look into each other’s eyes even more as your chests heaved up and down from all of the lively dancing.

your feet moved along with his, easily finding a rhythm that matched each other and the music, not breaking eye contact for even a moment. the crowd eventually faded to a light buzz, the two of you almost in your own little world as you moved as one.

you broke apart hesitantly when the music ended, shattering the barrier between you two and the rest of the world just a tiny bit, but not breaking it completely, you and jake still holding hands and walking right next to each other as you two and jay went on your way through the rest of the kingdom to check out all of the other parts of the festivities before the sun set.

all of it was such a great experience, the different stalls with all sorts of little neat crafts and foods, the many musicians playing their instruments all along the streets, but the thing that strangely stood out the most was the little memorial dedicated to the lost princess, who the whole festival had been created in memory of.

it was something about how her eyes were such a distinct color, one that you were positive that you’d seen before, as well as the sheen of her hair that had been brought to life through the large mosaic of her and the king and queen. you just couldn’t put your hand on why, but it was something that you felt like you’d seen before, and not just a glimpse, like fully looked at several times.

you just shrugged after a moment more of looking at it, turning to jake ready to find out what you two would be off to go see next. if you couldn’t remember why, then it must not be too important.

“here, let me give you a hand y/nie,” jake smiled, taking your hand in his as he helped you into the little boat that he’d gotten for you two to watch the pink lights in. “we’ll get a fantastic view of all the lanterns from here!”

“why thank you kind sir,” you teased playfully, smiling brightly as you took your seat across from him, fixing your eyes on the center of the kingdom. you didn’t want to miss any part of the lights.

time seemed to slow down around you two, just resolidifying that little bubble around you both as you continued to watch the skyline for the pink lanterns while jake watched you, his love for you growing by the minute as he watched your entranced face, gazing off into the sky and waiting for your dream to come true.

and it did a few moments later, the faint pink glow of the first little group of lanterns behind launched into the sky, your eyes growing even wider in awe as they drifted slowly across the sky, followed by waves upon waves of more of them, filling the sky with the beautiful radiating pink light.

jake let you stare a little while longer before catching your attention in a soft tone, smiling at you as he showed you the two lanterns that he’d gotten you two to launch for yourselves.

your smile of delight made it all worth it and even more, eagerly taking yours with gentle hands and watching jake as you both lifted your lanterns into the sky, sending them to float among all of the others.

“so is it everything you dreamed of?” jake asked with a soft chuckle, taking your hands in his gently, the touch comforting and making your smile even wider.

“absolutely!” you replied with a dazed tone. “thank you again for doing all of this for me, it’s so beautiful.”

“of course,” jake squeezed your hands lightly, thumbs running softly over the backs of them. “but not as beautiful as you.”

you flushed at the compliment, heart fluttering while your hands remained intertwined. and then you leaned forward, letting your actions speak for your words as your lips pressed to his, eyes fluttering closed as jake laid his arms gently around you, leaning into the kiss himself.

you two pulled away after a long moment, both letting out a relieved laugh before leaning back in for another. tonight had truly been the most special one of your life. it felt so good to be loved.

“i hope it’s okay if i say that i’ve sort of been in love with you for a majority of this trip,” jake confessed softly. “i’ve never felt this way, but i know that it’s something that i want to keep alive.”

you smiled, in agreement entirely. “i think i fell for you too jaeyun. and i hope that this moment never ends.”

“it’s time to wake up princess,” jake nudged your shoulder gently, trying to pull you from your dreams so that you two could leave on time to get back to the tower.

you reluctantly sat up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you mumbled an okay and sat there for a moment longer before finally getting to your feet and yawning as you stretched your arms behind you.

it was a very early morning at that, but you were the person that had asked to head out so early just in case, so you weren’t going to complain. not when you had the chance to talk with jake more on the journey back.

“ready to get going,” he asked with a loving smile, staring into your eyes like he’d never get to see them again if he looked away. you two had just grown that much more fond of each other in the last day.

you reached out to take his hand, stepping in front of him on your tiptoes to leave a quick little peck on his lips. “yep, i’m ready!” he just kept staring at you with flushed cheeks and a dorky smile for a moment before he realized that he needed to move.

the two of you began your journey back to the tower hand in hand, chatting about many different little random things as the cobblestones of the winding streets in the center of decelis gave way to the exposed cream-colored stone of the open air of the bridge that lead back to the mainland, where you’d spend a majority of your day together walking alongside one another through the dense forests until you reached the tower.

it was truly so early that it seemed like no other soul was alive here in the dark morning before the sun had even begun to think about rising. in a sense, it was almost like that little bubble that had formed around the two of you yesterday during all of the festivities had spread across the kingdom, letting you two just live together in your own little moment forever.

you’d just stepped off the bridge, officially now back on the mainland, before jake said something in a soft dreamy tone to you, one that you’d only heard over the last day or so when he was talking to you and you alone. “y/n, i hope you know that i’m so grateful to have someone to love me and understand me for who i really am. it means the world that you didn’t judge me for the things i had to do in order to survive in the world, and you’re quite possibly the only light that i’ve ever had in my life.”

that brought tears of pure joy and love to your lash line, welling up but not falling. “jaeyun, as ironic as it might be that you were the first person i met from the outside world, i’d be perfectly fine not knowing or meeting anyone else. you helped me accomplish my dreams and i actually feel so loved for the first time in my life. i don’t know how life would be if you hadn’t climbed up in that tower.”

“aww, well isn’t that just so sweet,” a voice that you’d heard only once or twice before cut in, still recognizable enough to send a chill down your spine. “too bad your little fling isn’t going to last much longer.”

“felix, bangchan,” jake grumbled, eyes already showing the fury of a man whose love had just been threatened. “what the hell do you want?”

“oh that’s an easy question sim,” bangchan chuckled darkly, sending your stomach into knots as you clutched jake’s arm in fright. “we want her.”

jake spat back at them. “fuck no, you’re not taking her anywhere.” he gently guided you behind him, effectively shielding you from their gaze and any attempts to grab you from where you stood next to him.

felix smirked at the two of you, almost as if he was amused at jake’s reaction. “last time i checked, you weren’t going to have a say in the matter.”

“please, i can give you anything else or help you get anything else, hell you can even have the crown back,” jake tossed the satchel that you’d given him last night out of faith towards them, the crown spilling out of it when it landed at their feet.

“hmm,” bangchan tilted his head, acting like he might have been considering the option, but it quickly became obvious that he was just toying with the two of you, like a cat playing with a mouse. “a little birdie told us that she’s worth a lot more than just a crown, so i’m afraid i’m going to have to pass you up on your offer sim.”

he raised a hand to the man standing next to him, a signal that you two very quickly learned meant to take care of the two of you.

before either of you could move to avoid it, the dark-haired man snatched you around the waist, yanking you up into his hold, squirming and protesting as the blonde man stalked towards jake, making quick work of knocking him to his feet and then slamming the butt of his sword into jake’s head, knocking him out amidst your screams of protest.

“no jake!!” you cried, voice going shrill as you were carried away into the night, the two men leaving jake’s body crumpled, unconscious on the beach shore. “let me go! get your hands off me!”

but as the two men carried you through the fog, a figure standing there in a familiar cloak surprised you.

“y/n dear, oh i’m so sorry it had to come to this darling, but i couldn’t think of any other way to save you from that criminal,” she looked into your eyes with a disguised look of fake concern. you knew better than to think she was concerned about anything other than herself.

“i didn’t need saving from him!” you shouted, rage finally erupting from you at being taken from jake’s side like this. “i think, rather, i needed saving from you, and he did exactly that.” your tone turned venomous, tired of being taken advantage of and thought of as a fool.

the look on her face turned stone cold instantly. “fine. if you want to be that way then be that way y/n. come along now boys, we have a new tower to journey to.” she turned to you, tapping you on the nose with a scowl that you weren’t used to coming along with the action. “and don’t worry my dear. it’s not far away at all and it comes with its own form of entertainment.”

and true to her snake-like words, you were at the new tower in no time, which strangely had a view of a large building with a courtyard on the inside, which you weren’t able to figure out what it was when you got a glimpse of it.

the minute you were thrown to the tower floor, your arms and legs were locked in chains, heavy metal binding your feet and arms together with only enough distance between them for you to shuffle around. both of the men had already joked about how there was no chance you could leave now.

your face felt sticky from the trail of a few tears that you’d shed when they’d first nabbed you and knocked out jake, having dried a while ago when no more tears fell on the entire walk where your body bounced against one of the men’s shoulders with each step.

and the sun had begun to rise too, you looking up at the growing light on the horizon from where you laid limply on the floor, completely disheartened in the situation at hand.

the click of the heels of the woman that you’d called mother for so many years drew your attention upwards to where she looked down at you instead of continuing to look out the window, letting out a yelp when she grabbed you by the collar and dragged you over right next to the window, sharply telling you to sit up.

“now let’s get ready for the real entertainment boys,” she chuckled, the ominous sound sending dread through your very core. “look y/n, everything’s been brought up to life now.” she pointed at the courtyard in the middle of the mysterious building that you had yet to identify.

“you must be curious what that place is, huh,” the blond man approached you, looking down with nothing less than the smile of a man avenged. “it’s the prison,” he bent down to whisper in your ear, now pointing at something, or rather someone being escorted along in the courtyard. “and that’s your little boyfriend over there, about to hang for his crimes against the kingdom. such a mystery how the guards stumbled upon him just knocked out on a beach somewhere, isn’t it?”

you inhaled a sharp breath, tears welling up in your eyes as you couldn’t look away, watching horrified as the little figure that was jake was dragged up onto a platform and held still despite his struggles against the guards holding him, a noose draped around his neck. he stood there for a long moment, the struggle stopping as he seemed to fully relax into the realization of his fate. and then they shoved him off, the noose catching his neck and snapping it in an odd angle, body going limp as he swung from the rough knot of rope around his throat.

the sobs just overflowed at that point, horrified at the sight of jake dying because of you. the one person in your life that genuinely loved you and cared for you was gone as quickly as he’d come into your life. so what truly was the point of living now, just numb to the pain forever and being used for all that you were worth by horrible people.

“now now dearest,” the wicked woman whispered to you, comforting you with a voice that only sounded more and more manipulative by the second. “he wasn’t good for you anyways.”

with that comment, you finally snapped entirely. “you know what, i’m not going to let you get your way. you think you can just use me now that i’ve experienced pain and the one person i loved and was loved by was taken away from me.” your voice kept growing louder, you rising to your feet as you looked her in the eyes. “you’re wrong. and there’s nothing left for me in this world, so i hope that everything you want is ripped away from you too.”

you stepped towards the window, dragging those heavy chains with you as you glanced down at the ground. there was no hesitance when you jumped, hearing the outraged screams of that wretched woman as you fell, wind whistling through your ears for a long moment before you hit the ground, everything turning black after you landed.

maybe in the world beyond, you and jake could be reunited as lovers, neither held to the unfortunate hands of life that you’d been dealt in your tale. those whose souls were linked together could never stray far from one another, no matter in life or death.

divider credits to @thecutestgrotto, @olenvasynyt, and @hyuneskkami

© seungsoftly 2025 please do not copy, repost, or translate

this is a work of fiction and is not intended to depict any accurate representation of any members of enhypen. please do not take this as real.

[heeseung64]

MAKE IT FIT!

i thought a double bed meant two..

bsf 02z x reader. one. bed. trope. smut. porn no plot. foursome (shocking). fighting for reader n eventually sharing. dogtags. hair pulling. fingering. cunnilingus. thigh jobs. hand jobs. blowjobs, all the jobs. #employed. creampie. stretching. overstimulation. filming. petnames. dom 02z. p in v. estimated word count? idk probs 4k yeah type shift. proofread? Perchance. my writing style is questionable. mdni.

the airbnb was too small for all of you. four walls, one squeaky fan, one bed that sagged in the middle and a couch that no one wanted but no one dared say why. jay had picked the place thinking it looked fun, summer cheap, close to the beach, but now being here with them it felt too close, too hot, too full.

the heat made it worse. sticky curtains clinging to the windows, sea air pressing into your lungs, their bodies always too near. every time you turned there was someone brushing against you, grabbing something from the same counter, lying half on you on the bed because there wasn’t space.

you grew up with them. jake, jay, sunghoon. those names tied to you like they’d been carved into your skin since you were kids. neighbors, classmates, college friends, boys- who followed you through every stage until now. the ones who knew the worst of you and still clung to you close. you used to think the touching was innocent- like maybe it was once. their hands always on your waist, tugging you back, holding your face, tucking hair behind your ear. forehead kisses, dry humping at parties like it was a joke, their arms thrown around you whenever you walked into a room. you convinced yourself it was because of history. because no one else got that close.

but the way they looked at you now? grown, sharp, hungry. it wasn’t the same. their stares dragged, their silence heavy. when other people touched you they scowled, mostly even stepping in. no one said it out loud, but you felt it, - still, buzzing under everything.

the first sight of the place proved it. you joked about the couch. who would get stuck with it.

"does it matter who sleeps on the couch? 'cos-" you were quickly interrupted by the hushes of jake who takes your bags, flinging them to the closet. "no one sleeps on the couch- remember?" he starts, "and plus," turning to an unreadable sunghoon, "we don't have time to think about that. today's a day filled with activities!"

interesting, you think, it's like they're communicating telepathically.

jake shushed you so fast it made your heart skip. he said it like it was a rule you’d all agreed on but you hadn’t. sunghoon’s jaw tightened. jay just stared, arms crossed.

you should’ve laughed it off but the room stayed quiet.

the arguments started then. small. who sat next to you at dinner. who carried your towel. who poured your drink. jokes that weren’t really jokes, voices sharper than they should’ve been.

you watch as jake nudges sunghoon who waves off jake's attitude. "c'mon, y/n." jay calls you from the bathroom. "think you can doll up for the beach, pretty?"

"as long as you guys give me a few, then i will be good to go." you chuckle, pushing them aside, heading to the small bathroom by the master. you put on your cute bikini under your shorts, spraying your mist and plumping your lips. as you touch up on your skin and hair, you hear faint murmuring. it grew louder as you changed, and it was fair to eaves drop- i mean- the walls of this place was thin to none.

their voices clashed again, sharper, louder; the words tangling over eachother til you couldn’t even tell who was saying what. it sounded like fighting, but it felt like begging. you stood, ready to tell them to cut it out, but you stay in the bathroom, fingers ghosting over the doorknob.

you thought they were just bickering until a voice dropped lower. "you always think you’re first. like she belongs to you."

another snapped back. "she doesn’t belong to anyone." the last voice cut through. quiet, steady.

"she doesn't belong to anyone- but last time i heard she belongs to me."

"no- i'm just saying she loves me more, so you guys can watch."

"to hell with that. i want her all to myself."

"what if she says no to all this..?"

.

"you think she'll say no?"

your heart was pounding. you had told yourself for years it wasn’t real, that the touches and the lingering eyes meant nothing. but here it was, out in the open, pressing into your skin with the weight of summer heat.

your stomach churns, hearing them talk sbout how much they obsess over your skin just the wall over- how they want to eat you alive with their eyes the moment you walk out- how they want to fuck you.

worse part?

you love it.

fuck i mean, the attention, the looks, the talk, the tension- you truly convinced yourself that these feelings would go away but here you are now, mere seconds away from palming your fingers against your core as you listen to your best friends talk dirty about you. your heart pounded, your nipples seeping out of your tight fabric, because of the little words you can only make out.

"you think she can fit us?-"

"almost done?" two quick knocks startle you, breaking you from the trails of thought. hoon, who impatiently tapped his fingers against the door became eager to see you first out of everyone. he sneaked out of the conversation before jay and jake could get ahead of themselves. you unlock the door to let him in. as you turn away from the door, your fingers hover over your body to as a final check as he widens it to see you. hoonie.. out of all of them, he was the quietest. the soft spoken around you, and significantly, the most tense. you watch his jaw tighten when he comes in, towel on one shoulder, waistband too low, tank top too tight- "do a twirl." he whispers against your ear while he brings your hips close to spin you. he watches intently, eyes blatantly watching your tits jiggle under the dangerous bikini top, wishing they'd fall out while it was just the two of you. "so pretty." he smiles, before reaching down.

he brings your palm in to massage as he takes you out of the bathroom. "do i look pretty too?" he chuckles, reaching down to your lips so he could hear you clear.

"very." you slightly chuckle, before reaching the other two- who were finally done bickering. all three are wearing tank tops, trunks that were lowkey showing their v line, sunglasses at the back of their heads while their dog tags waved in your face like a hypnotic dream. they watched you sway your way into their view with hoon attached to your hip. and while you indirectly gnawed at their minds with your physique, they groaned at the smirking sight of hoon, practically hogging you as you all leave the airbnb for the beach.

"it only takes a few minutes north to the beach! i can guide us!" you perk up as the summer breeze blows you. "lead the way, pretty." jake nods- signalling you to walk in-front of them. you definitely knew they just wanted to watch you from behind, see your body jiggle as you walked up stairs, hand shielding you from the peachy sun, your ass half glistened by the orange sea. they wanted to monitor your every move. jay, who shamelessly rubbed your back so tightly full of sunscreen, looks around you like surveillance. while he gripped your shoulders, outlined your back, softly went over your thighs and hugged you from behind, he couldn't help but grimace at anyone who passed by that was looking at you.

"so many creeps around here." he mumbles, nodding over to jake who lays his head on your lap. the four of you rest on the soft sand, hiding under the scorching sun while the whole world plays around you. the mini tent was set up for all of you to chill while music blasted respectfully.

"first drink of the day, baby." jake sits up to grab a cold drink, playfully rubbing it against your cheek until you did the same. "wanna race to the water?" he challenges you. you chuckle, bringing the rest of guys' wrists with you. the series of stupid challenges and games along the water and further down the deep end easily tired you out, but the banter and the colourful sun brought all four of you to continue splashing away like kids again.

the four of you walk along the shore, drying parts of yourself through the breeze. "fuck, i forgot my towel. i only brought yours, pretty." hoon stammers, halting the groups walk. "oh shit, same. i was too distracted." jay stammers too.

"we'll wait in the tent til you guys come back with your towels!" jake waves the two off, shooing them as you settle down inside the tent, watching the sun set without the other two.

"you cold?" jake finally sits next to you, tank top nowhere to be seen, shaggy, salty hair resting against his forehead as the dogtag drapes across his collarbone. you pause to take in his visuals. he notices, dragging your chin up to face him. "hm?" he calls for an answer.

you nod your head, "a lil'." you mumble, darting your eyes back to the sun setting. you feel jakes arm snake around your waist. "take off the shorts, i'll put my towel on you, yeah?" he whispers, leaning in closer to you and without a thought- pulling your denims down, exposing your cute binkini bottom. "jakey!" you squeal, slapping his back as he coughs out a laugh. "ask for my consent first! weirdo." you tease him, leaning back in the tent with your elbows propping you up. you watch as he bites your lip, eyes slowly trailing over your wet bikini. you watch as he carefully takes his hands to ghost over your hips.

jake goes to lay beside you, too distracted by your plump lips and plush thighs trying to hide your slick.

"you want me to make you feel warm?" his voice, more honey like, stirs you. "how so?" you tilt your head, an upturn smile on your end. "shh." he rests his index on his lips, before putting it on yours. his fingers trails down, ghosting over the gap of your tits, down past your stomach, scraping past your belly button before stopping at your bikini waistline, he tips of his fingers hooking on the sides, tugging them like he owned you.

your eyes flutter, tits jerking from the force of his tug. "jakey.." you mumble, looking back at him with doe eyes. "you know you want me to." he whispers, "i hid their towels, they'll take a while." he winks before slowly begging for your thighs to spread. "just want you to feel good." he leans in on you, lips ghosting over yours. "but we're in-" his fingers start touching your core over your fabric.

you choke a moan, his hand coming in quick to cover your mouth before he kisses your forehead. "shh." he warns again. before rubbing circles on your clothed clit like it was plan he had pre executed. "yeah? like that?" he whispers against your ear, heat rising to your temples as the dark tent felt warmer just by his fingers making puddles on your pussy. "fuck- your nipples are hard too." he tsks, using his lips to kiss them while your legs squirmed, begging for his fingers to be inside.

"jake." you silently cry, "yes?" he smiles down at you, an obvious tent in his pants but he's prioritising your slick over his. "touch me." you beg.

his vision goes hazy. you were straightforward, you, his muse, asking- no- pleading to be touched. and he did, in mere seconds, pushed your panties to the side to shove his digits into, juices plunging out of your cute little hole while his brows furrow, knitting together in concentration. this man is slow, until he was quick and close, curling his fingers at the right place like he knew you'd unfold there. he earned hard to get here, so he's using all the antagonising minutes and precision to make you squirt on his body for dear life. you cover your mouth, using jakes towel to try and cover your pussy but jake shoves it aside, angry that you'd even dare try to hide from him.

"fuck.. been wanting you like this. all by myself. so fucking pretty. so fucking mine." jake whimpers in your ear while the summer breeze calmed you.

"so fucking soaked, is this all f'me?" jake's brows tighten at the centre, watching your lips part open and your stomach knot at his fingers rubbing against your spot like he owned it.

"you gonna cum for me baby?" he whines, whispering only when it embarrasses you. you can't help but hold back tears, squirming and pushing jakes chest as he continues to overstimulate your pussy. "fuck i wanna drink you so bad. want you to cum on my cock." he groans, palming his cock under his trunks. "but it's gonna have to wait." he spits.

"jake!" you squeal into his neck. "yes pretty, cum for me." his fingers, full of slick- mix with your hot juices that follow after he sped up his pace for fun. you squirted all over him and his towel, earning a wet patch on his trunks. "fuck," he looks down, "i just came in my shorts." he mutters, looking at his digits pull out of your drenched bikini. the cum looked like webs, and tasted like sugar and sin on his lips, jake made you know how good it tastes when he looked at you straight in the eyes.

"want more?" jake croaks, stroking your thighs as he props you up against himself, tying his towel around your waist- not giving a fuck if anyone saw he fingerblasted you.

"please." you beg, pouting as you watch his smile grow. "then tell those two fuckers to sleep with eachother on the couch, okay?" he brings a thumb up to brush it against your cheek, kissing it. you mindlessly nod- knowing you wouldn't.

"you fucking piece of dog shit." hoon rips open the tent, luckily unnoticing of the previous interactions held before they silently arrived.

"what did i do?" jake acted sly, smirking when he didn't have to. "y/n, let's head home, and get you showered yeah?" jay snatches your waist, pulling you out of the tent before you could even spare a glance at jake- who now is scolded to pack up.

you watch as hoon eyes you up and down, before sending a soft smile your way. "we'll be done soon okay? go and get showered, pretty."

jay couldn't help but forcefully yank you all the way back into the airbnb. he was soft to you, still. it's like he knew you were touched. he saw the way jake's- not even yours- jake's towel was draped across your bikini, hiding something he only wished he could have tasted. your denims were scrunched under his fist until they were thrown across the bed before you reached the bathroom.

jay is soft, but jay- especially when mad- is always rough. hungry. boisterous. prideful. desperate. but loving and overprotective. "strip." he tells you to. locking the doors, not giving a fuck if jake and hoon didn't even bring home a key for themselves.

"strip." he says again, bringing his hands to tenderly untie the back of your bra while you bite your lip, undressing infront of him. the shower head ran hot, steaming water while the two of you watched eachother undress. hot and calculative. "he fucking touched you." jay's jaw clenches. "and here i thought you wouldn't like it." he strides to you closing the gap, locking you as his arms grip the sink behind. "jjongie.." you croak, looking up at him. "don't fucking call me that." jay hisses, ripping your top and bottoms off. "you don't get to act all cutesy when you enjoyed being fucked by someone else." he warns, tugging you into the shower. jay pins you, steam hitting the both of you. his cock, exposed against your stomach, made you sway. mad, how his girth just pokes your waist while he watches you suffer and squirm. oh how badly you want it to be inside of you.

"can't have it baby. not until you suck me." jay brushes his fingers along your cheek. "will you be a good girl and make me feel better?" his eyes soften under your gaze, eyebrows twitching as you pout, yielding- nodding. "such a good fucking girl." jay brings you down on your knees. "take it. take it baby, please." he pleads.

you bring his tip against your lips, humming against it. the warm water splashes against your ruined face and sticky hair while your hands work on rubbing the rest of his length you try to swallow. "so big." you cry before he groans. "i know you can take it baby. so fucking good." he moans, pushing your head against the wall. you're trapped, feeling his cock push deeper into your gummy mouth. you look at him in the eyes while his darkens, fucking into your mouth like a toy. "take this fucking cock, drain its cum or else i'll fuck you mercilessly," jay whispers under his breath, just enough for you to hear and whine. "unless you want to be fucked like that- i'll do it." he groans.

"mmph!" you yelp, having jay shove his cock deeper before pulling out. "let me fuck your thighs, slutty baby." his speech is slurred, dog tag slapping against your face while he manhandles you in the shower, soap being poured and rubbed against your thighs. he carries you against his cock before he shoves his cock in, just enough to rub against your clit. you watch as the tip hides in your thighs before being slid in and out. you feel his back generate heat behind you, his breath panting as his hands reach out to grab the wall infront. "fuck!" he yelps, knowing you're moving your ass against him, rubbing your precious clit against his hard cock just to get off. "yeah baby, fuck, rub me with your slick." he groans, face pressing into the crook of your neck while the soap foams in your thighs.

"want you all to myself. mm? don't you agree?" he slaps your wet skin, bringing a free hand to hold around your cute neck. "don't you want me like this? all yours?" he whispers, shamelessly making noises under the crowded shower. "i'll fuck you so good tonight if you just make jake and hoon go sleep elsewhere." grunting as his hand lowers to grope your tits. "fuck! jay-" you cry, feeling your high come.

"i only bought the bed for us to fuck in baby. no one else. i'm not sharing." he warns, "not when i have you like this."

his words stammer you, cracking your high as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, spurting white all over your plushy thighs and the bathroom tiles.

while you try to recover, jay returned to himself- washing you in all the places where he shouldn't have touched in the first place. "you okay?" he asks, meeting your eyes. "y-yeah.." you could only respond. he smiles, patting you down after letting you out. "remember what i said, okay?"

you try to listen, putting on your lotions and your nightwear, but jay couldn't help but kiss you so needy, wanting more under his trunks. "remember what i said." he warns again.

you didn't, not after the two of you step out seeing sunghoon and jake standing outside, crossed arms and tussled hair. "oh." jay smirks, "did packing up take long?"

"if the owner asks why the door lock is broken- just say you'll pay for it." sunghoon shoves jay aside before slamming the bathroom door. jake scoffs, eyeing up jay before leaving the room. "i'll go cook something, yeah?" jay pats himself before heading to the kitchen, leaving you and jake across the hallway.

"he didn't touch you, did he?" jake comes close, fingers gliding so softly against your cheek. "or-"

the bathroom door slams back open. hoon, who had finished a shower in minutes, exits the steamy bathroom. his eyes lock onto you, wet hair over his face, little droplets cascading down his abs, and a lose towel, just hugging his hips. "your turn." he throws a new towel at jake. jake huffs, shaking his head, tch-ing as he heads into the bathroom, leaving hoon and you mere inches away from each other.

"had fun?" hoon's eyes never left you, jaw tensing as he sees your swollen lips and faintly pink neck. "at the beach? yeah!" you lie, getting wet just at the look of him. though hoon was never the type to lash out, he had definitely shown his anger, and with the way he leans in closer to you, he's jealous. he scoffs, "yeah right."

"couch. movie." he glares, before setting his eyes elsewhere, leaving you wet and confused.

dinner was quiet, all eyes hooked on to you as you twirl the food in your fork. "good?" jay smiles at you, and you nod. "so good." you reply, only hearing a sigh from jake. "could be better tho." he mutters. this rose petty arguments between jay and jake, some even funny to giggle at. while you choke out a chuckle, sunghoon stares across from you, never breaking eye contact as he eats, slurps and drinks with his eyes glued onto you.

it doesn't help the fact that you were wearing your cute nightwear, perky tits on display under that cute satin top- lace decorating your figure, necklace so low that it kisses your cleavage- you know he's looking- staring, hungry. like that meal isn't enough.

"hoon?" you call out, "you okay?"

"of course." he deadpans, before taking his dish to the kitchen. "don't worry about him, baby." jake brings a hand to your thigh, squeezing it. "just stick with us when we're watching the movie, baby." jay joins in.

you didn't. not when they were tired out of their minds- thinking it was your pussy that kept them sleepy. as you continued to watch in the night, you couldn't help but pout at the distance hoon gave you.

hoon's gaze burned from across the room, but he didn’t move. spent, jay and jake had dozed, climbing on eachother for comfort- thinking it was you they were cuddling. you thought hoon would then come closer, join in, but instead he leaned back into the couch, jaw clenched, scrolling aimlessly on his phone.

"hoon.." you whisper, walking over to the single couch, far from you. he didn't even look up, didn't even acknowledge you. "i thought you had your fun. what do you need me for?"

the venom in his voice made you ache. you pout, hovering in front of him, chewing your lip until he finally snapped, yanking you down onto his lap. his phone clattered to the floor. "done pretending you enjoyed them?” he murmured, his voice a low growl against your ear. “be quiet.”

"h-hoon-" you try to pry away, but he shamelessly grinds your hips to his crotch, growling in your ear while the murmur of the movie kept him hidden. "i said be quiet, baby," kissing your neck slowly, overwriting the marks jay had nipped. "unless," his hands glide over your breasts, eyes looking up to you under his lowly smirk. "unless you want me to fuck you so loud they'll know who you really belong to."

he didn't waste anytime to flip you over, your back struck against the cushion as he hungrily peels your bottoms off. "you know how to cover your mouth, right baby?" hooking your cute panties off your ankles as you lay there, hypnotised by the chain dangling down. his eyes never left you- you can see it when the screen flickers blue. he carefully shoves your wet panties into your mouth- as a quick way to shut you up. the movie screen illuminated your glistening pussy- warm, sticky, wet- pretty; hoon couldn't help but watch it pulsate in awe. "you're telling me they got to touch it before me?" he groans quietly. "and you let them?"

you shyly nod, unable to lie. you confess how badly you want all of them, how unshakeable your desire truly was. this only fueled hoon to shove his lips down your core, smearing his saliva all over your walls, sucking your clit while plunging his fingers deep to curl inside you while all you could do was squirm on the couch, hips bucking, back arching, teeth clenching between your sopping fabric. he laps at your pussy, starved- like a man who reached oasis, finally- a dream he'd been wanting to taste. "fucking heaven." he groans, a little loud to cause the men just a mere metre or two away to jerk in their sleep.

"mmph.. fuck." your eyes bead out tears with the way his fingers curl in you, pumping in and out as he plays with your clit on his tongue, kissing, sucking, biting your thighs til they shook. you broke a moan, breathless and muffled, hoon paid this no mind as he kept lapping, dirtying your core with his spit and tongue.

"fucking mine." his hands grope the sides of your thighs, pulling them closer to his mouth. shaking, you moan again- this time making jay and jake shuffle louder in their sleep. "yeah? you wanna wake them? see what happens when they see me eating you baby. you taste so good when you're mine." sunghoon lifts his head to whisper nasty shit in your ear. "cum, baby - fuck! squirt on me." he rips your panties from your lips and throws them- unexpectedly landing on a now awake jay.

hoon lips smothered over your mouth, drowning out your moans and cries as he quickly pulls out his tip to rub all over your messy clit. buried in your slick and juice, hoon continues to slide his exposed cock along your folds. you whimper under his member, his tip slowly entering you but never actually going in. teasing you. you choke a hard sigh, moaning, breaking a high you haven't reached.

"you fucking-" you turn to see jake and jay awake, ruffling out their shirts, messy hair, rushing over to hoon who only held a sly smirk.

only silence was held when you beg. "please stop!"

"if you wanna fuck me. then fuck me." you push hoon away with your sole, bare cheeks and tattered singlet all gone to precious waste if those boys don't hurry up and trail behind you as you walk, swaying your hot hips into the only room; the only bed.

the boys stammer, hard in their pants, bolting to the doors like dogs on a leash.

the bed waits.

your calves hit the frame, knees buckling. they crowd closer. dogtags swinging. clinking, like desperate music in the dark. you reach first, fingers curling around jay’s chain, yanking him down until his breath ghosts your lips. the cold metal presses into your palm- fuck.. his sharp inhale almost louder than the rattle. jake stumbles forward next, chest colliding with yours when you catch his tag too. twisted chain wrapped tight around your knuckles, pulling him in like he’s yours to leash.

hoon lingers. watching. daring you. so you hook him last.

you grabbed his tag, hard enough that it digs into his collarbone. his smirk falters- just for a second before he leans into your pull. three chains tangled in your fists. three boys bound to you by cold metal and shallow breath.

the sound..

groaning and clinking as you drag them down to the bed with you. like you’d leashed all of them.

"fuck.. baby." jay stammers, "so hot.. so desperate. you think you can handle all three?" his arms slide to yank off the rest of your garments- cradling your ass while hoon shoves his cock straight into your mouth. "she can't talk- she's busy." he smirks, earning a low chuckle from the rest.

your mouth so full of his length it made your eyes roll, hips rubbing against jakes palm who can't help but press his hard member down your slick thighs, still sticky and white from hoon's stupid lips. jay growls, grabbing a fistful of your ass, dipping your knees into the mattress, hoisting your hips as you choke on hoon's cock in front of you. "stretch her." hoon holds a fistful of your hair, caressing your full cheeks and your stained eyes, cooing soft sinister words as jake and jay touch you relentlessly.

"yeah baby? want us to fuck you? want us to fill you?" jay slaps your ass while jake whimpers, feeling his cock being stroked by your needy hands. "mmph!" you could only muster, with hoon nodding- "yeah she loves it like that."

jake brings his cock to align with jay's, smearing his precum over your pink folds while all you could do was grip the sheets- "pretty baby, have you been waiting all night?" hoon pulls his member out, soppy webs of saliva spilling out of your mouth as he helps relieve your need for breath.

"mm? say yes baby." jake pleads, waiting for your silent approval, your doe eyes generating tears as jay rubs your sweet spot in circles. "say it, please?"

your lips dribble with mixed precum and saliva, neck drenched with the remnants of your juices that hoon had spilt when he kissed you- you feel their hands roam you, trying to claim everypart of yours as theirs. the bed was bucked in with the way the hoon kneeled in front of you while jay and jake watched you from behind. "we havent even fucked you yet and you're so ruined baby," hoon huffs, grabbing your chin. "you sure want us to fuck you? stretch you? say yes."

"yes, please?" you moan, feeling jakes lips tickle yours, reaching down just to kiss you. "good girl, our sweet y/n." jay cooes, slapping a handful of your ass that your thighs shake, earning a groan from hoon. "fuck jay, spank her again- just like that."

you took a few spanks, red little marks on your cute ass as a form of punishment for being a liar. lying about not wanting, not needing, not desiring anyother. they hushed you, planted kisses on your forehead while you trembled under their palm, salivating under their bodies. then came sloppy kisses, the boys laying their backs against the headboard while you go down on them, kissing each tip as a sorry- as comfort. your thighs were even painted with prints of precum while you got a lil carried away at jake's cock, kissing his tip so lovingly. jay had enough, bringing you towards the centre. he lays you on your back as jake and hoon surround you on each side- kissing your cheek. jay hoists up your hips before lining his tip against your foamy core. "so fucking hot." hoon mutters, watching your body react to the scene.

"fuck princess, let me in." jay groans, being the first to push his thick cock in you, the tip being the hardest to shove. the little lamp in the corner of the room only seemed to show the illuminating beads of sweat and liquids that sheared off of you, while the moon exposed the curve of your ass and tits, your face and your swollen lips; loved by the men you cherish. "gonna fuck you so good, you'll take every inch."

the moan you broke into was loud that hoon had to shush you, kissing your cheeks while he guided you to palm him and jake with your free hands. the rhythm was slow, moderate, squeaky- until jay couldn't keep it, watching your tight little pussy swallow him with white creamy rims like you worshipped his dick, fuck, he was fucking you like crazy. your hips were bruised and your pace of rubbing jake and hoon's cock was fast, sliding off your palms. they get up to kneel on either side of your head, making you swallow jake's cock while stroking hoon's.

"you love it, don't you?" hoon's little smile looks hotter from below, watching your three best friends look down on you as they use you to shove their cock in- fuck, you feel jake's cock hardening as he continues to fuck your gummy walls.

it was getting overwhelming, fast.

the slapping of your pussy against jay's dick ramming into you, the creak of the bed, jake's sloppy cock popping in and out of your mouth- hoon's moans as you edge him,

and overall,

they're cumming to the sound of you enjoying it.

"princess, i'm cumming! fuck-" jay lulls his head back as he pumps hard shots into you. feeling his seed pump endless shots of jizz as it spills out, cock still hard.

"baby let me cum in your throat." jake couldn't help but shove it deeper until your saliva was white, filled with his creamy cum.

"gonna paint these breasts." hoon growls under his breath, making you feel his cock spurt out ropes of slick over your tits and waist.

"oh my god!" you moan, feeling their hunger not yet satisfied, you were instantly put on a cowgirl position, white dripping down your stomach and onto jake's who had settled you onto his cock. a slight stretch, you feel the relief right after the pain when you grind on it without warning. jake's sensitive tip is now experiencing colours- and his moans weren't afraid to show it, bucking his hips deeper while he watches you rub hoon and jay's tip against your cute titties.

"good fucking girl, riding me so well." jake fucks into you, grabbing your hips to stop you from grinding so he could just pump into you, you yelp crying- but jay and hoon encourage it, hold you as jake fucks you relentlessly, spitting into your mouth while your hole gets demolished. "you love jakey don't you?" he mocks your nickname for him, putting a thumb on your clit to circle. you reach your high within seconds, feeling jake's dick slide out, cum spilling out right after. a quick flash came up as jay couldn't help but save a pic. "fuck! my baby, you want more?"

different positions, different cocks, your kisses turned soft and sloppy, your body more doughy and fuckable everytime you're fuller.

"she'll get more." hoon plants your face into the bed. lining his tip. "b-baby-" you cry at them, no time to process whose even fucking you.

"baby, stay awake now." hoon grips your thighs before slapping his cock at your entrance, shoving it in while all you could do was moan and squeal relentlessly. hoon's fucking was meaner than jake's, his hips snapping while the rest watched, cum still leaking out of their tips.

"gonna fuck hoonie like you always do?" hoon slyly drags his words, fucking you faster while the bed creaks, earning dents and more problems to the wall. you couldn't help but bring your torso up to grip against the bedhead, and this gave jake the opportunity to slide his tip in, shoving it just a lil- stretching you. fuck. it felt so good, you couldn't help but moan so loud, jay had to shut you up by shoving his own overstimulated dick into your throat.

hoon's eyes roll back, feeling the heat of jake's member and your walls against his- and the sound of your cries. fuck they could listen to it all day. "fuck baby, cum!"

"i'm fucking cumming!" you let jay's cock pop out of your lips, and you scream, tits jiggling and your eyes rolling back as the high is hitting you harder than ever. "cum all over us." you squirt again, feeling their mixture of moans and groans of pleasure wash over you.

the silence was enough to kill.

the heaving of breaths, the bottom left bed leg? gone.

the dog tags, now hung around your thighs and neck like medals. "you're ours forever baby. ours." jay huffs.

you’re flat on your back, chest heaving, skin sticky with sweat. jay drapes across your shoulder, mouth pressed lazy against your collarbone. jake curled at your side, face buried against your ribs, chain still sliding up and down with each breath. hoon's knees gave in- sprawled on your stomach, his hand loose around your waist.

"i love you. each of you. all of you." you mutter, ruffling their hair with every ounce of your energy left. whatever part of your body their lips touched, they kissed in return- like a silent worship.

peaceful, their breaths. their pulse. the night. the sea. not giving a fuck that they had a lot of damage to pay.

"fuck. the owner is visiting to see the damage." jay runs his fingers through his hair, pointing at y/n with his other, "and seeing the current state of her, how the FUCK are we supposed to convince the guy we didn't do anything weird?"

jake groans from the floor, tugging the blanket over his head.

“damage? it’s not that bad-" the bedframe creaks loud, splintered.

“…okay maybe it’s bad.”

hoon’s dead silent, arms crossed, glaring at the floor like he’s trying not to say anything worse. then a knock came, leaving everyone to freeze. the door swings open. his figure loomed over the entire plan, while you and hoon securely held eachother, looking a bit away in shame. the owner of the bnb had dark eyes scanning the wreckage. broken lamp, tilted picture frame, sheets tangled across the floor.

his jaw tightens. silence.

jay opens his mouth, ready to beg.

“we can explain-"

“don’t bother,” the guy cuts him off, waving a hand.

his gaze slides past all three boys. it lands on you. lingering. you try hard to look away, but you watch as his eyes wonder, eyeing you up and down. "ma'am," he starts, watching your eyes waver as he leans against the doorframe. "nothing is too broken, don't worry." he starts, "here's my number for anything extra you need to show me, please, i don't mind unnecessary. and i mean anything unnecessary at all.."

his hand brings out a note, stapled with a phone number. "heeseung." he introduces himself cooly, looking one more time at you before leaving.

WOW. yall pls dont ask what possessed me. anyways.

perms!

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feedback is always appreciated <3

[ohjaeyunn]

! sim jaeyun x reader texts

contains — jealous jake. soft care. drunk texts. suggestive. needy jake. playful banter. confession. getting together!!!.

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feedback is highly appreciated.

feel free to give me ideas on what to write next

[hollyoongs]

⤷ NOW IF WE'RE TALKING BODIES...

시놉시스┆ 𝙟ake𝗵͢oon, ─────⠀f!reader 𓂅 𝑤.𝑐: +5.3k (before: +3.3k) ꒰ ⌗ smut with plot ꒱ ↷⠀ ℰditoral ! 𓂂

─────⠀cursing, kissing, oral (fem receiving), fingering (vaginal), squirting, pet names (princess), dirty talk (mild ig), praise kink, overstimulation, grinding (hoon is needy), light restraint (hip pinning), teasing with anatomy knowledge ☝️🤓, consent play, blindfolding, edging, possessive, MUNCH HOON!!!!!!

You knew this kind of tension; of course, you did. But this kind of air surrounds you both only when you're alone, when those labels of "lifeless nerd boy" and "popular cheerleader" are thrown out the window.

Your relationship with Park Sunghoon has been a complete secret since day one, at his request, and honestly, you didn't mind at all. He knew that if the whole university found out, he'd have to deal with fake friendships, continued abuse, and six months of being the talk of the whole place, just like what happened with one of his classmates. Sunghoon is a pretty focused person when it comes to his studies, but that facade fades away when both of you are in the comfort of one of your houses, revealing his shy, tender, romantic, and loving side. 

You found yourself lucky to see this side of him; it felt like a privilege that he acknowledges, and he's expressed the same sentiment to you, albeit in reverse.

No one knows that you've been together for almost a year; no one knows that your lips meet with his when no one is around, brimming with love with each kiss. And no one knows that the other is the missing piece in each other's lives.

You steal a glance at Sunghoon, a small smile tugging at your lips, even though your thoughts are betraying your concentration. You won't deny that watching Sunghoon studying was attractive. His straight jet black hair falls over his forehead, his brow slightly furrowed as his eyes remain fixed on the book in his lap, and his glasses perched a bit lower than usual. 

The rolled-up sleeves of his hoodie reveal his toned forearms, and his fingers play with the orange highlighter in a distracting manner (although what was really distracting you was the soft veins of his hands popping slightly when he held the highlighter a little too strongly). 

You envy the way he absentmindedly bites his bottom lip, your attention momentarily captivated by the movement before he releases his lip from his teeth, allowing it to regain its softness, a very light shade of red painting it.

"Okay. The next topic is quite common. The vagina," you're jolted back to reality by the unexpected word. Your cheeks warm up a little, and Sunghoon chuckles softly at your reaction, his cheeks a little more red than yours. The objects he had were set aside, and one of his hands traveled to your exposed thigh beneath the short cheerleader skirt. "If you'd rather study this topic alone, I understand."

"No, not at all. I just got lost in thought for a moment. Sorry." You respond, grateful that Sunghoon doesn't pry further. You adjust yourself to be more comfortable and mentally remind yourself to rein in your wandering thoughts. Shifting slightly, you prop yourself against the headboard of his bed, ready to pay attention.

"I'll try to explain it in simple terms, using the keywords the teacher used in the last test." He looked at you once again, and you nodded.

"When we talk about the internal part of the vagina, it extends from your cervix, which connects the vagina to the uterus. Your vagina terminates as an opening outside your body, known as the vaginal opening. It's located between your bladder and rectum. And don't forget about the G-spot, which is also situated there and can be stimulated with fingers or a penis." He finishes the explanation, clearing his throat, and once again, your thoughts take a wild turn.

Despite being in a relationship now, your interactions have mostly consisted of innocent touches: his hand on your waist, you sitting on his lap while he studies. You both respect each other's boundaries. But now, as you listen to Sunghoon, your head spins with a desire to throw the book away and explore a realm that has remained untouched.

In a few words, Sunghoon is a virgin, and you are not. As a matter of fact, you were his very first girlfriend.

You've been patient, waiting for him to take that step when he's ready. And you can feel that moment approaching. It's not just the impure thoughts that excite you; it's also the small changes in his actions. The unexpected kisses, the slight lip bites he has currently been doing in your brief make-out sessions, the gentle yet possessive touch on your back—it made you crazy in a good way.

"I’m so sorry, can you remind me of the names of each part?" you ask, your genuine need for understanding evident after you lost track of what he was explaining. You've spent nights studying, yet during tests, you sometimes mix up the names and end up with lower scores. That's why you rely on Sunghoon to help you understand quickly and effectively, even more as a med student.

About half an hour passes, and your mind is struggling to absorb the influx of information. You're tired of the overload of scientific terms and concepts that you could now write a thesis on. But your learning style leads you to forget quickly due to your lack of focus.

Sunghoon notices and decides to set the books aside, focusing on you instead. He doesn't bombard you with questions or textbook sentences. Instead, he reaches out to you, and his departure from studying surprises you. His actions earn him a puzzled but bright look from you, and a small smile forms on his lips.

"Hey, Hoon, aren't we going to continue?" You inquire, caught off guard, as his lips press gently against yours. You respond a few minutes later, his fingers tilting your chin as he draws away from the delicate, soft kiss.

The kissing session commences, and both your hands and his find their rightful places. Your fingers play with the back of his neck, and his firm hands rest on your waist. Now, Sunghoon is no longer thinking coherently; all he wants is to kiss you until you're both breathless. He revels in the soft dance of your lips and the playful clash of tongues, where he's determined to be the victor. Your sparkling eyes and your lovely cherry-toned lips, combined with the aftermath of the wet kiss, make his heart flutter before his very eyes.

“How come?”

“Seeing you stress out is not my favorite thing in the world.”  And there's also a certain physical reaction he's experiencing that he can't ignore.

A wild idea takes root in his mind, and he can't help but bite your lower lip when he gives you another kiss, earning a groan from you—the first one of the day. Your excitement matches his, and he can sense the building tension between you. Irregular breathing becomes part of the routine after heated kissing sessions. But what Sunghoon says next catches you off guard.

"Can you lie on your back?" Confusion floods your senses, but you follow his request. Your eyes remain on him as he removes his tie and glasses; a sense of nervousness is evident in his actions.

"Hoon, what are you planning?" The tie is now in his hands, and he swallows as he looks at it with contemplation in his eyes.

"Can I use this as a blindfold for you?" You nod almost automatically; the idea might be crazy, but your trust in him is unwavering, and vice versa. Soon enough, darkness envelops your vision as the tie is securely fastened and you exhale.

"What can you tell me about the vagina?"

"Well, there's an inner and outer part, both highly sensitive to touch."

"Especially…"

"Especially the clitoris and the G-spot." A barely-there touch brushes your face as his fingers graze your skin, and you can't help but let out a soft sigh in response. With your eyes covered, you don't notice the change in Sunghoon's expression—and your senses sharpened,

"Where's the clitoris?" Shyness rushes over you like a tide, momentarily freezing your actions. “You can describe it, it’s okay.”

You decided not to do that, you open your legs slowly, and your index finger points at it, mentally noting its position. Sunghoon hums his approval at your correct answer. "And where's the G-spot?"

"You know I can't touch that; it's inside." After a small break, Sunghoon's lips touched yours in a slightly harsh kiss, leaving you speechless for a mere second before responding with the same force.

His fingers went from your waist and stayed right below your breast, so you took his hand and gently made it stay on your left chest. He put a small amount of pressure on you, a little scared in case your reaction wasn't a positive one. Thankfully, when he heard your soft moan because of the sudden action, he couldn't help but smile, relieved.

A rush of confidence drowned him, and while he attacked your lips with his, his hand went down from the valley of your clothed chest to your belly. 

“It’s okay if I touch you?” You simply nodded before the pad of his middle and ring fingers touched your clit on top of your clothes. He started doing small circular movements, the friction with your clothes feeling a little too good to be true. You were waiting for this, but didn't know it could be this soon; you won't even complain. A small whine left your mouth when he decided to break the kiss, silence surrounding both of you.

"Can I try to make you feel good?" You couldn't help but laugh a little because there was no way that Sunghoon would ever make you feel bad in any sense. Pros of dating a gentleman like him.

"Only if you can take that off me." Sunghoon's hand ended in his tie, and you stopped it right away. "I didn't mean the tie, Hoon."

Sunghoon was surprised; he would have never imagined you would be one of the people who were into that type of… kink, if that’s the word. He wouldn't even mind saying something because, deep inside him, he also liked that idea. 

His fingers touched the waistband of both your skort, and underwear, all in one, revealing how wet you started to get because of your thoughts (that he didn't know about) and the heat of the moment. Sunghoon was fascinated by the amount of arousal dripping from your core. His tongue licked his lips quickly, and he took a look at you.

Chest moving up and down in a way to calm yourself down, one of your hands ready to grip the mattress of the bed, while the other is around your next to your head, gripping the pillow below you. He looked again and could feel himself grow in excitement as his dick also did the same thing. You were surprised when you felt your boyfriend breathe near your chest; his fingers were stuck to your tights.

"Do you have any tips?"

"Play with my clit first like before, and if you want, you can finger me after you see me if I'm wet enough." You heard your boyfriend exhaling, and later on, the grip in your throat started to get loose. His dumb passed your slit in a very superficial way, but that sent sparks to your spine. He then collected some of the wetness that was created before and spread it on your sensitive bud. Shy circles were drawn in for the second time, and shaking breaths simply escaped your mouth.

Sunghoon didn't want to miss any reactions, a sense of pride showing in the cocky smile that started forming on his face. With your positive reactions in his head, he put more pressure and speed in his work, seeing how you were squirming a little, and your hips started to move up and down. Again, an idea pops out of his head.

"I'm going to ask you some questions, and if you answer them correctly, I will increase the speed or continue at this pace, whatever you feel comfortable with. If you don't, then I will stop. Are you okay with it?" Of course, you were not, but you nodded in pleasure when you felt the last circle in your clit.

"Before we started talking about the vagina, there were seven erogenous zones on a woman. Can you tell me all of them, princess?" Your mind starts the engine, remembering the text and the lectures in class, but still in doubt.

"Bottom of the feet… it has pressure points that enhance arousal and increase blood flow."

"It does, princess; we can tell the pressure points by doing some massage in the area, just like I do when you're stressed." You nodded again as you cleared your throat, feeling his finger again on your clit, making painfully slow circles in it. "Keep going."

"Ears are also one of them.” He added a little pressure that made you lose focus for a second, you cleared your throat to continue, “Uhm, the nerves and sensory receptors on the inside and outside are the ones that make it sensitive. Any movement like light stroking or touching is bound to give you a pleasing sensation."

"Really? Are there any common movements that give that sensation?"

"Yes…"

"Tell me, princess."

"Kisses." His movements never stopped, but you could feel his body moving to your position, his lips giving a small peck to yours, and then his head going to your left side. His lips started giving feathery kisses behind your ear; you hummed in pleasure, and your left hand stopped right up to the back of his head.

"Are there others, or is it the only one?" His whisper made you shiver; this was a whole new side of him that you were happy to be part of.

"Lightly licks and nibbles are the others. Blowing and whispering into it are also ones, but those are not frequently used, or that's what the book said."

"Is that so?" Your head was probably tired of nodding, but you just couldn't talk. Words cannot describe what Sunghoon was making you feel. An unexpected soft bite made you moan, and from your boyfriend's mouth, a grunt escaped because of your fingers making a mess in the back of his head. 

"You have said two parts; you're missing five. Continue; you can do it, princess."

"Hands, especially the fingertips and palms, slight touches, and other things can make her feel the intimacy. That's why it came in fifth place."

"What are the other ones?" You started to feel shy, and so did Sunghoon, but he couldn't care less about the slight pain he felt in his thumb and how his lips began to get progressively numb due to his continued kisses. He saw how you gulped.

"Sucking fingers." Sunghoon shyly hummed in response, stating that the answer was correct. Sunghoon left his position and finally stopped his movements, gaining low whimpers from his girlfriend.

"You're doing great. Now there are four more, and to my surprise, two of them are from the last topic that we studied. Give me the other two."

"Inner thighs and the nipples," the confidence in your voice was as clear as the day, a proud, non-teeth smile on your face when you said those.

"The inner thighs? Why is that?"

"It's due to their closeness to the genitals. Light strokes and touches can stimulate your loins. Also kisses."

"Like this?" You could feel the hands of your boyfriend on top of your naked thighs; a light presence in them made you grab the mattress; you could only sense the fact that Sunghoon was having you on the verge without even fingering (if he wanted to); he was gentle yet sensual; every movement he made was just a moment of pure bliss. 

You started to hold your breath when you felt his head going down, but the breath you let go of when he delivered shy kisses and hickeys in the place. He left your body alone, wanting more and more as every interaction passed.

"Can you explain why the nipples are part of that category?"

"When nipples are stimulated, the nerves surrounding them send signals to the genital... sensory cortex?" There was doubt in your voice, but you kept going. "The same brain region is aroused due to clitoral or vaginal stimulation. And kissing and licking are common ways to stimulate them."

You couldn't see Sunghoon's satisfied smile; you had said everything correctly at that point; you just missed two more. He decided that it was time to set you free from the tie, and your eyes welcomed him after blinking a few times. The sun was setting, but that couldn't make Sunghoon more mesmerizing in your eyes.

His lips were pretty red, his cheeks were almost as red, his hair was way messier than before, and his hoodie was off his body, revealing the black tank shirt he had, making you take a look at his beautiful milky skin.

"I think you know how my… dynamic is going, but I need your full consent. Would you let me touch you?" He was nervous, but his decision was firm. You place your palms on his cheeks and lean forward for a deep kiss, bringing him closer. 

Sunghoon, being the smart person he is, knew the answer. You two were in the zone, and the passion was visible from a mile away. Both of you are losing it.

"Now, tell me what we talked about the vagina. It can be in your own words."

"It starts with the cervix connecting it to the uterus, and ends with an opening outside the body called the vaginal opening, located between the bladder and rectum. Additionally, it mentions the presence of the G-spot in this area, which can be stimulated manually or during intercourse."

"And what are the other two that you are missing?"

"Clitoris and A-Spot"

"Since I know where the clitoris is, can you tell where the A-Spot is located? Don't forget the function." Now it was your time when an idea popped into your mind. You sat on the bed, your vagina creating contact with the sheets because of the pose you were in, and you took away the last two pieces of clothing on you. Sunghoon leaned back with his palms on the bed to support his weight, his eyes eyeing you up and down.

Sunghoon just can't believe that he was your boyfriend. What did he do in his past life to have someone as mesmerizing and beautiful as you next to him? He didn't even feel worthy to look at you, but the way you crawled back in his direction and made him look at you, the daughter of Aphrodite herself, gave him the confidence he needed. You had your legs to his sides, and your dripping core was on top of his clothed erection; it was obvious that Sunghoon was really trying to focus on self-control.

"You know about the clitoris, but let me tell you about it, mh?" When you took his hand and placed his thumb in her bud, it was over for both of you. "It's located at the top of the vulva, above the vaginal opening. The nerves there are what ultimately make it the powerhouse of pleasure. Licks, touches, and slight pinches are what mostly stimulate it."

"And last but not least?"

"The A-spot is believed by some to have a role in sexual pleasure and arousal in women. It's located deep within the vagina near the cervix; its function is still not fully understood, and more research is needed to elucidate its role in."

"Good job, princess." Sunghoon's lips meet yours after those words. The sudden kiss made you move on top of him, which led to him lightly biting your lower lip and moaning into each other's mouths.

Just like royalty, with a hand on your lower back and behind your knee, he fully lay you down on his bed. Your head touched the pillow, and one last kiss was given to you.

"Is it my turn to teach you, Park?" You smiled at each other while both of your foreheads touched intimately. "If I'm wet enough, lubricate your middle and ring finger." Small pecks were given as he was going along, following your instructions precisely, making you moan at the sensation of your whole area being filled with your natural lubricant.

"I think I can take it from here after all we learned."

"Are you sure? Because I don't think… Oh God." You ate your words when Sunghoon's mouth touched your clit, circling your swollen bud, his middle finger introducing inside you as a test. All the wait was worth it, one hundred percent, and you were thanking all the gods above for those three days of sexual classes that the school made everybody take.

His ring finger was now inside you once you begged him to do it. Sunghoon was being messy since he was inexperienced, but he placed himself above all your "experienced" exes. 

Sunghoon’s finger curled slightly, testing your walls, and the sudden jolt of your hips made his breath hitch. His lips hover right above your dripping core. 

“You’re so tight and wet,” he breathes. He gives attention to your inner thigh with love kisses for a brief moment before he closes the distance again. His tongue brushed your folds; the soft contact felt intense for both of you.

His moan vibrates right through to your core, and you feel his free hand tremble on your hip, fingers tensing. 

Sunghoon’s tongue flicked over you again, slower, his finger curling again, dragging along that sensitive front wall until your thighs suffocated his head. He let out a needy groan, the sound completely muffled by your heat. His free hand slid from your hip to your lower belly, pressing you down gently as if to feel every shiver he caused you.

His nose brushed against your mound, and his breath came out ragged against your skin. “You twitch every time I do that…” he murmured between licks, his voice hoarse but laced with curiosity that was also hunger. “Is this what gets you soaked this fast?”

His fingers moved again—curl, drag, curl, drag—each time his precision and confidence skyrocketed. Sunghoon was multitasking as he mentally recorded each sound you made to keep it in his mind, saving the higher ones. Slick and beyond obscene sounds came from where his fingers moved in and out, and his tongue pressed flat against your clit, sucking briefly before dragging the tip in lazy, wet circles.

Your thighs had a life of their own as they decided not to let your boyfriend go, each word completely muffled and their vibrations landing on your core. "I think I could stay here forever.” Your hips bucked involuntarily, and his free hand tightened on your belly, pinning you down just enough to keep your already trembling steady.

“That’s it… grind on my face,” he rasped, licking you from base to bud. You could see his chin slick and his cheeks flushed. “Use me—yeah, just like that, princess.”

Your fingers found their way to his hair, pulling him closer (although he was beyond close), and instead of shying away, Sunghoon moaned like he was starved. His fingers sped up, curling deeper with desperation, smiling when he found that spongy-like spot again, and his mouth sealed over your clit once again, sucking enough to leave your stomach coiling.

Sunghoon’s jaw was slick now, his lips swollen, and the muscles in his forearm flexed due to the thrust of his fingers. The wet sounds grew shameless—his middle and ring fingers working you out, like he’s already mapped your body in minutes. His mouth continued to suck on your bud, each time was harder and messier, chasing every twitch you gave him like a man possessed. 

“Fuck, I can feel how close you are.”

His hips shifted against the mattress, the fabric of his pants straining. You could feel how he pressed his clothed erection against the bed, a wet patch forming where precum soaked through. 

“Fuck—Sunghoon, let me help you.” He groaned into your heart, the vibration making your thighs clamp tighter around his head. He had to force himself to look up at you; his pupils were dilated, his fucked out expression the same as yours.

“No, I want to stay here,” he said, giving a kiss on the top part of your thigh. “Can’t help it… You taste too good, princess.” He murmured, before diving again, tongue flattening on your clit for the nth time, no pattern whatsoever—just pure need. His free hand gripped your thigh, thumb digging in as if anchoring himself from completely losing control, not knowing he already did.

You gave up as your back arched violently when his fingers curled up and stayed, stroking that wall in perfect rhythm with his tongue. You were out of it, moaning nonstop, getting higher every time. “That’s it… scream for me. Let the neighbor know how I’m making you feel.”

The coil inside you snapped, a raw cry tearing from your throat as your entire body trembled—hips jerking, thighs caging his head, and you feared your nails were raking his scalp. Even after that, Sunghoon didn’t stop.

He moaned into your climax, drinking it in like he’d been waiting his whole life for this, tongue still working you through the aftershocks, fingers moving just enough to prolong it long enough to have your legs quivering uncontrollably.

He left your cunt alone for a few seconds to take a look at you, skin glistening because of the small layer of sweat, lips red due to constantly biting them, eye hooded in pleasure, and hair messy. A masterpiece he did himself without notice.

Sunghoon found himself motivated by the view, diving for a second time, not giving you a chance to come down from that high. Your body was still sensitive, so when you felt his tongue slowly going up your folds again with greed and pretty unbothered by the mess he’d already made, you gasp audibly.

“Hoon—ah! W-wait—” your voice completely broke into a moan. Despite your whole body being tired, your hand still instinctively pushes at his head. He wrapped an arm under your thigh to lock you against his mouth. “How do you learn—shit—so fast?”

He chuckled a little, taking that as a “you’re smart enough to learn how to eat me good” type of compliment. “Too sensitive?” he rasped, tone teasing as his tongue focused on flicking your click quickly. 

You nodded, feeling your high building up again. “Good, then you’ll remember this.”

“Sunghoon, oh God—please, it’s too much—ahh! Fuck, yes—there, right there!” you cried, your voice echoing against the walls of his room. He memorized everything about your body; finding that spot was easy now, and also telling how you were about to hit your orgasm. 

“You want to come again, don’t you? Say it, baby.”

“I’m gonna—Hoon, please don’t stop!” That plea alone turned him feral. His arms firmly grabbed the back of your thighs and started slurping you, sucking hard and messily. His breath was hot and erratic as if your pleasure was the only air he could breathe. “Make a mess on my face, princess. Please.”

This time, your back arched so hard it lifted off the bed, a loud broken scream ripping from your throat as a second orgasm crashed over you, stronger and meaner than the first. You tried to move away to make him feel good now, but he was stronger than you and held your legs open, devouring every bit of your cum with the hunger of a man drunk on you.

“Hoon—oh my God—Hoon! I can’t—” you lied

“Yes, you can,” he said, still lapping your juices. “One more, princess. Fuck, should have done this sooner.”

Your legs trembled violently, your core clenching around nothing for the past round, the overstimulation turning into a delirious high that made tears prick your eyes. He finally pulled with a wet pop.

He sat on the bed close to you, his left hand pulled you, and the only thing you could do was look up because of the height difference. He never took his eyes off your face. The second his fingers went back to you, both of you didn’t care about the pace he was going for, too lost in each other's pleasure. It got sloppy and desperate, to the point where you felt your own high was different than the last two; you reached for his lips to initiate a kiss that was as dirty as the situation itself.

"In case you need to know, princess, this is the A-spot." His mouth attacked one of your naked nipples with eagerness, and his fingers got deeper, moving up and down at a delicious speed. 

Your hand went to his covered dick, the wet patch making direct contact with your hand, his own hips started to grind as if your muffled moans alone got him off.

“You’re dripping—fuck, it’s everywhere—” He took off his fingers to get to his previous position, tongue playing with your aching clit and his finger going right back in. 

Your G-spot was so stimulated that you started to feel the shakes and white dots appearing in your vision, and that familiar knot in your stomach started after a couple of minutes of touching heaven. You felt this sensation of wanting to pee, and if your memory didn’t betray you right now, you were about to have your first squirt.

“Sunghoon—fuck!—step away,” you wailed, now using your hands to push him out of your cunt, but it was impossible. That knot snapped again violently, your choked sob loud enough for him to fill his ego. Warmth gushed out of you, coating his hand, wrist, and mouth as he kept his tongue there for a moment, pulling his head up with his eyes wide open.

“Fuck—yes,—look at that, princess. You’re so fucking beautiful,” he panted, fingers still moving inside you, but slowly. He was coaxing every drop until you were gasping.

Your body went limp as you fell back to the bed, chest heaving, and your pussy was worn out. Sunghoon finally pulled back completely, part of his uniform wet because of your squirt, chin dripping with your cum, he let out a dazed grin show in his face, a proud one even. His hard-on was painfully obvious now, begging to be free from his soaked pants, and the wet patch grew more.

A tired laugh left your lips when you saw Sunghoon's eyes waiting for a comment from you like a puppy. You gave him a tender kiss with your other hand, fixing his front hair.

"You were perfect, Hoon." his fangs showed up with his relieved smile, and he buried himself in the curvature of your neck.

“I think I went a little overboard,” you let out a gasp of air.

“You think?” Your voice came out tired, but you let out a small smile on your face as you were still feeling on cloud nine. “How the fuck did you learn how to eat pussy like that?”

It was his turn to laugh as he made his way to his bathroom. You heard the water running down the faucet, and soon enough, he came back. His lips start to give soft kisses all over your face, his usual shyness showing.

“Do you feel confident that you will pass the test?”

“Will finish in record time, no worries,” he smiled at your quick answer

"Come on, princess, the bathtub is ready for you to clean yourself up, and I'm taking care of the bed."

"Wait!" he stopped at the tone of your voice, and you took him by surprise, placing your hands on his thighs, your eyes still hooded and briefly looking down at his dick. "Can I help you with that before?"

─── UNI NERDY MED STUDENT HOON IS SO 🤤! If you saw this way back on enhablr, it's because it was my very first smut fic, plus I decided to make it better (imo, it's okay if you disagree) and bring it back since I haven't really updated anything.

𓄴 𝐓aglist (mostly moots!): @awqken @taeghi @021894s @hees-love @wwooyology @ja3yun @jaylaxies @enha-stars

[jaeyundazed]

l.hs — illicit affairs.

SUMMARY: the longest years of your life have been the last three, because that's when nari, your sister, introduced you to her boyfriend: lee heeseung. when she leaves for a business trip and forces heeseung to pay you a visit, the layers of your resolve begin to crumble, and things finally come to a head.

TLDR: you give in to years of desire and fuck your sister's long-term boyfriend.

WORD COUNT: 8.0k

ꨄ︎: i've had a nonstop urge to write heeseung lately, and i finally nurtured that with this. if there's one thing user jaeyundazed loves, it's forbiddenness (this is foreshadowing). also, before anyone asks, i do plan to write a part two, but that all depends on if i actually get around to it or not. enjoy, and happy reading! xo

TAGS: smut, unprotected sex, infidelity, reader is 21 and he's 23 but they met when she was 18, (slight) fingering, pet names (baby), oral (f receiving), reader sits on heeseung's face, she's actually so selfish but she's lowkey real, heeseung cums on her stomach, i swear he cleans it up, heeseung speaks so foul about your sister but like whatever you're the main character here not her

Twenty-one years of age, and you don’t even have your own car. Twenty-one years old, and you need a babysitter.

Backtrack—your sister took the car you share. Said she had some kind of business trip. Okay, whatever. That’s fine. You can walk. Take the bus. Hitch a ride.

But when she decides that you’re incapable of holding down the fort for two nights, you can’t help but feel embarrassed. When her boyfriend shows up at the door, completely unannounced because she couldn’t even be bothered to tell you he was coming, you finally hit your breaking point.

“Heeseung? Are you fucking serious? I’m a fucking adult, Nari!” you scream into the phone after angrily dialing her number, her boyfriend standing in the kitchen as he scans the contents of the fridge, laughing to himself at your (reasonable) irritation.

“Look, I just needed to make sure you were okay! Mom and Dad don’t live around here anymore, so he was my best option to check up on you,” she replies like it’s normal, like she’s not acting like a helicopter parent that doesn’t trust their kid.

“You are my sister. You are two years older. I’m not. A fucking. Kid,” you grit out, slamming your hand on the island counter, the cold marble making you hiss. “This is absolutely ridiculous. When you come back, I swear to god I’m gonna consider moving out. I told you a thousand times that I’d be fine, and you still act like I’m a little kid.”

“Y/N—”

“Have a good night, Nari. Enjoy your fucking business dinner.”

You shove your phone into your pocket and turn to Heeseung, who moved to the couch at some point while you fumed at your sister and was apparently basking in the whole ordeal. You can see he’s trying not to laugh, and honestly, you don’t blame him.

“You,” you point, “out. Now.”

He chuckles. “Aw, come on, kid. I just got comfortable.”

“Heeseung, I can assure you, I’m not in the mood for your pretend ‘older brother’ games. You can either walk out that fucking door right now, or shut your mouth and humor me for at least five minutes until I’m not as angry.”

He doesn’t respond. Just raises his eyebrows.

“What’s it gonna be?”

“Alright,” he nods and raises his hands in mock surrender, “you’ve made your point. I’ll be cordial.”

You sigh in relief and palm your forehead. “Thank you,” you breathe out and turn to the cabinets, opening them and searching for something to eat, because it’s almost 11 at night, and you’re suddenly hungry. “You want something to eat? I think we have some ramen le—”

“Fuck, wait,” he shoots up and ends up next to you in about five seconds, catching his breath when you finally turn to look at him.

“May I help you with something?”

“Let me make it,” he says, like it’s a business proposal, and it would actually take a lot of thought and consideration.

You narrow your eyes and give him a once-over. Is this guy for real?

“Wait, you’re—are you serious?” you blink.

“Uh, yeah,” he scoffs. “Come on. You’ve known me for what, three years now, basically? And you don’t know how seriously I take this?”

“You’re fuckin’ weird, man.” You widen your eyes and sigh, but still hand the two packages over to him. “Go crazy. I’ll get drinks and set the table. You know where everything is in here.”

He pumps his fist, and you look at him like he’s a loser. He kind of is. But it’s endearing. You won’t admit that.

When you’re finished setting everything up, you step back and put your hands on your hips as you scan the table. Once you’ve determined that it’ll do, you turn to Heeseung, who is very intensely focused on the way he’s preparing the noodles.

“Done over here,” you say from the table.

“Might be a while,” he calls back, back facing you. “Just relax or something while I finish up.”

“Alright.”

After nearly twenty minutes of meticulously sifting through every kitchen cabinet, raiding the fridge, and sitting over the hot stove, Heeseung finally finishes the ramen. You lean comfortably against the table, examining your fingernails, when he turns around with one bowl in each hand. For a moment, so brief that you almost don’t catch it, he pauses. His eyes don’t move, don’t avert their gaze, or travel elsewhere. He’s just still, for no longer than two seconds.

And then, he’s moving again. Walking towards you and placing the bowls down carefully on the trivet mats you prepared.

“You okay?” you ask, sitting down in your chair, and he mirrors your action.

“Yeah,” he nods. “You uh, changed.”

Realization hits when he points out the change of clothes. He took so long with the food that you decided to pop into your room and change into your sleepwear, since it was so late, and you would probably be going to bed after he left.

That sleepwear consisted of an oversized tee that stopped in the middle of your thighs, slippers, and your hair lazily tied up. Nothing he hasn’t seen before. He practically lives in this house.

“Oh, right. I forgot,” you laugh. “Didn’t want to get my clothes dirty, and it’s late.”

You fall into a quiet conversation as you eat your food together. He may have taken his cooking a little too seriously for a bowl of noodles, but you have to admit that it’s better than when you or Nari make it.

“You mean to tell me that this girl at work actually thinks she has a chance with her boss?”

“I know, I know,” you laugh, spooning some broth into your mouth, the spice tingling on your tongue. “It’s ridiculous. But they’re already fucking, so, like…” You shrug. “Y’know?”

“No chance, I’m telling you,” he says and shakes his head. “From what I’m hearing—and this is my honest opinion—he’s on a power trip. The guy’s married, for fuck’s sake. And she’s his young, hot secretary? Destined for her to fall in love, and he hangs her dry.”

“Heeseung!”

“What?! I’m serious, it’s like a formula with these guys,” he laughs through a full mouth, holding his hand beneath his chin in case anything comes out. You’re laughing, too, because he’s so stupidly blunt that it’s entertaining.

Things are easy with Heeseung. They always are.

And as you look at him, chopsticks swirling mindlessly around in your bowl while he wipes his mouth with a napkin, you notice the smile still on his face. Present as a remnant of his laughter, something you’ve grown to recognize, become accustomed to.

When your sister introduced you to Heeseung, you were barely 18 years old. You had barely even lived your life. Hell, you basically weren’t even legal. And he was 20; almost your age. You feel like you’ve lived a million lives since then. Grown into a different person.

There are only two things tethering you to Nari: your looks, and…well.

Having feelings for Heeseung.

You never meant for things to end up this way. You love Nari (sometimes). She can be frustrating at times, and she’s not always trusting of you, which you always protest, because you’ve never given her reason not to. She’s your sister, and you’re bound to her by blood. But even still, your relationship with her feels like it slips away more every day.

It started as a crush. You were basically a kid. And Heeseung was like a prince. He was kind, soft-spoken, treated you like a princess. Like a younger sister, because he almost had to. And it only made things worse.

Back then, his hair was a little bit shorter, and it was deep red because he used to dye it. Now, it’s dark brown, basically black, and it’s longer. It curls a little at the ends, and a few shorter pieces act like bangs in his face. You always said that would look good on him. Sometimes he wears glasses that you swear only exist to make him seem older and more mature, when he’s only 23.

Still looks like a prince, though.

And you’ve changed, too. You finally grew into your body, ditched the friendship bracelets and constant slick-back ponytails that almost receded your hairline and made you look like a child. You tried your hand at changing your hair. It’s lighter now, has some bleached strands of blonde in it, and it’s gotten curlier with the products you put in it.

Most importantly, you look older. You’ve lost your childhood features, and that is what ices the cake.

You feel like the worst sister in the world. Three years, three whole years of pining for someone who is long taken and far off-limits. That’s why her sending him, of all people, was so infuriating. Because you’re an adult now, or pretty close to it, and being alone with him is just about the most difficult situation to be in.

“Y/N?”

You snap back into reality, feeling the chopsticks between your fingers again, smelling the ramen, and—seeing him. Looking concerned. Using the soft tone that makes your heart sink.

“Are you okay? I lost you there.”

You nod, clearing your throat, and turn back to the food. “Yeah, sorry. Just…thinking.”

“About?”

You. (strikethrough)

“Nari,” you reply. “She’s always…treating me like a kid, like I’m some sort of a—of a liability.” You sigh and look down into the almost empty bowl. “It’s just—fuck, it’s frustrating like you wouldn’t believe.”

“I get it.”

“Not really,” you grit and turn to him. “Heeseung, you call me kid.”

“Yeah, but it’s…really not serious. I’m only joking,” he shrugs. “If you don’t want me to anymore, I won’t.”

“It’s not that simple.”

He looks down at his hands, folded tightly in his lap. He’s breathing heavily through his nose, chest rising and falling, not knowing what to say, how to help. “I don’t see you like that,” he finally mumbles. “Not really.”

“Just stop, Heeseung,” you snap, words having a lot more bite than you intend, but still, you continue. “You’re treating me like a kid. Fuck, I mean—this?” You gesture at the table. “You cooked for me. You still came here when Nari asked, because you must believe it enough, too, to come all the way here to check on me like I’m a goddamn twelve-year-old.”

“You’re her baby sister, Y/N. Yeah, I’m gonna fucking check on you.”

You swallow. Of course, he sees you that way. And you wish it didn’t affect you. “It’s fine, Heeseung.” You stand up and push the chair into place. “Trust me, I hear you loud and fucking clear.”

“Cut the crap, won’t you?” he finally bites back, standing behind you, and you freeze. Not that there was ever a reason for it, but you’ve never heard him lose his temper. Never even raise his voice, for that matter. And especially never at you.

“If you ever wonder why people treat you like that, maybe it’s because you sometimes act like it.”

Your body tenses. And it hurts. Hurts to know that you really have been a child all along. Too naive to realize that whatever fantasy you conjured up in your head clearly wasn’t even close to being true. You turn around, looking at him, standing still with anger, hands tense at his sides. His expression is almost unreadable.

“That’s all you’re ever going to see me as, isn’t it? Nari’s little sister.”

“What, did you want me to see you differently, or something?”

Your heart sinks to your stomach because he hit the nail on the head. That’s exactly what you are to him. What you’ll always be to him, because it’s all you can be. His showing up here, acting like he cares, making you feel seen for even a few minutes, only made things worse. Being alone with him makes things worse. And this is why.

“I…” you hesitate, swallow back the words.

And you brush past him, pretending like it doesn’t sting, like you don’t feel your heart bursting inside your chest. You frantically grab the dishes and throw everything into the sink, turn the water on, and wash them carelessly because the last thing on your mind is whether there’s some leftover food in them or not.

You’re drying them off when you feel him approach you, his presence unyielding. Like you can sense it from a mile away. It looms over you like something so powerful and in control of you that it’s pathetic.

“I don’t know what you expect me to say to that,” you finally mumble as you set the dry dishes down. Still not facing him, facing the truth.

“A yes or no would suffice.”

“Yes,” you finally whip around, almost looking up at him with how close he is to you, all 6 feet of him standing tall above you. “I want you to see me differently. In fact, I want you to want me, Heeseung,” you laugh bitterly. “Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you want me to say?”

He swallows, and his nostrils flare as he stares back at you. You watch the gears turn in his head, unsure of what to think, what to do, if you should continue. Should you move a muscle, would it disrupt him? Make things impossibly worse?

“Why me?” he finally speaks, his voice low and gruff.

“Don’t you think I ask myself that every day?” you retort angrily. “Don’t you think I wish it wasn’t you and I weren’t such a horrible sister?”

“You’re serious,” he states rather than asks.

“It’s not like I would get anything out of lying.”

“Why me?” he repeats like it’s the most important question in the world. Perhaps, it is.

“Because,” you breathe, shaking your head and flailing your arms as you try to pull together something of an explanation. Anything. “Because you’re familiar. Because you know me. Because you’ve always cared for me, even when I refused to accept it, even if it was only platonic. To me, it was everything. So more than anything, I wanted it to be real.”

He scoffs and steps back, shakes his head, and folds his arms across his chest like he’s trying to assume authority over you. “What do you want me to do, huh? Snap my fingers and suddenly feel that way about you just like that?”

“I don’t know what I want, Heeseung,” you admit, voice finally softening, lowering to a register that shows your hurt and embarrassment. “I don’t even know why I’m saying this and admitting it. Fuck, I—I told myself I’d never even let it get this far.”

His eyes visibly darken. It becomes increasingly harder to read him with each passing moment, each steady breath he takes, like he’s so sure of himself and this whole conversation. Like he doesn’t feel anything, like there is nothing to feel. And it scares you, right to your core.

“What were you planning to do, then? Stay quiet? Take it to the grave?” he finally asks as if he had calculated each word in his head before he spoke.

“Probably. I mean, the whole thing, it—felt wrong. I’ve been in denial this whole time because I shouldn’t feel this way about you. Because I can’t.” You take a long, unsteady breath, rivaling his. “And I knew even then you didn’t feel the same. Of course, you didn’t. I was 18, and you—you were 20. It was practically illegal, and now…now I’m 21, and I’ve never felt so young and…small.”

He’s quiet when you speak, pour your heart out to him, lay yourself bare. You’re never vulnerable with him, not about anything, because you’ve never been able to be. Never allowed yourself out of the fear that you would be revealing too much by letting him see those parts of you, the ones that made you too ugly, too naive, and too horrible on the inside. The tension in the air is palpable, his eyes carrying depth and an emotion you can’t quite place. Something deeper in his gaze that, again, strikes you with fear.

He takes a step closer. It's tentative, like he’s testing the waters. Still, for some reason, making sure you’re comfortable.

“I know I sound like an idiot, and you don’t owe me anything,” you whisper, voice guarded, shielding yourself from what he might say. “I already know how you feel.”

“And how do you think I feel,” he counters, steady, grounding, “huh?”

“Like I’m just Nari’s dumb little sister who actually believed she had a chance in hell with you.”

He takes in your words, lets them echo in his head. He does falter at them, even if only slightly and not noticeably to the naked eye.

For whatever reason, one you can’t place and surely won’t try to, he takes another step. His arms have fallen to his sides, hanging loose. Hands tense. Fingertips pressing into his palms to keep him in check. He’s above you again, looking down with all of the intensity from before tenfold. Staring not at you, but through you.

And just like that, your heart pulses, with less time between beats in a crescendo until it’s hammering in your chest, and it almost hurts to breathe.

“You think you have it all figured out,” he mutters, and a wave of electricity ripples through you.

Your eyes trail up to his, dark and intense and nothing like the warm ones you always attributed to him. You’re staring back, wearing vulnerability on your face like makeup. So easy to see, to read.

“You wanna know how I really see you?” he offers, and without a second thought or ounce of consideration, you nod.

You feel the heat radiating off of him, existing between you and filling the air like smoke. He hears your breaths, uneven and stunted, scared and conflicted, but sure of something unspoken.

His gaze, for the first time, flicks down to your lips, lingering before moving back up to one eye, then the other, scanning your face like he’s gauging it. And he finds himself giving in, latching onto something buried beneath the surface, hiding in the cracks of the hardened exterior he worked so hard to build up. Something he suppressed months, years ago, to avoid this very moment, yet still, it seems inevitable.

Heeseung told himself three years ago that you were off limits.

But that voice doesn’t ring in his head anymore.

You lean in, and he meets you halfway, kissing you, hard. When you feel the warmth of his lips on yours, his presence providing comfort in the sea of unsureness and unfamiliarity, you melt into him. It feels natural, right, although every last part of it is entirely wrong, so morally skewed and disrespectful.

You should pull away from him, tell him that you shouldn’t be doing this because of Nari, but you don’t. You don’t want to think about her. You don’t want her name on your lips, and you don’t want it anywhere near his, for you want it to be your name that he thinks of, that he whispers and moans in the sanctuary of your home. That exists alone in his head, even if only for tonight. Just once, you want him to be yours instead of Nari’s.

You’ve already crossed the line; there’s no use in turning back.

Your hands fist the cotton fabric of his t-shirt, gripping him like he’s your lifeline and pulling him closer, needing the friction, the warmth. When he’s fully pressed against you, his arms keeping you firm in your place, your hand slips into his hair, soft and long and perfect beneath your fingertips.

When you tug at it, he groans, and it’s so pretty and deep and everything you could’ve imagined and more. The backs of your knees press against the cold pulls on your kitchen cabinets as he pushes forward. His tongue grazes your bottom lip, greedily asking for entrance, and when your lips part, he devours you further, craving more of the taste of forbiddenness that you offer. His teeth bite down on your lip, and you breathe out a whimper. His hand snakes up the back of your head and yanks the elastic from your hair, letting it loosen enough for him to fist it in his palm and pull you in closer.

You suddenly pull away, flattening your hand on his chest, and push him back just enough to have room to breathe. To look up at him as your shared breaths that force rising and falling chests fill the space between you.

He admires you, lips swollen and glossy, your hair beginning to tangle at the ends. But his expression never changes. Remains stoic through everything: your visible turmoil, your vulnerability, and even his mental gymnastics.

“Just tell me this means something to you,” you force the words out through a heavy breath, sounding bitter on your tongue, so fucking selfish. “Fuck, lie about it, I don’t care. Just tell me I matter. Just…once.”

He hates that you have to put your heart on the line for him. How easily you could be hurt, how fragile you really are. And he knows he shouldn’t say things like that, shouldn’t even be in this predicament, but he is, and if he said it, it wouldn’t exactly be a lie. It would be the complete opposite of one, and that very fact is far more hurtful to her in the long run.

Heeseung is selfish, too.

”You matter,” he whispers into your neck as he kisses a line down to the place where it meets your shoulder. “God, you matter too much.”

And you believe it. Not just because you have no choice, but because you’ve never heard him sound so sure of anything in his life.

“Good,” is all you manage until you kiss him again, harder, deeper.

It conveys everything you don’t say, everything you wish you could, how his every move makes you pray things were different, how you fall further under his spell with every cycle of day and night, every rotation around the Sun. And all the while, it’s your sister that he comes to this place for, never you. But that’s all you’ve ever wanted.

But Heeseung understands you. It’s in this very moment, when his hands slide to the underside of your thighs and lift you, holding you against him with your legs wrapped oh, so tightly around his waist, that you begin to realize that.

Every stolen glance, every time he’s been here at your lowest points, his silent once-overs that always went unnoticed—they all made sense now. You were never alone in how you felt, because Heeseung was always directly beside you, hand ghosting over yours, but never fully taking it until tonight, when you finally held it out to him.

Your palms grip his shoulders for stability as you kiss him again, slower, but deeper, tilting your head to feel more of him. He walks out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and down the hallway, leading to your room like he’s had this very route mapped out for decades in his head. He kicks the door shut, doesn’t bother to lock it, and lays you out on the bed, the oversized shirt you opted for riding up, exposing your midriff and the black panties underneath, where he can spot his effect on you from a mile away, regardless of how dark they might be.

His arms cross over his front, grip the hem of the shirt, and yank it off with ease, revealing him to you, so beautiful and so perfectly him. You place a hand on his stomach, soft and warm to the touch, letting it glide gently up to his chest just to make sure it’s real, he’s real, and this is all happening.

He leans over and hovers above you, eyes glazing over your figure before his lips gently press against yours, and he lowers his weight onto you, but still holding himself up enough that you can comfortably breathe. You sigh when he attaches himself to your neck, sucking at the sweet spot he already found with ease and precision as your hand snakes into his hair again.

“Sometimes, I used to think that this was for me. To get my attention,” you admit breathlessly as his tongue licks a cool stripe up the side of your neck, and you shiver.

“Sometimes, I still wonder.”

“How bold of you to assume I’d grow my hair for you,” he teases with a grin that you feel against your neck, his hands running along the sides of your body as if he’s trying to commit it to memory and learn how it works. “But if it has you on edge like this,” he whispers, pressing a tender kiss to your jaw, “then yes. It was for you.”

At that, you moan.

Your hands viciously grip his biceps when his hand suddenly slips between your thighs and drags along your clothed core, radiating what feels like a thousand degrees worth of heat onto his skin. His fingertips glide upward, and his thumb presses directly over your clit, found so easily, like he’s a fucking expert. Like he somehow already knows your body.

Your back arches off the mattress, just enough to prove that what he’s doing is working, joined by a weak noise that sets it in stone. Show him that it feels good, that you want him to continue. Hell, you need it like the air you breathe.

He slips one finger beneath the fabric, drags it along the smooth, slick flesh, and a noise that falls between a whimper and a moan slips out. “Fuck, you’re soaked,” he marvels in disbelief as you writhe under his grasp, wanting more, chasing the pads of his fingers.

“Usually am with you,” you mumble back, and he grins.

His middle finger slips inside like he just wants to test how easily you’ll take it, and the answer is solid: very. You bite back another breathy noise, but it’s hard because his finger is so long, and thick, and deep, and he’s wearing a ring on it that’s cool to the touch when it glides along your walls. Damn him for wearing them; you always found it attractive, but this? Too far.

He removes his hand from your underwear, and his fingers curl under the hem of your shirt with finality, a look of sincerity and certainty flashing across his face. His hesitation is a silent plea for permission, a gesture that asks the question and tells you that he cares about your comfort, about your satisfaction. What you want.

You just nod, slowly raising your arms as he pulls the shirt along your body and lifts it up and over your head, tossing it off somewhere to the side where it remains irrelevant.

His eyes light up at the sight of your body, glazing over it as if it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. You opted out of a bra when you changed, but you never expected this, so it really wasn’t intentional. But he’s thankful, and when he leans down to press kisses from your collarbone down to the valley of your chest, you know.

“Fuck,” he whispers, but it sounds more like he’s scolding himself than anything.

His hands knead the soft swell of your breasts as his mouth continues its descent, and eventually, he reaches the thin waistband of your panties. His gaze meets yours, another hesitant ask of permission with his finger hooked into the fabric, sliding it back and forth, waiting.

You lift your hips for him, and the panties are off within seconds, his face practically lighting up at the sight, palms resting atop your knees as he pushes them apart.

“Beautiful,” he whispers into the warm flesh of your inner thigh, giving it a few tender kisses as he draws closer to your core, wet and dripping and still reeling from when he stuck a finger inside just to tease you. “So fucking perfect.”

“Yeah?” you manage with a surge of confidence, even if it’s false, even if it’s stupid. “More than her?”

He gives one small, feather-light kiss to your clit and allows his lips to linger above, and you feel the exhale of breath from his nose grazing your sensitive skin, forcing a shiver through your body.

“More than her,” he repeats like a confirmation, and your stomach churns.

When he moves back up to your face, eyeing you like the most expensive jewel in the world, you’re lost and confused, because he just left the ache between your thighs unsatisfied.

But then, unexpectedly, and with a smirk that makes you fold, he rolls over. Lifts a finger and gestures towards his face with eyes so intentionally innocent, yet so desperate, like he needs this, like he’s been wishing on it for decades.

You’ve been eaten out more times than you’re comfortable with admitting, but you’ve never sat on a man’s face before, and the offer shocks you. But like, this is Heeseung. Like, Lee fucking Heeseung, who you’ve been pining for since you were still in high school. You’d be lying if you said you’ve never thought about riding his face with a nose like that.

And if the things you’ve overheard your sister say are anything to go by, you’ll be just fine.

So you slowly turn and swing your leg over his torso, and his hands come around and up to your waist, where he senses your hesitation and runs his palms along your sides soothingly. You plant your knees into the mattress, one on each side of his head, hovering, looking down, swallowing.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs, kissing your inner thigh.

With gentle force, he tugs you down, settling his face between your thighs. Another ghost of a kiss brushes your clit, and you suck in a breath, shooting a hand to the headboard to ground yourself.

“Heeseung.”

When his tongue first licks along the expanse of your folds, dripping wet with arousal, all you can do is moan. Finally getting the satisfaction you’ve been craving, the feeling you’ve been imagining for years, yet nothing close to what you conjured up in your head.

He’s like a man fucking starved down there, lapping at you, craving that sweet and forbidden taste you hand to him on a silver platter like a five-course meal. He moans, and it’s so throaty, so raw and filthy that your hips jolt. He’s pulling you closer, burying himself in your heat, your thighs practically suffocating him beneath you, and your high-pitched and weak moans are proof enough that you’re more than satisfied.

Your free hand moves into his silky hair, wet at the tips with the sweat that beads at his forehead, and you brush it back. Push his head closer, craving the friction, the way he devours you like he hasn’t eaten in weeks.

As his tongue delves into you, long and wet, his nose grazes the mound of flesh above. “Heeseung, fuck,” you whimper, and he grins, moving faster, harder, more precise. “God.”

It’s now that you realize he’s doing this with the full intent of getting you off on it. No fingers. No touching. Just his mouth and unyielding determination. And he knows you’re too weak to not let it happen, because three years of nothing but desire and pure, unwanted lust do that to a person. Your head lolls back, and your thighs jerk, clenching for a beat around his head.

He laughs. Fucking evil.

Okay, whatever. That’s fine.

But suddenly, it’s not so funny to him anymore when you shift your weight back, now properly sitting on him, and smother him as your hips drag along his face, riding it as you chase the high.

And he basically whimpers. Lee Heeseung, the older, taken, unattainable figure in your life for three long years, whimpers. Like you’re everything he can’t have, and you really are. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, claw at them to keep you just where you are.

The line in your stomach is taut; one foul move and it’s over.

“Taste good,” you hear him mumble, and you grip the headboard tighter, feel the wooden edges slice into your skin and threaten to splinter your palms. Pull his hair like it’s the only thing keeping you sane, keeping you from losing any control you have left over your body.

His tongue flattens over your clit, applies pressure, and—well, fuck. There’s the foul move.

It’s not quiet. Not gentle. Not neat when you come, right on his face, messy and wet and loud as you ride the high out, letting him soak up every last drop you’ll give him. He grips you tighter and draws the wet skin into his mouth, sucking gently, prolonging the sensation for as long as possible, until finally, you’re limp above him. Breaths coming out in waves, uneven and heavy. Gripping the headboard like your life depends on it.

Finally, he gives himself enough room to slip out from under you and rise to his knees behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his chest to your back. He lifts a hand to brush your hair to the side, exposing the side of your neck where he tentatively kisses a small path downward, the leftover wetness from his chin transferring over to your skin.

“She’s so,” you whisper, your breath still not caught up with you, mind racing faster than the words can come out. “So goddamn lucky.”

Heeseung lifts his head. “You think I’ve done that with her?”

You turn just enough to catch a glimpse of his face in your peripheral vision. “Haven’t you?”

“No,” he simply replies like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and your expression falters because you don’t think you’ve ever heard him say something so truthfully, and that? That scares you.

“You think I would?” he rephrases, and it only curls your stomach more. “Your sister is basically a prude,” he mumbles, “and besides,” he inches closer, your body still trembling with aftershock and nerves mixed into one, lowering his voice as if someone will hear, as if there even is someone to hear it, “you’re the better option.”

It’s cruel and cold, and you should defend Nari, should muster up the strength to push him off and tell him how horrible it is, how immoral. But you don’t. You don’t, because your mind thinks back to every time she’s made you feel unworthy of her trust, how she’s mistreated you, and how breathtakingly gorgeous her boyfriend is, telling you that, in this moment, just like you asked for—he wants you, not her.

His finger tilts your chin up, and you weakly reciprocate when he kisses you again, slower but deeper, sighing into his mouth, his every touch more intoxicating than the last. You taste the new sweetness on his tongue, something you gave him happily, and it sets the fire within you ablaze. Your hand travels up his body and rests at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, lathering them in spit before sliding them between your legs again, touching you again. Pushing them in and taking them out of you in irregular patterns, just to keep you on edge, build you up again for when you’re really going to be full of him.

He’s sweating. The small beads of liquid that drip down his face and neck are partially black from the fresh dye. You didn’t even notice that he redyed it until now, because you’ve been so distracted that you’ve barely even glanced at him properly. The things you find attractive these days.

You reach back to find the tie on his sweatpants and pull it undone with as much force as you can muster. You’ve always speculated that he’s a handful, especially with some of the things you’ve heard from your sister, but the tent he’s managed to pitch in his pants says it’s a lot more than you bargained for.

He makes a noise that borders on a groan and works to get them off, the only remaining barrier between you, and suddenly, you feel it.

Your back is still to his chest. You’re practically sitting in his lap, perched there like a puppet. And the head of his cock is prodding at you, dragging along your folds like his fingers did before.

“Oh, fuck,” you sigh when he sinks into you, feeling his palm pressing hard into your stomach as the other hand braces himself on the mattress. His lips skim along your neck, leaving kisses and small marks in their wake, your hand still firm on the back of his head.

And you were right—he’s fucking big.

Not so big that he’s going to split you in half, but you feel every last inch with the push, and, much like sitting on the guy’s face, it’s entirely different than what you’re used to. And it’s Heeseung. Does it even matter?

You try to roll your hips, and he meets you halfway, making it all the more gratifying to feel the slide, so easy from how he managed to get you just wet enough for it. It feels so good that you think you might love him, and it’s probably an exaggeration and a result of infatuation, more or less, but it seems like he might actually reciprocate it with how he’s been going about this. Then again, you already knew he was great in bed, so how much different is he really being with you versus your sister?

Besides her not using his (stunning) face as a chair. Interesting.

“Heeseung,” you moan like he’s a god, and you’re worshipping him, kissing the ground he walks on. He holds you so perfectly, makes every thrust of his hips so determined and purposeful that the only thought left bouncing around in your head is how good it feels to finally have him like this.

As your ass repeatedly makes contact with his lower stomach, he grips you tighter and breathes out a deep groan. But he wants more. Needs to see your face when you fall apart around him, for him, because of him.

So in an intentional manner, he sits up and leans forward, using his arm to turn you around, and presses you flat onto the mattress, your back hitting the sheets and immediately sticking to them from the accumulated sweat.

He settles between your legs and pushes back in like he never left, your pussy welcoming him with ease, letting him sink so deep, exponentially more than before, and you whine at the feeling. He moves a hand under your thigh and slings your leg over his shoulder, letting him bury into you even further, if even possible.

When he finally thrusts in again, it’s not slow, and not inherently fast, but it’s hard, pulling out until only the tip is still inside and pushing back in fully with every stroke. Your hands grasp his biceps, needing something to hold onto and deciding that his repeatedly flexing muscles are exactly what you need beneath your palms. His lips press against your ankle, moving down to your calf like you’re his point of worship, touch so reverent because, to him, you deserve it.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he mumbles against your skin, holding you tighter. “You don’t know what you do to me. Every single day. It’s like punishment.”

Words can’t describe how it feels to hear him say that. To know that you’ve never been the only one silently suffering, that he’s felt the same way for just as long as you. That he’s just as shitty as you are for giving up on suppressing it.

You try to watch, to look at him, bask in the almost painful pleasure that he’s giving you, because there’s no way that this will happen again. That Heeseung, the man your sister wants to marry and probably will, will ever take you on your own bed like this again, hover above you, kiss you so passionately. Look at you like you’re his everything and take every breath like it’s his last.

“Heeseung,” you whisper like a plea, begging for his attention, his gaze for just a moment. Just long enough to squeeze out the words, bitter in the air. “More.”

You practically iron-fist his arms, needing the stability, craving more like a drug. “Every dream, every fantasy, I want them to be real,” you beg, trying to distract your mind from the intensity of his thrusts, choking out every word like it’s paining you to speak. “Fuck me like you want it, too. Please.”

Without a word, he throws your leg off his shoulder and yanks your waist towards him, practically slamming you into him with the impact, and it pulls a loud yelp from your throat, one you have no control over.

He leans down, hooks his arm under your leg, and moves his hand to the underside of your jaw, gripping you like his life depends on it. Like something inside of him snapped, and all that’s left is desire, pure and unbridled. The shredded remnants of the control he tried so hard to keep, scattered across the floor and nowhere near his body.

He kisses you senseless, thrusts so hard and so deep into you that you struggle to breathe, tears pricking at your eyes from the sheer pleasure. The way the moment is drenched in filth, how he fucks into you so shamelessly like it’s normal, like his infidelity doesn’t concern him. And you love it—the rush you get, how perfect he feels when he repeatedly hits the sweet spot buried inside of you, pushing you further and further until you can’t take it anymore.

You break the kiss with a hiss, throwing your head back, and he brushes your hair out of your face, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Look at me.”

You unsqueeze your eyes and lift your head. At the sight of him, so raw and unfiltered, every feeling you’ve ever had for him comes flooding into the forefront of your mind without restraint. Every time you’ve looked at him and wished he were yours, every time you’ve stood by and watched Nari get him all to herself, every time you’ve seen him so enamored by her and longed for him to look at you that way. And now, he is, with something else buried in his gaze that you’ve never seen before, never directed at you, and never at your sister.

It all culminates in your head, clouds your mind, and forces the coil in your stomach to snap again, losing any and all sense of control altogether.

Your nails dig into his back as a string of moans and screams wisp into the air and bind into the walls, all mixed with his name, still so foreign on your lips like this. Echo around the room, bouncing back into your ears and reminding you of how you sound cumming on a taken man’s cock, let alone by your sister, of all people. How dirty and repulsive you are for it, and more so for not even caring.

He twitches inside you, and you feel it, know it’s coming, especially when he presses his forehead to yours and reaches down. Pulls out, and both he and you watch as he strokes himself until the strings of hot, white liquid finally shoot out and land on your stomach. A moan tumbles from his mouth, and god, it’s so attractive, so beautiful just like him. Breathy and weak, and sexy, if anything.

Mingled breaths fill the room, joined by the faint noise of crickets chirping outside your cracked window, a breeze flowing through the room and forcing both of your bare, sweat-slicked bodies to shiver. Heeseung laughs, and you match it softly, tangling your fingers in his hair as he lies still above you.

A few minutes pass as a comfortable silence falls between you, letting you both recover from the night’s events. Your body still trembles with the aftershocks, the good kind that make you feel alive and alert, but they finally disperse with the calm of the moment and the crisp breezes that trickle in periodically and ground you.

When you’ve both reached the shared state of relaxation, he slowly lifts himself off of you, and you frown, wishing the moment wasn’t over, that it would never end. But you suppose every dream must reach that point eventually.

He reaches for his sweatpants and lazily puts them back on, not bothering to tie them, and walks into the bathroom. You hear shuffling, the opening and closing of closet doors and cabinets, water running for a few short seconds, and he suddenly reappears. A small cloth sits in his hand, and your eyes follow him as he kneels beside you on the bed.

You thought he was going to leave.

He presses the warm cloth onto your stomach, and you exhale gently, relaxed by the feeling. He makes soft, careful work of cleaning you up, placing a hand on your knee and pulling it open just enough to make room to clean the rest of any leftover mess there. You suck in a breath at the initial contact, still sensitive from everything, but he leans over to kiss your knee and offer you comfort.

After everything, the last thing you expected was for him to care for you like this, especially given the circumstances. And even then, it’s not something you generally expect of him at all.

You remember something akin to ‘he just rolls over and goes to sleep’. It settles in your stomach, and you suppose you must be a little important to him.

He treats you like you’re fragile, something so easily breakable with one wrong move, and it was always something you resented. But now, when he’s tossing the cloth into the nearby hamper and handing you his shirt from the edge of the bed to wear, you’re okay with it.

You feel comfortable wrapped in the soft fabric. Knowing that it belongs to him is enough. He tugs the sheets over you and pulls your back into his chest, kissing the exposed skin on your shoulder from the largeness of the shirt.

“Are you gonna tell her?” you finally whisper, letting the words hang in the air, almost making it stale at the mention of her.

“No,” he whispers back.

You swallow, placing your hand atop his on your stomach. “Stay?”

He nods.

I want more, you want to say, but the words die on your tongue. You can’t. You shouldn’t. I think I love you.

Chances are, it’s still just a culmination of every emotion that flowed through you tonight and clouded your better judgment. But still, there’s an ache in your chest, right where your heart sits, that makes you feel otherwise.

Maybe it’s the way he holds you so tenderly in his arms as if you’re the Sun and he’s the stars, surrounding you with light and love and everlasting joy. Eccentuates your beauty with his own and decorates your world with as much color as he can offer. Maybe it’s the way he does feel the attraction to you that you always wished for. Or maybe it’s the way that he made you feel seen tonight in ways you never have before, ones that were too intimate to be sealed away in this room, where you lie comfortably in his hold and drift off to sleep peacefully, and he stays awake until you’re not.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. Because Heeseung is with Nari.

And for that reason, you can’t love him.

— © jaeyundazed 2025..

[enlogs]

ex!bf jake pls 🙏

— texts with your ex boyfriend jake

pairing: ex boyfriend! jake sim x ex! reader

author's note: they probably broke up because y/n was breathing too loud when jake was overstimulated lawl. also the difference between this one and the other ex boyfriend request i answered HELP