#and what they think should be done about it

[nemesyaaa]

❝ no brain. only big arms and fat thighs.❞

featuring himbo!rafe x reader.

⸻★himbo!rafe who’s a beast of muscles, all beefy and heavy, literally the bulky man towering everyone around him. when he's not putting on his stupid preppy kook dressing, he loves wearing those little tight t-shirts that are too small to fit his big tits but shows off his well-shaped six pack.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who is the king of manspreading. you can be sure that his massive legs are always highly spreaded every time he sits down somewhere. bonus, when he's wearing one of those favorite shorts after going to the gym, and his thick thighs are naked enough to reveal his fleshy skin filled with hard stunning veins.

✦ He's HUGE so ofc, he's gonna take a lot of place. ⸻ “sit on my lap, baby. you don't need a seat. ”

⸻★ he's more a female magnet than a womanizer. attracts women as well as he knows how to catch them but it doesn't mean he's got a hard interest in them. you're the one he cares about. he's not smart enough to get them with his brain but like any good himbos, he knows how to use his physique to his advantage. ⸻ his pretty face saves his lack of culture.

⸻★ biggest and proud member of the thirst trap community. you can be sure that he posts hundreds of photos after the gym of his large thighs and strong arms, flexing his muscle on the bathroom mirror to get all those veiny lines bulging his thick biceps and pecs.

⸻ he likes to pretend that it's for his gym bros but will delete the story if you don't see or react to his post.

✦ of course, he's an attention whore when it comes to you. that's a true himbo.

( the rest under the cut...)

⸻★ himbo!rafe who will take every opportunity he gets to show you how strong he is.

no matter your weight, he's bigger than you so don't you dare worry about your body size. you're perfect. he's gonna lift you up so easily, and it's also an excuse to show you how well–builded he is.

✦ if your feets hurt, he will carry you a short distance as well as a long one. he will open all the jam jars for you, and carry all your bags and suitcases. with him, you won't move a finger and you can be sure that you won't break any nails.

✦ you are a princess to him, and he will treat you with all the respect a girl like you deserves. he doesn't call you his baby for nothing.

✦ and that man loves to smack on your ass but you immediately need to calm him down because he doesn't know about his heavy strength. like this man, he's kind of a beast, could bruise you with just one good slap.

⸻★ big addict when you touch and compliment his physique. like yes, praise him. you're the gool girl he craves and literally dreams of. huge simp when you've just done your nails and you're testing their quality on him. he loves having your wild marks on his skin. come on, he's big. ⸻ his huge size is literally not for the WEAK so he's begging at your feets for you to use your nails on him. he wants you to dig them so hard so that every time he looks at his broaden back in the mirror, he remembers why he's paying for any of your girls appointments.

⸻★ 100% jealous. he’s really is. he doesn't want to share you. even if you're not his girlfriend, he’s convinced that you are his and that you belong to him.

the problem with himbo!rafe is that he's not really that smart... even if you're the one who made the first move with this guy in the club, you can be sure that the innocent person with whom you flirted will end up in a hospital bed...⸻while you will have all the privilege of ending up in his bed. (women can do no wrong)

he doesn't want to hear or know the context. (be serious, he's not gonna understand it in any case.) like any himbos, he hates to think. he only trusts what he sees. so if he has to spend all the party breaking the jaws of all these guys around you, you can be sure he will do it.

you don't want to care about him ? he's gonna show you a reason why you should.

this man will literally fight. yea, he got muscles to show off but also to be sure to destroy his rivals.

he is proactive. he acts, he does not think.

⸻★ if you want to go out in a short dress, a mini skirt, any tiny piece of clothing, you can be sure that he won't say no but will be clinging to you like a leech. like he's okay with your outfit but you don't go anywhere without him. it's THE RULE.

✦ if you're not okay with that, fine. you're gonna cry about it at home.

and you can pout, he doesn't care. (you're still pretty so…)he will literally mock you by saying don't play games you're gonna lose if you want to win.

“ but raf…” you start. but he doesn't care. “ do not rafe me. you've done enough tonight. ” “ i want to go to the party ! ” “ no, you just want to get on my nerves so you stay here. ”

but if you're going out and the other boys want to look at you, there's no problem. you can be sure that in the next second, their faces will be too broken to continue staring at you.

⸻★ don't talk to him about things that are too complicated like politics, ecology or feminism, you're gonna waste your time. the only thing on his mind is you so don't confuse him with things he'll never understand.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who adores when you need him. like, if this man doesn't wait for your call every time.... that's probably the only reason he has a phone.

he loves when you need him, even for random things. you need a driver? he is there. you need money? give him the amount and it's done. you need advice on your new outfit? he's gonna worship you.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who always got a soft spot for you and called you by sweet nicknames like baby, princess, peach, and pretty. he's listening to everything you have to say, don't make you repeat even if he doesn't understand a single word of what you're saying. ⸻ “ rafe, you're not listening. ” you shouted softly, snapping at him. “ of course, i'm listening baby. ” “ okay so what did I say ? ” “ that you wanna hang out with me tonight ? ” he proposed with such an obvious smile that you're forced to laugh at his audacity. “ i didn't say that. ” “ okay, but do you wanna hang out tonight ? you can't say no. i mean, it's yes or yes. ” “ okay, i wanna hang out with you tonight. ”

if you hate some people, you can be sure he's gonna be the biggest hater of those people too. but easy girl, because he's also the biggest hater of boys that you love.

✦ himbo!rafe who loves when you cry on his arms because one, his ego needs to be the first man you think about when you're sad, but also because he loves to carry you against him. shush you everytime you sob, but also kiss your forehead dearly. he's so gentle at the moment, but the moment he knows the name of who makes you cry, he's turning into an evil man.

⸻★ when you show interest in him, he loses his mind. he's like a sweet giant puppy. he's not the type to blush when you look at him but he just wants to squish you in his big arms. like, you are so nice and pretty.

you make him feel so dumb ( when in fact, he's really stupid on daily and it's not about you.)

⸻★ it's also a sucker for the size difference between the two of you. like, you are so small compared to him. so, don't try to run away from him, he will always be faster than you. himbo!rafe loves to play around with it, resting his arms on your head when he's next to you, joking about your small feets compared to him, pretending to not see you when you're around.

it's all a joke until he finds that thing can be a kink…

and that you’re maybe into it.

⸻★ himbo!rafe who's is a BIG VIRGIN not because he doesn't get any opportunities to fuck some bitches but this man wants to get his first time with you and only you.

✦ not only he cares about his virginity, but he does checks on yours every time.

⸻★ he's got a nice cock if you ask, everything so good-shaped about him…but god, he's such an himbo. there is nothing in his brain, so don't expect your dumb puppy to know how to use his pretty dick.

[honey-tongued-devil]

[Arcane preference] reacting to a jealous s/o

Disclaimer: I’ve had about ten different requests regarding jealousy, and while this doesn’t cover all of them, it does address some. Disclaimer #2: It would be out of character to write that everyone handles it perfectly, so read at your own discretion. Lastly, as always, I’ve got an Arcane longfic in progress! If you’d like to read it, click HERE, and it’ll take you straight to the AO3 page.

Jayce:

You need to get a grip.

He’s an understanding person, but there’s a limit to everything. If jealousy stems from insecurity and is brought up as a calm and peaceful discussion, he’ll sit beside you to talk it out.

However, if it’s a scene, if it escalates into yelling, restrictive demands on his freedom, or absurd and over-the-top behavior, he’ll enter a period of coldness where he’ll reflect on things.

But if it happens again, don’t expect understanding.

You can’t expect to publicly humiliate someone like that, try to control them because of your own insecurities, and not face a negative reaction.

Viktor:

Raises an eyebrow, his only initial reaction.

The first thing he’ll do is laugh—whether because he finds the situation ridiculous or it’s just an instinctive response, that’s what you’ll see first.

From his perspective, he’s working like a beast of burden not just to be independent but to be a person with dignity, breaking free from the dynamic imposed by Zaun and Piltover that has shackled him like some original sin. And now, not only do you not trust him, but you’re also trying to put him back in the role of a pet that needs taming and obedience.

He knows he hasn’t done anything wrong, knows he hasn’t been giving attention to anyone else but you and his work.

That’s why jealousy only damages the relationship.

Ekko:

Perplexed.

Assuming no one would take a public scene well, in the case of a civil confrontation, he’d mostly be confused.

It makes sense, sure, given how close-knit all the Firelights are, but it never occurred to him that it might bother you.

He doesn’t even know how he should react. He’d definitely try to talk with you, figure out what exactly made you feel that way, and explain the ambiguous situation that set you off.

A scene isn’t a dealbreaker with him, but it does lead to a few days of awkwardness before a fight inevitably happens.

That doesn’t mean he lacks self-respect, though. After the umpteenth time, he’ll simply give up.

Vander:

He’s too old for this kind of nonsense, to be honest.

If you throw a scene, he’ll just ignore it. He’ll let you yell and stomp your feet until you’re out of energy, let you cool off, and then come back to have a conversation.

His response will be laced with irony, like, “Well, who wouldn’t be jealous of the most charming man in the Lanes, after all?” But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t take the issue seriously—he’s just trying to lighten the mood.

He’ll ask how you think he should handle it but ultimately decides for himself whether your request is reasonable or over the top.

When you lose your cool, he’ll treat you the same way he used to handle kids throwing tantrums.

Silco:

Let’s assume no one would dare make a scene in public with Silco out of pure survival instinct. That alone would be an immediate dealbreaker, and you wouldn’t have any chance to confront, talk, or even approach his space again.

A private scene would irritate him regardless. When you’re done, his response would be, “Is that all?”

He’s a diplomatic person. The idea of yelling—or even wasting unnecessary energy on these trivial little issues when his vision is grand, almost boundless—feels almost insulting to him.

If, however, you approach it as a calm and rational discussion, while he may still feel mildly annoyed, he’ll try to reassure you and help you understand that there’s no real reason for you to feel that way.

Jinx:

A fertile ground for conflict, given her fear of abandonment, obsessiveness, and jealousy.

Reverse card: if you start a scene, there’s a high chance she’ll throw it right back at you, leading to a full-blown argument.

Her fear of losing you means that even if your request makes her furious, she’ll still do what you want.

Not the healthiest relationship you could have, but hey, who am I to judge?

She’s not one to leave arguments unresolved. After the shouting match, there have to be cuddles, even if only to prove there’s no lingering resentment between you two.

Vi:

Completely caught off guard.

Now, no one likes a scene, BUT she grew up with a sister who felt emotions way too strongly, so there’s a good chance she’ll switch into “caregiver” mode and try to calm you down immediately instead of getting mad.

She wasn’t expecting an outburst like that. She’s likely more hurt by the fact that you feel this way than anything else.

After the fight, she’ll probably ask to hold you for a bit, trying to make up for unintentionally hurting you.

She’s open to changing the things you need her to change because she values you more than other people.

Caitlyn:

Caitlyn’s problem is that she has the dignity—and let’s be honest, that’s what it is—to tell you to fuck off after a jealous scene, especially if it’s in public. But unfortunately, she pours her soul into relationships, so she’ll try to talk it out.

She’ll meet you halfway within reason. Obviously, you can’t ask her to stop going out alone with colleagues after work, but if your concerns are more reasonable, she’ll try to accommodate them.

However, that doesn’t mean she’ll be calm immediately after the scene. Quite the opposite. She’ll need the rest of the day to cool off and a night’s sleep to forget how angry she was.

If you handle things diplomatically instead of with a scene, she won’t be angry but might feel a bit sad.

Mel:

If you throw a scene, expect to be left right where you are—literally.

If you want to yell, stomp your feet, and act immature, she’ll just turn and walk away, and you’ll find out the state of your relationship when you try to return to your shared apartment and find it empty.

It’s not about pettiness; it’s about the humiliation of being publicly exposed, about dragging your private matters into the open, showing so little respect that you can’t even grant her privacy.

If it’s a discussion, prepare to bottle it up.

Everything she does is for appearances, for trust, and as a political figure, she can’t neglect something as crucial as her public image.

It’s up to you to trust her enough.

Sevika:

A public scene disgusts her and puts her in a horrible position. She’ll be mocked—Silco will hit her once and tell her that “You walk her like a dog,” and his goons won’t let her live it down either.

Depending on her mood, the timing, and countless other factors, her reaction could range from ignoring you to screaming at you in the bar to telling you to get a grip or even walking away and ending it.

It’s about respect, pride, and understanding where your limits lie—and this might be one of those moments where you’ve crossed the line.

If you talk things out calmly, don’t expect her to console you. Whether you trust her or not isn’t her problem.

She holds no grudges, but she also has no intention of babying you.

[rosenclaws]

Can you write about flat!reader x any Logan, where she is insecure of basically having no tits (like me) so she wants to keep a shirt on during sex and stuff and Logan notices and stuff lol

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, dirty talk, mirror sex, doggy style, creampie, insecurity, the reader says self deprecating things about themselves, light choking, breast play

a/n: YES YES, I'm flat as fuck and I am super self conscious about them. These mfs look like mosquito bites on god. (I hate them so much bro just let me get some work done PLZ) Anyways Im doing this with Worst Logan bc I love him. Anyways.

Sometimes it was hard dating a man like Logan. It wasn't hard to love him, no not at all. Even with the baggage he claimed to have come with, it wasn't hard to deal with the nightmares or the moments of deep loathing and insecurity. You loved him and because of that being able to help him through it all was easy.

What was hard was dating a man who was over 200 years old and looked like a Greek fucking god.

The first time you ever saw Logan without his shirt was when you were visiting Wade. Logan walked out in nothing but pajama pants. You shamelessly eye-fucked the man before you. He was ripped. Strong arms, a six pack, big thighs, and a handsome face. Even after you started dating and managed to get him on a diet that was more than whiskey and cigars he was still unbelievably hot. You should feel lucky to have a man like that worship you and you love and appreciate him to death. The problem is that you felt like you couldn't compare.

Logan loves you and you know he does but when you're looking in the mirror you can't help but notice you're lacking in one specific area. Your boobs. You were flat and the world seemed to never let you forget it.

Cute tops you could never wear because your chest couldn't keep them up. Jokes about being flat as a board. You couldn't even hold them in your hands. You hated them. Logan never said anything about them but you were always too afraid to bring it up.

So you sat in this limbo of deep insecurity.

"Sweetheart? You still in there?" Logans muffled voice comes from behind the bathroom door.

Shit you didn't mean to be here for so long. A shower had turned into staring at the mirror. You covered them in your hands, pushing them together and huffing when they just looked sad. The events from earlier in the night replaying over in your head.

Ever since Logan showed up in the universe he had garnered some attention. The Wolverine was hard to hide. People would point and whisper whenever they saw him. Gossip about who he was and why he was here. It was all pointless to Logan. Still in the bathroom of the bar you managed to catch a conversation.

Two beautiful women talking about your boyfriend and how badly they wanted him. Talking about flirting with him and taking him home. It just hurt a little. Sure Logan could care less about anyone's advances but yours but they had truly gotten into your head.

Would Logan want someone who had...better assets?

Would he want a woman who's breasts he could hold, squeeze, rest his head on? It was silly but they were the one thing that you honestly just didn't like about yourself so it was hard to think logically about it.

"I'm coming in." Logan's voice calls again. You curse quietly as you scramble to get a shirt on. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like this. Logan's eyes shamelessly look you up and down as he enters the bathroom. A small smirk growing on his lips as he leans against the door. You bite your lip as you look down towards the counter.

"Sorry, I just wanted to take an extra long shower." You lie, smiling at Logan.

He hums and pushes off the door. He comes to stand behind you, his arms snaking around your waist. You were dressed in nothing but a shirt and underwear and Logan liked it. A lot.

"Should've joined you. Could have helped get your back." Logan purrs, his growing bulge pressing against your back.

“Oh please we’d still be in the shower if you had joined me.” You tease, slipping out of his grip. Logan furrows his brows as he follows you like a puppy to bed.

"You say that like it's a bad thing sweetheart."

As you lay on the bed Logan crawls in-between your legs, resting his head on your stomach. He purrs as you reach and run your fingers through his hair, scratching his head in all the spots you know he loves.

"Not a bad thing honey, but our water bill isn't a fan." Logan gets up on his knees, a devilish smirk appearing on his lips as his hands snake up your legs.

"Fuck the water bill, If I want to fuck my gorgeous girlfriend I will." You giggle as he dips his head down. The scruff of his beard tickles your skin as he nibbles on your thighs.

"Fuck baby, I can't get enough of you." He kneels between your legs and his hands slip up your body. The moment his hands go under your shirt you flinch. You didn't mean to flinch but you did. It was a small movement but it was there and Logan felt it immediately.

"What's wrong?" He asks as he takes his hands away.

"Nothing." You smile and reach up to pull him closer but he doesn't budge. Curse his super strength. He gives you a look and you sigh.

"It's nothing Logan, it's stupid and small."

"Sweetheart you gotta talk to me," Logan huffs. He's been working on this whole, communication thing and while he's not known for his empathy he can clearly see there's something bothering you.

"I just..." He looks at you again and you fall back into the pillows.

"Its these!" You say pointing to your chest.

"Huh?" "They're small and stupid and I hate them!" You lift your shirt up and huff in frustration. Logan's eyes widen as he stares at your bare chest. A stupid smile forming on his lips.

"I'm not seeing the problem." You put your shirt down and he pouts.

"I'm serious Logan. They're small and flat and...and..." You struggle to find the words as Logan just chuckles.

"So what?"

"It's not funny!" You snap and Logan's face morphs into concern.

"I just, I wish they were bigger is all. I mean sometimes I see other women and...It's hard sometimes." You curl into yourself, your arms covering your chest protectively. It felt silly to bring up right now but the thoughts wouldn't go away.

"Hey, look at me sweetheart." Logan coos. He lays next to you. Gently snaking his arm around your waist to pull you closer.

"Please?" Reluctantly you turn your body to face his.

"There's my pretty girl." He tilts your chin up to meet his eyes.

"Look I'm not the best at this but I can tell you one thing. You're fucking perfect." He leans in and kisses your neck gently. Your eyes flutter close as he gently rolls on top of you.

"You are beautiful, gorgeous, hot. I could go on and on sweetheart." His hand slips up your shirt and you let him slowly peel it off you. He grins as his lips move down to your chest. His thumb comes to play with one of your breasts while he latches onto the other.

"Logan..." You moan as he teases you like he loves to do.

"I know you hate them but I fucking love them. I could spend hours playing with them, looking at them, sucking on them if you let me." You bite your lip at his dirty words. The insecurities being pushed out Logan's hands.

"I don't care how big they are, what the look like. Because they're attached to my girl and I love my girl." Logan reaches down and rips your panties off of your body. You gasp in surprise as he takes your legs and spreads them.

"Feel how fucking hard you make me." He groans as he grinds his cock against your body.

"Get on your knees baby." You don't hesitate to listen. You get on your knees and face the headboard but Logan has other plans.

"No, I want you to watch your pretty tits as I fuck you." He growls in your ear as he moves you to face the mirror on the wall.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at his gruff voice. Fuck he's hot. You're practically dripping onto the sheets already and Logan plans on taking full advantage of that. Slowly he slides his cock into your cunt, taking his sweet time as he stretches you out.

"So good, taking me raw." He says with a smirk. He wraps his hand around your neck to help support you as your legs shake at the feeling.

"I know baby, almost there just a little bit more." He praises.

You nod furiously, wanting to take all of him no matter what. When he fully bottoms out you let out a small cry. He shushes you softly, pressing kisses to your cheek as you get used to the stretch.

"Feel alright sweetheart?" Logan asks and you nod. Slowly he moves his hips, soaking up every whine that falls from your lips.

"Fuck, you're just made for me aren't you pretty girl." You can't take your eyes off of the mirror.

It's pure and utter filth. You're disheveled, tears pooling in your eyes, Logan's hand is still wrapped around your neck. You look fucking hot. You can see his muscles flexing with each devastating thrust. The look of pure desire on his face as he fucks you.

"Logan please I'm gonna come." Your hips start to move to meet his thrusts.

Logan growls as he grabs onto your hips and pushes you into the mattress. All you can do is watch yourself take it as he fucks the life out of you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Logan breaks you apart. Your body feels fuzzy as your orgasm washes over you. Logan lets out a loud groan as his hips slam into you and stay there as he comes.

"Fuck...Look at you." Logan sits back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up. You hum as your head falls onto his chest. A tired smile on your face.

"So fucking perfect." Logan hums.

"Right sweetheart?" You mumble something unintelligible and Logan taps your face.

"I want to hear it." You shiver at the intensity of his voice.

"I'm perfect." Logan tilts your head up.

"All of you?" He asks.

"All of me." You repeat after him.

"Good," He kisses your temple.

You sigh as Logan starts to massage your shoulders. The insecurities have been washed away, only bliss left in its wake. Logan couldn't comprehend your dislike for your body, he saw you and only saw the best.

But if you needed a reminder every now and then, he would be happy to give it to you.

[cupidbedsy]

୨୧ protective, not possessive ; pb5

➪ summary: another win for the huskies means another night out at a bar celebrating. but when your trip to the bathroom takes a little longer than your girlfriend thinks it should, she's balancing on the edge of protectiveness and possessiveness.

➪ warnings: a brief unwanted touch, too much use of look, gaze, stare, and any other synonym for those

➪ word count: 1.7k

➪ cupid's notes: i've had this in my drive for a month now and i'm finally able to post it ! i think i like it, idk guys it's past midnight rn. anyway, i wanted to say thank you again for 1k, i'm positively over the moon with the amount of love you've given me. i hope you guys enjoy the fic !

© cupidbedsy ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

After dating Paige for a few months now, you had grown accustomed to going out after wins and celebrating with her and the team. Even though going out and getting semi-dressed up was not your thing, you would do it for her every time she asked. 

Tonight was no different, your jacket was discarded due to the heat of the packed bar, the slightly revealing shirt you had picked out earlier in the day on display, and jeans hugging your thighs in just the right way that made everyone’s heads turn towards you.

You sat next to Paige, her arm wrapped loosely around your waist as she twisted her glass in her other hand, talking to KK and Azzie. The situation was familiar, something you had done millions of times, jokes you had heard before, but for whatever reason, tonight felt off. 

Maybe it was the test you took today, a new weight off your shoulders you hadn’t felt in so long, or maybe it was the fact that you knew your room was in a messy state and you knew that that was what you had to go back to after this. Whatever it was, it left an uneasy feeling, a growing pit in your stomach.

Snapping out of your thoughts, you looked over at your girlfriend, watching her laugh at something one of the others had said. You didn’t want to worry her, you just needed a moment to compose yourself. So you reached for her t-shirt, tugging slightly to get her attention, sucking in a breath as her gaze met yours.

Her smile was still present when she looked over at you but her eyebrows were furrowed in confusion at the sight of your distressed expression, something that only she was able to detect. She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a murmur, “You okay, ma?”

You nodded, letting your fake bubbly presence consume you, “Yep, totally fine. Just need to pee, I’ll be back.”

She nodded, watching you carefully as you slipped out of her hold, pushing your way through the crowd of bodies toward the back of the bar where the restrooms were. She let herself focus back on the conversation at hand, easily falling back into the rhythm of it. 

She was almost too far into it to notice that you had been gone for more than 10 minutes, but when she reached for your hand to play with the rings on your fingers she remembered where you had gone. She scanned the bar for any sign of you but was left with a frown when she couldn’t find you. 

She excused herself from the table, stuffing her hands in her pockets as she followed the path you had taken earlier to the bathroom. And if she hadn’t been staring down every single person in that building like they had done something to hurt you, she wouldn’t have found you against the wall, talking animatedly about something to a guy who stood in front of you. 

Her eyes narrowed, taking a step toward the two of you but was cut off by an eager woman who was holding a pen and a napkin in her hand. Paige tried her best to give her a kind smile, keeping the protectiveness pushed down as she talked, “Hi.”

“Hi, I’m so sorry to interrupt but my niece absolutely adores you, and I was just wondering if I could have your autograph so I could give it to her.”

She let her smile turn genuine as she heard her explanation, nodding and taking the items from the woman’s hand, scribbling her signature across the white napkin before passing it back to her. She sighed softly when she finally left her alone, redirecting her eyes to where you were standing and she swore you had upped the wattage of your smile even more than when she saw you before.

This time, she avoided any more interruptions as she made her way to the two of you, stopping just to the side of you, hands back in her pockets.

Neither of you noticed at first, your mouth still moving faster than your brain could comprehend. He had a small look of fondness in his eyes as he looked at you, nodding along to each word you said. 

You on the other hand, despite talking so happily, had thought you had made it clear that you were the furthest from interested in him. 

You bumped into him on your way out of the bathroom, in the small corridor that split between the men’s and women’s doors. You had caught wind of something he had been saying to his friend, something that you instantly recognized as one of your many hyperfixations and you wasted no time launching into a conversation with him, your tendency to ramble on and on overtook you in seconds. 

You barely registered his hand reaching out to place on your hip, but the soft brush of his fingers against your exposed skin caused you to jump, excitement washing off your expression.

Paige’s protective instincts kicked in, reaching to intercept his second attempt of grabbing you, wrapping her arm around your waist, and glaring at the guy.

She looked down at you, finally tearing her heated stare from him. She softened immediately, squeezing your hip and giving you a lazy smile to make you more comfortable, “Everything okay, ma?”

You were getting a wave of deja vu as she asked the question, the feeling you had earlier coming back. You gave her a hesitant nod, glancing over at the guy who stood there, slightly awe-struck at the sight of you two together.

He gulped nervously when the fire returned to Paige, “You two are dating?”

The blond nodded, pushing you slightly behind her, not wanting you to be in his direct line of sight anymore. However the guy didn’t want to push his luck, between the look on your girlfriend’s face and the weight of eyes from the table across the bar where the team sat, it was enough to have him muttering an apology and practically running off towards another group of girls. 

She waited until he was far enough away from the small corner you were in to turn and look at you, studying your face intently. Despite the scrutiny she had you under, you couldn’t help but smile and relax, peering up at her with what she could call your signature doe eyes, ones that made her want to drop everything and kiss you, bottom lip between her teeth. 

“Did he say something before that? Make you uncomfortable?”

You shook your head, still having yet to say a word to her since you left for the bathroom nearing 20 minutes ago at this point. It irked her in the slightest, usually, you were talking her ear off - just like you were doing earlier with that guy - about some new TV show you started watching or a new recipe you found on TikTok, but now she could barely get a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ out of you.

“Babe you sure he didn’t do anything, because you know I’ll-”

“Paige,” you interrupted, voice soft but firm enough that she shut her mouth as soon as she heard it. 

You rose on your tiptoes, kissing her cheek, “I’m fine. I promise, we were just talking and the touch caught me off guard, it was harmless.”

“Didn’t look harmless. Looked like you were gonna crap your pants.” She grumbled, dropping her hands to her side.

A laugh bubbled out of you and she finally cracked a smile, little but noticeable. She loved making you laugh, it was the easiest thing for her to do but every time she did she felt like she had won the championship, as cheesy as it was. 

“I did not look like that.” 

“Sure you didn’t. I’m positive you would’ve ruined this perfectly good pair of jeans if he said one more thing about- what were you even talking about?”

You turned sheepish as you mumbled out your hyper-fixation to her, causing her to roll her eyes in return.

“Alright, if that conversation continued, I probably would’ve punched him for making you have to get rid of my favorite pair of jeans on you.”

“Paige, stop. I didn’t look like that.” Your protest was whiney and your lips formed a pout as you continued to stare up at her. 

The tiny smile she had widened into a grin as she reached a hand towards your hair, moving it over your shoulder and letting her fingers rest against the back of your neck, thumb grazing your jawline steadily, “You’re right. You looked gorgeous just standing there, baby. You get that glow around you when you ramble.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks and you knew it had nothing to do with the growing crowd on the dance floor a few feet away from you. The new pink tint to your cheeks only caused Paige to smirk more. She didn’t say anything though, using her other hand to your hip and bringing you impossibly close, your foreheads resting against each other. 

If you were aware of any looks on you before, you weren’t now, every noise and blur of color fading into the background as your eyes bore into hers. 

And the two of you stayed like that for at most 30 seconds but to you two, it felt like hours. You closed your eyes as she let her thumb brush across your cheek, letting whatever stress and uneasiness that lingered go away, a distant memory of the past. 

“I’m always going to be there to protect you, you know that right?”

You hadn’t heard her voice that unsure in a long time, and maybe you were imagining it but when you opened your eyes again, you saw the unmistakable uncertainty on her face. You frowned, “‘course I know that. Would never doubt your possessive nature.”

She scoffed, “I wasn’t being possessive. Just cautious.”

“Oh is that what we’re calling it now?” 

The two of you started to make your way back to the table, her hand intertwining with yours, swinging your arms back and forth. 

“Next time,” she spoke after a beat, voice teasing. “I’m going to the bathroom with you.”

“Not possessive my ass.”  You muttered, but you should’ve known better than to think she wouldn’t hear it because soon her hand did meet your ass, another grin on her face.

꒰ UCONN HUSKIES TAGLIST ꒱

@fantillisgirl

PB5 MASTERLIST ; WBB MASTERLIST

TAGLIST ; NAVIGATION

[weltenwellen]

I get so sad about my father all the time lately. I think about all the things what I should have said, about all the things I could have done when he was still alive. I feel so guilty all the time. And at the same time in my heart there is this young version of me, sitting forever in front of this wound that was created by this person who did not know how to be a father. I feel like I am forever sitting in the same room with him, feeling all this heaviness he carried inside him and looking into eyes that held more sadness that one person is supposed to carry in a lifetime. And I think about how I loved this person more than I've ever loved anybody. And how through my whole life I never could tell if I was holding onto my father's sadness or my own.

[elldritch-horror]

One thing we all need to do is get better at not having opinions on things.

Having a properly informed and reasoned opinion takes time and effort and it simply isn't possible to do for the amount of things we're called on to take a stance on these days.

In lieu of informed and reasoned opinions we end up relying on flawed heuristics. Random person in my inbox says X is a Bad Person? If I don't block them I'm presumed to be standing by them and their Bad Deeds, and who has time to read the 50 page call out gdoc? So you block to be safe and move on.

Or you find the most identifiable 'victim' in a conflict and unequivocally and credulously side with them ignoring any nuance.

Instead, I try to recognise when I have little to no opportunity to effect change, and in those cases, I stay stubbornly free of opinion (or I try. I'm allegedly human, after all).

That's not to say that you can't fall back on principle. I do not have the historical or cultural expertise to have any sort of opinion on what should be done about Gaza - which is fine, because I am not empowered to do anything even if I did have the answers - but on principle I can say hey, I think killing people is not great and should stop. I can say I think people will always have more common ground with other people than with their governments. I can say that I would not want to be held as personally condoning the atrocities my government commits.

You don't have to have a PhD in the history of the region, and you don't have to fall prey to tired old antisemitic rhetoric with a fresh coat of paint in order to have principles and compassion. It's the opinions that get messy.

nobody is immune but some of you are… concerning susceptible… 😟

[chocolatechipscones]

We talk a lot about the altar and beheading (as we should) but I think we should talk more about Martyn's secret chest. If he actually wanted it hidden he could have just put it somewhere and told Ren nothing, he could have left an empty chest and pretended someone found it and stole the valuables, he could have risked everything and just given Ren a real location. Instead what he does is he not only hides the chest with what he'd need after his betrayal, he also leaves a note to Ren explaining how he doesn't trust him and leaves it in a chest he tells Ren never to open. In a way, he's building a trap. Ren seems to not quite listen to him when it comes to giving away resources and making deals so why would he ever listen to Martyn about this. Of course, Ren is going to go sniffing about the chest and discover his ally doesn't fully trust him, that he's capable of betraying him. If Ren called out Martyn about the fake chest, about his duplicity after Ren himself broke Martyn's trust by checking the chest, then that would be a way out for Martyn. It would be enough justification to betray his king the way he always planned to do. But, no matter how much time passes, Ren doesn't check the chest, doesn't discover Martyn lied to him, doesn't break his trust. When Martyn finally, after they've sworn themselves to each other and it's become clear that any plans of betrayal are just fantasies, Martyn takes Ren to the chest and reveals what he's done. Ren doesn't get angry, doesn't find any fault in his ally lying to him and planning to sever their bond, he just laughs and validates Martyn's fears, acknowledging why his hand may have made those plans to begin with. And then Martyn shows him the real chest, hidden maybe but still up on that hill, right where Martyn said it would be.

[yukioos]

KIDS

SUMMARY: hwang in-ho x wife reader // in-ho takes a week off of work to spend time with you and his son. he comes home in the middle of the night and cuddles with you. a couple days later, you and your son come up with a plan. he tells you to shut up, as you both wondered what your husband would do if he did. safe to say, he was not pleased with those words.

AUTHORS NOTE: sorry i haven’t posted in so long! im so late to this trend but saw a fanfic including it so i got inspiration from it. anyway the trend is that a kid tells their mom to shut up to see how the dad reacts. of course, the mother is in on it so everything’s fine :) hope u guys enjoy! this is 0.9k words

WARNINGS: not proofread, idk reader and her son prank in-ho

in-ho had taken time off from his job to spend time with you and your teenage son. you were lucky to have an unbothered week with him, as he was a very busy man. in-ho had told the headmaster guard to watch over the games for a week, as he was taking a break. he hoped he wouldn’t have to go back to the island while on ‘vacation.’ however, he was overworked and tired, but always felt reenergized once he visited you again. all he could think about while he was on a boat ride back to seoul was spending uninterrupted time with you and his son.

because of your husband’s job, you never knew when he would suddenly have time off work. he would text you when he wasn’t constantly watching over the players or designing new games, but unfortunately, would sometimes go radio silent for a few days. he couldn’t risk anyone knowing who you were, in fear of a player coming after him and his family for revenge. however, he doubted they had the willpower to do it.

in-ho arrived home in the middle of the night, smiling at the light you always left on in case he randomly came home. once he set his items down, he checked his son’s bedroom to see if he was sleeping. after, he went to your shared one, where you slept soundly and curled up into a ball, on his side of the bed. he took a quick shower, remembering you didn’t like his outside clothes to be lying on the bed.

once he was done, he changed into comfortable clothes and laid on your side of the bed, knowing you were knocked out cold on his. he wrapped his arms around your seemingly cold figure, missing the warmth from his body. your body instinctively curled up into his and mumbled into the pillow. the steady breath of yours calmed him down, as it normally did. as his eyes became blurry, he kissed the back of your head, partially for his own comfort. he passed out, knowing he was where he wanted to be, with you sleeping in his arms.

days had passed since in-ho came home to spend time with you and his son, and the days were especially cherished. they were filled with family time and going to restaurants together, sometimes even watching movies late at night.

but one day, you were on the couch, scrolling on social media, and found a trend where a child and mother prank the husband by the child telling the mom to ‘shut up’ in different circumstances. the test was to see how the husband would react, and you grinned at the video that played before you.

you stood up from the couch and knocked on the door, asking him to do the trend with you as a joke. he giggled, and you both planned out when you would carry out the prank.

hours later, you sat on a couch with in-ho, who was caressing your calves as he talked to you quietly about what was happening in the games. you listened intently, learning that a previous player had joined the games again, and was trying to stop it. however, he halted his words once he thought he should separate his job life from his home life.

you turned your head to the kitchen, where your son leaned against the counter, texting on his phone. you asked, “mimi, did you clean your room?” he quietly sighed and turned his back to you, ignoring you. you called out, “mi-sun—“

he quickly interrupted, “shut up, mom.” your son groaned, tilting his head back and rolling his eyes. you had to be honest, he was a great actor.

you stood silent, and your husband did too, but he slowly took his hand from your calf and intimidatingly walked up to your son. he stared deep into his worried, brown eyes. mi-sun chuckled, “dad, it—it was a prank, promise!” he anxiously averted his eyes, trying to avoid his father’s deathly gaze.

in-ho placed his son’s phone on the counter and bent down, and you realized he wasn’t listening to a single word his son was saying. you stood up and stated, “honey, it was a joke, it was all planned out.” you rubbed his muscular back and patted his bicep, then tilted your head. you knew he wouldn’t even think about hurting his son, but he seemed incredibly frustrated with how his son was treating you.

in-ho stated, “son, i understand it was a joke, but you must never talk to your mother that way. do you understand?” he nodded, and his father smiled, “i still love you both, but don’t do that again.” you all chuckled, and he kissed his son’s forehead, sharing a hug with him.

he then placed his burly arm around your waist and placed his lips against yours. your son smiled then walked away, up to his room. in-ho caressed the back of your neck and then laid back down on the couch with you. he sat right next to you and stared at you. you mumbled, “sorry,” and he laughed, closed his eyes, and kissed your forehead.

of course, he forgave you and forgot all about it the next day.

[neovillains]

DEATHBED | PART TWO

( HE'S NO DEADBEAT : NANAMI KENTO ) nanami believed he raised his son well, only for him to turn into a deadbeat right in front of his eyes. don't worry, he'll make it up to you. | watch time: 3.8k words.

── gilf!nanami & fem-bodied!reader, she/her pronouns, single mother!reader, adopted grandfather!nanami, deadbeat!yuuji itadori, high age gap, cunnilingus, clit stimulation, unprotected sex, multiple (2) orgasms, creampie, pussyjob, etc.

note. i am going so feral over my own series. like,,, i want to gnaw on the skin of gilf nanami so bad !

“I just don’t understand,” Nanami sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he throws his head back in the stress of all this. “You told me a couple of months ago that you love the girl. Now, you’re going back on your word the moment the child’s born? This is not the man I raised you to be.”

“Yeah, well,” Yuuji mumbles on the other line. “I’m sorry for disappointing you, but I just— I don’t think I’m cut out to be a father. I didn’t— I didn’t—”

“You didn’t realize how much responsibility it would be?” Nanami finishes for him. “How old are you again? I thought we were over this conversation the moment you left for college.”

“Why are you giving me so much shit?” Yuuji groans, voice getting more agitated the more his adopted father continues to chastise him. “(Y/N) and I had already had a discussion about things and I would financially provide for the child. That should be enough.”

“That should be enough?” Nanami scoffed, baffled by the words of the pink-haired fool on the other line. He could tell that Yuuji was still naive and idiotic to think that money would be the only thing that you needed to provide for a child all on your own. “What about doctor appointments? Emergencies at school and (Y/N) having to call off work to get them— did you consider instances like that? One person isn’t supposed to juggle the job of two.”

“I’m pretty sure she’ll be fine,” Yuuji hums. “You’ve done it with me—”

Nanami couldn’t take anymore of it, pulling the phone from his ears and immediately clicking on the red button to end the call. With a sigh, he brings himself out of the kitchen and towards the leather recliner that’s starting to fade. The burnt umber starting to dull in its color and having more of an orange hue to it. Relaxing in the seat as he leans back, he shuts his eyes. Over the years, he’s finally gotten a chance to relax. Slaving away in an office for hours and hours nearly everyday and coming home to provide for a young Yuuji, it’s brought a toll on his body. Gradually letting himself go, his stomach has grown a bit more pudge to it and the blond of his hair has completely dissipated to white. 

When Yuuji had found you, bringing you home to meet his father, he was happy for his son. You were such a sweet person who managed to handle Yuuji’s outgoing nature. You were someone who could provide him stability, something that Yuuji was in dire need of. However, Nanami should’ve seen this coming when the two of you had been together for ten years and he never mentioned the idea of dropping down to one knee. 

“Fuck,” Nanami curses as he rubs circles into the temples of his forehead. He thought that at some point Yuuji would get it. That he’s no longer a child and has responsibilities to tend to. But instead, he’s still running from adulthood instead of embracing it, coming to terms with it, and stop solely feeding into his inner child. Though it could be a gruesome thing, aging did have its perks. It was sad to see that his son didn’t seem to find that within you and his son. 

He wondered how you were doing. How you truly were doing. Reaching for his phone, he had never called you so periodically before. However, when he heard that you were pregnant, he wanted to be a present grandfather. But when he heard how Yuuji had broken your heart after so many years together, he felt ashamed to have ties with the younger lad. 

Last contacted: Two Weeks Ago.

With a heavy sigh, he presses the call button and waits. He’s expecting you to decline the call but after four rings, your voice— soft— sounds from the other line. “Hello? Nanami?”

“Hello, (Y/N). How’ve you been?”

—

You’re a very eclectic person. That’s what Nanami has learned about you from over the years. When you and Yuuji moved in together, you had taken over all aspects of interior design, having a more maximalist approach to things as countertops were littered with drinkets and pieces that were so vibrant and full of color. He couldn’t tell what your style was— bohemian chic with a mixture of rustic and historical? You mismatched a lot of things, but they always seemed to be coordinated in some sort of way. In the end, your home was an organized chaos that he’s come to admire. 

However, as he sits down on your couch, half of those decoratives and staples to your home are gone. Packed away in boxes as you’re ready to raise a child. Conversations between the two of you were short and brief, that light in your eye that he’s so accustomed to is starting to blow out and he can’t help but feel guilty for the role he has to play in this. 

“How’ve you been holding up, (Y/N)?” He asks out of the blue. “And be truthful with me. Don’t worry about me relaying the message back to Yuuji because I’m not— if that’s what you’re worried about.”

For the first time in the two hours he’s been here, you chuckle. The newborn laying on your chest as you rock your little boy to sleep, you shake your head as the corner of your lips rise. “I’m not worried about that, trust me. I’m just trying to think about that as much as possible, to be honest. It’s been a rough couple of days. With postpartum and everything, it’s taking a toll on me while I’m trying to keep it together.”

“Has he been sleeping well?” Nanami gestures to the baby. “If you need any help with him, you know I’ll be here as much as I possibly can.”

“You know,” you hum. “He’s really not that bad. I don’t want to jinx it, but he’s been good at night. The days, too. He’s been easy so far.”

“Probably because he can detect what you’re going through,” he lets out the comment absentmindedly before clearing his throat. “It’s good that he’s not giving you much trouble though. All you need is easy right now.” 

By the fourth hour, Nanami removed himself from your home. Seeing him out, you were about to shut the door when he stopped abruptly. “And I mean it, (Y/N). Call me if you ever need help. Don’t try to do everything on your own. I’ll be there for you as much as I possibly can.”

Your eyes glisten with tears as you nod. “Thanks, Nanami. I really appreciate that.”

—

Nanami had taken the initiative to do what Yuuji couldn’t. Making regular visits to you to spend time with you and help with the baby as much as he can. Months passed by and gradually you were forgetting about Yuuji. Even with Nanami in your presence, you no longer cared about the guy you had been with for ten years as the older man seemed to be filling this void inside of you as you didn’t feel alone. And when Yuuji would call, you’d always keep conversation short as your voice gained a bit more pep and you were able to get more decent amounts of sleep. 

There was something stirring inside of you when Nanami was around. It was like he made the sun shine brighter. 

Was this right— to be on the verge of developing plausible feelings for your son’s grandfather, your ex’s father? Adopted father, your brain corrected. Nonetheless, Nanami raised Yuuji as if he was his own. Were you just trying to fill that hollow void inside of you that was yearning for connection?

You loved Yuuji. He was childish and didn’t want to hold any responsibility, oftentimes making you do the brunt of things. Truthfully, you shouldn’t have stayed so long. But, you loved him. His childishness made you smile, his want for fun made the days go faster. However, you ended up getting the short end of the stick because of his ways. But still, you loved Yuuji.

Nanami was a tie to Yuuji. And whatever that was going on in your mind was still tied down to Yuuji. 

The pipe was running for far too long that it called for Nanami’s attention. Stepping inside of the kitchen, he stands behind you and reaches to turn off the pipe. He looks down at you when you jump, your back hitting into his chest. Making eye contact, you smile sheepishly as he looks down at you in concern. “What’s wrong?”

He doesn’t ask if there’s something wrong, he knows that something is. And in the whirlwind of your mind, you blurt, “I think it’s best if you go now.”

The immediate switch up is perplexing, catching Nanami off guard as he instinctively takes a step back. “Huh— did I do something wrong?”

“No, but— but I think it’s best if you stop your little visits,” you continue on, turning your back away from him as you grab the sponge, squirting soap on it. 

“(Y/N), talk to me.”

“I don’t think I want to talk anymore.”

“I don’t care if you don’t want to talk anymore, you’re going to,” he pulls at your wrist, dragging you away from the sink. “Tell me what’s with the abrupt decisions?”

“I—I—” you groan in frustration, flinging yourself against Nanami as you pull him in for a kiss. It lasts for only a second before he’s pushing you off of him, trying to collect his thoughts and understand what just happened. Your face heats up feeling like a complete fool. 

“I’m so sorry. I just— This is why you need to—” However, before you can even finish your sentence, he’s pulling you back into his embrace. The warmth of his body makes you melt as you taste his lips, fingers scrunching in the baby blue t-shirt hanging off his body. The tension from inside of you is relieved as your hand goes to drape around his neck as you let out the slightest of moans. It’s then that he pulls away, a string of saliva following.

Nanami’s brown eyes stare into you, no longer filled with the youth of his younger days like how you’ve seen in his photo albums. However, you can see how they brighten up with you in his hold. In a low and raspy voice, “If this was what you were scared about, I would’ve assured you a long time ago that you’re safe with me.”

He plants another wet and chaste kiss on your lips, adding, “Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to take care of you for the rest of the years I have.”

With your son fast asleep, the two of you become so enamoured in each other’s lust that reality slips past. Nanami’s veiny hands grip onto your hips with purpose and pull you closer into him. From the time he’s been spending with you, you’ve made him realize how much he’s missed out on companionship. How he had been so occupied with work and providing for Yuuji that he never took the chance to really connect with anyone. Aside from the occasional women and a few sporadic dates, his life was one of loneliness. Your lips are soft and full of life, transporting him back to his late twenties— blond hair and unblemished skin, green-tinted spectacles that hid his beautiful coffee-toned eyes. He was stressed out then, but imagine if he had found someone like you back then? Closer in age and held the same stupor that would make him realize his mistakes much sooner, he wouldn’t have ended up in the predicament he is in now. Kissing on a girl that’s nearly half his age, the mother of his grandson. He should feel ashamed of himself— disgusted— but his body craves this. Craves you. 

You manage to guide him to your bedroom without his knowing, his mind so preoccupied that the moment you gently shut the door, he’s disoriented. The two of you have moved so seamlessly in the heat of things that it makes this all too real. But still, even when you’re sitting on the edge of the bed and he’s climbing over your body, he can’t stop himself. Lust-blown eyes that gaze into yours, he breathes heavily. “You’d willingly love an old man like me?”

“Yes,” you breathe with a faint nod. “Need someone to take care of me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” Nanami breathes. “You’d let an old man use this beautiful body of yours— ruin it with his old cock?”

You go to cup his face, eyes gleaming when you say, “You could never do that, Kento.”

He grounds his erection into your covered heat, pressing his lips down on yours before haughtily saying, “Oh, but I want to.” 

And your eyes say it all, giving him permission as you feel the fire that ignites in between your legs. Arousal continues to build up as Nanami’s breathing gets heavier. Aging lines that protrude the skin, cheeks sucked and exhausted eyes that reflect those many years of labor. You remember the words of your ex telling you about him, speaking so highly of his father and how he worked endlessly. Yuuji always said that his father needed a break, and finally does it feel like he is. Spending leisure time buried inside of your pussy.

Nanami knows he has to be careful not to strain the bones inside of his body, knowing that one bad ache can be detrimental. However, he’s eager— way too eager to have a taste. Traversing down your body, he stops himself at the hem of your shorts. One leg on the floor with the other knee pressing into the mattress of the bed, he grabs at the elastic of it and slowly drags it down. Your hips rise up from the sheets as your thighs press together before he’s flinging the two garments down to the ground. Your body was slowly getting back to what you used to recognize it for. After going through labor, your stomach had felt like it became a deflated balloon, gaining more and more stretch marks than you originally had. When you took Nanami up on his offer to help you, he encouraged you to get out of the house as much as you can. It had helped, but you were still coming to terms with the new you.

However, with every gentle touch that Nanami places on your body, it feels like nothing has changed. The way he caresses your waist, gently tugging you down to his lips. Hands pushing at the hem of your shirt and making it rise as your stomach is exposed. The gentle kiss to your left inner thigh and the soft rub to your stomach is a simple gesture that makes sparks fly. He spreads your legs slowly, but his eyes glued on yours as his hands come to travel higher up. He’s so close to you, his breath dancing over your pussy as he mumbles, moreso to himself than to you, “God, so beautiful.”

Simple gestures and simple words that give you enough validation as you say his name, Kento. Your legs tense up before relaxing, your body beginning to jitter the more he gets so transfixed with it. It’s only for the palm of his hand to stop and relax you before spreading you open even further. “Don’t get shy on me now, love. I’ll take care of you, just like you need to be.”

The first kiss to your lips is short, a simple taste test to your nectar— you’re the finest honey he’s ever tasted. Your arousal has him addicted, pressing his nose into your clit as he inhales your scent. Intoxicating and tantalizing, he finds himself getting lost in a matter of seconds. Your body shudders, making your spine arch with the way his tongue presses down into your warmth. One hand digging into your sheets while the next knots inside of his hair, pulling at the thinning strands of his scalp. However, he couldn’t care less as he finds himself impeccably lost. Your short tugs has him moaning, a sign of encouragement for you to continue those savoury sounds as his hand goes in search for the next to guide it where it belongs. 

With both of your hands tangled in what used to be blond, your legs trap him inside your heat as his arms wrap around your waist. There’s an ache settling inside of his legs, but he keeps himself still as his pink tongue prods at your folds. You’re a mewling mess as your eyes are shut and basking in this bliss. Your breathing becomes heavy as you can only think of the man making you feel so good. You gnaw on your bottom lip in hopes to ground yourself as his tongue swirls against your labia, nose nuzzling into your clit as he presses the muscle deeper and deeper within you. 

Wet sounds start to seep within the air as Nanami’s not caught up for breath once as you’ve got each other locked in each other’s hold. His moans are deep and from the soul, his arms tightening around your waist as he can feel it before you can. That coil deep within your body, shortly undoing and bringing you to the brink. Arousal dressing his taste buds, your juices continue to seep out as your back arches off the bed and your fingers get tighter. “K-Ken… Kento!”

“I know,” he pulls up for a first. “And I’ve got you.”

Nanami tips you over the edge, knocking you out of breath the moment he presses a finger to your clit. A high-pitched gasp leaving your mouth as you close your eyes shut and cry out in pleasure. “Kento, ohmigosh!”

You drag out a long-winded ‘oh,’ building up pride in the older man as a smirk graces his lips as he laps up your orgasm. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your upper body falls back into the sheets and your chin points to the ceiling. Your breath is ragged as you slowly fall from your high and feel the bed shuffle. A deep groan settles from off of his chest as Nanami has to take a moment to stretch out his limbs. He reaches to pull off his shirt and undo his pants, the tight-fitted boxer briefs resting on his lower half when your eyes start to flutter open once more. Chest rising and falling, you admire the chub of the man before you. 

He dropped the habit of working out in his early sixties the moment he realized the amount of strain it was putting on his body. And no longer did he care for it, not bothering to wake up in the early mornings or get ready in the evenings for it. Instead, he opted in for daily walks and called it a day. But even those had become a biweekly hobby. He was no longer sharp and strong as he used to be, but the remnants of it and the roundness of his body was more comforting than ever. Eyes lingering to the bulge inside of his undergarments, you ogled at the size of it, white hairs leading down to it. Inching towards you, he brought your attention to his face. Your glossy eyes no longer transfixed on the length hiding under the elastic cloth as he inched down to you. One hand cupping your face as he breathes heavily, giving you a once over. 

“My son,” he starts before clearing his throat. “My son never knew how to handle a woman like you.”

It was gradual. You didn’t know when he had managed to slip free of his underwear. “Could’ve never taken care of a woman like you.” 

You didn’t know when he managed to hike your legs up over his waist, his tip kissing at your clit and making you absentmindedly shudder. “That’s why you need me.”

It isn’t until you feel the press of his cock head inching inside of your heat that you’re taken out of your trance, your mouth falling open into an ‘O’ as a whimper leaves your lips. “Only I can take care of you. Be everything my son isn’t— a man.” 

“Yeah,” you agree with a meek nod, feeling the intrusion of his cock seer through you. 

“Yeah?” Nanami hums, pressing deeper and deeper into you until he’s fully sheathed. His breathing staggers a bit before regaining control. “I’m the only man you need. The only man that can give you what you need, hm?”

“Yes, Kento,” you whine and whimper, feeling how he pauses to get you acclimated. “I only need you. You’re perfect for me.”

One more chaste kiss before he’s pulling out of you, the head prodding at your entrance. A thought he’s unaware he’s said out loud, And you’re perfect for me. 

His length is thick and stretches open your walls, making you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt with any of your past partners. His hips don’t move with that same motion he had in his younger years. No longer languid movements, but growing rougher in age. Each thrust is calculated and hard against your pussy. His deep groans and grunts make your mind spiral and your eyes constantly flutter as each sound spills from his mouth. At some point, he comes to hold your face and does nothing else. A small and simple gesture that makes you melt into him. 

Your pussy, while used, sucks him up in a tight grip that doesn’t make him want to ever leave it. He finds himself stuck at the thought of leaving the sweetness that it is, your cunt a gift to him from heavens themself. Your hands wrap around his neck, nails digging into his fragile skin and sure to bruise as your legs tense up around him, his eyes flutter shut. “Gosh, it’s like your pussy was made for me to enjoy.”

And when he brings you to orgasm, you entrap him with your legs and call for his release as well. You milk of what he’s worth, letting him empty himself out into you without any concerns of the repercussions. You let out high-pitched mewls and moans when he rolls to the other side of the bed, having to take a moment to catch his breath. However, with your body running ablaze, a heat still sparked inside of you, you tiredly move yourself to hover over his frame and catch him off guard. “Wha— What are you doing?” 

“I need more of you.” The tip of his cock still leaking his seed and your pussy dripping of your intermingled cum, you press your cunt against his length. Grinding yourself against his softening length in hopes to liven him up again, you watch as he chuckles exhaustedly. “A pretty thing like you will surely lead me to my deathbed.”

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[emptymanuscript]

I feel like one of the most important distinctions you can make is between the personal and the public.

There are things I want, personally, that I should not have because of the negative consequences.

When I am hurt, I want to hit back. This is totally acceptable as a personal feeling. It is not acceptable as a public policy. The monopoly of violence SHOULD belong to the state so that it can’t be used for personal advantage. There’s nothing preventing me in my rage from hitting back infinitely harder than whatever hurt was done to me. An interested party who is operating on pure emotional reactivity is the person least qualified to make the fairest decision. Turning that power over to a bureaucracy is the surest way to make the decision as neutral as it can be because it will move through a process that can’t feel emotions.

I, personally, absolutely want to get a rocket launcher and shoot it through the front door of the Fox news building. Just burn it all. They all fucking deserve to die, down to the cockroaches in the walls for being willing to live with them.

I, as a matter of public policy, absolutely believe that it is the duty of the law and society to protect the people at Fox from ME and my desires. I not only should not be allowed, I should be (and am, for anyone worried) actively prevented from taking any steps toward that desire.

Maturity and civilization both depend on the personal sacrifice of one’s own immediate desires for the sake of a larger and longer term good. Just because I want it doesn’t mean I should have it. It is instead requisite for me to think about the larger implications of fulfilling my desires.

And this can be damn basic. When I first wake up in the morning, I don’t want to get out of bed, feed myself, do all that basic life stuff. I want someone to bring everything to me and make it easy for me. Assuming I don’t just want to go back to sleep. But think about that from a public policy standpoint. That right there is the basis for slavery. So, no, even that very basic and natural desire should not be allowed to grow beyond that tiny little ennui in my heart. I should picture a very tiny violin and get going.

Frankly, personally, I hope every single Trump supporter experiences intense and personal betrayal, suffering until they literally pray to take their vote back because they have suffered so much. And then they should die anyway. Painfully. Pathetically. While I laugh at them. Until the American People reverse the election in sheer desperation for mercy.

And, as a matter of public policy, I know that is not ok. None of it. I’m not ok with the another political faction doing it. And the rules can’t change depending on which political faction is in power, otherwise they aren’t rules. Otherwise no one is ever safer or better off than how we treat the worst person because it’s only the matter of a vote to put someone else in that position.

There, but for a different electoral outcome, go I.

The first link of the chain binds everyone because we CANNOT control the chain.

In some ideal dream world, I would be perfectly in charge of everything and it would go exactly how I want and I could have every little desire AND make sure it didn’t run away from me and have everything prove I was perfectly correct about all my opinions and they would build statues to me because I was such a great and beloved overlord.

And pretty much the exact opposite of that is what you should expect from the real world.

It is NEVER you.

I will NEVER be the sole person in charge pulling all the strings.

No one is EVER the sole person in charge pulling all the strings.

Even absolute dictators have to deal with other powerful people. That’s literally the history of our democratic lineage. Enough powerful nobles forced an absolute monarch to cede them rights in writing for all time and that started the ball rolling to where we are, which none of them anticipated and they wouldn’t be ok with it.

It’s NEVER you. You cannot force the world to live up to your desires. You are ALWAYS in negotiation with everything else.

So you are NEVER safe from or immune to the public policies you press for.

You HAVE to fight for public policies to treat the very worst person with the minimum dignity and respect you feel you should be entitled to because you are NEVER more than a simple redefinition to being the very worst person. The people you love are NEVER more than one rash decision or accident away from suffering all the consequences you want to inflict on those you hate.

Public Policy NEEDS to be us checking our ego at the door and pushing for better than our best selves. Because public policy can enact the vicious impulses of our worst selves with infinitely greater power and horror.

Even for those you HATE, it is all too easy to see atrocities out of your nightmares play out in front of you while you pray to take it back because you didn’t mean THIS. This is too awful. This is inhuman. Because yes, it is. Public Policy isn’t human. It is emergent. And you CANNOT control the emergent properties. You cannot hold back its worst impulses because they’re not just yours.

The best you can do is try to give it all your most reasoned and generous mercy. All you can do is try and peel your pettiness and passions out of that inhuman clockwork in the hope that it won’t devour people if you don’t give it that directive.

Does that mean we can’t feel anger and hatred and fear and all those emotions?

That’s not how being human works. You could try and repress them but then it’ll just squeeze out somewhere else. No. You get all that. You get to feel it. You get to process it. You get to use it to make PERSONAL decisions.

I’m a Jew and I am officially saying, as far as I am concerned for myself, you can think of me as a Kike, think I am going to hell, block me, ignore me, refuse to use my business. You can throw the Musk gesture. You can say that the world would be better off without me because the Jews are evil and drink the blood of babies. You will have to live with me hating you back but that’s fine as a personal interaction. We don’t have to like each other. We can live together AND hate each other AND have it still function.

The COST for having all three of those things at once is that you still have to fight for my rights and protections in the public square and I still have to fight for yours. We both have to push for Public Policy to protect the other because we can’t predict who will end up where. Yes, in a perfectly just world, I firmly believe the Nazi would get the worst treatment. But we don’t live in a perfect world. And history has shown that it is frequently the worst people on top instead of on the bottom.

So it’s gotta go the other way, too. It’s NEVER you on top. But it jolly well can be the people you hate pulling the levers to put you on the bottom. So you have to check the power of the dictator because you can’t control who it will be for the same reason you have to protect the rights of the villains. Because it’s just one switch away from all the weapons you gave yourself from being turned on you.

Feel what you feel. But advocate for better. Or you are living on borrowed time.

I do actually care marginally about the guy in that reddit screenshot who voted for Trump and is now worried that he might lose his medicaid funding because I did not fucking stutter when I said healthcare is a human right but the people losing their internships and job offers to the hiring freeze are straight up hilarious.

[livin4woso]

Putting the her in football'her' (arsenal x reader)

Summary- yn is the new it girl of arsenal, and your following over shadows your playing ability. So some of the players doubt your playing skill, so you just have to prove it.

The news of your transfer to Arsenal had sent the media wild. You were a young and upcoming football with a large social following, which you gained from your time in spain.

Your rise to fame was certainly interesting at 20 years old and playing for real Madrid. Your following should not have been over 1 million, but it was. The reason you blew up one night on social media was due to an interview you had done after giving a young fan your shirt and a fan had decided to make an edit of you which went viral.

Since then, the edits began pouring in, and so did the followers, which had started to create a name around you and drew the attention for bigger clubs to look for a move. Your Instagram was the most popular of your social massing, with over 1.5 million followers. Whether or not they were there because they were a fan of football was a different question. This mass of support around you made you a high target as you would bring media to the games and increased viewership which is what the team want.

So Arsenal had no issue paying the 350k transfer fee that real madrid had set for you. The move had been a sceptical one, not for the fans they were estatic with the move but more among the team and the players. The idea that the club had paid all this money for you as a social media stunt didn't sit right with them, so they took to the two people who would have played against you the barca girls.

"So mario, what do you think about y/n? im sure you've played with her a few times?" Beth started asking with the crowd of the other girls around "she's a good player but i have only played her a few times so i don't know if she's consistently good" mariona responded truthfully because from the few times when you'd marked her in the el classico you had been rather good for a 20 year old and made quite a few key challenges.

This should have stopped the controversy among the team, but it didn't , or it wasn't until you were going to prove yourself. It was the day of your first training with the girls, and you couldn't help but feel nervous as while your english was good, it definitely wasn't fluent. You were waiting in the boot room to meet the other girls, but first, you were met with the other two spainards on the team who would hopefully make your transfer easier.

Many of the girls had created a preconceived idea of you and thought that you would be cocky and see yourself above others due to your popularity. So when meeting you was like smack to the face as you were anything but you were quiet and humble and mentioned nothing about your social media. "Hi, im y/n nice to meet you," you said to each of the girls as they moved to you in a line sort of format before training

As you walked towards the training pitches, you began talking to the lotte, which was rather comforting as she was very integrated with the team and knew all the girls. "So you excited to be joining the arsenal," lotte asked you "yeah really excited, and it's a good chance to win some trophies," you said back, smiling at her.

Training began, and you knew you had to prove yourself even if it was just a little bit. The training was based on possession from the backline, which was helpful as you were a centre back, so it meant you would be heavily involved in training. You were good on the ball and even better under pressure even with the likes of russo and caldenty running at you. After the main aim of the session was finished, you did a small sided game of 5v5.

This was your time to show your technical abilities as, at real madrid, you would be used to drive forward into the midfield to start a high press. So you got the ball and made light work of the strikers and played a ball out to mead who was the forward for your team. Mccabe, who was the other defender for your team, ran up and patted your back. "That was class, y/n keep going," she said, taking back anything negative she had previously said about you.

You had definitely proved that you were a footballer and that even though you did have a following, which definitely grew since joining Arsenal, you were a baller who definitely posed a threat to other teams. Since them you had one of the highest success rates for tackles and starting counter attacks.

Then, in the match against aston Villa, a free kick was given just outside the box, and you stepped up to take it. Which was a shock to the fans as centre backs definitely dont take free kicks however after practicing in training and the ball smashing into the top corner more than once you were given a chance to take one in the match.

You stepped a few steps back before the referee whistled to take it. You kicked the ball, wrapping your leg around, making sure to shift all your force through your hips. Everyone watched as the ball curved towards the top corner, and sabrinas finger scraped the ball. However, it went rippling into the net, and the crowd went crazy in celebration.

Your teamates jumped on top of you as you celebrated your first goal for arsenal, and in that moment, they never doubted your skill or ability as you could play football, and you played pretty damn well. Since then, you have become close friends with the team, and although sometimes you missed home, you had found another one in the comfort of arsenal.

[qwibkwib]

On the Cliff,

Part 2

part 1

Park Jiwon (Fromis_9) X Male reader

Word Count: 11.7k+

a/n: Few days after the 1st part.

The steady hum of the office barely registers in your mind—the clatter of keyboards, the muffled conversations, the occasional shrill ring of a phone. It’s all just background noise, drowned out by the thoughts you can’t seem to shake.

Jiwon.

You stare at the contract in front of you, the words blurring into meaningless lines of text. Your pen rests idle in your hand, tapping against the desk in an erratic rhythm. It’s been fifteen minutes, and you haven’t flipped a page.

She left.

Slipped away before the sun even rose, without a word, without a trace—except for the crumpled bills she left on the nightstand.

Your jaw tightens at the memory. Did she really think it was just a one-night thing? That she could simply walk away and pay it off like some meaningless transaction? The thought settles in your chest like a dull ache, an irritation you can't quite ignore.

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply.

You’re not the type to dwell on these things. And yet, here you are.

A sharp knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

“Sir,” comes a familiar voice, laced with just the right amount of exasperation. “If you’re done brooding dramatically, the board meeting is in thirty minutes. You know, the thing that actually pays your bills?”

You glance up to find Jihoon standing in the doorway, a stack of documents in his hands, the usual tired patience in his expression.

“Brooding?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t brood.”

Jihoon snorts, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “Right. And I’m quitting tomorrow.” He drops the files onto your desk with a dull thud. “You’ve been staring at that page like it’s about to confess its undying love for you. Which, by the way, is kind of unsettling.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “I was thinking.”

“Oh, I can tell. Must be exhausting for you.” Jihoon crosses his arms, watching you closely. “Let me guess—woman trouble?”

You don’t answer, which only makes his grin widen.

“Called it. So, what’s her name?”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second before muttering, “Park Jiwon.”

Jihoon’s brow furrows for a moment, then his eyes widen slightly in recognition. “Wait... Park Jiwon? As in Park Sangho’s daughter?”

The name sits on your tongue uncomfortably. “Park Sangho?”

Jihoon nods. “Yeah, Park Sangho. CEO of Park Conglomerate. Or what’s left of it. They’ve been struggling for a while now.” He pauses, eyeing you carefully. “And his daughter... well, there’s been talk about her getting married off to Director Kang.”

Your fingers tap against the desk. Kang. You know the name well enough—ruthless in business, worse with women. The kind of man who takes what he wants without a second thought.

Jihoon smirks. “Sounds like she dodged a bullet, running into you instead.”

You don’t laugh. If anything, the thought irritates you more. Jiwon thought she could slip away quietly, disappear before anyone noticed. Too bad she met you instead.

Reaching into your drawer, you pull out the grainy black-and-white photo—the one you got from the paparazzi before they had a chance to release it. You and Jiwon, walking into the hotel together.

You should have deleted it, like you always do. But this time, you didn’t.

You slide the photo across the desk. “Spread it.”

Jihoon blinks. “You serious? This’ll stir up a mess.”

“That’s the point.” Your voice is steady, calculated.

Jihoon gives you a long look before shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

You watch him pick up the photo, your mind already working three steps ahead.

Jiwon didn’t know your name when she left.

But soon enough, she’d have no choice but to remember it.

She thought she could run.

But you’re not done with her yet.

A Few Days Later

You sit at your desk, staring at the glossy tablet in front of you. The bold headline screams back at you, accompanied by the grainy photo of you and Jiwon entering the hotel that night.

“Park Jiwon: Desperate Heiress or CEO Yoon’s Latest Fling?”

The article dances around the idea with just enough venom to sting. It paints Jiwon as a woman clinging to survival, her family’s struggling business hanging by a thread, subtly implying that she’s using you to climb her way back up.

You should have seen this coming. Hell, you did see it coming. You were the one who leaked the photo, after all. And yet, something about the way they talk about her—like she’s nothing more than a desperate opportunist—makes your jaw tighten.

Your grip on the tablet hardens before you toss it onto the desk, exhaling sharply.

The intercom buzz “Sir, your grandmother is here to see you—”.

You barely have time to let that information settle before your office door swings open without warning.

"Where are you?!"

You don't need to look up to know who it is. The sharp, authoritative voice—tinged with just enough warmth to remind you she still cares—belongs to only one person.

Your grandmother.

With Jihoon following after her.

"Do you ever knock?" you mutter, running a hand through your hair as she marches in, holding up the same tabloid you were just glaring at.

"I don't need to knock when my dear grandson's face is plastered all over the media with a young woman he's clearly trying to ruin!" she huffs, dropping the magazine onto your desk with a disapproving glare. "Care to explain, dear?"

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. "It’s just a photo. The media exaggerates everything, you know that."

Your grandmother eyes you sternly, lips pursed in that way that makes you feel like you're fifteen again, being scolded for skipping out on family dinners. "Don't play dumb with me, Dear. I taught you better than that."

Before you can offer another half-hearted excuse, her expression softens—just slightly—as she picks up the tablet and runs her fingers over Jiwon’s picture.

"This poor girl," she murmurs, almost to herself. "I remember Park Jiwon. Such a sweet child when I last saw her. Always so polite and thoughtful.” Her eyes flick back to you, sharp once more. “Unlike someone I know.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "I'm sure she’s doing just fine, Grandmother."

"Hmph," she scoffs. "Fine? With her father’s company sinking and now the press tarnishing her name?" She fixes you with a look that could cut through steel. "Tell me, dear. Did you even consider how this might affect her?"

You don't answer right away, which only makes her sigh in disappointment. "Of course you didn't. You're too busy playing your little power games to see what's right in front of you."

Your jaw tightens. "She left me, you know."

Your grandmother raises a delicate brow. "Oh, poor you. A woman left you for once in your life."

You grit your teeth. "That's not the point."

"No," she agrees, settling into the chair across from you. "The point is, you caused a scandal, and now the least you can do is take responsibility."

You arch a brow. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

She gives you a pointed look, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Marry her."

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, dear." Her tone is sweet, but there's steel beneath it. "You've already dragged her name through the mud. The decent thing to do would be to make an honest woman out of her."

You let out a humorless chuckle. "And let me guess, this has nothing to do with your constant nagging about settling down?"

"Of course it does," she says matter-of-factly, offering a saccharine smile. "But more importantly, it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. She needs protection from vultures like Director Kang, and you..." She tilts her head. "You need someone who won’t let you get away with this nonsense anymore."

You exhale, pacing toward the window. Marry Jiwon? The idea should be absurd. You don’t do marriage, relationships, or anything that even remotely resembles commitment. And yet…

Your grandmother watches you closely, her voice softer now. "She's a good girl, Seojoon. And I have no doubt she can handle you."

You glance back at the photo on your desk. Jiwon, with her hesitant smile and those guarded eyes.

Maybe she could.

But claiming her—making her yours—wasn’t about saving her. It never was.

It was about something far more selfish.

You turn back to your grandmother, expression unreadable. "And if I refuse?"

She smiles knowingly. "Then I’ll do what I always do—make your life a living hell until you see reason."

You sigh, rubbing your temple. "Of course you will."

"Good." She stands, smoothing out her coat with deliberate care. "Call her now. Arrange a meeting."

"Now?" You blink, surprised by her urgency.

Your grandmother gives you a pointed look. "Yes, now. Do you think I don't know you, dear?"

You lean back in your chair, stalling. "I don't even have her number."

She merely lifts a brow, unimpressed. "Then call her family."

Before you can protest, her gaze shifts to Jihoon, who straightens under the silent command. Without hesitation, he pulls out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen. Within moments, he steps forward, presenting the device to you with an expectant expression.

The call screen stares back at you, one press away from dialing.

Park Conglomerate.

You glance between the phone and your grandmother, who offers you a sweet yet undeniably stern smile. "Go on, dear. I'm waiting."

You exhale slowly, your fingers hovering over the screen.

Jiwon thought she could leave quietly, slip away without a trace.

She was wrong.

Jiwon let out a tired sigh as she stepped into her bedroom, the weight of the day settling heavily on her shoulders. The soft click of the door behind her sealed her in the quiet sanctuary of her space, a brief moment of solitude she desperately needed.

She walked over to her desk, her movements slow and deliberate, fingers reaching up to remove the delicate earrings that adorned her ears. One by one, she placed them on the glass tray beside her scattered notes and half-empty coffee cups. The cool air brushed against her skin, but her mind was elsewhere.

No matter how much she tried to push it aside, the memories of that night refused to leave her mind. They clung to her like a second skin, vivid and unrelenting, replaying in her thoughts when she least expected it. She could still feel his touch—firm, demanding, yet oddly tender. The way his hands had roamed her body, possessive yet reverent, as if he were memorizing every curve, every inch of her. The heat of his lips tracing along her neck, the scrape of his teeth against her sensitive skin, the way his breath had hitched when she shivered under his touch. It had been overwhelming, intoxicating, and she had been powerless to resist.

Her fingertips grazed the side of her neck absently, recalling the ghost of his touch. She could still feel the faint ache where he had marked her, the memory of his mouth on her skin sending a shiver down her spine. She shouldn’t be thinking about it, shouldn’t be replaying every stolen moment, but she was. It was as if he’d left an invisible mark that wouldn’t fade, a brand that lingered long after the night had ended.

She closed her eyes, and the images came flooding back—his body pressing against hers, the weight of him pinning her to the bed, the way his hips had moved with a rhythm that left her breathless. She could still feel the way he had filled her, the stretch and burn giving way to a pleasure so intense it had left her trembling. His voice, low and rough in her ear, murmuring words she could barely comprehend through the haze of desire. “Moan for me, Jiwon… let it all out.”

Her breath hitched as she remembered the way his hands had gripped her hips, guiding her movements, his touch both commanding and gentle. The way he had looked at her, his dark eyes filled with a hunger that had both terrified and thrilled her. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, yet so utterly desired. And when he had finally brought her to the edge, her body arching into his as she fell apart.

Even now, the memory of it made her pulse quicken, her skin flushing with heat. She could still feel the way his lips had claimed hers, the way his tongue had tangled with hers in a kiss that had left her dizzy. The way his hands had explored her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The way he had whispered her name, his voice rough with need, as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world.

She shouldn’t be thinking about it. She shouldn’t be craving the feel of his hands on her skin, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress, the way he had made her feel so alive, so wanted. But she was. And no matter how hard she tried to push the memories away, they always came back, more vivid, more consuming than before. It was as if he had awakened something in her, something she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she tried.

Her fingers trailed lower, brushing over her collarbone, and she could almost feel his lips following the same path, his breath hot against her skin. She bit her lip, her body betraying her as a flush of warmth spread through her. She shouldn’t be thinking about it. But she was. And she couldn’t stop.

It was just one night, she reminded herself, shaking her head as if to dispel the thoughts. A mistake.

She sighed, pulling her hair loose from its clip, letting the strands fall around her shoulders. Maybe some sleep would finally help clear her mind.

But just as she reached for her journal, a sudden, thunderous voice shattered the calm.

"JIWON!"

Her father’s voice, laced with pure, unrestrained rage, echoed through the house. The sound of her name being screamed like that sent a shiver down her spine. She barely had time to react before the heavy, relentless banging on her door followed.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Open this door right now!" her father bellowed, his fists hammering against the wood with enough force to rattle it in its frame.

Jiwon's breath caught in her throat, heart pounding wildly in her chest. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what had set him off this time, but deep down, she had a sinking feeling she already knew.

Swallowing hard, she took a step toward the door, her fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the handle.

"I said open it!" he roared again, the anger in his voice cutting through her hesitation like a knife.

Jiwon closed her eyes for a brief second, bracing herself for whatever storm was about to come crashing through that door. She inhaled shakily, steadying herself before unlocking it.

Before she could even turn the knob, the door swung open violently, slamming into her and making her stumble back.

“You fucking bitch!” Her father’s voice tore through the air like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.

“Fa—Father…” Jiwon’s voice wavered as she tried to meet his eyes, but before she could—

Slap.

The force of his hand sent her head snapping to the side, a sharp sting blooming across her cheek.

"I raised you, and this is how you repay me?" His voice was a furious snarl. "I should have listened—I should have left you with your mother. Her filthy blood runs through you. Just like her, you're nothing but a disgrace."

Jiwon trembled, her vision blurring as tears welled in her eyes. Her mind struggled to catch up with what was happening, the shock paralyzing her.

“F-Father, wh—what? Wh-why?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with fear.

"Don't you dare pretend you don't know!" he roared, stepping closer, his grip seizing her wrist with crushing force. "I told you to be obedient, to marry Director Kang, and now you're out there sleeping with another man? Do you have any idea how this makes me look? How it tarnishes my company’s reputation?"

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her tears spilling over. “Father… I—I was mistaken, I—”

“Mistaken?!” He yanked her forward, dragging her across the entryway. “You're not my daughter anymore! You’ve humiliated me for the last time.”

“Please, Father, wait—” she sobbed, struggling against his iron grip, but he ignored her, dragging her toward the front door. The harsh fluorescent lighting above made everything feel even colder, emptier.

From the grand staircase, her stepmother watched with an unsettling calm, her lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile. She didn’t move, didn’t speak—just observed, as if this was nothing more than an inevitability she had been waiting for.

"You want to act like a whore? Then go and live like one!" he spat, throwing the door open and shoving her out onto the cold pavement outside. Jiwon staggered, barely catching herself before she fell.

Her father turned away without a second glance, already dismissing her existence. But her stepmother lingered.

Her stepmother stands before the gate, arms crossed, a thin smile tugging at her lips. For a moment, she simply observed, as if savoring the sight of Jiwon trembling.

Jiwon swallowed hard, lifting tearful eyes. “Mother, please…”

Her stepmother crouched gracefully, her touch deceptively gentle as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind Jiwon’s ear. “Oh, Jiwon,” she sighed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “You always were so naive.”

Jiwon’s lips trembled, guilt pressing down on her chest. “I… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Her stepmother smiled, but it never reached her eyes. “Of course you didn’t, dear. You never do, do you?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue in mock disapproval. “But intentions don’t erase consequences.”

Jiwon looked down, shame crawling through her. “I just… I thought…”

Her stepmother's fingers tightened slightly on her chin, lifting her face. “You thought you could play in a world that doesn't belong to you,” she said softly, though there was something sharp beneath her words, something cruel. “You thought you could be reckless and not pay the price. But you’re just like your mother, aren’t you? Always chasing things beyond your reach.”

Jiwon blinked rapidly, her stepmother's words slicing through her defenses with precision. "I—I didn't mean to—"

Her stepmother laughed lightly, standing back up. “I know, dear. But mistakes like yours? They leave stains that don’t wash off easily.” She glanced at the looming gates. “You’ve embarrassed your father for the last time. It’s better this way.”

Jiwon nodded slowly, tears falling freely now. Deep down, she believed it too. This was her fault. No one else’s.

Her stepmother turned back toward the house, pausing at the threshold. She tilted her head, watching Jiwon with a smile that didn’t match the satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “Take care of yourself, Jiwon,” she said sweetly, before glancing at the guards. “Close it.”

As the gates groaned shut, sealing her out, her stepmother’s voice drifted through the cold air one last time. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll convince your father to at least continue treating your mother. Someone has to think of her well-being, after all.”

She stood frozen, chest heaving, her hands trembling as they clutched the fabric of her dress. The cold night air bit at her skin, her hair falling in disheveled strands around her face. Her cheek still burned from the slap, and the ache in her chest threatened to crush her.

Then, her phone vibrated in her pocket, the sudden buzz cutting through the suffocating silence. With shaking hands, she fumbled it out, her blurred vision struggling to focus on the screen.

A notification.

Breaking News: Heir of Park Conglomerate spotted with chaebol bachelor—scandal unfolds.

Jiwon's breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded violently as she stared at the photo accompanying the headline—her and him, stepping into the hotel together, the grainy image unmistakably damning.

Her fingers tightened around the phone, the cold metal trembling against her skin.

The realization hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with relentless force.

She should have known better.

She should have never let herself be so reckless, so desperate for something—anything—that she thought for even a moment he could offer her.

She was the one who let him too close.

She was the one who fell for the way he touched her, the way he looked at her like she was something more than just a pawn in her father’s plans.

She was the one who let a single night ruin everything.

You watch as Jihoon dials the number, his expression calm and professional. The phone rings a few times before someone on the other end picks up.

"Hello, this is Park Group. How may I assist you?" a polite yet detached voice answers.

Jihoon leans slightly forward. "Good evening, this is Jihoon from J Group. We’d like to speak with Chairman Park regarding an important matter."

There’s a brief pause, a faint shuffle on the other end before the voice responds. "Please hold, I'll transfer you to the chairman."

Jihoon meets your eyes, giving you a subtle nod as he waits. A few seconds later, the line clicks.

"This is Chairman Park," the familiar, calculated voice filters through the speaker.

Jihoon quickly hands you the phone, his voice steady but respectful. "Sir, Chairman Park is on the line. I've introduced you as the CEO of J Group."

You take the phone, your grip firm, and bring it to your ear. "Chairman Park," you say evenly.

A brief silence, then his voice, smooth and unreadable, replies, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

“I’d like to discuss a potential marriage arrangement,” you cut straight to the point, feeling the weight of your grandmother’s gaze on you. She’s watching carefully, waiting for every word.

The line falls silent for a moment too long. Then, Chairman Park’s voice, still smooth but with an underlying note of surprise, responds. “A marriage arrangement? Isn’t this... sudden?”

You lean back in your chair, the cool surface of the desk beneath your fingertips grounding you. “Circumstances have changed. I believe it would be in both our interests to resolve this sooner rather than later.”

There’s another silence, as if the man is considering your words carefully. Then, after a pause, he speaks again. “Very well.”

You nod, though he can’t see you. “Perfect. I’ll send you the address, Lets meet there later at 8. ”

But then, you can’t help it — you have to ask. “And Jiwon?”

For a moment, the line is quiet again, and when Chairman Park responds, his tone is careful, almost rehearsed. “She’s... currently unavailable.”

You don’t let it slide. “I’d still like to speak with her.”

There’s a shift in his tone, subtle but noticeable. “She’s resting. This has been... overwhelming for her, as you can imagine.”

Your brow furrows, but you keep your voice steady. “I’d like to hear that from her myself.”

He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “You’re persistent, Don’t you think?”

“I have to be,” you reply, your grip on the phone tightening. Something doesn’t feel right.

Another pause, then, “I’m afraid Jiwon isn’t in a position to talk right now. But don’t worry, you’ll see her soon enough.”

Your eyes narrow, your instincts prickling with unease. Something isn’t adding up. You exchange a glance with your grandmother, who’s watching you closely. The unease swirling in your chest tightens.

“Understood,” you say, your voice calm, but there’s an edge to it now. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You hang up, the silence of the room heavy in the wake of the conversation. Your grandmother’s eyes are on you, sharp as ever.

“What is it?” she asks, sensing the shift in you.

You place the phone down, your fingers lingering on the edge as you stare at it. Something is wrong. The way Chairman Park avoided your questions, the way he kept circling around Jiwon’s whereabouts... you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than he’s letting on.

“So… did they agree?” your grandmother asks impatiently, her sharp eyes studying you like a hawk.

"Yeah, later at eight," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "Jihoon will send you the address."

She nods, satisfied for now, but you can feel the weight of her expectations pressing down on you.

You rise from your chair abruptly, already reaching for your coat. “I have to go somewhere first,” you say, your mind racing ahead.

Jihoon, standing quietly by the door, perks up at your sudden movement. His eyes flick to yours, waiting for instructions.

"Wait for my call," you add, pulling on your coat with a sense of urgency. "Just in case."

Jihoon gives a curt nod, understanding the unspoken tension in your voice. “Understood.”

You don’t wait for another word. With each step out of the office, the uneasy feeling in your chest grows heavier. Something isn’t right—Chairman Park was hiding something, and you weren’t going to sit around and find out what it was the hard way.

As you step outside, the cold air biting against your skin, one thought lingers in your mind.

Where are you, Jiwon?

Jiwon sits hunched over at the bar, her fingers trembling around the glass as she takes another sip. The alcohol burns down her throat, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in her chest. The same dim lighting, the same hushed murmurs of conversation around her—it’s almost comforting. Almost.

Her reflection stares back at her from the glossy surface of the counter, a ghost of the person she used to be. Her cheeks are swollen, a faint imprint of her father’s anger still visible against her skin. Her hair is disheveled, her clothes wrinkled and clinging to her like a bad memory. She swirls the amber liquid in her glass, biting down the sob rising in her throat.

"Rough night?" The bartender’s voice is gentle, but wary. She doesn’t look up, just nods and takes another sip.

"You sure you’re okay, miss?" he presses, his concern deepening. "You've been here a while."

Before she can answer, a voice cuts through the air from behind her. Deep, steady, and far too familiar.

"I’m with her."

Jiwon stiffens, the glass freezing midair. Her pulse quickens, the weight of his presence settling over her like an iron chain. She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is.

Of course he would find her.

“You’re here again, drinking, alone.” Your voice is soft, almost too soft—tinged with something that sounds dangerously close to concern. “I thought I told you not to do that.”

Jiwon doesn't turn around right away. She takes another slow sip, staring down into her glass as if it holds all the answers she’s desperately looking for. When she finally speaks, her voice is light, almost joking—but devoid of any real joy.

“Ah... you’re here, Mister CEO.” A dry chuckle escapes her lips, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I should’ve known.”

She swallows hard, her fingers tightening around the glass. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful,” she murmurs, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for this to happen… I didn’t think someone would take a picture of us.”

Her eyes, glassy and unfocused, blink rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this scandal.”

She’s blaming herself.

A slow, almost amused smile tugs at the corner of your lips. How easily she takes the fall—so eager to carry the weight of it all on those delicate shoulders. It’s almost endearing, really, how she thinks this is her doing.

She has no idea.

No idea that you’re the one who set this all in motion, that every step she’s taken has been within the palm of your hand. And yet, she looks at you with those trusting, guilt-ridden eyes, as if you’re her only lifeline.

You lean in slightly, watching her crumble, savoring the way she still believes you’re the victim here.

It’s almost too easy.

You notice the swollen redness marring her cheek, a stark contrast against her pale skin. It doesn’t take much to piece it together—who did it, why it happened. A slow, simmering anger coils in your chest, familiar and possessive. It always makes you mad when someone lays a hand on what’s yours. And this time is no different.

Your jaw tightens, but your voice remains smooth, unwavering. “Stop drinking,” you say, reaching for the half-empty glass in front of her and sliding it away. “Tidy yourself up. We have somewhere to go.”

She blinks up at you, confusion flickering through the haze in her eyes. You can tell she wants to protest, but something in your tone leaves no room for argument.

You watch as she swallows hard, her fingers trembling slightly before they reach for a napkin, dabbing at the corner of her mouth as if that alone could erase the evidence of what happened.

Good. She’s learning.

Once again, Jiwon found herself following him without hesitation, as if it were second nature. Despite everything that had happened, despite the turmoil in her heart, she couldn't fight the invisible pull he had on her. It was undeniable—an unspoken force that drew her in, compelling her to trust him when she knew she shouldn’t.

He led her to his car and slid in first without a word, his presence commanding in its quiet intensity. With a simple gesture, he motioned for her to join him. And she did. She settled into the passenger seat, her pulse thrumming in her ears, a heavy silence stretching between them.

As he reached for his phone, his voice cut through the stillness, sharp and composed. “Jihoon, get me a dress for a lady. I’ll wait by the lot behind the office.” His tone was cool, effortless—like he was always in control.

A brief pause followed, then his eyes flickered to her, lingering just long enough to make her breath hitch. “As for sizes…” he trailed off, clearly expecting her to respond.

Caught off guard, Jiwon’s cheeks flushed. She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. “Um… I’m a small. My measurements are…” She hesitated before murmuring the numbers, feeling an odd sense of vulnerability under his unwavering gaze.

He listened in silence, his expression giving nothing away. With a curt nod, he relayed the details to Jihoon and ended the call.

The hum of the engine filled the air, the steady rhythm amplifying the tension between them. Jiwon sat stiffly, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her thoughts racing. She could feel his gaze on her, heavy and unrelenting, but she kept her eyes fixed outside the window, watching the blur of city lights pass by.

A quiet sigh escaped him, breaking the stillness. She risked a glance in his direction, anxiety coiling in her chest. Was he disappointed? Angry? The uncertainty gnawed at her, making the silence feel suffocating.

The drive stretched on, each passing moment only deepening the questions swirling in her mind. Her fingers toyed nervously with her coat, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her.

When they finally pulled into the parking lot, Jiwon held her breath. He parked but didn’t move, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, his gaze fixed ahead. The silence thickened, settling heavily between them.

Stealing another glance at him, she found him staring into the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable—watching, waiting.

“Why are we here?” she asked, her voice fragile, barely a whisper. Her eyes stayed on the dashboard, afraid of what she might see in his face. “Why did you bring me here?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then, with a quiet exhale, he finally turned to her. His gaze was steady, piercing. “You looked like you needed somewhere to go,” he said simply.

Jiwon swallowed, her fingers trembling as she gripped her coat tighter. “I… I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” she murmured. “I just… didn’t know where else to go.”

His eyes lingered on her, the weight of his silence making her stomach twist. Then, after a moment, he reached out—his fingers grazing the back of her hand, a touch so light it sent a shiver through her. “You’re not trouble,” he said, his voice softer now, laced with something unfamiliar. “But you shouldn’t be out there alone. Not like this.”

Her throat tightened. “I didn’t have anywhere else,” she admitted, voice breaking. “My father… he…”

She couldn’t finish. The memory of his harsh words, the sting of his slap, still clung to her like a shadow. But she didn’t have to say it—he already knew.

His jaw clenched, a dark flicker in his gaze. “Your father’s a fool,” he said flatly, leaving no room for argument. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Jiwon blinked, caught off guard by the quiet anger simmering beneath his words. She had expected indifference, maybe even judgment—but not this. Not the fierce protectiveness lurking behind his calm demeanor.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she whispered. “I never thought… I never thought someone would take a picture of us. I didn’t think it would turn into this.”

He studied her intently, as if searching for something beneath the surface. Then, with a slow exhale, he leaned back, his hand still lightly resting against hers. “It’s not your fault,” he said, voice steady but resolute. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat. “But I did,” she murmured. “I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have—”

He cut her off with a touch—gentle but firm as his fingers brushed her cheek. The warmth of it burned through the cold she felt inside. “You don’t have to be careful with me,” he said, his tone unwavering. “Not anymore.”

Jiwon’s breath caught. The way he looked at her—dark, possessive, and yet… protective—made her feel things she couldn’t quite name. Things she wasn’t sure she should feel.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, voice trembling. “Why do you care?”

His eyes never wavered from hers, his expression serious. “Because you’re mine,” he said, the words carrying a quiet intensity that left no room for doubt. “And I don’t let anyone take what’s mine.”

A shiver ran down her spine. There was something about the way he said it—calm, certain, as if it was an undeniable truth. She wasn’t sure whether to feel terrified or safe.

Before she could find the words to respond, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the lot. Jihoon emerged from the shadows, a garment bag draped over his arm and a pair of heels in hand.

He offered a polite, reassuring smile as he handed the items through the open window. “Here you go,” he said, his tone light but professional. “I think you’ll like it.”

Jiwon hesitated before taking the bag, her hands trembling slightly. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Jihoon nodded, his gaze briefly flickering toward the man beside her before stepping back. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, the respect in his voice unmistakable.

As he walked away, Jiwon turned back to him, her heart still racing. “What… what is this for?” she asked, her voice tinged with unease.

His eyes met hers, unwavering. “Dinner,” he said simply. “With your father.”

Jiwon’s breath stilled, and she clutched the garment bag tightly, the soft fabric crinkling under her trembling fingers. “Dinner?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “With my father?”

He gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable yet strangely reassuring. “Yes,” he said, his tone even. “To discuss our upcoming marriage.”

Jiwon froze, her lips parting in shock. “M-Marriage?” she stammered, her wide eyes searching his face for some hint of a joke. But there was none. His expression remained calm, composed—completely serious.

“Yes,” he repeated smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It’s the next logical step, don’t you think?”

Jiwon shook her head slowly, disbelief washing over her. “I… I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why would you—why would we…?”

He leaned back slightly, watching her with that same steady gaze that always made her feel like he was ten steps ahead of her. “Because it’s what’s best for you,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Your father will listen to reason if he knows you’re in good hands.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could barely form the words. “But we’re not… we’re not really…”

His lips curled into a faint smile, his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. “Not yet,” he said, tilting his head as if considering something. “But we could be. It’s a solution to your problems, Jiwon. You’ll have security, protection—everything you need.”

Jiwon’s fingers clenched the garment bag tighter, her mind racing. Everything about this felt overwhelming, too sudden, too unreal. She barely even knew what to say. “But marriage isn’t something you can just—just decide like this.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, laced with quiet persuasion. “I’m not forcing you,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “But think about it. No more running, no more uncertainty. Your father will have no reason to push you away anymore.”

Jiwon swallowed hard, her thoughts swirling in chaos. She had spent so long feeling lost, unwanted—always fighting to prove herself. And here he was, offering a way out, a way to fix everything, even if it felt… too easy. Too perfect.

“I…” Her voice faltered, and she looked away, staring down at the fabric in her lap. “It just feels… so sudden.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “Life rarely waits for us to catch up, Jiwon.” He reached out, his fingers grazing the back of her hand, sending a shiver up her spine. “Trust me. This is the right move.”

Her heart fluttered at his touch, her mind screaming at her to think, to question—but all she could feel was the steady pull he had over her, the way his words made everything seem so inevitable.

“I need to think,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

He nodded, as if he had already expected that. “Of course. Take your time,” he said smoothly. “But tonight, just come to dinner. Let your father see that you're not alone.”

Jiwon exhaled shakily, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She didn't trust herself to argue anymore. “Okay,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl.” His smile was small but satisfied, and Jiwon couldn’t help but feel like she had just taken a step onto a path she didn’t fully understand.

“Where… where should I change?” she asked hesitantly, her voice soft and uncertain.

He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the rearview mirror as if he were barely paying attention. “Here,” he said, his tone indifferent, almost bored. “You’re not walking through the building like that, and I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Jiwon exhaled shakily, her fingers tightening around the garment bag as she sat in the passenger seat. The air in the car felt heavy, charged with a tension she couldn’t quite place. He had told her to change right there, in the front seat, and though his tone had been indifferent at first, something about the way he’d said it made her pulse quicken.

“Here?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks already burning at the thought.

He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the steering wheel, his expression unreadable. “Unless you’d rather walk through the building like that,” he said, his tone calm, almost bored. “Your choice.”

Jiwon hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She glanced down at her wrinkled clothes, the faint scent of alcohol still clinging to her. He was right—she couldn't be seen like this and she couldn’t exactly walk into the dinner looking like this. But the idea of changing in the car, with him just inches away, made her stomach twist with nervousness.

“Okay,” she whispered finally, her voice trembling. She unzipped the garment bag, her fingers fumbling as she pulled out the dress. It was a soft pink, simple but elegant, with delicate straps and a fitted silhouette. She glanced at him again, but he wasn’t looking at her his eyes were fixed on the windshield, his expression detached.

She took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she began to undress. She slipped off her coat first, then her shoes, her movements careful but hurried. She could feel the weight of his presence beside her, calm and steady, but there was something about the way he was sitting his jaw tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel that made her heart race.

When she began to unbutton her blouse, she felt it the shift in the air. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but then she heard it: the faintest intake of breath, the softest rustle of fabric as he adjusted his position.

Her heart skipped a beat, her hands freezing mid-motion. She glanced at him, her cheeks burning as she realized his gaze was no longer fixed on the windshield.

His eyes were on her now, dark and intense, and there was something in his expression something heated, almost predatory that made her stomach twist.

“I… I thought you weren’t going to look,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he finally spoke. “I wasn’t,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But you make it difficult not to.”

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at him. There was something in his eyes something possessive, almost hungry that made her stomach twist with a mix of fear and something else she couldn’t quite name. She should protest, should demand he look away, but the way he was looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered made it impossible to think clearly.

Her fingers trembled as she finished unbuttoning her blouse, slipping it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the seat beside her. She could feel his gaze on her, hot and unrelenting, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She reached for the dress, her hands shaking as she pulled it over her head, the soft fabric sliding over her skin. She adjusted the straps, smoothing out the material as it hugged her figure, her cheeks burning under his intense scrutiny.

When she was done, she glanced at him, her breath catching in her throat as she realized he was still watching her, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite place. And then she noticed it—the unmistakable tent in his pants, the evidence of his desire impossible to ignore.

Her heart raced, her mind spinning as she stared at him. The words had slipped out before she could cage them—reckless, impulsive, charged with a heat she hadn’t meant to unleash. “I… I could help you with that.”

The moment the words left her lips, her entire body froze. His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and molten, like embers flaring to life. She backtracked immediately, panic fraying her voice.

“I—I just meant… it looks uncomfortable. You’re clearly… struggling. And I—I might’ve caused that, right? Because of the way I… undressed. We’ve already done it before, so it’s not… and if we do get married, we’ll have to… anyway, so—”

He leaned back in his seat, his eyes darkening as they raked over her—the flushed cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers twisted nervously in the fabric of her pink dress. A slow, predatory smile curved his lips.

“Caused this?” he repeated, his voice rougher now, thumb brushing the edge of the steering wheel. “You think you did this?” His gaze dropped pointedly to the strained fabric of his slacks, then back to her face. “Are you that confident in what you do to me, Jiwon?”

She swallowed, her pulse thrumming wildly. “N-no! I just—I thought—”

“And if we marry,” he cut in, leaning closer, his breath grazing her ear, “we’ll ‘have to do this anyway’?” His hand settled on her thigh, warm and deliberate. “Define this. What exactly are you volunteering for?”

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her skin burning beneath his touch. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“You’re talking in circles,” he murmured, fingers tightening slightly on her leg. “But I’ll admit… your eagerness is… interesting.”

The low, graveled edge to his voice sent a shiver through her. She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted, his tone shifting to a warning—one layered with barely restrained hunger.

“Careful,” he said, his thumb tracing idle circles on her thigh. “You keep offering things you don’t understand. You might regret it.”

But Jiwon, emboldened by the flicker of heat in his eyes, doubled down. “I’m not wrong,” she insisted, lifting her chin. “You said it yourself—I’m yours. So… so this is part of that, isn’t it?”

For a heartbeat, he stared at her, his composure cracking just enough to reveal the hunger beneath. A rough laugh escaped him, his grip on her thigh tightening as he pulled her closer.

“You’re playing with fire,” he said, his voice a dark caress. “But since you’re so determined…” He released her, gesturing vaguely toward his lap, his gaze never leaving hers. “Show me what you’re offering.”

Jiwon’s courage wavered. Her earlier bravado dissolved into shaky uncertainty as she stared at the evidence of his arousal, her mouth suddenly dry. “I… I don’t… How do I…?”

He leaned back, his smile sharp and thrillingly dangerous. “You started this,” he said, his voice a velvet command. “Finish it.”

Jiwon’s fingers trembled as they hovered over the waistband of his slacks, her breath shallow and uneven. His gaze never wavered, a silent dare burning in his eyes as she fumbled with the zipper, the sound obscenely loud in the charged silence. When she finally tugged his pants and underwear down just enough to free his length, her throat went dry. He was thick, already fully hard, and the sight sent a jolt of heat straight to her core.

She hesitated, her palm hovering inches away, until his voice cut through the tension—low, edged with impatience. “Don’t stop now.”

Her first touch was tentative, her fingers wrapping around him with unsure pressure. A sharp inhale escaped him, his jaw clenching, and she froze. But when his hand slid into her hair, not pushing, just anchoring, she took it as permission. Slowly, she began to stroke him, her movements awkward at first, her thumb brushing clumsily over the head.

His reaction was immediate—a low groan, his hips jerking faintly upward into her grip. Emboldened, she tightened her fingers, finding a rhythm that made his breath hitch. She chanced a glance at his face and nearly faltered at what she saw: his head tilted back against the seat, eyes half-lidded but blazing, lips parted as ragged breaths slipped free.

He’s letting go. The realization sent a thrill through her, her own arousal spiking as she watched him unravel. Her strokes grew bolder, her free hand braced against his thigh for balance, her thumb swiping over the slickness beading at his tip.

“Jiwon.” Her name was a growl, a warning and a plea.

She didn’t stop. Instead, she leaned closer, her breath ghosting over his skin as her lips brushed the hollow of his throat. His hand tightened in her hair, yanking her head back just enough to force her to meet his gaze.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his voice fraying at the edges.

She obeyed, her strokes slowing as she watched him—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when she twisted her wrist, the muscle fluttering in his jaw as he fought to keep still. A dark, unfamiliar pride bloomed in her chest. She did this. She reduced him to this—a man of calculated control, now gripping the steering wheel like it might snap under his restraint.

Her own need coiled tighter, her thighs pressing together as she worked him faster, spurred on by the raw hunger in his eyes. She could feel him thickening in her hand, his hips rolling upward to meet her strokes, his breath coming in sharp, fractured bursts.

“That’s it,” he rasped, his free hand sliding down to grip her wrist, not to stop her, but to guide her, his thumb pressing over hers to adjust her rhythm. “Just like that.”

The praise ignited something reckless in her. She leaned in again, her lips grazing his ear. “Do you… like this?” she whispered, the question trembling with a boldness she didn’t recognize.

His laugh was a dark, shattered sound. “You’ll know when I do.”

“Move”

Your voice cuts through the charged air, rough and strained, and Jiwon freezes. Her wide, innocent eyes blink up at you, her lips parted in that soft, questioning way that makes something dark coil tighter in your gut. You watch the confusion flicker across her face—unsure, hesitant—but she obeys.

Slowly, cautiously, she shifts, her touch lingering a moment too long before she pulls her hand away. The absence of her warmth makes your jaw clench, your control hanging by a thread. She’s always so careful, so sweet, and it drives you fucking insane.

You guide her, hands firm on her waist, positioning her until she’s straddling you. Her knees press into the seat on either side of your thighs, her trembling fingers finding tentative purchase on your shoulders. Her breathing is unsteady, shallow, her cheeks flushed pink under the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the windshield.

“Like this?” she whispers, voice uncertain, a quiet vulnerability lacing her tone.

Your hands tighten on her hips, grounding yourself in the softness of her curves, in the way she feels so small beneath your touch. “Yeah,” you rasp, letting your thumbs stroke slow, lazy circles into her skin. “Just like that.”

You can feel the tension in her muscles, the way she holds herself so carefully, afraid of doing something wrong. But you don’t want careful. You don’t want hesitant.

You want her.

With a slow, deliberate pull, you drag her down, pressing her against the hard, aching length of you. Her breath hitches sharply, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she feels just how much you want this—how much you need her.

“You feel that?” you murmur, voice low, dangerous against the shell of her ear. “This is what you do to me, Jiwon.”

She swallows hard, her body trembling slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she shifts, pressing down tentatively, testing the friction, the heat, and fuck, you feel it in your bones.

“Good girl,” you breathe, the words slipping past your lips before you can stop them, and the way she reacts—the way she melts against you—makes your blood run hotter.

Her fingers clutch at your shirt, unsure, unsteady, and you can’t help the way your hands slide up her sides, over her ribs, until you’re cupping her face, forcing her to look at you. “You wanted to help me, don’t you?”

She nods without hesitation, her lips parting in a breathless, “Yes.”

That one word sends something primal surging through you, and your grip tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who’s in control.

“Then move for me,” you say, the command firm, unrelenting.

Jiwon hesitates for the barest second before she obeys, shifting in your lap, rocking against you with shy, uncertain motions that drive you fucking wild. She’s so soft, so eager, and the way she bites down on her lip, trying to hold back those sweet little noises, makes your restraint slip another inch.

“That’s it,” you murmur, one hand slipping down to guide her, helping her find the right rhythm. “Just like that, baby.”

Her breathing stutters, and she clings to you tighter, her forehead resting against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “I— I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admits in a whisper, and the innocence in her voice nearly undoes you.

You smirk, your hands roaming lower, gripping her ass, pulling her closer, grinding her against you until she gasps. “You’re learning,” you murmur, lips brushing against her temple. “And you’re doing so fucking good.”

She shivers, pressing closer, and you can feel the heat pooling between her thighs, the dampness seeping through the thin fabric of her underwear. It takes everything in you not to rip it off, not to flip her over and take everything she’s offering. But you hold back. Barely.

Instead, you let her explore, let her take what she needs. You can feel her pulse racing, feel the anticipation thrumming between you both like a live wire.

“Keep going,” you urge, your hands steady on her hips, guiding, controlling. “I want to feel you.”

And she does. Slowly at first, then with more confidence, grinding against you in slow, teasing rolls that make your grip tighten, your breath grow ragged. She’s needy, desperate in a way she doesn’t quite understand yet, but you do. And you’ll teach her.

You lean in, dragging your lips down the side of her throat, feeling the way she shivers beneath you. “You like this, don’t you?” you whisper, your tongue flicking against the sensitive spot just below her ear. “You like how I feel against you.”

She nods frantically, pressing harder, her soft whimpers filling the small space of the car.

You chuckle darkly, the sound vibrating against her skin. “That’s my girl.”

Her fingers tighten in your hair, and she’s moving faster now, desperate, lost in it, in you. Your grip on her hips turns bruising, guiding her harder, deeper, until the friction becomes unbearable.

“Jiwon,” you groan, your forehead resting against hers, sweat beading at your temples. “You’re gonna drive me fucking crazy.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her lips grazing yours, hesitant, teasing. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You grin against her mouth, your hands slipping beneath her dress, fingers teasing along the edge of her panties. “Yeah,” you murmur. “It is.”

Then, without warning, you flip her onto her back against the seat, pinning her beneath you, your weight pressing down until there’s nowhere for her to go—nowhere for her to hide.

Her eyes widen, lips parting in a soft gasp, but there’s no fear. Only trust.

And that’s all the permission you need.

You press her down into the seat, your weight settling over her like a promise. Jiwon's breath comes in soft, shaky pants, her eyes wide, searching yours, but you see it—the need, the anticipation trembling just beneath the surface of her innocence. You slide your hands under her dress, bunching the fabric up to her waist, revealing the soft curves of her thighs, the damp heat pressing against you through the thin scrap of lace she calls underwear.

"You're already soaked," you murmur, dragging a finger along the slickness pooling between her thighs, feeling her shudder. "How long have you been waiting for this, Jiwon?"

She turns her face to the side, cheeks flushed, biting her lip in that way that drives you insane. "I... I don't know," she whispers, but the way she shifts beneath you, pressing up into your touch, tells a different story.

"Liar," you smirk, pushing her panties aside, letting the heat of her bare skin sear into your palm. You slide a finger inside her without warning, feeling her clench around you, tight, warm, perfect. Her sharp intake of breath is loud—too loud.

Your hand clamps over her mouth instantly, fingers digging into her jaw. "Quiet," you warn, your voice low, dark. "Do you want someone to hear us?"

She shakes her head frantically, her wide eyes meeting yours, but you don't miss the way her thighs tighten around your hand, the way her walls flutter around your fingers like she’s excited by the risk.

You chuckle softly, a dark, knowing sound, and you lean in, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "You like it, don't you?" you whisper, curling your fingers inside her, teasing that spot that makes her squirm. "The thought of someone catching you like this... spread open, taking my fingers, my cock."

She whimpers against your palm, her hips rocking helplessly against your hand. You remove your hand from her mouth, trailing it down her body, savoring the way she trembles beneath you.

"I— I don't..." she tries to deny it, but the words come out shaky, uncertain. You drag your cock along her slit, coating yourself in her slickness, and her breath catches. "Please..."

"Please what, Jiwon?" you murmur, pressing against her entrance, teasing, not giving her what she wants just yet.

She swallows hard, her hands clutching at your shoulders. "Please... don't tease me," she whispers, voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and something she doesn't quite understand yet.

You smirk, pushing inside her in one slow, relentless thrust, watching her eyes widen, her lips parting on a silent cry. She's so tight, so wet, and you groan, feeling her squeeze around you like she's trying to keep you inside forever.

"God, you're gripping me so tight," you growl, your hands sliding down to her hips, holding her still. "You're lucky it's me and not someone else, Jiwon. Someone who wouldn't be so careful with you."

Her nails dig into your back, her walls fluttering around you in response, and you feel it—that dark thrill, the way her body reacts before her mind can catch up.

Then—headlights.

A sudden beam sweeps through the windshield, cutting across Jiwon's flushed skin, illuminating the scene in stark, undeniable clarity. She freezes beneath you, her body going stiff, and for a moment, neither of you move, the tension thick, suffocating.

But then—then.

You feel it.

Her walls clamp down on you, a strangled moan slipping from her lips before she can stop it. The realization hits you hard, a wicked grin curling at your lips as you lean down, your breath hot against her ear.

"You like this," you whisper, rolling your hips slowly, deliberately, dragging a ragged gasp from her throat. "The idea of being seen... being watched."

"I—" She shakes her head, but her nails scrape against your skin, and her hips move on their own, rocking against you.

"Liar," you murmur again, biting down gently on her neck, feeling the way she squirms beneath you. "Look at you, clenching around me so tight. Are you dripping because you're scared, or because you want them to see what a good little wife you are?"

She whimpers, her face turning away in shame, but you catch her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "Tell me, Jiwon," you demand, thrusting deep, slow, pulling another gasp from her. "Would you let them watch? Let them see how I ruin you?"

She shakes her head frantically, but the way her body tightens, the way her thighs tremble against yours, tells you the truth.

"You would," you chuckle darkly, dragging your cock out slowly before slamming back in, making her arch under you. "You'd let them see how desperate you are for me."

"Stop," she pleads, but there's no real conviction in her voice, just raw, trembling need.

You lean down, your lips brushing hers. "Make me," you challenge, your thrusts growing rougher, deeper, filling her completely.

She doesn't. She can't. She's lost in it now, lost in you, her legs wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you deeper, harder.

"You feel so good," you groan, dragging a hand up her body to cup her breast, teasing the sensitive peak. "You were made for this, Jiwon. Made for me."

Her whimpers grow louder, her grip desperate, and you clamp a hand over her mouth again. "Shh," you murmur, your pace relentless. "Unless you want them to hear you."

She moans against your palm, her body trembling violently beneath you, and you feel it—she's close, right on the edge, teetering.

"Come for me," you rasp, thrusting hard, deep, hitting that spot that makes her eyes roll back. "Show me how much you love this."

Her body tenses, and with a muffled cry, she shatters around you, her walls gripping you like a vice, pulling you deeper into her heat. The tight squeeze, the raw desperation, it's too much—your own release hits you like a freight train, a guttural groan ripping from your throat as you spill inside her, holding her close, buried deep.

For a moment, neither of you move, the only sound filling the car is your ragged breathing, the creak of the leather seat beneath you, and the distant hum of the city.

Jiwon slumps against you, trembling, her body still pulsing around you in the aftershocks. Your hands stay firm on her hips, grounding her, keeping her in place.

"You'll regret this tomorrow," you whisper against her damp skin, smirking when she doesn't respond, just clings to you tighter.

For a moment, you let yourself enjoy it—the way she fits against you, the way she’s still trying to catch her breath. But then your eyes flicker to the dashboard, and a low curse slips from your lips.

“Shit.”

Jiwon stirs slightly, dazed and blissed out. “Hmm?”

You run a hand down your face, frustration simmering beneath the lingering heat of your release. “The dinner. Your parents.”

Her entire body stiffens against you, her eyes snapping open in alarm. “Oh my God.”

You grin darkly, smoothing your hands over her hips. “Yeah. We’re very late.”

The drive to the dinner is quiet, the hum of the engine a dull counterpoint to the chaos in your head. You keep your eyes on the road, grip tight on the steering wheel, but you feel her. Always her.

Jiwon sits beside you, radiating a warmth that’s annoying in its persistence. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch it—the flush on her cheeks, the way her fingers trace idle patterns on her thigh, the faint, stupid smile she’s trying to hide. It makes your jaw clench. She’s glowing, soft and satisfied, like she’s just been given something precious instead of fucked raw in a parking lot.

Pathetic.

But then her hand drifts toward yours, tentative, brushing your knuckles. You stiffen. “What?” you snap, sharper than intended.

She flinches, but doesn’t retreat. “Can I… hold your hand?”

The question is so absurd, so ordinary, you nearly laugh. But her eyes—wide, hopeful, still hazy with whatever delusion she’s spinning—stop you. You should refuse. Should remind her this isn’t a romance. But the memory of her body clenching around you, desperate and yours, lingers like a brand.

“Fine,” you mutter, relenting. “If you need to cling.”

Her fingers slip into yours, soft and trusting, and you hate how your pulse jumps. You tell yourself it’s a reward. A leash. Let her have this small comfort, if it keeps her pliant for what’s coming.

She squeezes gently, and you squeeze back—harder, a warning. Mine.

“Thank you,” she whispers, leaning her head against the window, that damned smile still playing on her lips.

You don’t answer. Instead, you focus on the road, on the cold calculus of the dinner ahead. Let her dream. Let her think this changes anything.

But when you pull up to the restaurant, her hand still in yours, you don’t let go. Not yet.

As the car rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant, Jiwon exhaled shakily, her fingers still entwined with his. The steady warmth of his hand had been her anchor throughout the drive, grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. But as the valet opened her door, reality crashed back in, sharp and unforgiving. She pulled her hand away instinctively, smoothing the fabric of her dress in a futile attempt to steady herself.

Stepping out, the towering entrance of the restaurant loomed before her, an imposing reminder of what awaited inside. The mere thought of facing her father—her stepmother—sent an uneasy twist through her stomach.

She lingered by the car, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. He noticed.

With a quiet sigh, he reached out, his palm open in silent reassurance.

“Jiwon,” he murmured, his voice calm and steady. “Come here.”

Her eyes flickered to his hand, uncertainty clouding her expression. “I—”

“You’ll be fine.” His tone softened, but there was an undeniable firmness beneath it. “I’m right here.”

After a beat, she swallowed hard and placed her hand back in his. His fingers curled around hers, firm and unwavering, and the tension coiled in her chest loosened—just a little.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, leading her forward with the quiet confidence she envied. “Just stay close to me,” he said smoothly, as if his presence alone could shield her from everything that lay ahead.

Jiwon nodded, clutching his hand tighter as they stepped through the grand entrance. Inside, the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses faded into the background, overshadowed by the looming confrontation she could feel brewing.

The hostess greeted them with a polite nod before guiding them toward the private dining room. As the door swung open, Jiwon’s heart faltered.

The room was elegant, the chandelier above casting a warm glow over the meticulously arranged table. His grandmother sat at the head, a pillar of quiet authority. At the sight of them entering together, her lips curved ever so slightly, a flicker of intrigue crossing her face.

Her father and stepmother, however, were not so welcoming.

Jiwon’s father’s expression shifted—shock flickering across his usually impassive features before his gaze hardened into something sharper, more calculating. Her stepmother, ever composed, maintained a careful smile, but Jiwon didn’t miss the way her fingers tensed against the table’s edge.

They hadn’t expected her to come. More importantly, they hadn’t expected him.

A fleeting sense of satisfaction sparked in her chest, only to be replaced by the crushing weight of their stares.

Jiwon’s grip on his hand faltered, uncertainty creeping in. Had this been a mistake?

As they stepped further inside, the atmosphere thickened with unspoken expectations. Conversations stilled, glasses set down mid-motion.

Jiwon forced a nervous smile, holding onto him like a lifeline. “Ah, um…” she started, her voice catching in her throat. “Father, Mother, I—” She glanced toward him, as if drawing strength. “This is—”

And then it happened.

The shift.

His demeanor changed in an instant. The warmth that had reassured her moments ago disappeared, replaced by a cold, unrelenting presence.

His gaze fixed on her stepmother with a sharp, unwavering intensity, and the sudden chill in the air made Jiwon’s pulse stutter. The hand that had held hers so gently now felt like a distant memory.

Without thinking, she withdrew her fingers, instinctively retreating from the invisible force radiating from him.

Her throat tightened as she stole a glance at him. Gone was the composed man who had whispered reassurances in the car; in his place stood someone far colder, far more dangerous.

Her father’s voice sliced through the silence. “You’re late.”

Jiwon stiffened at the weight of his disapproval, but beside her, he remained unmoved, his gaze locked on her stepmother with a simmering fury that made her insides twist.

He didn’t need to say a word—his presence alone sent a message clear enough.

Jiwon swallowed, suddenly feeling like an outsider in her own family’s presence.

Maybe… maybe she shouldn’t have come.

The steady hum of the office barely registers in your mind—the clatter of keyboards, the muffled conversations, the occasional shrill ring of a phone. It’s all just background noise, drowned out by the thoughts you can’t seem to shake.

Jiwon.

You stare at the contract in front of you, the words blurring into meaningless lines of text. Your pen rests idle in your hand, tapping against the desk in an erratic rhythm. It’s been fifteen minutes, and you haven’t flipped a page.

She left.

Slipped away before the sun even rose, without a word, without a trace—except for the crumpled bills she left on the nightstand.

Your jaw tightens at the memory. Did she really think it was just a one-night thing? That she could simply walk away and pay it off like some meaningless transaction? The thought settles in your chest like a dull ache, an irritation you can't quite ignore.

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply.

You’re not the type to dwell on these things. And yet, here you are.

A sharp knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

“Sir,” comes a familiar voice, laced with just the right amount of exasperation. “If you’re done brooding dramatically, the board meeting is in thirty minutes. You know, the thing that actually pays your bills?”

You glance up to find Jihoon standing in the doorway, a stack of documents in his hands, the usual tired patience in his expression.

“Brooding?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t brood.”

Jihoon snorts, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “Right. And I’m quitting tomorrow.” He drops the files onto your desk with a dull thud. “You’ve been staring at that page like it’s about to confess its undying love for you. Which, by the way, is kind of unsettling.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “I was thinking.”

“Oh, I can tell. Must be exhausting for you.” Jihoon crosses his arms, watching you closely. “Let me guess—woman trouble?”

You don’t answer, which only makes his grin widen.

“Called it. So, what’s her name?”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second before muttering, “Park Jiwon.”

Jihoon’s brow furrows for a moment, then his eyes widen slightly in recognition. “Wait... Park Jiwon? As in Park Sangho’s daughter?”

The name sits on your tongue uncomfortably. “Park Sangho?”

Jihoon nods. “Yeah, Park Sangho. CEO of Park Conglomerate. Or what’s left of it. They’ve been struggling for a while now.” He pauses, eyeing you carefully. “And his daughter... well, there’s been talk about her getting married off to Director Kang.”

Your fingers tap against the desk. Kang. You know the name well enough—ruthless in business, worse with women. The kind of man who takes what he wants without a second thought.

Jihoon smirks. “Sounds like she dodged a bullet, running into you instead.”

You don’t laugh. If anything, the thought irritates you more. Jiwon thought she could slip away quietly, disappear before anyone noticed. Too bad she met you instead.

Reaching into your drawer, you pull out the grainy black-and-white photo—the one you got from the paparazzi before they had a chance to release it. You and Jiwon, walking into the hotel together.

You should have deleted it, like you always do. But this time, you didn’t.

You slide the photo across the desk. “Spread it.”

Jihoon blinks. “You serious? This’ll stir up a mess.”

“That’s the point.” Your voice is steady, calculated.

Jihoon gives you a long look before shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

You watch him pick up the photo, your mind already working three steps ahead.

Jiwon didn’t know your name when she left.

But soon enough, she’d have no choice but to remember it.

She thought she could run.

A Few Days Later

But you’re not done with her yet.

~~~

You sit at your desk, staring at the glossy tablet in front of you. The bold headline screams back at you, accompanied by the grainy photo of you and Jiwon entering the hotel that night.

“Park Jiwon: Desperate Heiress or CEO Yoon’s Latest Fling?”

The article dances around the idea with just enough venom to sting. It paints Jiwon as a woman clinging to survival, her family’s struggling business hanging by a thread, subtly implying that she’s using you to climb her way back up.

You should have seen this coming. Hell, you did see it coming. You were the one who leaked the photo, after all. And yet, something about the way they talk about her—like she’s nothing more than a desperate opportunist—makes your jaw tighten.

Your grip on the tablet hardens before you toss it onto the desk, exhaling sharply.

The intercom buzz “Sir, your grandmother is here to see you—”.

You barely have time to let that information settle before your office door swings open without warning.

"Where are you?!"

You don't need to look up to know who it is. The sharp, authoritative voice—tinged with just enough warmth to remind you she still cares—belongs to only one person.

Your grandmother.

With Jihoon following after her.

"Do you ever knock?" you mutter, running a hand through your hair as she marches in, holding up the same tabloid you were just glaring at.

"I don't need to knock when my dear grandson's face is plastered all over the media with a young woman he's clearly trying to ruin!" she huffs, dropping the magazine onto your desk with a disapproving glare. "Care to explain, dear?"

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. "It’s just a photo. The media exaggerates everything, you know that."

Your grandmother eyes you sternly, lips pursed in that way that makes you feel like you're fifteen again, being scolded for skipping out on family dinners. "Don't play dumb with me, Dear. I taught you better than that."

Before you can offer another half-hearted excuse, her expression softens—just slightly—as she picks up the tablet and runs her fingers over Jiwon’s picture.

"This poor girl," she murmurs, almost to herself. "I remember Park Jiwon. Such a sweet child when I last saw her. Always so polite and thoughtful.” Her eyes flick back to you, sharp once more. “Unlike someone I know.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "I'm sure she’s doing just fine, Grandmother."

"Hmph," she scoffs. "Fine? With her father’s company sinking and now the press tarnishing her name?" She fixes you with a look that could cut through steel. "Tell me, dear. Did you even consider how this might affect her?"

You don't answer right away, which only makes her sigh in disappointment. "Of course you didn't. You're too busy playing your little power games to see what's right in front of you."

Your jaw tightens. "She left me, you know."

Your grandmother raises a delicate brow. "Oh, poor you. A woman left you for once in your life."

You grit your teeth. "That's not the point."

"No," she agrees, settling into the chair across from you. "The point is, you caused a scandal, and now the least you can do is take responsibility."

You arch a brow. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

She gives you a pointed look, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Marry her."

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, dear." Her tone is sweet, but there's steel beneath it. "You've already dragged her name through the mud. The decent thing to do would be to make an honest woman out of her."

You let out a humorless chuckle. "And let me guess, this has nothing to do with your constant nagging about settling down?"

"Of course it does," she says matter-of-factly, offering a saccharine smile. "But more importantly, it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. She needs protection from vultures like Director Kang, and you..." She tilts her head. "You need someone who won’t let you get away with this nonsense anymore."

You exhale, pacing toward the window. Marry Jiwon? The idea should be absurd. You don’t do marriage, relationships, or anything that even remotely resembles commitment. And yet…

Your grandmother watches you closely, her voice softer now. "She's a good girl, Seojoon. And I have no doubt she can handle you."

You glance back at the photo on your desk. Jiwon, with her hesitant smile and those guarded eyes.

Maybe she could.

But claiming her—making her yours—wasn’t about saving her. It never was.

It was about something far more selfish.

You turn back to your grandmother, expression unreadable. "And if I refuse?"

She smiles knowingly. "Then I’ll do what I always do—make your life a living hell until you see reason."

You sigh, rubbing your temple. "Of course you will."

"Good." She stands, smoothing out her coat with deliberate care. "Call her now. Arrange a meeting."

"Now?" You blink, surprised by her urgency.

Your grandmother gives you a pointed look. "Yes, now. Do you think I don't know you, dear?"

You lean back in your chair, stalling. "I don't even have her number."

She merely lifts a brow, unimpressed. "Then call her family."

Before you can protest, her gaze shifts to Jihoon, who straightens under the silent command. Without hesitation, he pulls out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen. Within moments, he steps forward, presenting the device to you with an expectant expression.

The call screen stares back at you, one press away from dialing.

Park Conglomerate.

You glance between the phone and your grandmother, who offers you a sweet yet undeniably stern smile. "Go on, dear. I'm waiting."

You exhale slowly, your fingers hovering over the screen.

Jiwon thought she could leave quietly, slip away without a trace.

Jiwon let out a tired sigh as she stepped into her bedroom, the weight of the day settling heavily on her shoulders. The soft click of the door behind her sealed her in the quiet sanctuary of her space, a brief moment of solitude she desperately needed.

She was wrong.

~~~

She walked over to her desk, her movements slow and deliberate, fingers reaching up to remove the delicate earrings that adorned her ears. One by one, she placed them on the glass tray beside her scattered notes and half-empty coffee cups. The cool air brushed against her skin, but her mind was elsewhere.

No matter how much she tried to push it aside, the memories of that night refused to leave her mind. They clung to her like a second skin, vivid and unrelenting, replaying in her thoughts when she least expected it. She could still feel his touch—firm, demanding, yet oddly tender. The way his hands had roamed her body, possessive yet reverent, as if he were memorizing every curve, every inch of her. The heat of his lips tracing along her neck, the scrape of his teeth against her sensitive skin, the way his breath had hitched when she shivered under his touch. It had been overwhelming, intoxicating, and she had been powerless to resist.

Her fingertips grazed the side of her neck absently, recalling the ghost of his touch. She could still feel the faint ache where he had marked her, the memory of his mouth on her skin sending a shiver down her spine. She shouldn’t be thinking about it, shouldn’t be replaying every stolen moment, but she was. It was as if he’d left an invisible mark that wouldn’t fade, a brand that lingered long after the night had ended.

She closed her eyes, and the images came flooding back—his body pressing against hers, the weight of him pinning her to the bed, the way his hips had moved with a rhythm that left her breathless. She could still feel the way he had filled her, the stretch and burn giving way to a pleasure so intense it had left her trembling. His voice, low and rough in her ear, murmuring words she could barely comprehend through the haze of desire. “Moan for me, Jiwon… let it all out.”

Her breath hitched as she remembered the way his hands had gripped her hips, guiding her movements, his touch both commanding and gentle. The way he had looked at her, his dark eyes filled with a hunger that had both terrified and thrilled her. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, yet so utterly desired. And when he had finally brought her to the edge, her body arching into his as she fell apart.

Even now, the memory of it made her pulse quicken, her skin flushing with heat. She could still feel the way his lips had claimed hers, the way his tongue had tangled with hers in a kiss that had left her dizzy. The way his hands had explored her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The way he had whispered her name, his voice rough with need, as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world.

She shouldn’t be thinking about it. She shouldn’t be craving the feel of his hands on her skin, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress, the way he had made her feel so alive, so wanted. But she was. And no matter how hard she tried to push the memories away, they always came back, more vivid, more consuming than before. It was as if he had awakened something in her, something she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she tried.

Her fingers trailed lower, brushing over her collarbone, and she could almost feel his lips following the same path, his breath hot against her skin. She bit her lip, her body betraying her as a flush of warmth spread through her. She shouldn’t be thinking about it. But she was. And she couldn’t stop.

It was just one night, she reminded herself, shaking her head as if to dispel the thoughts. A mistake.

She sighed, pulling her hair loose from its clip, letting the strands fall around her shoulders. Maybe some sleep would finally help clear her mind.

But just as she reached for her journal, a sudden, thunderous voice shattered the calm.

"JIWON!"

Her father’s voice, laced with pure, unrestrained rage, echoed through the house. The sound of her name being screamed like that sent a shiver down her spine. She barely had time to react before the heavy, relentless banging on her door followed.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Open this door right now!" her father bellowed, his fists hammering against the wood with enough force to rattle it in its frame.

Jiwon's breath caught in her throat, heart pounding wildly in her chest. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what had set him off this time, but deep down, she had a sinking feeling she already knew.

Swallowing hard, she took a step toward the door, her fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the handle.

"I said open it!" he roared again, the anger in his voice cutting through her hesitation like a knife.

Jiwon closed her eyes for a brief second, bracing herself for whatever storm was about to come crashing through that door. She inhaled shakily, steadying herself before unlocking it.

Before she could even turn the knob, the door swung open violently, slamming into her and making her stumble back.

“You fucking bitch!” Her father’s voice tore through the air like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.

“Fa—Father…” Jiwon’s voice wavered as she tried to meet his eyes, but before she could—

Slap.

The force of his hand sent her head snapping to the side, a sharp sting blooming across her cheek.

"I raised you, and this is how you repay me?" His voice was a furious snarl. "I should have listened—I should have left you with your mother. Her filthy blood runs through you. Just like her, you're nothing but a disgrace."

Jiwon trembled, her vision blurring as tears welled in her eyes. Her mind struggled to catch up with what was happening, the shock paralyzing her.

“F-Father, wh—what? Wh-why?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with fear.

"Don't you dare pretend you don't know!" he roared, stepping closer, his grip seizing her wrist with crushing force. "I told you to be obedient, to marry Director Kang, and now you're out there sleeping with another man? Do you have any idea how this makes me look? How it tarnishes my company’s reputation?"

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her tears spilling over. “Father… I—I was mistaken, I—”

“Mistaken?!” He yanked her forward, dragging her across the entryway. “You're not my daughter anymore! You’ve humiliated me for the last time.”

“Please, Father, wait—” she sobbed, struggling against his iron grip, but he ignored her, dragging her toward the front door. The harsh fluorescent lighting above made everything feel even colder, emptier.

From the grand staircase, her stepmother watched with an unsettling calm, her lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile. She didn’t move, didn’t speak—just observed, as if this was nothing more than an inevitability she had been waiting for.

"You want to act like a whore? Then go and live like one!" he spat, throwing the door open and shoving her out onto the cold pavement outside. Jiwon staggered, barely catching herself before she fell.

Her father turned away without a second glance, already dismissing her existence. But her stepmother lingered.

Her stepmother stands before the gate, arms crossed, a thin smile tugging at her lips. For a moment, she simply observed, as if savoring the sight of Jiwon trembling.

Jiwon swallowed hard, lifting tearful eyes. “Mother, please…”

Her stepmother crouched gracefully, her touch deceptively gentle as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind Jiwon’s ear. “Oh, Jiwon,” she sighed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “You always were so naive.”

Jiwon’s lips trembled, guilt pressing down on her chest. “I… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Her stepmother smiled, but it never reached her eyes. “Of course you didn’t, dear. You never do, do you?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue in mock disapproval. “But intentions don’t erase consequences.”

Jiwon looked down, shame crawling through her. “I just… I thought…”

Her stepmother's fingers tightened slightly on her chin, lifting her face. “You thought you could play in a world that doesn't belong to you,” she said softly, though there was something sharp beneath her words, something cruel. “You thought you could be reckless and not pay the price. But you’re just like your mother, aren’t you? Always chasing things beyond your reach.”

Jiwon blinked rapidly, her stepmother's words slicing through her defenses with precision. "I—I didn't mean to—"

Her stepmother laughed lightly, standing back up. “I know, dear. But mistakes like yours? They leave stains that don’t wash off easily.” She glanced at the looming gates. “You’ve embarrassed your father for the last time. It’s better this way.”

Jiwon nodded slowly, tears falling freely now. Deep down, she believed it too. This was her fault. No one else’s.

Her stepmother turned back toward the house, pausing at the threshold. She tilted her head, watching Jiwon with a smile that didn’t match the satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “Take care of yourself, Jiwon,” she said sweetly, before glancing at the guards. “Close it.”

As the gates groaned shut, sealing her out, her stepmother’s voice drifted through the cold air one last time. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll convince your father to at least continue treating your mother. Someone has to think of her well-being, after all.”

She stood frozen, chest heaving, her hands trembling as they clutched the fabric of her dress. The cold night air bit at her skin, her hair falling in disheveled strands around her face. Her cheek still burned from the slap, and the ache in her chest threatened to crush her.

Then, her phone vibrated in her pocket, the sudden buzz cutting through the suffocating silence. With shaking hands, she fumbled it out, her blurred vision struggling to focus on the screen.

A notification.

Breaking News: Heir of Park Conglomerate spotted with chaebol bachelor—scandal unfolds.

Jiwon's breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded violently as she stared at the photo accompanying the headline—her and him, stepping into the hotel together, the grainy image unmistakably damning.

Her fingers tightened around the phone, the cold metal trembling against her skin.

The realization hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with relentless force.

She should have known better.

She should have never let herself be so reckless, so desperate for something—anything—that she thought for even a moment he could offer her.

She was the one who let him too close.

She was the one who fell for the way he touched her, the way he looked at her like she was something more than just a pawn in her father’s plans.

You watch as Jihoon dials the number, his expression calm and professional. The phone rings a few times before someone on the other end picks up.

She was the one who let a single night ruin everything.

~~~

"Hello, this is Park Group. How may I assist you?" a polite yet detached voice answers.

Jihoon leans slightly forward. "Good evening, this is Jihoon from J Group. We’d like to speak with Chairman Park regarding an important matter."

There’s a brief pause, a faint shuffle on the other end before the voice responds. "Please hold, I'll transfer you to the chairman."

Jihoon meets your eyes, giving you a subtle nod as he waits. A few seconds later, the line clicks.

"This is Chairman Park," the familiar, calculated voice filters through the speaker.

Jihoon quickly hands you the phone, his voice steady but respectful. "Sir, Chairman Park is on the line. I've introduced you as the CEO of J Group."

You take the phone, your grip firm, and bring it to your ear. "Chairman Park," you say evenly.

A brief silence, then his voice, smooth and unreadable, replies, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

“I’d like to discuss a potential marriage arrangement,” you cut straight to the point, feeling the weight of your grandmother’s gaze on you. She’s watching carefully, waiting for every word.

The line falls silent for a moment too long. Then, Chairman Park’s voice, still smooth but with an underlying note of surprise, responds. “A marriage arrangement? Isn’t this... sudden?”

You lean back in your chair, the cool surface of the desk beneath your fingertips grounding you. “Circumstances have changed. I believe it would be in both our interests to resolve this sooner rather than later.”

There’s another silence, as if the man is considering your words carefully. Then, after a pause, he speaks again. “Very well.”

You nod, though he can’t see you. “Perfect. I’ll send you the address, Lets meet there later at 8. ”

But then, you can’t help it — you have to ask. “And Jiwon?”

For a moment, the line is quiet again, and when Chairman Park responds, his tone is careful, almost rehearsed. “She’s... currently unavailable.”

You don’t let it slide. “I’d still like to speak with her.”

There’s a shift in his tone, subtle but noticeable. “She’s resting. This has been... overwhelming for her, as you can imagine.”

Your brow furrows, but you keep your voice steady. “I’d like to hear that from her myself.”

He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “You’re persistent, Don’t you think?”

“I have to be,” you reply, your grip on the phone tightening. Something doesn’t feel right.

Another pause, then, “I’m afraid Jiwon isn’t in a position to talk right now. But don’t worry, you’ll see her soon enough.”

Your eyes narrow, your instincts prickling with unease. Something isn’t adding up. You exchange a glance with your grandmother, who’s watching you closely. The unease swirling in your chest tightens.

“Understood,” you say, your voice calm, but there’s an edge to it now. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You hang up, the silence of the room heavy in the wake of the conversation. Your grandmother’s eyes are on you, sharp as ever.

“What is it?” she asks, sensing the shift in you.

You place the phone down, your fingers lingering on the edge as you stare at it. Something is wrong. The way Chairman Park avoided your questions, the way he kept circling around Jiwon’s whereabouts... you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than he’s letting on.

“So… did they agree?” your grandmother asks impatiently, her sharp eyes studying you like a hawk.

"Yeah, later at eight," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "Jihoon will send you the address."

She nods, satisfied for now, but you can feel the weight of her expectations pressing down on you.

You rise from your chair abruptly, already reaching for your coat. “I have to go somewhere first,” you say, your mind racing ahead.

Jihoon, standing quietly by the door, perks up at your sudden movement. His eyes flick to yours, waiting for instructions.

"Wait for my call," you add, pulling on your coat with a sense of urgency. "Just in case."

Jihoon gives a curt nod, understanding the unspoken tension in your voice. “Understood.”

You don’t wait for another word. With each step out of the office, the uneasy feeling in your chest grows heavier. Something isn’t right—Chairman Park was hiding something, and you weren’t going to sit around and find out what it was the hard way.

As you step outside, the cold air biting against your skin, one thought lingers in your mind.

Jiwon sits hunched over at the bar, her fingers trembling around the glass as she takes another sip. The alcohol burns down her throat, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in her chest. The same dim lighting, the same hushed murmurs of conversation around her—it’s almost comforting. Almost.

Where are you, Jiwon?

~~~

Her reflection stares back at her from the glossy surface of the counter, a ghost of the person she used to be. Her cheeks are swollen, a faint imprint of her father’s anger still visible against her skin. Her hair is disheveled, her clothes wrinkled and clinging to her like a bad memory. She swirls the amber liquid in her glass, biting down the sob rising in her throat.

"Rough night?" The bartender’s voice is gentle, but wary. She doesn’t look up, just nods and takes another sip.

"You sure you’re okay, miss?" he presses, his concern deepening. "You've been here a while."

Before she can answer, a voice cuts through the air from behind her. Deep, steady, and far too familiar.

"I’m with her."

Jiwon stiffens, the glass freezing midair. Her pulse quickens, the weight of his presence settling over her like an iron chain. She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is.

Of course he would find her.

“You’re here again, drinking, alone.” Your voice is soft, almost too soft—tinged with something that sounds dangerously close to concern. “I thought I told you not to do that.”

Jiwon doesn't turn around right away. She takes another slow sip, staring down into her glass as if it holds all the answers she’s desperately looking for. When she finally speaks, her voice is light, almost joking—but devoid of any real joy.

“Ah... you’re here, Mister CEO.” A dry chuckle escapes her lips, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I should’ve known.”

She swallows hard, her fingers tightening around the glass. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful,” she murmurs, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for this to happen… I didn’t think someone would take a picture of us.”

Her eyes, glassy and unfocused, blink rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this scandal.”

She’s blaming herself.

A slow, almost amused smile tugs at the corner of your lips. How easily she takes the fall—so eager to carry the weight of it all on those delicate shoulders. It’s almost endearing, really, how she thinks this is her doing.

She has no idea.

No idea that you’re the one who set this all in motion, that every step she’s taken has been within the palm of your hand. And yet, she looks at you with those trusting, guilt-ridden eyes, as if you’re her only lifeline.

You lean in slightly, watching her crumble, savoring the way she still believes you’re the victim here.

It’s almost too easy.

You notice the swollen redness marring her cheek, a stark contrast against her pale skin. It doesn’t take much to piece it together—who did it, why it happened. A slow, simmering anger coils in your chest, familiar and possessive. It always makes you mad when someone lays a hand on what’s yours. And this time is no different.

Your jaw tightens, but your voice remains smooth, unwavering. “Stop drinking,” you say, reaching for the half-empty glass in front of her and sliding it away. “Tidy yourself up. We have somewhere to go.”

She blinks up at you, confusion flickering through the haze in her eyes. You can tell she wants to protest, but something in your tone leaves no room for argument.

You watch as she swallows hard, her fingers trembling slightly before they reach for a napkin, dabbing at the corner of her mouth as if that alone could erase the evidence of what happened.

Once again, Jiwon found herself following him without hesitation, as if it were second nature. Despite everything that had happened, despite the turmoil in her heart, she couldn't fight the invisible pull he had on her. It was undeniable—an unspoken force that drew her in, compelling her to trust him when she knew she shouldn’t.

Good. She’s learning.

~~~

He led her to his car and slid in first without a word, his presence commanding in its quiet intensity. With a simple gesture, he motioned for her to join him. And she did. She settled into the passenger seat, her pulse thrumming in her ears, a heavy silence stretching between them.

As he reached for his phone, his voice cut through the stillness, sharp and composed. “Jihoon, get me a dress for a lady. I’ll wait by the lot behind the office.” His tone was cool, effortless—like he was always in control.

A brief pause followed, then his eyes flickered to her, lingering just long enough to make her breath hitch. “As for sizes…” he trailed off, clearly expecting her to respond.

Caught off guard, Jiwon’s cheeks flushed. She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. “Um… I’m a small. My measurements are…” She hesitated before murmuring the numbers, feeling an odd sense of vulnerability under his unwavering gaze.

He listened in silence, his expression giving nothing away. With a curt nod, he relayed the details to Jihoon and ended the call.

The hum of the engine filled the air, the steady rhythm amplifying the tension between them. Jiwon sat stiffly, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her thoughts racing. She could feel his gaze on her, heavy and unrelenting, but she kept her eyes fixed outside the window, watching the blur of city lights pass by.

A quiet sigh escaped him, breaking the stillness. She risked a glance in his direction, anxiety coiling in her chest. Was he disappointed? Angry? The uncertainty gnawed at her, making the silence feel suffocating.

The drive stretched on, each passing moment only deepening the questions swirling in her mind. Her fingers toyed nervously with her coat, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her.

When they finally pulled into the parking lot, Jiwon held her breath. He parked but didn’t move, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, his gaze fixed ahead. The silence thickened, settling heavily between them.

Stealing another glance at him, she found him staring into the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable—watching, waiting.

“Why are we here?” she asked, her voice fragile, barely a whisper. Her eyes stayed on the dashboard, afraid of what she might see in his face. “Why did you bring me here?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then, with a quiet exhale, he finally turned to her. His gaze was steady, piercing. “You looked like you needed somewhere to go,” he said simply.

Jiwon swallowed, her fingers trembling as she gripped her coat tighter. “I… I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” she murmured. “I just… didn’t know where else to go.”

His eyes lingered on her, the weight of his silence making her stomach twist. Then, after a moment, he reached out—his fingers grazing the back of her hand, a touch so light it sent a shiver through her. “You’re not trouble,” he said, his voice softer now, laced with something unfamiliar. “But you shouldn’t be out there alone. Not like this.”

Her throat tightened. “I didn’t have anywhere else,” she admitted, voice breaking. “My father… he…”

She couldn’t finish. The memory of his harsh words, the sting of his slap, still clung to her like a shadow. But she didn’t have to say it—he already knew.

His jaw clenched, a dark flicker in his gaze. “Your father’s a fool,” he said flatly, leaving no room for argument. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Jiwon blinked, caught off guard by the quiet anger simmering beneath his words. She had expected indifference, maybe even judgment—but not this. Not the fierce protectiveness lurking behind his calm demeanor.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she whispered. “I never thought… I never thought someone would take a picture of us. I didn’t think it would turn into this.”

He studied her intently, as if searching for something beneath the surface. Then, with a slow exhale, he leaned back, his hand still lightly resting against hers. “It’s not your fault,” he said, voice steady but resolute. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat. “But I did,” she murmured. “I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have—”

He cut her off with a touch—gentle but firm as his fingers brushed her cheek. The warmth of it burned through the cold she felt inside. “You don’t have to be careful with me,” he said, his tone unwavering. “Not anymore.”

Jiwon’s breath caught. The way he looked at her—dark, possessive, and yet… protective—made her feel things she couldn’t quite name. Things she wasn’t sure she should feel.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, voice trembling. “Why do you care?”

His eyes never wavered from hers, his expression serious. “Because you’re mine,” he said, the words carrying a quiet intensity that left no room for doubt. “And I don’t let anyone take what’s mine.”

A shiver ran down her spine. There was something about the way he said it—calm, certain, as if it was an undeniable truth. She wasn’t sure whether to feel terrified or safe.

Before she could find the words to respond, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the lot. Jihoon emerged from the shadows, a garment bag draped over his arm and a pair of heels in hand.

He offered a polite, reassuring smile as he handed the items through the open window. “Here you go,” he said, his tone light but professional. “I think you’ll like it.”

Jiwon hesitated before taking the bag, her hands trembling slightly. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Jihoon nodded, his gaze briefly flickering toward the man beside her before stepping back. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, the respect in his voice unmistakable.

As he walked away, Jiwon turned back to him, her heart still racing. “What… what is this for?” she asked, her voice tinged with unease.

His eyes met hers, unwavering. “Dinner,” he said simply. “With your father.”

Jiwon’s breath stilled, and she clutched the garment bag tightly, the soft fabric crinkling under her trembling fingers. “Dinner?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “With my father?”

He gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable yet strangely reassuring. “Yes,” he said, his tone even. “To discuss our upcoming marriage.”

Jiwon froze, her lips parting in shock. “M-Marriage?” she stammered, her wide eyes searching his face for some hint of a joke. But there was none. His expression remained calm, composed—completely serious.

“Yes,” he repeated smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It’s the next logical step, don’t you think?”

Jiwon shook her head slowly, disbelief washing over her. “I… I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why would you—why would we…?”

He leaned back slightly, watching her with that same steady gaze that always made her feel like he was ten steps ahead of her. “Because it’s what’s best for you,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Your father will listen to reason if he knows you’re in good hands.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could barely form the words. “But we’re not… we’re not really…”

His lips curled into a faint smile, his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. “Not yet,” he said, tilting his head as if considering something. “But we could be. It’s a solution to your problems, Jiwon. You’ll have security, protection—everything you need.”

Jiwon’s fingers clenched the garment bag tighter, her mind racing. Everything about this felt overwhelming, too sudden, too unreal. She barely even knew what to say. “But marriage isn’t something you can just—just decide like this.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, laced with quiet persuasion. “I’m not forcing you,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “But think about it. No more running, no more uncertainty. Your father will have no reason to push you away anymore.”

Jiwon swallowed hard, her thoughts swirling in chaos. She had spent so long feeling lost, unwanted—always fighting to prove herself. And here he was, offering a way out, a way to fix everything, even if it felt… too easy. Too perfect.

“I…” Her voice faltered, and she looked away, staring down at the fabric in her lap. “It just feels… so sudden.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “Life rarely waits for us to catch up, Jiwon.” He reached out, his fingers grazing the back of her hand, sending a shiver up her spine. “Trust me. This is the right move.”

Her heart fluttered at his touch, her mind screaming at her to think, to question—but all she could feel was the steady pull he had over her, the way his words made everything seem so inevitable.

“I need to think,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

He nodded, as if he had already expected that. “Of course. Take your time,” he said smoothly. “But tonight, just come to dinner. Let your father see that you're not alone.”

Jiwon exhaled shakily, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She didn't trust herself to argue anymore. “Okay,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl.” His smile was small but satisfied, and Jiwon couldn’t help but feel like she had just taken a step onto a path she didn’t fully understand.

“Where… where should I change?” she asked hesitantly, her voice soft and uncertain.

He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the rearview mirror as if he were barely paying attention. “Here,” he said, his tone indifferent, almost bored. “You’re not walking through the building like that, and I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Jiwon exhaled shakily, her fingers tightening around the garment bag as she sat in the passenger seat. The air in the car felt heavy, charged with a tension she couldn’t quite place. He had told her to change right there, in the front seat, and though his tone had been indifferent at first, something about the way he’d said it made her pulse quicken.

“Here?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks already burning at the thought.

He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the steering wheel, his expression unreadable. “Unless you’d rather walk through the building like that,” he said, his tone calm, almost bored. “Your choice.”

Jiwon hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She glanced down at her wrinkled clothes, the faint scent of alcohol still clinging to her. He was right—she couldn't be seen like this and she couldn’t exactly walk into the dinner looking like this. But the idea of changing in the car, with him just inches away, made her stomach twist with nervousness.

“Okay,” she whispered finally, her voice trembling. She unzipped the garment bag, her fingers fumbling as she pulled out the dress. It was a soft pink, simple but elegant, with delicate straps and a fitted silhouette. She glanced at him again, but he wasn’t looking at her his eyes were fixed on the windshield, his expression detached.

She took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she began to undress. She slipped off her coat first, then her shoes, her movements careful but hurried. She could feel the weight of his presence beside her, calm and steady, but there was something about the way he was sitting his jaw tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel that made her heart race.

When she began to unbutton her blouse, she felt it the shift in the air. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but then she heard it: the faintest intake of breath, the softest rustle of fabric as he adjusted his position.

Her heart skipped a beat, her hands freezing mid-motion. She glanced at him, her cheeks burning as she realized his gaze was no longer fixed on the windshield.

His eyes were on her now, dark and intense, and there was something in his expression something heated, almost predatory that made her stomach twist.

“I… I thought you weren’t going to look,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he finally spoke. “I wasn’t,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But you make it difficult not to.”

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at him. There was something in his eyes something possessive, almost hungry that made her stomach twist with a mix of fear and something else she couldn’t quite name. She should protest, should demand he look away, but the way he was looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered made it impossible to think clearly.

Her fingers trembled as she finished unbuttoning her blouse, slipping it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the seat beside her. She could feel his gaze on her, hot and unrelenting, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She reached for the dress, her hands shaking as she pulled it over her head, the soft fabric sliding over her skin. She adjusted the straps, smoothing out the material as it hugged her figure, her cheeks burning under his intense scrutiny.

When she was done, she glanced at him, her breath catching in her throat as she realized he was still watching her, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite place. And then she noticed it—the unmistakable tent in his pants, the evidence of his desire impossible to ignore.

Her heart raced, her mind spinning as she stared at him. The words had slipped out before she could cage them—reckless, impulsive, charged with a heat she hadn’t meant to unleash. “I… I could help you with that.”

The moment the words left her lips, her entire body froze. His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and molten, like embers flaring to life. She backtracked immediately, panic fraying her voice.

“I—I just meant… it looks uncomfortable. You’re clearly… struggling. And I—I might’ve caused that, right? Because of the way I… undressed. We’ve already done it before, so it’s not… and if we do get married, we’ll have to… anyway, so—”

He leaned back in his seat, his eyes darkening as they raked over her—the flushed cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers twisted nervously in the fabric of her pink dress. A slow, predatory smile curved his lips.

“Caused this?” he repeated, his voice rougher now, thumb brushing the edge of the steering wheel. “You think you did this?” His gaze dropped pointedly to the strained fabric of his slacks, then back to her face. “Are you that confident in what you do to me, Jiwon?”

She swallowed, her pulse thrumming wildly. “N-no! I just—I thought—”

“And if we marry,” he cut in, leaning closer, his breath grazing her ear, “we’ll ‘have to do this anyway’?” His hand settled on her thigh, warm and deliberate. “Define this. What exactly are you volunteering for?”

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her skin burning beneath his touch. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“You’re talking in circles,” he murmured, fingers tightening slightly on her leg. “But I’ll admit… your eagerness is… interesting.”

The low, graveled edge to his voice sent a shiver through her. She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted, his tone shifting to a warning—one layered with barely restrained hunger.

“Careful,” he said, his thumb tracing idle circles on her thigh. “You keep offering things you don’t understand. You might regret it.”

But Jiwon, emboldened by the flicker of heat in his eyes, doubled down. “I’m not wrong,” she insisted, lifting her chin. “You said it yourself—I’m yours. So… so this is part of that, isn’t it?”

For a heartbeat, he stared at her, his composure cracking just enough to reveal the hunger beneath. A rough laugh escaped him, his grip on her thigh tightening as he pulled her closer.

“You’re playing with fire,” he said, his voice a dark caress. “But since you’re so determined…” He released her, gesturing vaguely toward his lap, his gaze never leaving hers. “Show me what you’re offering.”

Jiwon’s courage wavered. Her earlier bravado dissolved into shaky uncertainty as she stared at the evidence of his arousal, her mouth suddenly dry. “I… I don’t… How do I…?”

He leaned back, his smile sharp and thrillingly dangerous. “You started this,” he said, his voice a velvet command. “Finish it.”

Jiwon’s fingers trembled as they hovered over the waistband of his slacks, her breath shallow and uneven. His gaze never wavered, a silent dare burning in his eyes as she fumbled with the zipper, the sound obscenely loud in the charged silence. When she finally tugged his pants and underwear down just enough to free his length, her throat went dry. He was thick, already fully hard, and the sight sent a jolt of heat straight to her core.

She hesitated, her palm hovering inches away, until his voice cut through the tension—low, edged with impatience. “Don’t stop now.”

Her first touch was tentative, her fingers wrapping around him with unsure pressure. A sharp inhale escaped him, his jaw clenching, and she froze. But when his hand slid into her hair, not pushing, just anchoring, she took it as permission. Slowly, she began to stroke him, her movements awkward at first, her thumb brushing clumsily over the head.

His reaction was immediate—a low groan, his hips jerking faintly upward into her grip. Emboldened, she tightened her fingers, finding a rhythm that made his breath hitch. She chanced a glance at his face and nearly faltered at what she saw: his head tilted back against the seat, eyes half-lidded but blazing, lips parted as ragged breaths slipped free.

He’s letting go. The realization sent a thrill through her, her own arousal spiking as she watched him unravel. Her strokes grew bolder, her free hand braced against his thigh for balance, her thumb swiping over the slickness beading at his tip.

“Jiwon.” Her name was a growl, a warning and a plea.

She didn’t stop. Instead, she leaned closer, her breath ghosting over his skin as her lips brushed the hollow of his throat. His hand tightened in her hair, yanking her head back just enough to force her to meet his gaze.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his voice fraying at the edges.

She obeyed, her strokes slowing as she watched him—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when she twisted her wrist, the muscle fluttering in his jaw as he fought to keep still. A dark, unfamiliar pride bloomed in her chest. She did this. She reduced him to this—a man of calculated control, now gripping the steering wheel like it might snap under his restraint.

Her own need coiled tighter, her thighs pressing together as she worked him faster, spurred on by the raw hunger in his eyes. She could feel him thickening in her hand, his hips rolling upward to meet her strokes, his breath coming in sharp, fractured bursts.

“That’s it,” he rasped, his free hand sliding down to grip her wrist, not to stop her, but to guide her, his thumb pressing over hers to adjust her rhythm. “Just like that.”

The praise ignited something reckless in her. She leaned in again, her lips grazing his ear. “Do you… like this?” she whispered, the question trembling with a boldness she didn’t recognize.

His laugh was a dark, shattered sound. “You’ll know when I do.”

Your voice cuts through the charged air, rough and strained, and Jiwon freezes. Her wide, innocent eyes blink up at you, her lips parted in that soft, questioning way that makes something dark coil tighter in your gut. You watch the confusion flicker across her face—unsure, hesitant—but she obeys.

“Move”

~~~

Slowly, cautiously, she shifts, her touch lingering a moment too long before she pulls her hand away. The absence of her warmth makes your jaw clench, your control hanging by a thread. She’s always so careful, so sweet, and it drives you fucking insane.

You guide her, hands firm on her waist, positioning her until she’s straddling you. Her knees press into the seat on either side of your thighs, her trembling fingers finding tentative purchase on your shoulders. Her breathing is unsteady, shallow, her cheeks flushed pink under the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the windshield.

“Like this?” she whispers, voice uncertain, a quiet vulnerability lacing her tone.

Your hands tighten on her hips, grounding yourself in the softness of her curves, in the way she feels so small beneath your touch. “Yeah,” you rasp, letting your thumbs stroke slow, lazy circles into her skin. “Just like that.”

You can feel the tension in her muscles, the way she holds herself so carefully, afraid of doing something wrong. But you don’t want careful. You don’t want hesitant.

You want her.

With a slow, deliberate pull, you drag her down, pressing her against the hard, aching length of you. Her breath hitches sharply, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she feels just how much you want this—how much you need her.

“You feel that?” you murmur, voice low, dangerous against the shell of her ear. “This is what you do to me, Jiwon.”

She swallows hard, her body trembling slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she shifts, pressing down tentatively, testing the friction, the heat, and fuck, you feel it in your bones.

“Good girl,” you breathe, the words slipping past your lips before you can stop them, and the way she reacts—the way she melts against you—makes your blood run hotter.

Her fingers clutch at your shirt, unsure, unsteady, and you can’t help the way your hands slide up her sides, over her ribs, until you’re cupping her face, forcing her to look at you. “You wanted to help me, don’t you?”

She nods without hesitation, her lips parting in a breathless, “Yes.”

That one word sends something primal surging through you, and your grip tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who’s in control.

“Then move for me,” you say, the command firm, unrelenting.

Jiwon hesitates for the barest second before she obeys, shifting in your lap, rocking against you with shy, uncertain motions that drive you fucking wild. She’s so soft, so eager, and the way she bites down on her lip, trying to hold back those sweet little noises, makes your restraint slip another inch.

“That’s it,” you murmur, one hand slipping down to guide her, helping her find the right rhythm. “Just like that, baby.”

Her breathing stutters, and she clings to you tighter, her forehead resting against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “I— I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admits in a whisper, and the innocence in her voice nearly undoes you.

You smirk, your hands roaming lower, gripping her ass, pulling her closer, grinding her against you until she gasps. “You’re learning,” you murmur, lips brushing against her temple. “And you’re doing so fucking good.”

She shivers, pressing closer, and you can feel the heat pooling between her thighs, the dampness seeping through the thin fabric of her underwear. It takes everything in you not to rip it off, not to flip her over and take everything she’s offering. But you hold back. Barely.

Instead, you let her explore, let her take what she needs. You can feel her pulse racing, feel the anticipation thrumming between you both like a live wire.

“Keep going,” you urge, your hands steady on her hips, guiding, controlling. “I want to feel you.”

And she does. Slowly at first, then with more confidence, grinding against you in slow, teasing rolls that make your grip tighten, your breath grow ragged. She’s needy, desperate in a way she doesn’t quite understand yet, but you do. And you’ll teach her.

You lean in, dragging your lips down the side of her throat, feeling the way she shivers beneath you. “You like this, don’t you?” you whisper, your tongue flicking against the sensitive spot just below her ear. “You like how I feel against you.”

She nods frantically, pressing harder, her soft whimpers filling the small space of the car.

You chuckle darkly, the sound vibrating against her skin. “That’s my girl.”

Her fingers tighten in your hair, and she’s moving faster now, desperate, lost in it, in you. Your grip on her hips turns bruising, guiding her harder, deeper, until the friction becomes unbearable.

“Jiwon,” you groan, your forehead resting against hers, sweat beading at your temples. “You’re gonna drive me fucking crazy.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her lips grazing yours, hesitant, teasing. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You grin against her mouth, your hands slipping beneath her dress, fingers teasing along the edge of her panties. “Yeah,” you murmur. “It is.”

Then, without warning, you flip her onto her back against the seat, pinning her beneath you, your weight pressing down until there’s nowhere for her to go—nowhere for her to hide.

Her eyes widen, lips parting in a soft gasp, but there’s no fear. Only trust.

And that’s all the permission you need.

You press her down into the seat, your weight settling over her like a promise. Jiwon's breath comes in soft, shaky pants, her eyes wide, searching yours, but you see it—the need, the anticipation trembling just beneath the surface of her innocence. You slide your hands under her dress, bunching the fabric up to her waist, revealing the soft curves of her thighs, the damp heat pressing against you through the thin scrap of lace she calls underwear.

"You're already soaked," you murmur, dragging a finger along the slickness pooling between her thighs, feeling her shudder. "How long have you been waiting for this, Jiwon?"

She turns her face to the side, cheeks flushed, biting her lip in that way that drives you insane. "I... I don't know," she whispers, but the way she shifts beneath you, pressing up into your touch, tells a different story.

"Liar," you smirk, pushing her panties aside, letting the heat of her bare skin sear into your palm. You slide a finger inside her without warning, feeling her clench around you, tight, warm, perfect. Her sharp intake of breath is loud—too loud.

Your hand clamps over her mouth instantly, fingers digging into her jaw. "Quiet," you warn, your voice low, dark. "Do you want someone to hear us?"

She shakes her head frantically, her wide eyes meeting yours, but you don't miss the way her thighs tighten around your hand, the way her walls flutter around your fingers like she’s excited by the risk.

You chuckle softly, a dark, knowing sound, and you lean in, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "You like it, don't you?" you whisper, curling your fingers inside her, teasing that spot that makes her squirm. "The thought of someone catching you like this... spread open, taking my fingers, my cock."

She whimpers against your palm, her hips rocking helplessly against your hand. You remove your hand from her mouth, trailing it down her body, savoring the way she trembles beneath you.

"I— I don't..." she tries to deny it, but the words come out shaky, uncertain. You drag your cock along her slit, coating yourself in her slickness, and her breath catches. "Please..."

"Please what, Jiwon?" you murmur, pressing against her entrance, teasing, not giving her what she wants just yet.

She swallows hard, her hands clutching at your shoulders. "Please... don't tease me," she whispers, voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and something she doesn't quite understand yet.

You smirk, pushing inside her in one slow, relentless thrust, watching her eyes widen, her lips parting on a silent cry. She's so tight, so wet, and you groan, feeling her squeeze around you like she's trying to keep you inside forever.

"God, you're gripping me so tight," you growl, your hands sliding down to her hips, holding her still. "You're lucky it's me and not someone else, Jiwon. Someone who wouldn't be so careful with you."

Her nails dig into your back, her walls fluttering around you in response, and you feel it—that dark thrill, the way her body reacts before her mind can catch up.

Then—headlights.

A sudden beam sweeps through the windshield, cutting across Jiwon's flushed skin, illuminating the scene in stark, undeniable clarity. She freezes beneath you, her body going stiff, and for a moment, neither of you move, the tension thick, suffocating.

But then—then.

You feel it.

Her walls clamp down on you, a strangled moan slipping from her lips before she can stop it. The realization hits you hard, a wicked grin curling at your lips as you lean down, your breath hot against her ear.

"You like this," you whisper, rolling your hips slowly, deliberately, dragging a ragged gasp from her throat. "The idea of being seen... being watched."

"I—" She shakes her head, but her nails scrape against your skin, and her hips move on their own, rocking against you.

"Liar," you murmur again, biting down gently on her neck, feeling the way she squirms beneath you. "Look at you, clenching around me so tight. Are you dripping because you're scared, or because you want them to see what a good little wife you are?"

She whimpers, her face turning away in shame, but you catch her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "Tell me, Jiwon," you demand, thrusting deep, slow, pulling another gasp from her. "Would you let them watch? Let them see how I ruin you?"

She shakes her head frantically, but the way her body tightens, the way her thighs tremble against yours, tells you the truth.

"You would," you chuckle darkly, dragging your cock out slowly before slamming back in, making her arch under you. "You'd let them see how desperate you are for me."

"Stop," she pleads, but there's no real conviction in her voice, just raw, trembling need.

You lean down, your lips brushing hers. "Make me," you challenge, your thrusts growing rougher, deeper, filling her completely.

She doesn't. She can't. She's lost in it now, lost in you, her legs wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you deeper, harder.

"You feel so good," you groan, dragging a hand up her body to cup her breast, teasing the sensitive peak. "You were made for this, Jiwon. Made for me."

Her whimpers grow louder, her grip desperate, and you clamp a hand over her mouth again. "Shh," you murmur, your pace relentless. "Unless you want them to hear you."

She moans against your palm, her body trembling violently beneath you, and you feel it—she's close, right on the edge, teetering.

"Come for me," you rasp, thrusting hard, deep, hitting that spot that makes her eyes roll back. "Show me how much you love this."

Her body tenses, and with a muffled cry, she shatters around you, her walls gripping you like a vice, pulling you deeper into her heat. The tight squeeze, the raw desperation, it's too much—your own release hits you like a freight train, a guttural groan ripping from your throat as you spill inside her, holding her close, buried deep.

For a moment, neither of you move, the only sound filling the car is your ragged breathing, the creak of the leather seat beneath you, and the distant hum of the city.

Jiwon slumps against you, trembling, her body still pulsing around you in the aftershocks. Your hands stay firm on her hips, grounding her, keeping her in place.

"You'll regret this tomorrow," you whisper against her damp skin, smirking when she doesn't respond, just clings to you tighter.

For a moment, you let yourself enjoy it—the way she fits against you, the way she’s still trying to catch her breath. But then your eyes flicker to the dashboard, and a low curse slips from your lips.

“Shit.”

Jiwon stirs slightly, dazed and blissed out. “Hmm?”

You run a hand down your face, frustration simmering beneath the lingering heat of your release. “The dinner. Your parents.”

Her entire body stiffens against you, her eyes snapping open in alarm. “Oh my God.”

You grin darkly, smoothing your hands over her hips. “Yeah. We’re very late.”

The drive to the dinner is quiet, the hum of the engine a dull counterpoint to the chaos in your head. You keep your eyes on the road, grip tight on the steering wheel, but you feel her. Always her.

Jiwon sits beside you, radiating a warmth that’s annoying in its persistence. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch it—the flush on her cheeks, the way her fingers trace idle patterns on her thigh, the faint, stupid smile she’s trying to hide. It makes your jaw clench. She’s glowing, soft and satisfied, like she’s just been given something precious instead of fucked raw in a parking lot.

Pathetic.

But then her hand drifts toward yours, tentative, brushing your knuckles. You stiffen. “What?” you snap, sharper than intended.

She flinches, but doesn’t retreat. “Can I… hold your hand?”

The question is so absurd, so ordinary, you nearly laugh. But her eyes—wide, hopeful, still hazy with whatever delusion she’s spinning—stop you. You should refuse. Should remind her this isn’t a romance. But the memory of her body clenching around you, desperate and yours, lingers like a brand.

“Fine,” you mutter, relenting. “If you need to cling.”

Her fingers slip into yours, soft and trusting, and you hate how your pulse jumps. You tell yourself it’s a reward. A leash. Let her have this small comfort, if it keeps her pliant for what’s coming.

She squeezes gently, and you squeeze back—harder, a warning. Mine.

“Thank you,” she whispers, leaning her head against the window, that damned smile still playing on her lips.

You don’t answer. Instead, you focus on the road, on the cold calculus of the dinner ahead. Let her dream. Let her think this changes anything.

As the car rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant, Jiwon exhaled shakily, her fingers still entwined with his. The steady warmth of his hand had been her anchor throughout the drive, grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. But as the valet opened her door, reality crashed back in, sharp and unforgiving. She pulled her hand away instinctively, smoothing the fabric of her dress in a futile attempt to steady herself.

But when you pull up to the restaurant, her hand still in yours, you don’t let go. Not yet.

~~~

Stepping out, the towering entrance of the restaurant loomed before her, an imposing reminder of what awaited inside. The mere thought of facing her father—her stepmother—sent an uneasy twist through her stomach.

She lingered by the car, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. He noticed.

With a quiet sigh, he reached out, his palm open in silent reassurance.

“Jiwon,” he murmured, his voice calm and steady. “Come here.”

Her eyes flickered to his hand, uncertainty clouding her expression. “I—”

“You’ll be fine.” His tone softened, but there was an undeniable firmness beneath it. “I’m right here.”

After a beat, she swallowed hard and placed her hand back in his. His fingers curled around hers, firm and unwavering, and the tension coiled in her chest loosened—just a little.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, leading her forward with the quiet confidence she envied. “Just stay close to me,” he said smoothly, as if his presence alone could shield her from everything that lay ahead.

Jiwon nodded, clutching his hand tighter as they stepped through the grand entrance. Inside, the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses faded into the background, overshadowed by the looming confrontation she could feel brewing.

The hostess greeted them with a polite nod before guiding them toward the private dining room. As the door swung open, Jiwon’s heart faltered.

The room was elegant, the chandelier above casting a warm glow over the meticulously arranged table. His grandmother sat at the head, a pillar of quiet authority. At the sight of them entering together, her lips curved ever so slightly, a flicker of intrigue crossing her face.

Her father and stepmother, however, were not so welcoming.

Jiwon’s father’s expression shifted—shock flickering across his usually impassive features before his gaze hardened into something sharper, more calculating. Her stepmother, ever composed, maintained a careful smile, but Jiwon didn’t miss the way her fingers tensed against the table’s edge.

They hadn’t expected her to come. More importantly, they hadn’t expected for her to come with him.

A fleeting sense of satisfaction sparked in her chest, only to be replaced by the crushing weight of their stares.

Jiwon’s grip on his hand faltered, uncertainty creeping in. Had this been a mistake?

As they stepped further inside, the atmosphere thickened with unspoken expectations. Conversations stilled, glasses set down mid-motion.

Jiwon forced a nervous smile, holding onto him like a lifeline. “Ah, um…” she started, her voice catching in her throat. “Father, Mother, I—” She glanced toward him, as if drawing strength. “This is—”

And then it happened.

The shift.

His demeanor changed in an instant. The warmth that had reassured her moments ago disappeared, replaced by a cold, unrelenting presence.

His gaze fixed on her stepmother with a sharp, unwavering intensity, and the sudden chill in the air made Jiwon’s pulse stutter. The hand that had held hers so gently now felt like a distant memory.

Without thinking, she withdrew her fingers, instinctively retreating from the invisible force radiating from him.

Her throat tightened as she stole a glance at him. Gone was the composed man who had whispered reassurances in the car; in his place stood someone far colder, far more dangerous.

Her father’s voice sliced through the silence. “You’re late.”

Jiwon stiffened at the weight of his disapproval, but beside her, he remained unmoved, his gaze locked on her stepmother with a simmering fury that made her insides twist.

He didn’t need to say a word—his presence alone sent a message clear enough.

Jiwon swallowed, suddenly feeling like an outsider in her own family’s presence.

Maybe… maybe she shouldn’t have come.

a/n: part 3 coming...

[channiesbakery]

frat party —

prompt / request — threesome with wonwoo & dino

pairing — frat boy!dino + reader + fwb frat boy!wonwoo

word count — 808

genre — smut [threesome, oral (f receiving)]

the end of the semester meant parties all weekend long before everyone went back home for break.

after all the studying you’d done for finals, you were ready for a break and to relax. so when wonwoo, the guy you’d been hooking up with for a couple months now, asked you to come to the party his frat was throwing, you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

you and wonwoo had both been busy with your own studies, so you’d been pretty pent up after not seeing him for a couple weeks.

you show up to the frat house wearing wonwoo’s favorite dress. you look around the party for your fuck buddy but don’t find him anywhere.

“lost?” you hear a voice behind you, turning to see chan, one of wonwoo’s frat brothers. “just looking for wonwoo, have you seen him?” you ask.

“last I saw him, he was bickering with soonyoung over how much more liquor they needed to buy,” chan explains, leading you into the kitchen where the makeshift bar was set up.

when wonwoo finally sees your text telling him you were at the party, he looks around the house for you.

he finds you sitting with chan, chatting away as you sip on a drink. “about time. your girl was getting lonely. thought I might’ve had to take care of her tonight,” chan teases with a smirk.

“not his girl,” you correct. “but I wouldn’t mind taking you up on that offer,” you say, the alcohol making you bolder.

“maybe I will. let me get us more drinks,” chan says, stepping away for a moment as wonwoo sat down beside you.

“so, channie keep you company?” wonwoo whispers. “mhm. he’s cute,” you hum and he just chuckles against your ear.

“and what about me? I’m not cute?” he teases. “you are. he’s just… different,” you shrug. “in the mood for something different tonight?” wonwoo asks but before you could reply, chan comes back with three shot glasses.

“tequila shots!” he exclaims excitedly, handing one to you and wonwoo.

one shot turns into two which eventually turned into about five and next thing you know, the three of you end up in wonwoo’s bedroom.

your head lulls back against wonwoo’s shoulder as both of them attacked your neck with kisses.

“gonna be good for us tonight? be our good girl?” chan mumbled against your skin, sucking soft hickeys onto your neck.

“you can show channie what a good girl you are right? you’re always so good for me,” wonwoo purrs. “y-yeah. I’ll be good,” you whimper as they pull you over to the bed.

wonwoo sits against the headboard, pulling you to lay between his legs, your back against his chest while chan settled between your legs.

“gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” chan asks, kissing up your inner thighs as he pushed your skirt up. “please,” you sigh, wonwoo’s hands moving to cup your chest, squeezing your tits over your top.

“sound so pretty when you say please,” chan hums. “should hear her when she’s begging to cum,” wonwoo chuckles, watching as his friend tugged your panties off.

“hm, should I tease then? get her all needy?” chan asks, making you whine at that. “I think pretty girl’s a bit too pent up for teasing tonight, aren’t you?” wonwoo asks, tilting your face so you looked up at him.

he kisses you deeply as chan started to eat you out. you moan into wonwoo’s mouth as chan’s tongue slides inside you.

“yeah? channie’s tongue feels good?” wonwoo asks. “uh huh,” you whimper. “better than me?” wonwoo teases. “not fair,” you whine, tugging on chan’s hair.

“she just doesn’t wanna hurt your feelings,” chan smirks. “you’re both good,” you whine, just wanting chan’s mouth back on you.

he slides his fingers into you, his thumb rubbing your clit while wonwoo pulled your top down to expose your tits.

“look so pretty for us,” wonwoo mumbled against your ear as you squirmed against him. “sound so cute whining for us too,” chan adds, bringing his tongue back down, focusing his attention on your clit.

“and fuck you taste so good,” he moans against you. “she’s making a mess too,” wonwoo smirks, watching the way your eyes glaze over in pleasure.

he squeezes your nipples lightly to elicit a moan from you. “c’mon baby, I know you’re close. cum on channie’s tongue. let him see how pretty you are when you cum,” he says.

“can feel your pussy squeezing my fingers, pretty girl. cum for me,” chan encourages.

your back arches against wonwoo’s chest as you ride out your orgasm on chan’s tongue. chan crawls back up to you, pressing his lips against yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“catch your breath, baby. because we’re far from done with you tonight,” wonwoo whispers in your ear.

[banditcoyote]

"I'll have it done for you." he said with a little nod, and closed the book he had been reading when she came in. Coyote reached to take her hand, giving her a reassuring squeeze. Then he looked back to Echo. "No mating...." he said prepared to give a list. "Thats a hard line for me." "Of course." Echo said, his expression difficult to read, slipping back into his pokerface he so readily wore. "And I don't think there should be any talk of marriage....for a while at least...Sasuga and I haven't even had our real wedding yet. I think we deserve to have that, and to figure out what our life looks like in the next few years. We want children, to build a family. I think any talk of marriage has to go through me, if either of you start to feel strongly about it....okay?" he said turning his gaze to Sasuga, hoping this sat well with her, knowing that she often fell so hard in the beginning he hoped this wasn't any type of blow for her. He turned back to Echo "And we've already discussed it, but try not to take so much blood from her that she becomes anemic....I need to be able to trust you Echo." "Of course." The bat said again, hands folded in front of him.

Blood and Moonlight

Sasuga woke in what was at first an unfamiliar area but as she blinked fully awake she realized it was their closet that Coyote had decorated for them. She smiled and took a careful kiss from her mate who was still sound asleep next to her. It really had been an amazing night with the family and then with her husband. As she slipped from his arms, she took a moment to look at her reflection in the mirror, her fingers dancing over the fresh marks on her neck and hips. She couldn't have asked for anything more from the night and it was with some reluctance that she dressed. She picked out a pair of warm leggings and a short little skirt to pull over them with some knee high boots and a thick sweater. She slipped from the closet and moved to the bathroom to comb her hair and brush her teeth and get ready for the big day ahead. She gave a stretch and headed downstairs only to find a familiar face waiting for her. "Raphael..." she smiled and moved to greet him with a hug. "I see you are still alive." she smirked. "Want some tea? Coffee?"

@banditcoyote

[imsofreakingtired]

After a brutal fight, you scream at Sevika, accusing her of caring more about Silco than she ever did about you, and she agrees and calls you a distraction.

when you leave she regrets it but she’s to late

my god i love that. thanks for the prompt!

the cut that always bleeds

content warning(s): wives fighting 😔

"i don't love you anymore, a pretty line that i adore five words that i've heard before 'cause you keep me on a rope and tied a noose around my throat you're gone, then back at my door"

~~~

It had finally happened.

You’re sure of it, and it makes you go cold all over.

Your head is heavy from lack of sleep, but you can’t even stand the thought of lying down. Your heart’s pounding something awful in your chest, as if you’re waiting for the knock that would come any second, bringing the brutal news that you had lost your wife for good.

Sevika had promised you there was no external business tonight. She had promised that she would come directly home after the Chem-baron assembly, she had given her solemn word.

So either she was really dead, or—

The door swings open, hard, so that a thin rain of plaster and dust showers onto the floor. You see Sevika’s tall figure in the doorway.

You stand up.

“Shit,” Sevika mutters. “You spooked me. Why aren’t you asleep?”

Your voice is dangerously low. “Where have you been?”

Sighing heavily, Sevika takes off her cloak and throws it carelessly over the chair. “Silco needed me to take care of some loons trying to steal supplies near the harbor.” Without meeting your eye, she goes to the icebox and takes out a bottle of beer. “Then there was a misunderstanding with some fool merchant about a shipment for Topside—”

“Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been?”

Sevika looks at you over the bottle. “What?”

“What,” you echo. “Very nice. What. Because you can run around all day, all night at Silco’s beck and call without a care in the world, and I can just sit here worrying myself sick, right?”

“Baby, don’t start. I’m not in the mood.”

“Don’t baby me.” You slam your fist against the table, causing the empty glasses to jump.

Sevika just looks at you. Her cool silence makes you angrier than any insult could have done.

“I must mean nothing to you, don’t I?” You yell. “Is it too much to fucking ask that you send a message in advance, telling me you’ll be late?”

Sevika tips the bottle back, draining the whole thing in one sip. Then she calmly set it down on the table.

“You think I like sitting up here alone until the fucking morning, not knowing whether you’re alive or dead? If I matter less to you than a fuckin’ object, what are you keeping me around for? You might as well save us both the trouble and stop off at Babette’s every night after work.”

“You’re right, maybe I should.”

A deathlike silence falls.

You stare at her, shaking slightly, as her words sink through the air between you like stones in deep water.

Sevika must have seen the way your face changed, the shock in your eyes, and she must have realized the weight of what she just said, because she tries to backtrack. But the damage is done.

“This isn’t a relationship,” you say quietly. “The relationship you’re in, the one you’re fucking devoted to, is with that man in the office above the Last Drop. Just say so.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Fuck you!” You scream.

Sevika stands quickly, her eyes stony with anger. “What did you expect, then?” she says harshly. “Tell me. What’d you expect—honeymooning around the riverside, flying off to Noxus, for Janna’s sake? We’re at the brink of war.”

“Is that what you think? What am I, your fucking toy bride?”

“You’re not a toy,” she snaps. “You’re a distraction.”

A moment passes before you repeat, “a distraction.”

She glares at you. “Silco was right,” she says. “This whole thing—you—it was all just holding me back.”

The slap rings through the empty room.

Sevika stands unmoving, like she’s carved from stone. You watch her, eyes burning, palm stinging, waiting for a reaction, waiting for her to hit you back, yell at you, curse you out—anything. Anything to show that she felt something.

But she doesn’t say a word.

You shake your head, slowly. “You’re a jackass.”

Still no answer.

You turn on your heel and storm into the bedroom you shared with Sevika. You rip your few spare pieces of clothing off the hooks on the walls and roll them violently into a bundle, then stride back into the front room and yank open the door. Sevika is still standing in the same place, staring at the floor as if holding a silent argument with the floorboards.

Before you leave, you turn and say, “Sevika.”

She looks at you.

“You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me.”

The door slams behind you.

~~~

Sevika listens to the dust settle. She stands in the dark room, feeling strange and vaguely angry. Suddenly she lets out a yell and grabs the empty beer bottle and hurls it against the wall. It shatters upon impact, the shards dancing across the floor.

Sevika stands, unsteady on her feet, swaying slightly. She grabs the back of a chair, ready to break it as well, then changes her mind and goes to take out another bottle of liquor.

Soon the world is comfortably fuzzy and nothing was ever real, your voice fades pleasantly into the back of her head like the thin buzz of electricity...

~~~

Sevika wakes up among glass shards and splintered wood. Her head throbs like it’s ready to split open. She sits up with a groan, blinking in the daylight seeping through the small window. What time was it? Why was she sleeping on the floor? Why hadn’t you woken her up?

There had been this strange, funny dream she had…this dream where you were real mad at her…she should tell you.

Then she sees the open door of the bedroom, and the empty bed beyond it. Then she remembers—the fight, your anger, the sharp sting of your hand against her cheek. “No,” she mumbles to herself. She gets to her feet clumsily, staggering. “No.”

Stupidly she goes into the bedroom, as if you might be hiding somewhere in the corner or beneath the bed. She sees the empty hooks on the wall. She walks back out and opens the front door, looking up and down the apartment hall. She calls out your name in a hoarse voice.

But you’re not there.

[ivy-elle]

Tainted Hearts

The door isn’t locked when he knocks. As if you’ve been expecting him.  

Scaramouche scoffs and a muttered “Idiot” falls from his lips at your lack of safety and self-preservation. He pushes the door open, eyebrow rising as he looks inside. “Y/n?”

When he doesn’t spot you right away, he takes a slow step inside your apartment, using the heel of his shoe to shut the door back close. His hand wanders into the pockets of his pants, while he takes in your apartment.

“Y/n!” He calls again, his eyes sweeping slowly around the interior. This is the first time he’s in here. And it’s definitely more chaotic than he’d imagined. The clothes littered on the floor fit the aesthetic of the room as much as your desk. His eyes fall on the half-empty coffee cup, still adorned by your lipstick stain, but now the dark liquid is surrounding it on the surface. Just as he’s about to step closer, his fingers itching somehow, your voice calls from the adjacent room.

“In the bathroom!”

Scaramouche scorns, turning in your direction. “You’re still not done?” And while he’s irritated, his voice comes out less harsh than expected.

He clears his throat.

“I’ve spilt some bloody coffee on my clothes and had to change,” you reply, sounding more frustrated than he feels himself. “And I thought I told you, to come by later anyway. Now you have to suffer your own consequences.”

“Is that why you left the doors unlocked? I knew you to be foolish and yet, I’m surprised.”

“It’s because your impatient ass always arrives way too early.”

Scaramouche crosses his arms, while his eyes take in the rest of your room. “And what, precisely is it, that’s taking you so long? We’ll be late.”

“The outfit I ruined was perfect and now nothing else feels right anymore.”

Scaramouche lifts some figurine from the shelf, absentmindedly spinning it in his hand. “Who cares what you look like? It’s not a wedding.” Despite his words, he’s yet to see you in an unbefitting outfit. Almost immediately he banishes the thought into the back of his mind. “Just pick whatever.”

A dry laugh, then - “We’re still going out for dinner, it doesn’t matter if it’s just our friends.”

Friends? Scaramouche hums lowly. “Most of them are barely tolerable. At best.”

When he finally hears the door opening, he sets the figurine back and turns to you. To his utter embarrassment (as well as frustration) he feels his breath falter for a second.

But you don’t seem to take notice.

“Is your car close by?” you ask instead while swiftly grabbing some stuff and putting it into your bag.

Scaramouche gathers himself, his frown deepening. “You should finally get yourself a car. I’m not your personal taxi driver.”

The intended irritation in his voice subsides more into absentmindedness as his eyes drift along your outfit and take in the way it looks on you.

“Scara?”

He directs his eyes back up and meets yours. “What?” he huffs, feeling somehow caught.

“I asked if you think this might be too much?” Your eyes sweep down your body. “Maybe I should wear the other blouse.”

The way you tug on your clothes, the way you suddenly avoid his eyes causes his fingers to twitch once more. He hides them in the pockets of his pants.

His answer, when it comes, is blunt. “No.”

 “No?”

“Basic is boring. You’re good.”

You meet his eyes. He turns halfway towards the door, straightening his collar. “Now can we leave? Or your taxi driver might demand remuneration.”

Your lips twitch amused but you comply nonetheless and follow him out of your apartment. “Have I ever mentioned how impatient you are?”

“You better consider yourself lucky someone cares about your public presentation.”

“Oh, so very lucky, indeed.”

“Is that sarcasm I’m detecting?”

“I would never.”

When you leave, Scaramouche makes sure the door is locked properly this time.