#fanfiction films

[yangsbandana]

so the 'elphaba's promise' deleted scene went like this right

[ervotica]

hot rod — a.donaldson & p.zweig

pairings; art donaldson x fem!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x patrick zweig

summary; patrick comes to visit you and art at college. he finds college life is a lot more adventurous than once anticipated

warnings; mdni, 18+ only, SMUT, threesome, overstim, oral (m receiving), sub leaning!reader and art, more dom leaning!patrick, established throuple, polyamory

a/n; i’m not so sure how i feel about this tbh. i love the dynamic though so i pushed through even when it got away from me a little🥲 there will be another drabble for older!art and his pretty girl soon!!

you and art fuck until you’re brain dead and passed out from exhaustion. always have. neither of you possess an off switch, and when patrick’s not there to rein the pair of you in, things get a little… messy.

his cum is dried in your hair, the sticky substance smeared across your cheek, his knuckles still wet with slick.

patrick walks in, full belly laughs and peels you from art’s sweat soaked form, gives your cheek a pinch when you stir and whine.

he doesn’t clean you up because he likes to leave you naked whenever he has the opportunity — which is more often than not. seriously, you two need close supervision.

he just carries you with him to that shitty little armchair in art’s dorm, the room still stinking of sex and the humid summer air clinging to your skin; art shines with perspiration where he’s face down on the bed.

pat makes do with the lack of room, hooking a bare leg over the backs of your thighs until you’re squeezed snugly against his torso, face smushed to his chest. you’re snoring, and it makes patrick smile, slumping down in his chair to rest his lips against your cheekbone.

you wake slowly, eyes sticky and crusted over with exhaustion. your face is almost nestled beneath patrick’s armpit where you’ve been writhing in slumber and you grumble at the scent of sweat, layered with cheap aftershave. his hard-on presses to the center of your stomach and you can feel everything— the curve it makes now it’s hard and weeping, the feel of the spongy head, the vein that runs through the middle.

“you smell, pat,” you grumble, reaching up blindly to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth and take a long pull from the stick.

“yeah, well you’re not so hot yourself, babe. the whole room reeks.” he reaches down to tug on a loose strand of hair at the crown of your head. “there’s cum in your hair.”

“not my fault.” you stretch upward like a cat, curling into patrick’s chest. “where’s art gone?”

“still sleeping, baby.” he lights another cigarette, sacrificing the first one to you - still resting between your lips - and the clicking of the lighter draws your head upward to gaze through heavy lashes at him.

“come to bed,” you murmur, kissing his knuckles. your free hand coasts a long line across his jaw and you dig your thumb beneath his ear, giggling when he scrunches his features and relents, and pushes you to stand with a swat to your naked backside.

art curls into you instinctively when you roll onto the mattress, your hand threading through the curls atop his head. you scrub sweeping circles across his bare back and he hums a pleased sound, smearing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. patrick splays himself over the pair of you, all long limbs that sit askew to cover as much of your naked frames as possible.

art squints through the yellow light that illuminates the room, bright and artificial on his sensitive eyes. your movements against him don’t halt, a slow, rhythmic, loving sweep of your hands that he’s come to look forward to in moments like this. his jaw tilts upward as he mouths at your neck like a starved man, like you haven’t just gone five rounds and collapsed from overstimulation.

“you two need supervision,” patrick snorts. you quirk a bemused brow. “i’m serious, look at what you’ve done to each other! you look like you’ve been mauled.”

“jealous, much?” art mumbles sleepily, the sound muffled through your skin. you’re laughing and it splits your expression in two, eyes crinkled with amusement as the strawberry blonde boy snipes at patrick.

“should’a come to college with us, pretty boy,” you giggle. “could’a had this twenty four seven.” you dip your head until your brow presses to art’s. “poor pat, with no one to stick his dick in. how will he ever cope?”

“you could help me out, sweets,” he deadpans, the nickname saccharine and sour on his tongue all at once. art watches you through heavy lids. you huff, biting playfully at art’s lip before you tilt your head to face patrick,

“okay,” you chirrup. art’s quick to sit up, separating from your warmth in favour of nuzzling against patrick. patrick tips his chin down, slanting his lips against the blonde boy’s.

meanwhile, you’re working his cock through his shorts, palming the muscle until it chubs up beneath your hand, drooling a wet patch through the fabric. patrick groans, hips rolling up into your touch when you hook your fingers beneath his waistband and tug his cock free.

he moans into art’s mouth and your mouth goes dry at the sight. you’ve always loved to watch them like this, the way they get lost in each other, the way they start fervently pushing into one another’s space until patrick inevitably makes the first move and sticks his tongue down art’s throat.

patrick turns to putty beneath art’s roaming touch, huge paws that squeeze and grope and push at every inch of skin they come into contact with, not stopping even as you press your face to the seam of patrick’s balls, inhaling the sweat-soaked musk that creeps up your nostrils.

art’s hand snakes downward, flicking over pert nipples and ridges of muscle before he’s flicking a thumb over the weeping slit of his cock. patrick’s back bows into an arch as you lave your tongue over his sack, humming into the sensitive skin, full and heavy and begging for release. his hips rock upward into you as you seal your lips over him, eyes heavy with lust as art comes down to meet your mouth over his mushroom head.

it’s filthy and messy, downright pornographic as art licks over patrick’s cock, tongue pressing flat against the corner of your mouth and letting his spit pool there. you’re moaning - unable to help yourself - pressing your face forward to slant your lips over art’s fully. it’s all spit and drool as you lick into art’s mouth, the heady taste of the brunette boy still on your tongue, and then patrick’s bracing a hand against each of your heads and easing his cock through the seam where your spit slick mouths mesh.

you gasp and your damp lashes flutter, heavy with tears, and art’s tugging you frantically by your waist, pressing your bare chest to his own as patrick throws his head back and groans, shallow thrusts deepening. his breath stutters out in short, sharp bursts, chest heaving when your face slides down, down, down, all the way to the base of him until your pretty plump lips are wrapped around his sack.

you suck it into your mouth just as art takes patrick down his throat, the head of his cock bulging through the hollow of art’s throat as spit stretches and bows from the corners of his lips and lands in globs across your face.

you’re too drunk on the pleasure to care, the vibrations of your little sounds shooting right through patrick until you feel his balls tighten; he groans, long and loud, pushing closer to the pair of you as his cock pulses rhythmically and he releases down art’s throat.

you push your way through until your mouth is on art’s again, tongue licking into his mouth to taste patrick, wanting to be marked, claimed by both of them. his lips part, nose pressing to your cheek, and then he’s lifting you into his lap, his cock an angry red and pressed to the seam of your thigh.

patrick groans. there’s no fucking way he’s hard again.

“no more, you horndogs!”

[sapphire-writes]

Beyond The Play

college!Art x college!Reader

summary: Tashi needs some time alone with her man, which leaves you without a room for the night.

word count: 3.8k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: alcohol, fingering, dry humping, p in v sex with a condom, light praise, titty sucking, there's only one bed oh no!!

a/n: thanks for all the love on my first Challengers fic! hope you enjoy this one!

“You are so fucked,” Art says, taking another sip of his beer.

“Shut up.”

“He’s right,” Tashi agrees, sighing heavily, glancing at her cards.

You’re all sitting on the floor of your and Tashi’s dorm room, half-empty beer bottles littering the floor between you. You’d been playing poker for the past hour or so, swindling more of Patrick and Art’s money. It’d become a Friday night habit of yours, card games and beer with Patrick and Art. Patrick was always a maybe, he only came to visit his girlfriend a couple times a semester. 

But you, Art, and Tashi were always a solid trio. Tashi and Art had met through tennis of course, and you had met Art through Tashi after rooming with her freshman year of college. You’d become fast friends, and roommates for the next several years. You got along with Patrick well enough, you had to once he and Tashi started dating.

You could tell that had been a sore spot for Art, at least for a while. You’d suspected he’d had a thing for Tashi, and fire and ice hadn’t been the same since. You’d once asked Tashi about it and she’d only shrugged. Even though she was with Patrick for now, you knew Tashi had only one true love. 

Whatever Art felt for Tashi was easily molded into friendship, and the three of you became nearly inseparable. Which was good, even if you may or may not have developed some feelings of your own for the blond tennis player. 

But your friendship was more important. Those feelings could be pushed aside.

“God damn it,” Patrick curses, “I fold.”

Tashi snickers, revealing her cards and Patrick swears once more. 

“I need a smoke,” Patrick says, standing and leaning across Tashi’s bed to the open window.

“Oh no you don’t,” Tashi says, standing at lightning speed, “Outside, we are not getting in trouble for this.”

She grabs Patrick by the shirt collar, dragging him off the bed. He dramatically chokes, but lets her drag him towards the door.

“Art come on,” Patrick insists, reaching for his best friend.

“What? No, I wanna stay,” Art says, sandy hair falling in front of his eyes, “You don’t need a babysitter—”

“Yes I do,” Patrick insists, “C’mon five minutes, I swear.”

The boys tumble into the hall and you can hear their voices fading as they make their way outside. You stand from the floor, gathering up some beer bottles, and folding up the empty pizza box.

“Hey, d’you think you could sleep somewhere else tonight?” Tashi asks, brown eyes wide, “It’s Patrick’s last night, and y’know we really haven’t had any alone time.”

Your chest constricts at the thought. You totally get where she’s coming from but, it’s your room too. The thought of sleeping in the common area is less enticing. 

“Or at least just for a couple of hours,” Tashi backtracks, seeing your expression, “Just so we can—”

“Yeah, Tash it’s fine,” you tell her, swallowing your annoyance. Tashi’s been nothing but thoughtful and kind as a roommate, and friend. It’s an inconvenient favor, but nothing crazy. “I’ll get out of your hair for a couple of hours.”

“You’re the best,” she says, kissing your cheek, “Seriously, I owe you one.”

“You sure do,” you tell her, “I expect full payment for this.”

“Do you mean a trip to the movies with slurpees and popcorn?” Tashi asks, raising her eyebrows. 

“With extra butter,” you clarify and point at her, “You’re not cheaping out on me.”

“I’d never,” she insists, feigning seriousness before breaking into a grin. 

You finish helping Tashi clean up and begin your excommunication from your room. Walking down the hallway you bump into Patrick and Art on their way back from Patrick’s smoke break.

“What’re you doing out here? You start smoking?” Art asks as Patrick keeps walking past you, picking up the pace, “Hey where…”

“Party’s over,” you tell him, as Patrick turns the corner, eager to return to Tashi now that she’s alone.

Art frowns, confused.

“But we were—”

“Art,” you cut him off and place your hands on his shoulders, shaking him slightly, “Party’s over. Unless you’re eager to be a third.”

Art’s cheeks flush and he glances away, forcing out a laugh. Something tugs at your heart watching his half-smile appear. 

“Uh yeah ... .no thanks,” he says and you pat his shoulders before releasing them, “Wait but where are you going to go?”

You shrug, “I haven’t thought that far ahead.”

“You can’t just wander around campus, it’s like 2 am,” Art says, beckoning you with his hand, “Come back to my room, at least till they’re done.”

“Really?” you ask, “Cause if you’re tired I can just—”

“Don’t be silly,” Art says, poking your shoulder, “C’mon.”

Art’s room is in a separate building on campus, about a five-minute walk from you and Tashi’s building. Art is lucky enough to have a single; you’d been there a handful of times before class or practice. He keeps his room neat, aside from some clothes scattered on the floor from quick changes before practice. You smile as he hurriedly picks them up, throwing them into a hamper in his closet.

His bed is unmade, navy sheets messy as though he’d just woken up. 

“Sorry bout the mess,” he says, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

“I’m not judging, you’re cleaner than most guys I’ve met,” you tell him and he laughs. 

Suddenly, it hits you how late it is, sleepiness hitting you like a train as you yawn. This triggers Art’s yawn and the pair of you stand awkwardly in front of each other. 

“Um,” Art says suddenly, “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” you agree, stomach sinking, “I can just—”

“You should stay.”

You’re silent at that. You stare at him, as he nervously plays with the hem of his t-shirt, waiting for your reaction. You’re not sure what to say. It’s fine, right? Just a friend, helping out another friend.

A friend whom you have a big fat annoying crush on.

“I mean….it’s just late and you’re tired and who knows when they’ll be done.”

“I don’t have anything with me,” you tell him, voice sounding softer, meeker than you’d like.

“Oh, here I got you,” he says, walking to his dresser. He shuffles through the drawer a moment before revealing a shirt and clean boxers, “Just did laundry today. You can….you can change in the bathroom. I even have an extra toothbrush.”

You roll your eyes at that, taking the clothes from him. 

“Okay,” you agree.

“Bathroom’s right there.”

You nod, quickly making your way across the room and into the bathroom. You close the door and quickly change, finding Art’s spare toothbrush unopened in a goodie bag from the dentist shoved into a spare drawer. You quickly wash your face, brush your teeth, and change into his clothes. The shirt is baggy, with Stanford Men’s Tennis written across the front. It smells like him, like his detergent and his cologne and you can’t help but greedily inhale.

When you exit the bathroom, Art dips in, leaving the door open as he brushes his teeth. You place your clothes in a pile on his desk, awkwardly waiting for him. When he emerges, he’s wearing only his boxers and a gray t-shirt.

“I’ll take the floor,” Art says, his face turning beet red, “You can have the bed.”

“Art no,” you insist, “It’s your room. I’ll take the floor, it’s only fair—”

“Yeah that is not happening,” he says, satisfied smirk on his face, “Tashi’d kill me if she found out I made you sleep on the floor.”

“We could…..” you wet your lips, struggling to get the words out, “We could share the bed?”

Art watches you, his eyes wide. You watch his Adam’s apple bobs as he contemplates your question. Suddenly your pulse quickens, and embarrassment floods your body, and your face flushes. You turn away from him, scooting onto the bed.

“I mean only—”

“—if you’re comfortable,” Art finishes and you shut your mouth. You both giggle at the overlapping sentences.

“Yeah, I’m comfortable, Art,” you tell him, patting the space beside you, “Come on.”

Art moves onto the bed and you push closer to the wall. He’s so close when he lies down beside you, stretching his arm above your head. You’ve grown accustomed to the moonlit room and at this distance, you can almost count each eyelash that frames his blue eyes. 

“Is this okay?” he whispers, minty breath wafting over your face, making your head spin.

“Mhmm,” is all you can manage as the heat of his body warms you under the covers.

He’s silent then and you lay there for a moment, watching each other, listening to your shared breathing. Art chuckles then.

“What?”

“It’s just…” he trails off, “Nothing, it’s silly.”

“What is it?”

“You’re the first girl I’ve shared a bed with,” he admits, shyly glancing away from your gaze.

“Art Donaldson,” your tone is teasing, “I find that rather hard to believe.”

“It’s true,” he insists, brows furrowing together, “I mean….I’m not saying—wait” he wets his lips nervously, “I’m not a virgin—”

Your eyebrows raise, a smile curling at the corner of your lips. No, you did not doubt that. 

“Not that anything’s wrong with that, I just—wait and not to imply—”

“Art!” you cut him off, reaching forward and pressing your fingers against his lips, “I’m kidding. Don’t freak out.”

“M’not,” he mumbles, lips moving against your fingers.

“I’m fucking with you, Donaldson,” you whisper, taking your hand back, “I know you’re a gentleman.”

“Thank Christ,” he says with an exaggerated exhale causing you to giggle once more. He watches you, a smile on his face, eyes flickering to your lips.

Your face heats up as he wets his lips. Suddenly, nervousness flutters in your belly, and your heart flutters in your chest.

“Goodnight,” you tell him, turning away from him to face the wall.

You wait for his response, hoping he’s not disappointed. Disappointed about what, you’re not sure. 

“Goodnight,” he says softly and you close your eyes.

You wake up early. Birds are chirping outside the window, golden sunlight is beginning to bleed into the room, and Art’s chest is smushed firmly against your back. His arm is curled around your middle, hand splayed under your shirt and on your tummy, face buried in the crook of your neck. He’s so warm, his presence so comforting, you just want to close your eyes and melt back into him. 

Art groans in his sleep, moving his hips slightly and your eyes snap open.

Oh, Art.

He’s pressed firmly against your backside, rock-hard, hips unconsciously grinding against you. Your mouth falls open slightly feeling him against you, the hard outline of his cock bullying against your ass. Art groans again, hand on your stomach pushing you closer to him.

A breathy sigh escapes you and your head falls back against him slightly. 

“Art,” you breathe, answered with another groan, this one edging on a whimper. His hips gyrate, cock pressing against you with need, “Oh God…”

You swallow, breathing becoming more shallow. Your pussy clenches, and you can feel the growing wetness in the boxers Art had lent you, thighs pressing together desperate to relieve some of the pressure.

“Art wake up!” 

Art wakes with a start, head pulled from your shoulder. You can’t see him, but you feel him tense, the warmth of his body ripped from yours as he lurches backward, right off the edge of the bed. He falls with a yelp, hitting the floor with a loud thud. You sit up turning toward him. 

“Fuck!” he says, scrambling to sit and hide his erection, “Shit, I’m so sorry!” His face is red and he grabs a pillow, placing it over his lap, “God–fuck, I’m so sorry I was asleep—” He keeps stuttering, unable to meet your eyes. 

“Art.”

“It’s just biological you know, just morning wood, I would never do anything without your explicit consent–enthusiastic consent!”

“Art…”

“And I would never want to ruin anything between us, ever–”

“Art!”

His head snaps toward you then, eyes meeting yours. His mouth hangs open, eyes watery as he looks up at you. He looks so sad, so embarrassed, and disappointed. And something else as well. Worried, perhaps. 

“Get back up here,” you tell him.

Art’s mouth remains open in shock as he glances at the bed.

“Now?”

“Yes, right now.”

Art scrambles to rejoin you on the bed, lying beside you. He faces you just as he did last night, sandy hair falling across his forehead. You smile softly at his disheveled appearance and his flushed cheeks.

“I’m sorry—”

“Stop talking,” you tell him, reaching forward and brushing some hair from his face. You let your hand trail around to the nape of his neck, fingers curling in his hair. “You have my consent.”

Art’s eyes widen, lips parting in shock.

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” you tell him, pulling yourself closer. His hand drifts to your hip, anchoring himself to it. “Explicit, enthusiastic, all yours.”

The last word has barely left your lips before he’s leaning forward, pressing his lips against your own. They’re warm and soft, he kisses you with innocent eagerness, the hand on your hip pulling you flush against him. You lift your leg, hitching it around his thigh, fingers tangling in his hair and tugging slightly, earning a moan against your mouth.

“Fuck,” he moans against your lips, “You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.”

Something deep inside your belly warms at his admission. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” he answers, kissing you again, “Since freshman year.”

“Why didn’t you…..oh fuck..” your question trails off as Art mouths your neck, sucking and biting the tender skin.

“Didn’t want to ruin anything,” he mumbles, kissing your collarbone. 

You hum at his answer, tilting your head to give him better access. His hand moves from your hip bone, up under your shirt—his shirt. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, mouth returning to your lips.

“Yes,” you tell him, “Please touch me.”

You can feel his smile against your lips as he does what you ask, fingers grazing the underside of your breast. Pushing against him, his hand cups your breast, squeezing lightly. You pull away from his lips briefly, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it to the end of the bed. Art’s eyes devour you and he kisses you desperately as he continues to play with your tits. 

“Fuck you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing down your neck until he reaches the top of your chest. 

Art’s lips move across the tops of your breasts, as though he’s struggling with choosing which one to lavish with attention. Luckily for you, he decides rather quickly and latches his mouth to your right nipple, thumb, and forefinger, tweaking the opposite. Your back arches as he gently bites down, sucking the hardened peak harshly before releasing it with a pop. 

“Art.”

He simply moans, ignoring your cries as he brings his mouth to your opposite nipple, repeating his previous action. Pleasure winds a current in your lower belly, your thighs clench as he repeats his little torture, alternating back and forth between your breasts. You grab his hair, tugging him not too gently until he glances up at you, cheeks red, lips glossy and puckered. 

He’s too pretty.

You pull him back to your lips, kissing him feverishly while trying to rid yourself of the clothing you have left. Art feels you squirming and assists, hands moving the boxers down your legs until you’re able to kick them off at your ankles. Your hands move to him next, eager to even the playing field. 

You tear his shirt over his head revealing his toned stomach from countless hours on the court. Your mouth waters at the sight before Art is on you once more, lips capturing yours in another heated kiss. His hand returns to your hip, curling against it before he reaches further, squeezing your ass.

You smile against his mouth as he squeezes again. 

“You’re just fucking perfect, aren’t you?” he murmurs, returning your smile.

His hand grazes down the back of your thigh before venturing to the front where your legs meet. Your breathing becomes more labored the closer he gets to your hot center. 

“Can I?” he asks, so softly, you nearly drown out his question with your heavy breath.

“Yes,” you tell him, and that’s all he needs. 

Art slides a curious finger between your wet folds, gently circling your clit. Your mouth falls open as he continues.

“You’re so wet,” he remarks, dipping his finger lower, and finding your entrance. 

He lets his middle finger sink into you, met with little resistance. Your walls greedily accept him as he curls his finger upwards, beginning to pump it in and out. Stars explode behind your eyes and you moan, clutching onto his shoulder.

Art smirks, eyes aglow at the pleasured noises you emit.

“That feel good?”

“Yes—fuck,” you squeak as he presses another finger inside of you, “Oh god.”

“Yeah?” 

Art crooks his fingers against your velvety walls, pressing against that special spot inside of you that has your head lolling against him, moans spilling from your lips. His thumb joins, caressing your sensitive clit in time with the strokes of his fingers. 

“Feels so good,” you moan, “I’m so close.”

“Yeah? You're gonna come for me?” he asks, kissing your neck. Your fingers tangle themselves in his blonde hair, tugging harshly, your orgasm building deep in your belly, “Come on baby, come on my fingers, I wanna feel this pretty pussy come.”

His words send you over the edge and your pussy clenches around his digits as you come, thighs shaking from the intensity as warmth floods through you.

“That was so hot,” Art says, kissing you, still buried to the knuckles inside you, “You’re so hot. Let me fuck you, please.”

You hum against his lips as he carefully removes his fingers from your warmth. He pulls away, bringing his fingers to his lips, sucking them clean. You watch him awestruck as he moans, eyes closing at the taste of you.

“Get inside me,” you tell him, “Right now.”

Art doesn’t need to be told twice, sitting up and pulling his boxers off as you lay on your back. Your eyes drift down his stomach to his cock. It’s pretty, just like the rest of him. Long, girthy, a neat tuft of dark sandy colored hair at the base. The tip flushed red and weeping as he strokes himself. 

“Condom?” you ask, and he nods, walking to his desk and rummaging through the first drawer. 

He comes up successful, ripping the wrapper with his teeth and rolling the condom on his length before crawling on top of you. You spread your legs for him as he lines himself up, rubbing the tip along your soaked slit. 

“Art, please put it in,” you whine, hips lifting.

“Jesus, I’m not gonna last long if you keep that up,” he says, shaking his head.

Your responding giggle is short-lived as he slowly sinks inside of you, filling you to the brim.

“Oh god,” you whimper, as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You okay?”

“More than okay,” you answer, cupping his cheek. He mirrors your action and you smile, a sudden burst of tenderness exploding in your chest, tears welling in your eyes. 

Art rotates his hips, pulling back and sinking back into your inviting warmth. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs, kissing your lips, “I’ve dreamt of this for years.”

“Me too,” you admit, wrapping your legs around his waist, “God, Art, I’ve wanted this forever.”

This spurs him on, his thrusts becoming quicker, more eager at your confession. 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you whimper as he pounds into you, “Wanted this for so long—used to talk to….to Tashi about it—”

Art moves his hand along your side, reaching your thigh and hooking your leg over his shoulder.

“What’d you tell her?”

The new angle sends him deeper, the head of his cock rubbing perfectly against that spongy section of your walls that has your mouth dropping open in pleasure.

“Wanted you,” you manage as Art holds one of your hands above your head against the pillows, “Wanted this so bad.”

“I’ll give it to you,” Art says, his breath catching, “Fuck—oh god you’re so pretty like this, fuck.”

“Art!” you cry his name as your second orgasm builds, sneaking up on you as he slows his pace, “Why’d you—”

“Wanna savor this,” he says softly, kissing the tip of your nose. His thrusts have slowed, hips moving with leisure. 

The pressure in your belly continues to build as he smirks down at you. Tennis has done wonders to his stamina; he fucks you like he could keep this pace for hours, barely breaking a sweat. You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he kisses your neck, your hamstring burning deliciously with the stretch. 

“Please come for me,” he murmurs, right next to your ear, “I’ve got to feel that sweet little pussy come around my cock, please.”

You do as you’re told, spurred on by Art whispering praises and encouragement in your ear and you fall apart, clenching around his cock and milking him for all he’s worth. You feel his hips stutter, cock twitching inside your warmth as he follows your release with his own. Art’s lips find yours then, and you can taste yourself on his tongue as he kisses you like a drowning man coming up for air. 

You stay like that for several minutes, his cock softening as you kiss one another, before he slowly pulls out. He takes a moment to take off the condom, tying it off and tossing it in the trash before he rejoins you in bed.

“C’mere,” he says, pulling you across his chest. 

You lie with your cheek pressed against his pec, listening to the gentle beating of his heart. He strokes your arm with his fingers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“Did you mean what you said?” he asks, face buried in your hair, “About wanting me? This?”

“Mhmm,” you answer, putting all your cards on the table, “I may have harbored a small crush on you.”

Art picks up your hand measuring it against his own before lacing your fingers together.

“I wish I knew that earlier,” he admits, still holding your hand, “I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

You glance up at him between your lashes and he grins.

“It’s true,” he says with a smile.

“And here I thought Patrick was the only one who owned your heart,” you tease, causing him to playfully bite your wrist, “Hey!”

“Not the only one,” he admits, rolling you over onto your back, “I’m glad you got kicked out of your room last night.”

You lean up, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Me too.”

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[pshbites]

GIVE ME ONE MORE KISS, KISS, KISS ━ sjy

pairing : bf!jake x fem!reader genre : fluff, est relationship warnings : none! synopsis : just before you can leave for a girls night out your clingy boyfriend tries to hold you captive with kisses wc : 0.7k a/n : YES this is inspo off of no doubt and YES i know its unoriginal but these lyrics scream clingy!jake ;)

if u enjoyed pls like & reblog, feedback is always appreciated!!

jake pouted, watching you do your makeup. “okay but why can’t i come!” he whined for nth time, making you laugh. “baby for the last time, it’s a girls night there isn’t gonna be any guys there” you shook your head, applying your blush. “c'mon baby you know i don’t care about other guys, i wanna go with you” he frowned, clutching your pink pillow tighter in his chest. 

jake was.. a clingy boyfriend in the most loving way possible. he was never jealous or insanely overprotective, he was just a little clingy! you couldn’t say much because the two of you were as equally as clingy with one another but you hadn’t seen your girlfriends in so long that you were yearning to go out with them. jake would never stop you from seeing your friends but he would whine and pout about it as he was doing now. 

“baby if the other girls were bringing their boyfriends i would! but they aren’t. plus it’ll only be a couple hours” you reassured him, not knowing he would only react bigger. “hours?!?” he groaned out, still clutching the same pillow. you laughed a little, finishing up your makeup. “don’t laugh! you look so good just stay with me!!” jake whined, watching you turn around in your vanity chair. “you’ll live baby i promise” he pouted once more, shifting so he could sit criss-cross on your bed. ”can i just come with? i swear i’ll mind my own business please” he said again, watching you make your way over to your full length mirror. 

you looked at his reflection in the mirror and smiled, laughing softly. “for the last time baby its a girls night!” you replied, jake now getting up to lean against the wall next to the mirror. “yeah but it’s like i wont be there! cmon please” he flashed you his puppy eye which would’ve worked but you were already ready to leave! its not like you could just change and then stay home but jake sure seemed to think that was the solution to his problem. you laughed, pushing his shoulder away slightly. 

many people would be annoyed to have a boyfriend that was as clingy as jake was but you knew it was out of love, and to be fair you had no room to judge because just last week you made him get off of his game to watch a show you wanted to watch with him. so you didn’t mind that jake was now in the state that you were in that night.

“baby for the last time, i can’t just bail on them and you can’t come with! i promise next time i’ll convince them to include our boyfriends, okay?” you looked at jake, looking his big doe eyes and he sighed out, admitting defeat. “fine.. text me everything okay! and whatever pictures you take, send them to me like the second you take them!” he said, now a bit more serious and a little sad. “of course i will baby, walk me out?” you held out your hand in front of him and he grabbed it, the two of you walking out of your room and to the front door. 

at the front door, jake let go of your hand to let you put on your shoes and jacket as he leaned against the wall, watching you. more like admiring you but you weren’t paying attention to him looking at you. you looked up and saw him smiling. “can i get a goodbye kiss since you’re leaving me for hours.” you rolled your eyes playfully at his dramatics and walked over, placing a peck on his lips. “that good?” you mumbled, smiling at him. jake pondered for a second then shook his head ‘no’. “one more” he said, angling his head so his cheek was facing you, you smiled and kissed his cheek. “ah you have to do the other one too” he turned his head the other way so the other side of his face was facing you. you kissed his cheek once more and leaned back. 

“that good now?” you said, hoping he would agree but as you expected he shook his head, making you laugh. “jake i really gotta go” you whined out, hoping he would just let you go. he sighed and groaned. “fine fine, go have fun” he spoke out, shutting his eyes in a playful manner. you laughed, shoving his shoulder and heading to the door. “bye bye baby” you waved and jake kept on waving until you shut the door, making you smile at his silly antics. 

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enha taglist

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[kairoot]

.𖥔˚. 𝑺OFT LAUNCHING ──── PSH.

ׂ ִ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬．𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇’𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖽𝖾𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗒 𝗇𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗎𝖻𝗅𝗂𝖼． — 𝐩. 𝗂𝖽𝗈��！𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅！𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 — 𝐠. 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑢，𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝，𝑓𝑙𝑢𝖿𝖿 — 𝐰. （？）

🩰 ──── ib @lovhrin :) read the jake fic a while back and i’ve loved it ever since. also, late hoonie fic !!!!

• • •

﹙ 🔖 ﹚ ──── @haechansbbg @contyynishimura @sasfransisco @kgneptun @jungwonderz @enha-stars @dioll @jakesangel @cupidscourt @violetwitchmcu @haohaoshoe @randomgirl02228 @wonsdoll @powerpuffstuts @elysianiki @mmygnolia @bnkiz @who-tf-soddhi — send an ask to join

﹙ 🌐 ﹚ ──── @k-films @en-diaries

[drewsephrry]

babygirl

[cheonstapes]

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘THE SWEETER THE JUICE’ o(^-^)o

･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡. miguel o’hara x reader .｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･

SMUT

now he’s finally got you pregnant, he’s gonna do what he’s been dreaming of all these years. suck. those. tits.

same universe as this miguel.

cw; lactation kink, pregnancy, breeding kink (not really but yknow me), dry humping, titties, older nerd!miguel, they’re finally married!

800+ words

@cheonstapes : she’s back! again!

if miguel had to pick a part of your body he loved the most, it’d definitely be your tits.

if you think he was obsessed before — you don’t wanna know what goes through his head as he watches you waddle around his house, carrying his kid, sighing every time you leak through another shirt. you had forgone a bra ever since you got pregnant, saying how uncomfortable they feel against your chest — not that he was complaining.

“for fucks-sake, again?”

he was so used to hearing you say that, he already had a shirt on hand for you to change into. you were so grateful for your doting husband that you completely missed that nasty glint in his eyes you usually only see when he’s bending you over the bed and fucking you raw — luckily for him.

“here, honey. lift your arms for me.”

as you do, he pulls the shirt up — the soiled fabric catching under your swollen breasts as he wiggles it off you. “ah, shit — thanks, baby. but fuck, am i’m so tired of changing shirts every 10 minutes!” you might be tired, but miguel cannot get enough of it. he was already so fucking hard, practically salivating at the sight of your bare breasts still leaking down your heavy belly.

“maybe you should just ditch the shirts all together, love — you know i hate seeing my beautiful wife uncomfortable.” miguel’s voice was a soft whisper in your ear, lips slowly tracing down the side of your jaw to your sensitive neck — kissing the skin so tenderly. his calloused hands gently massaged the taut flesh of your tits, probing and squeezing at your nipples to let out small trickles of that sweet milk.

“migs, how many times are you gonna say that?”

“as many as it takes for you to finally listen.”

the breathy laugh you let out did little to qualm the feeling deep in his gut — he was dead serious, there was absolutely no reason for you to be in shirts all the time when you have him to take care of you whenever you needed a good milking. his hips were already sinking into to the plush of your ass that he loved oh-so-much — especially with how much fatter it got during your pregnancy.

it was almost as if he had lost control of his body, a hand landing on your waist to bend you over the counter as he mindlessly ruts into you. “dios, nena, eres tan hermosa. vas a ser la mamá más guapa, ¿verdad? mm, my pretty, little mama.” miguel never failed to turn you on to no bounds, like, you have a walking greek god as a husband — but those fucking hormones were making it unbearable.

the force at which he was pushing against you had shifted your drenched panties to the side, leaving practically nothing between you and his drooling bulge. his fingers tightened around the fat of your hips, squeezing the flesh delicious hard as his free hand flipped you over — pushing your back against the edge of the counter. “shit…been waiting to taste these all fucking day, honey.”

mindful of your growing belly, he hiked one of your legs up on his hip — craning his neck down to suck on a pert nipple. wasting no time, and at a much better angle, he continued to grind against you — his tip catching against your engorged clit. “m—migs, baby, fuck…” the way he swirled and sucked so eagerly reminded you of when you first started dating, how determined he was to knock you up before the two of you even moved in together.

the taste was so addicting, some of your milk trickling down his body — dripping onto the ground beneath you. you knew he was about to cum, hard — his eyes had rolled back, breathing in heavy pants, hands rushing to pull down the waistband of his sweats. “gonna paint my girls in my cum, love — sé una buena chica y mantenlos juntos para mí.”

“‘course, baby.” you nodded breathlessly, squishing the globes of fat together as he pumped his cock dry — head thrown back as ropes upon ropes of his hot seed coated your tits, sliding into the self-made crevice. “god, what did i do in my past life to have a wife as sexy as you, mamí?” his spent cock bobbed against his thigh as he trapped you against the counter — kissing you deeply as his wet hands reaching up to rub the cum into the skin of your breasts.

“mmph — y’know, i heard cum’s good for the skin. it, uh, helps with the blood circulation in your tits — i think we should do this more often, love.”

“migs, if you weren’t, like — a whole scientist, i might’ve believed you. if you want a titjob, just say that.”

“…i mean, you said it — not me.”

all your home shirts were promptly locked away and never to be seen again.

-new year, new waiting for cheon to get her shit together andpost!

[wyniepooh]

Closer

you thought that you were already close with patrick and art; turns out, you could get even closer.

Boardingschool!patrick & boardingschool!art x boardingschool!reader.

it’s no secret that the three of you were close.

Everyone at school acknowledges it by joking that you’re practically their manager, because you’re on the bleachers at every practice, seated front row at every match, and the second the games finishes (usually in their favour), the first person they go running to is you.

in fact, you're all so close that you've developed a habit to follow them into the locker room after every practice. if anyone ever questioned your entry into the room, they’d both chime at the same time: “she’s ours.”

neither of them bat an eye when you sit down on the bench between the metal lockers and watch them get changed because it’s you, their little manager, and they didn’t ever hide anything from you.

You’d read them the daily school news, explain the daily school gossip, and update them on any homework they missed in the name of tennis practice. they’d thank you in their typical ways by ruffling your hair and throwing their sweaty shirts on you before sandwiching you in a suffocating hug.

You shriek and laugh and say, ‘stop it!’ but really, you’re too focused on the feel of their bare chests against you— slippery from sweat and hot from the heat— to care about anything else.

There’s always a brief moment after all the amusement when the laughter dissipates and you’re all just staring at each other. Your smile fades, and suddenly you’re painfully aware of their rapid breaths rising against you on either side, and the heat of it all fills the silent air with something else other than just audible breaths.

Today it’s patrick who looks over to art first, who returns his stare with pressed lips. you catch a flicker of something in their eyes, but they looked away before you could decipher it. However, it was clear that a silent agreement had been reached right in front of you. you suspect that for the first time since you transferred to the school, they were hiding something from you.

patrick breaks the silence first, turning slightly away from you to gently close his locker as he murmurs, “you know, there have been a lot of rumours on campus lately.”

You scoffed, stuffing your agenda into your bag before smoothing a hand over your hair. “Really? What kind of rumours?”

Patrick shrugged. He pulled a shirt over his shoulders, nodding his head towards art. “Rumours about us, mostly. Tell her, art.”

art purses his lips multiple rimes before speaking. “It’s just trash talk,” he pauses. patrick glances over to him one more time, flashing him a subtle glare before art finally continues, “there's talk about how the three of us are suspiciously close, or whatever.”

“I guess it’s not so much a rumour as it is true,” you responded. You tilted your head towards them both, eyes squinting with humour as you questioned, “you guys do consider us close, right? I mean, after all I do for you guys, I’m honestly glad that people are speculating and starting to appreciate my efforts.”

“It’s just,” Patrick turns back around, shuffling his feet to sit down across from you on the bench with legs on either side of the wooden plank. His hands are gathered in the middle, fingers attempting to itch closer and closer to your own without you seeing.

“We could be a lot closer, you know.”

You raised an eyebrow at Patrick’s sneaky hands, a slight smile still intact on your face as you asked, “How close can we get, pat? There’s a limit to everything. Even the sky.”

“he’s right.”

You almost jump at the sudden voice you hear in your ear. you cleared your throat as he slid closer towards your back. Art mirrored Patrick’s movements with legs on either side of the bench, but his hands fiddled with the edge of your hoodie as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“We could be a lot closer.”

You observed the way art pressed his lips together, snuggling his face into the side of your neck as Patrick’s thumb rubbed circles on your hand. you hadn’t even registered that patrick was now grinning, guilding your unsuspecting hand towards his dark curls.

You instinctively wrap your fingers around his wet hair, and you almost gasp when you hear patrick whimper. He pants heavily against your wrist, lips tickling the tender skin as he breathes, “why don’t you come over to our dorm after class?”

You shake your head, dropping your hand from his head. “I don’t think-“

“Please,” art whispers against your neck.

You close your eyes, sucking on the inside of your cheek as you sighed deeply. For a beat, you simply listen to the sound of their synced breathing, taking in the familiar smell of the locker room, and the familiar smell of them. When you open your eyes again, Patrick and art are both eagerly staring at you, pleading with silence.

You suddenly laugh, smiling uncontrollably as you lean back against art and pull patrick closer by the hand that is still wrapped around yours. patrick gladly scooches closer until his nose is practically rubbing against yours, and he returns your laughter with a chuckle of his own.

“Okay,” you mutter while glancing back at art, whose mouth was agape with something adjacent to shock.

“so let’s get closer.”

-

a/n: “why don’t u come over to our-“ bags r packed.

[midnightwrriting]

I'm thinking of this man being a big muncher. Not even 5 minutes back to the hotel room, and he's hurting as his boxer rubs against his tip. Pushing you back onto the bed, already pulling at your tennis skirt. "Fuck, god you looks so good there. Need a taste right now. " he would whine seeing how wet you already are.

Kissing your thighs praising you thanking you in the most pathetic way possible. His body dry humping the bed "so so so god damn beautiful so..." a moan ripping from his throat would stop him. Drool already on his chin from him pulling his lip into his mouth.

Not wasting another moment he would dive in like this was his last meal. Moaning and humming like a starved man. His hands held your legs apart as his tongue worked into you. His nose brushing your clit at the right speed.

His hips would be grinding into the mattress repeatedly. He gets off on eating you out. Even if you'd had enough, he doesn't stop. He's devoted to you, and eating you until he dies is what he will do.

Knowing you were close to coming makes him close. He's literally shaking as he works you, his fingers digging into your thighs and his hips grinding hard against the bed.

He would come so hard in his boxers after you came on his face. Pulling up, he looked at you with such pathetic eyes, "So good." he would give soft kisses and couldn't help but dive back in and start again

Art m.list

[dollerin]

𝘂𝒔𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝒓𝘁 . ݁ ⋆ ݁ NRK.

( ℛ𝑒𝘴𝘶𝘮𝑒́ ) ──── teaching him to love with his heart, and not his eyes.

n. riki fluff + comedy + romance + text au a bit of cursing

꒰ ≧ ̫ ≦ ꒱ྀི : moral of the story is some girls don’t want the bare minimum and pretty gifts shoved in their faces all the time :)

[morbidapples]

i never forgot you

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽!𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝖽𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂 𝖽𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝗈. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 𝟧,𝟨𝟣𝟧 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌; 𝟥𝟢,𝟨𝟣𝟢 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗎𝗆𝖺, 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗁𝗈𝗅 (𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄), 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾, 𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗏 𝗌𝖾𝗑 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆 (𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅), 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝗮/𝗻: 𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌. 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂'𝗆 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇. 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗁, 𝗂 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒, 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

"Did you hear Art Donaldson's coming?"

That's all anyone could talk about, Art this, Art that. So what if he was coming? You didn't give a shit. (You did, you always did when it came to him.)

Logically, you knew you might see him here, but emotionally, you were really hoping you wouldn't have to, especially considering there were hundreds of people at the Standford alumni gathering.

Once you'd graduated, you'd left all traces of him behind. Or at least, you tried. His name still popped into your head, his face sometimes even appeared in your dreams at night.

Even worse, promotion for him and Tashi Duncan's book was plastered over half the city of New Jersey. It certainly didn't help that one was on the billboard that you so unfortunately had a view of from the window of your apartment.

Your friendship with him had never been clear, but it had been everything but simple. You had felt there was always something more, with the lingering glances, and the gentle touches.

But all of that had changed when she showed up. Tashi fucking Duncan. You felt robbed, stolen from. As soon as she'd stepped into the picture, Art's attention was solely on her.

So you left. Erased yourself out of his life completely. Distanced your life from his until you both graduated, and never looked back. Well, mostly.

Looking back, maybe it was selfish. But all you knew is that you couldn't bear to watch him fawn over her like a lost puppy. Not when you felt so deeply for him.

You shake your head, trying to break yourself out of your stupor. There's too many people here, and you hate it. You already know everyone will want to ask you about your life, your career.

Once you'd left Stanford, you'd made a name for yourself in the tennis world. You loved winning, but you despised the attention. But you knew it was the price to pay for success. So, you tried to keep as much of your private life out of the headlines as possible.

You needed to clear your head, get some fresh air. And figure out what the hell you were doing here, and why you thought it was a good idea to show up.

Unfortunately, it seems like someone else had the same idea, as you're hit with the smell of smoke as soon as you step outside.

"Needed to get away, too?"

Your heart plummets at the familiar, yet unmistakable voice. The one person you'd prayed you wouldn't have to see. Art Donaldson.

You turn to see him leaning against the rail, taking a drag from his cigarette. You'd almost forgotten how utterly gorgeous he was until you laid your eyes on him, and it seemed like he'd only gotten better with age.

The smoke from the cigarette wafts off into the air, and your eyes lock with his. A moment of silence goes by. You want to greet him briefly and then walk off, but he speaks before you do.

"Long time, no see."

You mentally curse yourself for not being quick enough to have the first word, and nod slightly, an indifferent expression on your face.

"Art Donaldson. Has been a long time, hasn't it?"

He blows out another puff of smoke, eyeing you. He'd be lying if he said he'd forgotten about you. You were someone who had haunted him for years, through his entire marriage with Tashi. He could never forget about you, no matter how much time had passed.

"You haven't changed a bit."

You don't say anything, not quite sure how to respond. It's true, it had been years since you and him had last spoken. But what you didn't know is that he had made an effort to keep up with you. He'd been keeping tabs on how you were doing with your tennis career. He'd never admit it, but he was guilty of googling you, to find only headlines of your tennis wins, and barely anything about your personal life.

It seemed like when you weren't playing tennis, you basically ceased to exist, which he suspected was your choice entirely. Despite the years of zero contact, Art couldn't pretend like he didn't care for you. That he didn't still love you, even if he'd been so incredibly blind to it back in your college days.

"Congratulations, by the way." Art says, alluring to your recent conquest in the tennis world. "Winning gold at the Rio Games is no small feat." He can see in your expression that winning that medal wasn't completely satisfying. Your face tells him that you haven't felt a sense of contentment in a very long time.

He wants to ask you why you disappeared. He'd wanted to for years. But all that comes out is, "How's your family?" Stupid question with an even stupider answer. He wanted to slap himself in the face. He knew your family was a sore topic for you. And yet, he was still coming up with mindless small talk to try to fill the unbearable tension between you.

You sigh. "Fine, minus my bitch of a mother. She passed a couple years ago." Art internally winces. He knew you'd had it bad at home, only living with your mother for most of your life after your father had left when you were nine. You'd moved to California to attended Stanford the moment you'd become a legal age to be on your own.

He sucks in a sharp breath and frowns softly as you talk about your mother's passing. There was no love lost in between you and her, but he didn't want to be cruel and completely insensitive.

"Sorry about that." Art says, taking another hit off his cigarette. He looks at you, taking you in with a sense of wonderment. You had grown into such an incredible woman, and somehow, it seemed like you'd gotten even more beautiful. Your deep colored eyes and sun-kissed skin make his heart best faster. How he's missed you.

You shrug, trying not to show any hint of emotion on your face as you speak. "Eh, don't be. You know she was always a shit mother anyways."

If he was being honest, he'd say your mother was a lot of things- manipulative, selfish, abusive- but he would've been lying if Art said that he didn't want to protect you back then.

Looking back at it now, there's so many things he could've done differently back then, like be a better friend. Maybe even a better boyfriend, if he'd had the chance. His mouth opens as if he's going to say something stupid, but Art closes it and instead says, "Why'd you disappear? Why don't we talk?"

Your eyebrows raise slightly, at his inquiry. Truth be told, he knows what you don't talk anymore. He knows he fucked up, majorly. But he's relieved when you don't immediately snap at him, or worse. You always did have a short fuse.

"And how do you know I disappeared? Have you been keeping tabs on me?"

He looks at you, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Are you serious?" Art raises his brows, "You're not seriously asking me that. You're one of the best tennis players out there. You went radio silent." He pauses, before saying in a slightly teasing way, "You're the one who should've been keeping tabs on me."

You scoff, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "I don't have to. You and Tashi are plastered over half the buildings and billboards in Jersey." Jersey. Jersey? He was surprised you moved there out of all places. You'd always expressed a dislike for it back then.

Art chuckles at your response. "What, don't you like Jersey?" He jokes, flicking the cigarette away. He turns his body to look at you, studying your expression. "But seriously. Why did you drop off the face of the earth?" He's not going to tell you that he'd looked for you, even though he had. It was a few searches on Google, a few emails. You'd just vanished.

His mouth opens again, this time not backing down from what he really wanted to say. "And don't give me some bullshit excuse either." It sounds more like a command to you than anything. Art is really trying to keep himself from saying all the things he's wanted to say for years.

The thinly veiled frustration lining his voice sends a rush of anger through you. Who does he think he is, ordering you around?

"Don't speak to me that way. Like you have some type of control over me."

It's then Art knows he's screwed up, letting that irritation seep into his tone. He knows he doesn't have any control over you. He never has, and never will. He doesn't want to control you. He just wants you again.

"I'm not. I know I don't have control over you. But did you forget that I was once your friend?" Friend. It pains him to even call you that. You were always more, even though he was completely sucked into Tashi's orbit, like she was the sun. She wasn't. Art stands taller, his broad shoulders straight, his eyes never pulling away from yours.

"Were we, though? You dropped me for Tashi the second she showed up, and you wonder why I haven't reached out?"

Art's teeth grind in his mouth. "That's not fair." He says gruffly, even though he's lying through his teeth. "I didn't drop you. If I remember correctly, you were the one who left." He's getting agitated, his heart starting to race, his hands starting to clench into fists.

But not towards you. God, never you. He'd rather die than ever cause you harm. But the thing is, you weren't wrong. That's exactly what he did.

"I left because I knew if I stuck around, it would never stop hurting me."

That's when Art knows, getting involved with Tashi was the worst thing he ever did. It cost him his friendship with Patrick, his love for tennis. It cost him you.

He knew that your words were laced with truth, that he truly was the root of the heartache that you felt. And he'd do anything to take it back. But he couldn't. The only thing be could do now it try to make it right.

As for his feelings, that's another can of worms Art doesn't even want to open. He'd always had feelings for you, feelings that he thought would go away. But no, years later, they were still as present as ever. He wished he hadn't been so blind.

"I've always been second to Tashi. I couldn't ever compete with her, Art."

He swallows hard. Deep down, he knows it's true. Back in your college days, he was so focused on Tashi that he'd failed to notice what was right in front of him.

Art's heart hurt for you. But even though he knew how much he'd hurt you, how selfish he'd been, he couldn't help but get upset at your words.

"You could never complete?" He huffs through clenched teeth, shaking his head. "God, you just don't get it, do you?" Art steps forward, his body almost towering over you.

Rationally, he knows this isn't the right time or place, and maybe there won't ever be a right time or place. But you're here, now, and he won't lose you again without telling you how he feels.

A sudden heat washes over your body as he steps closer, his breath hitting your face.

"You could never, ever compete with Tashi, but not because you aren't good enough." His hand shoots up to touch your cheek, a soft touch to your skin. His thumb runs against your bottom lip, gently.

Everything in you screams for you to back away, go before you get hurt again. But you find yourself mesmerized by those same eyes you fell in love with all those years ago.

Art's voice is low and deep as he continues, his eyes never leaving yours. "You could never compete with her because I was stupid, I was stupid enough to fall in love with you first. But I pushed you away."

The confession is whispered, and you can hardly believe what he's said. What is going on? Art Donaldson is standing in front of you, declaring his love after years of no contact and a failed marriage to another.

"Art, I..." You don't know what to say. Your brain is mush, your head filled with a million thoughts, your heart threatening to pound out of your chest. You're missed, you're resented, you're loved, and now all you want to do is kiss him.

His hand cupping your cheek begins to slide down to your neck and his other hand slips around your waist, softly tugging you against him. His fingers slide through your hair and Art's eyes are on you, watching you, taking you in.

"I have loved you since we were kids. I was so stupid to not notice it before." He whispers, his breath hitching and his cheeks flushing ever so slightly. "And I have never been able to get you out of my head or my heart. And I am sick and tired of pretending like you aren't the love of my goddamn life."

There isn't any hint of malice, or treachery in his eyes, and he hopes to God that you know that. He knows he can't ever take back the pain he caused you, but he wants to try even if it kills him.

With that, Art kisses you. It's hot, it's needy, and it's passionate as all hell. Your body is responding to him in ways you didn't even know was possible. As he continues to pour all his love for you into that kiss, it picks up in pace, until you feel Art's teeth biting your lip. Your mouth opens to respond, but his tongue slips inside your mouth, causing a low moan to hum out of you. Your tongues slide against each other, your bodies pressed together tightly.

Art can't help himself as his hands explore every inch of your body. One hand is buried in your hair, but the other is traveling down, exploring the bare skin of your back. You arch into him, your fingers digging into his shirt.

You taste like nicotine and beer, you taste like home, a flavor that makes him all that much hungrier for you. He lets out a low groan as he slips his hands into the back of your pants, causing you to moan into his mouth.

Art is starting to lose control and knows that if he doesn't stop this now, he'll take you right here in the grass outside the reunion. He doesn't want your first time to be like this. Not when there's been so much grief getting here, so much pain he's caused to you.

Reluctantly, he rips his mouth off of yours, pulling away slightly. Both of you are panting heavy, your cheeks flushed.

Art doesn't say anything at first. His eyes rake over your disheveled appearance, your lips swollen, your hair out of place. He's sure he looks just as bad. Clearing his throat, he mutters a soft apology. "This isn't happening here. Can I..." He's about to say that he wants to take you back to his hotel.

You nod quickly, eyes blown wide with desire, but with love, too. "Y-yeah. Yeah." After all this time, not seeing him, you'll be damned if you let him slip through your fingers again.

That's all Art needs to hear. He grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers before leading the way to his car. Thank god the reunion was being hosted at a hotel, or Art wouldn't have been able to control himself.

After getting into the car, Art speeds out of the parking lot, his hand never letting go of yours. The drive back is a bit of a blur, his focus solely on you.

When you arrive at his hotel, Art is pulling you down the hallway, your lips connected like two magnets, unable to stay away from each other. Every step is like a challenge as you make your way to the room. All the while, you both stumble over your own feet until you feel your back against the door. You moan into his mouth once more, pulling at Art's shirt, before your kiss is broken by a panting Art.

"Wait," Art whispers, his voice soft. His eyes look at you in the dark of the hallway, his breath coming in hard pants. He's about to ask you if you want this, but your lips meeting his, your hands exploring his bare chest underneath the shirt, is all the answer he needs. He fumbles around for the handle of the door, trying to put the key card in, and it seems like an eternity until you stumble into the room.

Once inside the bedroom, Art is pulling you on top of him on the bed, his body desperate for you to be closer. You shift in his lap, pressing yourself against him, his hardness against your thigh. You gasp, hands running down his chest. Your lips remain locked as your fingers explore each other. Art is running his hands under your shirt, exploring your waist and sides eagerly.

And that's when Art's brain is hit with a sudden realization. He pulls back, breathing heavily, "Wait. We need to stop." He says, his voice firm. Art's eyes find you, and your brow is furrowed as you look at him with confusion and desire.

"What is it?" You ask, your breathing shallow. Art's hands on your sides make you shiver, his touch awakening every inch of your body. "Do you..." You pause, watching his face, "Do you not want this?" Your voice is soft and questioning.

His hands on your sides grip tighter as he answers, "God no, I want this. I want you. I just..." Art can feel the words catch in his throat, but then the question slips out, "Do you love me? I just... I don't want this to be just a causal thing, you know? I finally have you, and I don't want to lose you again." He waits for you to answer, the words hanging in the air. Your breath hitches in his ears.

The anxiety coursing through your veins deflates at his response, and you laugh quietly. "Are you dense? Of course. I've loved you since we were sixteen."

And that is what he's been waiting for. Art can feel a smile spread across his lips, his heart swelling as he pulls you in for a kiss. It's not a kiss filled with the same desire as before. It's filled with love and joy, full of passion and promise.

His hand moves to your back, gently caressing your back, before he flips the two of you so that he's leaning over you, his body still pressed against yours.

His mouth moves down to your neck, pressing wet kisses along your skin, while his hands slide up your sides to tease the waistband of your jeans. He can feel your fingers burying themselves in his hair, your back arching just slightly.

Art can feel the neediness as your touch urges him closer and closer. You're tugging at his shirt, your breath coming out in short stutters. He feels your mouth trail down his neck and Art's hands fumble with your jeans, desperately working on the zipper and pushing them off.

As soon as your jeans are off, he presses his body against you again, his hips rocking into yours. A low moan slips out of Art's mouth as your bodies grind into each other, his mouth finding yours, hungry and hot.

Art can feel your nails dig into his shoulders. He's gripping your thigh, his hand slipping under your shirt to touch your bare skin, feeling his need rise like a raising fire in his stomach.

You gasp out, fingers pushing at his shirt, desperate to see more. More of him. "Off- off. I wanna see you."

Your gasp makes his heart flutter and Art can't help but groan into your mouth as you say those words. "Yeah..." He mutters against your lips, his body hot and needy against yours.

Art lets go of you and lifts his shirt off, tossing it to the floor, revealing his hard, toned abdomen and built chest. His eyes search your face, watching you take in sight of him and waiting for approval.

God, he's beautiful. Like a damn sculpture in a museum. You lean up to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to his chest, taking a moment to gently tug on his nipple with your teeth. If that isn't a sign of your approval, then he doesn't know what is.

Art bites the inside of his lip to muffle his moan. The feeling of your teeth on him is like electricity on his skin and he can't help the whimper that slips out of his mouth. His own teeth graze the skin of your neck, sucking slightly.

He wants you, needs you. And you are making it painfully obvious that the feeling is mutual. He moans into your mouth as Art pushes you gently back into the mattress as he slides between your thighs.

And then his body is pressing against you again, and you're both back to grinding against each other, the friction making you both moan. It's hot and sweat-inducing, passionate and fast. Art's hands are reaching for your bra and tugging it off, needing to feel your skin on his.

The minute the bra hits the floor, he's touching you again, his hands trailing down from your chest to your hips. His mouth finds yours again, your kiss a needy, hard, hungry mess of tongue and teeth.

Art is painfully hard, desperate for you. His hips are rocking, his breath coming hot and needy as you grind together. The pleasure is starting to build, and he can feel your own neediness growing.

He's got to be inside you. Every part of his body is screaming with that need, but he's so desperately trying to hold back. It's not just Art, though. You're needy, as well, your moans and whines telling him exactly what you want.

Art's hand slides down your body, and pauses just above the band of your panties, looking at you in a silent question of consent. When you nod, his hand slip into your underwear, his fingers touching your wetness. He can feel you gasp against his mouth, and Art's fingers rub teasing circles against your cunt. "You're so beautiful." He whispers against your mouth, desperate and needy, "And you're all mine." He's never sounded so possessive before and it shocks him.

But you can't get enough of it. After years of longing, years of pining, he's finally looking at you. He loves you. You moan in his ear, hips canting into his touch.

And then Art's fingers are slipping inside you, pumping slowly as you kiss and press into each other. The way you moan, the way your body reacts, makes Art moan with you, unable to keep himself quiet. He's drowning in your scent and your skin, everything in this room is you.

One of your arms wraps around his neck, as you gasp, moan, and pant into his ear. You're squeezing around his fingers, as his name falls from your lips like a vow. "Oh, oh, God- Art- fuck, don't stop-"

Art's fingers are pumping harder and faster, driven by the sound of his name spilling from your lips. Your moans fill his ears, the sounds and the way you're saying your name makes his neediness all the more desperate. He's desperate to make you cum, to see you come undone because of him.

It isn't long before you feel that familiar coil building in your stomach. "I'm gon- fuck-" You're so close, he can feel it.

He moans into your mouth, shifting down as his fingers work harder, his thumb finding your cunt. "Yeah?" He whispers, his mouth trailing down your neck. "You gonna come for me, baby?"

You gasp out hoarsely, muscles tightening. "Yes! Fuck, mhm-" Your eyes threaten to roll back back, as your jaw goes slack at your upcoming orgasm.

Art can feel you trembling against him, your body shaking as his hands work. This is the effect he has in you and it's driving him crazy. He's panting with his own neediness, but watching and hearing you is what's doing him in. "Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me." He whispers, feeling you clench around his fingers.

"I'm-" You cut yourself off as Art's fingers hit just the right spot. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and you're gasping out into his shoulder, mostly incoherent swears as your muscles clench and your orgasm washes over you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- so good, so good-" The sight of you is something he never wants to forget. Eyes fluttering, mouth agape, your moans rising in pitch.

Art can feel a groan escape as he watches you orgasm, his fingers still working to bring you over the edge. You're a perfect picture of ecstasy, flushed pink and trembling against him. "God, you're gorgeous." He moans out, feeling your thighs tremble.

A moment later, he's pulling his hands away from your body, his own neediness growing more desperate. He kisses you, deep and hard, before murmuring in her ear. "Turn over for me, sweetheart."

You're a little shaky as you let him shift and roll you over on your stomach, but you're all too willing. Art's hands are sliding up your soft thighs, his touch gentle with so much love. He's pressed against you again, his mouth leaving kisses up your spine, before he's pulling a cushion under your hips.

His teeth sink into the soft skin of your shoulder as he grinds against you again, moaning into your shoulder; the friction and neediness is driving him insane. "I need you." He whispers, his voice thick with need.

You can feel him pressing against you, his desperate need all too apparent. You moan into the pillow in response, pushing back slightly against him. You whine softly as his teeth bite your shoulder, a low shudder running through your body. "Then take me." You moan, arching your back to press firmly against him.

You're driving him absolutely mad. Art's hands grip your hips, fingers pressing into the delicate skin before pulling you up against him. He's panting in your ear, "Yeah? You want me, baby? Tell me his much you need me." His own neediness is making him desperate.

Your hand reaches back to tangle your fingers in his hair, gasping into his ear. "Please, please, Art- need you to fill me up- need you so bad-"

Art's brain doesn't have time to register your words because he's moaning against your skin and rocking needily against you. His teeth bite your shoulder again as he pants out, desperate, "Yeah, honey, anything- anything you want- I'm yours." He whispers, almost incoherent in his desire for you.

His head dips down to your ear, panting into it and shifting slightly. "Do I need a condom, sweetheart?" He moans, his voice huskier than before. His hands are running down your sides again, the touch almost like a soothing caress before they settle on your waist.

You gasp out, hips still rolling back against his, desperate for friction. "No- I'm on birth control-"

Art nearly sags in relief. He would've used a condom if he needed to, but the thought of going raw inside you makes him to absolutely feral.

"God, you're perfect." He moans, one of his hands trailing back down to your hips and gripping them tightly. He's still moaning needily, your words only driving him further towards the edge. His forehead presses to the back of your neck, his breath hit and needy on your skin. "Gonna make you feel good, sweetheart."

When he finally slides into you, his eyes roll into the back of his head. You're so warm, so soft, so perfect. And the way you're gripping into his hair as he enters you is so goddamn good. You're tugging on locks of his blonde hair, as his body is draped over your back, skin to skin, and it takes effort not to cum then and there.

Art is panting into your neck, his body draped over yours like a living blanket. Your body is perfect under his, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you back into him, as he pants out, "You feel so good, sweetheart. God- can you-" His words are cut off as he bites the nape of your neck, and he's moaning, needy and incoherent.

He's pressed fully into you, surrounded by heat and pleasure. It's driving him crazy, but then you're pulling his hair and he's moaning against your skin, shuddering slightly. You're perfect, all of you, and Art's lost in you.

One of your hands stays tangled in his hair, and the other is curled tightly into the sheets as he thrusts into you, your body rocking forward with each one. Your breasts are bouncing slightly as he fucks you, and you're gasping and moaning pleas of his name, incoherent swears, and begging him not to stop.

And Art is thrusting into you, moaning and panting like a wild animal. His hands are gripping your hips, his own breaths coming out hot and needy against your shoulder. His own moans are spilling out, broken up by his words. "God, baby- you feel so good- so perfect-" He's practically whimpering with need, his face buried in your shoulder. "Want you so bad- honey- God-"

You're driving him insane with your gasps and moans, and Art's words are losing syllables, become more incoherent and slurred with his thrusts. You're perfect, and he can feel a pressure building low in his stomach. He's shaking, the pleasure becoming too much as he gasps out, "Sweetheart, I'm close- gonna-"

He's close, the pressure growing, and he's babbling mindlessly now, his words broken up by moans and gasps. "God- gonna come- don't stop-" He's whimpering into your shoulder, his hand traveling down to your waist and holding you like a vice.

He's pulling you back as he thrusts forward into you, and the pressure and pleasure are too much. His fingers dig into your waist, and Art can feel himself fall over the edge. He's moaning, gasping out your name as his nails dig into your skin, his breath hit against your shoulder.

It's only a moment before he's reaching down to rub figure eights against your cunt, desperate to make you cum.

And he's barely coming down from his own climax, still shuddering and gasping, yet his hands are moving already. He's touching you, fingers rubbing circles against your cunt, desperate to bring you over the edge with him. "Come on, baby. Come on-" He's whining, breath hot against your skin, as he continues his efforts, desperate for your peak.

You're close, he can feel it. You're trembling under his touch and Art's fingers are working faster and faster, begging you, "Please- please- come on- please-" And then you're arching your back against him, shuddering and gasping as you cum under his touch.

Art's eyes roll back into his skull as you come under his fingers and on his cock, a desperate whine slipping out of his mouth. He'd almost forgotten how wonderful your orgasms are. You're ethereal. "God- sweetheart-" He's moaning, pulling you closer, desperate to keep touching you and feel you shaking against him.

He's panting, his forehead pressing to the nape of your neck. His head us spinning from the onslaught of pleasure, his body trembling slightly. He's panting and shivering and still buried deep in you, and all he can think about is still you. Your skin, your scent, your body. His brain can't catch up.

It takes a few minutes before he's come down enough to pull away from you, slipping out of you slowly yet reluctantly. He's still whimpering in your ear, kissing your shoulder reverently. There's a gentle smile pulling at his lips as his arms wrap around you and pull you closer, wanting to feel more skin to skin contact.

Everything else slips away as his body is pressed against yours, legs tangled and skin on skin. Art's body is still buzzing from his orgasm, but right now, you're his one and only focus. He's whispering in your ear, mindless praise and sweet words he wouldn't dare say to anyone else. "God, baby- you're perfect. You're everything- I could drown in you and die happy."

You giggle softly, basking in the afterglow. After so long, you're here, with him. And he loves you. By God, does he love you. He reaches out to tuck a sweat soaked piece of hair behind your ear, pausing to gently run his thumb over your cheekbone. "I love you."

You can't help the exhausted grin that creeps onto your face when you hear that. "I love you, too."

He contains to murmur gentle words and praises, although his words are broken up by soft kisses to your shoulder. It's been years since he's felt this kind of pleasure. Years since he felt so content, so at home. Art hadn't realized how much he'd missed it- missed you. Right now, his only desire is to hold onto you, keep you as close as possible, and never let you go again.

Not that you'd even dream of leaving him again.

[miumura]

STUPID CUPID! ─── JAEHYUN ONESHOT ✶

𓊆 🪽 𓊇 CUPID’S HANDBOOK ✶ Nothing could've prepared Jaehyun for the moment you, his ex, walked through the doors of his matchmaking business, hoping to find someone new. As a Cupid undercover, he sees this as his chance to finally move on by setting you up with someone "better." Determined to prove he's over you, Jaehyun throws himself into the task—only for a small mishap with his powers to send everything spiraling out of control.

OR IN WHICH Instead of helping you find love, Jaehyun accidentally amplifies his own buried feelings—the very ones he swore he’d left behind. As he's desperately hoping his magic wears off before you notice, Jaehyun can’t help but worry that you’ll think he’s sabotaging your chances at love simply because he can’t let you go just yet.

MATCHMAKER & HIS CLIENT × cupid ! jaehyun x f ! reader

🗒️ › THE GUIDELINES ⟡ cupid au, exes2lovers, second chance, pining, slowburn(ish), fluff, angst ( ? ), crack

PRECAUTIONS ノ jaehyun absolutely being a nervous but almost lovesick mess 👍, playful bickering, a bit of jealousy?, teasing (#you’llfindthemainculprits), some denial and i believe that’s really it! ( FEAT. all of boynextdoor as CUPIDS! )

WORD COUNT ────── 25.9K+ ( 25907 WORDS ) !

𓊆 🗯️ 𓊇 CUPID’S RULES ✶ happy (late) valentines to you all ♡ !! this WAS supposed to be released on vday, but i lost track of time and was busy playing cupid for my friend so 😖 (rhin can confirm) special thank yous to alya, rhin, and lili !! alya & rhin my main people that i gave them sm updates (i know they were tired of me always saying my new wcs for this…) and lili being an amazing motivator for this as i was trying (more like stressing) to get this out as soon as possible… SO this fic definitely holds a special place in my heart & i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i did :] !! again, happy month of love ♡

🏹 ────── PLAYLIST LINKED IN ‘STUPID CUPID!’

RULE #1: Remember and Follow the Cupid Handbooks

Being a Cupid comes with its perks—the ability to make people fall within seconds—but it also carries a weird curse: struggling to find love for yourself. It’s ironic, really. How could one in charge of creating love stories be so helpless when it comes to their own? 

So, if there’s one rule every Cupid should know, it’s to avoid getting tangled up in love themselves. 

Jaehyun knew that better than anyone. He didn’t spend countless nights studying Cupid Handbooks just to break the most clear but unspoken rule in the book. But, when constantly exposed to love—causing romantic connections and having soulmates find each other—could he really be blamed for wondering what it might feel like to fall too? 

Jaehyun hated the idea of him doing something so forbidden—he knew his limits, had always known them, and he has never been so set on keeping himself within them. But the more time he spent practicing his spells and shooting his heart arrows, the more he felt himself daydreaming. Even during his shifts, he kept catching himself drifting off to the thoughts of what he wanted in a relationship. 

His imagination that led to his hopeless scenarios had him wanting love. Not just any kind of love, though. 

Jaehyun wanted to find love the natural way. No use of his magic. No arrows. No shortcuts. It was interesting, given the fact his abilities could naturally make the person he wanted to fall for him. But with the amount of time he spent in this field, all he wants is to be able to feel things everyone else would’ve if no one interfered with their love life. 

He wanted something genuine. 

He wanted to experience all the little things—interlocking fingers and swinging arms during a late-night walk—and plan romantic gestures and dates that would leave someone speechless. He wanted to laugh until his cheeks hurt because of the joy someone else brought into his life—someone that he could call his partner. 

It was so human, really so simple. Yet for someone like him, it was out of bounds and strictly off-limits. His magic was meant for others, not himself. Still, the thought lingered, nestled deep within him.

Even though it seemed forbidden, Jaehyun couldn’t stop himself from wondering: wouldn’t it be worth it, just once, to know what it felt like? It could be a good experience, he told himself, a lesson in understanding what he had been helping others achieve for so long.

And against all odds—or perhaps because of them—his fantasies became his reality. For the first time, Jaehyun found himself in a relationship. His first one ever. Everything he had imagined, all the sweet little moments he dreamed of, unfolded before him. Late-night walks, planned romantic dates, and laughter that left his cheeks sore were everything he’d wished for.

It was perfect. Almost too perfect, as if the universe was teasing him with a fleeting glimpse of something he could never fully keep.

If only he had known how it would all end. If only someone had stepped in to shatter his hopeless fantasies before they took place. Maybe then he wouldn’t have fallen so hard.

Maybe then he wouldn’t have become the hopeless mess he is now.

It wasn’t that he regretted the relationship—not entirely. The memories were precious, the kind he would carry with him forever. But who could have guessed how much a first love could change a person? That those bubbly feelings he felt would be so short-lived and immediately replaced with nothing but guilt? 

Unless, of course, Jaehyun was just a hopeless romantic, unable to let go of his first love. Maybe that was his problem all along—he clung to the memory of it, replaying every moment like a song he couldn’t stop humming. Or maybe it was simply a part of the consequences of not following the Cupid’s rule—avoid getting tangled up in love. 

It’s as if once a Cupid gets out of love, that emptiness will forever stick, and yet there would be no attempt to fill it up again. Instead, it simply lingers over like a shadow that would never disappear. 

Even with his so-called tragic attempt at love, Jaehyun refuses to let it interfere with his performance as a Cupid. If anything, he tries to hide it, and it only fuels his dedication to helping others find what he couldn’t. It helped him so much to the point that he even opened his own matchmaking business in the human world—a thriving one at that. 

For Jaehyun, it’s much easier to act like the one who steps into someone’s life at just the “right” moment, soon setting them up with their perfect match disguised as a human. With him constantly surrounded by success and purpose, he was able to effortlessly complete his tasks at a quick pace and climb up the ranks. His undercover Cupid life was truly working in his favor. 

For once, it seems like everything was finally working for Jaehyun. 

And that was all he ever wanted. 

RULE #2: Help anyone — everyone deserves love. 

It was a typical day for Jaehyun if he was holed up in his office, scrolling through the reviews on his website. A satisfied grin tugged at his lips as he skimmed through the comments praising his flawless love advice and unmatched ability to set up the perfect soulmate-worthy dates. 

“Jaehyun!” Woonhak’s voice burst through the quiet room, startling Jaehyun to jolt upright, abandoning the relaxed posture he’d settled into moments before. “You’ve got new clients!” 

The door swung open, and in walked Woonhak, his assistant, with a stack of papers that balanced in his arms. He remained completely oblivious to the sharp glare Jaehyun shot his way, too caught up in his excitement—or perhaps too used to his expressions to care. 

“It would be better if you just entered the room without yelling like that,” Jaehyun muttered, watching as Woonhak approached his desk and plopped down the heavy stack of papers.

“You just get scared too easily,” Woonhak teased, dragging out the last word as if to further test Jaehyun’s patience. Despite the playful jab, his grin never faltered. He nudged the papers closer, clearly expecting Jaehyun to skim through them quickly so he could set up the appointments and get back to whatever mischief he had planned for the day.

Jaehyun chose to ignore his teasing, snatching up the papers and flipping through the stack as fast as he possibly could. Meanwhile, Woonhak let out a low whistle, tapping his fingers on his thighs as his eyes wandered around the room to fulfill his few minutes of boredom. 

With Jaehyun looking back at Woonhak every so often, his attention soon landed on the white wings peeking out from Woonhak’s back. 

“And hide those winds before someone walks in here and thinks you’re an odd person.” He pointed in their direction, giving it a small look. 

Woonhak immediately twisted his body, trying to get a glimpse of the wings, only to end up spinning in an awkward loop. Jaehyun let out a chuckle at the ridiculous sight, shaking his head before returning to the customer requests sprawled out in front of him.

“I had to help Taesan with his mission. Cut me some slack,” Woonhak huffed, hurriedly tucking his wings out of sight—even though it was just him and Jaehyun in the room.

“Besides,” he added, straightening up and crossing his arms, “I’d be diligent enough not to get caught looking like this in front of a human.”

Jaehyun raised his eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Uh-huh. Like you never had something like this happen on numerous occasions.” 

Woonhak opened his mouth to argue but quickly shut it, his lips pressing into a thin line as he suddenly remembered a few of the times that almost led him to exposing his true identity. 

“Just focus on looking through these so I can go back to work before someone calls for me again,” Woonhak grumbled under his breath, leaving Jaehyun unbothered to even hide the small smirk he had. 

“Yeah, yeah—” Jaehyun started, his words trailing off the moment his eyes landed on a familiar name.

L/N Y/N.

For a moment, the room felt smaller, and the papers in his hands suddenly heavier. He stared at your name, unable to move past it, as if seeing it in print made it all too real.

He almost felt as if he was being physically dragged down, feeling the weight of such a familiar yet unfamiliar name crush him. 

His heart felt like it was sinking. 

Snapping out of it, Jaehyun quickly slid the paper out of the stack, slipping it aside like it didn’t exist. But before he could fully hide it, Woonhak’s sharp eyes caught his movement.

Woonhak slid the paper back in front of Jaehyun, his eyes narrowing in confusion at Jaehyun’s sudden action. 

“What?”

“Uh, I don’t think I can take this applicant,” Jaehyun replied a little too quickly, pushing the paper aside once more. 

“What’s wrong with this one?” he pressed, sliding the paper back yet again and this time keeping his hands firmly placed on it. Woonhak couldn’t seem to let it go that easily. He leaned in, squinting as he tried to make the words on the page from his view. “See something that goes against our policies?” 

“It’s not that—” Jaehyun paused, the sudden thought of him technically being the one that went against Cupid’s "policies.”

Avoid getting tangled up in love. 

The same phrase that haunted him echoed in his head, almost threatening to bring him back to the phase where he felt everything was going wrong. But he quickly shook it off—he had to. Now wasn’t the time for him to dwell on his past actions. He needed an excuse—any excuse. 

His eyes darted to the description you’d provided at the bottom of the application, scanning the words as fast as he could.

“They just seem... bland?” he blurted out, scrambling for an explanation. “Like they don’t actually want our services. Feels like a waste of time, honestly.”

Woonhak tilted his head before flipping the paper around, finally taking the time to read it properly. He hummed softly, nodding as if he agreed, and Jaehyun let out the smallest sigh of relief—until Woonhak abruptly stopped.

His expression shifted, brows furrowing deeply as his eyes darted back and forth between the paper and Jaehyun. 

“Since when did you, out of all Cupids, opt out of helping a client find love?”

“I mean…you saw the paper yourself!” Jaehyun stammered, trying to say anything to seem valid with his reasoning. He could feel the heat rising to his face, and no matter how hard he tried to keep calm, his words kept fumbling. This was spiraling fast—faster than he wanted it to. Instead of seeming like the confident, professional Cupid he prided himself on being, Jaehyun felt like a deer caught in headlights.

“The Jaehyun I know wouldn’t turn anyone away,” he stated clearly, folding his arms. “So, you? The Cupid who preaches about ‘love being for everyone,’ rejecting a client because they seem odd with their reasoning?”

Jaehyun didn’t know what to say—matter of fact, he didn’t want to say it. He had no comeback—no witty excuse to hide behind. Honestly, how could he possibly explain the truth? That he didn’t follow the very rules designed to keep Cupids professional? 

How was he supposed to bring up the fact that he had a deeper connection to you than other humans? 

That it was what he’s been wanting to avoid even remembering for the longest time? 

Jaehyun’s stomach churned, the thought looming over him greater than before. With falling in love as a Cupid seems to go against their morals, Jaehyun would absolutely forbid himself from telling someone he had gone against it. 

No one could know. Not even Woonhak, one of the very few he trusted the most. 

Nothing could deter Jaehyun from believing that this guilt should be only carried by himself. Otherwise, who knows what could happen to him if the word got out that he did something “bad”? 

Because if they found out? Suspension would be the least of his problems. He could be stripped of his powers, exiled from this world, or worse—losing his powers as a Cupid. 

Regardless of what punishments there could be out there, Jaehyun was not planning on getting into any of them. 

Jaehyun clenched his jaw, forcing himself to hold Woonhak’s gaze. “Can I just say...the vibes are... off?” Jaehyun managed to murmur, putting on a hopefully convincing look. However, Jaehyun even thought he wouldn’t be convinced by his own excuse with Woonhak towering over him, trying to analyze his true intentions. 

“Is there something you don’t want to tell me?” his voice was still laced with suspicion; however it was softer than it was before. 

Jaehyun felt the weight of Woonhak’s stare, and for a split second, he debated keeping the truth buried. But the tension in the room was suffocating, and if he didn’t give Woonhak something—anything—it might only make things worse.

It could at least make him feel a bit better in this situation. 

“Okay…well,” Jaehyun began, his voice wavering as he struggled to find the right words. “It’s someone I used to know. Someone I—” He paused, catching himself before saying too much. “—someone I haven’t spoken to in a while. I just... I don’t want to mess things up for them.”

Woonhak tilted his head, his brows furrowing slightly, but he nodded as if to show he understood. “So it’s personal?”

“Kind of,” Jaehyun admitted, his gaze shifting down to the paper that now felt like it was burning a hole in his desk. “I just think it’d be better if someone else handled it.”

“Alright,” Woonhak finally said, stepping back slightly. Hearing that, Jaehyun could’ve sworn he let out a huge exhale of air he didn’t even realize he’d been holding.

Relief flooded through him, but it was short-lived. Woonhak reached out, gathering the stack of papers—including yours—and Jaehyun’s eyes lingered on them longer than he meant to.

That’s when it hit him.

You applied. You. To find someone new?

Before he could fully process it, Woonhak’s footsteps snapped him out of his spiral. He abruptly turned back before reaching the door, making Jaehyun’s shoulders tense up all over again.

“But if no one takes this application,” Woonhak said with a grin, “you’re going to have to handle it no matter what.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened. “Wait, what?”

“She applied for you to help her, didn’t she?” Woonhak grinned, clearly enjoying the panic written all over Jaehyun’s face. “Cupid rules!” 

And before Jaehyun could even form a response, Woonhak was gone, shutting the door behind him within an instant. 

Jaehyun slumped back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as the words echoed in his head.

She applied for you to help her. 

For the first time ever, Jaehyun had never felt a stronger urge to break Cupid’s rules.

Just for his own sake. 

RULE #3: Focus on the Present, Not the Past

It didn’t take long for Jaehyun to realize that Woonhak had only been joking and that no such rule actually existed. Honestly? He was relieved—especially after mustering up the courage to ask Riwoo a series of awkward and borderline ridiculous questions. Poor Riwoo had been forced to sit through Jaehyun’s rambling without even understanding why he was so worked up.

According to Riwoo, applications were simply sent and put on hold until someone willingly picked up the task. It didn’t have to be Jaehyun—thankfully. That small piece of information lifted a massive weight off his shoulders, allowing him to breathe easier for the first time since he’d seen your name on the paper.

And while the thought of leaving your application in someone else’s hands felt oddly conflicting, Jaehyun convinced himself it was for the best. You’d be taken care of soon, and he wouldn’t have to risk getting involved in your life again.

As cold as it might sound, Jaehyun knew his intentions were good. He wasn’t trying to be cruel—if anything, he was trying to protect you from not seeing him again, as maybe the sight of him could possibly hurt you too. 

That reassurance brought him an unexpected sense of peace, enough to push him back into focus. With his worries temporarily set aside, Jaehyun found himself performing better than he had in weeks, even earning a few more praises here and there.

It was more than enough for Jaehyun to be set right back on track. 

“Send the next client in,” Jaehyun spoke into the earpiece, his tone steady as he leaned back in his chair. He reached for a pen, idly tapping it against the surface of his desk while he waited.

“I’m on it,” Woonhak’s voice crackled through the line, followed by faint shuffling noises. Jaehyun could just barely make out Woonhak murmuring something to the next person in line, probably offering some last-minute reassurance before directing them inside.

Jaehyun straightened up as he heard the door creak open, forcing himself into professional mode. He plastered on a welcoming smile, just like he had practiced, ready to offer all the help he could give. 

“Welcome to—” he looked up, the grip on his pen faltering, nearly causing it to slip from his fingers. His lips slightly parted before continuing, “KOZ of Cupid.”

Out of all clients he could’ve seen today, why did it have to be you?

At first, you didn’t want to sign up for something like this. You preferred the more “natural” way of falling in love—the kind of story that felt straight out of a romance movie. Meeting someone in a cozy café, locking eyes with a stranger in a crowd, or stumbling upon someone at the wrong place but at the perfect time. That’s the kind of love you always dreamed about.

Although those kinds of wishes didn’t take you far within your love life. Those fleeting moments never seemed to lead to something more than casual, leaving you in a series of what-ifs and missed connections. So, here you were, making the decision you once swore you’d never make. 

But what you didn’t expect was seeing this. 

You froze the moment you stepped inside the office, your eyes locking with his as the realization sank in. Out of all the people who could’ve been behind this desk—out of all the Matchmakers people raved about—it just had to be him.

Your ex.

Well, maybe if you knew who he actually was prior to this, you would’ve probably avoided getting into this situation. 

Your body stiffened, your hand gripping the strap of your bag as if holding onto it could somehow ground you. He looked just as surprised as you, if not mortified. 

“Cupid MJ…?” you finally asked, your voice laced with disbelief as you eyed the nameplate on his desk. “That’s you?”

Jaehyun swallowed hard, his hand instinctively reaching up to rub the back of his neck. Despite having gone by the alias for what felt like an eternity, hearing it come out of your mouth suddenly made it sound ridiculous.

“Yeah…” he muttered, his voice softer than usual. “That’s me.”

“I see...” you trailed off awkwardly, already hating the steps you took to be caught in this kind of predicament. 

“Well, take a seat, won’t you?” Jaehyun finally broke the silence, gesturing toward the chair he’d carefully positioned in front of his desk. You nodded stiffly, your legs carrying you forward as if on autopilot, each step feeling heavier than the last.

You weren’t sure what shocked you more—seeing Jaehyun again after all this time or realizing he was now running a matchmaking business, posing as some kind of modern-day Cupid...now in charge of your love life. 

The only difference is that he's no longer a part of it—not in that kind of way. 

“It’s been a long…time since we last saw each other,” you managed to say as you took a seat. Your eyes fell into your lap, unable to meet his gaze face-to-face after all this time. It felt unnatural given how you two were practically strangers who used to be lovers, now meeting up together in the same room. “I didn’t know you were doing this kind of thing now.” 

Jaehyun wasn’t surprised by your reaction. He had expected this to throw you off—how could it not? After all, back then, he’d practically put his cupid duties on pause to be with you. He left it all in Riwoo’s hands just so he could experience what love felt like firsthand.

And for a while, it was perfect.

But now? Now, he was just a matchmaker, and you were just another client sitting across from his desk, needing his help. You two were not on boyfriend-girlfriend terms anymore, so Jaehyun had no choice but to snap out of it. 

“It has been,” he finally replied, forcing a polite smile despite the tightening in his chest. “I never would’ve expected to see you again—especially not here. And definitely not in this... field of love.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh, nodding your head. “Yeah, well…change of plans, I guess.”

Jaehyun also nodded, but his mind was already spiraling. Change of plans? To make things fair, he hasn’t seen you in a while—it’s been a good year or two of him avoiding crossing paths with you. 

“Getting back on topic, I assume you’ve already gone through our website?” Jaehyun asked, his tone shifting to something more professional as he turned his attention to the computer beside him. His fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, typing your name into the database.

“Well… could there be anything I missed besides setting up this appointment with you?” you asked, hoping your rushed application hadn’t left out anything important.

“It actually looks like you didn’t fill out the section about what you’re looking for in a future partner.” Jaehyun frowned slightly, refreshing the page a couple of times as if expecting the missing information to magically appear. “Huh. That’s odd…”

“There was a form for that?” you asked, genuine confusion lacing your voice.

Jaehyun hummed in response, his eyes still fixed on the screen. “Yeah. It’s part of the application process. You must’ve skipped over it.”

You sat back in your chair, trying to piece together the memory of filling out the form. “I probably did. I was kind of in a rush when I submitted it,” you admitted, already cringing at how careless you’d been. It was supposed to be something quick—just something to get your friends off your back about your ‘tragic’ love life. 

“Well, don’t worry about it.” Jaehyun reached for the drawer beside him, pulling out a clipboard and sliding a clean sheet of paper into the clip. “I have a physical copy you can fill out instead.”

He handed it to you along with a pen, prompting you to take it without hesitation. Your eyes quickly scanned the questions on the form, and almost immediately, you felt like you were being put on the spot. The questions were more personal than you expected—asking about values, expectations, and even deal-breakers—but you pushed through, determined to finish it as quickly as possible.

The silence in the room only made the process feel longer. You could feel Jaehyun’s occasional glances, though he tried to keep himself preoccupied with the computer screen in front of him. It was as if he was pretending not to notice how much effort you were putting into answering the questions—questions he already knew the answers to, at least back then.

After what felt like an eternity, you were able to finish the last question, settling the clipboard down with a soft thud. 

“All done?” 

“Yeah,” you replied, sliding the clipboard back across his desk. “Sorry, that took so long. Some of the questions were…very detailed.” 

Jaehyun let out a small laugh, picking up the clipboard and flipping through the pages to make sure you didn’t skip over anything accidentally. “It’s supposed to be thorough. The more detailed your responses are, the better we can find the match for you.”

You nodded, though the idea of him—or anyone—reading through your answers felt a bit humiliating. Even if you regretted it, there was really no coming back from this now. But Jaehyun’s silence couldn’t help but worry you, making your stomach churn. 

“Okay, it looks like you filled out everything,” he said, placing the clipboard down in front of him. “We should be able to get you set up with a match that fits what you’re looking for.” 

You didn’t have an answer, so you simply nodded, forcing a small, polite smile even as the tension in the room lingered.

“That’s all for today’s session,” Jaehyun said, leaning back slightly as if to signal the end of your meeting.

“Really? That’s it?” you asked in surprise. 

“Considering how you forgot to fill that part, I can’t do much more than make you wait until our next session to find you a match,” he replied. “I’ll have Cupid KW set up the next appointment for you when I’m all settled.” 

“Oh right…” Your voice barely rose above a murmur as you stood up, sliding the chair back under the desk carefully before you left. You hesitated at the door, your hand hovering over the handle before instinctively turning back to him.

“Thank you, Jaehyun—” You froze, quickly correcting yourself. “I mean, Cupid MJ.” The slip-up made you cringe internally—you certainly weren’t on the terms to be addressing him like that. You didn’t choose to stick around long enough to explain or even see his reaction. Instead, you hurriedly added, “Have a nice day,” before stepping out and pulling the door closed behind you.

Jaehyun barely managed a “You too,” but his voice was low, almost drowned out by the soft click of the door shutting. Letting out a quiet sigh, Jaehyun shifted his focus back to the clipboard you left behind, flipping through the pages filled with your handwriting.

Jaehyun? It was nice to hear that name from you again. But he hated how much he missed hearing it. 

It had been so long, and yet it still sounded so familiar—so warm, as if it provided a sense of comfort to him. It was as if he was transported back to the past, the time where he had known everything about you. 

He scanned through your answers carefully, noting every detail you had written down. As he continued to flip through the pages, he wore a faint, bitter smile, noticing how clear everything was. 

It was silly to think about reconnecting, wasn’t it? Silly to even let himself reminisce about what everything once was.

Everything you seem to want now—the qualities and expectations—no longer reflects who Jaehyun was. But what should he expect? That you would still want someone like him? 

He was only someone you had once wanted. 

Now, he’s just a stranger with a familiar name. 

RULE #4: Act Fast; a Client is Top Priority

“Where’s Woonhak?” Jaehyun suddenly asked, his eyes narrowing as Leehan walked in carrying a stack of papers instead of the usual face he expected to see every day.

“He told me Sungho called for him for the day,” Leehan replied, setting the papers down on Jaehyun’s desk with the same precision Woonhak typically would. “So, I took over his spot.”

Jaehyun barely held back a groan. Of course, Woonhak wouldn’t be here today. If he was, Jaehyun would’ve made sure he didn’t leave this office without a long lecture—or a few cuts and bruises, if Jaehyun felt like being dramatic. Technically, this entire mess was Woonhak’s fault—for lying and, even worse, allowing you in on the day Jaehyun could’ve least expected it.

It would’ve been easier if Jaehyun had some kind of warning. Just a heads-up that you’d be walking through those doors.

“So, these are the correct ones, right?” Jaehyun asked, forcing himself to focus as he looked through the papers.

“Yes, Woonhak taught me,” Leehan confirmed, glancing at him like he could already tell where Jaehyun’s mind was drifting. “And don’t worry. I’m only unlucky when it comes to using my powers, not simple tasks like these.”

Jaehyun let out a sharp exhale, giving Leehan a pointed look. “Let’s hope so.”

“You seem to have a lot on your mind,” Leehan said, tilting his head slightly as he studied Jaehyun’s expression.

“Me?” Jaehyun scoffed, feigning indifference as he leaned back in his chair. “I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Leehan replied, clearly unconvinced. “That’s why you’ve been staring at the same paper for the last five minutes.”

Jaehyun blinked, glancing down at the form in his hand. He hadn’t even realized he hadn’t turned the page.

“It’s nothing,” Jaehyun muttered, flipping the sheet over as if that would somehow prove his point.

Leehan didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press further either. Instead, he slid another set of files across the desk.

“Well, whatever it is, try not to let it mess up your matchmaking,” Leehan said with a shrug. “Clients tend to notice when you’re distracted.”

Jaehyun let out a small, humorless laugh. “Funny to hear that from you, Leehan.”

“A few mishaps doesn’t mean I can’t read you clearly,” Leehan hummed, pausing briefly at the door. “You’re bad at hiding it.”

Jaehyun opened his mouth to retort, but Leehan was already gone, leaving him alone with nothing but the faint echo of his words.

His gaze soon shifted to the glowing computer screen, displaying one of your most compatible matches. The person seemed to perfectly align with the preferences you listed—which is a good thing—yet Jaehyun’s chest seemed to tighten the longer he stared at it. 

Jaehyun loves his job, and yet he can’t help but wonder how his situation became like this. 

It’s just funny how he has to be the one to set you up with someone else. 

“You found me a match already?” you exclaimed, your eyes widening as Jaehyun quietly sipped his hot chocolate. He gave a small nod, barely looking up from the swirling steam rising from his cup.

“Yeah, it was easy to find some candidates,” he replied, his voice steady but his expression unreadable. He was bundled up in layers, his scarf wrapped snugly around his neck, yet he still seemed cold despite having been in the café for over ten minutes.

“Are you sure these are good ones?” you asked, trying not to sound doubtful but failing miserably. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Jaehyun’s judgment—you did—but the process felt almost too fast. Weren’t matches supposed to take time? Shouldn’t there be more thought put into something like this?

“I don’t have good reviews under my website for no reason,” Jaehyun said with a small, proud smile as he set down his cup. He seemed confident, which seemed to reassure you. 

You pressed your lips together, unsure how to respond. Maybe you were overthinking this, or maybe it was just nerves. But a tiny part of you couldn’t help but wonder if Jaehyun was rushing this—if he was just trying to get it over with.

Would this—you—even matter to him? 

“Right,” you still managed to say while your thoughts spiraled, forcing a smile as you leaned back in your chair. “I guess I’ll just have to trust the expert, huh?”

“Speaking of me being an expert, your match should be appearing soon,” Jaehyun said casually, his words suddenly shifting the calm mood into something else. 

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait—what?”

Before you could even process what he meant, Jaehyun stood up, eyes glued to his phone, as if this were the most natural thing in the world. “His name is Heeseung, by the way.”

“Heeseung?” you repeated, panic rising in your voice. “Jaehyun, wait!”

But he didn’t wait. He didn’t even turn back. 

It felt almost too familiar. 

Instead, he gave you a quick, dismissive wave before disappearing toward the café door.

You sat frozen in your chair, your heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your ears. 

A match. An actual, real match. And he was about to walk in any second now.

You glanced around nervously, suddenly hyperaware of every person in the café. You stared at everyone that walked in your direction, seemingly holding onto your breath. 

You didn’t even know who this guy looked like—this was practically a blind date. 

Your hands clenched around your cup. What were you even supposed to say?

You hadn’t been on a date in so long, and the fact that this one was unplanned made it feel so much worse. 

“Y/N, is it?”

The voice pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. You looked up, meeting the gaze of the man standing in front of you.

It was Heeseung.

With you exchanging awkward greetings with Heeseung, it was obvious you weren’t the only one feeling nervous. His stiff smile and the way he shifted in his seat mirrored your own unease, but at least the tension was mutual.

Meanwhile, Jaehyun remained outside the café, positioned just far enough to avoid suspicion but close enough to keep an eye on the two of you. From his view, things seemed to be going well—or at least not terribly wrong.

Setting down the hot chocolate cup he had brought with him, it was time. Now came the moment Jaehyun had been waiting for. This was where his real work began—the part that set his matchmaking business apart from the rest.

Looking around to make sure the coast was clear, Jaehyun swiftly turned himself invisible, the faint shimmer of his form disappearing as he reached into his bag. Humming softly, his fingers brushed against each arrow, carefully inspecting for any marks or scratches. He settled for one of the newer arrows—the ones Woonhak brought in weeks ago. 

As his selected arrow radiated a faint glow of enchantment, Jaehyun was satisfied with his choice. He drew in a steady breath, positioning himself not too far from you two. Raising the bow, he aligned it to his target, Heeseung, who was sitting across from you. 

Adjusting his stance, Jaehyun closed one eye, lining up the perfect shot. The goal was simple—strike Heeseung’s heart and make him lovestruck. It was Cupid’s mission, after all.

With his grip steady, Jaehyun murmured a small incantation under his breath, the magic swirling gently around the arrow. This was the moment where everything would change—Heeseung would feel unexpectedly bubbly inside as his romantic feelings intensified. 

All he had to do was shoot. 

Just as Jaehyun was about to release the bowstring, a sudden, chaotic noise erupted behind him—a crash of metal and hurried footsteps disturbed him. Jaehyun flinched, his head immediately snapping toward the source of the sounds. In that split second, his grip faltered, the arrow slipping from his grasp. 

Before he could even react, the faint hum of magic pulsed through, a streak of shimmering pink light quickly disappearing into thin air. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered under his breath, a stream of barely audible curses following as he frantically looked around his surroundings for the arrow and the disturbance. Oddly enough, whatever—or whoever—caused the noise was nowhere within his sight, leaving him in silence. 

But there was no time for him to investigate. He had to shift his focus back to you and Heeseung, ignoring the strange feeling in his chest—possibly from the scare and the sudden aftermath of his mistake. 

That’s when the feeling seemed to hit him. 

Jaehyun’s eyes naturally gravitated to you, and suddenly, everything around him seemed to blur. His vision tunneled, examining the way there was suddenly almost a shimmering light that radiated from you. It seemed to grow brighter every time he noticed something about you—every second seemed precious to him. 

He tried blinking, but it only got worse, his eyes unable to peel away from you. 

It was odd. 

Did he... miss you that much? That it was only starting to really hit him now? 

But right now? He had to get over you. At this time, he couldn’t afford to get distracted—the mission was most important, after all. 

Clenching his jaw, Jaehyun forced himself to look away, reaching for another arrow to correct his mistake.

But the moment his gaze dropped, his breath hitched.

There, in the center of his shirt, was the pink stain—not on the ground, not on an arrow, but on him.

Panic bloomed in his chest, his pulse quickening by the second. The bow fell to the floor as his hands grasped at the fabric, pulling it to examine the stain more closely. The sparkly glow was enough to tell him everything he needed to know. 

“No, no, no-" Jaehyun muttered under his breath, frantically rubbing at the fabric. It was completely useless. The stain didn’t smear or lift, but instead, it shrank. 

It sunk deeper into the fibers of his shirt—no, into him. The glow started to dim with every passing second until it was no longer visible, leaving Jaehyun frozen, his fingers still gripping onto the fabric. 

Jaehyun swallowed hard, his eyes flicking back toward you. 

This wasn’t right.

The sound of your voice was faint but warm, making his pulse race even more despite him setting you on a date with Heeseung. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. 

 The pounding of his heart was deafening, drowning out the noise around him. Jaehyun bolted from where he was, his footsteps quick but unsteady as he pressed a trembling hand against his chest.

What had he done?

RULE #5: Don’t Mess Around with Cupid Powers

Jaehyun couldn’t stop feeling the need to constantly pace around his room. His footsteps echoed softly against the wooden floor as he ran a hand through his hair for what felt like the hundredth time.

Your text message sat open on his phone screen, glowing back at him. It was nothing more than a casual update—how the date went and how Heeseung seemed nice—but it still managed to make him smile.

That was the problem.

Jaehyun’s fingers tightened around the phone as he muttered to himself, his words shaky but firm. “You’re her matchmaker, not her match.”

But no matter how many times he repeated it, the words fell flat. It was a reminder that couldn’t seem to get through in his head. His own logic wasn’t enough to drown out the emotions that had begun creeping in ever since that arrow misfired.

It was wrong. He knew it was wrong—especially now that your date with Heeseung seemed to go well. That should’ve been enough to push Jaehyun back into reality, but instead, it only made the ache in his chest worse.

“You called for me?”

The voice snapped Jaehyun out of his trance, and he practically lunged toward the door the moment he saw Sungho step inside. Relief flooded through him so intensely that he didn’t even think twice before grabbing Sungho by the arms, gripping him like a lifeline.

“Whoa—what’s up with you?” Sungho’s brows shot up, his eyes scanning Jaehyun’s disheveled appearance. His face was flushed, his hair was a mess, and he looked like he’d been running a marathon inside the room. “You look…weird.”

Jaehyun immediately let go, straightening his posture in an attempt to look normal. But his attempt was useless. His jittery hands and the way his eyes darted back and forth only made him look more suspicious.

“Would you mind helping me?” Jaehyun blurted out, his voice almost cracking.

Sungho crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed. “I mean, that’s literally why I’m here,” he replied, walking past Jaehyun and flopping onto the couch without hesitation. “You don’t usually act like this. What’s up with you?”

Jaehyun trailed behind him, struggling to keep himself composed as he hovered nervously by the couch. He hated how out of character this was for him—desperate and completely unfocused. He wanted it to stop, but the way his mind kept racing and his heart refused to calm down made it nearly impossible to pull himself together.

Jaehyun cleared his throat, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “So, uh... hypothetically speaking—emphasis on hypothetically,” he stressed, his eyes flickering toward Sungho as if silently begging for reassurance. “Is it possible for a Cupid to, you know… seriously mess up with their powers?”

Sungho raised an eyebrow, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to concern. “That depends,” he said slowly. “What kind of mistake are we talking about here?”

“Well…” Jaehyun hesitated, his voice trailing off before he forced himself to continue. “Like, let’s say something happened—not saying it did, but let’s say it could—where a Cupid accidentally misfired an arrow?”

Sungho hummed thoughtfully, leaning back against the couch. “I mean, it’s not unheard of. Look at Leehan, for example. The guy is completely unfortunate—broken arrows, broken couples, you name it. But his mistakes aren’t anything too difficult to fix.” 

‘Right, fixable. Totally,” Jaehyun nodded quickly, though his fingers continued to fidget against the fabric of his sleeves. “Right, right. But what if—again, hypothetically—a Cupid misfires their arrow on someone... that shouldn’t get hit?”

“Wait.” Sungho looked at Jaehyun, his gaze intensifying. “You did not—”

“I did not! Of course, I wouldn’t have!” Jaehyun cut in, his voice an octave higher than it usually was. “I mean, not exactly what you may think it is.” 

Sungho’s eyes widened as he sat himself up. “Jaehyun.” 

“Okay, okay!” Jaehyun caved, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Maybe I might have accidentally—sort of—shot myself.”

Sungho’s jaw dropped.

 “You what?!”

“I didn’t mean to!” Jaehyun blurted out, panic seeping into his voice. “There was this loud noise, and I got scared, and my hand slipped, and bam! I suddenly see pink liquid on my shirt that just quickly disappeared!”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me." Sungho dragged a hand to his mouth, visibly mortified that Jaehyun—out of all people—would get himself into a situation like this. “Turning your powers against yourself? Really?” 

“Was this why you asked me a bunch of questions about whether you had to take a client? Because it was about Y/N?”

Riwoo’s voice cut through the room, making both Sungho and Jaehyun jump—though it was Jaehyun who practically fled the couch with a yelp. His hand instinctively latched onto Sungho’s arm, eyes wide with panic as he spun around to face the unexpected intruder.

“Since when did you come in?!” Jaehyun demanded, pointing an accusatory finger at Riwoo, who looked thoroughly unimpressed.

Riwoo lifted the stack of files he carried as if the explanation was obvious. “Woonhak sent me,” he said, before casually walking over to Jaehyun’s desk to drop them off.

“Of course, Woonhak did,” Jaehyun muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples. “And you weren’t supposed to say that, Riwoo.”

“Oh,” Riwoo halted in his steps, soon turning to see Sungho with a puzzled look on his face. No matter how many times Sungho tried to think back on everything he remembered, the name wasn’t familiar to him at all. “I thought he knew.”

“What are we talking about—who is Y/N?” Sungho finally asked, almost as if it were excruciating while watching Jaehyun and Riwoo send each other odd but failed telepathy through the usage of their eyes and mumbling. 

“Jaehyun’s ex,” Riwoo quickly blurted out, leaving Jaehyun’s eyes widened in horror, his hand still in the air after shooting it up in an attempt to cover Riwoo’s mouth, but it was too late.

“Are you serious right now?” Jaehyun hissed, slowly dropping his hand in defeat. “I wouldn’t have told you about this if you were going to say it that easily.” 

“He had to know at one point—you can’t hide the fact that you tried to find love from us much longer,” Riwoo shrugged as he leaned against Jaehyun’s desk. “You could at least tell Sungho—he wouldn’t tell anybody... yet.” 

Next to him, Sungho sat in stunned silence, his mouth hanging open in shock. He blinked rapidly, his gaze darting between Riwoo and Jaehyun as if trying to process what he’d just heard.

“Y/N?” Sungho repeated, shaking his head as he pried Jaehyun’s arm off him. “So, you’re telling me, you managed to shoot yourself with your own arrow and ended up hopelessly in love with your ex again? That’s... really something else. Even for you.”

Jaehyun groaned, slumping back against the couch as he covered his face with both hands. “Don’t need to keep pushing it.”

Riwoo and Sungho exchanged a look, both struggling to suppress the fear but also the amusement threatening to creep onto their faces. It really was funny—at least to an extent.

After all, how could a Cupid be this careless? And not just careless—reckless. Jaehyun had managed to turn what should’ve been a simple matchmaking session into a full-blown catastrophe.

But what made it worse—what made it really ridiculous—was the fact that his eyes had landed on someone who was never supposed to be anything more than a client. Someone who had only walked through his doors looking for love and not to accidentally become the reason Cupid himself got caught up in this mess. 

“So, what did you feel when you saw her?” Sungho asked, making sure to check on his friend’s wellbeing. He had never been in this kind of situation before, so it wasn’t something he could instantly jump in and fix things like he usually would have. 

“It felt weird—it still does!” Jaehyun threw his hands up in the air. He paused, soon placing his hand on his chest as if he could physically do something to calm the irregular pounding of his heart. “Anything or everything that has to do with Y/N, it feels like—like I can’t think straight at all! It’s all about her!” 

“Were Cupid’s powers always this strong?” Riwoo questioned, eyebrows furrowed as he plopped onto the couch across from them. 

“I mean...” Sungho hesitated, leaning back as if running through possibilities in his head. “It could be different for humans—but he’s Cupid, after all. Who’s to say it wouldn’t affect him even worse than a human? What if it’s like... amplified?”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened, his panic rising again. “Amplified? Are you serious? So what—this could get even worse?”

“Well,” Riwoo started cautiously, “you did hit yourself with the arrow, so who knows what could possibly happen? Or how deep the arrow went? Nothing like this has happened before... or at least, not that we know of.” 

‘What am I supposed to do?” Jaehyun groaned, his thoughts completely all over the place. “She’s not just anyone; she’s my client! And I already set her up with someone else—who she seems to actually like, by the way! But I’m just here, losing my mind over something I really can’t control!” 

Sungho winced. “Well…”

“Please tell me this is fixable.” Jaehyun’s voice was muffled with his hands covering his face due to embarrassment. “There has to be something, or like, a time limit to these powers.” 

“That’s just something we have to figure out,” Riwoo said, trying to reassure him to the best of his abilities. “There has to be a way.”

Jaehyun really hoped Riwoo was right—he clung onto that hope. 

His phone had faintly buzzed with another notification, pulling his attention away. Unable to resist looking at it, he glanced to see another text from you lighting up the screen. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but reality was able to hit him quickly, considering his surroundings. His expression fell flat, which soon followed up with him clearing his throat. 

Jaehyun shut off his phone and threw it onto the table, as if putting some distance between himself and his phone could help keep himself normal. Slumping back into the couch, his shoulders sank as if the situation was starting to weigh heavily on his shoulders. 

This timing couldn’t have been any worse. His powers should’ve been reserved for only those he was assigned with to help them find love, not for him to accidentally turn himself into some lovesick person. 

“This better not be permanent,” Jaehyun muttered, staring into the ceiling while dealing with the thought of how terrifying that could be if his powers were to stick around. 

“For your sake, hopefully not.” Sungho said. “Because if it is... you might just be stuck with trying to make your client yours.” 

RULE #6: Don’t Run Away from Your Mistakes; Fix It.

“I’m not seriously going to be facing her, right?” Jaehyun blurted out, his voice laced with sheer panic as he threw his hands up in surrender. After the long, exhausting talk he’d just had with Riwoo and Sungho a while ago, this was the last thing he expected to hear. Guide you? Through this whole process? While he’s acting like this?

He can tell Sungho wasn’t pleased either, given the resigned expression he wore while telling him the news. But, with Sungho only able to give him a stiff nod, it hit Jaehyun like a brick wall—it was painfully obvious that they’d run into a dead end. 

Jaehyun’s shoulders slumped. “Can’t you just... take over for me?” His tone shifted into desperation as he tried to wriggle out of the mess he’d created. The last thing he wanted was to make a complete fool of himself in front of you. Though he couldn’t quite figure out if it was because he feared he wanted to impress you—or if it was just the crippling fear of acting weird in front of an ex.

“For someone who basically memorized every word of Cupid’s Handbooks,” Sungho said, rubbing the back of his neck as if he were already exhausted by Jaehyun’s antics, “I really thought you’d know better.”

Jaehyun froze, dread washing over him. He didn’t even need to ask to know where this was heading.

“What’s Rule #10?” Sungho pressed, narrowing his eyes.

Jaehyun let out a defeated sigh, his shoulders sinking further as he muttered under his breath, “Once a client... always your client.”

The words were as clear as day, but Jaehyun couldn’t help but feel like remembering that was bittersome. With how many hours he spent cooped up in his room remembering each page, he’d probably have ended up questioning his qualifications if he hadn’t.

But at this moment? He wished he didn’t know it. He wished the rule didn’t exist at all. 

“This isn’t fair,” Jaehyun groaned as he started pacing back and forth. He pressed his hands against the sides of his face as if doing so could somehow shut out the situation looming over him.

“You wouldn’t even be in this mess if you hadn’t been so fixated on Y/N,” Sungho sighed once again, although he seemed clearly unbothered by Jaehyun’s rising panic despite his behavior moments ago. 

Jaehyun spun around, glaring. “I was not fixated on her!” His voice came out sharper than he intended, defensive in a way that only made Sungho raise his brows. “I was actually committed to my mission, y’know—doing my job.”

“Right.” Sungho crossed his arms, leaning back as he fixed Jaehyun with an unimpressed look. “Then maybe you could’ve aimed the arrow at her instead of him.”

Jaehyun froze mid-step, caught off guard by the observation. The words lingered in the air as if waiting to pounce, and Jaehyun hated how they made his stomach churn.

Sungho didn’t miss the hesitation. “But you didn’t. Instead, you aimed to make him love-sick over her—not the other way around.”

Jaehyun’s eyes narrowed, his pacing halting completely as he faced Sungho. “What exactly are you trying to imply?”

“Oh, I think you already know,” Sungho said, his voice pointed as his gaze locked onto Jaehyun’s.

“Well, if anything—” Jaehyun snapped, his voice tight as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I don’t have any intentions like that! It’s over between us, and that should be pretty clear to you, given that I paired her up with someone else.”

“Sure, sure—it’s over,” Sungho says, not wanting to cause Jaehyun to be in another frenzy. He could feel his lip twitching, almost as if he wanted to smirk, but he chose to fight against it. There was no need to rile Jaehyun up, especially given the unfortunate circumstances. 

Sungho’s phone buzzed, and as he glanced down at the screen, his expression shifted. He pressed his lips into a thin line—a small but telling gesture that Jaehyun immediately picked up on. It was almost instinctual, his senses sharpening at the sight of Sungho’s hesitation.

“What is it?” Jaehyun demanded, his voice edged with suspicion.

Sungho hesitated, clearly weighing his words before finally speaking. “I know you really don’t want to do this,” he started cautiously, watching Jaehyun’s expression like it might shatter at any moment. "But... your next session with Y/N? It’s today.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened in disbelief, and Sungho quickly added, “Or, well—actually, it’s not just today. It’s right now.”

“Right now?!” Jaehyun practically choked, taking a step back as if the words physically hit him. “You can’t be serious! No one said anything about it being this soon!”

Sungho grimaced, his grip tightening around his phone. “I just found out too, okay? Woonhak’s the one who sent the notice. He said something about needing to keep everything on schedule.”

“Schedule?” Jaehyun repeated, his voice rising. “I didn’t even agree to this schedule!”

Sungho crossed his arms, clearly unimpressed with Jaehyun’s outburst. “Well, suck it up, because she could walk in at any moment.” He gave Jaehyun a pointed look, then added, “But don’t worry—I’ll be here to make sure you don’t say anything weird.”

Jaehyun shot him a sharp glare. “Oh, that’s reassuring,” he muttered sarcastically, finally deciding to sit on the couch as his nerves threatened to continue to overwhelm him. “You’re acting like I’m incapable of handling this.”

“You’re barely capable of handling this,” Sungho shot back without missing a beat. “I mean, look at you right now! You’re one bad thought away from a meltdown, and we both know it.”

Just as Jaehyun was about to say anything to defend himself, the sound of knocking echoed through the room. Both he and Sungho immediately froze, their eyes snapping toward the door. 

Compared to Sungho, Jaehyun could’ve sworn he felt like he stopped breathing. Sungho was able to recover a little quicker, while Jaehyun seemed to be stuck in a trance. 

“I guess it’s time,” Sungho whispered as if you could potentially hear him from the opposite side, turning to give Jaehyun the look. 

Jaehyun’s eyes wavered. "Wait—what do I even say? What if... what if I mess up?” He whispered, and even with his voice being low, it was hard to ignore that he was frantic. 

“And didn’t you just say you’re perfectly capable of handling this?” 

"Well, that was before this happened!” Jaehyun whisper-yelled, his eyes looking back at the door after hearing the knocking again—this time, slightly louder than it was before. 

“Either way, you’re going to have to face her,” Sungho said, already moving toward the door. He reached for the doorknob, but before turning it, he glazed back at Jaehyun. “Like I said, I’ll handle it if things go wrong—just focus on being able to not do anything out of the ordinary.” 

Jaehyun groaned, running his hands through his hair as Sungho finally opened the door. The second he saw you standing there, greeting Sungho due to his sudden appearance, Jaehyun felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

Quickly, he looked away, his gaze dropping to his hands as he fiddled nervously with his fingers, desperate to stop his thoughts from spiraling. 

This was going to be so much harder than he thought.

“Hi, Cupid MJ,” you greeted him with a bright expression as you stepped inside after Sungho had welcomed you in.

Jaehyun’s eyes flickered up at the sound of your voice, and despite every part of him screaming to stay composed, his lips almost instinctively curled into a smile. His eyes softened, crinkling at the corners in a way that felt far too natural—far too much.

“Hi, Y/N,” he replied, but the moment the words left his mouth, he froze. It sounded weird. Even to him, it sounded far too warm—too full of affection. 

His eyes widened slightly as he quickly brought a hand up to cover his mouth, as if that could somehow take back the tone he’d just used. His gaze darted nervously to Sungho, who was already staring at him with a raised eyebrow and the most frustratingly knowing look.

Jaehyun felt heat rush to his face as he let out a small, awkward cough, desperately trying to mask the slip-up. “Uh—take a seat,” he said, attempting to make his voice sound more neutral. 

“The date went well,” you said, your tone light as you took a seat. It was clear you were more than ready to lead the conversation—especially given Jaehyun’s stunned silence.

For a moment, he just blinked at you, his thoughts spiraling as he struggled to string together a proper response. It almost felt like the roles had reversed—him as the nervous client, fumbling and hopeless, while you sat there like the Cupid, who had quite literally struck him right in the heart.

“That’s… great,” Jaehyun finally managed to say, though his voice came out quieter than he’d hoped. He cleared his throat, trying to regain even a fraction of composure. “I mean, of course, it went well. I—I knew it would.”

You nodded, completely unaware that you were the one that was making him feel like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. 

"What happens now?" you asked, leaning in slightly as if searching for some kind of reassurance.

"Well," he began, clearing his throat. "You can continue spending more time with him since I received a positive response from him too." He paused briefly, gauging your expression before continuing. "Or, if you'd prefer, you can explore other matches—it’s entirely your pick."

You nodded slowly, your fingers absentmindedly brushing against the edge of the table. "I think I could do another day with him," you finally said, though there was an almost hesitant tone in your voice.

Jaehyun's stomach flipped. Was that hesitation good or bad?

"I mean," you added quickly, as if trying to fill the silence, "I’m not really sure about exploring other options just yet. What do you think?"

Jaehyun looked up at you, momentarily frozen as if the world around him had slowed down. He’d tried so hard to avoid this—to keep his emotions in check and his focus sharp—but the second his eyes locked with yours, all of that effort unraveled.

The soft pink hue that had surrounded you the first time he saw you seemed to return, blooming and spreading until it drowned out everything else. It wasn’t just a glow—it was a pull, one he felt himself leaning into despite knowing better.

"What do I think?” he finally managed, his voice quieter than usual, like he was afraid of saying the wrong thing.

“Yeah.” You tilted your head, waiting for his response, completely unaware of the turmoil raging inside him.

“I think...” he trails off, his heartbeat seemingly muffling the sound of his own voice to him. “I think I like–”

“What he means,” Sungho interrupted, sliding onto the seat next to Jaehyun as if to physically block him from saying anything reckless, “is that he thinks it’d be great for you to keep going out with Heeseung.”

Jaehyun flinched at the sudden pinch Sungho gave him, jolting him back to reality. He turned to glare at his friend, but Sungho’s pointed stare told him to pull it together.

You blinked, slightly taken aback by the abrupt response from Sungho rather than Jaehyun, but nodded anyway. “Oh…okay.”

“Right!” Jaehyun blurted out, sitting up straighter and forcing a strained smile. “I mean, Heeseung seems like a good match, and you said the first date went well, so another one makes sense, right?”

Your eyebrows slightly furrowed, confused by the sudden energy radiating from him. Even when you hesitated for a second, as if something about his words didn’t quite convince you, you decided to nod again. “I guess I could give it another try.”

Jaehyun forced a smile, an odd tightness in his chest that didn’t seem to disappear quickly. He should’ve felt relieved that he hadn’t slipped up—that he’d managed to steer you back toward Heeseung—but instead, he felt like he’d lost something.

“Great,” Sungho clapped his hands together, almost serving as a reminder to Jaehyun to focus. “We will be able to set you on another date soon, so please wait for our messages!” he said oddly cheerfully, though Jaehyun could tell it was mostly to smooth things over.

“Right,” Jaehyun added, his voice barely above a whisper.He bit his lip, forcing himself to look away from you after nearly confessing again. His heart wavered, almost betraying him, as he saw you turn your attention to Sungho, laughing at something he’d said.

You were smiling…because of Sungho.

“I’ll take care of the details,” Jaehyun suddenly interjected, clearing his throat loudly enough to grab both your and Sungho’s attention.

You blinked, surprised, but offered a small smile. “Oh, okay. I’ll leave it to you, then,” you replied, completely oblivious to the effect you were having on him. Just because of that small action of yours, his heart was practically close to actually bursting. 

Jaehyun gave a stiff nod, watching you turn to leave. The moment you stepped out, he found his gaze trailing after you, unable to pull his eyes away until the door finally clicked shut behind you.

“Geez, now you’re at the jealous stage of the love effect?” Sungho’s voice sliced through the lingering silence, pulling Jaehyun back to reality. He looked over to find his friend watching him with a knowing smirk, one brow raised. “That was pretty fast-paced."

“It’s not like I was trying to!” Jaehyun quickly snapped, his voice suddenly getting defensive. In frustration, he pointed at the door as he tried to find his words. “It’s because of—”

Before he could finish, the door abruptly swung open, revealing Woonhak, who stood there with a curious yet sunny expression. “How’d it go?” he asked, his gaze bouncing between Jaehyun and Sungho as if he’d walked in on something interesting.

Jaehyun groaned, throwing his hands up in exasperation before pointing aggressively at Woonhak, almost as if he were waiting for this moment. “It’s because of you!”

Woonhak blinked, confused. “Wait, what? Me?”

“Yes, you!” Jaehyun said, standing up from his chair and pointing with even more emphasis. “If it weren’t for—”

“Is this...my cue to go?” Woonhak interrupted, his confusion shifting into playful unease as he glanced between the two of them, already half-stepping back toward the hallway.

 Jaehyun let out a long, frustrated sigh, his eyes squeezing shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, it’s not your cue to go, because if you hadn’t accepted that application, I could’ve still been as capable and composed as I was before!”

The room fell into a heavy silence as nobody chose to speak up after that. Woonhak froze, glancing at Sungho with wide, pleading eyes, silently begging for backup. Sungho, on the other hand, looked like he had no clue what to do either to step in.

Before Sungho could even attempt to think of something to diffuse the situation, Jaehyun was already striding his way toward Woonhak. 

“Uh, Sungho?” Woonhak stammered, panic creeping into his voice as he instinctively began stepping back. Jaehyun’s footsteps grew faster, his expression dead set on making his point—whatever that point might be.

“Sungho!” Woonhak yelped, his voice rising as Jaehyun closed the distance between them, taking even more huge steps back. 

Realizing he was on his own, Woonhak made a split-second decision. “Help me!” he screamed, spinning on his heel and bolting toward the door.

“Get back here, Woonhak!”

Their footsteps echoed down the hallway, Woonhak’s panicked screams fading into the distance as Jaehyun’s determined shouts followed close behind.

Sungho quickly snapped out of his amused daze, only to burst into laughter at the absurdity of the situation. However, his grin vanished just as quickly as it appeared when a sudden realization hit him.

“Oh, crap. There could be other clients waiting!” he muttered, scrambling to his feet in a panic.

Without missing a beat, he darted toward the exit, slamming the door as he followed the trail of yelling that was growing fainter by the second.

“Jaehyun!” Sungho called out, his voice echoing through the hallway as he tried to catch up. “Leave Woonhak alone and get back here—this is just your fate!”

The sound of Woonhak’s panicked screams and Jaehyun’s relentless pursuit only made Sungho pick up his pace, muttering to himself between breaths. “Oh my, just accept your fate already!”

And no matter how much Jaehyun pleaded—to the Cupid Gods (if they even existed) or to the universe itself—for some miraculous way out of this fate, his prayers were met with nothing but silence. The crushing weight of disappointment settled on him, a constant reminder of just how trapped he was in this situation.

Now, only a few weeks later, here he was, hiding behind a newspaper in his hand, his breath held as he watched you sitting on a bench, waiting for your second date with Heeseung.

“Why am I even here?” Jaehyun mumbled to himself, his eyes still glued onto you from a safe distance. His tone was low, almost as if he were speaking to no one at all, but a hum of agreement quickly followed.

“I don’t know,” came the unenthusiastic reply from the person in front of him—Leehan, of all people. The sound of a crinkling newspaper accompanied his words, his fingers absently folding and unfolding the corner of the page.

“Matter of fact, why are you here?” Jaehyun whispered harshly, glaring at Leehan, who seemed entirely too relaxed for someone on the lookout, with his random sunglasses and his newspaper upside down. If anything, it would be obvious that Leehan could be up to something. 

Leehan leisurely lowered the newspaper he’d been pretending to read and set it down on the table in front of him, a small smirk playing at his lips. “Because Sungho and the others are busy with their own Cupid duties,” he began, crossing his arms over his chest as if he were getting ready for a sudden fit of frustration. “And Woonhak? Well, we all know you’d rip his head off if he even tried accompanying you. So, I have no choice but to be here with you.”

Jaehyun chose not to respond, letting out a heavy sigh as he rubbed his temples. Oddly enough, he has been able to keep his emotions in check since Leehan and the others have been around lately. They knew how far Jaehyun’s sudden love urges could progress, so they all took turns to be able to supervise both him and you. So, Jaehyun can’t even complain, as he would most likely be a nervous wreck around you.

But, if anything, he wasn’t the only nervous one. You were too, however, for entirely different reasons. Sitting just outside an amusement park—the chosen date spot for you and Heeseung—you fidgeted with your phone. The vibrant atmosphere around you was a stark contrast to the storm of emotions brewing inside. Laughter and excited chatter filled the air as families and couples hurried past you, their faces lit up with anticipation.

Could that be you and Heeseung? 

You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d have as much fun as everyone else seemed to be having. Would this date live up to your expectations? Or were you setting yourself up for disappointment?

Your gaze shifted from the bustling crowd back to your phone screen. No new messages. You checked the time again, your thumb hovering over the screen as if doing so would make a notification pop up.

This isn’t the first time you’ll be meeting Heeseung, but the idea of meeting him in person instead of texting was weird. You tried to calm down, forcing yourself to breathe deeply to steady the feeling of nerves coursing through you. This was supposed to be a fun hangout, and there was no point in thinking of useless questions. Yet, your feelings only continued to gnaw away at you, as with every passing minute, your uneasiness only heightened. 

You hated the thought of coming off as pushy, especially for something as delicate as a romantic date, but eventually, you found yourself sending follow-up texts.

The act itself felt humiliating, like you were clinging to something that might already be slipping through your fingers. Still, you had no choice. The silence on the other end was deafening.

But even after your attempts, there was nothing. No text. No call. 

Were you getting stood up? That thought finally hit you, and your heart couldn’t help but sink with an overwhelming heaviness. 

You swallowed back the lump forming in your throat, forcing yourself to sit straighter despite the weight in your chest. As much as you hated to admit it, the idea of Heeseung standing you up felt more and more like a reality with each passing second. 

Maybe love wasn’t meant for you at all. 

The world around you seemed to blur as your gaze dropped to your phone. For a moment, you stared at the empty message screen, your fingers trembling over the keyboard. It took everything in you to gather the courage to type out a text, but not to Heeseung this time.

Instead, you messaged Jaehyun.

"This date's a failure," you typed, hesitating before pressing send. 

You could only imagine how Jaehyun might feel reading such a message, especially considering the heaviness in your own chest. But should it really matter? He was a revolutionary matchmaker, after all, wasn’t he? There shouldn’t be anything that he couldn’t do, right? And yet, a strange pang of guilt crept into your thoughts. Why were you so concerned about how Jaehyun would react?

Even though you couldn’t fully understand your own emotions, one thing was clear—you still cared about him. Maybe a little too much. So, for just a split second, it didn’t seem unreasonable to think about his feelings over yours.

But with Jaehyun, your feelings were always his top priority. Well, they should be. 

The moment your message reached him, he immediately reacted, his lips pressing into a deep frown as he reread your words. Sitting beside him, Leehan noticed his sudden shift in mood and leaned closer; his curiosity piqued.

“What’s wrong?” Leehan asked, trying to peer over at Jaehyun’s screen. His own expression shifted as he caught a glimpse of the text, his eyes widening and his frown mirroring Jaehyun’s.

Jaehyun didn’t answer right away, his thoughts racing as he stared at your words. His chest tightened, a mixture of frustration and concern bubbling within him. You were upset—the thought of you feeling this way gnawed at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Jaehyun finally muttered, standing abruptly.

Leehan blinked up at him, startled. “Wait, what are you—”

But Jaehyun was already moving, his determination written all over his face. For the better or worse, he wasn’t going to let this ruin your day. 

“Y/N,” he called out as he jogged toward you, his voice cutting through the lively background noise from the amusement park. The sudden sound startled you, making you glance up from the message you’d been staring at. Seeing him right there—mere seconds after your text—felt both unnerving and oddly comforting.

It felt weird that someone—your ex, or better yet, simply just Cupid MJ—immediately came to your message. But you also felt a sense of gratitude, knowing that there was someone who would answer your message right away. 

At least someone cared enough to show up for you. 

“Jaehyun?” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, caught between disbelief and relief. You quickly stuffed your phone in your pocket, trying to compose yourself. “How’d you get here so fast?”

He came to a stop in front of you, still catching his breath but managing to keep his gaze steady on you. “I was already here,” he admitted, a slight edge of hesitance in his voice. “I was waiting for you and Heeseung to meet... so I could leave.” He shifted his weight awkwardly. “But then I got your text message.”

“Oh,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “Makes sense.” The words felt bitter as they left your lips, as though admitting them aloud made everything sting a little more.

Your fingers found the zipper of your jacket, and you began to fiddle with it, keeping your eyes trained on the ground. Meeting Jaehyun’s gaze felt impossible at that moment. The last thing you wanted was for him, of all people, to witness you in this state.

This was definitely humiliating, and nothing could convince you otherwise. 

Jaehyun could see and feel the weight of your emotions, a pang of guilt washing over him. Deep down, he wondered if this was somehow his fault for pairing you with someone who let you down. Maybe Cupid’s systems weren’t as reliable as he once believed. 

“You don’t have to feel embarrassed about this.”

His voice was soft, almost compelling you to look up at him, but you resisted, shaking your head and letting out a dry laugh. “That’s easy for you to say.”

Jaehyun caught on to how your body hunched over, shoulders curling inward like you were trying to hide from him—or maybe from yourself. Your legs kicked back and forth in a restless rhythm, a nervous energy that you didn’t seem to notice.

He caught the way you bit your lip, a small inhale slipping through before you stopped yourself from speaking. It was like you were fighting against the words you wanted to say, the weight of everything you felt pressing down on you but refusing to come out.

“Y/N,” he sighed, feeling his own heartache seeing you try to hide your vulnerability. Without hesitation, he stepped closer, crouching down in front of you. His head tilted slightly to be within your eye view, his expression open and earnest.

You stopped your foot movements and perked your head up just a little, catching a glimpse of the sincere smile on his face. His posture was relaxed, his arms wrapped casually around his knees, but his eyes truly told a different story from his demeanor. 

“Seriously, this is just his fault. If Heeseung couldn’t see what he had right in front of him, that’s his loss. It’s never been yours.”

His words caught you off guard, pulling your attention to him fully.

You looked directly at him, taking a longer sight of Jaehyun crouched in front of you. His eyebrows were slightly raised, his gaze steady and warm as he waited for your response.  For a moment, the noise of the amusement park around you faded, leaving only the sincerity in his voice and the sweet expression on his face. 

That same smile of his lingered on his lips—a smile you hadn’t seen this close in so long.

And yet, somehow, it felt so familiar, like slipping you back into a memory you hadn’t realized you still hadn’t forgotten.

Without meaning to, you found yourself smiling back, the corners of your lips curving upward as if in reflex. It had been a while since someone made you feel this way—seen, heard, comforted without judgment. And it had been even longer since you’d seen Jaehyun look at you like this, with that quiet reassurance that seemed to say everything would be okay, even if you didn’t believe it yourself.

“You’re still good at this, you know,” you murmured, your voice soft as you broke the silence. Your head dipped slightly, your attention getting fixated on your knees once more. 

“Good at what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly again, his smile widening just a bit.

“Making people feel better,” you replied. You shifted your body upwards, now sitting properly after recollecting your thoughts, even if it were just for a little bit. “Even when they don’t think they can.”

“I do what I can,” Jaehyun’s smile faltered slightly, a crack in his otherwise composed exterior. Inside, his emotions churned slowly but steadily, threatening to unravel him. This moment felt too close—something he hadn’t noticed until now it was finally being pried open. It was almost as if pieces of him were slowly getting chipped away, each piece falling until only fragments remained. 

Fragments he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to glue back together.

Maybe it was the potion amplifying his emotions, or maybe it was the weight of his own unresolved feelings, but a part of him wanted to do something—a push towards the thought he’s been trying to bury away. Even if some pieces were lost, maybe this was his chance to start over. 

To rebuild. 

“Speaking of which,” he said suddenly, breaking the moment before his thoughts could consume him any further, “let’s not waste the day.”

You blinked, staring at his outstretched hand toward you. “What?”

“I’m not letting you sit here feeling like this,” Jaehyun insisted, soon standing up from his crouching position, hand still extended out. “We’re at an amusement park. Let’s go have fun.”

You hesitated. It almost felt like this was wrong, and it went out of your boundaries. This was supposed to be a date with Heeseung, but now Jaehyun is here, standing in front of you, offering to practically fill his spot. So, what made this? 

It can’t be considered a date—maybe a hangout. But, still, a hangout with your ex? 

Your matchmaker? 

The more you tried to sort through the mess of emotions inside you, the harder it became to ignore the almost pleading look on Jaehyun’s face. His fingers wriggled slightly as he held his hand out awkwardly, his other fist tightly gripping the fabric of his pants. He looked nervous, almost unsure of himself, and the sight tugged at something in your chest. 

His reaction made it harder to turn him now. 

At the end of the day, don’t you deserve something, too? 

Slowly, tentatively, you reached out and took his hand. The warmth of his palm instantly engulfed yours, and you felt the faintest tremble in his fingers. Jaehyun’s hand twitched at the sudden contact, and for a moment, it seemed like he might completely malfunction. But instead, his grip tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you he was there, simply for you. 

“I promise this will be worth your time,” his voice shifted from awkwardness to a quiet sense of confidence, flashing another smile of his. 

Before you could respond, Jaehyun turned, still holding your hand as he began leading you toward the amusement park. His grip didn’t falter, firm yet gentle, as though he feared you might slip away at any moment.

This wasn’t how you expected your day to unfold. Yet here you were, side by side with Jaehyun, the buzz of the park surrounding you as colorful lights and cheerful chatter filled the air. You scanned your surroundings, taking in the endless rows of games, rides, and shops until something caught your eye.

Jaehyun had been busy glancing around, seemingly trying to pick out the perfect first stop, when he felt a soft tap on his arm. Turning toward you, he was met with the sight of your eager expression as you pointed toward one of the brightly decorated shops.

“We should go there first,” you said, tugging lightly at his shirt sleeves. “I’ve always wanted to buy one of those headband accessories.”

Jaehyun followed your gaze to the shop, where a variety of playful headbands adorned with animal ears and other silly headpieces were displayed. He chuckled softly, his usual calm demeanor melting into something more playful as he turned his head back to you. 

Oddly enough, he felt at ease when he was around you this time. 

“Really? That’s what you want to do first?” he teased, though the warmth in his tone betrayed how amused he was by your enthusiasm.

“Yes, really,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to hide your smile. You were starting to warm up, abandoning the facade you had just a few moments prior. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Jaehyun shook his head, a small laugh escaping him as he allowed you to tug him toward the shop. “Alright, alright. Let’s go see which one suits you best,” he said, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes as the two of you stepped inside.

Once inside the shop, you immediately gravitated toward the section of animal headbands. The shelves brimmed with accessories of every kind, and your eyes widened as they trailed over each design. Jaehyun followed behind, initially glancing at the shelves, but his gaze kept drifting back to you. His eyes lingered on your focused expression, the way your lips slightly puckered as you hummed softly while contemplating your choices.

It was almost too endearing to watch, and Jaehyun had to suppress a laugh that threatened to escape. He knew if he let it slip, the potion's effects would surge, making it harder to keep himself in check.

As he tried to hold himself back, you picked up a headband and examined it closely, turning it over in your hands before moving on to another. Finally, you settled on a brown headband with floppy, oversized dog ears. With a satisfied grin, you turned to face Jaehyun.

The suddenness of your movement startled him slightly, his eyes darting from your face to the headband in your hands. You motioned with one hand for him to lower himself, confusing him for a moment. When you repeated the gesture, Jaehyun hesitantly leaned down, still unsure what you were planning.

Without a word, you placed the headband on his head, carefully adjusting it. Your fingers brushed through his hair, lingering briefly on the strands near his forehead as you fixed the headband into place.

Jaehyun could feel his ears getting hot, momentarily freezing up while his thoughts were in a swirl—a similar feeling from the first time he had the potion take its effects. 

He had to keep himself in check. 

“This is for me?” Jaehyun asked, straightening up once you finished. He rubbed the back of his neck, brushing his fingers against his burning ear in an attempt to compose himself. It didn’t look like you noticed as your attention was brought back to the headbands on display, only humming in response. 

“It looks good on you,” you responded, smiling, though your smile faltered for a moment as you instinctively retreated into your thoughts. Once again, you instinctively thought of Jaehyun first, an old habit of yours that never seemed to die when you were around him. 

Before your thoughts could drift any further, they were abruptly interrupted as you felt something soft being placed on your head. You turned quickly, catching Jaehyun’s startled expression as he tried to keep the headband he just placed on you. 

His eyes widened slightly, a chuckle escaping his lips as his hands instinctively reached out—one resting lightly on your shoulder to keep you still, the other adjusting the headband that had shifted due to your movement.

Once satisfied, he stepped back and pointed toward the mirror in front of you both. “Now we’re matching,” Jaehyun declared with a hint of pride, though his confident smile faltered into something more bashful as he caught sight of your reflection.

You glanced at the mirror, noticing how the two of you wore similar designs—yours a white version of the floppy-eared headband, while his was brown. 

It looked like a couple’s item. 

Regardless of that, the sight of you two standing side by side brought a small laugh out of you, and you found yourself smiling despite the earlier heaviness in your chest.

“You look good in it too,” Jaehyun said, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. 

“I’ll admit, it’s kind of cute,” you said, tugging at the floppy ears. “Should we get these?” 

Jaehyun’s grin widened, and he nodded enthusiastically. Without another word, the two of you made your way to the checkout counter, the cashier giving a knowing smile as you both purchased your matching accessories.

With the headbands secured, it wasn’t long before you and Jaehyun were going through the amusement park, hopping from one ride to the next. From bumper cars that had you both laughing uncontrollably as you tried to hit each other to classic carnival games where Jaehyun insisted on winning you a plush toy—though he missed more than a few throws, making him utterly embarrassed. 

After he was able to win a mid-sized plush that he swore resembled you, you pointed at the rollercoaster ride you two somehow always managed to walk past. Jaehyun’s feet stood in place, not moving from what he stood on. 

You turned to look at him, whose fear and nervousness were clearly evident on his face—trying to hide it would be useless. 

Oddly enough, that expression was cute to you. 

“Are you scared?” 

“Me? Scared—” Jaehyun’s words get cut off after he turns silent while staring at the drop of the coaster, hearing the screams from the people—sending a sudden chill over his body. He gulped quietly, continuing on with his words, “I’m not scared.”

“Then, let’s go in line!” You grabbed onto his arm, getting a better grasp than before, considering how off guard he was by seeing the loops of the roller coaster. 

“Wait!” Jaehyun’s feet tried to remain in place on the ground, his arms flailing slightly during the process. His actions were clearly betraying his words, which you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Come on,” you coaxed, finally interlocking arms with Jaehyun to have a more successful chance of dragging him away. 

Jaehyun stumbled forward—not because of the force you put to move him into the line, but from the warmth from your body pressing into his arm

The once squirmy Jaehyun, who wanted nothing more than to teleport away from the situation, was now completely frozen, his gaze fixed ahead, yet his mind was undeniably tethered to you. He simply allowed you to drag him, as his thoughts always seemed to follow whenever you went. 

“Jaehyun?” Your voice finally broke through his daze after calling his name for the third—or maybe the fourth—time. It left you wondering curiously if he is really this scared of roller coasters. There was really no way for you to know beforehand this—you two never went on an amusement park date before. “Are you okay? We can always skip this if—”

“No, no, I’m—” Jaehyun quickly turned to reassure you, even if the expression on his face said otherwise. He truly wasn’t fine—far from it—but when he had a feeling you really wanted to go on this ride, he felt almost obligated to push back his fears. With the way your excitement seemed to glimmer in your eyes the first time, he could handle it, couldn’t he?

Though at this point, if there was anything he should be fearing, it was how dangerously close you two were. 

You two were practically face-to-face, which made Jaehyun feel his breath hitch in his throat. To make matters worse—or maybe better—you were still clinging onto his arm, your touch managing to keep him in place while simultaneously making his heart race out of control.

Jaehyun could see your lips moving, trying to say something, but your words didn’t reach him. It almost felt like you were mumbling when you truly weren’t. His eyes could only try to make sense of the movement of your lips, which was a complete struggle as everything seemed to blur into nothing but silence. 

With that given moment, it felt like everything intensified. It was as if the love arrow potion had decided to unleash its full power, breaking past every defense he’d built to suppress it. The sensation was overwhelming, almost suffocating, as if the arrow had pierced him all over again, but hitting him ten times harder than before. 

And then, without thinking, he muttered a single word.

“Pretty.”

The word slipped out before he could catch it, soft but clear enough that you froze for a moment. Your eyes widened slightly in surprise, and that was enough to snap Jaehyun back to reality.

Panic rushed through him, and he immediately stepped back, pulling himself out of your grasp as he waved his hands frantically.

“Pretty—I mean, I’m pretty fine with us going on this ride!” he blurted out, his voice hurried and tinged with nervous laughter. His ears burned as he tried to salvage the situation, feeling utterly exposed. “After all, we’re only a few people away from entering, right?”

You simply nodded, your cheeks suddenly heating up, even if you didn’t mean to feel flustered in that way after letting him complete the sentence.

But is it really so wrong for you to feel that way? 

The silence felt heavy as you two awkwardly stood side by side, neither daring to exchange glances or words. Jaehyun was able to use that silence to be able to get himself to be composed again. His heartbeat was still going, not racing, and he didn't feel a burning sensation from his ears or face, leaving him calmer—or at least calmer than before. 

As Jaehyun finally arrived at the right state of mind, he now noticed the warmth of your touch had left him. For a fleeting moment, relief should’ve been his first reaction, but instead, it left behind an emptiness he hadn’t anticipated.

It was as if he missed it. 

“Next up in line!” the ride announcer called out, startling you both from your thoughts.

You turned to Jaehyun, catching the faint hesitation in his expression. But to your surprise, he started moving forward, almost as if he wanted to prove something—not just to you but maybe to himself.

And while you tried to keep your thoughts neutral, you couldn’t help but lean toward one explanation over the other. You wanted to believe that he was doing this for you. But that thought alone wasn’t good for you.

And it wasn’t good for you to have your mind wander to that possibility. 

Despite your inner turmoil, you found yourself seated in the middle of the ride. Jaehyun had suggested the spot, reasoning that it felt “safer” knowing there were people alive in front of him. His logic had been so ridiculous that you couldn’t help but laugh. You didn’t argue, though—you liked sitting in the middle anyway.

As the ride attendant double checked the seat restraint for you two, Jaehyun couldn’t help but ramble a bunch of questions that the attendant had no problem reassuring him about—and maybe letting out a chuckle or two. 

“That’s a lot of questions for someone who claims they’re not scared,” you teased, glancing at Jaehyun as he tightened his grip on the metal handles of the restraint.

“I’m not scared,” Jaehyun mumbled, but the stark contrast between his words and his appearance said otherwise. His knuckles were white from clutching the handle so hard, his lips had lost some color, and his eyes were wavering at every slight noise around him. 

“It’s better to be safe than sorry,” Jaehyun managed to say, chuckling nervously, almost as if he’s trying to reassure himself.

“It’s better to be safe than sorry,” Jaehyun managed to say, his voice shaky as he chuckled nervously, clearly trying—and failing—to convince himself more than you.

Even as he muttered words of self-reassurance, it all crumbled the moment the ride operator began counting down. Jaehyun’s face grew paler with every number, and before you knew it, he was whispering what sounded like a series of frantic prayers under his breath.

Seriously, it was almost humiliating for him—the amount of losses he had was overwhelming. His repeated failed attempts to win you a plushie that stumble earlier, and now, his current state as a nervous wreck after agreeing to ride something he clearly hated the idea of. How much more could he possibly embarrass himself?

You couldn’t help but feel even more endeared by this side of him. Watching his clumsy or frightened side of him felt oddly nostalgic. It reminded you of a time long ago, back when you had countless dates with him, watching him flounder when his nerves got the best of him. 

So, you couldn’t help but laugh at Jaehyun, whose eyes were already shut close when the ride finally started to move. 

It’s like you missed that sight of him. 

“Why are we still going up?” Jaehyun managed to say, his voice barely audible over the loud clanking of the roller coaster. His eyes darted open for a split second, only to snap shut again when he caught a glimpse of how high up you both were. From the ground earlier, it didn’t seem this terrifying, but now? 

“It will be fine, Jaehyun,” you said, almost as if you were attempting to cut through the amount of thoughts clouding in his mind. 

As much as Jaehyun wanted to believe your words, the way the ascent was getting higher—agonizingly slow—was making it hard for him to do so. 

“I seriously might pass out,” he muttered, his voice trembling as much as his hands.

“You won’t, Jaehyun.”

“And who are you to say that?” he shot back, his panic laced with disbelief.

“Because I’m here,” you said simply, glancing his way. “And as long as I’m okay, so will you.”

That sentence alone got Jaehyun to finally open his eyes again. Even with his fear gnawing at him, he found himself glancing to his side—where you were already looking at him. You two made eye contact, which led him to quickly forget about the fear pounding in his chest or the sweaty grip he had on the handles. But just as quickly, he broke eye contact, turning his head sharply to the front—only to regret it instantly. 

That was when he realized the cart had reached the top. 

Before he could even react, his stomach dropped along with the cart, and a startled scream was released from his throat, perfectly in sync with the other riders. Jaehyun panicked, his hands flailing desperately after he had accidentally let go of the restraint. His grip faltered as he tried to latch onto the restraint again, only for his fingers to slip against the slick metal after he went through the first loop of the roller coaster. 

And then, without thinking, he managed to hold onto something near him—your hand. Along with him, you also didn’t even notice. You were still screaming in excitement—between the thrill of the drop and the way Jaehyun’s screams were practically blowing out your eardrums, which made things only funnier. 

You were too caught up in the adrenaline to even register the fact his fingers were desperately latching onto yours. What felt like eternity finally stopped when the cart slowly returned back to its original position. The screeching yells also came to a stop, leaving everyone a moment to either catch their breaths or gush about how fun that ride was. 

That was certainly the situation between you two—Jaehyun trying breathing exercises as he felt like he forgot to breathe while you wore a beaming expression on your face. 

“That was…fun,” you started off excitedly, trailing off at the last word as you felt the hold on your hand tighten. Only then did you finally look down, seeing Jaehyun’s fingers still holding onto yours. 

Your eyes shot back up from your hands to his face, in which you only saw his side profile as he was still recovering from the ride.

“That was not... fun,” Jaehyun muttered, mirroring your tone as his own gaze finally dropped to where your hands remained linked. The moment he registered where his hand was placed, his mouth was only slightly gaped. His eyes lifted to meet yours, and for a second, you both wore the same startled expression.

The ride operator interferes before you two could say anything to each other. 

“Arms up, please.” 

His fingers slipped away from yours, leaving behind only a lost sense of warmth—something you didn’t notice until now. Jaehyun’s parted lips pressed shut as he turned to look straight ahead again, letting the ride’s restraint be lifted off of him. 

Neither of you spoke as you stepped off the ride and walked away from the station. It almost felt like déjà vu—just like earlier, when you two had stood in line together in awkward silence.

You decided to break it first. “I’m hungry,” you said, figuring food was a safe enough topic.

Jaehyun turned his head sharply, his previous dazed state replaced with exaggerated disbelief. “You’re seriously hungry after that ride?” he asked, his voice louder than necessary, as if to erase the lingering awkwardness. “I feel nauseated.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. If nothing else, at least his dramatics had successfully lightened the mood.

After all, it wasn’t like he had meant to grab your hand—he was just terrified, and that was that. You weren’t particularly fazed by it though. If anything, you found it amusing how flustered he was.

“Alright, how about this?” you proposed, shooting him an easy smile. “We’ll take a break, grab some food, and then you get to pick the last ride.”

Jaehyun’s expression instantly shifted, the excitement returning to his eyes like a light switch had been flipped. He nodded eagerly, humming in approval. 

The two of you took your time wandering around, casually debating what to eat as you passed various food stands. There were plenty of tempting options, but eventually, you both settled on corn dogs, agreeing to share a funnel cake afterward. Decisions like these were effortless with Jaehyun—it was easy to compromise and even easier to enjoy the moment.

It didn’t take long for you to finish eating, to which the roles had reversed—Jaehyun was now dragging your arm around to find something to go on. It was getting dark out, so Jaehyun quickly picked a ride in no time. Jaehyun came to a sudden stop, his face lighting up as he pointed ahead. 

“We—or I—never got to ride one of these before,” he announced, staring in awe at the towering Ferris wheel in front of you.

You turned to look at him, only to be met with his best attempt at puppy-dog eyes, as if he needed to convince you.

You chuckled at his expression, simply nodding in agreement, as truthfully, you didn’t need much persuading.

You haven’t been on a ferris wheel yet either. 

The line wasn’t as long as compared to the roller coaster, so it led you two to instantly get into one of the pods, settling into your seats across from each other. 

As the Ferris wheel ascended, you exclaimed in awe as you stared at the things from ground level that were slowly getting smaller. You stared at the glowing lights from all the other rides and booths from above.

“It’s really beautiful, isn’t it?” Jaehyun murmured, his voice softer now, filled with genuine admiration. You hummed in agreement, unable to also look away from the outside view. 

That was, until you peered over at Jaehyun, watching his eyes dazzle with amazement while your eyes lingered on him, warmth suddenly pooling in your chest. 

“You know,” you started, leaning back against the cushioned seat, “I’m really thankful for you today.”

Jaehyun turned his head slowly, his gaze meeting yours as his smile grew wider. “Don’t be,” he said, almost shyly.

“No, like, seriously,” you insisted, your voice more animated. “I don’t think I would’ve had this much fun if I wasn’t with you.”

Jaehyun blinked, his lips pressing together as if holding back another smile. “Well,” he said after a beat, “I’m glad you felt comfortable enough with me.”

You exhaled a small laugh, shaking your head. “I’m even more glad that it was you I spent the day with.”

For a second, Jaehyun didn’t say anything—simply looking at you, his expression unreadable yet soft. However, with a soft chuckle, he leaned back as well, his eyes still lingering on you as if he were seeing something just as mesmerizing as the view outside. 

“Me too.” 

RULE #7: Don’t Leave your Clients Confused 

You didn’t know how to feel. 

From the day you met him again—to now—things had never felt more confusing than before. 

Especially ever since that day, it had never left your mind. Even if you wanted to push it aside, all it did was continue to linger, creeping into your thoughts when you least expected it. 

It wasn’t even supposed to be an actual date—let alone being a real one. Jaehyun had simply stepped in for Heeseung, who never showed up. And yet, at no point did Jaehyun feel like a replacement. Not when he showed up beside you, effortlessly easing the disappointment you had been trying to suppress. Not when he went out of his way to make you laugh, making the entire day feel lighthearted and effortless. Not even when he insisted on taking you home; his concern was so genuine that it made your chest tighten.

It felt almost too genuine. 

Everything about that day felt like it was supposed to be Jaehyun. If he wasn’t there, you wouldn’t have had that much fun with someone else. And that thought alone had your mind spiraling.

You were analyzing every little thing—the way he’s been looking at you these past few weeks, the way he was always caught in a trance when you spoke, and the way his smiles never seemed to leave his face whenever he was around you. 

And for those things, you thought about all kinds of possibilities. You even thought about all the what-ifs, trying to create explanations that made sense with his actions. 

Even with the amount of things you’d try to tell yourself with some made-up reasoning behind his actions, there were obviously some questions that you couldn’t answer. 

Some things were easy to reason with. Of course, Jaehyun had been nervous—he hadn’t seen you in a while, and being thrown into such an intimate setting would make anyone uneasy. Of course, he had been extra cheerful—he was just trying to lift your spirits after being ditched. It all made perfect sense.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

But there were still questions you couldn’t answer. No matter how many times you tried to rationalize it, none of it added up.

Why did he make you feel this way?

And, more importantly—

What exactly were your feelings for Jaehyun?

Why were you feeling the very same feelings you once felt during your relationship with him? Why couldn’t you bring yourself to hate the fact that those feelings were stirring up again?

Why did you—against all logic—want to keep feeling this way?

It was undeniable that Jaehyun had the looks—one of the most attractive people you’ve ever known. But it wasn’t just his looks. He had a sweet personality—his kindness, his bubbly-like energy, and his effortless care for people without hesitation—those were the things that made him all seem perfect. 

Reuniting with him only brought back those flood of memories—the ones you claimed you managed to bury beneath stacks of paperwork and long hours from your job. 

He was, in every sense, the dream guy. 

And yet, feeling this way now almost made you feel guilty. After all, the two of you had chosen to part ways. You had told yourselves it was for the best—that your demanding work schedules had left little room for love. That drowning in responsibilities was easier than trying to hold onto something that was slipping away.

So you buried yourself in work. It was only fair, wasn’t it? If your career was the thing that had consumed your relationship, then it should consume you too.

Your routine always felt repetitive—the days had become a cycle of early commutes, endless tasks, and late nights hunched over your desk. The only real challenge was making it home before the last train filled up, securing a seat before exhaustion fully settled in. And when you did get home, there was always more work waiting. If you were lucky, you’d steal an hour of sleep before doing it all over again.

Some days felt more draining than others, but you had convinced yourself it was normal. This—this routine of working yourself to the bone—was normal.

So, why did Jaehyun’s presence disrupt the kind of lifestyle you had built for yourself?

You mindlessly stared at your laptop screen, your word count barely reaching a hundred. The blinking cursor taunted you, yet no matter how hard you tried to focus, your thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Even if you wanted to forget everything—just like you used to—the thought of him refused to leave your mind.

You let out a small huff, looking away from the document to grab the cup of water on your dining table. As you took a sip, your eyes wandered at the table, landing on your coat draped messily over the table. And right next to it...

The white dog ears headband.

The one Jaehyun picked out for you.

Because it suited you. 

You swallowed your water too fast, nearly choking as you hastily cleared your throat, the sudden clang of your cup hitting the table breaking the silence. Slowly, you steadied your movements, pushing the cup back to its original spot as if that could somehow fix the mess in your head.

But your eyes remained fixed on the headband. You reluctantly reach your hand over to grab it. Your fingers brushed against the soft fabric as you absentmindedly played with the ears, twisting them between your fingertips. And just like that, the memories came rushing back.

Just how could you help yourself?

How could you forget the way he smiled at you, saying the headband was perfect for you? The way he wore the other matching piece without hesitation? 

How could you forget his caring words and consistent reassurance, always checking to see if you were okay? How could you forget the warm grasp on your hand on the roller coaster? How could you forget the smile that adorned his face and how his laughter managed to fill up the entire place?

And most of all—the way his eyes held so much love.

How could you forget the way his eyes looked just like they were before? 

You quickly threw the headband back onto the table, covering your face with both hands. A muffled groan left your lips as you mumbled under your breath, shaking your head.

You truly had lost it.

You wanted to pull yourself together to shake off the overwhelming thoughts clouding your mind. But no matter how hard you tried, it felt as if you had been teleported back in time—except instead of drowning in paperwork, Jaehyun consumed every inch of your thoughts.

No matter what you could do, he just seemingly happened to be everywhere. He would always be lingering in your mind, in the little details of your day—in the spaces you swore only belonged to you. 

So, as much as you had vowed to immerse yourself in work, to not let anything deter you from your responsibilities, your fingers betrayed you. Instead of returning your focus to the laptop screen, you reached for your phone. 

You immediately looked in your photo album, looking over the pictures from that day—pictures of you and Jaehyun, candid moments he captured when you weren’t looking, and secret pictures you took whenever he just seemed too cute to not to. 

Without even trying to suppress it, a smile creeps onto your face. Your chest felt lighter, warmth spreading from inside out as you continued to scroll through the mountain of photos. 

That’s when you knew that you realized it. 

You couldn’t keep pretending. You couldn’t keep denying what had become so painfully obvious. There was no reasoning left to twist your feelings into something logical, no excuse that could explain away the way your heart reacted to him.

Jaehyun managed to do his thing—to strike an arrow directly through your heart, making you unable to even try to escape from it. 

Everyone had always said it. Jaehyun is an amazing cupid.

You just never expected to be his next target.

RULE #8: There’s Never No Solution 

Around Jaehyun’s business, words traveled fast. It was a given—he was the owner, after all. He was supposed to know everything before anyone else did.

Or at least, that was how it was supposed to go.

So why, instead of knowing the latest news firsthand, did he have to go find Taesan after Woonhak had suddenly burst into his office, practically breathless, only not to say much despite his excited appearance? 

"Wait—what's going on?" Jaehyun called out, eyebrows knitting together. He couldn’t even process Woonhak’s words, let alone even be able to process his sudden appearance. 

Woonhak merely grinned, shaking his head. "Taesan will tell you everything."

Jaehyun scowled. "That doesn't answer anything."

But Woonhak was already gone, leaving Jaehyun standing there, even more frustrated than before.

With an exasperated sigh, Jaehyun pushed aside the pile of paperwork he had been working on, knowing there was no point in trying to focus on it now. He had no choice but to go find Taesan himself—again.

It was never surprising. Taesan always had his own tasks, always busy with something, yet somehow, he never had a problem asking others to come to him whenever he had something to say.

It was just the way he was.

And Jaehyun was never bothered by it. But he still couldn’t help but feel the need to feel like something was up. Whatever this was about, he had a sinking feeling he wasn’t going to like it. 

"Jaehyun?" Taesan said, his eyes still glued to one of the drawers he was rummaging through, his ears picking up the distinct click of the door opening.

Jaehyun hummed as he shut the door behind him, his gaze sharpening as he watched Taesan absorb whatever task he was focused on. Jaehyun moved closer, hoping Taesan would be the one to break the silence, but Taesan stayed silent, his attention still fixed on whatever he was doing. Jaehyun couldn’t help but take a few slow steps forward, not wanting to interrupt but silently hoping the man would notice him first before the creeping awkwardness set in.

But, still, he was only faced with the sounds of shuffling while he stood there awkwardly, before finally breaking the uncomfortable silence. 

“So…” Jaehyun trails; his voice was hesitant as it was laced with confusion. “Mind explaining why Woonhak suddenly barged into my office just to tell me to find you?”

Taesan finally hummed in acknowledgement, still not looking up. “How do you feel?”

“How do I feel?” He scoffed lightly. “Come on, I need more than that.”

“Your arrow mishap,” Taesan finally said, now glancing up. It clicked in Jaehyun’s mind. Taesan was always the last to catch on, it seemed. “Is it still affecting you?”

Jaehyun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. It hasn’t gotten any easier," he admitted, his mind drifting back to all the moments with you. Just being around you made his chest feel tight, like his heart was trying to beat out of his ribcage. But despite that, he couldn’t seem to stop wanting to be near you.

"The severity of it, I guess, depends on how close I am to the person I accidentally... fell in love with." He chuckled dryly, the words feeling strange on his tongue but undeniably true. “Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

“Not really,” Taesan shrugged, catching Jaehyun off guard.

Of all the reactions Jaehyun had gotten from his friends about his accidental self-inflicted arrow, this was by far the least expected. Every other time he brought it up—whether he wanted to or not—he was met with relentless teasing, concern, or a mix of both. 

But Taesan? He seemed not even the slightness fazed by it. 

Jaehyun wore a furrowed brow, crossing his arms as if that was going to give him the support that he needed. “Just a ‘not really’? You’re not going to... discipline me for it?” 

Taesan finally looked up from the drawer, tilting his head slightly as if Jaehyun had just asked a pointless question. “Why would it be a big deal?”

Jaehyun opened his mouth, then shut it, narrowing his eyes. “Are you serious? I’m a cupid, Taesan. We don’t fall in love. We make other people fall in love.”

“You make it sound like a forbidden rule,” Taesan chuckled.

“It basically is,” Jaehyun muttered, his gaze shifting onto the floor. 

"If you make it sound so forbidden," Taesan mused, his tone teasing. "Then what if I told you I could help you finally erase the effects of the bow?"

Jaehyun’s eyes widened in shock. His arms dropped to his sides before he rushed forward, slamming his hands onto Taesan’s desk with a force that made the other slightly flinch. It wasn’t often that Jaehyun lost his composure, but now, with his hands splayed against the desk and his breath slightly uneven, he looked more frantic than Taesan had ever seen him.

“What—how?” Jaehyun stammered, his words tumbled out hastily. His reaction alone made it clear just how unexpected this was. No one had ever offered a solution before, so hearing it now—from Taesan, of all people—felt almost too good to be true.

“I didn’t expect you to react like this,” Taesan said, leaning back slightly from Jaehyun, who was too close in his personal space to his liking. “But yes, I can help.” 

“How?” Jaehyun demanded, his voice barely above a whisper. His fingers were curled against the wood, almost as if he needed something to try to prove to him that he wasn’t dreaming. 

Taesan didn’t answer immediately—once again. Seriously, Jaehyun could feel like he could collapse with how long it seemed like he was taking to tell him these things. Instead, he reached into the drawer he had been rummaging through earlier, retrieving a small glass vial filled with a shimmering, purple liquid. 

“You’re saying this is all I need?” Jaehyun tried to keep his voice steady, not wanting to seem ungrateful. In reality, he was more relieved than anything.

He doesn’t know how much longer he could be able to contain these kinds of feelings to himself around you. 

Taesan gave the vial a slow swirl, his eyes fixated on the shimmering liquid inside as if assessing its potency one last time before handing it over.

Jaehyun reached out with both hands, nearly freezing when the cold glass met his fingertips. Lifting it closer to his face, he examined it carefully another time. It looked like it was ordinary, purple medicine—except for the glitter swirling within. 

“What do I do with this?” he finally asked, tilting the vial slightly.

“Just drink it,” Taesan said simply. “The effects should wear off soon after.”

Jaehyun’s gaze flickered up, suspicion creeping in. “Where did you even get this?”

Taesan leaned back slightly, arms crossing over his chest. “You’re not the first cupid to fall victim to their own arrow,” he admitted. “It’s more common than you’d think. And well, you could say I’m the one who handles cases like these.”

Jaehyun blinked, momentarily stunned. The solution had been within reach this whole time. He could have come to Taesan from the start and spared himself the turmoil.

Taesan seemed to read his mind and smiled. “Before you start blaming anyone, I never told the others about this. We were never advised to.”

Jaehyun nodded quickly, accepting Taesan’s words before he could even begin to place blame elsewhere. Without hesitation, he popped open the cap and brought the vial to his lips, downing the liquid in one swift gulp.

The bitterness hit him immediately, a sharp, unpleasant aftertaste lingering on his tongue. He let out a hiss of dissatisfaction, grimacing as he swallowed the last drop.

Taesan extended his hand, prompting Jaehyun to toss the empty vial toward him. With ease, Taesan caught it, barely glancing up as he set it aside.

“How soon will it take effect?” Jaehyun asked, his voice edged with impatience. He wasn’t feeling anything yet, and for some reason, that made him uneasy. Shouldn’t there be some kind of reaction? A tingling sensation, a rush of warmth—something?

“It usually happens faster than you could even know it,” Taesan replied, his attention shifting back to the stack of files he had set aside earlier. “At least, that’s how it worked for the others. You shouldn’t be any different.”

Jaehyun frowned, glancing down at his hands as if expecting them to tremble or glow. Nothing.

"Don't worry, you're not supposed to feel any different from your normal self," Taesan reassured, catching a glimpse of Jaehyun flipping his hands over, inspecting them as if expecting some kind of glow or change.

Jaehyun sighed, shaking off his nerves. There was no reason to doubt Taesan—he had already taken the potion, after all. Now, he could only wait for it to take effect. Feeling a sense of relief, he quickly bid his goodbyes and stepped out of the office.

As he made his way back, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Pausing mid-step, he pulled it out, his eyes immediately landing on your contact name.

He paused momentarily, his mind going blank as he stared at his screen before it closed on its own due to inactivity. Quickly pressing the side button, he reopened his phone to click on the notification, ready to type a reply. 

He stopped in his steps to be able to formulate some sort of response—something that would keep the conversation going. The moment you replied, his heart reacted the same way it always did around you, a familiar warmth creeping in.

It felt… off.

He was supposed to be cured, wasn't he? He knew better that Taesan wasn’t the type to lie, and yet, here Jaehyun was, still feeling the rush of excitement and nerves just from texting you.

Maybe the potion just needed more time to kick in.

That had to be it.

After all, that was the only explanation he would take for why he was still so happy just to be talking to you. RULE #9: Love Never Leaves, It Sticks.

It felt strange to admit that you had completely overlooked the fact that Jaehyun was the one responsible for setting you up with a perfect match. And, to some extent, he also forgot about his duties too. 

The only reason was that Jaehyun had done his part—he had found potential matches for you, offering names, profiles, and possibilities. But every time, you declined. It left him puzzled, unsure of what to do.

Who would refuse Cupid’s advances to help them find their person? In fact, who was Cupid MJ to flat out give up their client’s journey to love without a proper explanation from the person he’s trying to set up himself? 

Letting you go wasn’t an option. That wasn’t how he was taught. He didn’t know how to handle a client who showed no interest in any of the matches he curated. His job wasn’t just about arranging dates—it was about guiding the client until they expressed their own satisfaction. Only then could he receive a review, and only then could he reach his quota.

So, with that in mind, Jaehyun found himself sticking around. Messaging you, calling when the opportunity arose—keeping the connection alive in whatever way he could. It was beginning to feel like something more than just a supposedly professional relationship, but still, he reasoned with himself: he was doing a good thing, right?

Now, as he anxiously paced around his room, debating what to wear before heading out to meet you, he reassured himself again.

This wasn’t a bad thing.

If anything, maybe he should embrace the fact that you had asked him to hang out. That had to mean something, right? If he was nervous, then surely you were too.

And you were.

You had been muttering to yourself all evening, standing up every few minutes to readjust the setup in your apartment. It made sense to have the hangout at your place—you had the materials for a clay-making session. The idea had come naturally after you both talked about those tiny clay figurines everyone seemed to be making lately. It was a casual, easy thing to do. A simple activity.

But despite that, you still felt a little jittery.

You weren’t sure what had come over you when you asked him to hang out, but after all those conversations—after all the moments spent talking to him—it only felt right.

A proper hangout.

Not by chance. Not by force.

Just... because you both wanted to.

You sat there, envisioning how the day would unfold, a giddy excitement bubbling within you. It wasn’t hard to acknowledge your feelings, not when they had been creeping up on you for some time now—lingering in the way you pushed through your workload just to have an excuse to text him, or how you found comfort in the soft tone of his voice over late-night calls.

The loud sound of the doorbell cut through your thoughts—two quick rings. Jaehyun was finally here. You shot up from your seat, hurriedly slipping into your slippers before making your way to the door. The lock clicked as you twisted the doorknob, revealing Jaehyun standing before you. He offered a small wave, his familiar smile tugging at the corners of his lips, leaving you to return the same gestures. 

Oddly enough, Jaehyun didn’t seem awkward—especially since it had been a while since he last visited your place. And yet, Jaehyun slipped off his shoes, quickly stepping into your place while you turned to shut and lock the door. 

Despite how long it had been since his last visit, Jaehyun didn’t seem hesitant or awkward. He stepped inside with ease, slipping off his shoes in one smooth motion as you closed the door behind him. His gaze swept across the space, taking in everything as if he were reacquainting himself with an old home.

Nothing had really changed. The furniture was still arranged the same, the decorations untouched, and the overall warmth of your apartment was just as he had remembered. Even after all this time, it still felt familiar.

It still felt like the place where you two once shared so many beautiful memories together. 

Jaehyun’s eyes eventually landed on the wall above your dining table, where a collection of paper prints hung neatly in contrast to the plain white walls. A flicker of recognition passed through his expression. Jaehyun remembers the prints—he was the one that had bought them for you. 

“You still kept these?” Jaehyun asked, his voice carrying a hint of surprise as he stepped closer to the prints on the wall. His fingers brushed lightly against one of them, careful not to accidentally make one of the papers drop. 

You blinked, following his glance, before letting out a hum of agreement. “Of course—why wouldn’t I?’

Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t know. It’s just been a while.”

You watched as he traced the edges of the prints, his expression unreadable. It was strange seeing him like this. It looked like he was facing nostalgia, or even seeming a little lost in thought. 

“They help make the room look brighter—you were also the one who insisted I put them up,” you reminded him, crossing your arms. “I didn’t really have a choice.”

Jaehyun let out a small laugh. “Right. I did, didn’t I?”

Shaking the thought away, you cleared your throat. “Come on, let’s get started before the clay dries out.”

Jaehyun turned to look at you, finally snapping out of his thoughts. “Right,” he said, smiling. “Let’s do this.”

You both quickly settled into your seats, Jaehyun wasting no time in tearing open the clay packages while you scrolled through your phone, looking for inspiration. The soft scent of fresh clay filled the air, adding to the cozy atmosphere of your apartment.

“What do you want to make?” you asked, glancing up from your screen.

Jaehyun furrowed his brows, rolling a small piece of clay between his fingers. "Hmm, good question,” he mused. “Maybe an animal? A dog—or maybe a penguin? They seem easy to make.”

“Who says we can’t do both?” You smiled, saving the pictures of the clay figures Jaehyun wants to make. “Now, help me look for other things we can make instead of just staring at the clay.” 

Jaehyun huffed out a small laugh but nodded, setting the clay down before pulling out his phone. “Alright, alright. Let’s find something else.” He scrolled through his screen while occasionally glancing at the clay in front of him, as if he were trying to picture how the tiny figures would come to life in his hands.

It didn’t take long for the two of you to settle on which figures to make, especially with how often you leaned in to peek at each other’s phones, exchanging suggestions and other ideas. After narrowing it down to five designs, you both got to work, grabbing and setting the clay blocks in front of you.

You pinched and pulled at the soft material, rolling it between your fingers as you alternated between glancing at the reference photo and shaping your piece, doing your best to replicate the details. Jaehyun was just as immersed, his brows furrowed in concentration as he mixed different clay colors together, determined to get the shades just right. His efforts paid off when he finally achieved the perfect one, a proud smile tugging at his lips—only to quickly fade when he realized he had made way more than he needed.

Turning his attention to you, he noticed how focused you were, carefully crafting the tiny eyes for your figure. Without hesitation, he split the excess clay in his hands, handing you the bigger portion before he returned to shaping the body of his figure.

You blinked at the generous chunk he had given you, glancing up at him with a raised brow. “You do know you just gave me the bigger piece, right?”

Jaehyun, still rolling his clay into shape, barely spared you a glance. “Yeah, but you’re better at this than me. You’ll probably make better use of it.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your amusement as you both continued working. The silence that followed was comfortable, filled with the soft squish of clay and the occasional sighs of frustration when something didn’t turn out quite right. Every so often, one of you would mutter complaints under your breath, only for the other to snicker in response.

At one point, Jaehyun leaned back in his seat, holding up his tiny clay penguin with a smug grin. “Okay, not to brag, but I think I actually did a decent job.”

You squinted at it, leaning in before reaching over to poke its round head. “It’s actually really cute! But…” You tilted your head. “The eyes are a little wonky.”

Jaehyun gasped dramatically, pulling his penguin close to his chest as if shielding it from your words. “Are you hating on my penguin?” He scooted back slightly, placing a protective hand in front of it while wearing an exaggeratedly offended expression.

You burst into laughter at his antics, and he couldn’t hold back his own laughter either, setting the penguin down with a giggle.

“I’m not hating! At least yours is actually finished,” you pointed out, still rolling the orange clay between your fingers as you focused on shaping the penguin’s feet. The body was done, and you had already made the eyes, but you were carefully perfecting the details before assembling everything.

Jaehyun leaned forward, studying your half-finished creation. His eyes widened as he compared the two figures, placing his beside yours. “Okay, hold on—your penguin isn’t even complete yet, and it already looks better than mine. How did you do that?”

You shrugged, glancing between the picture on your phone and your clay figure. “I was just looking at the reference.”

Jaehyun let out a dramatic sigh and carefully picked up his penguin again. “This won’t do,” he muttered, setting it down in front of him as if he were analyzing all its flaws. “I need to make some improvements.”

You chuckled, smoothing out the rounded edges of the feet you were sculpting. “Jae, it looks fine,” you reassured him, glancing up with a small smile.

Jaehyun ignored your remark; his eyes locked on his creation as he smoothed out its uneven features. “Says the person who just called my penguin’s eyes wonky.”

You grinned, setting your now nearly finished figure down. “I meant it in a cute way.”

He shot you a look. “That’s just a nice way of saying it looks weird—if it’s even nice in the first place.”

You nudged him lightly, a small gesture of encouragement. “Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to make even better ones once we move on to the next ones.”

Jaehyun huffed but then smiled, rolling up his sleeves as if only now he was starting to get serious. And surprisingly, he did get better. 

The two of you got so caught up in sculpting that time slipped away unnoticed. What was supposed to be only five figures turned into more as you spent more time scrolling for more ideas, tapping on Jaehyun to recreate them. With that, you couldn’t help but chuckle at Jaehyun’s slightly lopsided creations, which always prompted a round of playful bickering. 

He’d always protest that that clay personally betrayed him, leaving you to only laugh harder as you shake your head to refute that point. Despite that, there were some clear improvements. Even if there were some pieces that seemed a little too round or flat, his figures did end up becoming more refined with the new details. 

At the end of it all—when you both finally checked the time—you realized just how long you'd been at it. The table was now covered with small, colorful clay creations, each one a testament to the hours spent laughing and sculpting.

Jaehyun, with a satisfied grin, began lining them up neatly, carefully placing each figure beside its matching pair. Once he was happy with the arrangement, he pulled out his phone and quickly snapped a picture, making sure to get every little detail. Without hesitation, he sent it to you. “There. Now we have proof of our masterpiece,” he said, turning his phone around to show you the image.

You smiled as you opened the message, admiring the tiny figures you both had worked so hard on. “They actually turned out really good,” you admitted, glancing over at him.

“I would hope so,” Jaehyun said with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair to stretch his arms behind his head. “After spending all that time making them.”

“Worth it, though,” you chuckled, tapping at your screen to save the photo. 

“What do we do with them?” Jaehyun asked, still remaining in his current posture. 

“I’ll keep them,” you announced, before suddenly gasping as a thought struck you.

Without another word, you grabbed as many clay figures as your hands could hold—careful not to squish them—and hurried across the room. Jaehyun turned in his seat, watching you with curiosity as you stopped in front of a shelf.

One of the shelves was completely empty, a perfect space for your new collection. You carefully placed the figures down, aligning them just as Jaehyun had arranged them earlier. Once they were neatly lined up, you turned to face him, grinning.

Jaehyun, who had been observing the whole thing with an amused expression, glanced between the shelf and you. “You’re really making a display out of them?” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Instead of answering, you quickly ran back to grab the remaining figures. This time, Jaehyun stood up, scooping up a few clay figures himself before trailing behind you to the shelf.

Once the last of the figures were placed neatly on the shelf, Jaehyun stepped back, arms crossed, as he admired the colorful lineup. He hummed in satisfaction, nodding approvingly before glancing at you.

"Are you actually going to keep these here?" he asked, raising a skeptical brow.

You scoffed, as if he had just asked the most absurd question. "Of course I am! We spent so much time on them—I can’t just take them apart like they were nothing."

Jaehyun smirked, tilting his head slightly. "Hmm, but how can I trust you on that? What if, the moment I leave, you take them down? Or even worse—" his voice dropped into a dramatic whisper, "What if you throw them away?"

“I would never!” You insisted. “You can visit again next time, and I promise the figures will still be here.”

Jaehyun’s lips curled into a grin. "Wait... was that you subtly inviting me to hang out again?"

"You started it," you muttered, quickly averting your gaze as you searched for a way to change the subject. Your eyes flickered to the clock, and you suddenly got a thought. "Do you want something to eat before you go? We completely forgot to eat anything."

“I would like that.”

Nodding, you grabbed your phone and sat back at the dining table, scrolling through a food delivery app. Meanwhile, Jaehyun found his gaze drifting back to the shelf, his fingers absentmindedly grazing the edge as he admired the tiny clay figures once more.

They weren’t perfect—not even close. Some were lopsided, others a little misshapen, but they held a charm he couldn’t ignore. Maybe it was because they were made with you.

And then his chest tightened.

That all-too-familiar pounding in his heart returned, an effect he swore he had rid himself of. Hadn't he? The supposed cure was meant to work, yet here he was, feeling the same way he always had around you.

Jaehyun’s eyes flickered back to you, his lips unconsciously curling at the sight of your focused expression, brows slightly furrowed as you scrolled through the menu.

Had the potion failed? Or... had his feelings never truly left in the first place?

The way he was feeling wasn’t perfect either—it was far from ideal. The pounding in his chest, the way his thoughts tangled whenever he looked at you—it was overwhelming, almost suffocating. A part of him felt like he needed to escape, to put distance between you and himself just to regain some sense of composure. Maybe if he ran far enough, he could recover. Maybe he could convince himself that this was nothing more than a lingering effect of something that should’ve faded by now.

But then there was you. There was always you. 

Just like the clay figures—no matter how imperfect or uneven—he found himself wanting to overlook the flaws, to overlook and accept the nagging feelings that were tugging at his chest. Because somehow, in the moments he spent with you, everything felt perfect enough. 

And that was everything he was looking for. 

To be in love. 

RULE #10: Once a Client, Always Your Client.

Jaehyun had always been strict when it came to rules, routines, and the careful structure he had built for himself. And yet, when it came to you, he found himself hesitating—not to break those rules, but to carve out quiet exceptions just for you.

It wasn’t that he hated the idea of being with you. What he hated was the feeling of being held back, restrained by reasons he couldn't quite grasp. Because the truth was, he did want those late-night walks, arms swinging side by side, fingers brushing in a way that sent warmth curling through his chest. He wanted to spend an entire day before an anniversary decorating, making sure everything was just right. He wanted to laugh until his stomach ached, gasping for air through tear-streaked laughter, unable to stop because being with you made everything that easy.

He wanted all of it.

And he wanted it only with you.

That was the reason why he kept going back—to chip away at the very walls he had built around himself. He went out of his way to text you, to meet you, to be near you. It felt effortless and natural—something that should’ve felt right. And yet, there was still that nagging thought, a lingering voice that was in the back of his mind telling him to stop. 

Was it fear? The fear of breaking Cupid’s rules, of stepping beyond the boundaries he was meant to uphold? Or was it the thought of being ridiculed, of being the one to fall instead of making others fall in love? 

Or was it the thought of having what he considered his true love slip away from him again? 

Whatever it was, it bothered him, clearly unshakable and noticeable—enough that Riwoo had to drop by, his concern written all over his face, just to check on him. 

Riwoo had always been Jaehyun's safe space—the one person he could confide in without hesitation, the one who always listened without judgement. He was the only one who knew at first—the one who confidently took over Jaehyun’s shifts just so he could be with you. So, seeing Jaehyun sprawled out on the couch, lost in thought, wasn’t just concerning for Riwoo—it was concerning for Jaehyun himself. 

He wasn’t the type to sit still like this, to let his feelings consume him so completely. But right now, it felt like that was all he could do. 

“What’s on your mind?” Riwoo sat back in one of the single-seat couches, his gaze never leaving Jaehyun, who looked like he’d checked out of the world entirely. He was slumped, his body unmoving, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as if he could stare through it into some distant place. It was as if he wasn’t really there at all.

Jaehyun finally broke the silence, his voice low. “A lot of things,” he murmured, his words barely audible.

Riwoo leaned forward, his expression softening. “Tell me one of them,” he said, his tone almost gentle—the kind of voice you use when you know someone seems to have a lot on their mind. “You know you can’t keep all of this to yourself, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun let out a slow breath, his chest rising and falling as he remained fixated on the ceiling. His mind was a tangled mess, but if he had to pick just one thing—one thought that refused to leave him alone—he knew exactly what it was.

“It’s… about her,” he admitted, his voice quieter than usual.

Riwoo leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. “I figured,” he said knowingly. “What about her?”

Jaehyun shut his eyes for a moment, as if doing so would somehow help him find the right words. “I keep going back to her,” he finally said, his voice laced with frustration. “Even when I tell myself I shouldn’t. Even when I know it goes against everything I’m supposed to stand for.”

“What’s so wrong about falling in love? Riwoo asked, his voice cutting through the heavy silence.

Jaehyun’s eyes fluttered open, slowly processing the question. It was a simple one, yet it felt like an unexpected weight. For as long as he could remember, love was something to be avoided—something that could jeopardize everything a Cupid was meant to do. Hearing Riwoo speak those words, however, felt strange—almost unsettling.

He had been taught his entire life that love wasn’t meant for someone like him.

Every Cupid should know to avoid getting tangled up in love themselves. 

“I should be helping people find love, not falling into it myself,” Jaehyun murmured. The very words that he held against himself finally started feeling heavy with the weight of the years of expectations he set for himself to follow. It didn’t feel right for him to be saying that now, especially given how and what he’s been doing. 

Riwoo’s chuckle interrupted his thoughts. “You make it seem like Cupids can’t find love either.”

Jaehyun paused, his brow furrowing. “Isn’t that what they always told us?”

Riwoo’s smile faded into something more thoughtful. “It may not seem like an ideal situation for a Cupid,” he said slowly, as if reflecting on his own experiences with being around other Cupids. “But that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

Jaehyun looked at him, skeptical. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“No, seriously.” Riwoo leaned forward, his gaze more earnest now. “Why do you think I accepted the idea of you dating Y/N in the first place? Why do you think I’ve been covering your shifts whenever you needed it? I’ve always made space for you to be with her.”

Jaehyun felt a knot in his chest. He knew Riwoo was right. His friend always seemed to appear at the right time, sometimes without even needing to be asked. Every time Jaehyun needed to be with you, Riwoo was there to take his place.

“Where are you going with this?” Jaehyun asked, trying not to let his hopes rise too quickly.

“I’m trying to tell you,” Riwoo began, his voice getting softer, “that Cupids can’t hate the idea of love.”

Jaehyun’s mind buzzed with the implications of Riwoo’s words, and then he remembered something Taesan had once said. “Like Taesan said before,” Riwoo continued, “you aren’t the only one who’s been put in situations like this.”

Jaehyun shifted his position, moving from sprawling lazily on the couch to sitting upright, his posture tense. His mind raced, but the words still felt trapped in his throat.

“You’re still lost?” Riwoo asked, eying Jaehyun’s every sudden move. 

“It’s not that." Jaehyun let out a slow breath, his gaze drifting to the floor as he processed his thoughts. “From the moment I drank that potion Taesan gave me, I was told everything would just... disappear. But it didn’t work. I still feel exactly the same. I just feel…confused.”  

“Do you hate the idea of liking her?”

Jaehyun shook his head almost immediately, his fingers absentmindedly tapping on the edge of the couch. “I don’t. I really don’t. And I don’t know what to do with that.” 

““And I’m telling you that it’s okay if you want to love her,” Riwoo said with a smile. “Helping others find love doesn’t mean you have to give up your own.”

Jaehyun hadn’t realized how badly he needed to hear those words. All this time, he’d convinced himself that his feelings weren’t meant to be accepted, even though deep down, he yearned for that very thing. Hearing Riwoo’s reassurance lifted a weight from his shoulders, replacing his lingering worries with a silent urgency. The need to act, to take the step he’d been hesitating on, was suddenly clear.

“I think I need to go,” Jaehyun muttered as he stood, grabbing the nearest hoodie hanging by the door. He barely even looked at it before pulling it over his head, his mind already a few steps ahead, fixed on the next thing.

Riwoo didn’t need him to say more. He just sat back, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He watched Jaehyun with a mix of amusement and understanding. Even if Jaehyun hadn’t said the words directly, it was clear what he wanted.

Jaehyun was heading straight to you.

“You got this,” Riwoo said softly, as if the words could somehow give Jaehyun the last bit of courage he needed. Jaehyun paused before stepping out of his door, offering Riwoo a small but genuine smile, whispering a thank you. 

The moment Jaehyun stepped out and closed his door behind him, his heart picked up speed. Each step felt like it was pulling him closer to something he wanted but couldn’t quite understand—something that had been waiting for him. The answers weren’t clear, and maybe they never would be. But for once, at this moment, Jaehyun didn’t feel the need to chase them. He didn’t seem to mind. 

He just needed to show up. 

As he neared your place, he could feel the anticipation building in his chest, almost like a tightness he couldn't shake. His hand hovered over his phone, his thumb hesitant for a brief second. He took a deep breath, telling himself to stop overthinking. 

He was already here. He couldn’t turn back now. 

Before his mind could talk him out of it, Jaehyun pressed the call button next to your contact. One ring, and he immediately felt a rush of jitters flood through him. The second ring, his fingers twisted the fabric of his hoodie, his nerves getting the better of him. By the third ring, he finally heard your voice on the other line.

"Jaehyun?"

He froze for a moment, hearing his name fall from your lips. The sound made his heart race, but he quickly composed himself, trying to ignore the sudden increased pacing in his chest.  

"Y/N... Hi."

"Hey, what's up?" 

"Can I see you?" Jaehyun wasn’t too sure if you could hear the sudden tremble in his voice, but he could only pray that you didn’t. 

"Like... right now?"

"Just for a little while, yeah. I don’t want to rush you or anything, but I’m nearby, and—well, if you’re not up for it, that’s totally fine. I know it’s late."

"Stop worrying, Jae. I'll be out in a few. Just wait for me." you said, and Jaehyun couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. He was already a little lost in the thought of what he wanted to say, but for now, he just waited, allowing himself to calm down as the seconds ticked by.

"I’ll be here,” he responded back quickly. 

He could almost picture your expression once he heard the soft chuckle you gave as the line went quiet again, leaving him standing there, staring at the phone in his hand. His nerves didn’t settle completely, but it didn’t matter anymore. He had done it. He had reached out. And now, all he had to do was wait.

After a few moments, Jaehyun spotted you running out of your apartment complex. You waved, and he quickly waved back.

"Hi," you said, as if the greeting over the phone hadn’t already happened. "Where do you want to go?"

 "Is it okay if we just stay out here?" he asked, knowing this was something that he needed. There was something comforting about being in an open space—a sense of calm he didn’t want to lose. He needed the fresh breeze of air, but more importantly, he simply needed a little room to breathe if things became overwhelming. 

"Yeah, of course," you said, nodding. You pointed toward a bench just outside the complex. "We can sit there."

Jaehyun shifted slightly on the bench, feeling the cool night air brush against his face. The sounds of distant traffic blended with the quiet night, giving everything a sense of calm he hadn’t expected. Sitting next to you with no distractions, it almost felt like time slowed down. The pressure in his chest eased just a little more.

“What did you want to see me for?” you finally spoke, turning to face Jaehyun. He also turned to look at you, your face illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlamp. His heart skipped, just like it always did when you looked at him like that—with that same curiosity and warmth in your eyes. It made his thoughts scatter, but he pushed them back, trying to focus.

“I just... needed to talk,” he said, his words coming out quieter than he expected. He wasn’t sure how to put what he was feeling into words. He let out a small chuckle, noticing how ridiculous it was for him to be acting this nervous. “I’ve been holding back from saying this, actually.”

“About what?” you asked softly, your voice laced with both curiosity and a hint of worry. Something about the way Jaehyun had called you out here felt different, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was something important. Your heart skipped a beat, uncertainty swirling in your chest as you tried to read his expression. 

"About... us,” Jaehyun finally confessed, his voice quieter than usual. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this—about you—and what it really means. I know the timing might seem a little off, especially with me having to be involved in your love life by setting you with others, but I can’t seem to shake these feelings I have for you.”

“You have feelings for me?” you asked, your voice a mix of surprise and disbelief, the words barely leaving your lips.

He nodded, his cheeks flushing as he looked away for a moment, trying to gather himself. The honesty in his words felt foreign, almost suffocating after he’d spent so much time hiding it. “Ever since you walked into my office that day, I’ve been trying not to feel it. I didn’t want to admit it, but when I saw you, it wasn’t fear I felt in my stomach. It was… relief. Relief that I finally got to see you again.”

Jaehyun’s voice trailed off as he shifted uncomfortably, but there was something raw in his eyes that made you pause. It was the kind of vulnerability he rarely let anyone see, let alone you.

“You’ve kept that with you this whole time?” you asked again, trying to reconfirm his answer as your thoughts spiraled. 

He nodded again, his fingers suddenly fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “I didn’t want to complicate things, but I knew I couldn’t keep pretending my feelings are simply nothing.” 

The weight of his words was finally setting into you after you tried processing everything. Your mind felt like it was in a haze—this was unexpected, but not completely. You always felt a shift between you two but never allowed yourself to fully acknowledge it. You were the one who brought the idea of breaking it off first, after all. 

And now, it felt as though time had folded itself back, bringing you to that moment when Jaehyun first confessed to you. That same rush of emotions, the happiness tangled with confusion, was there again. But this time, you felt different—stronger, surer. 

You knew better now; you knew that you couldn’t let someone like him slip away again.

“I’m really happy that you’re telling me this,” you said, your voice having an obvious, cheesy tone. “Because I feel the same way.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened, considering how he was preparing himself for the worst. “Wait… you do?”

You nodded, recognizing how the truth was coming out easily now. “I always thought it was obvious.”

Jaehyun’s lips parted slightly as if he were searching for something to say, but he simply looked at you, his words being taken over with a grin on his face. His gaze softened while he stopped fidgeting with his hoodie, feeling a rush of relief running through him. 

“I was scared that this would have made things weird between us. But hearing you say that..." He exalted, as though he could finally breathe easier. “It’s everything I could wish for.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, considering how you were never quite sure if you’d ever get to hear those words from him if you didn’t show up to answer his call. The way your feet kicked back and forth was the subtle sign of nerves and excitement that had your pulse quickening. 

“Me too.” 

“I’m glad,” he said, his voice soft but sincere. “I really am.” He leaned back slightly, his gaze locked with yours, feeling lighter than he had in a long time. It was strange, yet comforting, knowing that the feelings between you were mutual.

For once, everything felt right again.

“Well then, how about we have an impromptu date right now?” Jaehyun suggested, his nervous look soon turning into something more playful. This was the Jaehyun you were always used to. 

“Oh, so now you’re asking to take me out on a date after I just also practically confessed my feelings?” you shot him a look, only for you to end up breaking into a small fit of laughter. “Very smooth, Cupid MJ.” 

“It’s only fair that I get to ask you out,” he shrugged, wearing a teasing grin. “Had to beat you to it before you were going to ask me out on a hangout again.”

“Alright then, where would we go?”

“To yours? Actually, I’ve been meaning to add a few prints to your kitchen area. It was looking a little plain, and I should’ve gotten you more prints before.”

“Shading my living space after suggesting we go there is crazy, by the way,” you crossed your arms, jokingly staring at him in disbelief. 

Jaehyun let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "You know I didn’t mean it like that."

"If not, then what?" you teased, still shaking your head. "I think you’re just trying to crash into my place, huh?"

He raised his hands in mock surrender, his expression innocent yet mischievous. "Far from that—I just want to see those clay figures you’ve got if you still have them. I’ve been curious."

Another soft laugh escapes from your lips, and the warmth in your chest spreads further. “Come see it then,” you said, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them. Honestly, you were waiting for the next time he’d suggest going to your place. You wanted him to come over again. “I’ll show you that I kept my word on keeping our figures.”

Jaehyun’s smile widened, his eyes lighting up as if your invitation was exactly what he’d hoped for. “Lead the way,” he said, following right after you as you stood up to walk back into your apartment complex—this time, with him by your side. 

The conversation between you two flowed easily, like it always had, and with every exchanged word and giggle, Jaehyun found himself being able to learn a few things.

One, that the Cupid Rules were never as severe or strict as he once believed. Fate had its own way of working, and despite all the supposed boundaries and obstacles, it had led him right back to you—the very person he once thought the Cupid Universe forcefully separated him from. 

Two, he had been so fooled to be convinced that removing the love arrow effects would help erase the emotions entangled between you both. Instead, he was right back here with you. And this time, there was nothing to blame, no external force to credit for his sudden rush of emotions—just the undeniable truth that, even without all of that, he still would have chosen you anyway. He couldn’t complain, not when this was exactly where he wanted to be. 

And three—the one thing he could fully believe about the Cupid’s Handbook was Rule #10. 

Once a client, always your client. 

Jaehyun could only hope those words were true. That no matter where life led you both, no matter what ended up being in the way, he could always find a way to stay by your side for good. 

That’s when he knew that being only with you was the only thing he wanted. 

His first, true love. 

𓊆 🗯️ 𓊇 CUPID’S FINAL WORDS ✶ TYSM FOR READING UNTIL THE END ^^ !! this feels so bittersweet completing like actually… 💔 so… if i were to write for more cupid aus, would you guys like that?? since i do have some ideas but not for all members yet so…. please let me know ♡

BND PERM TAGLIST ( OPEN ) — @juyeoz @j4d @itsactuallylina @rizzwoos @htaesan @macapunoz

[ervotica]

you’re an angel, i’m a dog — a.donaldson

pairing; older!art donaldson x fem!reader

warnings; roughly written, badly edited, not beta’d (because when is it ever?), allusions to smut, implied age gap (reader is early 20s, art is early 30s), slight tashi x fem!reader if you squint, infidelity (but tashi is kinda cool with it), just some thoughts about older!art and his pretty girl

a/n; this concept has been eating at me for daysss so i had to write it at least roughly! should we make this a series? (maybe get patrick involved?🫢) let me know what you think! ART & CHALLENGERS (poly!art & patrick) REQUESTS ARE OPEN! any questions / conversation starters about this particular au are highly appreciated and encouraged!! please come to my inbox 📥 <3

older!art is fucking obsessed with you— you, who comes to every one of his matches, who sits next to his wife in those adorable little tennis skirts you sport just for him, who whoops and cheers from the stands whether he wins or loses.

you’re forbidden fruit. so, naturally, he adores you.

tashi knows, because of course she does. she never pries, never so much as spares you a second glance when he wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your neck and huffs hot air against the shell of your ear. she doesn’t care — you’ve made art better at tennis.

his confidence has skyrocketed since having a pretty thing like you cheering him on, his biggest and most enthusiastic supporter. he plays better, he second guesses himself less, he’s more relaxed.

you’re what’s been missing. the last piece of the puzzle.

an obedient little thing, glued to his side, wagging like a dog at his every command.

he fucking loves it. loves having someone relying on him for love and validation. loves the way you preen under his fervent gaze and flutter your lashes at the slightest touch.

when tashi asks you to join art’s team officially, you almost keel over.

“look, i don’t care that he’s fucking you… or that he’s in love with you. he has a shot at the us open this year, and he needs you by his side to do it.” she says. you’re quick to agree, ever obedient and desperate to please.

“he’s in love with me?”

she scoffs. “you’ve seen the way he looks at you. he almost creams his pants every time you’re in the same room as him.” she tilts your chin upwards with a crooked finger, giving your cheek an affectionate - albeit condescending - pat.

“you two can have your fun— but he has to win this year.”

art’s perched against the doorframe when you turn, corded forearms crossed over his chest. you scrunch your nose, pushing back a smile that crinkles at your eyes despite your efforts.

fucking smitten.

tashi rolls her eyes, a half smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and she nudges you towards him.

“go on.”

he opens his arms in greeting and you’re quick to fall into them, your fingers knotting in the shorn hair at his nape. his chest expands beneath your own as he takes a long breath, and he presses his nose to your pulse point, shuddering.

“love you.” he murmurs into your skin.

“love you more.”

he could cry; he doesn’t remember the last time someone told him they loved him and meant it. you’re obsessed with him, almost as much as he is with you.

at his next match, you carry his rackets and send him off with a good luck kiss that has him breathless, grinning as you roll his wad of gum between your teeth that you sucked right from his waiting mouth.

he wins.

how could he not with his pretty girl watching?

and that night, he rewards you with a thorough fucking, whispered love confessions against your lips, and a breathy moan as he cums that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon.

so, yeah. maybe this life isn’t so bad, after all.

[sapphire-writes]

the winner takes it all

Art x Reader x Tashi

summary: winners deserve rewards, and Tashi is more than happy to spoil her star athlete with the help of her ever-dutiful husband.

word count: 2.7k

rating: mature/explicit/18+

warnings: porn no plot (deep breath) m/f/f dynamic, threesome, dom!Tashi, switch!Art, sub!Reader, p in v, creampie, overstim, hair pulling, titty play, use of toys, praise, teasing, spanking, orgasm denial, oral (fem receiving), oral (reader giving fem), face sitting

note: hope you enjoy! my first non-HOTD related fic!

link to other stories from me!

To be notified when I post something new, be sure to follow @sapphire-writes-updates & turn notifications on 💙

Your match had taken place several hours ago. You’d been anxious the entire time, but ended up winning, much to you and your coach’s pleasure. The ride back to the hotel was torturous, as well as the following mandatory ice bath, sauna, shower, and footage review. It was the routine you’d followed ever since Tashi began coaching you.

She was nothing if not thorough.

After tying up several loose ends, including Tashi grilling you for every point you missed, every fault she could see when she paused the footage, you now found yourself in a more pleasurable position. 

Art held your legs open as he continued his even thrusts, cock sliding against the walls of your pussy at a torturous pace. Tashi sat beside you, clad only in a silk robe and lace panties, brushing some hair from your face that was sticking to your forehead with perspiration.

You had the suite to yourself for the night. Tashi and Art’s little girl was safely tucked away with her grandmother in another elegant suite on the other side of the hotel. Another part of the routine. 

“Tash….”

“You did well out there today,” she interrupts, reaching beside her to the end table drawer and pulling out her Hitachi wand. It buzzes to life as she turns it on and a strangled whine leaves your throat as she presses it to your clit,  “See what happens when you put in the extra time? That backhand of yours is a lethal weapon now.”

“Fuck!” is the only response you’re able to give as Art moans at the vibrations as he continues to pound into you. 

She likes you best like this, fucked dumb on Art’s cock, mindlessly agreeing to her plans for future matches, eyes rolling back in your head. Different moves she’ll have you practice. How hard she plans to work you on the court the following morning. 

“Come on, come for me,” Tashi insists, hand trailing over your breasts, “What’s my girl need to come, hm? Need these pretty tits attended to?” She pinches your nipple for emphasis and your jaw slacks, a pleasurable current in your gut winding tighter and tighter with the continuous stimulation.

Art slings your left leg over his shoulder, pressing a tender kiss to your calf as he does so. 

The new angle sends him deeper inside of you and you clench, mouth falling open with an uncontrollable moan.

“That’s it,” Tashi murmurs, eyes never leaving your face, “Feels so good doesn’t it? Art knows how to treat his girl, huh? Don’t you baby?”

“Yes,” he hissed between clenched teeth, beads of sweat forming on his brow, “Fucking perfect pussy, god—”

Tashi removes her hand from your breast, taking hold of your chin.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes water with pleasurable tears but you do as she asks, always keen to follow her instructions. The tennis court, the bedroom, it was all the same playing field in the end.

“Come on baby,” she murmurs, leaning down and pressing a kiss against your lips, “Come for me, you’ve been such a good girl, you deserve it.”

“Fuck!” Art courses as your pussy tightens around him, “Oh uhhh—”

“I’m cumming,” you helplessly whimper, the words nearly a sob, “Tashi…..fuck….Art fuck feels so—-“ your abdominal muscles tense as your reach your peak, white-hot ecstasy flooding your body as a shudder rolls through you. 

Tashi smiles as you come, fingers dancing down your neck. Art fucks you through it, leaning forward to pound into you at a harder rhythm, chasing his imminent release. It’s only then Tashi glances at him, her smile dropping slightly.

“Don’t cum.”

Art’s hips stutter as your walls continue to flutter around his thick length, his jaw slacks, eyes watering as he looks at his wife.

“Tash—”

“I said no,” she insists, shutting off the vibrator and throwing it to the side. Leaning forward, she captures your lips in a kiss. She sits up, a smile on her face as she kisses Art as well. He whimpers against her lips, hard and pulsating inside you still. But Tashi never changes her mind.

“You want to come, you should try winning.” 

“Tash please,” Art’s voice was strained, Adam’s apple bobbing, his expression pained, “please let me come.”

“Yeah?” She taunts moving up to kiss him. She brings her lips close to his, his eyes fluttering shut as she barely brushes the soft pout of her mouth against his. His lips part, head tilting to chase her. 

You watch from below them, still trying to slow your breathing. You like watching them dance, this push and pull they have. It’s hypnotizing, the effect she has on him. On you. Tashi pushes his chest and his eyes flutter open.

“Sit.” 

Tashi nods to the chair in the corner of the room. Art hesitates and she raises a brow when he doesn’t move quickly enough. Teeth clenched, Art unsheathes his aching cock from your warmth, hissing as he pulls completely out. Your breath hitches at the loss of him, and you gaze up at Tashi waiting for her next instruction. 

Fully naked, Art walks to the chair, cock hard and swinging between his legs as though he’s nothing more than a scolded pup. 

Tashi stands walking over to him, and Art tilts his chin to meet her eyes. Slowly, she lets the silk robe fall from her shoulders, and she takes her time removing it and placing it on his lap. You can see his erection through the soft purple fabric. 

“Hold that for me, would you?” she asks, turning back to face you.

You can’t help it as your gaze falls to her breasts; supple and mouth-watering, dark nipples taunting you. The dip of flesh between her abdominal muscles, a spot you’ve run your tongue along countless times now. Tashi rejoins you on the bed, lying next to you, looping her thumbs in the waistband of her lace panties. 

“You want a taste, baby?” she asks, smiling slightly at you.

You nod eagerly as she beckons you with a tilt of her chin. Scrambling into a kneeling position you slot yourself between Tashi’s toned legs, replacing her fingers and gently pulling off her lace panties, tossing them to the side and revealing her glistening sex.

Two things turn Tashi on. Telling you and Art what to do, and tennis.

Tashi brings her hand down her front tracing down her toned stomach until she reaches the soft curls that frame her pussy. She takes two fingers and spreads herself before you. 

“Come on, baby,” she murmurs, her voice low and seductive, “Eat up.”

She’s an enchantress, you swear, using some sort of siren song to pull you in. Even here between her legs, she’s in charge; it’s you who’s helpless. You lower your face toward her pussy, already drunk on the scent of her even before your tongue reaches her warm slit. 

You couldn’t hold in your moan of pleasured relief even if you tried as your tongue dipped lower, parting her lips and dipping inside her right entrance. There’s something about her, how she feels, how she tastes. You’ll never get enough of it. You nuzzle closer to her, nose bumping against her clit and she rewards you with a breathy sigh. 

“Art,” she calls as you eagerly continue lavishing her pussy with attention, “How’s the view?”

“Fucking breathtaking,” he answered, his voice strangled, “Tashi please….”

“She’s so good,” Tashi praises, nails taking against your scalp sending pleasurable tingles down your spine, “Put that pretty mouth of yours where it counts. Show me how badly you want it.” 

Your tummy flutters with excitement and you suction your lips around Tashi’s clit, sucking the sensitive button as you hear Art stand up. 

“Put that ass up,” Tashi instructs you, her voice airy, nearly breathless. You arch your back, leaning forward into her as Art’s hands cup the front of your thighs. 

You wiggle as he kneels behind you, his breath on your pussy before his lips meet your pussy. You moan against Tashi’s cunt as Art trails his hands up your thighs, spreading your cheeks wider as he feasts on you, tongue dipping inside of you and then up to circle your clit. 

“I’ll make you a deal baby,” Tashi purrs, back arching off the bed slightly as your tongue circles her pearl, “If you make her finish before I do, I’ll let you come.”

Art groans against you, finishing with a frustrated whine as Tashi chuckles. You glance up at her, drinking in the blissed-out expression on her face, that sly smirk that reaches her eyes. 

“Deal?”

Art doesn’t hesitate, he simply redoubles his efforts, tongue entering you with desperate precision. Your lips falter, the pleasure messing with your coordination as Art ups the ante. You feel him pull away from you, and hear the wet pop of his fingers entering his mouth and leaving just as quickly. Then he’s breaching you, fingers slipping inside you with ease from the continued attention following your first orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as Art fingers you. He sets a rough pace, placing his opposite hand on your asscheek and squeezing the soft flesh. 

The two fingers he has plunged inside you to the knuckle curl perfectly against your spongy walls, hitting that sweet spot inside you every time he curls his fingers. 

“Come on,” Art murmurs, slapping your ass, “I know you want to come again.”

“Yes she does,” Tashi agrees, unable to help herself. 

“Greedy girl, never satisfied with just one, huh?” Art teases and Tashi chuckles at his efforts. Art never speaks to her like that, only you. Tashi prefers the more dominant role over both you and her husband.

Still eager to please her you sloppily continue eating her out, lost in the sensation of Art's fingers in your pussy, Tashi’s fingers in your hair—

“Come on baby,” Art encourages, though there’s a hint of desperation in his tone. He wants to come just as badly as you do.

“Such a messy girl,” Tashi coos, propping herself on her elbows, “Oh but so so good. I’m getting close…”

Art slaps your ass again, curling his fingers against your g-spot, and it’s no use. Your jaw slacks and your head lolls against the softness of Tashi’s inner thigh as your walls clench around Art’s fingers, your release barreling through you like a freight train. It knocks the air from your lungs, a desperate cry leaving you as Art makes a noise of triumph. 

“So you are capable of winning,” Tashi snaps, a little too cold to be simply a bedroom taunt. Art stares at her, before she sits up, “I haven’t come yet.”

“Let me,” you murmur, looking up at her, still lying on her thigh. She smiles down at you, stroking your cheek.

“You’re a sweet girl,” she praises, “But Art won. I think he deserves to finish in that sweet little pussy of yours. Would you like that?”

“Tash…I can’t,” you whimper, still sensitive and tingly from your previous orgasms, “I can’t come again.”

Her smile fades back to that familiar smirk. She glances at Art, nodding at the bed. Cock still standing at attention Art joins you both, lying on his back. Tashi’s hand winds its way in your hair, tugging you not so gently from your resting place. You follow her lead like a puppet on a string. 

“Don’t be ungrateful,” she accuses, pushing you towards Art’s lap, “This is a reward. You deserve this.”

Art’s cock pokes at the soft plush of your inner thighs as you straddle him. His hands move automatically towards your hips, rough thumbs brushing against you leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

He looks at you with wide, watery eyes, blonde hair a tousled mess.

“One more?” he asks, and you know at that moment if you tapped out, he’d respect it. Art was never one to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape, or form. 

He rubs your hips again, a soothing motion, and you lean into his touch. Something deep inside you tightens with want. You need him. You need her. You inhale a shaky breath and lift your hips, lining the swollen head of his cock with your entrance. Sinking onto him slowly like this is something else. The way he stretches your insides as you come to rest against him is a feeling you’ll never get used to. 

“Good girl.”

Art’s head falls back against the pillows and then Tashi pulls them from underneath him. Her husband knows immediately what she’s after and tilts his head back as she climbs onto his face. 

Tashi sits on her husband’s face as though it’s her throne. As though he was made for her and no one else. 

She pulls you closer as you lazily begin to ride Art. Lips crashing against yours she kisses you passionately, rolling her hips at the pace you began. Soon you find your rhythm, moving in sync together as Art moans beneath you, happy to pleasure both his girls at once. Tashi’s hand finds your hair again and she tugs your head back, latching her lips against your neck.

She’s fond of leaving marks. Art is hers through their marriage, but she likes to remind you that you belong to her as well. 

Art bucks his hips up into you, the head of his cock nudging perfectly against your sweet spot, just as his fingers had moments before. A whine leaves your lips and Tashi laughs against your neck. 

“He’s good at that, yeah?” she murmurs, placing soft kisses up your neck and returning to your lips, “Good with his cock, good with his…his tongue.” Her eyes squeeze shut in ecstasy as Art does something you can only imagine.

He moans again, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he decides the pace you’ve set simply isn’t enough. Art’s hands dip below the curve of your ass right where it meets your thighs, lifting you with ease up and down on his cock. He meets you halfway, thrusting up into you as he slams you up and down. 

Your whines increase in volume, turning into elongated moans swallowed by Tashi’s kiss. You can feel her nipples pressing against your own and you reach out to caress them. Tashi gyrates her hips on Art’s face and his pace becomes more frantic as he plants both feet on the mattress fucking up into you harder, faster, deeper.

“I—” 

Words are lost to you as your mind goes fuzzy; that familiar pressure in your gut builds, a wave of pleasure cresting deep within you. Tashi’s mouth captures yours once more as she snakes a hand down your front, nimble fingers circling your clit giving you just what you need to reach your end. Again.

With that the rubber band in your belly snaps and you come with a startled cry, pleasured tears leaking from the corner of your eyes as you clench around Art’s thick cock. His hips falter only for a moment as he chases his own release, and soon you feel his cock twitch within your warm walls, his spend blooming inside of you.

Tashi smiles proudly as you and Art ride out your highs, the pair of you moaning, limbs jerking from the exertion. Everything’s a game to her. And she always wins. 

“Just like that,” she murmurs, hips still swirling around Art’s face, “Oh god I’m—” 

You watch as her thighs tense, her head dips and her eyes squeeze shut as her orgasm crashes over her at last. 

Carefully you ease Art’s softening cock from within you and lay between the both of them. Tashi on your left, Art on your right. You’re facing Tashi, watching as she comes down from her high, feeling Art’s chest press against your back.

It’s quiet for a moment, the soft sound of a kiss being pressed to your shoulder the only noise in the room. Art snakes a hand around your waist, fingers brushing the soft skin of your tummy. You giggle slightly at the ticklish sensation which causes him to bite down gently on your shoulder. Tashi simply watches, wetting her lips. 

“On the courts at five tomorrow,” she says, before standing, “I’ll run us a bath.”

Art sighs and you can’t help but agree with his subtle frustration. Back to business.

“Whatever you say, coach.”

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected 🩵

[gutsby]

Love Tap

Pairing: Dad!Joel x Reader

Summary: Old habits die hard with your husband—touching you at inappropriate times is one of them.

Warnings: 18+. Joel Miller is a MUNCH Oral (f!receiving). Unprotected p-in-v (quickie). Slice of life, domestic-style and Joel calls you ‘Mama’ a whole lot. One playful bite.

Word count: 2.4k

Note: ‘You better back the fuck up before you get smacked the fuck up’ is a line from 2Pac’s song, ‘Hit ‘Em Up.’

Joel Miller was a wonderful father.

Occasionally, he forgot how to act like one.

He had a tendency to get a little careless. Sloppy.

Letting the dignified, ever-respectful façade slip every now and again and smacking your ass when you walked past. Copping a feel when you had to squeeze by him in the kitchen. Best of all, pinching your cheek through your skirt while you were cradling the baby—his baby—and leaving you no choice but to shoot him a quick back-the-fuck-up-before-you-get-smacked-the-fuck-up look and a covert middle finger to remind him that he wasn’t supposed to be slapping your butt in front of the kids.

It was just bad practice to engage in those dumb, flirty antics, particularly when your four-year-old son had made it his mission in life to imitate everything dad did.

But again, Joel would sometimes forget that.

On a morning when he’d woken up a little too early with an erection that was a tad too stubborn to ignore, he got especially forgetful. He found himself plastered to your backside at the edge of the bathroom counter with a grin, knowing damn well you only had twenty-five minutes to get the family dressed, fed, and on the road.

“Joel, you are so—”

“Quick. I’ll be quick.”

His eyes suddenly pleading with yours in the mirror. You just might’ve had the willpower to turn his honeyed gaze away were it not for the lips that followed it. Tracing the shell of your ear and behind it, down your neck, leaving trails of soft kisses down the skin until he reached the collarbone, your sweet spot, and licked it—the bastard.

“Five. Minutes.” Your words were equal parts invitation and warning as you shimmied your PJs over your butt.

“You know I’ll have ya finished in two, sweet pea,” Joel teased—but deep down, you knew he wasn’t kidding.

Both of you had cum and were done in a record-breaking four and a half minutes, swapping pyjamas for normal clothes in less than half the time and stepping back out of the bathroom with your hair only marginally tousled.

By now you had the ‘Pre-K starts in thirty’ types of quickies down pat. You were proud. You glanced over your shoulder to see a similar glint in Joel’s eye, and as you started out the bedroom door, you felt a tap on your ass—or, with the sheer breadth of your husband’s hand, more like a WHACK, followed by the sound of a stifled laugh.

“Can Daddy get some more’a that later?” he quipped.

“More’a what?”

Aw, hell.

Your sweet, forever nosy mini-Joel was standing directly in front of you with two pinched brows and a mostly eaten dino nugget clenched tight in his tiny fist.

You opened your mouth to conjure up some half-assed excuse for the spank your son just saw, but then your husband was scooping the kid up in his arms and toting him straight down the hallway, and you heard, faintly:

“Whatcha gettin’ from Mama later?”

“None of your beeswax, bubs.”

Joel got his second helping around lunchtime.

He’d been in between calls with what felt like an endless stream of subcontractors, suppliers, architects, and project managers when he swung by the house. You were in the midst of baking cardamom buns when he blew through the kitchen like an EF5 tornado and decided he’d be feasting on something else entirely.

“Joel, my buns,” you whined as soon as he’d carried you up the stairs and tossed you onto the bed, eager as ever.

“Fuck your buns.”

“You already fucked ‘em this morning—can you relax?”

Your husband already had your pants tugged halfway down your legs. You let him, then helped him kick the fabric the rest of the way off when it got to your ankles.

“You’re a fuckin’ maniac, Miller, y’know that?”

Something in the way he smirked as he sank his face between your bare thighs told you he already knew that. You would’ve liked to try and scold him again—give him a little more grief for the baked treats that would surely be burnt to a crisp by the time he was done—but then you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your slit, and you refrained.

Even if you’d wanted to, you scarcely would’ve been able to form a single word apart from, ‘Fu-cking hell, Joel’ and ‘Right there, right thereohfuuuuuuckfuckfuck.’

That was just fine by your husband.

In fact, he seemed perfectly content to lap at your slick, glistening folds while you moaned and cursed his name; it made him proud. Appreciative. Maybe even a tad too smug for his own good, if he were being honest, because the way you fisted his hair and rutted your hips against his face made you act a little more like him. A touch more reckless, sloppy, and desperate than your daily obligations as parents would seem to allow. A bit less proper and refined and a lot more slutty—all for him.

Joel teased your clit with a few soft touches from the tip of his tongue, and you almost tore the sheets in two.

“That feel good, Mama?” he hummed.

“F-Fingers, fuck, Joel— fingers,” you begged.

Still using his tongue, Joel drew the shape of a lemniscate extra slow just to spite you. You whined and bucked your hips in protest, but the man was undeterred—he knew exactly what he was doing. The only way he could be tempted to use his fingers now would be to spread your lips apart and lick you more, which he did.

Joel licked and sucked and drove you up the fucking wall with those figure eights until you nearly couldn’t take it. In one hasty, desperate move, you tilted your hips and tried to slip a finger past Joel’s mouth, into your cunt.

He bit that finger. You yelped.

“JOEL!”

It wasn’t that the bite actually hurt—his teeth barely grazed skin—but rather the way he refused to speed up. Gauging your wants and your needs with expert precision, he massaged the hood of your clit with his tongue and took care to plant suckling kisses as he did. You moaned and squeezed the bedspread, relishing the vulgar sounds of his mouth and the need he was building inside you. You turned your head to the side and whined into the pillow, knowing from the depths of your soul you needed release, but Joel just wouldn’t oblige you…yet.

When he grinned against your wet, warm, and slippery folds, his mouth might as well have joined in and said, ‘Keep going—you’ll cum on my tongue when I say so.’

Instead, Joel opted to say ‘Mama’ again, softly.

Mama.

He always called you that when he took you extra slow. Sometimes when he took you quick, too. Like a reminder to you both that you were, in fact, the mother of his children, and if the man had had it his way he’d have given you fifty more by now, daycare bills be damned.

He was generous like that. Always giving, giving, giving.

Just not when it came to doling out orgasms sometimes.

“I have a divorce lawyer on speed dial, just so you know,” you hissed through gritted teeth, head falling back when Joel’s tongue sank forward—inside you, then, “FUCK!”

“Mhmmm,” he hummed before retracting once more. Licking the soft, fleshy rim and nearly eliciting a scream.

Joel traced a circle with his tongue. He savored the taste. While you were whining and grinding your hips against the wet spot underneath you—a puddle that would only grow larger the longer he went on—your husband was devouring you, kissing your thighs every now and then.

“Well, if we split, my tongue goes too,” Joel said. Smug.

“Texas is a community property state,” you murmured, “I taught you how to eat pussy so your mouth is a marital asset.”

Silently, Joel wondered how that argument might hold up in court, grinned, then continued licking your cunt. You squeezed his head with your thighs, dug the balls of your feet in the sheets, and let out a lewd, pornographic scream that could’ve woken half the street. Luckily, your neighbors were probably all at work, your bedroom walls insulated just well enough to mask the noise, and Joel’s resolve crumbling slowly as he kissed between your legs.

One wanton, shameless, ‘I’m gonna cum, Joel, please’ was like music to his ears. He couldn’t believe how lucky he’d gotten with a wife and mother as sweet as you, so upright and polite in your day-to-day life and then a hot, trembling mess beneath his tongue when he needed you like this the most. Surely he couldn’t treat you so mean.

Joel wedged two thick fingers in your slick, dripping heat and beckoned you to him as kindly as he possibly could. Rubbing the pads of both digits, callused as they were, against the spongy insides of your core and flicking them forward—‘C’mere, Mama, Daddy’s right here, go on’— so of course, you had no other logical choice but to cum.

It was all habit by now. A dazzling, sumptuous routine.

And Joel Miller was certain he’d never tire of seeing it.

Your spine arched off the mattress an inch or two, toes curling at the feeling, and while the sensation spanned over your body, your husband was the first to see it, sense it on his lips and tongue and fingers just as well. He squeezed your hip, told you how fucking pretty you looked when you came for him, then patiently waited out the spasms and cries and fingers lacing through his soft, dark locks like he was your last remaining tether to earth.

Then he kissed the inside of your thighs and smiled.

“All better, honey?” he hummed.

“Yeah,” you breathed back.

“Still want a divorce?”

A smirk and a response of ‘Not until you knock me up at least one more time’ was hovering somewhere over your tongue when you felt the bed shake. Buzzing. Vibrating?

Joel sat up between your legs and yanked something out from under his ass. He peered down at the thing—staring into a screen—and cocked a brow as he looked back up.

“Someone’s been naughty,” he said simply. Grinning.

He lobbed the phone your way, and you just barely managed to catch it between two trembling hands.

Incoming Call: Francisco C. Morales Elementary

You shot Joel a look and answered it instantly.

Disoriented, disheveled, and slightly foggy from climax, you half-expected to find one of your son’s disgruntled teachers on the other end of the line, reminding you that today was a noon dismissal and everyone was supposed to pick their kids up an hour ago. Your husband was the one who would always keep up with school schedules, so your gaze narrowed at him, butt scooting up the bed while he tried to dive right back between your legs.

“He-llo?”

You smacked a hand away from the front of your blouse.

“Is this Mrs. Miller?” a voice trilled through the phone.

Yes, unfortunately, it was.

You almost had to backhand Joel across the face when he tried to bite the button off your brand new top, teeth ruthless in their pursuit of getting you fully naked now.

“This is she,” you squeaked.

Someone cleared their throat on the other end of the line—as though they knew you had a broad, hulking husband with a cock as hard as sheet metal trying to tear your clothes off while you talked. You stifled a shriek and a giggle when you felt your relentless man move down.

Joel was busy working your blouse from the bottom with that feral mouth of his when the voice sounded again:

“We’d really appreciate it if you and your husband could come see us this afternoon to have a little chat about—”

Your eyes widened. You clutched your phone even tighter and this time, more seriously, shoved Joel away. When he frowned and started to pout, you raised a finger.

“A-About what? Has my— has he done something bad?” Your voice all of a sudden tight, words wavering just enough to snag your husband’s attention too.

“We can explain more when you get here, he’s just…”

‘What the fuck?’ Joel mouthed silently, leaning in.

“What? What’s he done?” You couldn’t help it.

You heard a long sigh across the line, and you knew that wasn’t good. It sounded a lot like the kind of sighs you made whenever your baby made a colossal mess all over the kitchen floor, or your husband slammed a door too loud and woke the kids from their nap, or your son just—

“—keeps slapping his classmates on the butt.”

“Wait, what?”

You blinked. Joel coughed. Together, half-naked on the bed, you sat up a little straighter and leaned even closer into the phone, hearts starting to thud in your chests.

“Your son was just…spanking other kids and asking if he could ‘get some more’a that later,’ and when his teacher asked him where he’d learned to do a thing like that—”

You turned. Joel paled. Your gaze could’ve seared a hole through the front of his skull if you stared any harder, and just as your son’s principal continued talking, Joel raised his hands in surrender, already trying to apologize.

“Honey—”

“—and he told her he saw your husband do it at home—”

You didn’t need to hear another word. You were already fishing for your pants, yanking them back up your legs and brushing aside your husband’s soft, red-faced attempts at consolation, and when you were dressed, you started straight for the door. Already babbling some half-coherent apology to the woman on the phone, dodging Joel’s impossibly large hands and arms and hugs as he tried to pull you back into his chest and tell you he was sorry. You just might’ve let him, and maybe even believed him to be sincere, if you didn’t see the tiniest smirk on his lips as he fought to wrangle you in.

You’d made it to the door and were just about to pivot to give Joel the finger, tell him this was not funny at all, and he was coming with you right now, when both of you halted at the threshold and were obliged to turn again.

You sniffed the air, and your husband made a face.

Was it—

Before you could think, a plume of smoke drifted out through the kitchen door. Your eyes widened, and right as the fire alarm let out its piercing scream, you wailed,

“My buns!”

[undertheorangetree]

Tantrum

Summary- Art’s girlfriend sucks at tennis. He helps her feel better.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Stanford era Art. Exhibitionism. Body worship. Cunnilingus. Wee bit of fingering. P in V sex. Riding. The fluffiest giggliest sex you've ever seen. Me not knowing a damn thing about tennis.

Author's Note- Hi idk if you noticed but i have Challengers brain rot rn specifically for Art Donaldson :// As a theatre kid I simply had no choice it was always gonna be him. Read the full fic on AO3.

When Art had looked up at her with big pleading eyes, all but begging her to allow him to teach her the basics of tennis, she was in no position to refuse. It had been sweet, how badly he wanted to share his passion with her, the kisses he had peppered across her neck and chest in order to entice her into it, and she couldn’t so much as imagine denying him. Forget the fact that she had never held a racket in her life, that her strengths had always been rooted in academia rather than athletics.  If allowing him to teach her would make him happy, she would do it.

Though not without complaint.

She lets out a frustrated grunt as the ball hits the net- again- before turning her head up to glare at Art when he barely manages to stifle his laugh. He smothers it immediately when he catches sight of her glower, hand coming up to rub at his mouth as if he can physically wipe away his smile and she feels her teeth grind together.

“You can’t laugh. You’re the one who wanted me to do this so you’re not allowed to make fun of me,” she complains, her voice half petulance half hurt and immediately his face morphs into something more apologetic.

“I’m sorry baby.” He makes his way closer but she simply rolls her eyes, turning her nose up when he reaches out to her. He takes it in stride. “I’m not laughing at you, you’re doing very well. It’s just funny to see you so frustrated.”

It’s her turn to laugh, though it is little more than a humourless bark. “I am not doing very well. I suck.”

He makes a sympathetic noise as he attempts to reach for her again. She allows it begrudgingly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as his hands close around her elbows, face dropping into her neck to press a kiss there. She thinks that he’s about to praise her further, try to coax her back into committing herself to the game, but he stays silent, continuing to lavish her with silent kisses.

She’s happy for the odd hour they decided to come here, the tennis court completely devoid of any other life. It’s a colder night than it should be for mid spring, the floodlights and moon the only two things to provide them with any light, and she’s grateful finals have chased everyone else away. She’s glad to have this time alone with him, despite her frustration. To feel like they are the only two people in the world.

“You’re just hitting the ball too hard,” he explains, face still half buried in her throat. “And you aren’t even attempting to aim. Putting everything you have behind the hit doesn’t make it a good one if you don’t know where you’re sending it. There’s more to tennis than just force, you have to be smart about it.”

She scoffs, reaching up to press her palm against his forehead and shove him away, ignoring the shit eating grin that’s made itself known on his face. “Just go over there and hit the damn ball. Before I leave you here by yourself.”

The grin doesn’t fade, his amusement more than clear, but he does as she asks, returning to his side of the court. She lets out another aggravated sigh as she returns to the position he had told her to wait in, knees bent as she waits for him to serve, realizing more and more that she prefers to watch him play tennis rather than do it with him. She finds far more joy watching him from the stands as he chases after the ball, sweat dripping from his curls and grunts echoing in her ears. Here, where she is the one chasing the ball like a damn dog and failing to send it sailing over the net when she does manage to catch it, there is no time to admire Art in his element.

She almost feels bad for her poor attitude, wishing she was less competitive so that she could simply enjoy this quality time with him, but every failure does nothing but enrage her further, sending her spiralling further into frustration.

Read the rest here :)