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missadangel · 4 months ago

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MAKE HIM DISLIKE LOVE YOU

Harry Castillo x Reader (The Materialists)

Chapter 1: Blind Date

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Summary: You work as a housekeeper in a rich family's mansion and often have to deal with their spoiled daughter. One day, she asks you to pretend to be her on a blind date with a guy her dad picked out for her. Your mission is to make him not like you so he won't want to marry her. But here's the twist: will Harry end up hating you, or could he actually fall for you? That's the real question. Warnings: 18+ (smut, MDNI) kinda romantic comedy stuff, fluffy, angst, lying, soft and caring Harry Castillo, Lucy as his ex, John as Lucy's ex, wealth, expensive gifts, drinks, money, cars, language, sexual tension, oral sex, p in v sex, kissing, slow burn, power imbalance, I might have missed some warnings; I will update them in due time. Word Count: 4.8k for now, There will be a part two if you guys like it, but I'm not sure about the rest. Sorry for the poor writing; that was quick. authors note: I am not sure about his name. If there's any update, I will edit. English is not my native, so please be nice; this is my third fanfiction. Thank you for the reblogs, comments, and likes. Love you all!

"Ugh, this dress is so last season! Are you serious? Everything here is out of style—get rid of them! Call Elliot and have them send me another dress, or I'm going to be really pissed!"

As if tossed at you like a used handkerchief, another dress worth thousands of dollars—perhaps only worn once—landed in your hands. You sighed as you looked at the elegant dress you were now holding, the Gucci label glinting under the light.

"Story of my life," you mumbled.

Working as a housekeeper in a millionaire's house was hard enough, but dealing with his spoiled and ill-tempered daughter was exhausting. Yet you were determined that it would soon be over. You could no longer endure this physical and psychological torture. With the money you had saved, you planned to open your own restaurant—fulfilling your dream. You just needed to save a little more and hang in there a bit longer.

Your boss was a decent, kind man, but his daughter was so unbearable that every housekeeper assigned left the next day.

How do you even tolerate her?

Because you didn’t have the luxury of quitting and waiting for a new job. You were still young and trying to establish yourself in the business. The extra pay you received was simply to endure her antics. Your kind millionaire boss had even promised you all the support you needed, suggesting you could quit your day job and focus solely on managing his daughter’s affairs. But how could you have known it would be so challenging? Still, you managed to get through each day and believed you could endure this for just a little while longer. After all, you had survived three challenging years already, right?

The mansion was enormous, and everything inside was meticulously organized. Everyone—housekeepers, gardeners, cooks, and even the owners—followed a disciplined daily routine.

Except for the young lady of the house.

You never knew when she would wake up or come downstairs to join her family at the dinner table. She was stubborn, mean, and unpredictable, and you had to manage her behavior just as you managed her dresses, her dates, and her friends. Because you were responsible for her, there were times when you wished you could handle all the housework yourself and let someone else take care of her demands. Despite being just an ordinary housekeeper, your name was the one that echoed the most throughout this vast mansion.

Why?

Because the young lady constantly called on you to fulfill her never-ending requests. And it was one of those moments again. Since it was evening, you guessed she was probably getting ready for a night out at the club, and you felt a surge of annoyance as you rushed to her room.

"I can't believe I was a size 8 before starting this job; now I'm down to a size 6," you mumbled to yourself, quickly making your way up the stairs.

One of the cleaners dusting the vases in the hallway shot you a wink and let out a sigh. Man, you’d do just about anything to be in her shoes, just taking care of that vase!

As soon as you knocked on the door, the young lady Melanie opened it, pulled you inside by the arm, and slammed the door shut behind you. You were taken aback—had you made a mistake? It had only been two hours since you last saw her; you had picked up her clothes off the floor and taken them to the laundry room. She had seemed content, busy texting on her phone. What could have possibly happened in such a short time?

“Is something wrong?” you asked, your eyes wide. For some reason, she looked super tense and nervous.

“You’ve gotta help me,” she said almost desperately, which caught you off guard; it was pretty rare for her to ask for help like this, very rare.

“Of course, if I know what’s going on…”

“Remember that thing we did with the senator's son? I need you to do something like that again.”

You froze for a moment. She was referring to something you had helped her with before—something you weren't very proud of.

“Oh, but—” you frowned. “You said I’d never have to do anything like that again.”

Years ago, you had done your best to disguise yourself as Melanie to turn off the senator's son and prevent him from marrying her. It had worked, but lying to someone was a real headache. Thankfully, Melanie's father hadn’t suspected a thing, but the thought of risking it again felt scarier than anything else.

“I know, I know, but I’m in a tough spot. My dad has been speaking with a matchmaker again to arrange a match for me. After the scandal at the club last time, he's determined to marry me off for sure. Please, I need your help.”

How could she still act so childish in her late twenties? As she looked at you with those pleading eyes, memories of all the times she’d yelled at you and scolded you flashed in your mind. It was fine when you were more like her special assistant instead of just a housekeeper, but now it feels like you’re just a toy to her. When she wants to have fun, she plays with you—almost like you’re her little slave or something.

“I’m not here for that,” you said firmly. “That is not my job.” Your patience was running thin, and this was just too much.

“But you’re supposed to help me,” she shot back, stubborn as ever. “And it’ll be easier this time, I promise.”

You narrowed your eyes and said, “We got caught last time when the guy found out and cursed both of us. Do you have any idea how hard that was for me? And if your father discovers what we’re up to this time…”

She replied with a grin, “We won’t get caught this time because I already sent them your photo instead of mine. Besides, you know how my father is strict about always having my picture removed from newspapers and magazines.”

“You did what?” you wailed.

“Chill, it’s all figured out. I’ve been working on this since last week. You’ll have dinner with the guy, pretend to be me, scare him off, and boom! He won’t want to hear my name again. Easy peasy!”

You rolled your eyes. “But he’s surely seen your photo somewhere; he can’t be that clueless.”

“No, he’s a very busy businessman. He has lived abroad for years and has just returned from France. He’s looking to set up his business here in New York,” she said as she opened her laptop and pulled up a webpage with information about the man. “It seems he’s also looking for a suitable match,” she continued, glancing at his photo and pursing her lips.

You froze when you looked at the photo; he wasn’t at all what you expected. He appeared to be a mature, charismatic, and intelligent man. But how could you sit opposite this man and pretend to be someone else? The thought made you shudder, raising the tiny hairs on the back of your neck.

“As you can see, he’s much older than me. I don’t think he’ll tolerate disrespect. If you’re disrespectful to him, he might get annoyed and just leave the table,” she said with a chuckle.

You laughed too, but for a different reason. You were sure that if she went to the meeting herself, he would get up and leave when he saw her personality.

“I think you should go; maybe he won’t like you,” you suggested.

She narrowed her eyes at you like she'd just caught you saying something crazy. “He won’t like me? Seriously?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder with a cocky grin. “Anyway, I can’t risk it. I don’t want to marry him or anyone else, and I definitely don’t want to be stuck in the same room with that old man.”

As if I want it so much, you thought.

“Come on, please do this for me! I promise I’ll be good; I won’t make you work too hard. I’ll ask Dad to give you a nice raise,” she said, clasping her hands together and trying to look cute.

Well, good raise would mean you could quit your job and bail out of here earlier, right? You crossed your arms and glanced back at the laptop screen, staring at the photo of that guy—Harry Castillo. You made a decision that you had no idea would change everything in both his life and yours.

“Fine. When’s dinner?” you said, feeling a bit anxious.

“Oh, you’re the best! I knew you couldn’t say no!” she said excitedly. “This Saturday.”

“But that’s only two days away,” you pointed out, feeling even more nervous.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you all set. Just make sure you displease him,” she grinned.

You sighed deeply, already sure you’d regret this choice.

“Don’t you think this dress is a bit… exaggerated?” you muttered, looking at yourself in the mirror.

It was an elegant burgundy dress��strappy, satin, and adorned with pearl details—the kind of designer item you could never afford, even if you worked your entire life.

“Am I trying to make him hate me or make him fall for me?” you asked, frowning.

Melanie rolled her eyes. “Don’t worry; he’ll never fall in love with you,” she said arrogantly. This was typical behavior for her, so you chose to ignore it. “As much as you want to annoy him, remember that you represent me. I don’t want anyone gossiping that Melanie Johanson is wearing a lame dress,” she continued while picking out a matching purse.

“But everyone knows I’m not you, except that poor guy.”

“I don’t suppose you were planning to wear one of your own skimpy outfits,” she remarked. “Do you want our game to be exposed?”

That was too much—being scolded and being forced to do something so ridiculous for this spoiled girl.

“Fine, go to that dinner yourself then,” you said, slipping off your heels.

She grabbed your arms. “No, no, no, please. Okay, I’m sorry I was rude. But I need you; no one else would do something like this for me.”

“It’s good that you realize that,” you muttered.

“Here, take this; it’s time,” she said, giving you a smile.

Honestly, putting up with Melanie’s constant demands, cleaning up after her, and covering for her felt like child’s play compared to what you were facing tonight.

A nice raise, you keep telling yourself trying to soothe yourself. I’m doing this for my restaurant; I’ll get it started someday.

The restaurant was one of the most famous, expensive, and luxurious places in New York—somewhere you would never normally set foot in. But tonight, thanks to Melanie’s name, you could easily get in. You were overwhelmed by the incredibly polite behavior of the restaurant staff.

Melanie may have been extravagant and reckless, but she had thought of almost everything for tonight—from the driver who brought you here to the all restaurant staff.

All this effort was for one purpose: to rid herself of the matchmaker’s match.

When they took your fur coat at the entrance and told you that Mr. Castillo was waiting for you, you took a deep breath. After one step inside, when you saw him, you nearly backed away. Harry was busy on his phone, scribbling notes in his small notebook. He looked really sharp and stylish—way more handsome and appealing than in the photo.

Damn.

You wanted to escape; you wished to put an end to this nonsense before it even began. Without realizing it, your feet started to move backward. Just then, you turned around and accidentally bumped into the waiter behind you, causing him to drop the champagne glasses he was carrying on his tray. The glasses shattered, and champagne spilled all over his outfit. You cursed yourself for the mishap.

Before you could even respond, the waiter apologized. “No, it was my fault; I’m sorry,” you said nervously, trying to wipe off the champagne from his clothes.

The other waiter and the staff stared at you in shock.

Yes, you were a wealthy lady now, but what harm was there in being polite?

"No, ma'am, I should have been more careful," he said before turning and walking away.

"Miss Johnson?" said a soft, deep voice.

You turned around to meet him and felt almost breathless. There he was, few inches taller than you, with broad shoulders, curly hair, deep-set brown eyes, a sharp nose, and an attractive appearance.

"Melanie, right?"

"Y-yes," you stammered, batting your eyelashes.

And that smile! For a moment, the world seemed to stop; all the sounds in the restaurant faded, and you almost forgot why you were there.

"I'm Harry," he said, holding out his hand. It took you so long to look at his face that you nearly forgot to acknowledge his hand. He laughed again, that wonderful smile lighting up his face. "My hand has been waiting for a while," he said teasingly.

You felt your cheeks flush as you realized what he meant. "I'm sorry," you replied, quickly reaching out to shake his waiting hand. His hand was big and warm. "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long," you mumbled, feeling embarrassed. You knew you needed to work up the courage.

“Not really,” he said with a grin. “Shall we head to our table? Or do you want to stay here all night?”

“S-sure,” you said sheepishly.

Well, there wasn't much you could do about it. This wasn't just about him being wealthy or handsome. Even if it was a fake date, it had been years since you'd been on a date, and you didn’t know many men in your life.

Dinner was harder than you expected. Even though you and Melanie had practiced what you should and shouldn't say, your fears came to light. Harry seemed kind and understanding, and it was difficult to lie to him, which made you hate every minute of it. It got worse when he started grilling you with questions, and you weren't sure how much longer you could keep up with this silly game.

When you excused yourself to go to the restroom, you called Melanie.

"What do you mean he hasn't left the restaurant yet?"

"I don't know; the conversation got a little long, and he kept asking questions about me, I mean you."

"Do something to make him hate you already!"

“But how? Throw wine at him? This is all ridiculous. I think we should just tell the truth.”

"Don't you dare!" she barked.

Her voice was so loud that you had to smile apologetically when the other women in the ladies room looked at you strangely, hearing your end of the conversation.

"What am I supposed to do? Our plan isn't working."

“What's up with this guy? He should’ve bailed by now.” Melanie grunted.

“He seems nice—I doubt he’d be rude like that.”

“Rude! That’s the ticket; just be rude enough that he can’t stand it.”

“What? Seriously?”

“Yep, you heard me. Just be as rude as you can.”

You let out a sigh, really wishing you could just bang your head against the wall right now.

“I said do it, or you'll ruin everything. Call me when you’re done.”

“But what am I gonna— Hello? Darn it!”

Beep… Beep… Beep…

She hung up.

You’ll have to be rude, how wonderful! But she was right; you needed to get rid of this man for the night to end and for you to return to your normal life. Why did he have to be so nice and kind? If he could ever act like a jerk, you would have done it by now, but he was just too sweet. As you looked in the mirror, you thought of all the rude things a lady wouldn’t normally do. Ah, that sounds familiar; it reminds you of Melanie herself. The very thought of her actions made you smile nervously. You took a deep breath and left the restroom.

Encouraging yourself, you gazed at Harry's handsome face from afar.

You can do it, you can do it...

Your first move: act indifferent.

You changed your facial expression as you approached the table and deliberately looked away from his face. He was smiling warmly at you. No, you couldn't look at him; it would only complicate everything. You were about to apologize for being late, but no, you can’t. Instead, you pulled your chair noisily on purpose, scraping its legs on the floor to create an annoying sound. You sat down and crossed your legs, positioning your body so it wasn't fully facing him. Harry seemed surprised by this sudden shift in your mood, but he didn’t comment.

A little later, as your desserts were served, he looked at you, “I like chocolate cake too, especially with pistachio sauce. We have similar tastes,” grinning at you.

You looked at him and then at the waiter. “I don’t want this,” you said angrily.

“But ma'am, you ordered it,” the poor man replied sheepishly.

“I’ve changed my mind,” you said. “I’ll go with the tiramisu,” you added after a quick look at the menu, making sure to glance away casually.

“Sure, I’ll change it right away,” he said, taking your plate and walking back.

“Are you all right?” Harry asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“I’m great,” you lied, forcing a fake grin.

He didn’t ask any further questions, but he seemed to suspect something had changed. When the waiter brought your dessert, you decided to eat it rudely. You were sure Harry would be disgusted as you devoured your dessert quickly and rather rudely as if you were starving. You didn’t look at him again until you finished your plate. When you finally glanced up, your stomach feeling a bit nauseous, the look on his face was not what you had expected. He was smiling at you admiringly.

What the hell was that?

Shouldn’t he have shown disgust or displeasure, just like the people at the next table who were staring at you with disdain?

But not Harry, not him. Why, God, why?

As if teasing you, he laughed and reached for a napkin on the table, wiping the remnants of dessert from the corner of your lips. “You’ve got quite the sweet tooth, don’t you, sweet girl?”

How could he be so nice, even after everything?

“Want to eat mine too?” he joked again. Clearly, you were amusing him instead of grossing him out. Ugh, just what you needed. Why was this so hard?

“It’s the cream in it,” you said, a bit defensive. If you were going to get into a battle of words, you might as well dive in.

When he looked at you, confused, you thought you saw a glimmer of hope. Maybe you could annoy him with your gourmet knowledge.

“The Marsala wine is in the cream; it’s a secret recipe,” you said, trying to sound smart.

Harry paused eating his dessert, rested his elbow on the table, and gave you an admiring look. “Interesting. I didn’t know you were into cooking. That wasn’t in the info.” That familiar warm smile was back.

Crap. Another mess-up.

“I get it—you’re keeping it under wraps from your dad. I want you to feel comfortable talking about your hobbies when you’re with me.”

When you’re with him? Damn, that was supposed to be the first and last time you saw him. You started playing with your fingers in your hair out of nervousness.

Think, think, think. All you had left was to use the only card you had.

“Look, Harry, I’ll be frank. I don’t plan to see you again.”

Suddenly, he stopped. “Didn’t you like me?” he asked softly.

Was it possible not to like this man? But damn it, you had to lie. You looked away; it was hard to read his expression.

“You’ve probably heard about me from the tabloids. I’m not the type of woman to get attached to just one man. My father put me up to this matchmaker thing; I didn’t intend to.” You admitted this indirectly. He deserved a little honesty, didn’t he? “I’ve had and will have many men in my life. I don’t plan to get married. I mean, you’re not special. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

When you looked at his face timidly, you realized you got the reaction you had been waiting for since the beginning of the night. His smile vanished; his expression hardened, and the color of his eyes darkened.

But why did your heart squeeze when you should have felt relieved?

When they brought your coat, you thanked them and turned to Harry for the last time. You would probably never see him again. You felt fortunate to have had the chance to meet and get to know this man, even briefly. He would probably forget you anyway; why would he remember you?

“Can I give you a ride home so we can end things on a good note?” he asked, sounding a bit unsure.

You definitely didn’t see that coming. You paused, trying to figure out what to say. It would’ve been easier to just say no, but his eyes were so mesmerizing that if he’d asked you to spill all your secrets right then, you might have done it without even thinking.

“Sure,” you replied, feeling shy.

When the valet brought Harry's car around, your jaw dropped. This black, late-model Mercedes Benz S was probably worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. Your interest in cars stemmed from your childhood; your mother always complained that you didn't like dresses and jewelry like other girls—rather, you liked cars. It was clear you were different, and you had always been that way.

Just like the situation you found yourself in now. Maybe there was something wrong with you.

The two of you were silent the entire ride. You didn’t look directly at him, but you could feel his gaze on you out of the corner of your eye. However, you were more captivated by the interior of the car. When would you ever get to ride in such a luxury vehicle again? It wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look. As you glanced towards his side to check out the control panel and see how much horsepower the car had, he caught your eye, causing you to quickly turn your head away. You had to suppress your curiosity.

"We’ll turn right here," you said as you approached the junction. Down the street, the giant mansion loomed, so close to your destination. You stole a quick glance at him, realizing this might be the only time you would see this man in person. You wanted to remember his handsome face.

Suddenly, Harry slammed on the brakes, and the car screeched to a halt. Your eyes widened in surprise as you looked at him, startled that he had stopped so abruptly near the mansion. What had caused him to suddenly halt? He didn’t say a word, just stared at you, and his eyes seemed to communicate something intense. Was he angry and no longer wanting your company?

You unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle, only to find it locked.

“Stay still,” he said as he unlocked the car doors.

What was he implying? He walked around the front of the car, reached your side, and opened your door.

Was this chivalry? If so, why did he stay away from the mansion?

“Aren’t you getting out?” His voice was kinda cold.

You didn’t know how to respond. You stepped out of the car without saying a word.

“Thanks for the ride��”

Suddenly, he grabbed your arm—not roughly, but with a firm, questioning grip. His gaze was intense, but why did he look that way? Had he figured it all out? Maybe he was about to confront you for making a fool of yourself. After all, you had been willing to be open, and now you felt you deserved it. But you didn’t have the courage to meet his eyes, so you lowered your head.

“You were lying, weren’t you?”

Shit.

You swallowed hard; this was the moment you had dreaded.

“I-I…”

What were you going to say? How would you even say it?

You were fucked.

Suddenly, Harry pinched your chin with one hand, forcing you to look at him while his other hand rested on your waist. He tilted his head toward you, his hot breath brushing against your face, making your heart race. His lips were dangerously close to yours, and you could feel your throat going dry. What the hell was he going to do? Kissing you or scolding you? After what felt like an eternity, he pulled you closer by the arm around your waist and kissed you.

It had been a long time since you kissed someone, so you were almost shocked by his sudden kiss. No matter how hard you tried to stop yourself, you finally closed your eyes and surrendered to him completely. Your surrendering gave him courage and he deepened the kiss, his hot tongue licking your lips and forcing them apart. While his expert hand lingered on the swell of your breasts teasingly, you moaned and opened your mouth for him and when his tongue touched yours, you could still taste the chocolate from the dessert he had just eaten.

But suddenly, Harry pulled his head back, breaking the kiss and all contact. Instinctively mesmerized, you leaned forward, eyes closed and mouth agape. When you finally opened your eyes, you caught him snickering, and as the embarrassment of the situation hit you, you wished you could disappear. You instinctively pressed your hand to your burning lips and pressed hem together. Harry licked his lips and grinned. "Just as I predicted. You lied to me. There's no way another man has touched you recently."

For a second, your mind went blank, and you just stared at him, blinking in confusion. What the heck did he mean by that? "Y-you... w-what..." Great, now you couldn't even put together a simple sentence.

What next?

Just then, your phone started ringing. When you opened your purse to get it, Harry reached for it before you could. Fortunately, you had saved Melanie in your phone under a special nickname, not her real name. Harry laughed, raising his eyebrows in surprise and amusement. "Trouble?"

Yes, you had saved her as trouble.

"Can you hand my phone back, please?" you said, holding out your hands, but he caught them with one hand and gently pushed them away.

“Your trouble can wait,” he said, rejecting Melanie’s call. He dialed a number on your phone, but realized what he was doing when his own phone started ringing.

“There, now you have my number,” he said, handing your phone back to you.

You frowned and grabbed your phone angrily, "What makes you think I’d actually call you?"

Harry shrugged, pursing his lips. “Shouldn't I call you before I come to pick you up for our next date? I guess I could just come by your house and honk the horn instead.”

“What?” you exclaimed.

He grinned.

You took a deep breath to release some of your tension. “Harry, why are you doing this? There won’t be a next date; I told you that.”

“One chance,” he said firmly.

“A chance of what?”

"I want you to give me a chance. A real date. If, at the end of the night, you still feel the same way, I promise you’ll never see me again."

You shook your head. "But why? You’re a man who can have any woman you want. You’re rich, handsome, and kind—why waste your time on someone who doesn’t want you?"

You saw something in his brown eyes, something you couldn’t quite identify, but it was intense. “Because you're different from others,” he said sharply. “True, women are not unattainable for me; they are always around. But what I want is someone special, and I feel that you are the one. There’s something about you that has ignited something in me I haven't felt in a long time. I must admit, I'm surprised; I never thought I’d be attracted to you after reading the news about you, but it seems I was wrong. Can you give me a chance? Please?”

Oh, Harry, there’s so much you don’t know, you thought. Your heart was fluttering at the thought of saying yes, but how could you? How dare you? You weren’t Melanie, the daughter of a wealthy businessman; you were just an ordinary girl.

“You know I won’t leave without hearing your answer, right?” He grunted.

Just then, you heard a car approaching, and you freaked out. That was Melanie’s dad’s car. Your heart nearly stopped.

“You have to go, like, now!” you yelled in a panic.

“First, say yes,” he replied, frowning.

"Si, yes, okay, alright! But please, go now!" you urged, pushing him toward the back of his car. He chuckled in response.

You crouched down to hide your face as the other car drove toward the mansion and pulled him down with you.

“I want you to know I’ve never done anything like this in my life,” he admitted, snickering.

“Is that so funny?” you snapped.

"Okay, I get that you don’t want your dad to see us like this, and I’m curious why, but since you said yes, I’ll be a good guy and leave."

“Yes you do that,” you said with a sigh.

Harry took his phone out of his pocket and waved it before getting into his car. “You’d better answer it when I call,” he said, getting inside. He winked at your puzzled expression and started the engine. His car quickly disappeared from sight along the road. You turned toward the mansion, exhaled deeply, and murmured to yourself.

“I'm so fucked.”

thanks for reading, likes, comments, reblogs are appreciated ❤️

#fanfiction #fanfic #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal #pedro pascal gifs #pedro pascal fanfiction #the materialist #harry castillo #materialists #harry castillo x reader #randy castillo

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rafesangelita · 6 months ago

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♡ just dilf!rafe making sure everything is to his liking when his precious little bunny comes home from all of her beauty appointments!

warnings: fluff, bunny being a lil clingy, suggestive language, use of the nickname ‘daddy’ (pls scroll if it’s not for you), heavy petting, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), praise, finger sucking, slight overstimulation

a/n: i recently got all of my beauty appointments done so this felt fitting lol. read more of dilf!rafe x bunny!reader here <3

wc: 1.4k

while rafe never let you step out of the house by yourself, there was very few instances when he did. going out with your girlfriends and paying for all of your appointments was one of those things, and he didn’t mind in the slightest. the day would start very early in the morning so that you’d have enough time to get everything done. rafe would watch you from the front door as you basically hopped down the driveway in excitement before getting into your best friend’s obnoxiously pink car, your lip gloss still sparkling on his lips from when you kissed him before leaving.

maybe it was the father instinct inside of him, but rafe made it a point to always pay for you and your besties meals, the idea of you going hungry or having an empty stomach just not sitting right with him. you and your friends would start the day by knocking out whatever took the longest, so that all of you could breeze through the extra upkeep and still go shopping afterwards. despite rafe tracking your location and checking where you were at religiously, he still wanted you to text him and send him photos and updates throughout the day.

he’d smile down at his phone whenever your contact name, which you came up with by yourself, would pop up on his screen.

[1:15 PM] bunnie ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡: i miss you sooo much already daddy. thank you for the food it was yummy <3 me and the girls still have a handful of things to do but i’m hoping to be done soon!!

[2:57 PM] bunnie ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡: i think you’re going to reallyyy like the color of my nails!! my toes came out super cute too 🎀

[4:03 PM] bunnie ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡: (1 attached image) look at this pink flatiron at the salon! i need one just like this! pretty pleaseeee!

he’d reply to each message, even going ahead and buying that flatiron with overnight delivery so you could have it in your pretty hands in no time. you two would go on like this until you’d finally send him that ‘on my way!’ text, a relieved sigh falling from his lips. as much as he liked for you to have your girl time, he selfishly wanted to have you all to himself more than anything. rafe had already been anticipating your arrival, your favorite candles already lit up upstairs in his bedroom. it wasn’t long before he heard the faint bump of music outside, your playful yelp sounding from down the driveway as you struggled to carry all of your shopping bags.

rafe was quick to help you out, your best friends teasingly telling him hi as he briefly waved at them before guiding you inside. “oh, i missed you!” you didn’t waste any time in throwing your arms around his neck, the scent of sweet vanilla filling up his senses. you clung to him like a koala, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he made his way upstairs. “yeah? i missed you more.” you breathed him in, smiling softly against his chest as he put your bags down on the chair he had in the corner. “everything go good?” he took a seat at the edge of the bed, resting his hands on the soft globes of your ass.

“mhmm!” you nodded, “i’m happy with how everything came out.” rafe pecked your lips before helping you up on your feet. “let me get a good look at you.” standing up, you couldn’t help but feel shy as he scanned over your figure agonizingly slow. “your hair looks real nice, baby, that style suits you.” your cheeks heated at the simple compliment. “wow look at your lashes, ‘you try out a different lash map?” you gasped softly, hitting his shoulder playfully. “look at you using girly terms!” rafe was bound to learn about the stuff you’d be rambling on and on about, your lashes being one of many things he now knew the intricacies of.

“your eyebrow lady did a real good job, too.” you wiggled your brows suggestively, fluttering your lashes at him while he took your hand in his. “you were right, i absolutely love this color on you,” he took in the pinky nude of your manicure, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles, “let me see those toes.” you giggled, bringing your foot to his lap as you held onto his arms for leverage. “wow, you got a bow charm?” you smiled down at the sight, “yes! isn’t it so cute? she even put on some rhinestones for free because i’m a regular!” rafe massaged the back of your calf, guiding you back down on the bed.

“damn, bunny, and your skin is so soft, you got that full body wax?” you welcomed him between your thighs, running your freshly manicured nail down the side of his jaw. “yes, i know how much you like it..” he kissed you deeply, his lower half grinding down on where you needed him most. you couldn’t help the whine from leaving your lips, your glazed orbs shining with something mischievous. “do you want to see how that came out, too?” rafe smiled, his fingers already hooking between your skirt and the waistband of your panties. “yeah? you gonna let daddy inspect you?”

once your clothes were off and forgotten about on the floor, rafe took your thighs and spread them open to expose your bare cunt, the look on his face making you take your bottom lip between your teeth. “fuck,” he marveled, “you’re just so pretty, you know that?” you smiled, melting under his gentle touch. he looked up at you as if to ask ‘can i?’ before you nodded. rafe sat back on his heels, stroking your glistening folds as you writhed with desire. “i need to be inside of you so bad..” oh, how bad you needed that too. “rafe, we can’t have sex for at least a full twenty-four hours.” you pouted.

“but we did it last time.” you giggled, shaking your head. “i know, but i’m so sensitive..” rafe sighed, leaning down so he could whisper against your lips. “would a little touching hurt, though?” you gasped when he slipped a digit inside your entrance, his long digit filling you just right. with the pad of his thumb, he began rubbing hard circles on your clit, your eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. “you’re so perfect, always dressing and getting dolled up the way i want you to.” he curled his finger, nudging that soft spot inside of you that made you see stars.

your back arched softly off of the bed, your fingers intertwining with his own. he kept his eyes on your trembling form, your mouth falling open as moans and whimpers fell from your lips. “i’m so close, ray..” the man above you lowered his head between your thighs, popping his digits into your mouth so you could taste yourself on his fingers. “so soft and smooth, i could eat this cunt for days.” you cried out loud when you felt his tongue prod at your opening, the tip of his nose finding your sensitive bud. “fuckkk!” you covered your mouth at the slip up, yelping when you felt rafe pinch your inner thigh.

“what have i told you about cussing?” he groaned, pulling away from your soaked pussy before diving back in again, your hands shooting up to cup your tits. rafe watched your face carefully, the rise and fall of your chest being a telltale sign that you were going to finish soon. you felt the familar heat begin to simmer in your tummy, your thighs threatening to snap shut as the coil in your stomach got tighter and tighter with every stroke of rafe’s tongue. “oh, my god!” your eyes rolled back when the band in your tummy finally snapped, your orgasm hitting you in waves of pure bliss.

your breath shook as you thrashed against rafe’s mouth, your thighs locking around his head as he pinned you down by your hips. your mouth opened but no sound, except for a pathetic shriek came out, your hands fighting rafe off in an attempt to pull away from him. that only made him grip you tighter, his tongue working relentlessly on your poor cunt. it wasn’t until you tapped out, your nails digging into rafe’s arm before he gave you a final kiss, his gentle hands massaging into the skin of your calves. you whimpered as rafe helped you come down from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your vision hazy.

rafe licked his lips clean, palming at the hard-on in his boxers. “how about just the tip?” all it took was one blissful glance at him through your lashes before he was yanking you towards the edge of his bed by your ankles.

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neoplatinum · 1 month ago

Text

cowgirls do it better | sophia laforteza

synopsis: it's been 2 years. 2 years since your wife has ripped your heart out as she tried mending it. but now you're in her home court, to finalize the divorce. there's a couple things you need to learn about sophia's life before you leave.

pairing: (ex-ish) wife!sophia x cowgirl!reader

tags: angst, slow-burn, fluff, smut, g!p reader (don't like, don't read), alcohol, mentions of rehab, tension, marriage troubles, cheating but also not really cheating, slight religious themes, cowboys/cowgirls, a-list-celebrity!sophia, manon, more…

wc: 20.7k

"i'll be here waitin' ever so patiently, for you to snap out of it"

(part 1)

2 years later, lax, los angeles

“spare change?”

it wasn’t how you imagined touching down in california. the casual mix of lavishness and poverty running like parallel lines through the city.

it’s not a pretty sight.

you offer the man a couple bucks, hearing his praises of God and thanking you for your generosity. you give him a wave, leaving for your chauffeured ride.

sophia had managed to send you a ride, with the cliché man dressed in a suit and sign with your name. the driver offers to take your duffel bags, dropping them into the trunk of his car. you hop into the car, a general feeling of restlessness running through your veins.

you swore that you would never step into this city. never let your path cross with hers again. she had her own life out here, and you had your own.

but of course, life has its own way. and you either try to fight against the current, or flow with it.

the ride was tedious at best, long traffic on the 5. sunny sunny california with people swarming. each with their own busy lives and even more complicated stories. you were just another story here, with a past that you were hoping to untangle here.

in an instant the buildings gave way to huge mountains. then you saw it, the large houses on the hills. grand spanish-style mansions, newly developed ultra modern ones with expansive windows. infinity pools on the cliffs.

you definitely weren’t in your ranch back in new mexico. life moved differently here. you shift a bit in your seat, watching the city fly by in front of you. it's gorgeous, but you’d rather be here under different circumstances.

the driver pulls into the ritz-carlton. definitely not the motel you booked for yourself. there’s a huge circle driveway with many nice cars parked out front for the valet. dark velvet carpets, almost welcoming you in like a star. you gave yourself a once over, the cowgirl attire wasn’t one that was common here. letting out a long sigh. you missed your idyllic life back at your ranch.

the driver drops off your bags onto a cart gently. he gives a slight nod of the head and soon a bellboy is immediately at your side. ready to push your stuff into the hotel. you’re getting money out of your wallet, when he pushes a hand out.

“ma’am, it’s been paid for. have a good rest of your day.” he leaves you and drives away.

fucking sophia. you curse her in your head.

“of course she would do this”, you grumble to yourself, walking after the bellboy towards the receptionist’s desk. you can hear small conversations droned out by the large front lobby. there’s staff all around, ready at an instant to cater to any patron’s need. the bellboy continues to wheel the cart forward. the sound of your boots muffled by the velvet carpet.

and you arrive in front of the receptionist’s desk. several staff members rapidly typing on their computers. at the sight of you, a woman looks up, calling you up to the desk.

“good afternoon, i have a reservation.” you speak, grabbing your ID out of your wallet.

“oh perfect! we have you set up in the presidential suite.” the receptionist smiles at you, giving you a knowing look. she goes back to rapidly clicking and typing into her machine.

“i’m sorry, do you know me?” you look a little lost.

“of course we do, miss laforteza informed us of your stay.” she offers a trained smile.

fucking sophia.

“right, of course…well, thank you.” you’re left a bit annoyed.

who was she to dictate where you were going?

“here’s your room key and please feel free to call room service at any point. your tab has already been covered.” she explains, sliding over a small folder with your hotel keycard.

you offer an awkward smile to the receptionist before walking off to the elevators. your cowboy heels clack loudly against the waxed floor.

you smooth out your hair for a second, already feeling annoyed that everything’s been paid for by sophia.

“may i see your card?” the bellboy askes you. you slide him your keycard, watching the way his eyes go wide at it.

he opens the large elevator and taps the keycard to head to the highest level of the hotel. and the elevator shoots up, rapidly climbing the tower where you can gaze out at the open city shrinking below you.

you admire the city for another couple of seconds when the elevator dings, and the doors open.

you trail after the bellboy, entering the long hallway adorned with a gold and white floor. large oil paintings lining the walls, with individual lamps illuminating each one.

it’s starting to dawn on you that maybe you really don’t know sophia. you don’t know how she can afford this lavishness, enough to book you the presidential suite.

he opens the large doors to the suite for you, opening to the largest room you’ve ever stepped into. floor to ceiling windows peering over the city. a gorgeous large round table with a bouquet centerpiece.

beautiful couches and sectionals just in the main area that you’ve walked into. you can spot at least three doors that must lead into their individual rooms.

“wow, i’ve never stepped in here.” the bellboy gives a whistle as he places your bags by the couches. he gives the room a once over before turning to you. “anything else i can help you with ma’am?”

“uh, no i’m all good.” you reply. and he’s starting to walk away, pushing the luggage cart. “wait! here, take this.”

you hand him a 20, to which he smiles and happily pockets. closing the door behind him.

and now you’re left in the presidential suite in a ritz-carlton.

you walk around, taking in the room, opening doors to more living rooms and bedrooms. a large california king with softer than silk duvets. the showers are humongous, enough to fit at least ten people inside. a beautiful vintage ceramic bathtub that is seated near the window. you eventually open to the balcony, a large infinity pool rushing with water. perfectly shaped hedges off to the side.

you can’t help but feel this is too much for you. this lavish suite is definitely worth more than your entire ranch and some.

you take off your boots by the door, getting situated in your suite. admiring the amount of closet space that’s available.

when you suddenly get a call.

“hello?” you prop the phone on your shoulder. trying your best to continue unpacking your duffel bags.

“hi! this is sarah from davidson & partners. i have you scheduled for a meeting at 1pm tomorrow, just calling to confirm.”

you roll your eyes, what a great way to get introduced to the state.

“yes, i’ll be there.”

“perfect, see you then!” and then she hangs up.

you tuck your phone away, this was going to be a long trip.

maybe you could take yourself sightseeing while you were here. trying to get the heavy feelings off your mind.

trying to get a certain woman out of your mind.

you walk out the suite, ready to get out of this over-the -top suite when you hear a voice call out.

“hey, neighbor!” a woman’s voice comes out light and inviting. you swivel your head to a gorgeous woman. dressed like she just stepped out of her nearest tailor shop. a gorgeous blazer and pencil skirt that fitted her perfectly.

you blink a bit before collecting yourself, walking up to her with a hand out.

“hi, nice to meet you.” you offer, she shakes your hand. warm and smooth fingers that slide into yours.

“i’m manon, have i seen you before?” she asks, presenting a charming smile, pearly white teeth and sharp eyes to pair.

“probably not, it’s my first time in california.” you reply, tucking your hand into your belt again.

“are you here to do touristy things? or would you like the inside scoop?” manon winks a bit, clearly amused by your out of state attire and look.

you don’t miss how she’s given you at least two top to bottom scans.

“i’m figuring it out…” you gesture aimlessly. then a thought runs through, “you recommend a place to enjoy some peace and quiet?”

“there’s an absolutely gorgeous beach not too far from here.” she grabs a quick paper from her hotel pad, jotting down the directions for you.

“thanks, manon.” you pocket the slip, “i’ll see you around.”

you give a quick wave, and she waves back too.

“buy me a drink sometime!” manon shouts before closing her hotel door.

you descend down the very fast elevator and are about to grab a ride when the valet walks up to you, keys in hand.

“hi! miss laforteza informed us you might need a car during your stay. here’s the car she requested.” he gives you a bright smile, dropping a pair of keys into your hands.

and you swivel your head to a cherry red vintage jeep wrangler. open chassis and red rims to match.

jesus, she even remembered your dream car.

“i, thank you.” you wave the guy off and he heads back to his stand. your eyes drift to the car again, a clean exterior and interior. you give a little tire check with your boot and examine the engine.

it’s well maintained, clean oil and no sign of leaks.

she did her research, color you impressed. she even remembered the small details. your favorite scent of car freshener dangling by the mirror. you hop in the car, engine rumbling smoothly, it’s obvious this car had a good owner.

you pull off the lot and head to a beach. the wind in your hair and you can hear the seagulls cawing by the ocean. it’s a gorgeous sight, rays of sun peeking into the car.

you gradually come to a parking spot, locking the car and tossing the keys in hand as you walk away. the beach is looking magnificent, there are some people playing beach volleyball and others still tanning.

meanwhile, you’re in your cowgirl getup, a little too dressed for the occasion. peeling off your boots and rolling your pants far enough to keep them from getting wet.

you can feel the sand in between your toes. the sand warmed by the sun. and then you step forward, walking towards the ocean and pushing sand behind you.

the ocean is beautiful, gorgeous small waves crashing against the shore. leaving behind darker wet sand. you let the wave crash against your feet, cold ocean water as a contrast against the warm sand.

it’s definitely gorgeous out here, you can’t remember the last time you were by the ocean, maybe when you were a kid?

letting nature continue to move between your toes. water running around your legs and retreating back to the ocean.

then a dog runs past you, darting across the waters in front of you. tongue hanging out his mouth as he chases after a small rubber ball.

he catches it in his mouth and darts back to his owner. a kid no older than ten and cheering his dog on. you smile warmly at the scene unfolding.

his dog barks loudly, awaiting another throw to which the young boy launches the ball forward.

“go, max!” you hear him shout, and the dog’s already leaped into the air, mouth open as he grabs snatches it out the air. the young boy rejoices when the dog turns around.

it reminds you of charlie, his beautiful eyes staring at you whenever you fill his bowl, or pet him right behind the ears.

maybe it’s slipped past you, maybe in this life you don’t get what you want.

instead you focus out, looking at the sun casting on the water, ripples that look like diamonds dancing on the surface. you can spot some yachts out far away, large cargo ships in the distance.

the water continues to splash against your legs, you feel at peace here. there’s nothing else but you and nature right now.

you let your shoulders drop, the tension from having to come to california has weighed on your mind. you try to let yourself relax for a while, watching the ocean as it comes and goes.

“no lara, listen to me, it’s not like that.” sophia rambles on the phone, trying to grab a smoothie from her fridge.

“yeah, and how would you describe this? hollywood star sophia laforteza seen walking into davidson & partners. literally the best known divorce firm in all of california.” lara is mocking her, reading off a fake tmz headline. “maybe there’s a secret life sophia’s hiding?”

sophia rolls her eyes at the comment, “it’s going to be fine lara. i’ll be discreet.” sophia uncaps the smoothie, drinking it as her friend continues to express her worries.

“discreet isn’t exactly your style sophie.” lara laughs out.

and sure she may be right, but sophia could be discreet, right?

“nuh uh, you’re probably trying to convince yourself you can be discreet. and the answer is no.

sophia’s jaw drops. “i can be discreet!”

“you’re about as discreet as a peacock. now listen, what you need to do is meet her somewhere else. somewhere out the public eye.” lara shuffles a bit over the phone, and sophia sets her smoothie down.

“like where?” sophia’s waiting for a magical answer.

“somewhere like uh…what about her hotel?” lara lets it roll off her tongue and immediately sophia feels like a train crash.

“that is the worst idea i’ve heard yet. and you’ve convinced me to go to an award show hungover.” sophia laughs a bit.

“you booked the room, the chauffeur, and the car. i think you’re allowed to go inside.”

“she’s going to shoot me in between my eyes before i open the door.” sophia picks up the smoothie again, grimacing at the taste.

“no she wouldn’t! she married you.” lara explains.

“yeah, that was before she found out i had a fiancé.” sophia rolls her eyes again.

“well, pseudo-fiancé, maybe you could profess your undying love and make more babies, because this one is so darn cute!” lara coos at the toddler. “yes you are! yes you are!”

“lara please, she hates my guts, practically told me so when she ran out on me.” sophia laments.

the feelings still burn like an open wound.

“so she hates you but you still kept her kid?” lara questions.

“i still love her, you know that.” sophia sighs out.

its quiet for a second.

“your mom is so dramatic isn’t she?” lara’s voice has gone up in pitch, playing with sophia’s kid. “yes she is! yes she is!”

sophia can hear her baby babbling and squealing in delight. “anyways, don’t meet her at the firm, paps are watching you like a hawk.”

“you don’t have to remind me.” sophia lets out with a sigh.

there used to be a time where she could just exist, without worry of the public. but those days are long gone.

suddenly there’s rustling sounds and a loud wail from the speakers.

“uh oh, your baby just crapped her pants. say bye bye now!” sophia can hear the lara’s poor imitation just above her baby’s wails. “auntie lara signing off, go win her back!”

and then the line hangs up, sophia doesn’t even have time to say goodbye.

“fuck.”

sophia throws her head in her hands.

“hello?” you’re half dressed, wearing shorts and a tank with your hair all over. still rubbing your eye as you try to sharpen enough.

“hi, good morning! it’s sarah from davidson’s, we spoke yesterday. mind if we come up?

“huh? yeah sure, come on up.” you speak into the hotel phone. half drowsy when you look over and see 7 am flashing on the alarm clock.

you stumble a bit as you approach the door, hearing quick knocks against the door.

“coming, just one second!”

you rush back to slide on some longer pants and head for the door, unlocking it to the sight of two very well dressed lawyers. both with polite smiles on their face.

“sorry to bother you so early, but it’s urgent.” the woman states and you let them in.

immediately they place their briefcases on the table. taking out pens, recorders, legal pads and laptops.

behind them, two security guards walk in. they immediately begin scanning the suite. large devices that are moving up and down the rooms. they approach each window and immediately pull the blinds, covering the outside light from coming in.

it’s like the secret service securing the west wing.

“hey, what are they doing here?” you ask, still yawning a bit.

“that’s our intel security team, we need to ensure this space isn’t tapped since we’re away from our firm. it’s standard protocol.” sarah is very direct, the smile disappears off her face as she sips on her coffee.

her counterpart is rapidly typing on his laptop, flipping through binders like a madman, but with precision behind each move.

“is this really necessary? it’s just me here.” you ask, a little perturbed at the intrusion.

“have you heard of brad and angelina, or bill and melinda? well those clients pay us, pardon my language, a shit ton of money to keep their divorces private.” sarah continues, not missing a beat as she types on her own laptop.

“it’s in our and your best interest that we follow procedures.”

“right…sorry for the offense ma’am.” you offer back.

“none taken. just doing our jobs.” she continues to drink her coffee. and suddenly the door is closed behind you, gone are the two mysterious men that stepped in.

“john, intel team left, place is clean, put that in the notes.” sarah speaks to the other lawyer, rapid typing ensuing.

“i thought we were meeting at the firm?” you ask, letting your arms hang on the back of a chair.

sarah looks away from her screen.

“mrs. laforteza requested to move up the meeting and in a discreet location, so we’re here to set up in time for her arrival.”

“here? as in this room?” you ask, the shock making you stand up taller.

“yes, this room. she’ll be here in…” sarah looks down at her watch, “15 minutes, well 14 now.”

“15 minutes?” you’re wide eyed and stunned, rushing off to the bathroom. trying to freshen up before seeing sophia again.

you can feel your heart hammering as you brush your teeth. memories flowing through you as you wash your face. you try to calm your clammy and shaky hands.

you can still hear the hushed whispers from the lawyers,

putting on a shirt over your head, you step out, still looking tired. but definitely more presentable than how you woke up.

you’re ready to drop your shoulders when there’s a sudden knock on the door.

shit.

you smooth your hair out once more and walk towards the door. giving a final breath and opening it.

the light from the windows illuminate sophia. she’s got a cap, sunglasses, dark clothes and no makeup in sight.

she doesn’t look like the woman that broke your heart.

you gesture to her to walk in, not even able to greet her. she gives a nod when she walks in. immediately you smell the familiar scent of her perfume. you inhale the scent enough that make your heart beat quicker.

it pulls you in, like it always has. truthfully, you don’t know if you’ll ever be tired of the scent.

eyes on the ground as she walks away, trying not to show how affected you are. even without a single touch she has your insides all shaken up.

you follow behind her, taking notice of her slow steps. like she’d rather just run out the door at a moment’s notice.

sophia pulls a seat on the other side, dropping her purse lightly. your eyes watch her intently, like you’re tracking her. after some searching, she takes out a folder filled with documents, all tabbed with notes. you watch her separate them into piles, hand meticulous and deft.

sarah and her counterpart watch her as well.

sophia finally settles in her seat. and gives a nod to the lawyers.

“welcome to the first divorce settlement conference.” sarah starts, “we will begin recording…now.”

you watch her press a button on the recorder. the room’s feeling a bit too stuffy now. it’s really here, the dreaded divorce that you tried to put away, just like the stubborn feelings you had.

she gives you a quick glance, just enough to commit your face to memory now. your cheeks are more sunken and those dark circles spell trouble.

in you, there’s a war against what you want and what you need. you listen to what you need. barely sparing sophia a glance, she doesn’t deserve it. in your head she didn’t deserve any of you, but in your heart…it still beat for her.

“now let’s get the structure of these meetings understood. we will be discussing property division, child support, and spousal support if applicable.” sarah continues.

“this is my colleague, who will be here for note-taking as well as shifting responsibilities as needed.”

you and sophia both give a firm nod.

“let’s start with property division. under page 2, section 5a.” sarah begins, flipping to a new section of her binder.

you both follow suit with your own copies. eyes reaching past all the legal jargon.

“the ranch in new mexico, measured at twenty acres. including livestock, house, and the barn.”

“that’s mine.” you speak up, and sophia snaps her eyes up to you, crossed arms that loosen at the sight of you.

she hasn’t heard your voice in all this time, a pained reminder of the last words you said, correction: shouted at her.

“mrs. laforteza?” sarah questions.

“that’s hers, and sophia, just sophia.” sophia replies.

“sophia, and thank you.” the lawyers are scribbling and typing in their laptops.

it’s strange how calm the room is. four people here to settle a divorce in the presidential suite of a ritz-carlton.

you grab a sip of water, watching sophia through your eye line.

she’s a bit dazed, eyes that seem so lost. and maybe if you weren’t so heartbroken, you would offer some comfort.

“great, next is the large 1930s spanish-style mansion in the hollywood hills, measured at seven thousand square feet. 6 bedrooms, 8 bathrooms.” sarah continues.

your eyes nearly bulge out.

“that’s hers.” you speak up, coughing a bit as you clear your throat.

“sophia?”

“yes, that is mine.” sophia shifts her legs a bit.

you sink into your seat, this was going to be a long meeting.

the hours continue, discussions of property grew to be extensive. you didn’t realize how much needed to be accounted for.

as well as revealing how much money sophia had accumulated. the star was definitely well-paid.

and you were slowly realizing how small you felt.

there was nothing comparable to the net worth of sophia laforteza. you once felt so confident and proud of your ranch, a safe haven for you both. but now you feel like maybe you weren’t a good enough provider.

maybe that’s why she left you.

you snap out of your spiral when the lawyers call for a break. giving time for a short walk and stretch.

you do notice that sophia’s been unfocused. blank stares as the lawyers discuss among themselves.

“would anyone like room service?” you ask into the air. and the two lawyers walk over to you.

“coffee and a bagel with cream cheese please.” you scribble it down.

“would you like anything?” you turn to the other lawyer.

“also coffee, but i’ll have a muffin and apple.” you jot down their orders, and writing another line as you call room service.

room services picks up immediately at the first ring, a woman helping you get all the orders down with efficiency.

sophia’s still in a daze, her hand slightly shaking in her lap.

you try not to notice it, especially given your now relationship with her.

when room service arrives, you thank the server. offering a tip as he exits the room again. the lawyers are eager to have something in their stomach.

you can imagine the hours are also taking a toll on them.

but your mind is focused on the other person in the room. you walk towards sophia with a bowl of fruit and yogurt and a glass of water in hand.

placing it down in front of her, causing her to focus again. a light gasp when she sees your face so close.

“this is for you, i bet you haven’t had anything today.” you say softly.

it’s not supposed to mean anything, just a simple gesture. but to sophia, she feels like she could crumble.

sophia nods firmly, a bit too firmly. its like the words won’t come out her throat. like she isn’t still madly in love with you.

“excuse me for a second.” sophia makes a quick dash for the bathroom. and you watch her retreating body disappear behind the door.

both lawyers stare at the door as well, giving you a quick look before returning to their conversation.

what you don’t know is that sophia’s sobbing. crying into her mouth so she doesn’t let out a sound.

how could she ever act like she isn’t completely and utterly in love with you? how you still stir up feelings in her body that make her want to reach out to you?

how she had to give herself a ten minute pep talk in her car before stepping out.

God, she was a wreck.

she gives herself a minute. just one. enough to pull herself together, broken sobs and pain shooting in her heart.

you stand by the door, caught between wanting to knock and wanting to give her space.

“fia?” you ask. “you okay?”

you faintly hear it, a sob that’s trying to break out of her throat.

“i’ll be-i’ll be out in a second!” she tries her best to sound normal. rapidly wiping tears off her face and giving herself a quick check in the mirror.

thank God for waterproof mascara.

she looks presentable, just enough to cover the traces of her tears. with a shaky breath she moves for the door, opening it to you on the other side.

your worried eyes that look too warm, in her mind a flash of angry eyes hit her. it reminds her why she’s here. why you ran out on her with resentment in your eyes.

but you stand here, unmoving and looking into her. and she nearly breaks again, digging her nail into her thigh, trying to keep the tears at bay. long enough to get through this.

you want to ask her what’s wrong but she gives you a controlled smile. one that lets you know she doesn’t want to speak about it. and she doesn’t, instead she walks back to her chair.

calmly sitting again and scooping yogurt into her mouth. you pull the chair next to her, resuming the silent war between both of your conflicting feelings.

the lawyers both return to their chairs. and offer each other a look when sarah speaks.

“thank you both for a productive meeting, we will meet again in two days.”

sarah and her counterpart gather all their belongings again. tucked away neatly into their briefcases. both offering a handshake before leaving.

you shake their hands and thank them for their time. watching them until they close the door behind them.

then you’re left with sophia.

you’re left with sophia.

you turn towards her, watching her pack her purse with all the documents she had laid out. she’s in a slight hurry, you can tell by the frazzled eyes and jittery hands.

she also realizes that she’s left with you.

you stand off to the side, silently watching her. she then shifts back, pushing the chair in and she then tries walking out.

you feel yourself panic, something unsettling erupting in your stomach.

“thanks for everything. you know, the hotel, the car, everything.” you speak quickly. “you didn’t have to.”

“you’re welcome. it’s really no problem.” sophia’s voice is shaky.

she waits a beat.

“it’s nice. to see you, i mean.”

and without another word she walks out the door, closing the door behind her.

you sink into yourself, feeling yourself cringe at the comment. you felt so stupid speaking up.

“so spill, how was it?” lara lounges on sophia’s couch, sparkly eyes as she’s trying to pry.

sophia gives a sigh before joining her on the couch.

“it was…amicable.” sophia didn’t want to talk about how she broke down crying in your bathroom. how you reminded her of her wedding day.

she’d rather shove all those feelings down.

instead sophia recounts, you looked familiar. too skinny in her mind. you definitely lost weight, she had hoped it wasn’t because of her.

“amicable? your wife hates your guts and she’s amicable!” lara exclaims.

“it’s not like a movie, you know? we may be actresses but that’s not her.” sophia continues to explain.

“what about you? i bet you were shaking like a chihuahua.” lara spoke.

“i was not! i was very professional.” sophia exclaims. “she was too.”

lara groans, “that’s not fun!”

“divorce settlements aren’t meant to be fun.” sophia explains.

“not as fun as you, right?” lara lifts anna into the air, the baby squealing loudly.

“hand her to me.” sophia opens her arms, and then the baby is propped in her lap. “i saw your mama today, she’s still very pretty.”

the baby babbles a bit, “mama.”

“yes, your mama. she’s lost some weight.” sophia says gently, rocking her toddler slowly. “i’ll have to make her some sinigang.”

anna claps her hands together in excitement.

“okay, this is really sweet, but you’re making me sad.” lara speaks up, and sure sophia’s thought about it. “and i don’t get sad, so go make up with her.”

“i can’t. and you know why.”

“fuck him! he doesn’t get to dictate your life just because his daddy’s got a big name.” lara scoffs, grabbing anna again.

sophia shakes her head. in an ideal world thomas never existed, or any kind of person like thomas.

in her ideal life she had you, anna, and grew together. maybe had a couple anna’s with you.

but she’s dug herself in this hole, and she needs to dig herself out.

“mrs. laforteza, hey, it’s good to hear from you.” you dig a stick a little further in the sand.

you stare into the sand, drawing small circles.

“hi dear, how are you?” mrs. laforteza’s warm voice comes through the phone.

it’s comforting. she’s like a second mom. you basically grew up in her house.

eating dinner with her, cleaning dishes, helping mr. laforteza with ranch work. it felt like you were always meant to be in this family.

“it went okay…” you drag out, thinking about your stay here.

the divorce settlement meeting was tense, and its driven you away from the hotel. the room feeling suffocating despite how big it was. you keep feeling this unsettling feeling that something’s wrong.

something’s wrong and you don’t know how to fix it.

so instead, you’ve been spending many hours outside, enjoying the summer sun. trying to find peace with life as it is, especially with the divorce coming.

“just okay? you don’t sound like someone who is okay.” she speaks.

you can hear charlie’s pants through the speakers.

“i’ll be alright, it’s really nice out here.” you look out to the ocean, squinting as you look at the rays of light. “i get why she came out here.”

“i’m sure.”

mrs. laforteza has always been sweet, trying to be as gentle as she can. knowing that her daughter has broken your heart. “she’s trying to fly us out soon.”

“yeah you both would really like it here.”

maybe a part of you is stuck, stuck waiting for some big reveal that sophia didn’t mean to crack your heart.

you tried moving on. all the worries, pain and anguish slowly dying within you. but some days the feelings overwhelm you, and it’s like you’re back at square one.

“listen dear, you’ll always be a daughter to us, married or not.” mrs. laforteza continues and you can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. “never forget that.”

you nod but then realize how she wouldn’t see that.

“of course ma’am, thank you for always being there.”

“oh honey, we’ll always be here.”

you hear charlie's yips as he chases after a ball that sophia’s dad is throwing.

“you think she meant it?” you ask into the open air.

“meant what, dear?”

“you think she meant to break my heart?” you feel like retracting the question as soon as it came out of your mouth.

who in their right mind asks their mother-in-law this?

“i don’t think she meant to. i think she wanted to save what she could, and your heart paid the price.” you listen to the faint noise of a rocking chair as she continues.

“sometimes, i wish she never liked me back.” you say it and truly you don’t mean it.

but it stings a little less to imagine a world where you weren’t as foolishly in love.

“honey, that girl loved you the second she laid eyes on you.” mrs. laforteza laughs out loud.

“when i saved her from those coyotes?” you let out a choked laugh at the memory.

“she came running back the ranch, screaming her head off about how you protected her and looked so cool.”

you wipe a tear from your eye.

“what else did she say?”

“she told me she was going to marry you someday. swore on the Bible she would.”

you still your movement.

“did she?” you ask, your heart is blossoming in that way that your brain hates. hates how she still had you wrapped around her finger.

“sure did.”

you let the silence hang in the air. listening to seagulls and soft waves crashing against the shore. trying to think about your next steps, what life would mean for you once you’re really divorced.

suddenly a voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“hey, neighbor!” a familiar light voice comes through, you tilt your head just enough to see her. large glasses and a beach shawl covering a bikini set. she looks ready to enjoy the beach. you give a light wave to her, as she sits next to you. a large grin on her face.

“hey, it’s good to see you.” you offer, and she nods a bit, watching you, observing the way the smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

“i would say the same, but you seem a bit…what’s the word? sulky?” manon shrugs, a bit of amusement in her face as she watches you lean back in shock.

“i am not sulky!” you exclaim, hand on your heart like you’re clutching a pearl necklace.

“then what is this?” she points at your six pack of beer, a couple already popped open and empty, grabbing one to open.

“this is…leisure…” you gesture to the space around you. she gives you that look, the kind of look your friend gives you when they know you’re full of shit.

“you’re not convincing anyone with those eyes.” she points out, taking a sip of beer with you, a slight grimace at the taste.

“what about my eyes?” you take another swig, looking back onto the shoreline, watching someone swim out.

“sad, like you have a thousand yard stare kind of sad.” she laughs to herself as she explains it.

and really if you had to guess, maybe you do given everythings that’s been happening to you.

“i’m just…dealing with a lot.” you explain, she takes another sip of her beer, despite the taste.

“yeah? tell me about me.” she urges you on, nudging your shoulder a bit. and really life has been so down, you’re more than compelled to spill your secrets out.

“the reason i'm here,” you gesture at the area around you. “is because my wife is divorcing me. i’m here to settle the divorce.”

and clearly that wasn’t the response manon was expecting. she’s taken aback, slowly digesting and trying to find the words to comfort you.

“wow, that’s a lot. yeah i don’t blame you for doing this.” she comments, trying her best to lend an ear. you give her a nod, thanking her just for the company.

it’s nice to have someone who knows nothing about her past, a clean slate.

“is it her fault?” manon asks you, genuine interest in her eyes.

“i think so.” you offer. manon doesn’t press further, eyes also watching the ocean, sitting quietly together and admiring the sunset.

“well, to a clean and quick divorce!” manon lifts her glass, you lift yours too. making a light clinking sound as you both sit in silence once more.

this was not how sophia wanted to start her morning.

“sophia! my lovely fiancé! to what do i owe the pleasure?” his slimy voice coming through the speakers.

sophia’s already burning. a hot heat of anger spreading through her nervous system.

a reaction to the sickly headlines funneling out of drama journals and anyone that cared remotely about sophia’s career.

“thomas. getting caught in ibiza with supermodels?” sophia bites out, her manager sitting beside her. tablet in hand as they scroll through the damning evidence.

“easy tiger…i was just celebrating my birthday. you know how those weekends go.” sophia can hear his cockiness through the phone. “which, by the way, you should’ve posted about, it’s pr 101.”

sophia wants to scream. she has not worked this hard in her career to be seen as anything less than a star in her own right.

this man is going to drag her reputation down with his.

“happy belated…but learn to cover your bases, asshole.”

“stop acting like my mother.” his voice turns into that disgusting condescending tone.

the one he puts on when he thinks he’s better than you.

“more importantly, how’s the divorce settlement going?”

it grates against sophia’s ears.

“it’s going well, don’t get into my business.” sophia scoffs.

“well, then don’t get into mine.” he retorts back.

sophia continues to try to not curse him out. her manager looking at her in worry, all sophia can do is try to think about happy thoughts.

happy thoughts about anna or you.

he coughs a bit.

“you better attend my dad’s birthday gala next weekend.”

she thinks about it, thinks about how she’d rather be at home with anna. but duty calls.

“fine. send over the details.”

he hangs up, sending an address and time. and sophia’s losing her mind all over again.

shouting at no one in particular about how much of a jackass thomas is. how his incessant need for the party lifestyle is going to ruin sophia’s life.

she needs a way out, and she needs it soon.

this wasn’t how sophia wanted to plan her evening. she wanted to be at home, a glass of wine in hand as she watches some silly tv show for the fiftieth time.

she’d play with anna and lounge outside the backyard. or have a lazy night swim.

but here she is in her long cocktail dress, a jacket adorned with pearls to match. it’s enough to stay afloat at the party, enough to be noticed, but also not stand out.

with all the old executives and their much-too-young trophy wives on display, sophia wants to leave.

thomas has already turned on his flashy smiles at his dad’s friends. each of them giving respectable nods, just enough to acknowledge him, but not enough to respect him.

he tried parading sophia around, introducing her as his fiancé, to which many seemed disinterested. some women even looked at her in pity, but she held her head high enough.

luckily she spotted lara not too far away.

“oh thank god you’re here, these people are so boring.” lara starts, giving everyone an evil eye before smiling at sophia.

sophia feels exactly the same.

“i hate going to these. no one cares anyways.” sophia continues, and honestly her life has been feeling like that lately.

she’s still a very high profile star, but with the status comes having to attend these more than necessary events. to mingle and be amongst those that run the industry, it gets boring to a point.

“how’s anna?” lara asks, softly tilting her champagne flute around.

that lights up sophia’s eyes.

“so cute, the babysitter just sent this photo.” and sophia shows the young toddler, sound asleep and tucked into her bed. with her mouth hanging slightly open.

“aw that munchkin, she’s so adorable.” lara coos at the photo.

“i know, yesterday she was trying to open all the kitchen cabinets.” sophia shows another photo of the young girl, wide eyed and caught by sophia’s camera.

sophia reminisces on the photos, scrolling to one that made her heart clench.

it was a picture of a frayed photo of you and sophia, much younger and much stupider.

silly marks on each other’s faces and stickers all over your shirt. sophia’s wearing your cowboy hat and you’re wearing the pair of boots she gifted you. both seated on mr. laforteza’s truck bed.

lara gives a quick look at sophia, watching the way she pauses herself. admiring memories of her youth that she left behind.

lara looks a little closer.

“anna has her eyes.” lara points her finger down, “the way she scrunches them with her smiles. it’s just like hers.”

“really? i never noticed that.” sophia zooms in on you, the way you smile so hard that your eyes disappear.

anna does the same whenever she’s finished with her food, or accidentally knocks over a cup of milk.

sophia feels like she could throw up at the fact.

she’s been trying so hard to keep the memories of you alive in anna’s life. showing her old photos that she stole from the ranch house. reminding her of her other parent.

enough to make anna realize that you are indeed her mama. and sometimes sophia thinks she can recognize you, or maybe she’s just repeating the words back.

when really you always existed in anna.

“i think you should tell her about anna.” it’s not accusatory or said without knowing the context between you two.

lara had been the first friend sophia made when coming to california. two girls with dreams in their heads and hopes in their hearts. to “make it” out here in hollywood. discussing their dreams and deepest fears of what makes them human. bonding over that shared desire for greater.

so really, lara understood her. understood how the fear of rejection from you would break sophia all over again.

she saw it firsthand when sophia returned to california. she wasn’t the same, barely was able to pull herself long enough to go outside.

and when sophia first got her morning sickness, lara was the one waiting in the bathroom with her. waiting for the pregnancy tests together.

“i want‐i want to. but i’m scared. i’m scared she’ll realize that she wants nothing to do with me or anna.”

sophia speaks truthfully, it broke everything in her when you told her to leave. she had never seen you so angry and upset, like a caged deer, trying so hard to escape.

she couldn't bear to hear how you don’t want her anymore. her heart would crack open again.

and what if you didn’t want to be involved in anna’s life?

“but what if she did? anna deserves a chance to know her.” lara continues, a sad warm smile on her face. “they both deserve the chance to be in each other’s life.”

it’s not like sophia hadn’t contemplated this before. each prenatal visit making her cry all over again. the ultrasounds, the first heartbeat, even the delivery.

she wished you would just burst through the doors, rushed comments about traffic running late and hold her hand as she went through this scary pregnancy. comforting words and soft affection as she went through the trimesters.

she wouldn’t trade anything for anna. she just wish you were here to experience it with her.

lara lets the topic go, it’s hard to see her closest friend so caught in between worlds. so much of her life she sacrificed and only to be left unsatisfied. it’s heartbreaking, and she hopes sophia will get her happiness back.

to much of the dismay of sophia, thomas’s father began speaking. welcoming all the guests through loudspeakers in his mansion. attracting the attention of all guests, but sophia’s heard this speech at every previous party before. how he owes all his accomplishments to a very special mentor of his. and then he gives that short anecdote about being a young and bright-eyed filmmaker. hoping to get his projects out into the world.

with a slight tug of her arm, lara pulls her away from the crowd, all entranced by the story.

“he’ll probably go on for another hour, come on, let’s go see if there’s some good liquor.” lara smirks. dragging sophia away from the main room, soon they’re walking across marbled flooring. large doors leading into the big pool out back, fountains pouring into the pool.

lara eventually pulls them into a large room. large dark oak bookshelves lining the back wall. each filled with hard covered books lining each shelve. a single lamp illuminating the room. large arabian carpets covering the floor. a heavy wooden desk sat close to the bookshelves. a fit study room for a world-renowned director.

“this camera probably costs more than a house.” lara points out the giant standing camera in the other corner of the room, and sophia would agree.

it drives her insane how much of thomas’ life was just handed to him, the opulence, the trust fund, all of it simply because he was born into the family. sometimes sophia wished thomas never existed. didn’t use his unlimited power for evil, to manipulate and control the weak.

“shit, sophia. come look at this.” sophia walks towards lara, finding her looking at an open drawer, a manila folder already opened on the table. “S.L.” in bold letters stamped on the front.

images spill out from the manila folder, each one from different events that sophia has attended. either red carpets or pictures from her acting. it’s haunting, it’s like she’s being watched.

and then it gets worse.

there’s photos of her child, anna running around in sophia’s backyard. photos of sophia lifting her kid in the air and spinning her around. it makes sophia sick to her stomach.

“lara, lara…” sophia turns to lara with tears in her eyes, shock making her ears pop and tinnitus ringing. her blood has run cold and so has her body, a slight shaking as she steps away from the table, away from the contents of her private life being captured.

“sophia, it’s okay, come on focus on me.” lara’s trying to stabilize a very lost sophia, her eyes keep darting everywhere. there’s thoughts flowing faster than water down an edge of a cliff.

“he knows. he knows anna.” sophia can feel her breath getting shorter, it’s harder to breath in deeper without feeling like she’ll hyperventilate. and lara’s trying her best to calm her down. but fuck if this isn’t a slap in the face.

she tried so hard to protect anna, going as far as to disappear to give birth. not even letting thomas near her or to see her. it was her way of protecting anna and protecting you.

“what else is in there? i bet that jackass has other dirt on me.” sophia asks through harder breaths. the sudden shock and stress is constricting her airways.

lara’s searching through the folder, eventually dumping it all out on the table. and out flys two contracts.

“it’s your acting contract.” lara’s quickly reading through it, familiar clauses from her very own. the clauses of work, management, pr image, conditions of pay. all of it laid out and then lara lands on a tab. highlighted in orange and circled in red pen. conditions of pr image and the ability for the company to manage sophia’s pr image if it were to slip into a scandal. and possible pr management rights reserved for the company.

“hold on…” lara flips through the rest of the contract, finding nothing else out of the ordinary. “something’s not right.”

sophia’s holding onto the edge of the hardwood desk, trying to count to four in her head during each breath, slowly bringing down her heart rate. she can barely hear lara through the ringing.

“did you know about this?” lara looks at sophia, another contract in hand.

“what?” sophia barely gets out, straightening herself when lara is breezing through the contract.

“it’s thomas. the trust. the inheritance. all of it.” lara continues to read through the pages, eyes moving left and right. “sophia. his father’s trust! the marriage, it’s all for inheritance.”

lara turns the page over to sophia, and even with her half breaths she can see the clauses: public-facing equal, married by 30 years of age, inheritance.

all of it is slowly piecing together. the urgency for the divorce, the sudden interest in sophia’s career. the manipulation and coercion of marriage was all to guarantee the inheritance of his father’s net worth. eventually he would secure his position to acquire his father’s businesses.

how could sophia be so stupid?

all because of a stupid clause that sophia signed when she was still a bright-eyed actress hoping to land her first big role in hollywood. only because she didn’t hire a lawyer to read the fine print of all the clauses in her contract.

it had cost her autonomy and the disrepair of her relationship with you. and if sophia had to guess, he was going to drag anna into it too. some sick leverage to get this marriage on the fast-track to secure his position.

all because she signed to a slimy acting agency run by thomas’ father. and all because thomas got his hands on her acting contract.

“i’m going to strangle him lara.” sophia gets out her phone, taking photos of the contract. every single photo or page in the manila folder all documented now in her phone.

“sophie, let’s be smart about this okay?” lara starts, already taking photos of her own as a backup. “we need a way out, we have to do this smart and quick.”

sophia nods.

“you have dirt on him right now, this contract, the coercion of marriage, his scandals. you know all about it.”

lara continues, thinking about how to use this to their advantage.

sophia continues to read over the inheritance, all of it is so obvious, thomas is after his dad’s assets. in an attempt to secure his position over his brother. he’s using sophia as a chess piece for his plan to take over. a coup.

“leak it.”

lara speaks up suddenly. her eyes are deep in thought, she keeps flipping through all the evidence. “leak it anonymously.”

“what?” sophia stops, confusion in her eyes as she looks at lara.

“make it an exposé, if his dad found out that thomas never went to rehab. and spent his money partying. dragging one of the biggest stars of hollywood into a coercive marriage. that would spell the end for thomas moore. he’d never be let out of his dad’s grasp again.”

lara begins texting people in her phone, a plan to drop pieces of evidence all over the next couple of days. a sudden exposé piece would send thomas into hiding.

“what if it backfires, lara? i can’t lose her or anna.” sophia panics, still worried about how this will all blow up in her face.

“we have a way out.” lara is confident, a large smile on her face, even if it was the last thing she could do, she would help sophia no matter what. “he’s tormented you for years sophie, the manipulation, the controlling. he took you away from her. he did this.”

lara points at the pictures, the acting contract.

“we’re going to make him suffer. you tell me to leak it and i’ll spread it like wildfire, okay sophie?”

sophia nods firmly, and breathes out for the first time. a breath of relief.

a breath of freedom.

you’re dressed more properly today, in a way it’s to not feel so awful all the time. the long walks along the beach have been helping keep your feelings in tact.

it’s been several divorce settlement meetings and you’ve been realizing just how complex sophia’s life is. between all the assets and bank accounts, and royalties from her acting career.

you’ve been feeling conflicted, a lost sense of what it means to be a partner to her. or at least what it meant before.

you weren’t there when she made these accomplishments and you can’t understand why you still want to be in her life.

it’s a feeling that’s haunted you since the moment she disappeared from your life. maybe there’s something you lacked for her to turn to someone else.

maybe you pushed her into the arms of that man.

sometimes you dream about him, about him burning your ranch down. or standing outside your ranch watching you as you work. his nasty grin on full display.

you usually wake up in cold sweat and reach out for sophia, trying to protect her. but she’s never there. and reality sinks in all over again.

there were days you could barely get out to do the daily chores, sluggish movement as you tried mending your broken heart a second time.

it’s no use though, you were used and replaced by someone who probably had more wealth than you could imagine.

so you sit a little clouded by your own thoughts, going through these meetings as robotically as possible.

limiting as much as you could, to remove the emotions out of these meetings. you need this divorce to be done, to never return or hear of sophia again.

sophia wasn’t coping much better, after learning about thomas’ motives to move forward with this divorce. it’s been hard for her to focus at the task at hand.

just yesterday she burned her hand trying to cook breakfast for her and anna. it reminded her how much of her life was in pain. the controlled aspect of her public image made her want to vomit.

and she’s sat beside you, both of you trying to answer the mediators questions. a hurdle that both of you are struggling with.

throughout the questioning, at multiple times, the lawyers have asked for a break to reconvene with more focus.

all it has done is caused more stilled awkwardness between you and sophia. silently sitting together, but unable to look at each other.

it feels like detention, that you both were “willingly” sat in.

and then suddenly, like a glass falling off a countertop, sarah begins again.

“let’s discuss custody and visitation rights…” sarah reads out to the pair.

her counterpart taking a sip of his cold coffee, a displeased frown on his face.

“on page six, the primary custodial rights of the minor child, would still be under miss laforteza’s legal guardianship until the child reaches 18 years old. in which they are legally an adult. currently, with non-disclosure terms applying to the identity of the other parent…” sarah continues reading down the page.

sophia eyes sharpen again.

“i’m sorry–what did you say?” you snap out of your haze.

“wait–sarah, wait…what?” sophia stands up straighter, hand immediately reaching out for the paper, rapidly flying to page six. eyes furious as she searches for the words.

“whose child?” you ask sarah, also grabbing onto the paper again.

what the hell?

“this wasn’t…this wasn’t in the draft i sent in.” sophia drops the paper back down. it’s there, in the fine print of the divorce papers.

“you have a child?” the way you ask is chilly, like you’ve audibly flinched back. electrified adrenaline shooting through you.

“give us a minute…” the lawyers both quickly review their materials. rapid typing from sarah’s counterpart and sarah looks confused as well, rereading the section that she just read aloud.

sophia’s voice is stuck in her throat, a sound coming out but it cracks in the end. she watches you scoot back, chair moving along with you.

“i was–i promise i was going to tell you about her, i was going to–” sophia reaches out, hand trying to grab yours.

but you flinch back, hand flying behind you, shock and the slow rise of anger coming back.

the exact anger you felt when you found out about thomas.

“fuck. you–you always do this sophia. you always fucking do this.” you step back, chair hitting the marbled floor.

and both lawyers stand up. immediately packing their stuff up.

“you never tell me what’s going on. seriously a child? a fucking child?”

sophia gets up out of her seat.

“is it even mine?” you bite out angrily, a suddenly thought making its sickly appearance. you couldn’t stand the idea that sophia would have anyone else’s kid.

“don't do that! of course she’s yours. i’m not some–it’s yours okay.” the pain is sharp in your heart. you hate that you’re always the last to hear about anything.

so a small part of you wants to hurt back. how you want her to feel an ounce of your pain.

“how are you so sure it’s mine?” the pain’s making you say things you would never say to sophia. “it could be your fiancé’s, you know?”

sophia’s hand flies out, slapping you across the face. angry tears at the accusation. the sound echoing against the walls.

your head stays stuck, realizing how much the words hurt her, but really they hurt you too.

“i would never. never! never raise that bastard’s child.” sophia says it with finality. the kind that shuts you up and lets you know not to press further. “so don’t you dare insinuate…”

the lawyers are quick to leave, sending sophia a look that expresses that they’ll talk later.

you’re glad because you’d rather have this conversation in private.

you finally sit back down, pulling the fallen chair up. and with that, sophia sits down too.

both of you facing each other for the first time in a long time. but she can’t hold your gaze, repeatedly looking away to hide the anguish that’s creeping up.

she’s trying to wipe away her tears, not wanting to show how your words tore through her. and you’ve sunken into the chair, the exhaustion released from your shoulders.

it smacks you again, the reality of your life.

“we have a daughter?” you ask, feeling the anger being drowned out by the fact that you have a kid now.

“we do.” sophia cries a bit, this wasn’t how she wanted to introduce anna to you. and she certainly didn’t plan it either.

sophia could only think of one person who would try and ruin her like this. the same man that tormented her life, forced her to get this divorce. pulled her abruptly from you, only to carry your child all alone.

both of you continue to sit, waiting for the other to speak up. and it’s killer, the silence that’s waiting.

so you speak up first.

“is she healthy? i know my dad had some issues when he was a kid. and my mom too–” you begin to ramble, spilling all your worries.

“she’s healthy, don’t worry.” and sophia cracks a small smile when you do too.

“that’s really good, yeah that’s good. um…can i see her?”

you ask, realizing all that you ever wanted with sophia was actualized, not just a dream that you kept to yourself. in the most sick way, you now have a child.

its not the full dream of having a big family with sophia, but you have a daughter.

more specifically, you have a daughter with sophia.

with tears in her eyes, sophia agrees to have you come over. to see the young toddler that had your eyes and sophia’s temperament.

you felt like a part of you had returned, some part of you wasn’t a complete fuckup of your own life.

and sophia spent hours, talking about anna. every detail she thought she could share, she did. how much she enjoyed eating grapes and would scream at the top of her lungs for fun. sophia even showed you photos of her.

she looked happy, a bright wide smile in each photo. when sophia talked about the pregnancy, you felt like you could cry. all the milestones that you missed. especially when you realized sophia went through it alone, none of thomas’ support or presence.

it hurt to hear how painful it all was for sophia, the hormone changes in her body. the way she felt about herself after the delivery. you wanted to be by her side, a shoulder to cry on as you both navigated having a child together.

so you both cried, you cried asking about her, and she cried listening to you describe how it feels to hear this all for the first time.

how you dreamed of having a family with her. all along it was there, and she wanted the exact same.

as the night rose, you realized how late it had become. making plans to see anna the next afternoon.

before she left, sophia handed you a photo of anna as a keepsake.

the drive was somber, all you could do was replay the long conversation you had with sophia. there were bits and pieces that stuck with you, how proudly she spoke about having your child. how anna had the mischievous side of you. and the clever side of sophia.

you listened to her talk and even ordered room service for you two.

it was…nice.

almost like you two hadn’t torn each other to shreds many years ago.

it felt familiar, in a distant kind of way.

you still want to hide how happy you were when sophia agreed to stay for dinner. she doesn’t deserve to know that. your heart was still in pieces, and one dinner wouldn’t change that fact.

but as you drifted off, you tried to wipe the smile off your face.

truth is, you fail. you fail miserably.

this wasn’t how you planned on meeting your firstborn. you hoped it would be when she was born, still crying and wailing at the first introduction to the world. in a swaddle and tiny hands that would try to thrash around.

but instead you stood outside a large metal gate. a large bag in hand as you tried calming your nerves.

you buzzed yourself in with the gate code, taking a slow look at the house that was supposedly sophia’s.

perfectly shaped hedges and large bed for flowers out front. large slabs of stone crossing the grass. you step forward towards the house. still a little weary of yourself.

maybe you have the wrong house.

you tuck your hat a little lower, feeling a bit self-conscious as you walk forward. cowboy boots clicking against the large slab stones. eventually you knock on the huge square door.

it opens into what could be described in architectural digest’s showroom mansions. large abstract paintings pinned on the walls. a flowing screen of water trickling. an ornate chandelier hanging high up.

there’s a quietness about this life. a different setting but the familiar quiet of living on a ranch.

you continue to walk through the front, walking into a long extended room. seeing a large red conversation pit in front of you, a rather unusual vase shadowed by flowers placed in the center.

and to your right is the kitchen, where sophia and another woman stand. both talking to each other animatedly.

you give a light cough, to which sophia instantly turns to you. eyes going wide when she spots you.

“hi, you’re early.” sophia lets out, she still had another half hour before you were supposed to arrive.

but instead you stand in her mansion looking as gorgeous as the first day her eyes found yours.

cowgirl ensemble and her favorite hat of yours to pair.

“didn’t want to be late.” you explain.

lara eventually turns to you, seeing you for the first time.

all she’s heard about you has been through sophia, and yeah lara means this in the most respectful way possible.

but she understands why sophia is so crazy about you.

you step closer to them, the familiar clicking of cowboy heels against the floors. you stop on the other side of the counter.

“i really didn’t want to make a bad first impression.” you say placing the bag onto the table. also taking your hat off, placing it on the table.

you look at lara. “and you are?”

“i’m lara, sophia’s bestie.” lara gives a big smile, and you return one too.

it strikes lara again, how much anna really looks like you. the same eyes that she’s seen when babysitting.

“nice to meet you lara. i’m-” you take off your hat, placing it onto the table, and extending your hand.

“don’t worry, i know and have heard a lot about you.” she gives a knowing smile as she shakes your hand.

sophia rolls her eyes at the smile.

you try looking around for a young toddler, eyes scanning around, but it lands on nothing.

sophia starts, moving away from the kitchen. “i’ll go get her. stay here.”

“no, let me, you two should catch up.” lara winks at sophia before disappearing into the house.

and you’re again, left with sophia.

“so i uh, went out and bought some toys.” you start, rummaging through your bag. “but i realized i don’t know what she’d like…so i kind of bought everything.”

you scratch your head a bit. realizing how dumb you looked with a toy from each aisle of the store.

sophia stares at the gesture fondly, looking at all the dolls and books you bought. enough to fill an entire shelf.

it’s like you’re santa.

“thank you, you really didn’t have to.” sophia rounds the counter, standing close enough for you to inhale her perfume.

you blink a bit before focusing again.

she sits down in a barstool, and you do the same.

“it’s nothing, i’m happy to.” you say smiling at sophia. you want to reach out and rub her cheek, but the sudden reminder of your reality keeps that urge down.

“how are ya, fia?” you let the nickname drop, you don’t even notice it but she does.

“i’m tired, but i’m happy you’re here.” and sophia means every word of it.

you try not to let it, but the words blossom in your heart, a familiar kind of bliss from just being around her.

she’s happy to have you in her orbit even in the circumstances.

you feel the same way, you’re more convinced that there’s more sophia’s not telling you. what other hidden mysterious could she be hiding from you?

“how about you? enjoying california?” sophia asks.

you think about your time here, it’s definitely different from new mexico. there’s more movement around, the beach is really nice. you’ve been swimming most days or taking long walks on the beach.

“it’s really nice out here, i can see why you came.” you didn’t want to make it feel like she chose california over you.

“yeah, it’s a beautiful state.” sophia thinks about how different life is for you back home.

suddenly a voice hits your ears.

“mommy!” a young girl squirms in lara’s arms. trying her best to reach sophia. and with quick steps, sophia eventually grabs a hold of anna.

you watch the interaction in slow motion, your shoulders tensing when you realize this is real.

you spent the whole car ride over shaking your foot or biting your nail. to say you were excited and nervous is an understatement.

as sophia’s cuddling her a bit, the toddler’s eyes spot you. and she watches you, a sudden interest in your face.

you’re looking at your own daughter. and God, she reminds you of sophia when you were both younger. she’s got sophia’s long hair, but she has your eyes.

she has your eyes.

it brings tears to your eyes, and you nearly have to step away so you can cry. but instead anna puts her arms out begging you to hold her.

and you do, with shaky arms. she sits comfortably on your side, looking up at you. small strong hands that pull at your shirt.

“hi there.” you say softly. and lara’s standing there taking photos of you three. sophia’s hands are shaking too. scared to let this moment disappear from her grasp.

anna continues exploring you, hand reaching up to pull at your face. letting your skin snap back when she lets go.

“mama!”

anna slaps her hands against your chest, happily clapping to herself and sophia gasps. her smart girl recognized you, from all the photos and stories she’s told her.

“mama? yeah, i’m your mama.” you cry out, tears falling down your face. you wipe them away with your sleeve. anna seeing you cry makes her cry too.

“no no, please don’t cry, these are happy tears.” you try to wipe away your daughter’s tears.

lips still trembling as you held her tighter. she stops crying when you wipe her tears away too. leaning into you with a soft smile on her face.

“oh my God. this is really cute, but i have to go. it was lovely meeting you, let’s all have brunch sometime soon!” lara whispers to you, grabbing her purse and giving a hug to sophia before leaving.

“lovely to meet you too, lara.” you wave to her, and anna waves too. her hand shaking as she waves away.

“sophia i–she’s real.” you gasp, feeling the toddler mess with the pockets of your shirt.

“she is. want to play with her while i make her a snack?” sophia smiles fondly at you holding onto anna’s hand.

“yeah of course.”

so you set the toddler down. grabbing each toy that you bought and shaking it in front of her. she seems mildly intrigued by each until you hold out a toy horse in front of her.

she grabs it with interest, immediately trying to bite it, but you pull it away quick enough before she bites down.

instead you show her how to walk the horse on the counter. you start putting other horses down for her. she continues to knock them into each other, much to your dismay.

“she loves horses. i wonder where she got that from?” sophia says teasingly, continuing to place grapes in a small cup.

“hm, must be you?” you joke back.

you laugh a bit when sophia doesn’t respond. continuing to knock into horses with anna.

“one time i took her to a carousel and she begged to get on the horse.” sophia continues, and you can imagine the scene. thinking fondly of the two.

“that’s my girl.” you say confidently, “oh i have a gift.” you grab your bag.

taking out a kid’s sized cowboy hat and fitting it onto anna’s head. it’s still too big for her and she gets completely covered by it.

“she’ll grow into it.” you say to sophia, taking it off the kid. the kid laughs a bit at the hat, putting it back on as she continues to play with the horses.

suddenly a thought hits you, and before you can control it, the words come tumbling out. you don’t mean to ask it, at least not in front of anna.

“would you have told me about her?”

sophia stills, stopping her movements as she look at you, with all the sincerity in her eyes, she answers you.

“yes, i just didn’t want it to come out like that.” she refers to the divorce settlement meetings. “you deserved to know her.”

you nod along, a solemn expression painting the pain of not knowing your own daughter. you wanted to be there for all of it, the good and the bad.

even for sophia.

maybe you were still hopelessly in love with her. but now that there’s a child involved, things have shifted.

“i’m sorry for the things i said to you. what i implied, i didn’t mean it.” you say to her. gently adjusting the hat on anna’s head. “i was…angry, but that doesn’t make it okay.”

she takes a minute to absorb your apology, quietly moving through the kitchen.

“thank you, and i’m sorry too for everything.” sophia puts a juice box on the plate.

you also take a second to acknowledge her apology, it’s been hard grappling how sophia truly feels about you. whether she means everything she’s done to you.

for now you’ll accept whatever this is. but in you there’s still a very cautious and injured animal. cowering in fear that if you let her in again, she’ll ruin you.

you grab anna, walking across the kitchen. putting her into a high chair. she pays it no mind as she continues playing with the plastic horse in her hand.

anna continues to mess with the horse, setting it down when she sees her plate of food. slowly eating it as you and sophia both watched.

“thanks for inviting me over.” you look at her, a genuine smile that refuses to leave.

“of course.” sophia walks to the fridge, opening the door and scanning for beverages. “want something to drink?”

you walk right up behind her, enough to hover but not enough to touch her. she can feel your body heat radiating off.

“water would be good.” you reach into the fridge, grabbing a bottle and stepping back. sophia’s closes her eyes for a couple seconds. feeling a bit flushed at the sudden closeness.

almost wishes you never moved away. and she turns to look at you, with something behind those eyes, you can’t quite place.

you want to ask her what’s going on. but then she walks away, back to the stove. you close the fridge, trying to shake off that moment.

you take a sip of water and return back to anna’s side. watching her happily eat some animal crackers. a smile erupting when you make silly faces at her.

anna pulls her arms up, begging you to hold her again. you lift her up and hold her on your hip. moving into the kitchen again, standing right next to sophia.

“mm, the famous laforteza sinigang?” you dip your head down, smelling the delicious soup. a familiar scent wafting into your nose.

smells like home.

“yeah, family recipe.” sophia continues stirring the pot every so often.

“smells good,” you say cheekily, and sophia grabs a spoon, cooling it down for you. and then spoons some to you. “and it tastes even better.”

you grab another spoonful and shovel it into your mouth.

“i’m going to miss your cooking.”

“yeah…want to stay for dinner?” sophia asks.

and its a step out. a step out of her comfort zone, an extending hand hoping that you take it.

she really hopes you take her up on the offer.

“that would be lovely.” you reply back, a small smile on your face when sophia’s eyes light up.

you continue to play with anna throughout the afternoon. she liked crashing horses into each other and running around the sofa. all of which would tire you out.

but she kept giggling and ran, so you had to run after her. eventually she settled for a nap, you tucked her in, a small blanket covering her as she slept on the couch.

“she’s out.” you speak up, getting up from the couch. walking towards sophia, and God. maybe the world is blessing her, because now you’re standing inside her home.

“dinner is ready?” you ask.

she focuses again, nodding as you walk towards her cabinets. grabbing two bowls and utensils, passing them to sophia.

she fills the bowls with some rice, passing them back to you. you set them on the dinner table, sophia grabs her small pot of sinigang. placing it to the next of you, you grab her plate, filling it with the delicious soup, doing the same for you.

“shall we say grace?” sophia began, sliding her hand over and you took it.

a spark of electricity at the slight touch, you instantly flinch back a bit. before sliding your hand into hers again.

“dear heavenly father, we thank you for the food that we are about to eat. we ask that you would look protect us and guide us along your path. in jesus’ name, amen.”

“amen.” you say quietly, removing your hand. albeit a bit too quickly for sophia’s liking.

as you begin eating sophia’s sinigang, you think about what it would mean to be in anna’s life. how you could be an active parent despite living in a different state.

it doesn’t seem feasible, having to travel back and forth to visit anna. and with a lack of reason to stay in new mexico, you suddenly erupt with an idea.

“i’m going to move here.” you say calmly, and sophia stops her spoon. lifting her head to look at you.

“you’re moving here? like hollywood?” she asks, a little shocked at the sudden interest.

as far as sophia could remember, new mexico was your home and you were content to live the rest of your life on that ranch.

“not hollywood per se, but definitely close by.” you gesture around, feeling your resolve continue to harden.

“wow, this is a big move. what uh made you decide that?” sophia squirms in her seat a bit, watching you with purpose. a very secret part of her hopes you say it’s because of her and anna.

“i want to be in anna’s life, actively. traveling back and forth would be too difficult.” you look towards your daughter. who is still happily turning and twisting her horse. a delighted smile on her face.

sophia takes her time to reply, taking another sip of soup before leaning back in her chair. hands shuffling as she thinks of a thoughtful response.

“what about charlie? the horses? the chickens?” sophia asks.

she’s elated to hear that you want to be in anna’s life. it’s more than what she asked for, and to be a consistent part of anna’s life would be terrific.

“i’m planning on buying a ranch out here. i’ll bring charlie, the horses, everything.” you explain.

it was an idea that popped into your head earlier, a realization that you wanted your life near anna…and sophia. to still have your lifestyle, but be able to visit often and go out to the beach.

“you sure?” sophia continues to eat her food, and you return back to your bowl. feeling a sense of purpose surging through you, instead of aimless days without a direction, you could be a present parent.

“yeah, i’ve decided. and you know me, once i’ve decided it’s set in stone.” you give her a big grin, looking at her briefly. her eyes searching for something deeper, when a grin also appears on her face.

“well then, if your heart is set on it, then no one can stop you.” she explains.

“i’m going to be a cowgirl out here in california, who would have thought?” you grin continues to expand.

sophia rolls her eyes at that, but she can’t deny that deep down she’d love for you to be closer to her.

“don’t go too crazy now.” sophia comments, filling your empty plate with more soup, to which you happily eat more of. nearly emptying the bowl in less than thirty seconds.

to which she offers another filling.

“do they have rodeos out here? we should take anna when she gets older.” you comment.

sophia doesn’t mistake the use of ‘we’ when you asked.

“yes, there’s some big ones out here, you’d be surprised.” she says, standing up to pick anna out of her high chair.

“hi cutie, want to sit with us?” sophia walks back over, anna perched on her lap when she sits back down. immediately her baby hands are trying to grab sophia’s bowl of food. hunger in her eyes.

“well, she’s definitely yours.” sophia nods at her kid, still trying to reach her small arms for the bowl, frustrated when sophia sits back. “your mom told me you used to do that as a baby. even threw a couple tantrums.”

sophia giggles to herself, seeing you fluster, the embarrassment rising your neck.

“whatever…” you drag out. a definitely big smile still plastered on your face as you watched your daughter try to struggle out of sophia’s grasp.

you think you could get used to this life, a life with anna and sophia.

‐‐

you continue to toss the keys in your hand as you hum along to a song you heard on the radio. the day has been long gone, and now the night is coming to a close too. after spending nearly all afternoon and dinner with sophia and anna, you’ve come to a couple conclusions.

you were definitely still in love with sophia, even if the world were to flip upside down tomorrow, those feelings would never dim.

you didn’t want a divorce, not now, not yesterday, not tomorrow.

you were going to be the best parent you could be.

it wasn’t something that you were happy to announce, considering sophia still had her fiancé. the same one that she conveniently doesn’t talk about. and honestly you aren’t too sure why.

you both have skirted the conversation about him in her life. as far as you knew, that was a person she willingly agreed to marry, she had no reason to state otherwise. but she still kept your kid?

that made everything more confusing. the lack of thomas in her life. every meeting that’s been had, every inch of sophia’s life wouldn’t lead one to believe that she’s happily engaged.

there are no photos of him in her home, even when you went poking in her bathroom, there was no sign of someone else that lived here. it’s unsettling…

you don’t know how to bring it up to her.

like hey, so what about your fiancé that you happen to be cheating on me with, but also you’re technically cheating on him with me?

there was something still lost in the grand picture, he didn’t fit into sophia or anna’s life. something’s not right, and you need to get to the bottom of it, before you lose your wife for good.

these thoughts continue to consume you, so much so you barely recognize the voice that’s calling out to you from the hotel lounge.

“hey neighbor!” and in front of you is manon, wide smile and a long dress to match. you quickly stop yourself before crashing into her. taking a step back before giving her a smile too.

“hey, how have you been?” you ask, subtly noticing the get-up. clearly she’s had a night out, a fancy one.

“i’m okay, came back from a failed date.” she points at herself, a small clutch in hand and sparkly earrings that dangle under her long curly hair.

“ouch, his fault?” you ask. both of you walk towards the bar, pulling her chair out and pushing her in. as you sit next to her.

“her fault, actually.” manon says confidently. you flag a bartender down to order two martinis. “she kept talking about herself all night, didn’t ask me a single question.”

you wince a bit, feeling sympathetic towards manon’s shitty night. the bartender slides over the drinks and you immediately take a sip.

“sorry for assuming, and that’s got to suck. you even dressed up so nicely!” you explain, taking a sip and listening to manon continue to complain.

“no harm no foul, most people don’t know i date women.” she explains, placing her clutch onto the bar counter. “and look! i even pulled my favorite dress out.”

she points at herself, and you can’t deny, it does look very good on her. form fitting and silver accents along the neckline. anyone would struggle to keep their eyes off her on a date.

“sorry to hear that, she wasn’t worth your time.” you continue to sip on your drink as she replays the story to you. telling you how it was doomed from the start, the lack of chivalry, the messy eating, the self-centered monologue, all of which made manon wish she was curled up in her hotel room, watching shitty rom-coms instead.

by then you two have had more than a couple drinks, and you can tell it’s definitely affecting manon more than you. her speech is a little slurred. her eyes are a bit unfocused, and her hands keep reaching out to touch your knee.

you’re not uncomfortable per se, but it definitely strikes you how forward manon is. batting her lashes and listening to you intently talk. almost as if she’s lost in a vision of you.

“alright, clearly you’ve had your fill. let’s get you to your room.” you grab a dizzy manon out of her chair, tucking her clutch under your arm. instantly she pulls all her weight onto you, you brace yourself, almost tipping over.

“sorry, had a bit too much.” manon giggles to herself, and you try your best to counter the weight. having her lean into your arms as you both walk away from the bar. slow steps as she continues to giggle to herself.

you don’t notice it, not with how hard you’re trying to keep manon upright. the weight of her body trying to make you tip over.

but sophia’s here. she’s here and she’s shaking. in her hand is the cowboy hat you left in her house.

she had found it when cleaning up the kitchen, hoping to see you again. so she drove over, a smile all over her face as she sang all the songs on the radio.

but now, no. no she’s furious. there’s an unnamed woman hanging off your arm. clearly interested with the way she’s hanging onto you like she was oh so weak.

fucking bullshit.

sophia’s pulled that move on you long before this woman even breathed in your direction. she’s gripping onto your cowboy hat with jealousy brimming in her heart.

and she might just snap. she’s going to snap this woman in half if she doesn’t get her hands off her wife.

you are none the wiser, walking manon into the elevator and selecting the top floor. stepping back and begging the elevator to fly up, the doors are closing when suddenly in steps another woman.

sophia.

her eyes are filled with rage as she stares at manon next to you.

“sophia! what are you doing here?”

you’re more than shocked to see her, she’s never come to visit you unless it was to discuss the divorce. and here she was standing in an elevator with you and a drunk manon going up to the top floor.

she stops her glaring long enough to focus on you. hat in hand that she slides back onto your head. “you left this. at my place.”

she goes back to glaring at the other woman. and manon’s seeming to get the hint, even in her drunk state. pulling away from your arm a bit. and sophia can see it in her eyes, the recognition of her face. she knows exactly who sophia laforteza is.

“and who might you be?” sophia asks, it’s neither friendly not mean. but it’s definitely not kind.

“i’m manon, living next door.” she gestures to you, eyes more alert as sophia tries to subtly put distance between you two. stepping in far enough that you back into your corner.

“i see.” sophia eyes her more, satisfied that the woman’s stepped away from you. and even more satisfied that her hand is off of you.

the elevator can’t go fast enough with the tense energy in the air. sophia takes a moment to situate herself, happy to have kept her away.

the elevator dings and all three of you walk out. and manon’s really drunk, because she nearly trips over herself, almost falling on the floor.

you reach out quickly, scooping her up before she fell. and with a few adjustments she’s back onto her feet.

“are you okay?” you ask, manon nods a bit trying her best to stabilize herself.

and sophia, well she’s watching like a hawk. ready to swoop in the second manon gets too close.

you walk manon to her room quickly, opening the door and setting her down on a chair. and sophia’s not exactly happy at the sight. it should be her being taken home by you, you keeping her upright if she was too wobbly. this kind of chivalry was supposed to be reserved for her.

she shakes her head unhappily.

and with a quick nod from manon that she was all good, you bid her goodnight, walking away with sophia in tow.

sophia gives manon a quick look over her shoulder before the door closed. and walks right after you, all the way into your hotel room. she thinks long and hard, about the next words she’s going to say to you, because really…these emotions have been erupting in her all day.

she walks in after you, closing the door behind her.

but she settles on these next words carefully, eyes wild and hair even wilder.

“are you fucking her?” sophia enunciates every syllable, she always did this whenever she got serious. wanted to make it obvious what she’s asking, no chance for you to stand there looking confused.

she hates when you look at her like you’re confused.

your eyes nearly jump out of your skull, you immediately let out a sharp gasp.

“no, of course not!” you reply, feeling a little upset at the question.

“not that it’s any of your business.”

it hits both of you like a train when you say it. in truth, you want it to hurt, you want sophia to tell you everything was one big mistake. want her to snap out of it, want her to pull you in by the belt of your pants. to fuck you like you meant something.

but you want it to sting, she doesn’t have the right. doesn’t have the ability to dictate what you are to her, not with him still in the picture. you’re digging for more, for her to explain his unusual place in her life.

“say that again.”

she dares you, eyes hard like steel.

you step close enough to breathe it in her face, she doesn’t step back, body tight like a rubberband. and you think if you breathe in the wrong, maybe right, direction, she’ll blow up.

“i said…it’s none of your business.” you hold your own, standing firmly. she stares at you, listening to you try to defend yourself . “it’s none of your business. who i fuck. who i kiss. who i touch.”

you continue to corner her a bit, and she’s getting angrier by the second, you know in a second she’d be all over you like a predator, she has that gaze.

“oh! you must be out of your depth here.” she pushes you with a light laugh at the end of sentence. grabbing you by your shirt, hand clenched to the point her knuckles turn white. you feel like you’ll snap, either your shirt or you first, you don’t know. “it is my Goddamn business.”

she snarls the words out, an anger thats fueled by jealousy and the tense sexual tension that always lingers when you two are too close.

“funny how you think i’d let you touch someone else, with what’s supposed to be mine.”

she pushes you, enough to make you stumble a bit, your hat falling onto the ground. then grabbing onto you again, pulling you straight into the bedroom. each step like a sentence to the dungeon, but you’re more than happy to be locked here. with all her attention and anger directed at you.

“you want to play dumb? fine. let me remind me who you belong to.”

you fall backwards onto the mattress, ready to push her under you, an undercurrent of wanting to control the pace nearly making you go tunnel vision. but sophia’s got her mind set. eyes ablaze as she pulls your belt out of your jeans. holding your body down with her hips. she stares at you angrily, a need to remind you where you are.

under her.

she ties your hands in a quick fashion, pulling the belt until there’s tension, keeping your hands above your head.

you try pulling against the bedpost, but it doesn’t give.

she pushes your shirt up, until she can scratch your stomach with her nails, then she leans down, hair in beautiful waves falling around you, until all you can breathe and see is her.

she pushes your pants down a bit, not enough to take it off, but enough to let the pressure of your pants alleviate. and then she stops midway. your pants are lifted off your hips but not enough to move anywhere else.

“either you tell me who this belongs to.” she snaps the pants back onto your skin. hand immediately back on you, pressed against you, not enough to move, but with enough to make you want to buck your hips. “or i leave you here. your choice.”

she says it in that tone, the one that lets you know there’s no other choice, not if you still want to be in her good graces.

“yours fia, i swear.” you groan a bit, trying to find some pressure to alleviate the ever present problem in your pants. “all of me belongs to you.”

she smiles big, in that smile that lets you know she’s won, and she’s going to be rewarded heavily for it.

“good answer baby.” she taps your cheek a bit, liking the way you keep trying to touch her, like you deserved to after pulling that with her.

“i would say you kept up a good fight,” she takes a long lick over your stomach, feeling it tense under her touch, “but we know you’ll end up like putty in my hands.”

she’s reeling in her win, a cocky grin that won’t leave her face. you nearly whimper at the contact, she’s barely touched you and you’re taut, trying to arch into her, for some contact at the very least.

“please fia, let me touch you.” you whine again, trying your best to get out of your restraints. its driving you mad how you can’t touch her. can’t feel her the way you want.

“not tonight. not until i'm satisfied.” she leans back, unbuckling your pants and staring down at you, like she’s caught her prey in a trap.

you continue to try and move your hips, like a caught animal trying so desperately to be released, but it’s no use. not when she’s got you finally where she wants you.

“fuck fia, please, need to touch you.” you try to beg, but it only spurs her on, oh how the mighty have fallen. she shakes her head, giving you a kiss on the cheek before climbing off of you, pulling herself off the bed.

she takes her time, tonight she’s in charge, and she’ll take everything she can get. especially with the way you’re trying so hard to watch her, head trying to look at her despite the restraints holding you in place. it drives her insane, knowing she still has that much of an effect on you, tracking all of her movements without trying to miss a single second.

she can feel herself getting hot by how hard you’re staring at her. a slight sheen on sweat on the back of her neck. you wish you could just rip these restraints off you, to show her who she belonged too. but a deep part of you is just as enticed by this side of her.

desire pooling in your lower stomach and you nearly jump when she takes off your shoes, sliding them off quickly. you don’t even care what she does, as long as she’s touching you, you’re more than okay with that.

her hands slide up along your pants, and really you feel like a horny teenager being touched for the first time. the way she intentionally drags it out, slow enough to keep you engaged but not enough to give you relief.

“fia, please.” you beg again, and again. she swears she’s never heard you so desperate, at the mercy of her control. she could get used to this. and soon enough, she’s pulling your pants and boxers off, enough to alleviate the pressure that’s been confining your lower half.

“please what?” she says with anticipation in her eyes, she’s never seen you so out of control. so much want to let her do whatever she wants. it makes her pride swell.

“please, touch me.” you moan out, and you’re so tightly wound that it almost feels like you’re in pain. pain of not having her all over you. desperate and whining for attention.

she likes the sound of that. pulling herself forward, settling for sitting on top you. light touches dancing on your hip. not close enough to where you truly want her, but a relief that she is even touching you at all. the hard exterior that you’ve put up over the years is crumbling, and of course is being unraveled by her.

she continues her light touches until she gets lower, already sensitive to the touch, trying your best to get some movement against her hand. but she holds still, liking the way you’re completely at her will.

then she spits in her hand, enough to get your cock wet, spreading it all over. you moan at the contact, letting yourself relax again, getting that much needed relief after all.

sophia’s got other plans in mind.

“so, you let anyone touch you?” she says, continuing to stroke you up and down, letting the build up confuse your brain, “do you, slut?”

you’ve never heard sophia talk like this before, the way she stares down at you like you’re nothing and everything at the same time. the way she stops her hand when you don’t respond.

“answer me.” it’s not particularly loud, but it makes you want to shrink.

“n-no, i don’t.” you whimper a bit, trying to buck your hips again, to which she completely lets go of you. a growing dissatisfaction in her eyes.

“you don’t, slut? so what was that back there?” she growls out.

“i-i i really-she was drunk. i was helping her back. please sophia, please touch me.” you beg, trying to move your legs and by now sophia’s getting irritated.

“don’t let that happen again.” sophia goes back to stroking you again, and you nearly flinch at the contact, it was so sudden and gentle that you wanted to chase after it.

“i won’t, i promise! please faster.” you continue to beg, head thrown back in pleasure as she continues to give you a growing pleasure in your stomach. she gives you a quick kiss on the lips, a reward for the correct answer.

“my little slut will get what she wants.” sophia says it out loud, but mostly it’s for herself. a direct and open claim of you. you’ve never been so worked up before, all this teasing and lack of control is making every sense more heightened.

“yes, please, fuck.” you moan out everytime she drags her hand up the top, a delicious pressure that has you leaking out pre-cum. you’re breathing heavy, head to one side as you try to fight the growing orgasm that’s closing in on you. the feeling of sophia all over you again has you unraveling earlier than you were expecting. “i’m your slut.”

you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore, just begging for a release, one that sophia will happily grant you if you answer this next question correctly. she speeds up her movements, you continue to let out begging words at her mercy.

“so, who’s is this?” she makes it a point to squeeze you suddenly, drawing a gasp and some more pre-cum flowing from the head. the increased pace is making you want to pass out, and all you can feel is the mounting orgasm that will explode soon.

“fuck, yours, i swear to God, it’s yours, i’m yours.” you ramble a bit, trying so very desperately to chase after your own release, it’s a beautiful sight to sophia. just a little more and she has you begging for a single touch.

she doesn’t mistake how you try to bite at something, anything to contain the inevitable orgasm. you bite into the closest thing you have which is a small pillow to your right. and your body tenses like it usually does, a tightness in your stomach and you try and push into her hand.

“fuck, sophia, please, don’t stop.” you continue to push into her hand, and she can feel herself drooling at the sight, wiping it away with the back of her other hand. and like a drawn bow, the arrow is released.

“fuck oh God, fia. fuck, i’m cumming.”

you shake a bit as you cum, legs shaking and torso taut, arching off the bed, the cum spilling out in streams.

all landing on your abdomen.

but sophia doesn’t stop, she continues to stroke you through the orgasm, your body convulsing at the motion, it drives you insane. you can feel your body feeling overloaded with stimulation.

“fuck-sophia, please,” you try to gain some control, the continuous stroking making you cum more than you’ve ever cum before. “give-give me a second.”

she gives you a few more strokes before letting go, you’re breathing hard, sweat glistening under the lights, and God, sophia swears she’ll never let you walk away from her again. as she watches you try to get your focus back. instead, she pulls herself on top of you, resting herself right on top of your spent cock.

she pulls her dress up, just above her hips, dragging herself on top of your cock, a slow rocking motion against you, and you let out a gasp at the contact again. your brain is fuzzy and barely recovered when she starts moving.

she has every intent of making this as pleasurable for herself.

you can feel it, the lack of panties in the way. she came all the way here for one thing only, it only brings you faster to attention, the blood flowing straight to your cock once more.

she continues to ride the underside of your cock, small moans and quick breaths pulling from that gorgeous throat of hers.

you’re mesmerized, eyes in a trance, loving the way she’s using you for her own pleasure. to chase after her own orgasm. you try pulling at the restraints again, trying to desperately to touch her.

she smiles through all of it, enjoying you trying so hard to get your hands out of your belt. she smells sweet, and the mixed smell of everything is driving you insane.

“fia, please, let me touch you.” you’re pleading with her, barely able to get out a single word without pulling again. and she finds it insanely hot, how you can’t even focus on anything. eyes flying around, trying to pull yourself free, trying to watch her at the same time, trying so very hard.

she swears she can cum just from watching you, her continuous rocking motion making her approach her own orgasm. it’s the delicious pressure on her clit that makes her stay still. wants to see you continue to beg, wants that torture to ruin you.

until all you know and want is her.

“mm, maybe if you’re good i’ll let you.” sophia returns back to riding herself on top of you, leaning down to pepper kisses along your abs. a reminder that she has every right to touch you anywhere. it’s bringing you to your own orgasm too. and in a deft motion, she pulls herself back, seeing your cock angry red, trying to jump at the loss of contact.

she smirks at that, slowly lifting her hips to slid it near her hole. the tip just barely prodding the entrance, and with a slow controlled movement, she sinks down onto you, inch by inch, she takes her time. enjoying the delicious stretch, her hands scratching your stomach, where just seconds ago she had left kisses. each lipstick mark like a claim of possession.

“you look so good like this,” she drags a singular nail around, continuing to slowly lift her hips again, and rocking back down. “such a good little slut for me.”

“fia, fia, fia.” you chant her name like a mantra. caught under her spell and wanting nothing more than to spill everything inside of her. “fuck, i’m close.”

“already?” sophia smirks, and really she’s teasing you. she knows how wound up you are, how sensitive you are after your first orgasm, one slight clench and you would spill inside of her.

so she tests you, giving you a clench that has your eyes prickling with tears. you can barely contain yourself, twitching wildly at the sudden pressure. wanting so badly to touch her, any part of her.

she leans in close, giving you another squeeze that has you convulsing once more.

“fia, please, i’m so close.” you whine out.

she’s on cloud 9 right now, clenching again and then you’re spilling inside of her. loud pants and whines ripping through your already dry throat. cumming with every bit of energy that you have within you.

she leans close again, kissing you wildly through your orgasm. hair clenched in between her fingers. you’re letting out pretty sounds out of your mouth through each kiss. still trying so hard to pull against the leather belt. tears and cum spilling out of you. and sophia thinks you look glorious like this under her.

you eventually feel the ebbs of your orgasm dying out, sophia still wrapped around you, warm heat that is making you lightheaded.

“Jesus Christ, fia. i’ve never cum that hard.” you get out in between gasps, eyes closed and trying your best to calm your heart. it’s beating faster than you’ve ever felt it, and if you weren’t so spent you would realize sophia’s chasing after her own orgasm. using her fingers to bring her to her own orgasm, with your cock still nestled inside.

“mm, fuck, that’s good, stay inside.” she whines a bit, continuing to rub herself, rocking herself against you, and really you can’t take it anymore, nearly losing yourself in the throes of passion, almost blacking out. but the sensation keeps you close, the persistent tension against the belt.

“fuck!” she comes tumbling down, orgasm causing her to clench around you, shaking on top of you and then she falls on top of you. cock still very much inside of her as she continues to cum. you try your best to give her kisses, peppering her cheek with them as she’s spent too. heavy breathing, chest to chest, and your eyes are bleary.

sophia’s the first to move, pushing herself up, enough to have both of her arms holding her up on top of you. her eyes are so filled with emotion, the same kind of emotion she held in her eyes when she stood across from you on that altar, under God, and with everyone in the church.

she wants to cry, everything’s been so emotional, how she had yearned for you for years. regretting ever leaving you, carried your child and stood by everything that she did in hopes that you two would return to each other. when everything isn’t as messy as it once was.

just two girls trying to be with each other.

like both of you intended. and by no means is this meant to save everything between you, but for now, for this very moment where your two souls are connected like puzzle pieces, she’ll allow herself this relief.

in this moment you were hers and she was yours, through and through.

so she dips back down, giving you a kiss that’s pouring every emotion she can possibly muster up, every ounce of grief, pain, love, and yearning born from her love for you. she doesn’t know if it’s enough, but she hopes it means something to you. wet tears hitting your cheeks as she continues to kiss you. trembling lips that are trying to hold back the pain of losing you, over and over again.

“fia?” you ask her, watching the way the cries continue to slip out, silently crying on top of you. she continues her downpour of tears even when she slips the belt off your hands. your hands immediately on her face again. trying so desperately to stop her tears. so moved by your action that she cries all over again. head sinking to your shoulder.

two naked souls trying to have a conversation with each other.

you hold her in your hands, keeping her close and softly rubbing her back in comforting circles. and she cries in your arms. wrapping around your torso too. you hold her for the whole night, until her cries turn into soft breaths and her tears have dried. until she’s that girl that you asked to marry when you both were bright-eyed and had dreams of conquering the world.

you hold her close long after she’s fallen asleep. moving to another bed in the suite after you’ve cleaned up the mess between you two. the softness of her eyes hidden under calmness, gently brushing her hair as she continues to sleep through the night.

you eventually succumb to sleep too. holding her in your arms and hers securely around yours too. in the middle of the night she woke up in a panic, trying desperately to find you, only to realize you were right in front of her. soft snores and a heavy arm laid on her side.

she kissed each part of your face gently, just to prove to herself you were here. before closing her eyes again. drifting off to a dreamland where your family was all together, laughter and screams filling the air.

‐‐

last night was something.

you didn’t know how to explain it, and you’re sure sophia wouldn’t be able to either.

but last night, you both quickly cross the threshold of just ex partners trying to coparent. crossing the threshold of just trying to coexist in each other’s worlds without crashing into each other. but honestly, did you really think you could just coexist with sophia?

the same woman that stole your heart when she brought you charlie as a small pup from her uncles dog’s litter. the same woman that was your personal nurse when you almost got trampled by a bull and had to be bed-ridden for weeks.

no, you could never simply coexist with her. your lives were intertwined as if by the simple laws of nature. by the simple fact that she was yours and you were hers. through legality and spirituality you two could never completely separate from each other.

and by God’s grace, you were here. running your hands through her hair gently. an ache in your heart and soul to reconnect with the one woman who had spoiled love for you. it drives you mad with want and resentment, wanting for her to be yours again. no need for anyone to interfere.

if last night was any indication of her feelings for you, then you’d be a fool to think she wants anyone other than you. but still everything is so confusing with her, how she refuses to speak about him. you want answers, last night wasn’t just some jealous fueled hook up to you. it has to mean more. it simply has to, or else…did you just give your heart away again?

sophia stirs under your touch, a light smile at the touch, she leans into it, enjoying the way you continue to massage her scalp. it’s relaxing and reminds her of the small acts of affection that you love giving her.

“hi.” you whisper gently, liking the way she hums lightly. eventually placing a hand over your heart, just holding it there. feeling it pulse under her hand.

“hi, good morning.” you listen to her morning voice, like a songbird it’s tickles your ears. you smile wide before inching closer, placing a quick kiss onto her lips. to which she pulls you in closer, a long and searing kiss filling both of your desires.

“so, last night?” you cock an eyebrow, you weren’t playing any games and you hoped she wasn’t either. instead sophia curls into herself, feeling hot heat rise to her cheeks, dusting them in pink.

“last night…yeah…”sophia drags out. trying her best to hide under the covers again.

“nuh uh, come on, what was all that?” you ask. pulling the covers away, revealing an extremely embarrassed sophia. she instead covers her face with her hands. trying to roll to the other side. “fia?”

“ugh fine, i was…i was jealous okay!” sophia lets go of her hands, dropping them to her side, but still unable to look at you in the eyes. you chuckle a bit, to which she hides herself again.

this time you don’t bother trying to unveil her.

“yeah i got that,” you roll your eyes in amusement, oh it was clear as day she was jealous. she always was whenever someone got to close to you, or even lingered a little too long. this wasn’t the unusual part, sophia rarely acted on her jealousy. instead letting you respectfully tell the other party that you were taken, because in her head. it was hotter that way. it was hotter for her you to state how you were taken than for her to intervene.

“but seriously fia, you’ve never pulled that. i mean ever.” you continue, dropping the amusement in your voice.

“i know…and it’s so stupid, i just…” she continues to voice out her embarrassment, “everything between us is so rocky, and i needed this. i needed to prove to myself that i’m still who you want.”

your eyes soften at the sudden vulnerability. instead of embarrassment, sophia lets her hands drop. sitting up straight, half of the duvet still covering her. and you sit up too.

“fia…what do you mean?” you ask, taking her hand in yours, rubbing small circles on her hand. to calm her through this vulnerable moment, and show that you were here for her.

“i guess, what i’m trying to say is. i still need to know that you want me, and i know it’s selfish. but my God, i still want you, i always have, even when i left, everything in me still wants you.” she rambles out, her other hand moving in a dramatic motion, eyes that are darting everywhere, eventually focusing on you.

“and thomas?” you drop the question. the topic that you both have skirted around since your arrival. especially when you refused to let her explain herself when you left your ranch two years ago. you ask it in a quiet voice, feeling yourself sink at the question.

you weren’t ready for the answer, but it was now or never.

“thomas, he.” sophia runs her hand through her hair, a long sigh causing her to deflate. “he isn’t my fiancé, at least not willingly. he-his dad, i signed my acting contract with his dad.” she continues to speak, a hidden vulnerability that’s making her shrink herself, head dipped low, almost as if she’s embarrassed.

you hate the sight of it.

“i signed a contract when i first got here, right after i landed my first big role. everyone wanted to book me, so i signed with his company. and thomas he-he fucking used that contract against me.”

you nod, but there’s a sudden burst of anger growing in your heart.

“he fucking-he fucking made me get the divorce.”

she dropped the bomb, and you’re leaning back now, shock hitting your system all over again. “sophia, what?” you gasp out, eyes confused and she looks up, watery eyes staring into you.

“he used the contract against me, he knew i had a spat with one of his dad’s buddy directors. i walked out on the filming, my manager made it seem like i had health issues. but i couldn’t stand him, so i left, i left an entire project. everyone was mad, i mean his dad almost threatened to cut me.” sophia continues to talk, a tear falling and you can’t even utter a word.

“you can’t just leave a project unscathed, you could get blacklisted out here. and fucking thomas, he used that against me. he had evidence of me walking out, and he said he would leak it, it would’ve destroyed my career. i was fucking blackmailed.”

sophia continues to cry, angry tears rolling off her cheeks, much different from the ones she had last night.

“sophia…” you say gently, trying to calm her anger, even though the one inside of you was growing.

“and he fucking asked to get married. said it would fix everything, he would delete the evidence and i would be able to get back to my career. and i said yes, i never should’ve. should’ve just let my career die, but then he got records of us, our marriage. said he would leak that too, fuck.”

you continue to rub small circles, a gentle reminder that you were here, on her side.

“so i came back, to new mexico. i never wanted to ask for a divorce, i swear to you. and when you agreed, my heart shattered. i promised myself i would never love anyone the way i love you. we-we kept on being together, and i fell even harder than i could remember, i still wanted you as much as the first day i met you.” she brings her hand up to hold your head, vulnerable eyes searching for yours.

“i wanted something to keep, even if i had to be miserable for the rest of my life, i wanted to keep something of yours. i wanted to carry your kid. it was the only way i could have you close but keep you safe.” she cries a bit, still holding onto you, trembling fingers dancing along your jaw.

“anna. God gave me anna. God gave me her and i would never trade her for anything. she’s ours and she will always be.”

“sophia, damn it.” your words are unstable, and you let out a single tear, the pain of thinking about her for two years coming back. all the pain and yearning for each other never subsided. for either side.

“i know, i know baby.” she cries continuing to cradle your jaw, leaving a kiss so soft it felt like a petal had fallen on your face. “it was selfish–but it was all i had. i knew our time was almost up, and i needed something of yours. it’s so selfish, but i could never regret having her.”

you know in some twisted way what she was expressing. that night, two years ago, you wanted to leave something behind too. something for sophia to remember you by, the willingness to do everything she wanted, to even leave her with the possibility of carrying your child. you wanted it all.

“sophia, i was selfish too.” you confess, remembering how you felt that night, in the midst of the passion you realized how badly you wanted to leave your imprint on her too. “i’ve always, and i mean always, dreamed of having a big family with you. so when you asked me to, you know…i gave into that instinct, because it’s all i ever wanted.”

she stares at you, heart exploding in a thousand directions. she remembered very early on in your marriage, you bringing up wanting kids, maybe as a simple comment. but she couldn’t deny how happy you looked playing with her nieces and nephews.

“you want kids with me?” sophia asks.

“of course i do, fia.” you reply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “i always did, and i always will. even now i still do.”

you shift a bit, pulling her into a hug with how stunned she looks at you. another explosion of warmth from her heart. even with a tormented past that held her instincts back, how she aches just the same for you. it drives her mad, you wanted everything she wanted and more.

you rub her back gently, enjoying the way she’s holding you so close. she drops her head onto your shoulders, and you do too. just contently laying on each other.

“so, what do we do?” you ask. you’re hoping sophia won’t go through with the divorce. everything that was shared here, in the bed that you two share, it’s something worth preserving.

she lifts her head off your shoulder, taking both of your hands in hers, a determined look in her eyes.

“you remember lara?” she asks, a small smile on her eyes.

“of course.” you reply, pulling one of her hands towards you to give a small kiss, just across each knuckle.

“well, we found something, some dirt on thomas.” she starts, reaching for her phone and opening the photo album. “we’re going to leak it to the press, everything, all his partying problems, the coercion of marriage, my acting contract.”

she shows you everything, including the unsavory of parts of thomas’ addictive lifestyle. she even points out the clauses in thomas’ fathers inheritance. it’s all there in fine print, this would kill even the highest star’s reputation.

“but sophia, won’t this kill your career?” you ask, realizing there’s no way for her to get out of this freely. surely his team will try and ruin her, ruin everything that she’s worked so hard towards.

“we’re going to leak it to multiple sources, anonymously of course. we’ll leak it tomorrow morning. it’ll be the first day of freedom, i won’t be under his clutches anymore.” she says exasperatedly, dropping the phone onto her bed.

“tomorrow? why tomorrow?” you ask, going back to holding her hands.

“i wanted to tell you first, everything about me and my past, you should hear it from me. i didn’t want to leak it and have you find out that way. you deserved to hear it from me.”

“thank you.” it meant more to you than she could ever know. you were tired of hearing about everything after the fact, almost like an afterthought. to hear about everything firsthand was a relief, she considered how you would feel and took the time to explain the situation to you.

she gives you a kiss, a soft one. one that blooms feelings of love in your chest once more.

“i’m sorry, for everything.” she expresses.

“i know fia.” you respond, giving her a kiss that makes her wrap her arms around you, trying to deepen the kiss when you pull back. “but i need time, to process everything. i don’t think i can give you my heart as it is right now.”

you want to, but how could you be expected to offer your heart on a silver platter even with everything that’s been revealed. a part of you still resents her for what she’s refused to tell you, you know it was because of thomas but still there are things that wound your heart. and you need time.

you two were by no means perfect, but you would try everything to make it so that you two could work.

and sophia, she would try ten times harder to win your heart back.

she swore to God she would.

a/n: the much anticipated pt2 of the 'save a horse, ride a cowgirl' fic. i hope i have brought the story to justice. stay safe and stay healthy everyone. cheers, hope you've enjoyed!

#neoplatinum #katseye #sophia laforteza #sophia katseye #katseye x reader #katseye sophia #sophia x reader #sophia #katseye sophia x reader #sophia laforteza x reader #g!p reader

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springismss · 5 months ago

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ᱬ ࣪𖤐 more thoughts of rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who may or may not end up becoming rockstar fiancé! sukuna.

continuation of rockstar! sukuna thoughts.

ageless/minors dni. 18+ content scattered below. not limited to p in v, video sex, generalised nsfw. f! reader.

as always, reblogs/likes are always appreciated! enjoy! ᱬ ࣪𖤐

part 2 word count: 1.2k | series word count: 4.9k

links: jjk masterlist | masterlist | part 1 | part 3

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, at every given opportunity, will use samples of you in his music - voice, video, photos? all check. after all, he wants to show you off to the world - especially with photos that leave little to the imagination while protecting your dignity.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who has a space for you on his tour bus and vice versa. fuck what his bandmates had to say, he wanted you beside him whenever one of you wasn’t touring.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who at every given opportunity will take photos and videos of you, be that of you writing your band's next hit song or when the two of you are cuddled up in bed after fucking, and every moment in between.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, while fucking you in the nastiest positions you could imagine, marks you in a way he knows everyone out there will see. the thought of everyone seeing exactly who you belong to gets him off.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who spends more time backstage at your concerts, that much so that it would be considered weird if he wasn’t dating you. not that he would care what those losers would say, he could do whatever the fuck he wanted.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who doesn’t show it but he misses you so goddamn much whenever you’re both touring at the same time. he hates spending time apart from you, everything feels so empty.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who makes the most of the private album he has on his phone in times like that. an album that’s full of the most dirty pictures and videos of you. that one picture of you looking completely fucked out after he had you in a mating press? that video of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy at an alarming rate? that audio of you moaning out his name as you begged him to let you come? he’s got those and more. after all, he needs to make sure he remembers you in every way possible.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who will occasionally video call you when he’s keeping himself busy just so he can see your reaction when he moans out your name, growling that he’ll be back soon enough and you can make up for all the lost time he’s had to use his hand to pump his cock.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who also video calls you when you’re both touring so he can keep you company when you’re feeling a little down being in another country to him. who lets you fall asleep while on call as he knows it’s the only way you’ll get a good sleep and wake up feeling more refreshed. he’s counting down the days until you're back home.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who’s waiting for you at the airport for your band to land when your tour finally ended. he said it was purely so he could keep the paparazzi off you but in reality, he wanted to be the first person you saw when you stepped through the doors. big smile on your face as you wrap your arms around him, whispers of how much you've missed him making him smile softly.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, despite your protests, takes you out for a meal that night, being sure to wine and dine you because he missed the fuck out of you. who’s also buttering you up so he can be head first and cock first in between your legs when he gets you back through the front door of his apartment.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who might look like someone who doesn’t even know the meaning of the word soft but clearly he does, especially when he has you pinned down under him, thrusts into you soft and slow despite wanting to ruin you again. soft kisses and words as he silences you with kisses. after all, you need to rest your voice after such a long tour. you'll be the only one who will see this side of him, no one else and you love it as much as you love him.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, despite never thinking he’d ever find someone to love cause he truly believed the whole thing was bullshit, cuddles your closer to him, not wanting to let you go. arms wrapped around you and hand stroking your hair as you rested your hand on his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heart, possibly inspiring a new song knowing you.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who has to make sure everything is perfect, not being on the stage while planning something this big made him more nervous than he expected. give him a big audience and his bad-boy persona - that was a walk in the park compared to this.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who waits for you to come back from shopping before you head over to his place, helping you make some food before you both sit down on the sofa with a notebook in your hand. ideas bouncing off each other as his leg bounced in anxiety. he had to pick the right time.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, at the moment you ask him what should go in this verses last line, blurts out “you gonna marry me or what woman?” before taking in your bewildered expression, eyes wide.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who’s suddenly become full blown nervous as he looks at you, throat drying up and heart pounding so erratically it could burst from his chest. who feels like the seconds have begun to drag as he waits for you to respond, that’s if you ever did.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who, for probably the first time in his life, becomes deflated and quickly removes his hand from his pocket trying to distract himself, not paying attention to the huge smile on your face before you’re pouncing on top of him with a laugh, arms wrapping around him and you muttered back “I think the new line of the chorus should be of course i’ll marry you, you fucking idiot”.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who looks at you confused as you smile brightly, cupping his face and placing a hard kiss on his lips. who’s still as confused as you pull back, thumb rubbing his cheek as you hum out a quick “i said of course i’ll marry you”.

rockstar boyfriend! sukuna who becomes rockstar fiancé! sukuna when he finally slips the ring onto your finger, taking a moment to admire the fact you’re one step closer to not only being with him for the rest of your lives but taking his name as yours.

rockstar fiancé! sukuna who, a few days later, posts to his public insta account for the first time in a good few months, with a photo of you and him, hands up showing off the ring you wore while doing your signature poses with your other hand. “who wouldn’t say no to me? future mrs r.s. coming soon @/itsherduh”.

rockstar fiancé! sukuna who smirks at the comments that ping through his phone as he glances over to you lying on the bed, snapping a quick photo, this one being posted to his private insta this time with the caption “here’s to the rest of eternity together, my dove”.

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hyuckiefluff · 5 months ago

Text

Dr. Dreamy | Na Jaemin - Part 2

pairing: doctor!na jaemin x fem reader genre: smut wc: 5.1k summary: you’re the best valentine’s day gift jaemin’s ever had the pleasure of unwrapping. content warning: explicit sexual content, some bdsm-ish stuff (bondage), temperature play, breast play, usage of sex toys, multiple orgasms, edging, fingering, oral sex (m. receiving), mating press, lmk if i missed any! a/n: couldn’t wait for valentine’s day to post this sooo here it is (granted, over a month late) but i hope it makes up for the wait and satisfies all those who were craving a part two <3 thank you so much for reading and loving the first part. ps: read part 1 for the plot, this one is purely smut. oh and it feels important to add that juno by sabrina carpenter was on repeat while writing this. “have you tried this one?” picture jaemin saying that lol

part 1

Valentine’s Day had been exhausting for Jaemin. He barely had the energy to even think. The hospital was a madhouse. He’d never expected that so many injuries would come from couples trying something new with their partners. By the time he clocked out, it was already 11 PM, and he couldn’t shake the guilt gnawing at him for missing your first Valentine’s Day together.

But as soon as he stepped through the door, his thoughts of guilt disappeared. There you were, lounging on the couch, eating strawberries. You were wearing nothing but the skimpiest piece of lingerie he’d ever seen before.

His breath caught in his throat as your gaze fell on him, a slow smile curling on your lips. “Long day?” you asked, your voice dripping with sweetness.

Jaemin’s throat tightened, but he managed to choke out a response. “Yeah… you could say that.” His voice cracked slightly as his eyes scanned over your body. “You look....”

“Good, I hope?” You giggled softly when he couldn’t finish his sentence.

“Absolutely,” he said, swallowing hard. “…Are you trying to kill me?”

You smiled and stood up slowly, giving him a full view of your curves. His gaze followed your every movement as you sauntered toward him. You stopped just inches from him, his body stiffening in anticipation. His hands ached to touch you.

“What’s the matter?” you teased, pressing your body against his lightly. “You look like you want something.”

Jaemin bit back a smirk, trying to hold on to his composure. He leaned in, brushing your hair back from your neck, his lips grazing your skin. “And you look like you're offering something.”

You laughed, the sound of it making him feel lighter, but he couldn’t ignore the way his heart pounded in his chest, or the tightness between his legs that was only growing. You seemed to notice it too, your hand slipping down his chest. “I think you might be right,” you said with a wink.

Jaemin tried to maintain some semblance of self-control, but his hands betrayed him by wandering to your waist on their own. You flinched slightly from the coldness and he smiled at that.

"You know," he said, with a half-smirk, "I'm not that easy." There was a playful challenge in his eyes. "You have to try harder than this."

“Oh, really?” you grinned, your voice dripping with mock innocence. "Well, I think I can manage."

He felt the heat in his body surge just thinking about what you had planned for him. When you turned and began leading him to your room, he couldn’t help but let his eyes trace every curve of your body, lingering on the flimsy string of fabric between your cheeks—just a bow for him to undo.

Jaemin followed you into the bedroom, his mouth going agape at the sight. Candles flickered softly on the bedside tables, and rose petals were scattered across the floor and on the bed. The whole scene looked straight out of a movie, but it was real, and it was for him.

“Wow,” he murmured, genuinely impressed. “Princess, this is amazing. I should’ve done this for you…” His voice dropped, a slight frown forming as he looked at you.

“You can do it next year,” you replied, and the fact that you were already planning another Valentine’s Day with him made his heart swell. You closed the space between you, pulling him down by his neck and kissing along his jaw.

“You must be tired,” you whispered against his skin.

Jaemin's hands roamed over your back, cupping your ass making you gasp at the sudden touch. When your lips parted, he took the opportunity to kiss you. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, tasting the strawberries you’d been eating.

“Not anymore,” he whispered, lifting you up by your hips, your legs locked around his waist. He carried you to the bed, never breaking the kiss, his lips moving against yours with need.

You pulled away, and for a moment he thought you would kiss him again. Instead, you gently pushed him down onto the bed and guided him to lie back. His chest rose and fell with anticipation, lips parted as you climbed over him and settled on top. He stayed still, pretending to be unaffected, but you noticed the way his muscles tensed as he fought to hold back.

"I want to try something new," you said, your voice laced with playful daring.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Oh? Do I get a say in this?”

You paused for a moment before tugging his shirt up and over his head, letting your fingers graze his skin as you did. Your gaze roamed over him slowly, as if committing every inch to memory. His broad shoulders, abs that tensed whenever he took a breath, the faint happy trail he’d stopped shaving just because you said you liked it, the love bites still lingering on his chest from the other night.

Reaching for his hand, you guided it to the delicate bow at the center of your bra, your lips curling into a teasing smile. “Go on,” you murmured, “unwrap your present.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, smirking. He tugged on the bow and the bra fell open, exposing your breasts. He couldn’t help the soft, reverent exhale that escaped him. “Fuck…” he groaned, his hands reaching to touch you, but you stopped him with a soft but firm hand on his shoulder.

“Ah, ah,” you tutted, leaning in to kiss the frown from his face. “Let me take care of you first.”

Jaemin opened his mouth to protest, but then you were gone. He saw you searching in the drawer, and when you returned to the bed, you had something hidden behind your back. You leaned in close, whispering in his ear.

“Do you trust me, Jaem?”

He nodded, his voice barely a whisper. “Of course.”

Then, you pulled out a blindfold, and he froze, anticipation and excitement flooding his system in equal parts “What are you planning, love?” he asked, his tone soft but amused.

“Something you’ll really like,” you whispered, placing a kiss below his ear.

Jaemin chuckled nervously, shivering slightly. “Should I be worried?”

You only smiled, slipping the blindfold over his eyes. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding as his world went dark. His other senses immediately heightened and he tensed when he felt you reach for his wrists.

The soft touch of silk against his skin made him flinch. “Wait—what are you—” His breath hitched as you wrapped the restraints carefully around him.

His fingers twitched, an instinctive urge to move, but the fabric held him firm. He gave a small, experimental tug, testing the hold, and a shiver ran through him when he realized he couldn’t easily free himself. There was something almost dizzying about being kept like this, unable to touch you, forced to wait. The helplessness only made his excitement burn hotter.

“Wow,” he mused, voice light but strained, “Are we into bondage now?”

Despite his attempt at humor, you didn’t miss the way his chest rose and fell a little faster when you gave the restraints a small tug.

You leaned in, letting your lips ghost against his ear. “I want to see if you can last…” you whispered, your breath sending another shiver down his spine.

Jaemin swallowed, his smirk faltering just slightly. “What do you mean…” he asked, careful now, as if realizing he’d just walked into a trap.

You didn’t answer right away, and the silence only deepened the anticipation clawing at him. He tried to keep his breathing steady, to act unaffected, but the combination of the blindfold, the restraints, and the sheer uncertainty of what you’d do next made it impossible to be calm.

And then…cold.

A sharp gasp tore from his lips as the ice cube slid across his chest, its sudden chill stealing the breath from his lungs. His entire body stiffened, muscles flexing against the cold shock.

“God—fuck…” he cursed breathlessly. He yanked at the restraints, desperate to get away from the bite of the ice but craving more of your touch at the same time. “You really like torturing me, huh?”

You laughed softly, a wicked note in your voice. “Torture? No…” you murmured, trailing the ice lower, just skimming the waistband of his pants. “I just want to see how far you’ll let me go to make sure you feel really good.”

Jaemin let out a strained breath, his fingers flexing against the restraints. He was still trying to hold onto some shred of composure, but his body was betraying him. He felt himself grow harder in his pants and he wanted to beg for you to release him but he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of seeing him break down so easily.

“Tell me, Jaem… have you ever touched yourself on a particularly chilly night?” you asked, your voice smooth and teasing.

“What—…” His breath hitched when you slid the ice cube lower, past his hip bones. “I… I don’t know… I suppose so,” he said, his voice cracking slightly.

“Did your cold fingers feel nice?” you continued, drawing the ice in slow circles on his skin. “Did you like it?”

Jaemin was trying to focus on your words, but the heightened sensation of the cold against his burning skin was making it impossible to think. The contrast was overwhelming, making his hips jerk involuntarily.

“I—fuck… I guess so,” he breathed.

Without warning, you pulled his pants down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, slapping against his lower abdomen and startling both of you.

“You seem excited,” you said, letting your finger graze the side of his shaft. His breath stuttered as he tensed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

The next thing he felt was cold sliding over his tip.

“Shit—” he gasped, his whole body jerking as he tried to sit up, hunching over in a desperate attempt to regain some control. His bound wrists strained against the silk restraints, but they gave him no leeway. And then you did it again, this time, dragging the ice along the side of his cock, the sensation both shocking and exquisite.

“Fuck… th-that feels weird…” he shivered slightly.

His lips were red and wet from how he kept biting them, trying not to moan too loudly.

You leaned in, kitten-licking the tip while still holding the ice against him.

“Wait—” he moaned, his hips bucking up instinctively.

With one last teasing kiss to his tip, you pulled back, watching the way he twitched, the way his body practically vibrated with pent-up need.

“Looks like you’re ready to play.”

Jaemin exhaled shakily. The way you were handling him was so different to what he was used to. He was always the one setting the pace, pulling pleasure from you at his leisure. But now, you had him completely at your mercy. And the craziest part was how much he was enjoying it.

He heard more movement, some shuffling and the quiet creak of the mattress as you settled back in front of him. His muscles tensed in anticipation, his whole body straining against the restraints. He wanted to reach for you, to pull you down and take what he needed but all he could do was wait.

“Jaem, do you know what a cock ring is?” you asked, your voice so soft and innocent that for a second, he thought he must’ve misheard you.

“Hm?” His brain was lagging, too focused on the lingering cold of the ice cube melting against him. Then your words sank in. “Yeah,” he swallowed.

“Good,” you hummed, and before he could react, he felt your warm hand wrap around him, pumping once, just enough to make his hips twitch, to make a moan escape his throat before he could swallow it down.

And then something hard pressed against his dick.

“Fuck—” he hissed, his body tensing as you carefully slid the cock ring into place. His sensitivity was already heightened, and the combination of your touch and the unfamiliar tightness made him shudder.

“I want you to hold on as much as you can,” you murmured, trailing your fingers up his stomach, nails lightly scratching at his skin. “Can you do that for me?”

Jaemin groaned, tugging at the restraints in frustration. “You’re so fucking unfair.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to his hip bone. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Jaemin’s breath came in sharp, uneven pants as you pulled away, leaving him aching for more. His head tilted back, exposing the long line of his throat as he swallowed hard, trying to remain as calm as possible.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his voice shaky. His fingers clenched and unclenched where they were bound, his knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping nothing. “You’re really trying to kill me…”

You only smiled, still running your nails lightly down his torso, making his abs twitch. “You’re being so dramatic, Jaem.”

His head snapped up at that, eyes still blindfolded, but his frustration was written all over his face. “Dramatic?” He let out a humorless laugh. “Princess, I’m so fucking hard it hurts, and you’re just—” He groaned, pulling against the restraints again. “God, you’re such a fucking tease.”

You hummed as if considering his words, then leaned in, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below his navel. “But it looks like you’re enjoying it.”

Jaemin’s hips twitched, but he still managed a weak scoff. “I’d enjoy it more if you actually fucking did something.” His voice was strained, cracking at the edges.

You let your hand drift lower again, wrapping around him with a slowness that had him sucking in a sharp breath. “Is this what you want?” you murmured, your fingers squeezing just enough to make him twitch in your grasp.

“Fuck—yes, that’s what I fucking want—”

You gave a single stroke, dragging your hand up his length at an agonizing pace.

Jaemin let out a throaty whimper, and the sound only intensified the heat pooling in your lower belly.

His chest heaved as his thighs trembled. His whole body jerked, but the cock ring kept him from reaching the release he desperately chased.

“Oh my god,” he choked out, his voice practically a whine. “Princess, please, I need—”

You tightened your grip slightly, cutting him off with another slow, teasing stroke. His hips bucked into your hand, but it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t fucking enough, and the frustration in his voice was turning into something dangerously close to begging.

“Please what, Jaemin?” you asked, tilting your head.

His lip was pulled between his teeth so hard it was turning red, his whole body trembling from restraint. “Please, just—fuck, I don’t even know—just something, please, princess, I can’t—”

His voice cracked again, revealing his desperation in every syllable. He was completely wrecked, yet still nowhere near getting what he wanted.

And that was exactly how you wanted him.

When your mouth dropped down on his dick again, you took in more than just the tip this time. You sucked and licked him just the way you knew he liked.

“God… oh god,” he groaned, his hips jerking up instinctively, but you kept him firmly in place, pressing down on his thighs.

“Be good,” you murmured against his swollen tip, lips brushing the heat of him. “Or I’ll stop.”

Jaemin let out a shaky breath, his fingers twitching at his sides, unable to do anything but take what you were giving him. “Fuck… you’re so—” His voice broke into a strangled gasp as you sank back down, taking him deeper, your tongue swirling along his length.

He was losing control. His thighs trembled under your touch, ragged gasps escaping his lips. His body was already screaming for release, but the cock ring kept him stuck on that unbearable edge, holding him in a storm of pure, agonizing pleasure.

“I can’t… anymore… please.” His voice was strained, broken apart by breathless moans. “Please, take it off.”

You pulled back just enough to let your breath fan over his tip. “Take what off, Jaem?”

“Everything,” he choked out. “Let me touch you… let me see you… let me fuck you…please.”

The little laugh you let out made his stomach tighten painfully. If he wasn’t so desperate, he would’ve held out longer just to make you work for it. But he was past the point of caring about winning right now.

“Well…” You let your hands caress down his thighs, feeling the way his muscles clenched under your touch. “I think you’ve been patient enough.”

The first thing to come off was the blindfold. Jaemin blinked rapidly as his eyes adjusted, the dim light in the room almost blinding after what felt like hours in the dark. His gaze flickered over your form, hovering over him like a lioness about to pounce. Fuck, he forgot you were braless. His hands twitched against the restraints, desperate to touch you.

Then his eyes dropped lower. His dick was painfully swollen, red at the tip, the cock ring still keeping him from the relief he needed. His breath caught as you reached down, fingers brushing his base before you finally removed it. The rush of sensation that followed had his whole body tensing, his abs clenching as he gasped through the sudden overwhelming relief. He was seconds away from—

You moved to undo the silk restraints, and the moment his wrists were free, he lunged.

You let out a sharp squeal as he grabbed your arm and yanked you down, pressing your body flush against his chest. In one quick movement, he flipped you onto your back, looming over you with a wicked, predatory grin.

“Shouldn’t have fucking released me, princess,” he growled, voice still rough from moaning. He licked his lips, eyes raking down your body like he was deciding where to ruin you first. “You’re gonna take everything I give you now.”

There was no fear in your gaze—only pure, smoldering desire.

Jaemin’s lips crashed against yours, devouring you, tongue sliding past your lips as his hands finally claimed your body. His fingers found your breasts, squeezing, teasing, all while his hips rolled against your barely clothed core.

Then, he flipped you onto your stomach. You gasped, feeling his body press against your back, his lips tracing a heated path from your shoulder to the nape of your neck.

“Wanted to do this since I walked through that door,” he muttered, voice thick with lust. He hooked his fingers into the delicate lace of your underwear, undoing the tiny bow with a slow pull. His eyes went dark with greed and desire when he saw it fall apart and expose your bare backside to him.

He kissed along your spine, then rocked his hips against your ass with a shuddering sigh before flipping you over again.

You were already breathless, your mind hazy, and he still hadn’t even touched you where you needed him most.

But then, just when you thought he was going to finally take you—he suddenly grabbed your ankles and yanked you down the bed, shifting you so you were face-to-face with his abs.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, until you felt his dick sliding between your breasts.

“Gonna let me fuck your tits, princess?” he murmured, voice husky.

Heat pooled in your stomach at his words, and without hesitation, you pressed your hands against the sides of your chest, squeezing your breasts together, trapping him between them.

Jaemin groaned, the sound deep and raw, before spitting onto your chest to lubricate the area.

You gasped softly, the sheer filth of it making your thighs squeeze together, but Jaemin was also too far gone to tease you about it. He let out a low, guttural fuck as he thrust, slow at first, watching himself slide between the plushness of your breasts.

“Shit…” His breathing was heavy, his fringe damp with sweat, his jaw slack as he fucked into the tight heat of your chest. “Letting me fuck your perfect tits—fuck.”

The sounds filling the room were obscene. The wet slide of his dick against your skin, the breathy moans slipping from his lips, the quiet, desperate whimpers coming from you.

Your legs clenched again, seeking friction, your own arousal dripping down your thighs.

Jaemin’s rhythm faltered. His thrusts grew uneven, more desperate. “I’m—fuck, I’m close—”

Suddenly, his hand was on your jaw, tilting your head up.

“Open for me, princess.”

You parted your lips instinctively, watching through hazy, lidded eyes as he pumped himself, working himself closer and closer—until the first warm spurts landed across your chest and tongue. His thumb swiped through the mess on your chest, and before you could even react, he brought it to your lips.

“Taste.” His voice was hoarse.

Your tongue flicked out to catch it. His breath stuttered as he watched you.

“Fuck,” he exhaled, his fingers pressing against your tongue just a second longer before pulling away. His cock twitched against your stomach, already getting hard again.

You let out a small whimper, rubbing your thighs together, the ache between your legs only growing sharper.

Jaemin caught the movement immediately.

“Oh?” He smirked, eyes flicking down to where you were shamelessly pressing your legs together for any friction. “You want more?”

You whined, squirming.

He hummed, as if amused. “Poor thing.”

“Jaem…” Your voice came out as a whimper, breathless, desperate.

His smirk deepened. He loved seeing you this way—helpless, needy, falling apart before he even touched you properly.

But he wasn’t going to make it easy.

“What’s wrong, princess?” His hand ghosted over your stomach before slipping between your legs, fingertips grazing your soaked folds. “You need help?”

You bucked your hips, but he barely applied any pressure, making you whimper in protest.

You let out a frustrated sob, moving to take over yourself, but his hand shot out and gripped your wrist, pinning it to the mattress.

“Ah, ah! We can’t have that,” he tsked, eyes flashing dark.

The next thing you know, your hand is being replaced with his own, two fingers sliding through your folds. Your entire body jolted at the contact.

Jaemin groaned, pressing his forehead against yours. “Shit, you’re so wet, princess,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through your slick before pressing them against your swollen clit. “You like having my cock between those pretty tits that much?”

You barely managed a nod, too lost in the feeling of his fingers teasing you.

“Such a messy little thing,” he teased, rubbing slow, agonizing circles over your clit, just enough to make you desperate, but not enough to give you what you needed. “I should make you wait. Make you beg for it.”

“Jaemin—”

His fingers pushed in, stretching you, filling you just enough to make you gasp.

“Holy fuck,” Jaemin groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder. His cock was already leaking against your thigh, his body trembling as he tried to hold himself back. “You’re so tight. You’re gonna fucking choke my fingers.”

He pumped his fingers in and out, slow but deep, so deep you were writhing beneath him.

“Jaem, please—” Your walls clenched, thighs trembling.

“Hm?” He purred. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

Your eyes were glassy, your body begging for it. “Please, just fuck me.”

Jaemin let out a sharp exhale, visibly shaking as he tried to hold himself back.

“You—” His voice broke. He looked down, seeing how you were practically dripping down his fingers, and groaned, cursing under his breath. “Jesus Christ.”

His fingers slipped out with a wet, filthy sound. Before you could even whine, he grabbed your thighs, spreading you wide and pressing the head of his cock against your entrance.

Your breath caught.

But he didn’t push in.

He just teased, rubbing himself between your folds, coating himself in your slick. He watched with dark, hooded eyes as you twitched beneath him, whimpering at every brush of his cock against your swollen clit.

“You want it?” His voice dripped with sin.

“Jaem—”

“Beg for it.”

The jerk was using your own tricks against you.

Now, you were regretting edging him earlier, because this… this felt like hell.

You whined, your nails digging into his arms. “Please, Jaem. Please. I need you. I need your cock inside me, I—fuck—I can’t—”

That was enough for him. With a wrecked groan, he slammed inside you in one stroke, bottoming out so deep you saw white.

A choked cry left your lips, your entire body arching off the mattress.

“Oh my fucking god—” Jaemin’s voice broke, his hands gripping your thighs so hard you were sure it would bruise.

He was shaking, breathing ragged, his cock twitching inside you as he tried not to cum right then and there. You were so tight, so wet, so warm. He felt like he was going insane.

“You—” His voice was strained, wrecked. “You feel so fucking good, princess.”

His thrusts punched the breath out of you, slamming into you so deep you felt it in your stomach, your walls clenching around him like a vice.

“Holy shit—fuck—” Jaemin groaned, his hips snapping against yours in a brutal rhythm. “You’re so tight—I can feel you fucking squeezing me—”

You couldn’t even form words, just moaned and whimpered, nails raking down his back.

Jaemin growled, grabbing the backs of your knees, pushing them up and folding you beneath him.

The angle —oh god—the angle had his cock hitting so deep it left you shaking, your mouth falling open in a silent scream.

“There we go,” Jaemin groaned, watching you writhe under him. “That’s the spot, isn’t it?”

“Jae—Jaemin—”

“Shhh,” he cooed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re taking me so well, princess. So, so well.”

His fingers found your clit, rubbing fast. The pleasure crashing over you all at once.

“Cum for me, baby,” Jaemin rasped, barely holding himself together. “Make a fucking mess on my cock.”

Your orgasm tore through you, so intense your vision blurred, your entire body shaking under him as you cried out his name.

Jaemin groaned, feeling you clench around him. His hips stuttered as he buried himself deep, moaning against your throat as he came again, filling you completely.

For a moment, neither of you moved. Just heavy breathing and shaking limbs.

Jaemin finally lifted his head, sweat-damp hair clinging to his forehead, eyes dark.

He smirked a cat-like smile.

“I hope you don't think we’re done.”

He was still inside you, his cock twitching, throbbing, still semi-hard despite just coming deep inside you. He could feel you clenching weakly around him.

You didn’t want it to be done.

You felt empty, even with his cock still buried inside you. You needed more, needed all of him, needed him to ruin you completely.

And he could tell.

Jaemin tilted his head as his fingers dug into your thighs, keeping them spread wide for him. His thumbs traced slow circles into your skin both soothing and possessive, a silent reminder that you weren’t going anywhere.

“Think you can handle more?” The low rumble of his voice had you feeling dizzy.

You nodded, too fucked out to form anything coherent.

He hummed, pretending to consider. “Now that I think about it… you were pretty mean to me earlier.” His hands slid lower, gripping your ass and giving it a sharp squeeze that made you jolt. “Do you even deserve it?”

“Yes—yes, please, Jaem—”

He laughed, a breathy chuckle that broke apart into something rougher, needier.

“Insatiable little thing.”

And then he was pulling out achingly slow, dragging every inch of himself through your trembling walls. The friction sent a helpless whimper tumbling from your lips.

Jaemin nearly lost his mind at the sound.

He stared down at you, his ruined, pretty girl. Face flushed, hair sticking to your damp skin, lips swollen and parted, body still twitching from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

He growled, gripping your waist and flipping you onto your stomach in one swift movement.

You gasped, heart pounding as Jaemin manhandled you effortlessly, positioning you exactly how he wanted with your chest pressed to the mattress and ass high in the air.

He moaned, running his hands down your spine, over the curve of your hips, before gripping your ass and spreading you open for him.

“Look at you,” he breathed, watching the way your slick dripped down your thighs, his own cum still leaking from your core.

His cock throbbed painfully at the sight.

“Fuck, baby, I made such a mess of you.”

You whimpered, pushing your hips back toward him, trying to tempt him. But Jaemin only smirked, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance, teasing you, making you squirm.

“What do you want, princess?” His voice was low, smug.

You whined, pressing your face into the pillow, trying to grind back against him.

“Jaem—please—”

He tutted, gripping your hips to hold you still. “You’re so cute when you beg.”

Then, he slid inside you again, slowly making you feel every inch. You cried out, hands gripping the sheets desperately.

Jaemin groaned, rolling his hips slow but deep. His cock pressing against a spot that made black spots appear in your vision.

“Oh, my god—”

“That’s it,” he praised, gripping your waist tighter. Watching the way your back arched, how you clenched around him so perfectly.

He was so deep like this, hitting angles that had you completely unraveling beneath him.

“God, you’re perfect for me,” he groaned, his hips snapping forward just a little harder, making you choke on your breath.

His hands traveled down, reaching for your arms, and before you could even react, he pulled you up, pressing your back against his chest. One hand snaking around your waist, the other gripping your throat lightly.

Your moan was sinful, body trembling as Jaemin fucked up into you, the new position letting him bury himself impossibly deep.

“Shit—” Jaemin choked out, pressing his lips to your sweaty temple.

His free hand slid down your stomach, two fingers finding your clit, rubbing torturous circles in time with his thrusts.

You gasped sharply, hands grabbing at his wrists.

“Too much?” He teased, his voice taunting, but the way he was shaking against you, the way his thrusts were growing sloppier, told you he was just as close as you were.

You could only moan, pleasure overwhelming you, his cock dragging against that perfect spot over and over, his fingers pushing you closer—

“Cum for me again, princess.” He said, lips pressed to your jaw, groaning with every thrust. “I want to feel you squeeze me.”

And just like that another orgasm crashed over you, your walls clamping down on him so tight he nearly screamed.

Jaemin cursed, feeling you pulsing around him, dragging him straight into his own orgasm.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—” His body convulsed, hips stuttering as he filled you up once more, letting go with a strangled moan against your throat.

Jaemin finally collapsed, pulling you down with him. He wrapped himself around you, pressing lazy kisses to your bare shoulder.

His arms tightened, as if he never wanted to let you go.

“God,” Jaemin exhaled, still breathless, lips brushing against your ear.

“I think I might have broken you, princess.”

divider creds toastray

my inbox is always open for any comments/feedback about the fic <3

if you like my work or if you’d like to request something, you can send a kofi, but reblogs are just as cool, thank uu ! 🎀

#jaemin fanfic #jaemin fic #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct smut #nct dream fic #nct dream smut #nct imagines #jaemin smut #jaemin x reader #jaemin x y/n #nct fanfic

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lqfiles · 1 year ago

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PAY THE PRICE — smau

after getting evicted out of your old place, you're left with no other choice but to look for a cheaper alternative. which is how you end up becoming neighbours with lee haechan, who has a passion for music and disturbing whatever peace and quiet there is.

or in which you found yourself a very nice apartment, the only issue? your neighbour is your friend's somewhat ex-situationship who won't stop playing his guitar at 2 am in the night.

neighbour!haechan x fem!reader

genre ; enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, probably slow burn, humour, neighbours au.

extras ; haechan is kinda an asshole | boy next door + likes everyone but you trope-ish | profanity and death jokes because they’re silly! | probably romantic tension | some mark x reader here and there | renjun and jaemin having their own e2bffs moment | probably inaccurate depiction of how someone would get evicted pls don’t shoot me 😅

notes ; i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan i love haechan <333 idk i got nothing better to do now so i’ll just start this because i know i won’t be posting any of the other long fic wips any time soon 😭

PLAYLIST ; She , Tyler The Creator — For The Night , Chloe Bailey — IDK WHAT TO TELL YOU , Bktherula — Surprise , Chloe Bailey — I Wanna Be down , Brandy — Suite Life , FLO — Is It A Crime? , No Guidnce — Round&Round , NCT U .

STATUS ; completed! (18.02.25)

profiles (1) profiles (2)

intro

1 ) jaehyun’s trophy wife

2 ) free cookies (not really)

3 ) midnight disturbance

4 ) attempted murder?

5 ) THIS IS FAMILY

6 ) haechan’s second identity

7 ) kiss buddies and useless complaints

8 ) critically acclaimed idgaf veteran

9 ) founders keepers..?

10 ) yangyang’s new interest (y/n)

11 ) a late welcome party

12 ) invest in a cage jaemin

13 ) cat fight (REAL)

14 ) the cure to a lack of sleep = cup pong

15 ) who said quiet guys can’t be freaky?

16 ) you got a girlfriend?

17 ) i DO have a girlfriend

18 ) this is life, i love life..

19 ) nah. they fucking.

20 ) let’s play apex?

21 ) whole house mad

22 ) drunken regrets

23 ) he’s got to be fucking with me..

24 ) a sincere apology letter (kinda)

25 ) are we cool or not?

26 ) we’re good (for real)

27 ) a personal guitar lesson

28 ) LIVE TWEETING YNHAE MOMENTS

29 ) a moment of vulnerability

30 ) friendly q&a between friends

31 ) that’s strange.. that’s weird..

32 ) solution to job loss = family guy (???)

33 ) what has jaehyun done for society?

34 ) ynhae bonding activity hours

35 ) an unwanted double date with yangyang

36 ) an overwhelming realisation

37 ) the universe can kill itself

38 ) a “what are we” conversation

39 ) i got that hair too, kinda

40 ) reviewing haechan’s tweet and new issues

41 ) diagnosed with the crush disease

42 ) putting your satisfaction first

43 ) some girl talk with mark.. this diva..

44 ) girls day gone WRONG

45 ) homies before hoemies

46 ) #BringBackGenderNorms2024

47 ) no one but us

48 ) the words of the DEVIL

49 ) remove the fake from life

50 ) y/n and jaemin would’ve loved this

51 ) you’re a queen and he’s just.. there

52 ) we are sooooo fixing this

53 ) spiritual connection attempts

54 ) satanic mind manipulation

55 ) cucklord

56 ) when you kinda gaf

57 ) when you been thuggin it out for so long

58 ) a second try

59 ) be careful who you call OOMF

60 ) the paid price

BONUS:

TBA . . .

TAGLIST is closed

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wooyoungiewritings · 2 months ago

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Borrowed Time - Seonghwa x Reader (Part 2)

Summary: You didn't think you'd find someone after your husband of 8 years suggested an open marriage. A few weeks after matching on a dating app, you find yourself swept away on a surprise getaway with none other than Seonghwa: your husband’s boss, and the man who’s been quietly turning your world upside down. The chemistry is undeniable, the tension electric, but you made a promise to be honest with your husband before things go too far. Still... what’s the harm in finding a few loop-holes? If it’s not technically sex, does it really count?

Word count: 13.1K

Genre: Fluff, Rich Seonghwa, a little angst, slow burn, smut (they do something so many times in this chapter lmao sorry i got carried away)

warnings: Seonghwa with reader (fem pronouns), TEASING, dom Seonghwa, fingering, oral (male/fem receiving), grinding hard (omg i don't know how to explain it, they're literally millimeters from just going at it), lmk if I missed anything! Author's note: I'm in a good mood. And you guys are literally so sweet and supporting, I can not NOT post chapter 2 already!? so here it is! I hope you have an amazing day <3

PART 1 PART3

This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way.

You’re not sure how it’s been two weeks.

In some ways, everything feels exactly the same. Same apartment, same unread texts from your husband, same untouched conversation that’s been looming over you like a cloud.

But then there’s Seonghwa.

And somehow, everything feels different.

You talk every day. Constant check-ins, sweet little texts, voice notes when he’s driving, memes he knows will make you laugh. Sometimes he calls at night just to hear your voice before bed. And you don't think you're imagining it, that softness in the way he says your name, the unspoken want in his pauses.

You’ve seen him a few times. Nothing dramatic, no grand dates, just… him. His space. His voice. A mug of tea pressed into your hands. A blanket he tugged tighter around your shoulders without saying a word. Quiet dinners where you talked about the stupidest things, where you teased him until he cracked up, eyes crinkling, hand squeezing your knee under the table like he couldn’t not touch you.

And still, he never pushed. Never asked for more than what you were ready to give.

But that didn’t stop you from kissing him.

You kissed him on his couch after laughing too long at something dumb he said. You kissed him in his hallway when you were saying goodbye and didn’t want to leave. You kissed him once in the middle of a sentence because you couldn’t stop yourself.

Every time, it left you both breathless.

And every time, his hands stayed respectful, cupping your cheek, holding your waist, letting you choose how far. Letting you feel safe.

You don’t think he knows how much that means.

You’re still married. You still wear your ring as a reminder. And even if that feels like a technicality at this point, you haven’t had the conversation. Not the real one. You’ve tried texting your husband more than once, saying you needed to talk. Said you weren’t okay. You meant to say more, but what’s the point when all you get back is a thumbs up or "we’ll talk soon"?

He hasn't been home. He hasn’t asked how you are. You’ve stopped waiting for him to care.

So when your phone buzzes on Friday morning with Seonghwa’s name, you unlock it fast, too fast. Already smiling before you even read it.

Seonghwa: I need you to trust me. Pack a small weekend bag. No heels. Cozy clothes. Something to sleep in. Maybe a swimsuit. Pick you up at 5.

You stare at your phone for a full minute, grinning like an idiot.

You: Is this a kidnapping?

Seonghwa: Yes. But the softest, coziest kind. With snacks.

You: …Fine. I’m in.

Your smile falters, but in the softest way. Your heart melts.

Packing is easy. The hard part is waiting.

You toss in leggings, sweaters, that shirt of his you still haven’t returned. You throw in your swimsuit, mostly because you’re curious. And maybe because you like the idea of his eyes on you. And when you zip the bag closed, you find yourself hoping the quiet weekend isn’t too quiet. That maybe you’ll get to kiss him again, this time in a place where no one else exists but the two of you.

When he picked you up, he had two coffees in a cup holder and your favorite granola bars in the passenger seat. And the second you buckled in, he turned to you, eyes warm and voice soft.

“Hi.”

That it is. Just that one word. And your whole heart melted.

The two hour drive is filled with talking, laughing, and the occasional hand on the thigh from Seonghwa. You don’t know what to expect when he starts driving outside of town and into a wooded area, but when a lovely, aesthetic cabin comes into view, your mouth drops. The inside of the cabin wraps around you like a hug, but Seonghwa’s already moving, dropping both your bags by the coat rack and stretching with a groan that makes his hoodie ride up slightly.

“I should give you the grand tour,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at you with that boyish smile that makes your chest do a weird little skip. “Even though it’s not really grand.”

You follow him through the cabin as he gestures casually, left to a small but cozy guest room, across to the bathroom with a deep old tub and brass fixtures, and then finally his room at the back of the cabin.

“This is mine,” he says, flicking on the light in his bedroom. It’s simple, wooden floors, navy sheets, a stack of books on the nightstand, but it’s very him. Soft and clean, masculine without trying.

You hover by the door. “Feels weirdly like you.”

He chuckles. “That’s either a compliment or you’re calling me boring.”

“Oh, definitely a compliment,” you murmur, eyes scanning the room. “You’ve got good taste.”

“Mm, well, let’s see if that still holds up.”

You raise a brow as he turns and heads toward a door at the end of the hall. “There’s more?”

“It’s technically the basement,” he says, grabbing a light switch and flipping it on, “but it’s my favorite part.”

You follow him down the short staircase, and the moment you step off the last stair, your mouth parts slightly.

The space is warm, not just heated, but glowing. Soft lighting reflects off the water of a wide, in-ground pool, steam rising lazily above it. The air smells faintly of eucalyptus and cedar, and the entire room is surrounded by smooth, stone-textured walls and plush seating tucked into corners. A wall of glass windows looks out into the forest beyond, the trees dark silhouettes in the fading light.

You turn to him, wide-eyed. “You have a pool. In your cabin.”

He shrugs a little, but the corner of his mouth pulls up. “Was kind of a present to my family. First thing I bought when things started going well.”

“Seonghwa.” You step forward and dip your fingers in the water, it’s warm and silky-soft. “We are absolutely coming back down here later,” you say.

He grins. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He watches you a beat longer, something unreadable behind his eyes, then says, “Gonna grab some firewood before it gets too dark. You okay here?”

You nod, but as he heads out, you drift back toward the living room, standing near the wide back windows.

He’s outside now, rolling up his sleeves as he stacks firewood like it weighs nothing. His jaw clenches when he lifts the heavier pieces, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed in focus. It’s almost criminal how good he looks like this. The sky’s turning gold behind him, making his skin glow, casting a soft light through his hair. And you just… stare.

Because this is the same man who ran his fingers gently through your hair on the couch, who kissed your forehead like it meant something, who told you to pack your bag for a weekend away without ever asking for anything in return.

But damn, he’s hot.

He glances toward the window and catches you watching. Raises a brow. Smirks. Doesn’t break eye contact as he sets the last log down and brushes his hands off on his jeans, and God, you feel like your skin is warming faster than the fireplace he’s about to light.

By the time he’s back inside, shaking the cold from his clothes, you’re in the kitchen, pretending you weren’t just ogling him like a teenage crush.

“See something you like?” he says as he walks by, voice low and teasing.

You scoff. “Relax, lumberjack. Just making sure you didn’t freeze to death.”

He grins but doesn’t say anything, just slides up behind you as you start pulling ingredients out of the bag he brought. His arms wrap around your waist loosely, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You cook, right?” you ask, leaning into him just a little.

“I survive,” he answers. “But for you, I’ll follow any recipe you give me.”

The kitchen fills with the soft sounds of chopping and the simmering of sauce, your bodies constantly brushing. He’s touchy in the most subtle ways, hand guiding your lower back as you switch places, fingers brushing yours as he hands you a spoon, lingering way too long when you try to rinse a dish and he steps in just to “help.”

At one point, you drop a piece of onion and groan, bending to pick it up, and he makes a soft, playful noise behind you.

“Dangerous territory,” he mutters.

You glance over your shoulder. “You're in my space.”

He tilts his head, impossibly smug. “It's my cabin.”

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling, heart full in a way you didn’t expect to happen so quickly again.

And maybe he feels it too, because he kisses your temple again before stepping away to stir the pot.

But underneath it all is the quiet awareness of what hasn’t been said yet. The unspoken weight of your still-husband, and the fact that Seonghwa, for all his charm and sweetness, hasn’t pushed you to talk about it.

So the touches stay light. The kisses stay soft. Neither of you cross that line.

But once the dishes are done, and the fire crackles in the hearth, the cabin feels like a world of its own.

The pool room is already warm when Seonghwa walks in, steam curling through the air in soft waves. The glow from the underwater lights dances on the ceiling, casting shifting shadows over the stone walls. He moves quietly, setting fresh towels on the bench, lighting a couple of the wall sconces to soften the ambiance. His t-shirt comes off first, then his sweats, revealing black swim trunks that hang low on his hips, and he paces a little, half-distracted as he runs a hand through his hair.

He’s calm until he hears footsteps on the stairs.

When you step into view, wrapped in a towel, his breath catches.

Your fingers grip the edge of the towel a little tighter. You hesitate. The bikini you’re wearing is simple, but it’s more skin than you’ve shown in months, more than your husband ever really looked at, anyway. There's a flicker of hesitation, a flare of insecurity rising uninvited. You almost say something to brush it off, to deflect, but then your eyes find Seonghwa.

And he’s staring.

Not in a way that makes you shrink, but in a way that freezes him in place. Your breath hitches. You glance down and away, trying to ignore the flush creeping up your neck, and drop the towel, stepping toward the pool. You slip into the water, letting the heat rise around your body, washing away a bit of that self-consciousness with it. Seonghwa joins you, smooth and slow, his eyes still lingering.

“You’re staring,” you murmur, voice smaller than usual, almost embarrassed.

“I know,” he says, not even blinking. “I couldn’t stop if I tried.” His gaze doesn’t flicker. It’s steady, reverent. Like you just knocked the air out of him.

You swim around a bit first, exchanging light, almost flirty conversation. It's relaxed, warm, his presence does that to you. Grounding you, calming that nervous swirl in your chest.

Then, eventually, you stop in the deeper end. You tread water in front of him, breathing just a little heavier than before. Your hands rest on his shoulders, tentative, and he lets you come closer.

Your legs slide around his waist. He catches you easily. Neither of you moves for a beat.

The water sloshes softly around you. His hands settle on your hips, anchoring you, but careful, not grabbing, not pulling. Just holding. You look at him and something in your chest flutters.

“You okay?” he asks softly, eyes scanning your face.

You nod. “Yeah. Just… haven’t worn something like this in a while. Feels weird.”

He tilts his head, fingers brushing your side gently under the water. “You look beautiful.”

You don’t answer, but you lean in, resting your head on his shoulder, enjoying how calming and safe you feel. His hands flex slightly against your hips, like it takes everything in him not to pull you closer. The tension between you simmers. Quiet, patient, but unmistakable. He smells like clean skin and chlorine, his wet hair slicked back, droplets sliding down the strong line of his neck.

You You don’t meet his eyes at first when you speak. “Can I tell you something kinda… embarrassing?”

That gets his attention instantly. His brows lift, and he leans in slightly, voice warm and gentle. “You can tell me anything.”

You pull back to be able to look into his eyes.

“I’ve only ever been with him. My husband.” The word tastes heavy in your mouth. “I’ve never been with anyone else, and I don’t know… that feels weird to admit.”

He doesn’t flinch. He just blinks once, tilts his head a little. “It’s not weird,” he says, quieter now. “It just means you trusted someone. That’s not a bad thing.”

You bite your lip. “I guess. But now I’m here, with you, and-,” your cheeks grow hot “I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know how to be good at this. What if I’m awkward? Or don’t know what you like?”

His hands squeeze lightly at your hips. “You think I’ve been touching you like this because I’m not into it?”

That makes you laugh, and he grins, leaning in just enough that his nose brushes yours. But he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet.

You glance down at the way your chest rises and falls in your bikini top, the water gliding over your skin. “It’s been a long time since I felt wanted like this. And it’s a little scary, to want something but not be sure how to ask for it.”

Seonghwa’s voice drops, eyes tracing the droplets clinging to your collarbone. “You’re asking just fine.”

His gaze lingers on you, openly, hungrily. His hands are still on your hips, but they inch upward just slightly, thumbs brushing the skin just under the hem of your bikini top. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to want it. The rest we’ll figure out.”

Your breath catches. “I do want something.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours again. “Yeah?”

You press your lips to his cheek. Then his jaw. Then lower, teasing a line down his throat. “I’ve been thinking…” Your voice is practically a whisper now. “It doesn’t count as sex if it’s… other stuff, right?”

He groans, head tipping back. “You’re playing with fire.”

“Maybe,” you murmur against his skin, “but I haven’t had anything in months. You expect me to behave?”

His grip tightens at your waist, and you feel it, the slow, undeniable shift in him.

“You keep grinding on me like this,” he warns, breath uneven, “and I’m not gonna be able to play nice.”

You grind a little harder.

“Oops.”

Seonghwa growls low, then turns swiftly, your back pressing against the warm tile wall of the pool. He doesn’t kiss you right away. He just looks at your parted lips, your damp lashes, the water beading on your chest.

“You’re sure?” he breathes. “No sex. Just this?”

You nod. “Loop-hole.”

He huffs a laugh against your lips, and he finally kisses you. Hungry and hot and messy in the best way. You arch into him, his hands roam freely now, one trailing down to your thigh to hold you in place, the other teasing along your side.

And then he drops lower.

He doesn’t hesitate, not even a second.

Seonghwa shifts your weight in his hands, lifting you like it’s nothing. The warm water laps at your thighs as he sets you gently on the smooth tile ledge that curves around the inner rim of the pool, half in, half out of the water. Your calves stay submerged, but the rest of you is gloriously exposed, slick with heat and nerves and want.

Your breath hitches. You’re not used to being seen like this. Vulnerable, bared, soaked in every way possible, but his eyes never leave yours.

“Is this okay?” he murmurs, hands still on your thighs, thumbs stroking gently back and forth. “You tell me to stop, I’ll stop.”

Your fingers curl against the tile. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That’s all it takes.

The second you nod, breathless, trembling, your thighs already spread for him on the edge of the tile, Seonghwa dives between your legs like he’s been dying to breathe you in. He pushes your bikini bottoms to the side and when his mouth finally meets you?

It’s filthy.

A guttural groan leaves his throat the second his tongue makes contact. Dragging through your folds like he’s savoring a rare delicacy. Deep, slow, deliberate. He doesn’t just taste you; he devours. He laps at your cunt like a man starved, tongue dipping in and out with obscene precision, like he’s memorizing every part of you by feel.

Your hands shoot to the tile behind you, head falling back against the damp stone as your thighs instinctively try to close, but Seonghwa growls and grabs your thighs with a bruising grip, holding you wide open.

“Don’t hide from me,” he rasps, voice wrecked and wet. “You gave this to me. I’m gonna take all of it.”

He buries himself in you, face pressed so deep you can barely breathe from the feeling. His nose nudges your clit, tongue sliding through your soaked heat, and he groans into you like you’re feeding something dark in him. You feel the vibration all the way through your spine.

“Fuck, Seonghwa-” you gasp, your voice wrecked, barely above a whisper. “I- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” he growls, not even pausing. “You’re gonna fucking come for me, and then I’m gonna keep going. I wanna hear how beautiful you sound.”

His hands slip beneath your ass, dragging your body closer, tilting your hips so he can really taste you, and then his mouth locks on your clit.

And he doesn’t stop.

He sucks it between his lips like he’s addicted, swirling his tongue, then flattening it, then flicking fast and filthy until your legs are shaking, your moans are spilling uncontrolled, and your fingers are desperately gripping at his wet hair.

His eyes flick up to watch you come undone, and the look on his face is wild. His mouth is soaked, his jaw flexing with how hard he’s working you, but he doesn’t stop. Not when your thighs begin to tremble. Not when your voice breaks in a moan. Not even when you cum with a sob, practically screaming his name.

He pulls back slowly, lips glistening, eyes locked on you with nothing short of adoration and something far more possessive.

“That,” he pants, voice low and full of heat, “was fucking divine.”

You’re breathless, shaking, completely undone.

And he? He just smirks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his voice smug and dark as he stands in the water, towering over you. When he kisses you, it’s slow. Deep. His hand cradles the side of your face like you’re something breakable, even after what he just did to you.

You taste yourself on his tongue, but you don’t pull away.

You kiss him back harder.

Because it’s not just filthy.

It’s intimate.

“I’m lost for words.” You say, panting and trying your best to catch your breath.

He looks deep into your eyes with a smile and says; “And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

***

The smell of coffee drifts into the cabin bedroom before anything else.

You stretch beneath the soft duvet, your body still humming with the aftershocks of last night. Every inch of you feels different, warm, electric, awake in a way it hasn’t been in a long time. You roll over, expecting to see him there beside you, but the space is empty. Still warm.

And then you hear him in the kitchen. The low sound of a cupboard closing, a quiet curse when something clatters, the faint hum of music from his phone. It makes your heart flutter for no good reason at all, just the image of him out there, shirtless and half-awake, trying to make breakfast like it’s something you’ve always done together.

You wrap the sheets around yourself and pad out to the kitchen.

Sure enough, he’s standing by the stove in a pair of sweatpants, hair messy and damp from a quick shower, one hand stirring something in a pan while the other scrolls his phone, probably checking a recipe.

He glances up the second he senses you. And when he sees you still wrapped in his sheets, skin kissed with leftover waterline marks and sleep in your eyes, he grins. Slow, soft, too fond for someone who’s only seen you for a few weeks.

“Mmm,” he hums, eyes trailing over you. “That’s a good look on you.”

You smile, tugging the fabric a little tighter around your chest. “So is that,” you say, gesturing at the way the waistband of his pants rides low, revealing the curve of his V-line. He doesn’t even flinch at the comment, just raises an eyebrow, like he knows what he’s doing to you.

You walk over to him, slipping behind the counter and stealing a peek into the pan. “What are we making?”

“Scrambled eggs,” he says, “but I’m winging it.”

“Dangerous,” you tease. “Let me help.”

He moves aside without protest, but not without brushing against you as he does, his bare chest ghosting your shoulder, his hand resting briefly at the small of your back.

You make the eggs while he butters the toast. At some point, he leans in to steal a kiss at your temple. It’s sweet, until his fingers skim your hip beneath the sheet, slow and deliberate. You look up at him, your breath catching. His eyes are darker now, the atmosphere suddenly thick again.

“You keep looking at me like that,” you say quietly, “and I’ll burn the eggs.”

He only smirks. “Burn them, then.”

It doesn’t matter that you’re just making breakfast. Every second feels like foreplay. Eventually, you sit together at the kitchen island, knees brushing. He makes a show of complimenting your eggs, teasing you about how domestic this all is. The whole thing feels… too good. Too easy. And you’re both very aware of it.

At one point, he leans back in his chair and studies you, like he’s committing you to memory, like he wants to trace every line of your smile and lock it away.

“You’re different today,” he murmurs, voice soft.

You shrug, suddenly shy under his gaze. “So are you.”

He reaches over, thumb brushing your cheek. “In a good way?”

“In a really good way,” you say. And you mean it.

Because even with all the heat between you, even with how badly you want to climb onto his lap and pick up where last night left off, there’s something sweeter here, too.

Like maybe this isn’t just heat. Maybe it’s something more.

The day has been blissfully quiet, a perfect mix of soft sunlight streaming through the windows and the warm, fresh air of spring. After breakfast, you and Seonghwa take a slow walk down to the lake, the tension between you two still palpable, but there's a sense of ease too.

Later that afternoon, you played cards on the couch. He was terrible at it. Mostly because he couldn’t concentrate.

“I think you’re cheating,” he accused, narrowing his eyes at you.

“I think you’re a sore loser,” you shot back, grinning.

He lunged for your cards, and you yelped, scrambling away, laughing. He tackled you into the cushions and tickled your ribs until you screamed. Then everything shifted. Suddenly he was on top of you, your legs tangled with his. His breath fanned across your lips. His hands, once playful, were now still. Firm. Intentional.

He looked down at you like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted.

Then his voice dropped. “Kiss me.”

You did.

It wasn’t soft this time.

It was desperate.

His hands slid beneath your shirt, palms flat against your stomach, and you arched into him without thinking.

Your hips rocked.

His jaw clenched.

And just when it got too hot, when you were seconds away from completely unraveling again, you broke the kiss.

“Stop,” you whispered, breathless. “We can’t.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes shut tight. “I know. But god…”

You rolled onto your side, pulling him with you, your bodies still flush. “This is torture.”

“Sweetest kind,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder. “But I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

He always knew what to say.

The cabin is warm, the fire crackling quietly as you and Seonghwa lay tangled together on the couch. His arm is around your waist, your head tucked into the curve of his shoulder, both of you half-asleep, breathing in sync. The quiet, the closeness, it’s almost too good to be real. You feel his heartbeat under your cheek, steady and slow, and let your eyes drift shut.

Until your phone buzzes against the coffee table.

You freeze for a second, not wanting to move, but Seonghwa's arm loosens slightly. His eyes stay closed. Thinking he’s still asleep, you carefully slip away and pad into the kitchen, grabbing your phone.

When you see the caller ID, your stomach twist.

Husband.

You answer anyway, voice low. "Hey… yeah, I'm gone for the entire weekend..." You lean back against the counter, glancing over your shoulder at the couch. Seonghwa hadn’t moved. "Well, how was I supposed to know that you'd be home? You didn't tell me..." you said, trying to keep your voice neutral. Light.

Seonghwa opens his eyes, sitting up slowly. He rubs his hand over his face once before pushing himself off the couch and walking quietly toward the kitchen where he hear you talking. He stops in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame.

You don’t see him. You’re facing the counter, head bowed slightly, twirling the hem of your hoodie between your fingers as you talk.

"Alright... yeah... mhm..." Your voice is too polite. Too... detached.

He can tell it’s him.

Your husband.

Of course it is.

Seonghwa’s jaw clenches. He doesn’t want to hear it. Doesn’t want to be reminded. But he can’t tear himself away from the sight of you, standing there, trying to sound okay.

"Wait, really?" you say, surprise flickering in your tone. Seonghwa’s brow furrows. You give a soft laugh, but it doesn't reach your eyes.

"No, I'd love to, I just, yeah..." Another pause. Another sigh. "Alright... okay... have fun... love you..." you say softly, out of habit more than anything else. Seonghwa’s hands curl into fists at his sides.

You hang up and stand there for a second, phone still in your hand, like you need to collect yourself. When you finally turn around, you’re startled a little at the sight of him. Your mouth opens, maybe to explain, maybe to apologize, but Seonghwa shakes his head lightly. No need.

You tuck your phone into your hoodie pocket and give him a weak smile. "Husband" you say, voice almost too casual.

He doesn’t move, just tilts his head, waiting.

"He... he called to tell me about the upcoming company dinner," you say. "He wants me to go with him like last year."

For a moment, Seonghwa doesn’t respond. Just blinks at you slowly, processing. You see it, how he didn’t expect that. How it threw him off.

"He does?" he finally says, his voice low, unreadable.

You nod, hugging yourself a little. "Yeah. Guess he forgot to tell me before," you joke, trying to laugh it off. "He said it’ll look good if I’m there."

Seonghwa’s heart twisted.

Look good.

Not because he misses you. Not because he wants to share the evening with you. Because it will look good.

"She’s coming too, I’m imagining" you add, tossing it out like it doesn’t matter that your husband’s girlfriend would be in the same room as you. Like it doesn’t tear something inside you open.

Seonghwa’s jaw ticked.

You hurry to fill the silence. "It’s fine. I mean-, it’s not like I didn’t expect it, right? It's just a dinner. No big deal."

But it is a big deal. And you’re a terrible liar.

You keep rambling. "Honestly, it’s probably good. It might make it easier, or whatever. Seeing them in the same room together, maybe it’ll help me... you know, feel better about everything." Your laugh cracks at the edges. You tuck your hair behind your ear, blinking hard. A moment of silence spread between you, letting you mind do horrible things to you. “Can I ask you a question?” your voice is barely above a whisper.

His voice is soft, warm with understanding. “Always.”

You don’t mean to ask it, but it slips out anyway. “Do they look good together?”

Even Seonghwa seems caught off guard. He doesn’t answer, not with words. But the way his expression falters, the way his eyes search yours… it’s enough.

Regret hits instantly. You let out a dry laugh and shake your head. “Right. Stupid question. You can’t answer that.”

You rub your hand down your face, trying to gather yourself, trying to make it easier by asking again, differently. “Do they… act like a couple at work?”

He hesitates. Thinking. Choosing words that won’t hurt more than they have to.

“Not at first,” he says, his voice measured, careful. “It was… gradual. The kind of closeness people notice but don’t talk about.”

You exhale, eyes closing.

“I didn’t want to assume anything in the beginning,” he continues. “She’s friendly with a lot of people. And I try not to get involved in anything that doesn’t concern work.”

You nod. “But it was obvious.”

He pauses. “Enough that I… thought he might’ve been single.”

Something sinks inside you, cold and heavy.

“No ring. No mention of you. He brought her to a few events at work. I didn’t ask questions.”

You swallow, not sure what hurts more. The confirmation, that he doesn’t wear his ring outside anymore or the fact that it makes sense. Of course he would act single at work. That’s part of his charm.

Seonghwa’s expression is gentle, eyes scanning yours like he’s checking for fractures he can’t see.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t want to upset you. If this is too much-”

“No,” you interrupt, voice thin. “I asked. I want to know. I need to.” You stand in silence for a beat, and then you murmur with a broken smile, “But it’s fine. It’s all fine.”

"You don't have to pretend with me," Seonghwa murmured.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. Trying not to let the kindness in his voice shatter you completely.

"I'm fine," you whispered.

Seonghwa watches you from across the kitchen. You’re smiling, but he knows better. He sees the way your shoulders curl inward, the way your eyes won’t quite meet his.

"You’re not," he says, just as soft. "And that’s okay."

You glance up, startled, but before you can form a response, he moves toward you, not fast, not forceful, just steady. His hands find your hips with gentle certainty, and he lifts you with ease, setting you down on the counter as if you’re something precious, not breakable.

"Seonghwa-" you start, breathless.

But he’s already there, grounding you. One hand settles gently on your thigh, the other brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. His forehead touches yours, and he just breathes with you for a moment. He stays close but doesn’t move further. His forehead drops lightly to yours, his palms warm against your thighs.

"Look at me," he says, voice low, like he’s scared to spook you. His voice is soft but sure. "I don’t want you pretending you’re fine around me." He leans in. "You feel whatever you need to feel," he murmur, voice thick with emotion, “I’m here. I’ll hold you through it. For as long as it takes.”

Your fingers tremble as they clutch at the fabric of his shirt. Your voice is just a whisper. “I don’t want to fall apart.”

“Then don’t,” he says gently. “Just lean. I’ll catch the rest.”

You make a soft, broken sound before you can stop yourself. He kisses you, slow, deep, devastating. Not just because he wants you. Because he adores you.

He breaks the kiss only to press a featherlight one to your cheek. Then your jaw. Then the corner of your mouth. Each one slower than the last, reverent, like he’s tracing the pieces of you he’s afraid might slip away.

"You want me to take your mind off it?" His mouth brushes just beneath your ear, not suggestive, not rushed, just offering.

You blink at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Only if you want to," he murmurs. "Only if you need it."

You nod before you could second-guess yourself, fingers curling into his shirt.

"I want you," you breathe.

Relief floods his features, softening the tension in his jaw. He kisses you like he had all the time in the world to love every part of you. His hands slide up your sides, mapping you like a man learning his favorite song by heart. He kisses the corner of your mouth, your jawline, the shell of your ear, soft, worshipful kisses that leave your skin burning.

"You’re everything," he whispers, pressing his lips to your throat. "You don't even see it, do you?" He kisses a path lower, murmuring against your skin, his hands skimming down your sides to the waistband of your leggings.

He pauses, looking up at you again.

You nod, heart hammering.

Slowly, carefully, he peels them down, helping you kick them away. His palms roams back up your bare thighs, rough and warm.

His fingers trace along the seam of your underwear, teasing the edges, making you squirm. He drags a single finger up the center. Slow and deliberate, feeling the heat of you through the fabric.

"So fucking soft," he mutters under his breath, almost reverent. When he finally eases your panties to the side and slid two fingers through your folds, he curses under his breath. "Fuck," he groans, forehead falling against your shoulder. "You’re gonna ruin me."

He kisses your throat, your collarbone, the dip of your neck, worshiping every inch of you while his fingers find your clit, stroking it slowly and carefully. Drawing circles, light and teasing at first, just to feel you shake.

You whimper, your hips jerking toward his hand, desperate for more.

He smiles against your skin.

"Patience, my love," he whispers. "I wanna savor you."

A slow, steady glide of his fingers, spreading your wetness, pressing a little deeper. You whimper, hips twitching, and he kisses you again, swallowing every sound like he can’t get enough of you. One finger slides inside you, stretching you deliciously, the heel of his hand rubbing steady against your clit. He moves carefully, gently, but there is a hunger beneath it.

"You have no idea how good you feel," he whispers against your throat, his voice breaking.

Another finger presses in, a little rougher this time, and your mouth falls open in a gasp, and he kisses it, swallowing every sound. He starts a slow rhythm, steady, deliberate thrusts of his fingers, curling just right, dragging sweet friction along your walls. The wet sounds fill the kitchen, obscene and beautiful.

Your head drops back, a soft moan escaping you, and he kisses your throat, licks at your pulse, holding you steady as your body starts to tremble. His fingers work deeper, faster, rougher but never cruel, like he wanted to drag every ounce of pleasure from you, like he needed to prove to you what you deserved.

You whimper, rolling your hips into his hand. He groans low in his throat, as if the pleasure you’re feeling feeds his own.

"That's it," he whispers, pressing kisses along your cheek, your temple. "Take what you need, baby. I’m right here."

He presses his thumb against your clit again, this time firmer, drawing slow, perfect circles as his fingers thrust deeper inside you. Your hands clutches at his shoulders, digging into his muscles, and he lets out a low moan, loving the way you hold onto him.

"That’s it," he says, kissing your ear. "Let go for me, baby. Give it to me."

You can’t hold it anymore. When he angles his fingers just a little differently, brushing against that devastating spot inside you, it breaks you.

Your orgasm builds like a tidal wave, overwhelming and sharp, and when it finally hits, you sob his name, shaking violently against him. He keeps fucking you with his fingers, milking every last drop of pleasure from your body, kissing you desperately the whole time.

"You’re fucking perfect," he whispers between kisses, voice raw with it.

He slowly eases his fingers out of you, kissing you breathless while his hands smoothed up and down your thighs to soothe the tremors. He doesn’t rush it, doesn’t push for anything more.

He just kisses you, adores you, holds you like you were the only thing in his world. "You’re mine here," he murmurs, voice rough, mouth hot against your skin. "Only mine."

The world outside the cabin didn’t exist anymore. No husband. No company dinner. No expectations. Just Seonghwa, tasting you, touching you, worshiping you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

And you can’t get enough of him.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of soft touches and easy laughter. You don’t talk about anything serious, don’t need to. Instead, you lounge together on the couch, stealing lazy kisses. You walk barefoot through the woods behind the cabin, the air fresh and cool, your hand tucked tightly into his. When night falls, you both end up tangled under a blanket by the fire, the room warm and golden, his heartbeat steady against your ear.

Eventually, sleep starts pulling at you.

"Come on," he murmurs against your hair. "Bedtime."

You let him lead you to the bedroom, too tired and too comfortable to protest. You don’t even bother changing, you just collapse onto the bed, pulling the covers up with a small, content sigh. Seonghwa climbs in beside you, and the moment you feel the mattress dip under his weight, you shift closer instinctively, pressing your body against his chest, your head tucked beneath his chin.

He wraps his arms around you tightly (maybe tighter than he should have) but you only sigh again, relaxed and trusting in his hold. And within minutes, you’re asleep.

But Seonghwa isn’t.

He stays awake, eyes tracing the shape of your face in the dim moonlight seeping through the window. You look so soft, so beautiful, your mouth slightly parted, your brow relaxed. You have no idea. No idea what you’re doing to him. How badly he want to freeze this moment, to stay like this forever.

His fingers brush your back slowly, barely there, memorizing the feel of you. He can smell your shampoo, the faint sweetness of your skin.

You aren’t his. You’re married. Tied to a life he can’t touch, no matter how much he wants to. And he wants to. God, he wants to. He wants to steal you away, keep you tucked against him like this, safe and warm, without the weight of your sadness, without the ache of your pretending.

But he can’t.

He isn’t your husband. He isn’t your first choice. Maybe he will never be.

So he just holds you closer, selfishly. Just for tonight.

He whispers your name against your hair, so quietly you can’t hear it. He presses a kiss to your forehead, letting it linger far longer than he should have.

And when his chest tightens painfully with everything he can’t say, he closes his eyes and buries his face in your hair, breathing you in like he can keep a part of you with him, even when you eventually slip away.

Because deep down, Seonghwa already knows: You aren’t his to keep.

But he would love you. Quietly, carefully, hopelessly, for as long as he’s allowed.

***

Real life came back like a wave crashing onto the sand. By Monday morning, the cabin already felt like a dream. Something you both clung to a little too long before the world tugged it from your fingers. There were alarms again. Meetings. Responsibilities. But still, he stayed. In every little way he could.

The following week became a quiet dance of stolen moments. Texts during the day, sometimes silly, sometimes tender. Late-night calls that stretched until one of you fell asleep mid-sentence. A few visits squeezed between everything else, a lunch together, a surprise appearance at your door when you least expected it. You lived in your separate worlds, but threads kept tying you back together, weaving something stronger, even if neither of you dared name it yet.

It’s Thursday afternoon when Seonghwa shows up at your work, two iced coffees in hand. He didn’t tell you he was coming. He just wants to see you.

Standing in the lobby, he catches a sight of you through the glass doors. You’re at the front desk, clipboard in hand, speaking to a group of junior employees. Except you aren’t just speaking. You’re commanding - calm, polite, but firm enough that everyone was standing straighter under your gaze.

"No, the Peterson file needs to be signed by the end of day, not tomorrow," you say firmly to one employee, then turn to another. "And double-check the Johnson numbers. I’m not sending anything out with mistakes." There’s no edge to your voice, just clear, confident authority. You’re the kind of person who expects things to get done right, and people respect you for it.

The group nodded quickly before scurrying off. You look completely in control, completely at ease, and it hits Seonghwa in a way he isn’t prepared for.

He shifts his weight, adjusting the cups in his hands, feeling the low, slow burn start in his stomach. Watching you like this; confident, a little strict, completely unbothered. It made something hot and possessive stir in his chest.

Fuck, he thought, you have no idea what you’re doing to me.

Finally, you notice him. You turn, blinking in surprise before your face lights up in a smile.

You cross the floor towards him, walk through the glass doors, your expression softening in a way that made it even harder for him to stay composed. "You," you say, stopping in front of him, a breathless little laugh escaping, "are not supposed to be here."

"Couldn't help myself," he says, offering you one of the coffees. His fingers brush yours, and it’s ridiculous how much even that made his chest tighten. "You looked like you needed rescuing."

You laugh again, bumping your shoulder lightly into his. "Thanks," you say, sipping your drink with a low, satisfied sigh that just about broke him. "Seriously. Today’s been hell."

He stares at you for a second longer than necessary. "You’re killing it, though. Watching you just now..." He lets the words trail off, his voice dipping a little lower, his eyes dragging down to your mouth before flicking back up. "You’re very…" His voice trails off, then he gives a quiet chuckle. "Efficient."

But the way he says it, the way his jaw tightens just slightly, makes it very clear that isn’t the word he is thinking.

You cock your head innocently. "You okay there?"

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. "I'm fine. Perfect." Only he doesn’t look perfect at all.

And you definitely notice.

You sip your coffee, pretending not to see the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long. You smile sweetly. "You sure? You look a little… tense."

His mouth twitches, something dangerous flashing in his eyes. But he only hums low in his throat and says, "Busy morning." His hand tightens around his own cup for a second before he quickly hides it behind a sip.

You turn and walk away, tossing a look over your shoulder like a lure. And sure enough, Seonghwa follows. He catches up to you just as you slip through a doorway into a smaller side room, deserted this time of day.

"You shouldn't," he says, shutting the door behind him.

"Shouldn't what?" you ask, wide-eyed and fake-innocent.

"Shouldn’t look at me like that." His voice is already cracking at the edges, walking slowly towards you with dark eyes. "Shouldn't tempt me when you know exactly what you're doing."

You shrug, looking up at him like he’s speaking nonsense. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." you whisper, all wide eyes and fake innocence. You lean up, slightly tip-toeing to place the softest kiss on his lips, barely even touching him.

You smile against his mouth, slow and deliberate, feeling how tense every muscle in his body is like he’s fighting an invisible war.

“Poor thing,” you whisper teasingly, dragging your fingers lightly up his chest, feeling the way his heart slams against his ribs. “You looked so composed out there. All that self-control…”

Seonghwa lets out a low, broken sound when you roll your hips slowly against him, barely brushing where he’s hardest. His head falls back in agony, but he doesn’t touch you yet. Can’t. If he did, he knows he’d lose it.

“Don’t test me,” he grounds out, voice a low warning, but there’s no real threat behind it. Only desperation.

His breath hitches hard, his hands finally snapping up to catch your wrists and pin them lightly against the wall above your head, firm, not rough.

His mouth crashes into yours, messy and starving, hands still holding your wrists pinned. Every movement is frantic and tender all at once, like he’s trying to show you what you do to him without crossing the line.

But somehow, he pulls back. Chest heaving. Heart pounding.

"I can't," he whispers, like it physically hurts him. "You deserve better than me losing my mind over you in some office." Seonghwa lets go of your wrists and brushes your hair back, his hands gentle now, lingering, almost reverent.

"You’re gonna be the death of me," he whispers, finally pulling back just enough to look at you properly. "I should…" he starts, voice hoarse, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I should get back soon. I have some meetings to prepare for."

You nod, pretending to sip your coffee again, trying to ignore how hard your heart is hammering against your ribs.

“So... the company dinner is on Saturday,” you say, your voice casual, but he could sense the slight tension behind your words. “I guess I’ll see you there.”

His lips quirkes in a soft smile, but his eyes stay gentle. "Yeah, I’ll see you there." He pauses for a moment, letting the silence linger between you two, before he adds, "But, I know it’s not going to be easy for you. I’ll be here, it’s up to you when you need me, yeah?”

You nod, the simple reassurance settling somewhere deep inside.

“You’ll handle it like you always do,” he says, his voice almost like a promise. “Just…” He pauses, his words weighing a little heavier now. “If you need to talk or vent or even just distract yourself, I’m not going anywhere.”

You can feel the sincerity in his words, and for a brief moment, you allow yourself to lean into them, feeling that small spark of comfort. But you also knew that Saturday will come with its own set of challenges, ones neither of you can ignore.

“Thank you,” you say softly, “I’ll look forward to seeing you.”

Seonghwa hesitates before a small smile plays on his lips. “Can’t wait to see you.” He leaves a soft kiss on your lips before you both leave the room.

Seonghwa steps out of the building, his fingers curling into fists at his sides as the cool spring air hits him. He takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head, but all he can see is the way you looked at him in that small room. The way your eyes darkened, how your lips parted ever so slightly like you were daring him to lose control.

He doesn’t know how he’s going to make it through the weekend. Saturday was going to be fucking torture.

Seonghwa steps into the elevator, the cold glass walls reflecting his composed expression as the doors close with a soft chime. As the elevator descends, the doors suddenly open on the floor above, and in walks your husband.

The man who had promised to love and protect you, who had chosen to disregard you for the company of another woman. Seonghwa’s jaw tightens.

He could see right through your husband and his intentions. Why he wanted to open up your marriage. Why he convinced you seeing other people was a good idea. He was doing this for no one but himself. He didn’t care about your future together, he just wanted to screw around without feeling guilty.

Your husband’s smile is too wide, a little too confident.

"Mr. Park," your husband says, his smile a little too smug for Seonghwa’s liking. "It’s been a while."

Seonghwa nods curtly, his lips twisting into a polite, controlled smile. "Yes, it has."

The elevator jolts briefly as it continues its descent, and Seonghwa can feel the tension building between them, unspoken but thick in the air. Your husband isn’t aware, of course. He’s too wrapped up in his own world, too comfortable in his position.

"Have you been well lately?" the husband says, his voice slightly offhand but probing. "I haven’t seen you much."

Seonghwa can’t help but smirk. He can’t help but think of the way you call his name so desperately, the way your body responds to his every touch.

Instead of responding directly to that comment, Seonghwa lets a small, knowing smile flicker across his lips. "I’ve been preoccupied," he says smoothly, his voice low. "Had a lot on my hands."

The elevator jerks slightly, making the conversation shift just a little.

With a cool smile, Seonghwa turns toward him, his tone dripping with polite curiosity. “So, are you bringing your wife to the company dinner on Saturday?”

Your husband looks at him with a raised brow, clearly not realizing how pointed the question is. “Of course, I think she could use some time out of the house,” He gives a smug little chuckle, clearly feeling proud of himself. “My wife’s always at home,” he repeats like it was some inside joke. “I think I owe her to spend some time with her..”

Seonghwa fights back the grimace forming on his face. The way your husband speaks about you like a joke, a thing to be handled or dealt with. Seonghwa can’t stand it.

He takes a deep breath, his hands casually resting at his sides as he turns his gaze back toward your husband, locking eyes. “Right,” Seonghwa says, his voice steady, controlled, almost too polite. “I’m sure she’ll be a sight to see.”

As the elevator doors open to Seonghwa’s floor, he takes one last glance at your husband. “I’ll see you at the dinner,” Seonghwa says, his words cold, his expression cool as he steps out.

The husband nods. “See you then, Mr. Park.”

But as the elevator doors closed behind him, Seonghwa’s mind was already back on you. On how you moan his name in the quiet of the cabin, how you came undone beneath his touch. He wonders if your husband has ever been able to make you feel that way.

Seonghwa knew the answer.

***

The ballroom is already alive with chatter and the clink of glasses when you arrive. You hold onto your husband's arm, letting him guide you through the doors, even as your stomach twisted itself into knots.

The room is elegant, bathed in warm lights that bounced off the champagne flutes and silverware. Laughter rises from different corners, easy and polished. You pass on your best smile, falling into the practiced rhythm of it all.

You mingle for a while, polite small talk with your husband's coworkers, nodding along as he introduces you around. It’s almost easy, almost. You let him guide you in, your heels clicking over the marble floors, the soft hum of chatter rising around you like a tide.

You smile easily when necessary, playing your part, his polished, perfect wife. But the second you feel a shift in the air, you know. You don’t have to look to know Seonghwa has arrived.

When you finally let yourself look, there he is. Seonghwa moves through the crowd like he owns it. His black suit is perfectly tailored, the crisp white shirt underneath open just enough at the collar to suggest he isn’t as buttoned-up as he pretends to be. His hair, artfully tousled, is just messy enough to hint at how easily he can come undone.

Your breath stutters. He’s all sharp lines and quiet fire, heartbreakingly beautiful, dangerous in the best way.

You watch him, barely breathing, as he slips through clusters of people, smiling, exchanging greetings. Until his eyes finds yours.

A second, no more. But it’s enough.

Heat licks up your spine.

You look away first, pretending to adjust the strap of your dress on your shoulder, willing the blush crawling up your neck to stay hidden. It doesn’t matter. You can still feel him watching you.

You mingle for a few more minutes, caught in some lazy conversation about vacation homes and quarterly reports, when you feel another ripple, closer now.

Seonghwa is joining your circle.

"Mr. Park!" one of the men says warmly, reaching to clap him on the back. "Glad you made it."

Seonghwa offers a practiced smile, but when his gaze slides briefly to you again, it softens. Just a fraction, before he tucks it away.

Professional. Perfect. Lethal.

Your husband, oblivious, tugs you a little closer against his side, his hand slips familiarly over your hip.

"Babe," he says, smiling, "you remember my boss, Park Seonghwa?"

You turn, offering a smile so polite it feels like a mask. "Of course," you say lightly, extending your hand. "We met at last year’s dinner."

Seonghwa’s fingers close around yours, warm and steady. But his thumb drifts, just barely, over your knuckles. It’s the softest touch, fleeting enough to pass for nothing.

But you feel it. And he knows you do.

"I remember," he says, voice even, with just the faintest undertone that makes something low in your belly tighten. “Nice to see you again.”

He steps back politely, turning to engage someone else in conversation, and you pretend to listen in as well, nodding where appropriate. It’s almost effortless, this performance you’ve both slipped into, two people with nothing in common but a forgettable introduction at a company event. Except for the way your body is suddenly too aware of his presence. The faint scent of his cologne. The way his shoulder moves when he shifts. The tiniest curve of a smile when he senses you glance his way.

You try to be distant. Be in the moment with your husband. View Seonghwa as a polite acquaintance. But your skin tingles. Your body betrays you.

Because when you're alone with Seonghwa, there's nothing careful about him. When it’s just the two of you, he doesn’t look at you like this, distant, indifferent. He looks at you like you’re the only thing that exists. His hands aren’t steady and restrained; they’re greedy, reverent. When he touches you, it’s with purpose, with heat, with worship. He traces your collarbone with his mouth like it's a map he’s memorized. He drags his lips down your spine like he’s praying. His voice isn't calm then. It's wrecked. Raw. And it’s only for you.

The memory makes your thighs shift, pressing together subtly. You blink yourself back to the moment as he turns away to greet someone else, perfectly composed. A phantom smile plays at his lips like he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

Then your husband shifts beside you again, dragging you in closer, thumb making small, familiar circles against your hip. Your spine straightens slightly, not from discomfort, but from how sharply aware you are of Seonghwa’s eyes flickering in your direction. Just for a second. Controlled, unreadable. But you know him now, too well, and you catch the subtle set of his jaw, the way his breath comes slower, steadier, like he’s keeping something under control.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t react. He nods at the right times, smiles when expected. But there’s something charged beneath his calm exterior. A restraint that hums quietly under every breath you both take.

No one else notices. But you do. And he knows you do.

You barely survived the first ten minutes. And the night had only just begun.

You and your husband move through the crowd, chatting idly with some of his colleagues. It's polite, surface-level stuff, nothing that makes your heart beat faster. Your eyes keep darting to Seonghwa, who is now across the room, talking to a group of people. But it's your husband who finally draws your attention back to the situation at hand.

His voice breaks through your thoughts, an edge of casualness you don’t quite trust.

“Oh, and this is… well, you probably know her already.” He gestures towards the woman beside him, who flashes a smile that you can’t help but feel is too bright, too rehearsed.

Her. His girlfriend.

Your husband’s words hover in the air, unspoken but clear, as though it’s just a natural thing. "My girlfriend". But he doesn’t need to say it for you to understand. He doesn’t need to make it official when the meaning is already obvious in his tone, the way his hand rests a little too possessively on her lower back.

She’s taller, prettier than you would have imagined, and the first thing you notice is the way she’s looking at him. The adoration, the way her eyes soften. You feel a tug in your chest, a quiet pain that you try to ignore. But it’s there. It’s always there.

She extends a hand, and you take it, forcing a smile. "Nice to meet you." you say.

Her grip is firm. She’s confident. She’s everything your husband seems to want right now.

"Of course. I’ve heard so much about you," she says, the words warm, but the slight edge makes your stomach churn. She looks at your husband with a teasing glint in her eye, but you notice how her gaze flickers toward you, assessing.

As they stand there, chatting, you feel the smallest stir of discomfort in your chest. You want to look away, but you can’t. And maybe you’re just imagining it, but it feels like Seonghwa is watching you from across the room, his eyes fixed on you like he can sense the unease in the air.

Just as you're lost in the tension building between you, a voice calls out from behind. It's one of your husband's colleagues, reminding everyone to take their seats for dinner. As you take your seat, you instinctively glance around, seeking any form of solace in the crowd. And then, your phone buzzes in your bag, breaking through the fog of discomfort in an instant.

You glance down at the screen, your heart skipping a beat when you see the familiar name.

Seonghwa: Are you okay?

The simplicity of his message stirs something in you. Just seeing those words, knowing he's thinking of you, makes the tightness in your chest ease, just for a moment. You take a deep breath, heart hammering in your chest, but you can't help but smile at the message.

You: I'm fine. Just a little distracted.

It’s not a lie, but it’s not the full truth either. There’s a part of you that wishes you could confide more, tell him exactly what’s running through your mind, but you hold back, not wanting to let everything spill out in a text.

Just as you're about to lock your phone and tuck it away, the screen flashes with a new message from him.

Seonghwa: I’m here if you need me. Don’t forget that. ❤️

Seonghwa isn’t placed near you. Of course not. He is several tables over, seated with executives and higher-ups. But you can feel him. God, you can feel him across the room like a second heartbeat.

You catch his eyes once, mid-conversation, and it’s like the air thickens between you. His gaze dips for a split second, dragging over you before lifting again, back to his polished, unreadable facade.

You quickly look away, cheeks burning.

Dinner is served. Conversation at your table buzzing with casual energy: talk about vacations, investment portfolios, harmless gossip about coworkers. Your husband is in his element, laughing too loud, talking to a specific woman close to him and pouring more wine into his glass than he probably should.

Meanwhile, you barely hear a word.

You pick at your food, your appetite gone. Across the room, you feel the weight of his stare.

When you risk another glance, he’s watching you again. His fingers drumming lightly against the side of his glass, a slow, restless rhythm. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip as he listens to the person next to him, eyes still locked on you.

Your husband nudges you, laughing about something you hadn’t caught. You give a small, polite smile, pretending to sip your wine.

The night drags on. Courses are served. Toasts are made. The CEO stands up to make a long speech about company growth, partnership, community, all the usual talking points. You clap when appropriate. You smile when you should. But the only thing you feel is the pull.

The memory of Seonghwa. The way he looks at you across the room like he’s already planning exactly how he’d have you again the moment he can. You toy with the stem of your wineglass, letting yourself imagine, just for a second, what it would be like to slip away from this table, to find him in some quiet corner, to let him catch you.

When dessert was finally cleared and the crowd began to loosen with alcohol and relief, you catch Seonghwa rising from his table, jacket slinging lazily over one shoulder as he excused himself.

He gives you a glance. A very telling glance.

You know. You know he is giving you the chance to follow.

Your heart hammers wildly against your ribs. Your husband is mid-conversation with someone else, not even glancing your way. You set your napkin down on the table, slow and careful, pretending to smooth your dress as you stand.

You move carefully, pretending to head toward the restrooms like you had a dozen other times at events like this. No one pays you any mind. Not even your husband, still busy with a drink in his hand and a story on his lips.

But you aren’t going to the restroom.

You slip through the crowd, heart thudding so hard you can barely hear the noise around you. Your heels click softly against the polished floors as you follow the path Seonghwa has taken. Down a quiet hall. Past the coat closet. Around a corner, where the light dimmed and the buzz of the party fades into the background.

And there he is.

Waiting. Like he knew you would come to him.

He stands with his jacket slung over one shoulder, dress shirt immaculate, tie slightly loosened at the throat like he’s only barely containing himself. But it’s his eyes that stops you.

Dark. Starving. Fixed entirely, absolutely, on you.

God, the way he looks at you.

Like you’re some kind of forbidden miracle.

You can see his throat work as he swallows hard, his hand tightening slightly on the jacket. His gaze trails down your body like he couldn’t help it. From your shining eyes to your lips, to the delicate line of your neck, the curve of your waist in that dress that fit you like a secret made just for him.

“You’re too beautiful,” Seonghwa says under his breath, almost like it hurts him.

You step closer, heart hammering against your ribs.

"You shouldn't have left," you whisper.

He gives a low, ragged laugh. "And you shouldn't have followed."

Finally talking to him after hours of pretending, after meeting your husband's girlfriend, you finally feet like you can breathe.

A door clicks somewhere nearby and you’re startled. Seonghwa reacts faster, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the nearest door. The small conference room is empty, dim, quiet except for your heavy breathing. He closes the door behind you both, and you stand frozen in the center of the room, trembling, watching the muscles flex in his jaw.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he whispers, voice rough, almost pained.

Slowly, Seonghwa pushes off the door and approaches you, each step measured but strained, like he’s holding himself back with everything he has.

You lifted your chin slightly, daring him. You can feel it, feel the moment his control cracks. One hand reached up, brushing a lock of hair from your face with agonizing care. His fingers trail down the side of your throat, featherlight, barely touching. You shiver.

"You look like this..." His voice broke. "And you expect me to walk away?"

You smile, sweet and dangerous, tilting your head so his fingers could touch more.

It wrecks him.

With a growl low in his chest, Seonghwa cups your face and kisses you, finally. The kiss hungry and aching and furious all at once. Your hands clutch at his shirt, feeling the hard line of his chest beneath. His hips pins you against the conference table behind you, but he still keeps it controlled. Barely.

He kisses down your jaw, the column of your neck, breathing hard.

"Say the word," he rasp into your skin. "Tell me to stop."

You don’t.

You whimper instead and his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you easily onto the heavy table in the center of the room. The second you’re perched on the edge, he stepped between your spread legs, crowding into your space.

You cling to him, kissing him back with just as much desperation. But then you feel it: the thick, heavy press of him against your thigh, straining against his pants. You pull back just enough to look down.

The outline of him is huge and thick and impossibly hard, the shape of his cock straining at the zipper. So tempting it made your mouth go dry. You stare for a heartbeat too long, your breath catching.

"Sweetheart," he breathes, almost warningly, but you lift your hand before he can stop you and palms him through his pants. Seonghwa chokes on a moan.

"You're so hard," you whisper, in awe. "You always take care of me," you say softly, your hand stroking him slowly, feeling how big, how impossibly hard he is for you.

"Fuck," he groans, hips jerking slightly into your hand before he catches himself, caging you against the table with his body. "You're going to kill me."

You smile a little, emboldened by how wrecked he sounds, and kiss the side of his head tenderly.

"Let me make you feel good," you murmur against his hairline.

For a moment, it seems like he might resist, like he might be too strong. But then your fingers give a slightly firmer stroke, and Seonghwa whimpers against your throat, a raw, broken sound he can’t hold back.

You slide the zipper down carefully and push his pants down just enough.

Your breath hitches.

Seonghwa is thick, his cock straining hard against the black fabric of his briefs. A wet patch already darkening the front where he’s leaking for you.

You brush your knuckles up the length of him, feeling how hot and real he is under the thin barrier. Seonghwa’s head tips back, his throat working around a broken moan. Emboldened, aching for him, you slide your fingers under the waistband and free him. His cock springs out into your hand. Flushed deep red at the tip, thick veins running down the heavy shaft, already leaking beads of clear precum that drips onto your fingers.

You barely manage to wrap your hand around him, he’s so thick your fingers don’t even meet. Seonghwa curses under his breath, his hips twitching forward into your hand.

"Fuck, baby," he pants, watching you through half-lidded eyes, "look what you do to me."

You give a shy, wicked smile and stroke him slowly from base to tip, feeling the way he jerks in your palm. So sensitive, so desperate.

But you want more than just to touch him. You shift on the table, spreading your thighs wider.

The wet heat between your legs was unbearable. Your panties completely soaked, sticking to every contour of your cunt, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Slowly, deliberately, you use the head of his cock to brush against your clothed folds. He hiss between his teeth as you guide him, dragging the swollen tip up and down your slit, the slick heat of you soaking through the thin barrier of lace. The contrast of the rough, leaking tip against your swollen clit made you gasp, hips bucking up into him.

Seonghwa's fingers dug into the table, muscles straining, trying so hard not to just lose control and shove into you.

"You’re so fucking wet," he groan, his voice wrecked. "I can feel it through the fabric. God, you’re ready for me, aren’t you, my love?"

You nod, breathless, rocking your hips forward so his cock slid along the seam of your panties, right over your aching clit. Every pass made your head spin.

And then, without warning, he shifts his hips, pressing the swollen head of his cock right against your entrance.

You gasp, clutching at his shoulders.

He pushes forward just a fraction, just enough to feel the desperate clench of your body trying to pull him in, but the soaked fabric of your panties holds him back, stopping him from sinking inside. It’s so hot, so thick, stretching you in ways you’ve never felt before, and he hasn’t even really entered yet.

"Fuck," he whispers harshly, grinding himself against your entrance with slow, dangerous rolls of his hips. "You’re gonna feel so fucking good wrapped around me."

Your panties stretched taut between you, the thin barrier rubbing against your clit, your folds, trapping the thick heat of him perfectly against your neediest parts.

"You want me to tear these off and fuck you right now, don't you?" he rasp, voice wrecked with restraint. "God, I could just push a little harder, you'd open up for me so easily."

As if to prove it, he gave a slow, brutal grind of his hips, pushing the thick, leaking head of his cock right against your entrance. So firm, so hot, you could feel yourself clenching down around nothing as you moan.

"Feel that?" he murmurs against your ear, lips brushing your skin. "One more inch, baby. One fucking inch, and I'd be inside you. Filling you so deep."

You sob his name, grinding helplessly against him, the rough drag of his cock against your panties and your throbbing clit driving you insane.

Seonghwa chuckles darkly, drunk on the sight of you falling apart for him. "You like teasing yourself with it, don't you? Feel how fucking hard I am for you?"

He rocks his hips again, pressing his entire length against you, up and down, letting the thick vein along his shaft rub right over your most sensitive spot.

"You're gonna cum just like this, aren't you?" he whispered roughly.

Seonghwa groans, thrusting against you with a little more force, letting the fat tip of his cock push the fabric deep between your folds, rubbing, pressing, teasing your clit. He pressed the tip of his cock against your panties again, and this time, he hooked a finger under the soaked fabric, dragging it aside.

You gasped, because now there was nothing between you.

Seonghwa’s cock slid along your bare, dripping folds, dragging over your clit with slow, devastating precision.

But the angle, the filthy rub of him dragging along your clit, your folds, almost pushing inside. It was dangerous. It would take nothing, nothing, for him to slam forward and bury himself balls-deep inside you.

"God, sweetheart, you feel so fucking good," he growled, rubbing the swollen, leaking head of his cock directly against your clit in slow, devastating circles. "I could just, fuck-, I could slide inside you so easy right now. Fill you up so deep you'd feel me for days."

Your thighs tremble on either side of him. He moves his hips, grinding his cockhead against your clit, dragging it up and down, side to side, filthy and raw.

"You want that, don’t you?" he whispers harshly. "You want me to split you open on this fucking table?"

But you knew you couldn’t let it happen like this. You were already dangerously close to crossing every line. You whimper, grabbing the edge of the table to stay upright, hips bucking helplessly.

"That's it," Seonghwa growles, voice dark and hungry, his cock dragging sloppily against you. "Grind on me, baby. Rub that pretty little pussy on my cock. Fuck, you feel so good."

Your thighs are trembling, muscles locking up as the rough head of him keeps hitting your clit perfectly, again and again, the thick veins of his shaft dragging over your folds, your entrance.

The noises between you are filthy, slick, messy, obscene.

You gasp, trying to pull away, scared to come and make a mess, make too much noice from this room, but Seonghwa grabs your hips and pins you against him, forcing you to take every devastating drag of his cock.

"Don't fucking run from it," he hisses against your ear. "Take it. I want you to come all over my cock, baby."

Your body locked up, and with a strangled moan, you came, hard and messy, soaking him, soaking your panties, soaking the fucking table. You cry out, clenching around nothing, hips jerking helplessly as your orgasm rip through you.

"That's it," he murmur, watching you fall apart. "Good girl. Such a good girl for me." Seonghwa hisses through his teeth, his cock twitching against you.

"You look so fucking beautiful when you cum," he buries his face against your neck, trembling with restraint. You can feel how close he is, his cock throbbing, his breathing ragged, his hips jerking forward in little, helpless thrusts against your slick center.

But then, you feel it.

The wet heat gathering against your panties, dangerously close to making a mess neither of you would be able to explain. Panic flares, but so does something brave, bold, utterly wicked inside you. Before Seonghwa can react, you slide off the table and drop to your knees in front of him.

"Fuck-, baby, what are you-"

He chokes on his words as you wrap your hand around him, guiding his slick, throbbing cock to your mouth. Seonghwa slaps a hand against the table, a broken, wrecked groan tearing from his throat as you close your lips around him.

"Jesus-, fuck," he gasp, his whole body trembling violently.

You look up at him through your lashes, hollowing your cheeks around him, and the sight makes him come undone. With a low, guttural groan, Seonghwa spills into your mouth, hot and salty and desperate. You swallow every drop.

When you finally let him go with a soft pop, Seonghwa stares down at you, eyes black with lust, lips parted, chest heaving.

Seonghwa watches you straighten up, his gaze flicking to your lips as you wipe them, the corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. There’s a spark of admiration in his eyes, mixed with something darker that he can’t hide.

“Wow, ” he murmurs, more to himself than to you, his voice rough with a hint of surprise. He takes a step closer, his tone softer but no less impressed. “That was… hot.”

Seonghwa’s gaze lingers on you, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he notices your slightly flushed cheeks, the warmth of the moment still hanging in the air. He could hardly believe how effortlessly you turned everything around, and the look of awe in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed.

Without saying another word, he cups your face gently, his thumb brushing over your lips as if he can’t resist. His touch is tender, a stark contrast to the intensity of what just happened. Slowly, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a soft kiss. The kiss is a promise, an unspoken understanding that this isn’t over, that there’s so much more to explore between the two of you.

As he pulls away just enough to look at you, he whispers, “Thank God for loopholes.” He pulls back, his eyes lingering on you with admiration, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“I’m gonna tell him tomorrow,” You say, finally being ready to tell your husband about you dating Seonghwa, his boss, knowing he’ll be home then. “I’m going to tell my husband about you,” you say, softer now. “About us.”

You don’t say why. You don’t need to. Because you both know why you’ve been holding back saying it, and you both know how desperate you both are to get the truth out.

He nods once. “Are you sure?”

“No,” you admit with a strained smile. “But I don’t want to keep hiding this anymore when he flashes his relationship in front of me,” you look at him through your lashes. “And I don’t want to hold back from you anymore.”

He tilts his head, watching you with something that feels like awe.

Still, the fear bubbles up in you. “What if he reacts badly? What if he says something at work? I don’t want to ruin things for you…” Your voice cracks at the end, and you look away. But he doesn’t let you.

“I’m not afraid of him,” Seonghwa says quietly. “Let him talk. Let him try.”

You huff a tiny laugh, but your eyes sting.

“I’m serious,” he says, voice gentler. “If he wants to make it ugly, I’ll deal with it. But I’d rather deal with that than watch you shrink yourself to protect me.”

You bite your lip.

“If he suggests you have an open relationship, then he has to understand the consequences of it,” he tugs a piece of hair behind your hair in the most caring manner. “So tell him. Let him know you’re mine now, too.”

Your heart jumps, even though neither of you says what this really means. That he’s not just a fling. That you don’t know how to untangle yourself from what’s happening between you and that maybe… You don’t want to.

“Give me five minutes,” he murmurs, voice low and amused as he glances at the way his tie hangs messily. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

You smile despite everything, still breathless from what just happened, still burning with nerves. You nod and smooth your dress, feeling like something irreversible has just shifted.

As you open the door to leave, his voice stops you again.

“And for the record?” he says, just loud enough for only you to hear. “I’m proud to be the one you’re choosing.”

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