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thedensworld · 4 months ago

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Marry A Rich Man | J. Ww

Genre: suggestive, angst, fwb au!, smut

Summary: every parent wanted their daughter to marry a rich man, Jeon Wonwoo. However, you are a rich man.

gif from @meowonhao (he's so fine i just physically and mentally can't (/□＼*))

No warn, just read and find it by yourself:)

You rolled your eyes at the mention of Jeon Wonwoo from Jeon Enterprise. His reputation as a notorious womanizer and all-around arrogant businessman was well known, and the thought of meeting him didn’t exactly excite you. So when your mother brought up the idea, you could hardly hide your disinterest.

“But it’s time for you to start thinking about marriage, Y/N. Don’t you know your younger sister has already been proposed to by her boyfriend?” she pressed, her tone a mix of encouragement and frustration.

“Good for her,” you mumbled with a shrug, not even bothering to meet her eyes.

“At least pretend you're interested. Wonwoo is quite the catch these days among the socialites,” your mother added with a resigned sigh, as if she was pleading more for her own sake than yours.

You stood up from the dinner table, glancing at your watch with a practiced smile. "I’m sorry, but I’ve got to run. There’s a business gathering I need to attend," you said, eager to make your exit.

Your father, who had been mostlydj silent, raised an eyebrow. “A business gathering? Will your friend Wonwoo be there? Say hello to him for me.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. "Father, you too?" you asked, feeling cornered.

He shrugged, a faint smile on his lips. “Just say hi. That’s all I’m asking. For me.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle lightly, shaking your head. “Fine. I’ll say hi.” The words came out reluctantly, but a small part of you wondered just what kind of person this infamous Jeon Wonwoo really was.

And here you were, sitting on a plush couch at a party teeming with young businessmen, most of whom had inherited their wealth rather than earned it. You sat alone at a table near where Jeon Wonwoo and his circle of friends lounged, their laughter loud and effortless. You had been invited by Kim Mingyu, the heir to Kim’s Group and the host of tonight’s extravagant affair. Mingyu and Wonwoo had been best friends since high school, along with familiar names like Seokmin and Junhui, who were part of their elite clique.

Jihoon, the doctor and heir to Seoul University Hospital, sat on a couch nearby with a can of Coke in hand, looking out of place among the champagne glasses and whiskey tumblers. “Too many people. My head hurts,” he muttered to you, rubbing his temple.

You chuckled softly. “That’s Mingyu for you. His social connections are endless. I wasn’t even surprised when I saw popular idols mingling here tonight.”

Jihoon nodded in agreement. “He’s a social butterfly. Sometimes I regret being friends with him,” he said with a wry smile, earning a genuine laugh from you. Jihoon had been your classmate in senior high school, and his deadpan humor was something you’d always appreciated.

Just then, Jihoon raised his hand, waving at someone behind you. You turned, and there he was—Jeon Wonwoo, making his way over, leaving Mingyu and the others behind at their table. He looked just as you had expected—sharp and composed, with an air of casual confidence.

“Can’t handle Mingyu?” Jihoon asked with a teasing grin as Wonwoo grabbed a glass of whiskey before settling into the couch across from you.

“Too much energy,” Wonwoo sighed, shaking his head, but his eyes quickly found yours.

“Nice to see you at a casual event for a change,” he said, his tone smooth, as if he were commenting on something extraordinary. You cursed internally, wishing Mingyu wasn’t your cousin and the reason you had to be here.

Jihoon chuckled. “Right? Y/N must be the hardest-working woman in this room. Always too busy building empires.” He leaned back, glancing at you with a teasing glint. “I saw your new building in Singapore last week, by the way. It looked incredible.”

You raised an eyebrow at both of them. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you asked, feigning offense, though their words had hit a nerve. Sure, you loved your work, but being painted as some workaholic who never had fun wasn’t exactly flattering.

Wonwoo smirked, swirling his whiskey. “It is. Not many people can pull off what you do. I’d say that’s impressive.”

Jihoon nodded, “Agreed. But don’t work too hard, Y/N. Some of us still need you to show up to these parties once in a while.”

You let out a soft laugh, but deep down, their remarks lingered. You were here, weren’t you? Yet somehow, you still felt worlds apart from them.

Jihoon glanced at his phone before letting out a soft sigh. "I should go. My shift starts in half an hour. It was nice seeing both of you here," he said, standing up and stretching slightly. Before leaving, he made a beeline for Mingyu to bid him goodbye.

As Jihoon walked away, Wonwoo turned to you, noticing your subtle discomfort. "Not a fan of parties?" he asked, his voice casual but his eyes sharp, clearly aware of your unease.

You cocked your head slightly, meeting his gaze. "Are you?"

Wonwoo shrugged with a mischievous grin. "I wouldn’t say I am, but Mingyu taught me a lot about how to survive them." He chuckled, the sound deep and warm, leaning a little closer as if sharing a secret.

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed but amused by his charm. "I see. The student surpasses the master, perhaps?"

He smirked, eyes glinting with playful interest. "Only in certain things," he said, the subtle flirtation unmistakable in his tone. He let the moment linger, his gaze never leaving yours.

You held his stare, calm and unfazed. "Lucky you, then."

Wonwoo chuckled again, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "Why don’t we step outside for a bit?" he suggested, leaning in just enough to make it feel intimate. "I know a nice spot nearby. Somewhere quieter."

Intrigued, you glanced at the bustling party around you and nodded. "Lead the way."

He stood up and offered you his arm, which you took with a composed smile. Wonwoo led you out of the party and into the crisp night air. After walking a few blocks through the city’s lively streets, he guided you to an old, tucked-away bookstore. The warm glow from inside spilled onto the sidewalk, and an elderly man at the counter looked up as you entered, his face lighting up in recognition.

"Wonwoo!" the old man greeted with a smile. "Back again?"

Wonwoo nodded, grinning. "Couldn’t stay away for too long, Mr. Han."

The old man gave you a kind look, then returned to his book, leaving you and Wonwoo to browse. "Didn’t think you'd be the type to bring someone here," Mr. Han commented lightly.

Wonwoo chuckled, glancing at you. "Sometimes you just meet the right person."

You let out a soft laugh, strolling through the rows of worn books. "A bookstore at this hour? Unexpected," you remarked, impressed but keeping your composure.

Wonwoo shrugged, his voice low and smooth. "I thought you'd appreciate something different."

He wasn’t wrong. As you wandered through the cozy aisles, the noise of the outside world faded away, and the two of you fell into a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the occasional shared glance.

As the clock struck midnight, Mr. Han locked up the bookstore and waved his goodbyes, leaving you and Wonwoo sitting on the bench just outside. The city had quieted down, and the soft glow of streetlights cast a warm, intimate ambiance around you. You had been talking for hours, the conversation flowing effortlessly as Wonwoo, intrigued by the way you thought, kept throwing different topics your way. Each one seemed to reveal a different layer of you, and he couldn't help but be fascinated.

At one point, the topic turned to wealth and power. You leaned back on the bench, crossing your arms. "When you give a rich man a little power, he thinks he rules the world," you stated, your tone casual but sharp. You had just finished explaining how much you despised the typical behavior of wealthy men—playboys who worked hard only to shower their side chicks with luxury.

Wonwoo paused for a moment, considering your words. Then, with a slight smirk, he responded, "I do feel like I rule the world." His voice was smooth, confident. "But I don’t act the way you think."

You chuckled, raising an eyebrow in challenge. "Liar. You’re quite famous for your playboy reputation, Mr. Jeon. You’ve got a habit of having everything—including any woman you want."

Wonwoo was momentarily caught off guard by the nickname, but he quickly composed himself, flashing a teasing smile. "Playboy agenda? That’s news to me."

"But you can’t deny you have everything," you pointed out, tilting your head slightly as you studied him.

He didn’t even hesitate. "You’re right. I do have everything." His tone was laced with confidence, almost as if he was testing you, waiting to see how you would respond.

You narrowed your eyes, your lips curving into a small, knowing smile. "See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Rich men like you think they own the world, when in reality, they don’t."

Wonwoo let out a genuine laugh, leaning in slightly as if to further draw you into the moment. "Alright then, tell me. What don’t I own?" His voice had dropped lower, almost daring you to challenge him.

You shrugged nonchalantly, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Me. You don’t own me."

The air between you shifted, the playful banter charged with a subtle tension. Wonwoo's eyes lingered on yours, his smirk softening as he took in your words. "Yet," he said, his voice teasing but with an edge of something deeper, something bolder.

"You didn’t say my hello to Wonwoo," your father remarked casually as you entered his office the next morning.

You paused mid-step, organizing the files in your hands before glancing over at him. "How do you know?"

Your father sat on the main sofa, picking up one of the files you brought for him to review. "I ran into him yesterday. I asked about you, and he mentioned you didn't pass along my greeting." He looked at you with a knowing smile.

You rolled your eyes lightly, pushing the file toward him, trying to keep your expression neutral. "And what else did he say?"

Your father raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your sudden curiosity. "Why? Did something happen between you two?"

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks, but you quickly masked it, waving your hand dismissively. "No, I was just worried he might’ve said something bad. You know me—I’m not exactly known for being polite."

Your father chuckled, seemingly buying your excuse. "True. You’ve always been a bit like a debt collector in business—firm and straightforward. But it works for you. That said, Wonwoo did mention he’d like to see you again."

You nodded slowly, muttering under your breath, "I bet."

"What was that?" your father asked, but you waved it off, diverting the conversation back to the files. You weren’t going to entertain this topic any further, not now.

Later that day, as you continued working, your phone buzzed with a message from Mingyu.

Mingyu: Wonwoo asked for your personal contact. What did I miss?

You stared at the message for a moment, shaking your head in disbelief. The last thing you wanted was to discuss Wonwoo, especially after everything that had happened the night before.

Still, you went about your day as if nothing had changed. You ignored your father’s comments, brushed off Mingyu’s text, and mentally dodged every thought of Jeon Wonwoo. But then, as you drove home, your mother called. Of course, the conversation somehow found its way back to him. Jeon Wonwoo—this man you’d only met at Mingyu’s birthday, yet who seemed to be lingering in everyone’s thoughts.

You sighed as you politely listened to your mother, her voice bubbling with excitement as if Wonwoo were the best thing that had ever happened. Little did she know you had spent the night with him, and now you were trying to figure out what it all meant.

The next morning, you arrived at your office, only to be greeted by an overwhelming sight—buckets of flowers surrounding your desk. You stood there, arms crossed, brows furrowed. The overwhelming scent filled the room, making the normally neat and orderly space feel chaotic.

"Someone’s been sending these non-stop since early this morning," your assistant said, standing beside you. "I don’t think they’ll stop unless you tell them to."

You picked up one of the cards attached to a bouquet, reading the note: I don’t appreciate the way we parted. Let’s meet again and clear up any misunderstandings.

Your eyes narrowed, already knowing who the sender was. You walked briskly to your computer and began typing an email to the flower sender—Jeon Wonwoo himself. You kept the tone professional, telling him to stop flooding your office with flowers and that, perhaps, you could meet again to "clear things up."

You hit send, sitting back in your chair with a sigh. Part of you wondered if you’d regret agreeing to meet him again, but another part—the curious part—was already anticipating it.

Wonwoo waited in the hotel room, his thoughts racing as he paced around. The same room. The same place where everything had begun on Mingyu's birthday night, when you had opened up to him—at least he thought you had. But the next morning, you were gone, leaving behind only a note and a sting to his pride.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He didn't recognize himself lately. Since meeting you, he'd felt... off. Needy, even. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to wanting someone so much that it clouded his mind.

He remembered the note you left: It was nice. You’re experienced in this area. Along with it, you’d left some cash, as if he were some service you had paid for. That stung his ego more than he cared to admit. He should’ve been furious, but instead, all he could think about was craving you again—your skin against his, your presence.

The sound of the door opening snapped him out of his thoughts, and he turned, watching as you casually entered the room. You kicked off your heels without care, tossed your expensive bag onto the couch, and sat down across from him with an air of confidence that was unmistakable.

"You’re late. Thirty minutes," Wonwoo said, his eyes following your every move.

You didn’t even bother with pleasantries. Instead, you massaged your leg, looking at him with a tired yet unfazed expression. "As if you had anything better to do after this," you replied, hitting on the fact that he had canceled all his plans for the evening the moment he received your email this morning.

He didn’t deny it. He had dropped everything, cleared his schedule, just to see you. Maybe to talk, maybe more. He wasn’t hoping for anything to happen tonight, but if it did... well, he wouldn't be complaining.

"So," you said, leaning back into the couch, confidence radiating from you. "What exactly do you want to clear up between us?"

Wonwoo mirrored your posture, uncrossing his legs as he leaned forward. "I don't appreciate you framing me as some playboy," he said, his voice calm but firm. He wasn’t used to being talked about like that, especially not by someone who clearly affected him more than he’d like to admit.

You raised an eyebrow, unbothered by his accusation. "You’re not?" you asked, your tone teasing, as if daring him to deny it.

"I’m a very noble person," he replied, almost defensively. "I don’t mess around with lots of women, if that’s what you were implying."

You chuckled, the sound light and dismissive. "And that bothers you?"

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, it silenced Wonwoo. Did it bother him? It shouldn’t. But coming from you, it did. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because, deep down, he didn’t want you to see him that way.

"It shouldn’t," he admitted after a beat, his gaze locking onto yours. "But with you, it does."

Your expression softened, just for a second, before you smirked. "Interesting." You leaned forward slightly, meeting his gaze head-on. "So, what are you going to do about it, Mr. Jeon?"

Wonwoo felt his pulse quicken, but he kept his composure. He didn’t know how this conversation would end, but he knew one thing: you had him wrapped around your finger, and you probably knew it too.

Wonwoo didn’t respond right away. It did bother him, more than it should. And he wasn’t sure why. Normally, he wouldn’t care what someone thought of him—especially not someone who seemed so determined to keep their distance. But with you, it was different. He didn’t like the way you saw him, the way you assumed he was just another rich man playing games.

But it wasn’t just that. You challenged him in a way that no one else had. You made him feel things he wasn’t used to feeling, and as much as he hated it, he couldn’t ignore it.

Wonwoo leaned forward, his gaze intense as he closed the distance between you. "I think you like pretending you’re the one in control," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "But I don’t think you mind letting me show you otherwise."

He watched you closely, waiting for a reaction. There was a flicker of something in your eyes—curiosity, maybe even desire—but you masked it quickly, crossing your legs slowly, as if to test his patience.

"Bold assumption, Mr. Jeon," you said, your tone light but your eyes never leaving his. "But I don’t hand over control easily."

Wonwoo’s lips curved into a smile, dark and full of intent. "Who said anything about easy?" He let his hand drift to your knee, his touch deliberate and slow, testing the waters. "I’m just suggesting we explore this... dynamic a little further. See where it takes us."

He moved closer, his voice dropping to a whisper as his breath brushed your ear. "Unless, of course, you’re afraid you might like what you find."

The tension between you thickened, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Wonwoo could feel his pulse quicken, the anticipation coiling inside him like a spring ready to snap. You were playing it cool, but he could tell you were thinking it over. There was something between you that neither of you could deny.

Finally, you leaned back into the couch, crossing your arms with that same infuriating confidence. "You seem so sure of yourself," you mused, your voice teasing. "But I don’t think you know what you’re getting into."

Wonwoo let out a soft chuckle, his hand sliding a little higher up your thigh, the touch now more intimate, more daring. "Then show me," he whispered, his voice thick with desire.

The tension between you was electric now, the pull irresistible. He had no intention of walking away from this without exploring whatever it was that had ignited between you since that first night.

And from the way your gaze darkened as you leaned in slightly, he knew you felt the same.

Wonwoo’s arms tightened gently around your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck as he whispered, "Stay..." You hesitated for a moment, your mind already on the exit, but the pull of his touch made you pause. There was something about his embrace that felt too inviting, too comfortable to resist.

The familiar warmth of his body pressed against yours, and without thinking, you leaned back into him. His fingers traced lazy circles on your skin, a slow and deliberate motion that sent a subtle shiver down your spine. You weren’t sure what it was that kept bringing you back here—to this very same room, to him—but the connection between the two of you was undeniable. It was never about love, but the chemistry was hard to ignore.

As his lips brushed your shoulder, you could feel the tension in the air, an unspoken invitation in the way his hand lingered on your waist. "I like this," he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as if sharing a secret meant only for the two of you.

As you lay there, the memories of Seungcheol creeped back into your thoughts, despite your best efforts to keep them at bay. Your relationship with him had been all-consuming, something that once filled every corner of your heart and mind. It was hard to think about him without remembering how much he had demanded of you—emotionally, mentally, and even physically.

With Seungcheol, things had started out like a whirlwind. He was intense, driven, and passionate, and for a while, you were swept up in it. You thought that kind of intensity meant love, that his need for you, his constant presence, was a sign of something real and lasting. But slowly, the weight of it all became too much to bear. His passion turned into control, his love into expectations you couldn’t meet, and his presence became suffocating.

There were good times too, of course—moments where he made you feel like you were the only person in the world that mattered to him. But those moments were always fleeting, overshadowed by his demands. He wanted more than you could give, and in the end, you had nothing left to offer him.

The break-up had been brutal. Seungcheol didn’t understand why you were pulling away, and you couldn’t find the words to explain how drained you felt. He had taken so much from you, and by the time you walked away, you weren’t sure if you even knew how to love anymore.

Now, with Wonwoo, he didn’t demand anything from you. He didn’t ask for your heart, your promises, or your future. There was no pressure to be more than you were capable of being. It was a relief, but at the same time, it left you feeling hollow in a way you hadn’t expected.

You glanced over at Wonwoo as he lay beside you, his breathing slow and steady. He was so different from Seungcheol—calm, relaxed, and never overbearing. Yet, there was something about the way you kept coming back to him, something that felt just a little too easy, as though you were using him to fill a space that Seungcheol had left behind.

Maybe you were both just trying to avoid the emptiness, finding comfort in each other because it was simple. But deep down, you wondered if you were really healing or just hiding from the scars Seungcheol had left on you. The thought lingered as you closed your eyes, choosing once again to stay in the moment, avoiding the pain that lay beneath the surface.

"Are you leaving already?" Wonwoo’s voice interrupted your thoughts, his hand resting gently on your arm.

You looked over at him, meeting his eyes. There was a question there, but it wasn’t the kind that demanded an answer. He understood that whatever you had together wasn’t complicated.

You shook your head slightly. "No, I’ll stay a bit longer."

You met Seungcheol again for the first time in five years. He now owned his own advertising label, just like the dream he'd talked about so many years ago. Today, he had come to your father’s company, probably without expecting that he'd be working with you. After all, Seungcheol had never fully believed in your competence back then, so he certainly wouldn’t have expected to see you sitting across from him as one of the company’s directors.

You steeled yourself with every ounce of professionalism you could muster, trying to suppress the erratic pulse that betrayed how unsettled you truly were. During the meeting, when your eyes met briefly across the table, memories flooded back. You were reminded of why you loved him so deeply when you were together. He was charismatic, driven, and had a presence that was still undeniably captivating.

But the love that once shone in his eyes was gone. He had moved on, you'd heard. And it was best for him—best for both of you, perhaps. You forced yourself to focus, nodding to your secretary, silently willing the meeting to end as quickly as possible.

The moment it was over, you gathered your things and hurried out of the meeting room, heading toward your office. Your footsteps quickened with each step, eager to put distance between you and the past. But just as you turned the corner, a familiar hand reached out and caught your arm. It was Seungcheol.

"Hi... How are you? I didn’t expect to see you here," he said, his voice softer than you remembered.

You bit your lip, fighting to keep your composure. "Great..." you replied, pulling your arm away from his gentle grip, the contact sending a wave of emotions you'd tried to bury long ago.

Seungcheol seemed to realize what he'd done and quickly took a step back, giving you space. "I’m sorry," he said, his expression unreadable. "You must be busy. It was... nice to see you again, Y/n."

His words were polite, but there was a weight to them, a shared history that couldn’t be erased. You nodded, offering a brief smile before turning away, your heart racing from the brief encounter. The man who had once held all your love was now just another face from your past—a past that felt closer than it should.

Once the climax hit both you and Wonwoo, you collapsed onto his chest, gasping for air as your body trembled above him. His hands remained firmly on your hips, steadying you while the waves of pleasure slowly subsided. For a moment, neither of you moved, the intensity of the moment still lingering in the air. Wonwoo’s chest rose and fell beneath you as he caught his breath, his fingers gently tracing patterns along your skin.

"It was the best yet," he finally murmured, a small smirk tugging at his lips, his voice low and satisfied. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your cheek as you lay against him, both of you basking in the aftermath of your shared experience.

You closed your eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of his words and the undeniable chemistry that always seemed to pull you back to him.

"You should ride me more next time," Wonwoo jested with a playful smirk, but his breath hitched slightly as you pulled away from him, the lingering sensation still sparking through him. He watched as you climbed out of bed without a word, fetching the bathrobe and slipping it over your bare skin.

As you walked to the couch and sat down, your eyes seemed distant, wandering as if lost in thought. There was a tension in the air that hadn’t been there before. Wonwoo propped himself up on his elbows, watching you intently. This wasn’t like you—the usual confident, carefree attitude that had defined your time together seemed to falter for the first time.

"Something on your mind?" he asked, a hint of curiosity mixed with concern in his tone. He couldn’t help but notice the shift, the way you suddenly seemed disconnected. It was the first time he'd seen you like this—guarded, almost as if you were somewhere else entirely.

Wonwoo stood up, slipping into his pants before making his way toward you. He sat beside you, gently cupping your cheeks as his thumb brushed against your skin. He could sense something was weighing on you, something that perhaps had fueled the raw emotion in the way you'd been with him earlier.

"You look so beautiful like this," he whispered, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your lips. His eyes searched yours after the kiss, waiting for you to speak, to tell him what was really going on.

After a pause, you finally mumbled, "I realize... I'm changing so much." Your voice was soft, almost unsure.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything, letting the silence stretch as he waited for you to continue. He knew there was more you needed to say.

"I'm so different from who I used to be," you confessed, your words almost a whisper. "I used to be so... pure. So used to being taken care of. I was needy, clingy. I didn’t understand things. And now... I don't like how I’ve become, like I’ve had to figure everything out on my own."

Wonwoo let out a sigh, his eyes never leaving yours. "Is it about us? Is that what's bothering you?"

You hesitated before answering, "One of them."

His grip on your face softened, his touch reassuring as he waited for you to unravel more of what was inside you. The rawness in your voice, the vulnerability, was something new between the two of you, and he wanted to understand.

"I've never done this with anyone..." you confessed quietly, your eyes dropping for a moment. "It’s amazing to be with you, Wonwoo. But I feel so hollow afterward. I feel... really bad. That’s why I always leave."

Wonwoo took your hand gently, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin. "Because you don’t want to show me this side of you?" he asked softly, his voice calm but full of understanding. You took a deep breath, nodding in response.

"Are you going to let me go, Wonwoo? Like everyone else?" you asked, your voice filled with uncertainty.

Wonwoo shook his head firmly, his gaze steady on yours. "I’m not going anywhere, even if you ask me to. I’m stubborn like that, Y/n."

Relief washed over you as you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "Thanks," you whispered, feeling a weight lift off your chest.

Wonwoo tossed his keys onto the counter, his thoughts still swirling. He leaned against the kitchen island, trying to shake the feeling that had settled in his chest since you’d opened up to him. The more he thought about it, the more it nagged at him.

He had always been good at keeping things casual, knowing the boundaries of a no-strings relationship. But something about the way you looked at him tonight—the way you confessed how hollow you felt—stirred something deeper inside him. He didn't like seeing you in pain. He didn't like that you were dealing with it alone.

But what could he do? He wasn’t supposed to care this much. You two were just... enjoying each other, right? No commitments, no expectations.

Yet, for the first time, he felt something beyond that, a pull he hadn’t anticipated. He wanted to be more than just your distraction, more than just someone to pass the time with. But at the same time, he knew crossing that line could complicate everything.

“Damn it,” Wonwoo muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t deny the truth anymore: he wanted to be there for you, to be the person you leaned on. But would you let him? And more importantly, was he even ready to be that person?

Just as his mind raced, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. His mother's name flashed across the screen, and he answered on the second ring, grateful for the distraction.

Their conversation flowed easily, as it always did, catching up on life, work, and updates on the family. But when she shifted to more personal matters, his stomach tightened.

"Every mother wants their daughter to meet you, Wonwoo. I had no idea my son was that popular." Her voice was filled with pride and a hint of amusement.

Wonwoo chuckled, deflecting with a light jest. “You raised an amazing man, mother.”

Her laugh came through the phone, warm and familiar. “Maybe it's time you meet one of them. A dinner wouldn’t hurt, would it?”

He paused, the suggestion hanging in the air. It was simple enough, really—meet someone new, go through the motions. And yet, it felt like a heavier decision than it should have been.

Maybe she was right. Maybe meeting someone else, taking a step back from you, would give him the clarity he needed. Maybe that was what he should do—slowly distance himself from this complicated entanglement.

But as he sat there, phone still pressed to his ear, something inside him hesitated.

Your presence was impossible for Wonwoo to ignore. You sat just a few tables away, speaking comfortably with a man whose face he vaguely recognized but couldn’t place. In front of him sat Sung Yubin, a girl his mother had been eager for him to meet.

“Is the food to your liking?” Yubin asked, her voice cutting through his thoughts. Wonwoo quickly shifted his gaze from your table back to her, realizing only then that he had stopped chewing his steak, distracted by your presence.

“It’s great. Please, help yourself,” he responded politely, though his attention wandered back to you again. He tensed when he caught you looking back at him, though you quickly resumed your conversation with the man sitting across from you.

“I’m glad we could have dinner,” Yubin continued, unaware of his distraction. “The school lunch today was weird, so I ended up skipping it.” She was a senior nursing student, and while her conversation topics should have interested him, Wonwoo found himself nodding absently to her remarks. She wasn’t exactly his type—always rolling her eyes at the waitstaff and focusing more on trivial complaints.

After the meal, Wonwoo excused himself, claiming he had another engagement when Yubin hinted at wanting him to drive her home. Though a flicker of disappointment crossed her face, she seemed satisfied when he hailed a cab for her. As she left, Wonwoo felt a wave of relief wash over him.

Then, just as he was about to leave, he spotted you stepping out of the restaurant with the man from earlier. A third person, a woman, approached, and after a brief handshake, the man walked away with her, leaving you standing alone.

A small smile tugged at Wonwoo’s lips as your eyes met his again.

“I thought you were on a date,” Wonwoo teased, stepping closer to you.

“Because yours was?” you shot back with a smirk, fully aware that you were right.

He chuckled, “Wanna grab a beer?”

You hesitated only for a second before nodding, a quiet acknowledgment that whatever was between you two wasn’t over just yet.

“Who was that girl?” you asked as soon as you were seated at the bar, curiosity lacing your voice.

“Someone my mother wanted me to meet,” Wonwoo replied casually, his eyes scanning the menu. He raised his hand to order an expensive bottle of liquor for the both of you.

“I thought we were just going to grab a beer?” you teased, raising an eyebrow at his choice.

Wonwoo shook his head with a small grin. “Gotta treat you to something good.”

“Oh, trying to show off that you’re rich?” you joked, and he nodded proudly.

“That’s my favorite thing to do around you,” he bantered back, making you chuckle.

When the drinks arrived, you both clinked glasses in an unspoken toast. Wonwoo took a sip of his drink, his gaze fixed on your reaction. He watched as you took a sip, your face lighting up with satisfaction, and a sense of relief washed over him. He’d made the right choice.

“So, that guy you were with earlier... do I know him?” Wonwoo asked, steering the conversation back.

“He’s Choi Seungcheol,” you said, a name that clicked in Wonwoo’s mind.

“From Ads Coups, right?” Wonwoo asked, recalling the name from some big industry moves. You nodded.

“Business dinner? Or a friend?” he pressed further.

You hesitated, and for a moment, it seemed like you were debating whether to tell him the truth. But then you took a breath and said it.

“Both.”

Wonwoo’s expression didn’t change. He sat quietly for a moment, absorbing what you said, before you finally added the last piece.

“An ex.”

“I see…” Wonwoo nodded, acknowledging your words with a calmness that surprised even him. He didn’t press further, but the air between you suddenly felt a little heavier, a little more complicated than it had just moments before.

“Almost married him,” you confessed, a hint of irony in your voice. “But here I am… still being pampered by my mom to find someone.”

Wonwoo chuckled softly, leaning back in his seat. “Don’t worry, you’re not alone in that.”

“At least you’re a good son,” you pointed out. “You actually meet the people your mom suggests. Meanwhile, I reject every single offer mine throws at me.”

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Tell me one name. Just one, that your mom wanted you to meet.”

Without missing a beat, you looked at him and said, “You.”

Wonwoo blinked, caught off guard. “Me?” he asked, incredulous.

You nodded, a smirk playing on your lips. “My mom, my dad. They’re big fans of yours.”

He grinned, clearly amused. “Well, I feel honored,” he said with mock pride.

“So, why’d you reject me?” he teased, leaning in slightly. “I mean, why reject the offer?”

You shrugged casually. “Same reason I reject all of them. I don’t see the point in meeting people just because my mom wants me to. Even if they’re rich. I’m rich too.”

Wonwoo smiled and raised his glass toward you. “Here’s to rich men,” he said, with a playful glint in his eyes, including both of you in the toast.

You laughed, clinking your glass against his. “To rich men,” you echoed with a grin, the shared joke lightening the mood as you both enjoyed the comfortable banter.

Wonwoo looked at you in surprise. You want him to stay?

Just like the other day, the two of you had returned to the same hotel room, indulging in each other’s company. Wonwoo was about to fetch his pants, thinking you’d want to leave as usual. But this time, you surprised him.

“Hm... stay,” you mumbled, eyes closed. Wonwoo didn’t hesitate; he slipped back into bed, pulling your bare body close to him.

As you relaxed into his warmth, you murmured, “Wanna go on a trip with me?”

Wonwoo glanced down at you, curious. “When?”

“Earliest flight today. I want to go to Tokyo.” Your voice was soft, almost sleepy, but the spontaneity in your words caught him off guard. You sounded ridiculous, but he couldn’t help but smile. Without a second thought, he grabbed his phone and texted his secretary to book the earliest flight to Tokyo for two.

“Let’s sleep. We still have a few hours,” he whispered, gently lulling you into rest.

The next morning, after landing in Tokyo, Wonwoo asked as you both walked out of the airport, “You’re okay with taking a sudden day off like this?”

“Using my my-dad-owns-the-company card for the first time won’t hurt anybody,” you replied with a casual shrug.

Wonwoo chuckled, amused by your carefree attitude. “So, where do you want to go after this?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned into his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist as the cab drove you to the hotel.

“Let’s see,” you finally murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wonwoo smiled to himself, feeling your comfortable presence against him. He liked this—being with you like this, without overthinking or complicating things. Just living in the moment.

"Yeah," he thought to himself, "I really like this."

Wonwoo watched you, eyebrows furrowed, as you spoke to your mother on the phone. He found the interaction between the two of you amusing, and a small smile tugged at his lips.

"At my office?" you said, trying to keep your tone calm as your mother inquired about your whereabouts.

"Don't lie to me. I'm at your office," your mother shot back, and Wonwoo stifled a laugh as you closed your eyes in frustration.

"I'm in Tokyo for business," you finally admitted with a sigh.

"And you didn’t bring Chan with you?" your mother asked, referring to your secretary still at the office.

"I like being by myself," you replied, your tone measured. "Besides, Chan has things to handle for me back home."

"That’s why you need to start meeting men. How about Jeon Wonwoo? I mentioned him before," your mother insisted.

Wonwoo’s ears perked up at the sound of his name, and he raised an eyebrow, curious.

"I’ll think about it," you said, trying to end the conversation without drawing it out.

As soon as you hung up, Wonwoo, still intrigued, asked, "What was that all about?"

You casually took a sip of your coffee. "Just my mom trying to set me up with you."

A smirk spread across Wonwoo’s face. "I wish she knew what we’ve already done in bed—"

"Shut up!" You quickly covered his mouth before he could finish, your eyes wide with embarrassment.

Wonwoo leaned closer, his voice dropping to a playful whisper. "Why? Embarrassed to let anyone know how wild you were in the bedroom?"

Without missing a beat, you grabbed a spoonful of cheesecake and shoved it into his mouth to silence him, and he chuckled as he chewed, eyes twinkling with mischief.

You had spent the entire day together, enjoying the sights and sounds of Tokyo before deciding to fly back to Seoul the next morning. Wonwoo had taken you to all the places you’d been wanting to visit—arcades, restaurants, cafes, and even a clothing shop you had your eye on. By the time you both returned to the hotel, you collapsed on the bed, exhausted but satisfied.

When Wonwoo stepped out of the bathroom, towel around his neck, he chuckled at the sight of you still sprawled out in the same position he left you.

"Go take a shower, you stink," he teased, playfully slapping your leg, making you groan as you slowly got up.

"I'm so happy but so tired. Tired but happy," you said, smiling through the exhaustion as you made your way into the bathroom.

After you’d showered and freshened up, you stepped out to find Wonwoo waiting for you at the table, a spread of food laid out.

"I ordered something," he said, motioning toward the dishes with a proud smile. "Figured you’d need some fuel after today."

Your stomach growled in response, and you sat down with a grateful sigh. "You always know exactly what I need."

Wonwoo chuckled, "Of course. Gotta keep you happy, even when you're tired."

You shared a quiet meal together, the comfortable silence between you speaking volumes as you savored both the food and the company.

"Jeon Wonwoo," you called his name softly, pulling his attention away from his phone.

He shifted his gaze to you, curious. "What’s on your mind?"

"Don’t you feel like I’m using you?" you asked, your tone surprisingly serious.

Wonwoo furrowed his brows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

You shrugged, trying to downplay the growing unease in your chest. "Because I only call you when I need you."

Wonwoo's expression softened, and he shook his head. "No, you're not using me. We’re both busy, me with my work, you with yours. That’s just how life is."

You looked down at your plate, not entirely convinced. "But don’t you feel like... like I'm taking advantage of you? Your ego—doesn’t it bother you?"

He paused, setting his utensil down carefully as he studied you. "Where's this coming from?" he asked gently.

You sighed. "I’ve just been thinking. Men are always talking about pride and ego. Doesn't it hurt yours?"

Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he considered your words. "Is that why you've built up your own walls? To feel equal to men?" he asked thoughtfully.

"In business? Absolutely," you admitted. "It’s a constant power struggle, and I have to keep up."

He nodded, understanding. Then he smiled softly. "You know, my ego did take a hit when you left me cash that day. But today? Nah, I don’t feel anything but happy being with you. I’m not keeping score, Y/N."

You looked up at him, surprised. "Happy?"

"Yeah," he continued, leaning forward a little. "Being with you—it doesn’t feel like a game of who has more power. I’m just enjoying your company. So, no, I don’t feel used."

You smiled, finally letting yourself relax. "Thanks, Wonwoo."

He chuckled and raised his glass. "You overthink too much, you know that?"

As you clinked glasses with him, a thought crossed your mind. "What if... I told you I wasn’t looking for anything serious right now?"

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow but remained calm. "I’d say that’s fine. We don’t have to define anything right now. We can just be, you know?"

You nodded, comforted by his nonchalance. "That sounds... nice."

After a brief silence, Wonwoo leaned in again with a playful smirk. "But if you ever decide to make it serious, just know—I’ll still beat you in Mario Kart."

You laughed, the heaviness of the conversation finally lifting. "You wish."

For the rest of the night, the conversation stayed light, the tension between you fading away as easily as it had come.

Seungcheol had been everything to you when you first started. As an intern, you admired his dedication, his leadership, and the way he always seemed to know exactly what to do. He wasn’t just your manager; he became your mentor, teaching you the ropes in a way no one else had. You were eager to learn, even though you weren’t perfect—stumbling over presentations, sometimes missing the mark—but Seungcheol never made you feel small. Not at first.

He didn’t know who you really were. To him, you were just another intern, eager to climb the corporate ladder. It felt refreshing, in a way, to be seen for your efforts and not your last name. You soaked up everything he taught you, from strategic planning to how to carry yourself in high-stakes meetings. You admired him not just for his professional skills, but for the way he treated you—gently, yet firm when it came to work.

When he asked you out, it felt like everything was falling into place. You were growing in your career, and you had someone who believed in you by your side. Seungcheol was passionate about his own dreams too, talking endlessly about wanting to start his own advertisement company one day. You supported him, proud to see the ambition that had first drawn you to him. But then, things shifted.

After he resigned to pursue his dreams, something changed. He wanted you to leave the company and join him, to take a risk and build something together. But your responsibilities weighed on you, the expectations from your family were unavoidable. When you declined, Seungcheol didn’t take it well. He started subtly belittling your choice, acting as though staying in the company made you less bold, less ambitious.

The truth about your identity eventually came out, and that’s when the real cracks appeared. When Seungcheol found out you were the company heir, his pride took a hit. Your paychecks started outpacing his, your name held weight he could never match, and that, more than anything, stung him. He stopped seeing you as his equal, and instead, he saw you as a threat. He began making snide comments about your success, about how it wasn’t "earned" the way his was, how you had everything handed to you.

Your relationship with Seungcheol had changed you in ways you didn’t fully understand until much later. As the dynamic shifted, as his resentment grew, it left scars that ran deeper than you’d realized. You had loved him, truly, and for a while, you believed he loved you too. But the more success you found, the more he became a different person, someone who couldn't bear to see you surpass him.

It was like watching a man fall apart, piece by piece, under the weight of his own pride. He’d lash out, not always with words, but with the smallest gestures—a disapproving look, a dismissive comment. He stopped celebrating your wins, and instead, they seemed to remind him of his own perceived failures. The man you admired for his passion became someone who resented you for the very things that once made him proud. He had wanted you to be successful, but only as long as it didn’t eclipse him.

And you learned a painful truth from that relationship: that love, or at least the kind you’d experienced, was fragile. Men, as strong as they appeared when they were on top, could crumble when they felt they were losing control. It wasn’t just Seungcheol—it was the way he embodied this belief that men were only themselves when they were successful. When they stumbled, when they struggled, their pride and ego became brittle, breaking at the slightest challenge.

That relationship didn’t just end—it left you with a sense of distrust, of wariness. You’d given your heart to someone who couldn’t handle it when you started to grow beyond the version of yourself he was comfortable with. And that made you build walls, whether you intended to or not. You found yourself questioning every man’s intentions, wondering if they would also resent you when things didn’t go their way.

Seungcheol had stolen your capability to love freely. He’d left you with the belief that love was conditional, that it came with terms and conditions tied to power and success. Men, in your experience, wanted to be the center, to be the ones in control. And when they weren’t, they withered. They became smaller versions of themselves, unable to accept that you could be strong, capable, and successful without it taking anything away from them.

You stopped letting people in the way you once had. Sure, you dated, but it was different. Detached. You kept your guard up, unwilling to allow anyone the power to diminish you again. Every time you met someone, there was that lingering thought—what happens when they see the full extent of who I am? Will they shrink? Will they pull away like Seungcheol did?

Seungcheol hadn’t just hurt you—he’d left you with an image of men that was hard to shake. The ones who thrived when things were easy, but couldn’t handle the weight of your success. Men who were all pride and ego, fragile when the world stopped revolving around them. You didn’t want to think like that, but it was all you knew now.

"Your meeting with Jeon Wonwoo will be on Saturday. Make sure you actually come. And also, get dressed properly this time!" Your mother’s voice rang out as she adjusted her pearl necklace, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You stared at her, incredulous. "I haven't even said yes yet," you shot back, folding your arms defensively.

But your mother merely smiled, clearly pleased with herself. "I met his mother at a gathering yesterday. We talked for quite a while, and she mentioned the last girl he met wasn't his type. I showed her your picture, and she said you might be exactly what he’s looking for."

"But Wonwoo and Y/n are friends," your father interjected, his voice calm but firm from the other end of the dining room.

"I know," your mother replied smoothly, waving her hand as if the detail was inconsequential. "But that doesn’t matter. The impression we make on his mother is what's important."

Your brow furrowed, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "What’s wrong with me exactly? I’m fine. I’m a great woman," you retorted, trying to keep your cool.

Your mother sighed dramatically, setting down her tea cup with a delicate clink. "I just wish I had raised you to be a more polite and less...brash woman." She shrugged, as though the issue was that simple.

"Polite?" You raised an eyebrow, sarcasm creeping into your voice. "I say please and thank you. What more do you want?"

Your father chuckled softly from behind his newspaper, causing your mother to give him a quick, disapproving glance. He always found humor in your back-and-forths.

Your mother’s words hung in the air, sharp yet laced with a familiar disappointment. You could sense her frustration, but it only made you roll your eyes in response.

“Y/N, dear, you are a great woman. But sometimes I wonder if you care about your future at all.” She sighed again, leaning back in her chair. “I’m not asking for much—just meet him. Wonwoo’s a good man, and you two already know each other. It wouldn’t hurt to see if there’s something more there.”

You crossed your arms, still feeling the weight of her expectations pressing down on you. “Wonwoo and I are friends. I don’t need you playing matchmaker with someone I already know.”

Your mother gave you a pointed look, as if she had already rehearsed her response to every argument you could throw her way. “Wonwoo’s mother agrees that it’s worth a shot. Besides, friendships can turn into something more. You’ll never know unless you try.”

Your father cleared his throat. “Maybe we should let Y/N make her own decisions about this. She’s capable of knowing what’s best for her.”

Your mother didn’t relent. “I just want the best for you. Wonwoo is successful, respectful, and comes from a good family. That’s a strong foundation, isn’t it?”

“Fine, I’ll go,” you finally said, more out of a desire to end the conversation than genuine interest. “But I’m not promising anything.”

Your mother beamed, already envisioning some grand future for you and Wonwoo. “That’s all I ask.”

As you excused yourself from the table, you couldn’t help but think about Wonwoo and how bizarre it would be to approach him under these new terms. Would he know about the setup? Or would this just be another awkward encounter orchestrated by your families? Either way, it was bound to be interesting.

Your walls clenched tightly around Wonwoo as he thrust into you with raw passion, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge. Your nails dug into his back, leaving streaks of red as he found just the right spot over and over again. Moans spilled from your lips, growing louder with each movement as his pace quickened.

"What do you think our moms would say if they knew what we're doing right now instead of having that proper dinner?" Wonwoo's voice was a breathless whisper against your ear, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as his rhythm deepened.

You could hardly think, let alone speak, but somehow you managed to find the breath to reply, "They'd be thrilled... their kids are trying to give them grandkids." You shot back, your voice hitching with every thrust.

Your words clearly hit him harder than you anticipated. Wonwoo's cock twitched inside you, the mere thought of you carrying his child driving him wild in ways he hadn’t expected. His eyes darkened with lust, and his pace became even more relentless, the idea of you pregnant with his baby stirring something primal within him.

"Do you want that?" Wonwoo growled, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his hips snapped against yours, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. "Tell me. Do you want it?"

The feeling of his cock hitting that sweet spot over and over again had your mind spinning, your body trembling as the orgasm started to build in your core. You could barely hold yourself together, your breath coming in shallow gasps. "Fuck, Wonwoo... Don’t you dare... I'm so close... I'm cumming!" you managed to cry out, your body tightening around him.

Wonwoo’s grip on your hips tightened as he groaned against your neck. "I got you, baby," he whispered, and with a few more deep, powerful thrusts, you both tumbled over the edge together, the pleasure washing over you in waves that left you breathless and shaking.

He stayed inside you for a moment longer, riding out the high, his forehead pressed against yours as you both panted heavily. The air between you was thick with the afterglow, the heat of your bodies mingling together in the quiet aftermath.

"My mother said she wants to see me with a woman like you," Wonwoo said softly during aftercare, his gentle hands carefully wiping your body clean with a warm towel.

You leaned against his shoulder, too tired to sit up straight, and replied, "Everyone wants their son to be with a woman like me." Your voice was teasing, lightening the mood in the quiet aftermath.

Wonwoo chuckled, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Sure, you're an amazing woman—with amazing tits," he added with a playful grin.

You laughed at his words, playfully slapping his arm in mock indignation. He scooped you up effortlessly and carried you from the bathroom to the bed, tucking you under the soft duvet with a tender smile. After quickly cleaning himself, he joined you, sinking into the warmth beside you.

"Have you ever imagined the two of us together? Like officially together?" You asked, your eyes fluttering open to meet his, curiosity shining in your gaze. Your hand instinctively found its way to his arm, linking with him as if seeking reassurance.

"Every time happiness comes to me while I'm with you," Wonwoo replied, his voice low and sincere, "I always think about how wonderful it would be to share that happiness with you forever."

You turned to face him, your surprise evident in your wide eyes. "Okay, that was deeper than I expected."

He pulled you closer, his lips brushing softly against your forehead in a sweet gesture. "I told you I'm a romantic man."

"You are," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as warmth blossomed in your chest.

As you nestled against him, a thought crossed your mind, and you mumbled, “What if we made this official? You know, like really official?”

Wonwoo’s eyes widened in surprise, and a grin broke across his face, lighting up his features. “Are you serious?” he asked, his excitement palpable. “You’re not just saying that?”

You felt a rush of warmth at his reaction and nodded, your heart racing. “Yeah, I mean… why not? We get along so well, and I like being with you. I think we could make a real go of it.”

His smile grew even wider, and he pulled you closer, almost lifting you off the bed with enthusiasm. “This is amazing! I’ve been hoping you’d say something like that. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

You chuckled softly, caught up in his excitement. “Really? I thought you had a whole parade of girls wanting to date you.”

“Maybe, but none of them are you,” he said, his voice serious now, making your heart flutter. “You’re special, Y/N. You make me happier than I ever expected.”

You smiled, feeling a mix of shyness and elation. “So, are we officially together then?”

“Absolutely!” Wonwoo exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with joy. “I can’t believe this is happening. You have no idea how happy this makes me.” He leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss, sealing the promise of your new relationship.

As he pulled back, he looked deep into your eyes. “I’m going to make you so happy, I swear. No more casual—it’s all in from here on out.” His excitement was contagious, and you felt a thrill of anticipation for what the future might hold for the two of you.

You walked with confidence in a beautiful dress that hugged your figure perfectly. Wonwoo’s hand rested comfortably around your waist as he strolled beside you, flashing charming smiles to everyone you both passed. You couldn’t help but feel proud of each other, relishing the chance to show off your blossoming relationship.

“Look at this power couple!” your mother exclaimed, her voice brimming with delight. You rolled your eyes playfully at her statement, knowing how thrilled she was about your relationship with Wonwoo after the so-called first meeting she had arranged a year ago. Now, you were here with him as his girlfriend at the company’s anniversary party.

“Good evening, Mrs. Ji. You look beautiful as always,” Wonwoo greeted your mother, bowing politely to both of your parents.

“Wonwoo, how are you? I hope Y/N isn’t being a pain in the ass, is she?” your father asked with a teasing tone, treating him differently now that he was your boyfriend.

“In no way could an amazing woman like me be a pain in the ass,” you mumbled loud enough for them to hear, a smirk on your face. Wonwoo chuckled at the light banter you shared with your parents before excusing himself to meet his friend, Kim Mingyu, who also happened to be your cousin.

“So, how’s the plan for tonight?” Mingyu asked Wonwoo, raising an eyebrow knowingly as he referred to his friend’s intentions to propose.

“I’m so nervous I could die,” Wonwoo confessed, running a hand through his hair, his expression a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Mingyu laughed, clearly amused by the new layer of vulnerability that Wonwoo was showing. “Don’t worry, she’ll appreciate everything you do,” he reassured, clapping Wonwoo on the back.

“I hope so,” Wonwoo replied, glancing over at you with a soft smile. The anticipation was palpable, and you could feel the excitement in the air. With each passing moment, you were both drawing closer to an unforgettable evening that could change everything.

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jinwoosbabyboo · 2 months ago

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Nevermind I'll Get It

How I imagine the LADS Men reacting to you being too impatient to wait for their help. [Requested by: Onliafaze]

Zayne

MC: Zayne can you help me real quick

Zayne: *sending a quick email* Yes what is it

MC: Can you grab my tumbler off the shelf for me I want to drink my tea on the balcony without bugs flying in it

Zayne: Yes give me on minute

MC: Okay

Less than three minutes later there's a loud crash in the kitchen

Zayne: What was that?

MC: Nothing!

Zayne finds you halfway off the counter trying not to step in glass

Zayne: I told you to give me a minute

MC: Yea and then two minutes passed

Zayne: So shattering multiple glasses was a better solution than waiting?

MC: Just help me down

Zayne: I should leave you there to think about your actions

MC: Zayne please!

Rafayel

You walk into the living room and find Rafayel sketching in silence

MC: Raf can you help me bring this box in?

Rafayel: What is it?

MC: A new bookshelf and it's heavy

Rafayel: Yea just give me one second cutie

You leave the room and suddenly Rafayel hears you scream bloody murder

Rafayel: *Rushes to you* What happened?!

MC: I DROPPED IT ON MY FOOT GET IT OFF!

Rafayel: I TOLD YOU TO GIVE ME A SECOND!

MC: AND YOU TOOK FIVE!

Rafayel lifts the box off your foot and moves it so it won't fall on you again

Rafayel: *Inspecting your foot* Two seconds if you would've waited two more seconds

MC: I thought I could carry it on my own

Rafayel: Thats what you get for thoughtin' now look at you *holds your foot up*

MC: *pouting* Put some pep in your step next time

Rafayel: At least I have feet to step and put pep in … you almost lost your toes being impatient

MC: I know you're not talking you are literally the most impatient person alive

Rafayel: That's beside the point

Xavier

MC: Xav where's the step stool?

Xavier: I think Jeremiah still has it

MC: Well can you come grab this wine glass of the shelf I don't feel like climbing the counter

Xavier: Yea give me one second

MC: Nevermind you sound busy

Xavier hears the sound of glass shattering and your cry of pain.

Xavier: What happened?

MC: The glass slipped out my hand when I jumped down and now I have glass in my foot

Xavier: Why didn't you wait for me?

MC: You sounded busy

Xavier: I'm never too busy for you wait for me next time

MC: Okay okay whatever please get this glass outta my foot

Xavier: *Scoops you up off the floor* Alright does it hurt?

MC: No it feels great I wish I could have glass in my foot all the time yes it hurts!

Xavier: No need for the sarcasm you did this to yourself

Sylus

MC: Sy can you come get Mephisto off my vanity he keeps building a nest with my stuff

Sylus: Maybe he just wants to feel half as pretty as you

MC: Come get him before I dismantle him

Sylus: I’m coming sweetie give me one minute

2 minutes later....

MC: ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!

Sylus walks in the find you chasing Mephisto around the room

Sylus: What’s going on.

MC: I tried to scoot him off and this bag of wires cracked my concealer in half and got it all over the place

Sylus: He doesn’t like being pushed

MC: How was I supposed to know that?

Sylus: You would've known if you had given me a minute sweetie

MC: I gave you one and two minutes passed after that so that’s not my fault….

Sylus: *Raises his brow and smirks* and what did we learn from being impatient

MC: That my concealer is not Mephistos color

Sylus: No.

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #sylus #lads #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #lads rafayel #lads xavier #lads zayne #lads sylus #lnds #lnds rafayel #lnds xavier #lnds zayne #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace rafayel #nikaaaaimagine

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the-artsy-spot · 2 years ago

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Personalized mousepads, shadow boxes, wine glasses, tumblers, clipboards, ornaments, pet bowls and more. Our popular "In case of emergency break glass" shadow boxes make a great gift for anyone and a funny conversation piece. The personalized dog bowls are a perfect gift for a dog owner. The personalized photo ornaments and mousepads make such a special gift for a friend or family member. These are just a few of the gift ideas.

#personalized gifts #shop custom gifts #custom printed gifts #printed mousepads #printed shadow boxes #printed wine glasses #printed tumblers #printed clipboards #printed ornaments #printed pet bowls #the artsy spot

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samodivaa · 9 months ago

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permeated by jealously

Paring: Bucky x Reader

Summary: In your tight-fitting red dress, you look ravishing for the date with a Russian guy—but the moment you retort to Bucky in Russian, it begs to be ripped from your body.

Warnings: smut, angst, kitchen sex, rough/possessive, unprotected p in v, miscommunication Words: 4k

Bucky's veins are full of the serum, but at this moment, they are full with belladonna tincture, the substance of jealousy. Seeing you with another man, he speaks of Love in the past tense. The scene that plays in front of him—that guy coming to pick you up from the compound, is perfectly adapted to a temporal phenomenon: distinct, abrupt, framed, already a memory. For a split second you stare at each other, you smile at him ruefully. A fleeting, lasting moment for Bucky. Why do you even notice him? Seeing you happy, gives mixed colors to the air of the moment—he is lost in time, sleeping being his only lover.

Bucky wants to kiss you. Instead he puts his lips on the tumbler glass, pretending that it is you. His t-shirt is unbuttoned at the top, and he runs a hand through his hair before he puts the glass down on the kitchen counter—flashes of you in that dress that you wear for your date and the way it lifts your body up from a single look races through his head.

His cock jerks and he shakes his head, grinning as he stares down the bottle of vodka next to his cup.

And, for the first time in his innocent and confined life, he senses in himself a potential for a different corruption that takes his breath away. He doesn’t blame himself. He is a curious, wanting thing—finally, enlightened and free, but also lustful and carnal. But It stabs at him, almost like a physical pain, and he feels both deprived and angry, deprived because Bucky wishes to be with you and angry, because his own choices causes him misery. ----- “It is almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare, you're so relieved. I just wake up into another nightmare."

"And what is that nightmare, Bucky?" He keeps his blue, lusterless eyes fixed on Natasha with a calm but warm and kindly expression in them as he thinks how to say it "My love life” “Maybe you need to ask her on a date, that’s what Vladimir does”

“Vladimir? Oh , so it is not just 'that one guy' anymore?” he says in a quiet voice, without a trace of irritation, with a note of the simplest curiosity, his lips quivering as a forced smile comes on to his face. Nat momentarily startles. Then she starts to laugh. “You’re jealous of him?”

He clenches his jaw. “I’m not jealous,” a note of personal affront creeps into his voice “I don’t like his name” ----- You are on a date, having fun—but anxiety grabs his mind, it is self-perpetuating. Worrisome thoughts reproduce faster than rabbits, he is trying not to lose his balance. Not yet. Especially when the jealousy sets in.

Bucky is conscious every moment in himself of many, many elements positively swarming in him, ah these, opposite elements. He knows that they have been swarming in him since you started going out with Vladimir and they are craving some outlet from him, but he doesn't let them, would not let them, purposely would not let them come out, because he believes there is nothing so self-destroying, and so despicable, as his jealousy. He tries to appear as a hard shell on the outside when you finally enter the kitchen at 1 am—while there is a runny mess on the inside as he tenses, waiting for you to say something, anything. When you near the sink, your fingers find the curve of the faucet, the metal cool beneath the touch. He turns around to lean against the counter as you pour a cup of cold water. Bucky stares hard at you, watching you take a long drink then he follows the flick of your tongue over your bottom lip. His heart stumbles a beat. He is in such an irritated frame of mind, because of your quietness that in rude and abrupt fashion he blurts out the words: “You must love that dress”

He takes time persing down the length of your body as you take a step back, watching you press against the counter and then back up before locking on your eyes again. You are not wearing a bra and your nipples harden from having his eyes on you. Red, the front needlessly too scandalous—at least for Bucky. The dipping v lets him see the swelled sides of your breasts pushed up and together. Just to be sure, though, a golden necklace with a teardrop pearl at the end, letting it trail just over your cleavage.

“I didn’t know that you notice what I am wearing when I go out”

You answer, trying to look as innocent as possible. The vindictive smile that stretches on your ruined lipstick sends shivers down Bucky’s spine—did you make out with the guy, maybe more than that? You look beautiful sitting there looking at him like a she-cat. All he has to do is look at you, and he lusts. He wants to take off that delectable dress and make love to you until you don't have the energy to go out with anyone else ever again.

“You’ve worn it for the second time. For your date.”

His gaze drops from your eyes, to the swell of your chest. Your chest tightens and you bite your lip to hide the grin wanting to escape. You notice the disgust written on his face and you laugh coldly, gaze never leaving his buff frame. With the certainty that you have well and truly punished him for not asking you on a single date. The angry, feral part of you feels so close to the surface that you can almost scent its blood-clotted fur. You want to lick the scratches you’ve made on him. You want to scratch him until he breaks apart. You gulp down the rest of your water to ease the heat flaming across your skin. Then you lick your lips. His gaze tracks the movement. You think you stopped breathing.

“His name is Vlad”

An audacious expression plasters on his face as you sigh in irritation at Bucky, rolling your eyes. Bucky is still leaning against the counter and rests his metal hand on the countertop while sipping vodka from the mug in his other hand. A beautiful yet deadly ornament—vibranium has no business being as hot as it is on him.

A note of personal affront creeps into his voice “Vladimir, mhm”

“What else have you noticed about me?” your grin becomes a touch leery, innocently cocking your head to the side.

“Try me” he says softly.

“Favorite color?” you ask, interrogatively.

He chuckles “Red”

“Favorite quote?”

Your brows lift, anticipation making your nerves sing. You are not sure what he is about to say, but you have the feeling that it will be the right one, your heart leaps at the thought.

“Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid” he answers, this time winking at you “I know everything about you, sweetheart” he adds and you feel like smacking that stupid grin off his face.

His mind works well when it comes to his work as an avenger, hovering on hummingbird wings, but when it comes to you, especially when you purposely play with his jealousy, It finds a way to push through any seal of his mind, his expressions are always an array of masks he uses to cover it up his emotions—but now, it is all over his face, pure surrender, because he is affected and you can tell, he is staring impudently at you, awning for your response.

“I prefer kotyonok. Vlad says that cognac and wine is all for the heart and that vodka is for the soul. If it's hurting real bad and you’ve never had vodka before”

His brows lift, because this does surprise him and his stomach tightens at that particular Russian word. His mouth curls into a small snarl at the thought of that stupid man calling you that. A pang of jealousy surges through him. The bad kind. The kind of longing that makes him wonder that there must be a natural comorbidity between sexual appetite and sexual jealousy, between the desire to fuck and the desire to kill. He clears his throat, his face souring before his mocking tone grates:

“Looks like you know a thing or two about me, too”

He is trying to not be overcome by emotion. Emotion is the art of breaking hearts, minds, and tongues―but jealousy is too much, even for Bucky. He settles back into himself, shaking whatever momentary emotion flitted over his face and replacing it with a confident aura that screams laid back and in control as he cages you to the counter, his flesh hand still holding his half full cup. Your throat gurgles slightly, looking at the bigger frame towering you through your lashes like the starved woman you are. You are overwhelmed by his bold move, leaving you both speechless and breathless, but even then it is important to identify the correct emotion here—lust, a longing that goes on a loop. You try to ignore his hard cock pressing against your thigh, your attention remains on his face. You feel drunk without a drink, your nerves tighten, making your muscles clench―this is going exactly how you want. You want him to kiss you. But you make sure to keep your facial features mundane and level. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to think you have a crush on me, Bucky” You also ignore the annoying, visible blush on your cheeks, he must have noticed it because his expression goes grim for a second before a surprised laugh almost breaks free from his lips, responding only by a clink of his tumbler against yours. Judging by the rumble that vibrates in his chest, he likes your reaction, though the noise ends on a cynical note. His blue eyes drop to your mouth, warmth pours through your body and you moisturize your lips as he presses his knee between your legs. Right against your clit—you breathe out, a wave of pleasure sliding down your spine while Bucky just tips his glass back the last of vodka, allowing the burn to sear his throat and warm his stomach—while casually grinding his leg slowly against you, creating a sensation that has heat winding through your core and shooting down your legs. “Na zdorovie” (cheers) You smile venomously with a kind of joyous sigh, your arrogance in this moment makes you feel very confident. Up to this moment possessiveness has not been that much of a torment, now it suddenly gnaws at his heart. As in slow motion, he pulls back to put both glasses on the counter. He realizes that you do something to him. Every time. It’s your only detriment this past month. To step on his heart—to test his feelings for you, and his jealousy already has made him erupt like a volcano. He has never been jealous before he met you. It burns. Some nights, watching you go with other men on missions, even that drives him mad.

“You and that fucking mouth, kotyonok” His voice sounds ill-natured, bitter, politeness that would only be laughed at, restraining an unruly nature, wary of the ways that you are trying to provoke him, but his tone shifts at the last word. Voice warm and low. Intimate. You like it this way. You like the way it sounds and it makes you gasp. “You like this, don’t you, pretty girl?” Your character has absolutely changed. It is an entirely new and hitherto unknown being who now stands and stares at him somewhat lovingly. There is evidently, he concludes, something at work here, some storm of the mind, some paroxysm of emotion which he won’t question. When you say nothing, his hands move to your waist, his vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire. You let out a deep breath and can’t deny the strange elation you feel when you feel his hands, needing more of it, of his touch. Your pussy contracts as his hands reach around, gripping a handful of your ass, forcing you harder against his both body and leg. The grip is both bruising and possessive, controlling every movement. “Oh, god-” You open your mouth, and Bucky dips down, catching the moan with his tongue. Satisfaction sparks in his irises and he tilts his head and keeps watching you with those fucking lethal eyes of his. Bucky gives a small grin, a fake one. The type that shows no teeth and barely lifts at the corners. You feel a very small spark to your ego, knowing you are getting a rise out of him. But all of the playfulness in the air drowns beneath the intensity of his thousand shades of blue dancing in his eyes as if he is peeling back your mental layers, his eyes looking down watching the bare length of thigh that shows through the slit in your dress.

“You and these dresses” he groans. Whether you want to admit it or not, physically, this man affects you more than anyone else ever has, and that causes panic to percolate through every nerve, you feel like you are losing control, but you don’t mind it. You feel vulnerable, exposed, almost at his mercy at this point. Jealousy isn't a pleasant quality, but his jealousy is combined with modesty and there's even something touching about the filthy words coming out of his mouth. He wants you—and finally, he is not afraid to both tell and show it.

“Ya ne mogu vyrazit', kak sil'no ty menya zavodish'” (I can’t explain to you how much you turn me on) Your lips part and you swallow audibly while he has the most delicious visual of his dick slipping between them, your eyes staring up at him in surprise and that sweet tongue running along the shaft. He surges forward, your face is an inch from his when you breathe out, he breaths in before crossing the final, tiny gap and pressing his lips to yours. It is not a sweet kiss. It is hard, demanding, and possessive, borne out of weeks of pent-up frustration and tension. His mouth is hungry and insistent, his tongue probing your lips, asking for greater intimacy. You grant it, tongues swirling together, yours follow his when it retreats and tasting his in return. When he finally pulls back, he rests his hands on your hips, and stares into your eyes for a minute.

“Tvoy zapakh s uma menya svodit” (your scent drives me crazy)

He speaks without haste, controlling himself so well, yet there is something in his voice, determined and euphoric, resentful and insolently defiant. Passion smolders in his eyes as he traces the line of your clavicle with his index flesh finger, pausing for only a fraction of a second. And then you become aware of all the magnificent silk wrapping around your body, you have the feeling that you might drown in his eyes, his two drops of winter rain. “I would love to make love to you, but not tonight” He studies your face, pleading silently for your approval, searching for the smallest sign, the slightest movement of your brow, the vaguest reddening of your cheeks, the surprise of your eyes. At that moment, your soul clenches as well as your pussy. The hard dick still pressing into you distracts you from replying. You can feel your panties dampening. And your nipples are suddenly incredibly sensitive, aching as they pucker against the material of your dress. Your chest warms, desire winding like a rope around your core. You think you like Bucky this way. A smile shows on your face. This would be invisible to any, but the closest scrutiny—Bucky has noticed it and taken it for his sign. Then he leans forward and presses his lips once more, his sugar roughness, his possessiveness is what you need to finally feel. “What did you do when you went out?” “We had a few drinks. We danced.” you reply, thinking it best to speak the truth at once. His lip quivers slightly, forcing himself to seem calm, but Bucky’s eyes are sparkling irefully, there is no doubt in his expression the full success of your endeavors to make him even more detested. “You danced with him?” he asks, with sudden vivacity. “Well, he is my date” You murmur, trying to smooth away all disquietude on the subject, you sense a physical weakness by the violent, unequal throbbing of your own heart, which beats visibly and audibly under the excess of agitation—but before you can even manage to open your mouth again, his metal fingers grab the front of your gown and pull it until it tears, no matter how beautiful, it was meant for another man—perfect breast on display just for him, his cock pulses at the sight. His touch tickles you on his way up to your boobs, skirting over your ribs before fully cupping them in his palms. “Tony’s rules include no sex in the common areas” “Fuck the rules” he grits out, more animal than you have ever heard from a human. And then he gives you a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet—with the filthy touch of his hands, that unexpected warmth rushes through you. His thumbs run over the hardened peaks, making you moan and his dick is so stiff that he is worried that he might come. “Ty moya” he says coolly. (you are mine)

He leans in, his voice a rumble in your ear. “Moy kotyonok” (my kitten)

Bucky moves, gripping the meat of your thighs before he spins you harshly around and bends you over the counter. Your walls are squelching around nothing as you feel him pull back, murmuring something in Russian, it is sinful—and pleasurable, drawing a muffled whimper from your mouth as you hear him tear apart your panties. You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you hear his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs before pressing his body against yours until every inch of him melds into you one more. Bucky’s metal hand grips your chin and forces your head back while the other closes around your throat as his cock presses against you—chills slide up your spine, arousal sending a shot of adrenaline through your center as you feel pre-cum on your naval. Fuck, he is huge. There is a certain satisfaction in manhandling you into this position, the flesh arm tightens around your nape, holding you close to him.

"How about we make a deal? You wear dresses for me and I take you out on dates?” He rambles against your ear, tongue slipping out to taste you, just a little bit. His cock nudges around your ass cheeks, to your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead with his metal hand, gliding through your delicate folds and returning his cold grasp around your chin. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you with ease, your wetness sucking him in, making it easy for him to thrust into you until he buries himself to the hilt. “Fuck, you feel good”

Bucky moans quietly as his eyes close, focusing on feeling your cunt wrapping around his dick for the first time. His lips stay silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands hold, the way he fucks you. You want to see his face, but you can only imagine how perfect he looks.

His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind. It is an igniting feeling to have so much control over your body. It is sick and twisted, he has long learned to run from what he feels and wants, that's why he has nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control. And he needs to take control over something for once in his life. You. He has lost control over everything, even the places in his head. When your moans become too loud, his hand closes around your neck, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. His growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length.

“Come for me, drench my dick”

He whispers, fucking his cock against your cervix. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath as you struggle to breathe. Jealousy…teeth dragging against your skin, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples, shooting up and down your spine as his thrusts never falter, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb.

Lust is the best of all the deadly sins, you realize as he pulls out and helps you go back on your shaky feet. It all happened too fast. You only wanted a kiss. You push his chest like you want him off of you, but your fingers have Bucky’s shirt clutched in them and he knows you are full of shit. You want him.

“I wish I could say I felt guilty for what I did. I don't.” The timbre of his voice goes into that low register that makes your insides curl in on themselves. You want that tongue to swipe your sex like licking the frosting off a cupcake. It is the sexual chemistry you want more of. It is electric. But guilt sets in. You are feeling torn between your commitment to building a relationship with Vlad while engaging with Bucky, in a way it feels like cheating. A part of you is hoping someone from the team would wake up and catch you, so you wouldn't have to live with this lie. But no one wakes up and in the silence that follows, you understand the nature of your new curse: you are going to get away with it. Your silence hurts him, his mouth tightens. But there are some wounds that he can heal only by deepening them and making them worse. And yet, sometimes facts are no more than pitiful consequences, Bucky knows how the public will perceive you if you are dating the former Winter Soldier. Seeing you standing there unresponsive makes him realize that silence has a sound—he knows that you regret sleeping with him. You are the people's favorite Avenger, the one everyone look up to with admiration and reverence—he is sure that you are thinking about it, but he understands. The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put his finger on—and he should be sad, but instead, he feels nothing. He feels a lot of nothing these days. He is empty, as if whatever makes him feel and hurt and laugh and love has been surgically removed, leaving him hollowed out like a shell. This is for your happy ever after, Vlad might be a stupid Russian, but he is at the very core of his existence—a real human. He turns around and paces the room, as if he can leave his regret, you, behind. But it cracks you as you see him walk away, leaving you naked like an ugly shadow made by himself. You have mistaken his lust for love. Regret. It turns into anger, into hatred. And where there is anger there is always pain underneath. You eventually come to understand that in harboring the anger, the bitterness and resentment towards Bucky who has hurt you, you are giving the reins of control over to him—maybe It’s time to finally say “yes” to being Vlad’s girlfriend.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky imagine #bucky x female reader #x female reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #winter soldier

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acciojaeyun · 9 months ago

Text

under the web | p.sh.

PAIRING. officemate!sunghoon x fem!reader

SUMMARY. there's something about the way people seemed to scurry about whenever park sunghoon from the IT department would be coming to whichever area of the office. that's something that would be all because of you, his lovely officemate. your constant teasing and mockery of that one thing you know about park sunghoon made it seem to reach the headlines, and park sunghoon was determined to let you know that you're not the boss here.

CONTENTS. smut, some angst, some fluff. smut with plot. not beta-read. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

SMUT WARNINGS. making out, humiliation, implied dom vs. dom dynamics, dirty talk, slight exhibition, curses, virginity, unprotected sex (please practice safe s), reader is a jealous menace (a bit stalker-ish), mentions of manga, mentions of other members, if i forgot some, lmk!

WORD COUNT. 4.1k

AUTHOR'S NOTE. this will be my first ever sunghoon fic after a long while! i did take a hugeee slump after writing ( and had never been so inspired to write oneshots until now. and i'm such a sucker for glasses hoon and this is the product of it. thank you so much for reading! <3

MY LIBRARY. REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

It was an annoying morning.

Or well, for you, it was annoying. For you had to witness a group of interns gushing over the "guy with rolled sleeves and glasses making his coffee," and you scoffed when they mentioned that he looked like an Americano drinker, which, in their words, made him more attractive.

You rolled your eyes, the guy that they were talking about never liked Americano. In fact, his black instant coffee had the same amount, if not more, of cream added to his stainless steel coffee tumbler.

How did you know about that, though?

One thing about you was that you knew Park Sunghoon very well. He was the Class Salutatorian of Batch 2023, bachelor's in Information Technology. It was pretty impressive, if you were to ask everyone else. Park Sunghoon was immediately hired by the company that you are working in, and while you can say that Sunghoon did deserve both the position and the benefits, you couldn't help but feel like he didn't deserve the attention men and women alike were pouring him.

Of course, if anything, it should be you showering him attention. But, you wouldn't do that. Not when you're Y/N Y/L/N. You're the darling of the company, the sweetheart, so to speak. Because even though you cannot be of the same level as that of talent, knowledge, and skill which Sunghoon possess along with his looks, you were a pretty hardworking person.

Being in the Marketing Department also had its hardships, and while you still pray for the day commoners stop shunning down your bachelors, you are able to supply yourself with your needs and wants just by exerting everything you've learned in business and people-speaking.

But there was something about Park Sunghoon that makes him your own thesis.

Your own skill in building relationships didn't seem to work on him as much as you had hoped. Okay, let's admit it, you had taken a liking into Park Sunghoon. The quiet IT Specialist that exuded looks that were enough to make women fall to their knees.

A little bit of chit-chat here and there, some subtle glances and light touches, you were still far from the starting line. Park Sunghoon still hadn't reciprocated at least a fraction of your advancement towards him.

And by now, you're almost as helpless as it could be as you're munching on your own lunch, eyes over the cubicle of the IT department, watching how Sunghoon eats his sandwich, gaze never leaving his computer as he typed in codes with his other hand.

"How's the thing with Mr. Cold guy doing?" Sunoo would nudge your side as he caught you staring at Sunghoon for the nth time today.

You rolled your eyes for the nth time today as well, "He's so annoying."

"Now, he's annoying? Please, Y/N, cut yourself some slack. You need to get humbled, too, you know?" The blonde boy laughed as he sipped on his coffee.

"I just don't know how he hasn't caught up on it yet," you groaned, stabbing your fork on the penne pasta that you had on your lunchbox, "I've been doing a lot! How come he's still oblivious!"

"That, or he knows and just doesn't want to do anything."

You furrowed your eyebrows at Sunoo, "What do you mean?"

"Please, you're practically throwing yourself at him, it's a miracle how he hasn't caught up on yet."

"Or, he's a virgin."

Sunoo laughed, "Maybe,"

A loud thud on your desk was heard throughout the department as you placed your lunchbox down, "I'll talk to him."

"Again?" Sunoo looked at you, bewildered. "And, while he's working?"

"What, can't he handle a little distraction?"

"With you almost pushing your boobs towards his face? I think not."

"You know what? Fuck you." You flipped your best friend off, making him laugh as he ate his tteokbokki happily, ready to see you in your downfall yet again.

You, on the other hand, were determined. Straightening your slacks and blouse, grabbing your laptop, you made your way over to the IT Department, greeting everyone along the way while making a beeline straight to Sunghoon.

"Hi," you greeted.

Sunghoon hummed, his eyes still not leaving his screen.

"I mean to come to you to help me with a feature on the application that we're using?"

The boy glanced at you, his chewing coming to a slow halt.

"What about it?"

"Oh, I was hoping that I can access the Network's files? I've forgotten my flash drive at home and I only have access to some of the files but it would be in Sunoo's disk."

Sunghoon flashed you an impressed look at your terms, at the bare minimum.

"It'd be against company policy to allow you to access other people's disks without their consent, Ms," Sunghoon cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "and besides, aren't you friends with Mr Kim, anyway? Why wouldn't you ask him directly?"

"Uh, well..." you trailed off, "well, Sunoo also has the copy of this file on his flash drive, and coincidentally, he has also forgotten it at home!"

The boy raised an eyebrow at you. He was not buying it, you thought.

But your thoughts were proven wrong as Sunghoon swivelled in his chair, clicking on the multiple tabs open until he had manipulated the system for the time-being upon your request.

Your hands glanced on his hands, so dainty, long, and pretty. You wondered how it would feel around your neck, or in your pussy.

"It'll be open only for your access, Ms," Sunghoon said, looking up at you, "I'll be resetting it to company's default after forty-five minutes. Would that be enough time for you to get your files?"

You nodded, "Yes, thank you,"

"Do you have anything else for me to help with?" Sunghoon looked at you with a raised brow, making you blush.

"N-No, not that I know of, thank you, Sunghoon," you smiled at him.

He merely nodded before opening his coding software, clearly blocking you out from all his senses as he returned to eating his sandwich and work.

You pursed your lips, inhaling a large breath as you excused yourself from his cubicle, greeting yet another group of people acknowledging your presence as you made your way out of their department.

You were not expecting what you are seeing.

Not at all.

Whatever it was, there seems to be a glitch in the system as you also had an access to Sunghoon's drive.

You see, it was not your fault you were a bit nosy over your crush. You had taken a liking in him, and maybe, you think, there may be some stuff about him in his drive that could let you know a little more about him.

If not him, then, maybe, technology, his trusted friend, could help you.

You've seen his curriculum vitae, all the data he's working with, his clients, as well as a folder of his personal stuff which included torrented movies.

You laughed, his degree really has his perks.

You were so close to clicking off the movie folder named "O", but as you clicked on the next folder, named "P," you gasped at the number of porn videos were downloaded into the folder.

And all of them had the same theme: office sex.

It maybe too much, but in your mind, it made sense, when you were noticing how each of the female partners had the same features as you. Smirking to yourself, you glanced a look at the IT Specialist, bingo.

Surprised would be an understatement when Sunghoon entered the pantry as he went through his usual routine: leave his things at his desk, make his creamy coffee, work, leave to buy Subway for lunch, work, leave at 5:30 PM sharp.

He was surprised when the first people in the pantry left as he entered the room, furrowing his eyebrows when he heard faint words such as, "porn," "boundaries," and "couldn't he have had downloaded it in his own laptop?"

Now, Sunghoon may have been overthinking. His quiet life at work was already enough for him. But there was something bugging him for the first time in his life as he placed water in his stainless cup, especially when after making his coffee, no one would even dare look at him as he made his way to his cubicle, men and women, alike, swivelling their chairs to move farther from him, as if he were a plague.

Sunghoon rolled his eyes, it was getting to his nerves.

And if it weren't for Jake, his only friend in the department, who initially swivelled his chair away form Sunghoon, but then decided to swivel back as Sunghoon didn't even stand up for lunch, who told him about the rumours that spread about him, he wouldn't have known, and there was only one person who would have accessed his files.

You.

He snickered at the story Jake was telling him, and left Jake to his imagination whether the story was true or not, only giving him a shrug when the older did try to confirm to him.

"Believe what you want," Sunghoon responded, typing aggressively on his keyboard, "besides, I think you have, since you initially scooted away from me."

"Look, man," Jake scooted closer, whispering, "if it's not true, I could tell it to them, you know? I don't want them to think of you as some horny teenager who doesn't know about work boundaries."

"As if they're going to believe you," Sunghoon curtly responded before pressing a key harshly before looking at his friend, "if it came from Y/N, no one would even bat an eye at you."

"Y/N? Why her?"

"Only she had access to my files yesterday. Wouldn't it be too much of a coincidence if the story only spread now?" He chuckled, amused.

"So, it's true?"

Sunghoon shrugged again.

"Are you going to do something to address it?"

"Address it? What for? They already think I'm some horny dude, anyway."

"Well," Jake licked his lips, "just send me the stashes next time, too, okay?"

Sunghoon laughed.

Your plan was working.

A lot of people had taken their distances from Park Sunghoon. Making you think you're progressing at your plan to keep people away from him.

You can't help it. As long as there were hindrances in your way towards Sunghoon, you think there would be little chances to make your advances to him. You had yet to tell Sunoo, but you know that he was already aware of the rumour, and he would ask you about it after his client events.

So, while everyone had left Sunghoon alone in the pantry, that was your cue to enter the pantry. Making your way as calmly as possible to the counter as possible, you placed your food on the microwave, heating your breakfast as Sunghoon was stirring his drink in his cup.

"I never took you as the guy," you sighed, faking sympathy, getting more annoyed as you never got any reaction from the boy.

"I was expecting more from you, Mr. Salutatorian, I'm sure you know about policy since you were so high and mighty about it when I tried to get into Sunoo's files," you continued, watching his every reaction.

But he remained stoic. And that irked you.

You were about to open your mouth when the microwave had beeped, making you jump and take your food, frustrated over the fact that Sunghoon was ignoring you. Forgetting that it was still hot and you didn't retrieve the mittens beside it, you burned your fingers, finally getting Sunghoon's attention.

He discarded his coffee and immediately went his way over to you, grabbing a hold of your hand before examining your fingers, his eyes never leaving it as he tried to suck on it in attempts of both soothing the wound and seducing you.

Your breath hitched, making you look at him. What the hell was he doing?

"S-Sunghoon?"

He smirked at you as he pushed your fingers to his mouth, wetting your pointer finger with his warm tongue, only for him to retract it and swirl it on the tip of it.

"There's one menace between the two of us," Sunghoon whispered as he pulled away, leaning in to you, "and it's not gonna be you."

You let out a breath you didn't know you held as he pulled away and made his way out of the pantry.

Weeks later, you found yourself mad at Park Sunghoon.

Because after the incident at the pantry, he seemed to be hovering in your space more times than you would like. And while it did seem the best thing for you, it wasn't. For Sunghoon was not only hovering, but he made sure his presence was made known whenever he was around.

Holding on your waist, rubbing his crotch against your bum, rolling his sleeves whenever he knew you looked at him – while keeping his unbothered expression at his face.

Other than that, you were thinking he was losing his game as another person had suddenly took a liking into you. Food in carton boxes at your table by the morning you come in to work, and while you had hoped that it were him, your hopes were shut down as fifteen minutes after you had arrived from work, only had then Sunghoon, too.

Flowers were also hard to miss every week. There was a different flower every week, the whole department gushing whenever you grab a stem on your desk. And while you had hoped it was Sunghoon, again, you looked at his desk and see him in his natural habitat: working and face straight to the computer.

By this time, you had grown infuriated. Because you felt like he was toying with you. Especially when he was not paying you any attention at the Thanksgiving Party your office had held after reaching more than the targeted quarterly sales, and it was because of you! Why wasn't he giving you any attention?

Blame it on the alcohol in your system, and your innate drive to prove something to Sunghoon, a trait of yours that you have acquired overtime, you made your way towards the guy who was alone at the bar, nursing his on the rocks with his finger dancing around the rim of the glass.

"Aren't you going to congratulate me?" you spat, annoyed.

Sunghoon turned on his seat, smirking at you, "For being the best employee?"

"What else!"

He chuckled, taking a sip on his drink, "Congratulations, princess,"

You scoffed, "That's it?"

He grinned, "What, you'd want me to kneel for you?"

You were stunned. "You know what? Whatever, Sunghoon, I feel like I'm just a game to you, anyway."

And maybe that's what did it for Sunghoon, because the moment you uttered those words, you found yourself being pulled by your wrist outside of the ballroom you were in by none other than Park Sunghoon himself.

"Let go of me, Sunghoon!" you said as you tried to escape from his grasp.

But Sunghoon did not budge, he was determined on making you regret what you say. He pushed the fourteenth floor button, the floor where he was staying, and even though it took quite a while to get to the floor, Sunghoon didn't even try to lay his hands on you, it was better for him to do it on his bed, anyway.

Because you deserved it.

The moment the elevator doors opened, you found yourself being pulled to his room, with heavy breaths as he discarded his suit jacket on the couch, he turned around and met you in a passionate kiss, surprising both you and Sunghoon.

Ah, if there was one thing you didn't know about Sunghoon? Was the fact that he was a virgin. He never had any relationships in the past, and it had only been you whom he was very attracted by. So, it was bound to happen, perhaps. Sunghoon giving you his virginity in the hopes of you reciprocating his feelings.

But Sunghoon was a realistic man, of course, he knew that he was just your own entertainment. Having a lot of suitors here and there, he knew he had to step up his game.

That meant, letting you see through his drive because he was scared of doing the first move of asking you out on a proper date, because everyone was always first in doing so.

A few occurrences later, Sunghoon had decided on levelling his courtship up by bringing you food to your table the moment he gets to work. His bag still on his hand as he ordered your favourite meal as he sped placing it on your table before making his coffee.

Sunghoon had started realising that you liked flowers, so he had brought it upon himself to at least give you flowers every week, keeping it anonymous before he finally musters enough confidence to tell you that it was him who was giving you the gifts.

Not Jake, not Jay, and most certainly not Heeseung.

So, he hopes he had translated all of his misunderstood feelings into the kiss, cupping your jaw as he pushes his tongue in your mouth, swallowing the moan that you had blessed him.

"You drive me so fucking crazy, Y/N," he groans into the kiss, "accusing me of playing with you when you were the one who started this in the first place." He trails off, his lips pressing onto your mouth up and down before stopping by the skin near your collarbones for him to suck.

You let out a whimper, too lost in the feeling of his lips on your skin, "You drive me so fucking crazy, too," you start, letting your head fall back to have the boy kiss more of your skin, "I don't know what's on your mind most of the time." Sunghoon had found your sweet spot below your ear, making you gasp.

The boy hummed, wrapping his hands around your waist, pulling your body flush against his, slowly rolling his hips forward so you could feel his hard cock pressed against you, "Well, it's about time you know that you take over the expanse of my mind, princess."

You were already soaking wet at this point, basking in how Sunghoon looked today, you swear you could feel yourself salivating over how he presents himself. You pull his face away from your neck, locking your lips in an uncoordinated kiss. "I need you, Sunghoon."

Sunghoon groaned, kissing you for a moment longer before abiding to his girl's needs. His cock was aching, and you needed him. It was time to cut the chase.

"My needy little slut," Sunghoon growls as he teased you by rubbing your clit over your panties, and when he slid his hands through her folds, he was met by pleasing wetness, making him chuckle, "You've been trying to fool everyone with how much of a sweetheart you are, angel," he hummed, rubbing his nose on the crook of your neck, "but you really are a menace. Wanting her Sunghoon to give all of his attention to her,"

"Y-Yes," You moaned, grinding your hips on his fingers, "M-My Sunghoon,"

And when he motions to remove his glasses, you tap his wrist and shook your head, making him realise you never want his glasses off, making him chuckle.

"You liked hearing it, don't you?" Sunghoon inquires as he pushes you to the bed, pulling you over the edge of it as he bites on your panties, pulling it down to pool on your ankles, "You love the idea of me being yours, don't you, Y/N?" He smiles as he sinks his finger in you, curling as you clench around you.

"Yes, I do - shit, Sunghoon!" You managed to say, "I did everything because I only want you! Only you!"

Sunghoon docks his head in between your thighs to hide the blush creeping to his cheeks before pressing hot kisses into the expanse of your inner thighs, fluttering light kisses as his lips made its way to your folds, kissing it before he gives kitten licks to your bud.

Your back arches, satisfying Sunghoon with his little experimentation. He, then, soon, pushes another finger in as he started swirling his tongue on your clit, alternating between licking his tongue flat from your hole up to your clit, making you thrash your legs everywhere.

He moaned when you clamped your legs around his face, urging him to continue his movements, "M' close, Hoon," you whispered, one of your hands leaving the sheets to tangle in his newly-cut hair, and with one more curl of Sunghoon's fingers, you were already tumbling over the edge, your cries of his name falling from your mouth.

"God, you're so beautiful, Y/N," Sunghoon whispers as he cleans you off with his tongue, and when he was done, he pushes himself up as he unbuckles his belt and removes his trousers, discarding the article at some part of the room.

"I wanna ride you," You confess, making Sunghoon blush again, "oh, are you... is this your first time?" You asked, your eyes widening slightly as Sunghoon replied with a nod.

Your heart almost burst at his confession, making you sit up and pull him into a slow kiss, "I want to see how you'd look so damn sexy sitting on my cock, Y/N," Sunghoon breathes, "but I want- I need-"

"Take your time with me, Hoon."

A breath escapes you when Sunghoon finally gets you out of your dress, his hands immediately pinching at your nipple. And without another word, Sunghoon lifts your leg and lines himself to your entrance. And with a heavy breath in, he pushes in slowly, the roll of his hips feeling delicious until he's fully buried inside you, low moans heard throughout the room.

"I, fuck, Y/N," Sunghoon starts, groaning instead as you clench around him. Sunghoon hovers over you, his arms on either side of your head before resting his forehead against yours so he could look into your eyes, "God, I love you so much, Y/N."

Before Sunghoon ever regrets he had confessed out of nowhere, you had already pushed your lips on his hungrily, meeting his thrusts, you let out a whine as Sunghoon placed your legs over his shoulders, reaching deeper of you, the same time he rubs slow circles on your clit in time with his harsh thrusts.

"God, you feel so fucking amazing, Y/N," he breathes, earning a chuckle from you as you say, "You're fucking me so good, Hoon,"

Sunghoon smiles at your continuous use of his nickname, before his eyebrows furrow as he lets out a breathless moan as he hit your g-spot, making you squeal, "Jesus, I'm not gonna last much longer!" you say, and you were quick to wrap your legs around his waist, aiming to feel him closer.

"Me either, darling," he whispers, "come with me, please?"

And with a few more thrusts, you feel yourself coming on him, your toes curling, back arching, eyes almost rolling at the back of your head, as your nails rake down Sunghoon's back from his nape. Your walls clench around his cock, making him also reach his climax. He cuts your moans as Sunghoon pulls you to him for a hungry kiss as he empties himself in you.

He slows his thrusts down as he helps you come down from your highs, his lips attached again to your jaw down to your neck, peppering light kisses. And sooner, Sunghoon pulls out and rolls onto his back, his arms around your waist to make you roll on top of him.

A silence was heard in the room as you mindlessly traced irregular shapes on the expanse of Sunghoon's pale skin. He feels like his heart is about to explode from mixed emotions, having the girl of his dreams on top of him, his virginity in your hands – but, at the end of the day, he's unsure about your feelings for him.

However, one thing's for sure: you were all Sunghoon had ever wanted and needed, no matter how much the world can prevent him from doing so.

"I mean every word I said," Sunghoon whispers, kissing your hair, a silent affirmation to the thousand words running in your head.

You giggled, "I feel like I'd look good bouncing on your cock, too, Sunghoon."

"N-Not that.." Sunghoon blushed, "I am really crazy for you, Y/N, but you know, we could just pretend it never happened and think this is a one time thing."

"That's so unfair of you," you say, looking up and leaning your chin on his chest, "because I'd rather have you bringing over lunch and flowers every time if that meant having you every day."

Sunghoon visibly relaxed, smiling at you warmly, "So, it's forever."

"It is."

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theonottsbxtch · 3 months ago

Text

TWO HANDS | LN4

an: something a little different while i finish up some wips, i wrote this the morning t8's song came out, beautiful song again. i refuse to elaborate on the end, its just a short thing lolsie

wc: 1,9k

The bass thumped in Lando’s chest as the nightclub lights pulsed in chaotic harmony with the music. Fresh off the thrill of his victory in Vegas, his smile hadn’t left his face for hours, and the adrenaline still hummed in his veins. His crew surrounded him, some already leaning over the velvet rope at the VIP section to take selfies with eager fans, others raising glasses in cheers that melted into the cacophony of the club.

“Here’s to Vegas!” Max shouted, clinking a tumbler of whiskey against Lando’s champagne flute.

Lando laughed, letting the bubbles fizz on his tongue as he leaned back into the booth. His head tilted lazily toward the bar at the edge of the room, a stark contrast to the table’s revelry. There she was.

The bartender’s movements were smooth, practised—a cocktail shaker in one hand, a sly smirk on her lips as she teased a customer on the other side of the counter. Her dark eyes glittered under the flickering lights, and her sleek ponytail swayed with every step she took. She looked like she belonged here, commanding attention effortlessly, the kind of magnetic confidence that could outshine even the neon glare of the Strip.

Lando couldn’t look away.

“Mate, you even listening?” Oscar asked, nudging his shoulder.

“Sorry, what?” Lando asked, his voice distant, his eyes still locked on her. She’d just slid a martini across the counter, and the tilt of her head as she laughed made something twist in his chest. He’d been in the spotlight all night, but suddenly, the only person worth impressing wasn’t in his entourage.

“Nothing. Looks like someone’s caught your eye,” Oscar teased, catching the direction of his gaze.

“She works here?” Lando murmured, half to himself. The answer didn’t matter; he was already sliding out of the booth and weaving his way through the crowd.

When he reached the bar, she noticed him before he could say anything. Her smirk deepened, like she knew she had his attention. “What can I get you?” she asked, her voice smooth and warm, cutting through the noise.

“Whatever you think I’d like,” he replied, leaning an elbow on the counter, his grin just as easy.

She raised an eyebrow, giving him a look that felt like a challenge. “That’s a lot of trust to put in a stranger.”

“Then make it memorable.”

She didn’t break eye contact as she turned to grab a bottle, and he could already feel the heat rising in his chest.

“Long night?” he asked, watching her pour with precision.

“Always,” she said, her tone laced with amusement. She slid the drink in front of him and leaned in just slightly, her expression playful. “But the tips are good when winners roll in.”

Lando chuckled, taking a sip. “You always this charming, or do I get special treatment?”

“That depends,” she shot back. “What kind of treatment are you looking for?”

He blinked, caught slightly off guard by her boldness but finding himself grinning wider. “When do you get off?” he asked, his voice quieter now, as if to carve a space for just the two of them amid the chaos.

She tilted her head, considering him for a beat longer than necessary. Then, she leaned in closer, close enough that he could smell the faint trace of vanilla on her skin. “Three a.m.,” she said softly. “If you’re still here.”

Lando nodded, his heart pounding harder than it had all night. “I will be.”

The hours melted away in a haze of music and laughter, but Lando’s attention kept drifting back to her. Even as the nightclub buzzed around him, the moments he spent at the bar lingered in his mind—the curve of her smile, the way she moved like she owned the room.

By the time the music started to wind down, Lando was back at the bar, nursing what he swore would be his last drink. He was feeling it now, the warm haze of celebration buzzing in his blood. He didn’t care, though. He was waiting.

And then, there she was, stepping out from behind the counter, untying her apron and slinging it over her shoulder. Her hair was slightly tousled now, but she didn’t seem the least bit tired. She spotted him leaning against the bar, and a sly grin tugged at her lips.

“You’re still here,” she said, her voice low, teasing, as she sauntered over to him.

Lando straightened up, his own grin spreading across his face. “I said I’d wait.”

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head as if sizing him up again. “Looks like you earned it.”

Without another word, she grabbed her jacket, nodding toward the exit. Lando followed her, his pulse quickening, excitement surging through him like the roar of an engine on the starting line.

Outside, the Strip was still alive, neon lights reflecting off the polished curves of his McLaren parked nearby. She paused when she saw it, her grin turning mischievous as she traced a finger along the hood. “This yours?”

Lando leaned against the car, folding his arms. “It’s my baby.”

She let out a soft laugh, glancing at him over her shoulder. “You trust me to drive it?”

He hesitated, just for a second, before handing her the keys. “Don’t make me regret it.”

She smirked, sliding into the driver’s seat like she belonged there. “Guess you’re a gambler after all.”

As he slipped into the passenger side, she adjusted the seat and mirrors with the practised ease of someone who knew exactly what they were doing. The engine growled to life, and the faintest shiver of excitement rolled through her. She threw him a quick glance, her grin sharp as a razor.

“Where to?” she asked, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.

“My hotel,” he said, leaning back, his voice almost a dare.

But she shook her head, shifting into gear. “Why go back to your hotel when we can go back to mine?”

Before he could respond, she pulled onto the road, heading straight for the interstate. With a flick of her wrist, she gunned the accelerator, and the McLaren surged forward, the roar of the engine echoing across the open highway. The Strip’s glittering lights blurred into streaks of colour as she weaved effortlessly through traffic, her hands steady on the wheel, her confidence palpable.

Lando could only stare, his heart pounding harder than it had on the track. “You’re good,” he muttered, almost in disbelief.

She flashed him a quick smile, her eyes gleaming in the dim light of the dashboard. “I’ve been driving since I was old enough to walk. My old man ran a garage—taught me everything.”

The way she handled the car, every shift of the gear, every turn of the wheel, was mesmerising. It wasn’t just skill; it was instinct, passion, like she was born for this. The wind whipped through the cracked window, cool against his heated skin, and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning.

“You’re not scared, are you?” she teased, glancing at him as she pushed the car even faster.

“Not even close,” he shot back, but the thrill in his voice gave him away.

She laughed, a low, throaty sound that sent a jolt of heat through him. “Good. Hold on, champ.”

The McLaren tore through the night, the speed blurring the world around them. It wasn’t just the rush of the car—it was her, the way she owned every second, every motion. For the first time all night, Lando wasn’t in control, and he loved it.

When she finally slowed down, pulling onto a quiet side road that overlooked the sprawling city lights, she turned to him, her grin still firmly in place. “So,” she said, leaning back in the seat, “did I pass your test?”

He could only shake his head, laughing softly. “You’re unbelievable.”

She smirked, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. “And you’re not half bad at trusting strangers.”

Lando’s breath caught, the electricity between them crackling like the city lights outside. He wasn’t sure where this night was heading, but he knew one thing: it was far from over.

Her apartment was an unexpected mix of chic and raw, like her—a blend of sleek furniture and vintage touches that felt effortlessly cool. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering city below, and the hum of Vegas seemed a world away from this intimate space.

Lando stepped inside, his gaze following her as she slipped off her jacket and tossed it onto a nearby chair. She moved with the same confidence she had behind the wheel, like every step was deliberate, every motion designed to captivate. And it was working.

“Make yourself comfortable,” she said over her shoulder, nodding toward the sofa.

He settled onto the soft leather, letting himself sink into the moment. His eyes never left her as she walked to the bar cart in the corner of the room. The faint clink of glass echoed as she poured amber liquid into two lowball glasses. The soft glow of a nearby lamp caught the curve of her neck as she tilted her head slightly, considering her choices.

“You always drink whiskey after winning?” she asked, her voice light, teasing.

“Depends who I’m drinking with,” he replied, a slow grin spreading across his face.

She turned, two glasses in hand, and crossed the room toward him. Her steps were unhurried, deliberate, her gaze locked onto his. When she handed him a glass, their fingers brushed, and the brief contact sent a spark racing through him.

“To the kind of nights you don’t forget,” she said, raising her glass.

He clinked his against hers. “To the people who make them unforgettable.”

Her lips curved into a smile, and she took a slow sip before setting her glass on the coffee table. Lando watched her every move, the way she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the slight sway of her hips as she turned to face him fully. His pulse quickened as she stepped closer, her eyes glinting with a challenge he couldn’t resist.

“You’re staring,” she said softly, her voice thick with amusement.

“Hard not to,” he admitted, his voice low, rough.

She didn’t respond, just tilted her head slightly, studying him. Then, with a confidence that stole his breath, she straddled his lap, her knees sinking into the cushions on either side of him. His hand instinctively found her waist, his fingers pressing lightly against the curve of her hips as she settled onto him.

Her lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. “Just one hand?” she teased, shifting her weight slightly to one side, her body warm against his.

He exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on her hip. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

She leaned in, her lips a whisper away from his, her voice dropping to a sultry murmur. “Two hands. I want your hands on me.”

His breath hitched, the world narrowing to just her—her scent, her warmth, the way her voice sent a shiver down his spine. He slid his other hand up to her waist, his fingers tracing the curve of her body, and she rewarded him with a satisfied hum that sent his heart racing.

Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders, her nails grazing his skin through his shirt as she leaned in closer. “You always this good at waiting?” she asked, her tone playful, taunting.

“Not when you’re around,” he replied, his voice thick, his grip on her tightening as the space between them disappeared.

the end.

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