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jjjjisun · 17 days ago

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Karina’s Temptation

AESPA Karina X Male OC | 14283 words

TW: Incest

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‘You can’t choose your family’ is a phrase that means different things to many people. For some, it’s good, and for others, it’s bad, and for Jae, it was a bit of both, especially when it came to his daughter.

There was simply no helping that at 18, Karina had the body that most women and men, for that matter, only dreamed about. Jae didn’t know her exact measurements, but Karina’s mother always said, 'The girl has the smallest waist she’s ever seen, and a bigger chest and hips than almost any woman in the family. She was an hourglass, albeit an incredibly slender one.

Karina had been pegged early by a talent scout for her beauty, and to his dismay, she’d been modeling since she was 10. Some girls blossom and come out of nowhere - Karina wasn’t one of them. Jae sometimes thought she had been born to marvel at.

She was smart as hell, too - smarter than he by far. She had attitude and composure and…The list continued; he loved every little thing about her.

Except…fuck… those pictures of her… She looked like something off the front page of a magazine, but no, that wasn’t even nearly doing her justice. Looking at the recent photos that had been taken of her, Karina seemed bound to travel the world posing for years to come. And why shouldn’t she?

Still… at 18… how did she convince him to let her do this shoot? She’d worn provocative clothing before, but this black bathing suit… it just wasn’t fair. The thing was hardly anything more revealing than an average bathing suit; Karina filled it out in a way that sent any viewer’s thoughts awry.

Jae wouldn’t have 'chosen’ anyone else to be his daughter, but he also wouldn’t have chosen to be so susceptible to the thoughts and dreams inspired by her. He’d tried to broach the subject in a way that didn’t reveal too much about how he felt. Today, he meant to stand his ground and tell her she couldn’t pose for photos like these anymore.

Of course, when he tried to do so, she was sweet as ever to him, naive as she was, and never meant to cause any harm.

“Karina, honey, this shoot is very…”

“Yes, daddy?”

“I just… baby, you’re only 18 and these photos are very revealing… and you’re my little girl!”

“Oh no, daddy… I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to worry you so much.”

“I know you like modeling, and you’re so beautiful, I understand why the camera loves you. It’s just that I love you too, and I would never want anything to happen to you because people see something they want and…”

“See something they want? I didn’t mean for my photos to do that, daddy… do you think that’s how people could react?”

“I have to expect that they will, sweetheart, if only to be protective of you.”

“How do you know, though, Dad? It’s just a bathing suit! I’ve worn one around you a million times!”

Her exaggeration didn’t sound overstated to him - Karina parades a seemingly endless collection of small, perfectly-fitted suits that exhibited her body so often that Jae wondered how he could live in the same house.

Something must have clicked for Karina as she saw her dad looking bashfully at the proofs in his hands. He was almost shaking, and she felt so guilty for causing him such grief. Karina wanted to throw herself at him and smother him with an apology.

She realized what he’d been getting at before. Her daddy might have known how other people felt because…maybe… he felt that way himself.

'Something they want’ - he’d said. Karina was stunned by the revelation, but also utterly flattered by the possibility that her dad might desire her in some way. It was a strange feeling that she didn’t expect.

“Daddy… you know I don’t take these photos FOR anyone else… so that anyone else will 'want’ me like you say, right?”

“Of course I know that, sweetie, but it doesn’t mean I won’t worry about you.”

Karina smiled and blushed. Little by little, an undeniable tingle worked from somewhere deep within her. Like butterflies, it started in her stomach, and she could now feel the sensation searching out, fluttering to her fingers and toes. The way he was looking at her—the way only her father could—nobody else could ever love her like that.

“How about…” Karina thought carefully, “Next time, will you be there with me for any photoshoot I do?”

His daughter caught him off guard with the suggestion. Jae’s eyes met his little 18-year-old’s and searched them for her intent.

“That way you could watch over me and be protective about the kinds of photos they’re taking of me.”

Jae had to laugh at that. Having some input on the way photographers were capturing his beautiful teenager’s perfect body and that sexy little smile of hers did sound like a bit of relief. It also sounded enticing in a way he knew he shouldn’t entertain.

“I’d like that, Karina. You sure you’d be alright with having your dad around with you dressed like that? I’m guessing you’re planning to continue modeling bikinis and such.

The words had a fatherly tone. Karina looked down at the photos and thought about the next shoot she and that photographer had discussed. Putting her finger to her lip and biting it gently, Karina met her dad’s eyes and nodded.

"Yes, daddy, maybe it would even be fun…” She said demurely.

She had felt so sexy during that photoshoot, and though she’d been nervous to show that much skin at first, now that she saw the photos, Karina looked forward to doing it again. Combined with the thought of her dad being there to see her, the tingle she’d felt earlier was turning into a full-blown buzz. Karina felt borderline woozy, looking at her dad and thinking deeply about him.

“Hey, Dad, the company I took these photos for let me keep the swimsuit. It’s so cute; I love it! Do you want to see it? I’ll put it on, and we can pretend like you were there for this shoot since you missed it!”

Her words were hasty and excited. Jae couldn’t make heads or tails of what she was getting at. Why would he agree to this? After seeing the photos, Jae would have preferred she wear nothing but a head-to-toe burlap sack to hide the beauty he’d created eighteen years ago. Why would he allow her to return to that bikini and show off again, just for him?

“Sure, sweetie, if you want to put it on!”

Jae couldn’t believe it. He’d blurted out the words before even pausing to think about it. They just slipped from his mouth, and now that they were out, he couldn’t take them back. Jae saw his daughter’s look of pure joy - a big, beaming smile that only a dad who’d done something to make his little girl positively overjoyed could know.

“Okay, just give me a minute and I’ll be right down.”

It wasn’t until Karina had entirely scampered out of the room, her hips swinging in the pajama bottoms cinched around her waist and tank top scrunched there too, that Jae felt himself take his first full breath. Oh God… as she was walking away, that little grin she flashed him while biting her lip. It was that look, the entire image of her from that smile to the little sliver of skin on the teen’s lower back, to her bare feet, practically hopping her way upstairs - that was what remained under his eyelids as he leaned back on the couch and shut his eyes.

'How did it come to this…?’ Jae thought, bewildered. He hadn’t even intended to bring up the photos, needing to gather himself before doing so. Still, it had entirely happened out of nowhere, and now his little girl was upstairs changing into the same bathing suit that had rendered him speechless before.

'Oh God, she’s up there changing, and when she comes down…shit… I need to stop this now.’

He looked down at the photo of her holding both hands over her head. She kept her beautiful blonde hair, wetted and deep gold, pulled back in interlocking fingers, and the camera drank her in from head on. The look was sweet: a long glare with her lips parted and the lightest smile on her face, one so naive to what her beauty was capable of.

She was slender and yet endowed with the most desired features. At perhaps 110 lbs, she filled out her bathing suit perfectly. Beads of water coated her skin, seeming to meander down the valley her perfect, cradled breasts created. Some way or another, he’d learned her bust was about a 32D, and it had pained him to know, given that his eyes more frequently wandered there to confirm.

The valley between Karina wonderful tits continued, past the crucial piece of string clutching each patterned triangle of black cloth together, to a continuous line down the middle of her abdomen, approaching the narrowest part of her midsection. At about the cute, inward dip of her belly button, it seemed Jae could likely hold most of her waist in both hands.

And then, across an endless stretch of skin that fell before the torturously low line of her bottom…

“Okay, Daddy, what do you think?”

His eyes came off the picture he’d been mesmerized by, finding the floor first until Karina’s graceful little feet came into view. She leaned against the doorframe and posed with one hand ruffling her hair.

Her father traced the opposite path he’d been following on the image, his eyes travelling up his daughter’s perfect, slender legs and coming to rest on her lower body where he’d just stopped short of admiring in her photo.

…ugh… the way the bottoms hugged her impressively mature hips… with that tantalizing 'v’ drawn and pulled taut below by the sleek black bottoms. If he looked any longer, Jae might risk being caught searching the gap between her thighs for an indication of what lay within.

“God, you’re pretty sweetie!” Jae uttered without thinking.

'Shit.’ he thought - maybe he should have chosen his compliments more carefully, but truth won over his fatherly obligation.

She welled up with so much pride that it burst forth from her in a room-brightening smile. Jae felt sure it was a look only he’d ever know, and as he drank in her overall figure, he wished there was more he could keep to himself.

Karina’s steps closer to him were drunk with flattery, one foot in front of another as best she could - as if she were daddy’s private model. When she got to him, she collapsed to her knees in front of him on the carpet. With her long, pretty legs wrapped around behind her, Karina propped up, so naturally and yet so seductively displaying her body for him to consume greedily with his eyes.

“So you like it then?” She asked redundantly.

Karina watched her father’s eyes glance from her, back to the photos on the table, and then back at her again. She didn’t know it then, but he was thinking just how much better the real thing was, and how impossible it seemed that such a pretty young thing as Karina could exist. With all the affection inside him, he hardly knew what about his beautiful daughter he could admit to admiring.

“I like what Karina? I like you. I don’t just like you, I love you, baby.”

Karina frowned and squinted at him - not the answer she sought.

“Do I like your swimsuit?” he asked again, knowingly. Of course I like it, sweetie, but you would look beautiful in anything, so it’s not really a fair question.“

Karina sat back on her feet, stunned physically by his words. Her eyes widened as she gazed back at her dad.

He continued, "Do I like that my daughter is 18 and looks like this?” he gestured to all of her, “and these photos are going to show other people that too?”

Karina waited fervently for his reply, still mesmerized.

“Not so much.”

She frowned momentarily, but seemed content to remember only the compliments he’d paid her. She immediately changed the subject.

“Here, I’ll show you some of the poses from those photos. The photographer said I did a really good job, and that I don’t need nearly as much direction as other girls do!”

She was excited, swaying a little left and right and fixing upon him with a look that was Karina’s signature blend of innocent and somehow incredibly sultry.

“I don’t have the wind blowing in my hair like I did, but you’ll just have to imagine it,” she said, giving her father eighteen angles to admire her.

Her body moved in ways Jae knew a father’s eyes were not meant to see. She could move her lower half independently and exhibited her prowess through several positions that further defined her beauty. Her body, her rotating hips, and the gentle transitions from pose to pose were hypnotic to the point that he had visions of what it would be like to put such incredible movements of his teenager to proper use.

“You’re a natural, honey.”

Karina giggled, “And to think, all of this came from you, right, Daddy?”

Karina had effectively arched her back and afforded her father a generous view of her youthful chest. When she brought her arms together and pushed her breasts toward each other, Jae watched in amazement as they heaved and adjusted within her top.

“I don’t know where it came from sometimes, sweetie,” he said quietly. The words were uttered with little or no consent from his distracted brain.

Did she know what she was doing? She must? Did she know what kind of thoughts she inspired by showing her body to her father so willfully? For the man who had raised her and all along studied her every want and need, he simply could not read her when it came to such a basic thing - attraction.

“Which one do you like the best, Daddy? I’ll do the pose for you!”

Karina threw her long, golden-blonde hair over her shoulder and looked at him expectantly.

'No, you can’t,’ screamed a voice in Jae’s head. Wherever it came from was far too remote, because after the last minute or two of watching his eighteen-year-old model for him, Jae’s brain refused to see the harm in a little more.

“How about this one?” he said, picking up the photo of her standing with her hands over her head and showing it to her. Karina looked satisfied.

Smiling, she focused herself and then slowly got into position. When she arrived, she looked just like in the photo—not soaking wet, but this time with only her father’s eyes there to admire her. Something about the fact that her dad had asked for her for that specific pose heightened the experience for both of them.

Before, it had been a tingle within her. Then it was a buzz. Now, Karina felt almost as if she was meandering through a dream. She’d do anything her dad asked her to… she wanted to appease his every request. Did he know what kind of control he had? Was there some line when they’d eventually reach and stop automatically because any more would be too much?

“They have a kinda coach lady that sometimes talks me through the shoot. She said my waist looks best when I put my arms up like this, but you’ve got to have the right boobs for it.”

It was an invitation to look at his baby’s chest, and Jae took it. 'Oh God, of course…’ his mind relented - her tits just hung there flawlessly. Still, they looked ample and firm.

“So… what do you think, Daddy?”

“About…” Jae asked cluelessly until, “What do I think about your…?”

He glanced down at his daughter’s chest, letting her observe where he was looking, at her request. Karina nodded.

“Karina, honey, I can’t tell my daughter what I think about her breasts, and you know that.”

The perky blonde deflated, giving her dad a frustrated glare and letting her arms fall to her sides. The topic of conversation, her breasts, shook as her posture changed.

“Oh… I didn’t think…I don’t know, you could give me constructive criticism so I can do even better next time.

Jae didn’t know whether his daughter was playing dumb, but her reasoning won him over.

"Oh, don’t give me that look, Karina…” he said, “you’re very… nicely proportioned, sweetie, so I think you look just fine in that pose.”

There was that smile again. Karina turned her demeanor back around, causing her father to doubt her conviction in the evil eye she’d so easily shed.

“There are some poses the coach told me not to do because they’d be… too provocative I think. Can I show you, and you be the judge?”

Jae merely nodded; there was nothing else to do.

“So there’s this one,” Karina narrated, flipping over and sprawling out on her back. Looking upside down at her father, she gyrated her hips around and slowly spread her legs, working her toes into the carpet when she stopped with them sufficiently apart. The sexy teen then lifted her hips off the ground, still rotating them ever so slightly.

There was no other choice but to imagine being on the other side of her, kneeling between her legs, and receiving the beautiful motion of Karina’s body. There was so much to see—the complexity of her curves, the entrancing movement of her hips, and the innocent eye contact she held with her father.

“I think it’s supposed to be a little too suggestive with like…my…” Karina glanced down to where she was holding her lower half in the air, showing her father where she meant with a wiggle, “Well, you know.”

“Yeah… I’m glad I didn’t see that in any of the pictures,” Jae admitted.

“What about now, though, it’s not as bad when it’s only for you, right, Daddy?” Karina asked.

“Sure, sweetie, I guess you’re right, as long as it’s just me.” As he said it, Jae stored a mental image of his daughter, looking up at him and waving her hips invitingly.

“I’m glad you like it. I think you’ll like this one too, then…”

Karina rolled over onto her hands and knees, sticking her butt up in the air. She arched her back first, tossing her hair and smirking at her dad. It would have been a priceless shot if he’d had a camera. But Jae was glad it was his eyes only for this private shoot. His little girl was barely clothed at all and posing just for him. He could watch her like this for hours.

Karina could feel his hungry eyes on her and saw him shift in his seat. She wasn’t an experienced girl by any means - some curious groping and kissing with boys from school - but something about her father’s composure struck her to the core. It was a feeling exponentially more exciting than the one she got posing for the camera. It was the incredibly taboo feeling of being on display for her daddy and only him.

Karina extended to her toes and fingers only on the carpet, sticking her butt as high in the air as it could go, forming a perfect triangle with the floor and stretching out for her father to see her fully. With practiced form, she brushed her nose across the threads of the carpet, rounding out her back as she did - another breathtaking motion she had perfected in her yoga class.

Except the confining sports bra—the one that usually accompanied this motion at the gym—wasn’t there. Karina was simply basking in her father’s admiring eyes and didn’t realize that as she dragged her chest across the carpet, the confines of her bikini weren’t confining enough.

As she came to a fully arched position, Jae saw, in absolute disbelief, that his daughter’s breasts were all but entirely revealed to him.

He was struck with silence.

Her nipples were pale and only slightly pinker than her skin - small circles around upright and sensitive nubs that his front teeth chattered to hold between them… They perched at the perfect apex of each soft globe, poking out at him tellingly.

Perhaps he could have fended off the attacks of her looks, pose by pose, if she had remained fully clothed, but this was too much. What amount remained? Jae stiffened fully within his pants, his disobedient manhood straining against them as his daughter’s bare breasts hung fully within his view.

Karina saw the shock on her father’s face and watched his mouth open involuntarily.

“Oh my Gosh, daddy, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to show you my nipples!” Karina shrieked. “Jeez, I didn’t even notice, did you?”

But she needn’t have asked. Just looking at him, Karina knew he’d seen it all. The flattered 18-year-old fixed her top casually, inspired by the look in her father’s eyes.

“Only for a second, I didn’t see too much honey.”

But Karina knew beyond a doubt that he was lying. She saw the way one of his hands had snaked toward his crotch and was trying to adjust the bulge there without her noticing.

“There, all fixed,” she alerted him once she’d very slowly tucked her breasts back into the bikini.

“Here, I wanted to show you the pattern anyway; look, Daddy.”

Before Jae could protest, Karina got to her feet and approached him head-on. She put one knee down on the couch beside him and swung the other over his lap. It was an innocent gesture, not just that different from sitting on her father’s lap as she’d done many times before. But the way Karina was dressed… they were looking at each other and sizing each other up… It felt different, and both dad and daughter knew why.

Karina sat up on her knees and aligned her bikini top with her father’s eyes. She showed him the pattern on the black triangles of her top—an elegant stitchwork of flowers. One of the flowers was directly atop what he could just discern the outline of beneath, that perfect little bud he’d seen only seconds before.

“I see why you like it, baby, it’s very appealing.”

Karina settled down onto his lap and watched her father wince. She was sitting further back on his legs so she couldn’t get a great sense of the bulge he was hiding, but the further contact was enough to get a reaction from him.

“Do you think I’m appealing, though, Daddy?”

She leaned back to give her father a better view, which he took in gratefully. Karina had never seen her father inspect her in such a way before, but every second his eyes lingered, she loved it more.

“You know I’m not supposed to answer a question like that, Karina…” Jae began, “But I think I’ve already told you that you are… appealing, so do you need to ask?”

Karina looked deeply at him, “I guess not, but I like it when you say it.”

She leaned in, watching her dad’s eyes and the anticipation in them for what she’d do next. The young blonde aligned with his ear and told him softly, “I love you, daddy,” before kissing him on the cheek.

As her breath brushed across his ear and her lips fell on the tingling side of his face, something happened. Karina slid further into her father’s lap, and his hands were helping her.

His teenage daughter let out a sigh. Karina felt that the increased contact below, however incidental, meant something serious. Of their own volition, Jae’s fingers encircled his baby’s waist and slipped down to the small pair of black bottoms stretched taut around her.

Neither Karina nor her father could have said how long they stayed like that. Furthermore, it was unclear which was causing Karina’s lower body to rise and fall just beyond imperceptibly atop her father’s lap.

It was that motion again, just like he’d seen as his daughter did the fateful posing at his feet not minutes ago. Oh God, he could feel it generating beneath his palms… rotating, ensnaring desire slowly building for his baby girl.

When Karina’s breath began to get rhythmically heavier, to the point that he could match it to the up-and-down motion of her hips, Jae panicked. His cock had been throbbing against her, in sync with his young daughter and telling her… telling them both that what she was playing at was entirely possible.

But it wasn’t. This was wrong; he’d let it come too far and fast.

He lifted his hands off slowly, not wanting to alarm his daughter but feeling the forbidden warmth of her skin leave them, like it should have.

Karina reacted impulsively, immediately prohibiting the retreat of his hands with her own and putting them back together on her hips. As they returned, Karina boldly allowed herself to settle deeper into her father’s lap, pressuring his straining member more deliberately. With a sigh that approached moaning, Karina leaned against her father.

“Sweetie, maybe you should get off…” he warned.

Oh God, that was a wrong choice of words, and Karina took them as she wanted.

Karina cooed again, responding, “uh-huh,” with another kiss near his ear and an urge from her hips. They both knew what he’d meant, but when Jae felt the subtle shake of his daughter’s body, he knew she was giggling about his accidental pun.

The smirk he cracked and the mutual humor they shared were disarming. Karina didn’t want to stop, and she’d take any interpretation to stay on her daddy’s lap just like she was. Jae felt the moment when he could have turned things around slip away as Karina broke the silence.

“Is this what you were talking about before, daddy… what my photos might make people want to do?”

“Something like this, honey, but of all people, I didn’t mean me!”

She leaned back far enough to touch her forehead against her father’s.

“Why, don’t you think it’s better you than some random guy?”

“Well, yes, but I was talking about things a father and a daughter are not allowed to do.”

“What? You’re only touching my hips… I don’t mind. Do you mean something else?”

Karina was writhing her hips quite obviously, disguising it by being her usual, spunky self and smiling at him like everything was normal. Jae’s fingers felt more daringly up his daughter’s slender sides, approaching the waist he’d imagined wrapping them around. It didn’t seem possible that such soft, smooth perfection could be achieved in the curve that his palms traced, or that it could belong to his daughter.

“What else did you mean, Daddy? I’m really…really…curious.” The naughty teenager wiggled her hips about to punctuate each word, teasing her father mercilessly.

Jae was speechless at the tenacity of his eighteen-year-old. Once again, she put her hands over his, feeling them clasped at her waist. They both looked momentarily at the tell-tale bulge Karina was relentlessly pushing against. Each passionate word she spoke seemed to erode the forbidden wall between them, leaving only the clothing that separated one act from a far more meaningful one.

“Are you allowed to do this at least?” Karina asked, urging his hands to climb higher. The bumps of her ribcage meandered against his palms as Jae let his little blonde lead.

With a deep breath and the disbelief of her father, Karina quickly covered each of her breasts with his hands. They sat motionless but for the swelling of her lungs while the two contemplated the touch.

“Not,” Jae said sternly.

But he didn’t move his hands. Even when Karina removed hers to put them behind her back and slowly stick out her chest into her father’s grasp, his touch remained. Karina breathed sweetly with relief.

“Mnhhhh…” he heard her utter, “I can’t imagine why, it’s only touching… who says we can’t do that?

Absurd logic… and he knew it, but his hands were already there, and Jae had been longing to feel his daughter’s beautiful breasts since Karina had first developed them. God, they were amazing… his fingers carefully sought to detail them fully. Each mound sat proudly in his cradling grasp, more than filling it out and quivering when he massaged them.

Karina moaned without pretense. She felt her dad’s palms rub the fabric of her bra against her nipples. They screamed with sensation, and she reveled at the position in her father’s lap she’d achieved. The teen smiled widely as she saw how much her father enjoyed playing with her. His approval was all she ever wanted.

"I think you might like them better without my top on, Daddy,” she cooed sweetly.

Allowing her instincts to act on her behalf, Karina reached around and swiftly untied her bikini from behind before her father could even consider stopping her. Nobody had ever seen or touched her without a top, and as she felt the tension release from its grasp, the beautiful teen was ecstatic that the first would be her father.

He surprised her. He recognized that feeling up his teenage daughter was hardly different with or without her clothes on, so he helped her pull the bikini up and over her head smoothly.

Her breasts barely drooped, sitting up proudly and youthfully as only an eighteen-year-old can. Never, not on her mother or any of the other women before her, had he ever seen a more beautiful chest.

“So… do you like them better this way, Daddy? Or should I put my top back on because we’re not allowed?”

“Hmmm… I’m not sure yet, I’ll feel them and decide.

Karina grinned at her cheeky dad, raising her eyebrows and glancing down to ask him what he was waiting for.

His palms returned, and this time the pretty blonde whimpered louder at the direct contact to her nipples. The way he touched her… how he massaged and then gently took each nub in between his fingers with a deliberate squeeze… Her whole body seized briefly, throwing her head back and its shower of golden hair with it. As he pinched her, Jae allowed the two of them to press together firmly at the hips… two intense points of contact and an ocean of expectation between.

"Much better this way, sweetie. This feels good, I’m guessing?” He asked, gently pinching and tugging at her again.

Karina rewarded him with multiple, wonderful gyrations of her hips, “uh huh, I like it better this way too.” She let him touch her for a few more seconds, watching his eyes roam her body as she thought about where they might be headed.

“Daddy…” she whispered, bringing her eyes back to his, “show me what else my photos make you want… please… anything.”

Her eyes welled with desperation and desire. She was hardly old enough to know all that could come of an attraction as strong as theirs, but Jae wondered if he wasn’t willing to show her 'anything’ and everything.

“Karina… baby… do you know what you’re doing to me?”

She knew. She nodded almost immediately, pressing into him and telling her father she needed his guidance.

“I think so, daddy,” she cooed, reaching down between them and running her fingers over his jeans in just the right spot, “but what are you going to do to me?”

Jae had nothing left. No guilt or apprehension, no fear of taking advantage of his little girl. He drank her in one last time, observed the readied look of confidence she was trying so hard to maintain, and made his decision.

“Well, first we better get you out of these,” he said, reluctantly leaving her breasts to the cool air, and placing both thumbs beneath the tiny waistband of the remaining piece of her bikini.

“Mnnnhh…that’s what you want? That’s naughty, don’t you think, Daddy?” she said, teasing him but giving no sign of resistance as she felt her dad press his thumbs into the sensitive and soft skin just below the top of her panties.

Jae lay her backward onto the couch, and the two of them worked together to get Karina fully naked. She wiggled back and forth, helping her father tug the last tiny black piece of modesty down her long, slender legs.

When it was done, the teenager watched her appearance stun her dad for a few seconds. What he did see, between his daughter’s legs, was the prettiest, tiniest pussy he could imagine. The prize he’d uncovered was just the peek of her lips and the pink hue of that soft, shaven skin between her smooth thighs.

“Karina, honey…” he started, causing her to wait for his every word. You just keep getting more beautiful.“

Again, a jolt of excitement wracked her body as she heard her own father comment directly on a place he was certainly forbidden to admire. And if that wasn’t bad enough, what he also saw there was that his naughty little girl was quite visibly shiny and wet all around her perfect, teenage mound.

"Daddy, it’s not fair. You got me totally naked, and you’re still wearing all your clothes.”

She was right, it wasn’t fair.

“Shit, sorry sweetheart, do you want to help me out of mine then?”

Karina nodded enthusiastically and sat back up on the couch. Her dad easily removed his shirt, and while he did, his daughter was at his belt. She saw the way his pants were swelling along the path of what was within, but she’d never seen one up close. How big could it be? It was so long, almost to his waistband.

She took an extra few seconds to navigate the unfamiliar territory of his belt buckle and button, but when she had it, she pulled his pants apart eagerly.

When the two of them finally tugged at the waistband of both his pants and underwear, Karina got a view of what she’d been waiting for. Her father had seen her most intimately, and now what he’d been holding back sprang out from his pants and bobbed fatefully in front of her.

Karina gasped, marveling at his size and wondering what in God’s name he was planning to do with such a big cock.

“Daddy, oh my god… I’ve never seen one before… they can’t all be this big, right?”

“No, I guess not, sweetie. And that’s a very nice compliment to tell a man by the way.”

“What? That my daddy’s penis huge?” Karina tried to keep a straight face, but her feigned innocence broke out into a grin as she acknowledged how naughty her words were.

“Can I please touch it? I don’t even think it will fit in my hands!”

Jae gave her the same look she’d given him before, indicating for her to proceed.

It was his turn to groan this time, for Karina wasted little time encircling fingers around him with both hands. She was right; he looked bigger than ever in her sweet little grasp. Karina looked up at her father as she took hold of him, smiling at the obvious pleasure she was causing.

Her father was so hard and so aroused that his cock was throbbing, and the fact was not lost on the young teen. In her learning hands, she felt his shaft swell, and a clear liquid emitted from the very tip. She quickly touched it with her thumb, rubbing it around his already glossy head, not knowing just how sensitive and intense that would feel to him.

His head rolled around, catching a glimpse of the photos scattered haphazardly about. Jae would never be able to recount perfectly how he’d gone from the forbidden and unspoken dreams they inspired to that moment. But as his daughter spoke her curious words and explored him excitedly, he knew he could never regret what was about to happen.

“What’s this, Daddy? I can feel your cock pulsing in my hands… and it’s leaking out at the tip!”

“Unhghhh… honey… that’s pre-cum, and it only happens when your dad is really… turned on.”

Karina seemed to like that answer, and she repaid him by slowly working her two hands back and forth on his shaft.

“Does that mean I’m doing a good job, Dad? Or should I stop because we’re not allowed?”

The little tease! Her father could see the smirk on her face, and he wanted her all the more because of it. He loved everything about his little girl - her wit, rebelliousness, charm… and today he’d been given a chance to love her physically as well. He wasn’t about to waste it.

“No, it’s okay, Karina, I won’t stop you.”

Again, she was quite satisfied with her effect on him. The blonde’s hands worked more steadily over his wide member, and precum eked continuously from him. His naked little girl was doing a much better job than he’d expected to pleasure her father, and she’d been touching him for mere seconds.

Like she so commonly did, Karina took her dad by surprise, craning forward when he’d shut his eyes and keeping her hands on him while she added a new sensation to her stroking. The warm, wet embrace of his daughter’s lips and the shocking lap of her tongue encircled his tip without warning.

Jae looked down at his offspring, and she kept staring up at him the whole time. She sucked at her daddy’s head; showing him she meant to discover what the clear liquid that had been there tasted like.

He couldn’t take more than a few seconds of that. Unlike any other girl he’d been with in his life, his beautiful 18-year-old had him seemingly seconds from orgasm, and she’d only just begun.

Jae reached down to stop her, “ugh… fuck… wait sweetie… you have to stop,” he said, pushing her back and stilling her hands. Karina watched as her father breathed hastily and closed his eyes. She’d never seen a man so overcome like that.

“Daddy… were you going to cum because of me?”

Still, her father only breathed and managed to look at her.

“You were, weren’t you? It would have been okay, Daddy, I wouldn’t have minded, even if you did it on me.”

A few seconds more and he would have - all over her. The way she was perched, Jae could just imagine white streaks of his semen painting her masterpiece of a body. But with no holds barred, Jae had a much better plan.

“Yes, Karina, looking at you the way I have been, and then how you touched me… you almost made me cum right on those beautiful tits of yours.”

Karina looked down and bit her lip, obviously thinking she’d like that very much.

“I want to take my time with you, sweetie. I want to spend hours showing you every way I know to have sex… and I will…but…”

He had her attention; she stayed perched and waiting for him to go on.

“But right no,w Karina, I want to do the thing we’re definitely not allowed to do.”

Karina blushed as he called her by that name he reserved only for the most special occasions, and it seemed he had saved it for the most significant one. She looked at his erect cock, how it stood there waiting for what would come next and considered what he’d just proposed.

'The thing they were definitely not allowed to do… oh god,’ she thought with a shiver. She’d never entered such territory before, but somehow every part of her was begging to.

“You want to fuck me… now daddy?”

They stared at each other while Jae worked up the gall to admit such incestuous desires to his own daughter.

“I do, baby, but only if you want me to.”

Karina let the moment linger, pondering everything and nothing simultaneously. She knew there was no way she would stop them now, but this was perhaps the most significant moment of her life, and it felt that way.

She nodded, slowly but surely.

“I want you to fuck me too…”

Jae put his finger beneath her chin and pulled her up to kiss him. For the first time, they joined in a kiss that would precede the forbidden act they were both desperately awaiting. Once again, Karina felt passion in that kiss she’d never known possible. Her tongue and his acted as though entwined both genetically and enduringly. When they broke, Karina’s worries were being cradled away, similar to how her father lovingly lowered her to the couch beneath him.

His eyes roamed over her entire body, from her alluring blonde hair, to her youthful breasts, to her long, little legs rubbing together with her feet fidgeting nervously below.

“Daddy, I’m a virgin… You know that, right?”

“Another wonderful thing for a father to hear…” Jae smiled, “Does that make you worried about having sex with me, sweetie?”

“No, I know you’ll be good to me… It’s just…” Karina looked down, widening her eyes as she fixed on her target.

Her father caught her meaning and knew that, however ready she was for him, her tiny frame was still going to need to adjust to having him inside her, and that might cause her pain.

“I know it looks bi,g sweetie.”

“Big!” Karina retorted, “It looks like you could split me in half!”

She was only half-joking, but both Jae and his daughter chuckled once more.

“Do you really think it will fit?” she asked nervously.

Jae eyed her understandingly, “I know you’re my little girl, but your pussy is made to stretch just enough sweetie,” he reassured, “and I made you, so I’m betting we’ll fit together very well Karina.”

She smiled, tickled at the thought. Soon, something ever so close to her opening was tickling her, or rather tapping her impatiently.

Karina shook with surprise. To feel her father’s penis touch her so close… only a little closer and she might have thought it incest. 'Oh my God…we’re doing this…’ she thought.

As he came closer to her, Karina and her father felt his cock lay against her abdomen. Seeing it like that, swollen and throbbing with his heartbeat, Karina’s body quaked at the thought of what it was going to feel like. His cock looked even bigger when she considered that the distance it traveled up her belly button would be about how far it would be inside of her. She couldn’t help finding it appreciative with her hand.

“But there’s one other thing, Daddy…” Karina began; her hand seemed to be feeling her daddy’s cock, searching for something, “you aren’t wearing a condom.”

Oh… yeah… There was that.

“Honey… I haven’t needed those since not long after we had you… So I don’t have any.”

“Well, neither do I, you’re about to be my first, remember?”

“It’s okay, Karina, we can have sex without one, you’re mother told me a while ago she was going to put you on birth control. You are now right?”

“Mnhh… daddy, that’s not fair…” she chastised him as he taunted her with further pressure of his shaft against her tiny mound, “I am on the pill, but my health teacher said you should always use a condom.”

Jae drove against her again, and felt his member wetted as he slid against his daughter’s readied pussy.

“That’s very good that you always practice safe sex, Karina, but I’m your father, so having sex with me is far safer than with boys you don’t know.”

“Are you just saying that because you want to fuck me so bad daddy?”

“No, I’m just saying this ONE exception would be okay. You can have sex with me without a condom, but only with me.”

He knew that rule was ridiculous, but so was the fact that Jae was reasoning with his daughter, rubbing steadily between her soaked little lips. He’d taken hold of his cock and was playing closer and closer to her entrance. A few times, even Karina realized just how near her daddy was to taking a slightly different angle and penetrating her.

Her father’s 'exception’ was a bit self-serving, and Karina knew it. She looked doubtfully at him, making Jae worried she might want them to stop. The writhing teenager furrowed her brow as she tried to keep her wits about her with the stimulation her dad was causing below.

“I’ll stop in a heartbeat if you want me to,” he prodded, waiting a few torturous seconds for his daughter to decide.

“No, don’t stop, Daddy. It’s okay; you don’t need to use a condom.”

Jae sighed in relief as Karina lifted her hips up just enough to let her father know she was ready for him. From the teasing and grinding they were doing, she and her father glistened with clear streaks across their skin. The eighteen-year-old could once again see pre-ejaculate gathered copiously at his tip, thereafter watching it directed expertly against her opening, right where her father wanted it.

“Honey, you know I love you, right? You can call this whole thing off right no,w and it wouldn’t be incest.”

The forbidden word made her shiver with excitement. It was sweet of him to give her every opportunity to be in control of what they committed, but Karina held her father’s gaze, knowing how important her next words were.

“I love you, too, Daddy. I’m ready for you.”

With her permission, Jae watched her face closely, took a deep breath, and inserted his tip past Karina’s taut pink entrance. He felt how incredibly wet she was as it slowly spread her apart. With only the tip, his baby was making plenty of noise.

“Oh god, dad…mnghhh… I can’t believe this… uhhhkeep going…”

Still he pushed forth, and Jae’s bare cock entered his young virgin’s pussy definitively for the first time. Karina turned her head and howled against the cushion, continuing to do so as her daddy gave her another inch. Past the tip, he was wider, and those few inches were just about to push inside her.

“Fuck daddy… wait…OhGoDDdd… It’s so big…”

Jae could only watch his baby cope with the first cock she’d ever felt, but he was able to be eternally grateful that it was his own.

“It won’t fit, Daddy… it won’t! It’s too big.” She grimaced and grasped at nothing on the couch when he pushed a little further.

“Shhh… relax Karina… don’t squeeze too much, it’s already halfway in.”

“Really? Ohmygod, I can’t believe you’re fucking me…ohshitt… are you sure it’s going to fit, it hurts daddy?!”

“I know it does, Karina, but I promise it will disappear. Here I’ll take it out and we can try again.”

Jae began to withdraw, but his daughter quickly reached down and grabbed the base of his cock…

“No, don’t, Daddy; I’m ready to keep trying. I want to be able to take it all… I’m made for you like you said, right?”

He loved her so deeply just then, and as Jae allowed his daughter to urge him deeper, he wondered how he could ever love someone more than her after this day.

Karina struggled and whimpered. It took a few tries to get it in, but at last her daddy came to rest inside a panting and moaning young blonde with his pelvis right against the soft mound of her pussy.

“OHHHhhhmygod… it’s so freaking deep dad…Oh, Ohfuck… is it in?”

“It is sweetie; you did such a good job.”

Jae allowed his baby to catch her breath while he simply savored the feeling of her perfect tunnel hugging him so tightly it consumed him.

“You’re so tiny and tight Karina…ohhgod… your daddy’s cock has never felt this good with anyone before sweetie.”

Karina was finally able to open her eyes all the way again and really look at her dad while he was lodged into her, as far as he could go.

“You’re really inside me, daddy… and you took my virginity…”

Jae nodded gratefully. He couldn’t help his cock swelling as he considered the reality of being his own daughter’s first.

“I’m so glad we did what we’re not allowed to dad… even if you’re fucking me without a condom” she teased.

“I guess I’m not exactly fucking you yet sweetie, this would be more like fucking you.”

He withdrew a few inches and gently slid them back in. Karina cried out, but he could see how hard she was trying to be strong for her father. He knew if he just helped her adjust a little more, he could have her moaning and bucking and begging him not to stop.

“Fuckdaddy… unhh it hurts, but it’s feeling better. Why couldn’t your cock be a little smaller?”

Jae smiled and reached around to grab her backside as he began urging into her consistently. Her perfect little asscheek conformed to his hand as he squeezed it - yet another newfound asset he looked forward to enjoying thoroughly.

Karina took a decent amount of time before her father saw the pain of adjusting to her first cock begin to melt away. It was replaced by a fire in her eyes, a desperation that said she wasn’t sure what sex was all about but wanted so badly for her daddy to teach her.

“Ohjeez…God it feels good daddy…unhhh… it’s so far inside me, I feel like you’re filling me all the way up.”

The way she talked to him, that sweet voice speaking words of incest and lust… it was doing things inside Jae’s brain he’d never encountered before. He felt his daughter’s body against him and could sense, simply from the touch of her skin, all of the features he’d been admiring for years. He kissed her, surprising her with the contact but quickly leading to a full-on make-out session while they came together at the hips.

“Oh sweetie… ughh… I’m the luckiest dad in the world… god, you feel so good.”

Like she was made for it, Karina widened her legs little by little, and her father fucked her more thoroughly. Remembering the first time he was atop her, thrusting away with her legs spread apart and her cries of “daddy” filling the room around them, was a memory that could get him hard in an instant for many years to come.

But for now, as his little girl wrapped her legs around him and took his thrusts so well it made him proud, Karina and her father got utterly lost in each other. Kissing… breathing…groping… they let everything in their lives fall away but for each other - locked together in an incestuous coupling that seemed to conquer all.

And in that coupling, with Jae’s hips thudding against his daughter in breast-shaking and powerful motions, both of them forgot themselves.

With little warning, Jae felt the unstoppable sensation of a shockwave coming from deep within him. He was beyond thinking of changing course. Karina, too, hadn’t even considered that there was still some ability to be safer, even if her daddy wasn’t wearing a condom.

“Oh God, your dad’s gonna… oh Karina…” Jae breathed as his hips connected with her over and over. He felt the teenager’s feet gently urging him from behind - her whole body was clasping around him and begging him to continue. He rolled his hips just right, sliding inside Karina’s pussy while pressuring her clit as well.

“Daddy… I feel…unhhh… light-headed…ohmygod… keep fucking me like that.”

There was no accounting for time when Karina’s father might have chosen to pull out of her and perhaps spray his load across her bare, beautiful abdomen. Instead of that, he felt it well up from within and shoot directly inside her before he even knew what hit him.

Karina, pleasured into the next universe as she was, didn’t realize what was happening until a bolt of warmth filled her even more deeply than she’d felt the very tip of her father’s cock. He had buried into her and something more copious than the pre-cum was spurting out into her teenage pussy.

“Daddy… oh my god… I can feel…oh…oh… fuck daddYYEEE…” She wasn’t prepared for it. She wasn’t ready for any of it, and the quickly escalating climax that Karina had been feeling was suddenly upon her right as she thought a second spray of her father’s sperm inside her.

Jae bucked as he and his little girl clutched each other tightly. She was digging her nails into his back and her pussy seemed to spasm in rhythm with the spurting of semen from his tip. Her cries and the way she needed him so badly were beyond Jae’s ability to describe or comprehend.

They hadn’t discussed whether it would be okay for Karina’s father to unleash a load of life-giving sperm inside her, let alone one so plentiful it could only be meant for his eighteen-year-old daughter. Karina felt her father swell considerably with each pump of his spunk.

After their clamoring and moaning against each other’s lips, the two were silent but for periodic gasps and whimpers. At the same time, they experienced their first orgasm together and then recovered from it. The build-up had been short, but neither Karina nor her father could imagine waiting any longer for the release, which had found them perfectly in sync.

“Daddy, that was… that was…” but even the rambunctious blonde was short on words.

Karina had tried to speak before her breath returned to her.

When it did, she managed to ask, “Is THAT what my pictures made you want to do to me?”

Jae laughed aloud, wincing as the shake made his cock adjust slightly, still buried in his daughter’s pussy.

“To be honest, sweetie, that’s just the start. And it wasn’t your pictures, baby, it was you.”

Karina’s eyes widened, and she broke out a beautiful smile, which he was relieved to see given the circumstances.

“You didn’t say you were going to cum in my pussy daddy…”

“I know, sweetheart… You just felt so good, I didn’t realize I was doing it until…”

“Shh…” Karina stopped him with a finger to his lips, “it’s okay, when I felt your sperm in me it made me cum so hard too daddy… I liked it.”

Karina pecked her father on the lips before continuing to praise him,

“God, I never thought… I didn’t know I could cum like that… it was much different than when I… you know… masturbate.” the teenager admitted.

Jae found it adorable that she would be bashful in the absurd and forbidden situation for which they were both very much responsible.

“I’m glad you liked it baby, because I don’t think I’ve ever cum so hard either, your pussy is perfect, Karina.”

“I think you came… like… a lot, daddy. I can feel it everywhere in me.”

The two of them looked down where Jae was still sunk into his daughter’s pussy. Ever so slightly, her abdomen was mounded along the path of her dad inside her, and they both focused on how incredible it was to feel the very sperm that had made her, along with the cock it came from, now definitively within her eighteen-year-old quim.

“Can I look, Daddy? Will you take it out?”

Not wanting to comply, but also hoping to see his excited daughter appeased, Jae slowly withdrew his cock from her. It seemed to take forever to slide out, but when it did Karina’s young pussy attempted immediately to return to its original tightness.

As Karina’s lips pursed back together, they saw the result of their lovemaking peeking out. Where at first, it was just a bead of thick white; soon an entire glob of semen was emitted, joined quickly by a second flowing from right from Karina’s tiny quim.

“Oh… my… god. Daddy, is that all your sperm?”

“Yes, sweetie, looks like I’ve made quite a mess of you, huh?”

Seeing that look of pure wonder in his daughter’s eyes while she watched his spunk drip out, Jae wondered when he’d wake up from the dream that had been that afternoon with Karina.

The only thing to stop it was a quick motion of her dad, who planted his tip safely below and let the cum coat him as it leaked from his daughter.

“Those could all be my brothers and sisters… technically… right, Daddy? If I didn’t start taking birth control on Monday.”

The naughty little thing, she was rubbing it in…wait…"WHAT?“

"What daddy, I asked if your cum is technically my brothers and sis…”

“No, the other thing, what did you say about your birth control?”

“Oh, that it’s a good thing I started taking birth control on Monday, although I don’t think mom knew when we went to the doctor that I’d be getting it for you!”

Karina saw an alarm in his eyes.

“What is it, Daddy?”

“Karina, I know you always say that I don’t know enough about girl-problems, but…”

He looked down at the cum-coated opening of his daughter’s pussy, at her glistening body and the little smile that she still couldn’t seem to shake, and reluctantly told her the truth.

“Sweetie, birth control takes a few weeks to start working. Didn’t they tell you that when you were there with your mother?”

“Well, yes, maybe, but I was mad at her dragging me there because of ONE boy who she thought I was hooking up with. I wasn’t really listening very closely because I thought it was stupid.”

The reality set in. Karina had been on birth control for a total of two days - far from enough to be having unprotected sex AND taking such a copious infusion as what he’d given her. So he’d just filled his own daughter with an incredible amount of sperm, and the only safe assumption was that she was entirely vulnerable to becoming pregnant.

Karina looked worried… “I didn’t know daddy… I’m sorry… ohgod, and I’m right in the riskiest part of my cycle, I think.”

“Hey hey hey,” Jae quickly consoled her, not wanting to let her go into a panic, “don’t worry at all, sweetie, there are a lot of things we can do. Remember, it’s much safer to have sex with me… because I will always take care of you.”

“You promise… I just… they tell you all these horror stories about getting pregnant and stuff…”

Jae had to chuckle: “I remember those videos—they’re probably still showing you kids the same ones from when I went to school.”

Karina seemed to be looking for something more comforting than that.

“How many of those videos talked about girls having sex with their fathers? Huh?”

Of course they didn’t, and Karina squinted speculatively at him.

“None of them, I guess…”

“Exactly, so let me take care of you then, okay, honey, just trust me?”

Karina smiled, “I do trust you, Daddy.”

This whole time, Jae had noticed his cock’s refusal to soften. As soon as his daughter’s vulnerability entered the mix, he stiffened.

Karina noticed too. “Does your cock stay hard like that for long daddy?”

She reached down to it, feeling its sticky coating on her fingers as they wrapped around his shaft.

“It usually doesn’t do this, baby, it just means I’m still aroused and I still want to have sex with you…”

The revelation stunned her. She was now filled with the incestuous and incredibly risky sperm of her father, and he seemed ready to repeat the very act that could lead to her becoming pregnant with the child of her own father.

“But we can't… not again… right, daddy?”

Jae seemed to consider this seriously. For starters, he had only taken his baby girl in one ofthe many positions he intended to show her for her first time. Secondly, he’d so rarely had the opportunity to go again immediately, and the hard cock she now held in her hand seemed to be daring him to.

“Actually, sweetie, I’m not sure it would be any riskier than what we’ve already done…”

Karina didn’t seem to follow.

“I think we can both agree that all of this,” he motioned, wiggling his tip around the teen’s entrance and disturbing the pool of cum that had settled there, “is about as big as our risk is going to get.”

Again, that puppy-dog look of expectation that she wore so well flashed across her face.

“So… you’d fuck me again even though you know you could get me pregnant?”

“In a heartbeat,” Jae admitted proudly.

“Oh God… that would be naughty, Dad… bad of us.”

But Karina seemed to be simply talking to herself. She continued holding onto her father’s shaft like a comforting toy she needed to hold to feel safe. She stroked it instinctively while her father watched the wheels turning in her head.

“Would you cum inside me again too daddy?”

“I could… if you wanted me to.”

“Unhhh…” Karina cooed. He hadn’t even touched her, but the teen’s body quivered nonetheless. “Oh God… I can’t believe I’m considering this…”

Karina sat up to meet her father and lingered close before kissing him. Somehow, magically between them, Karina had managed to get ahead of her father, and as their tongues met each other’s, Jae’s cum-slathered tip found his daughter’s opening once more.

He leaned back on the chair, letting Karina follow and allowing her to guide just how far inside her she would allow his cock on this second round. Feeling what a sticky mess it was between them, both Karina and her daddy were immensely turned on by the copious remainder of Jae’s orgasm, easing the insertion into her. Again, her 18-year-old pussy resisted him, but an eager Karina was not deterred.

Having his daughter in his lap like this was much better than before when she was still wearing her swimsuit. Instead of moving up and down innocently as she had been, now every movement urged her father’s penis further into her impossibly tight body.

She seemed content to lift a few inches and fall back into her father’s embrace, squeezing her breasts against him each time. Jae allowed her to do exactly as she pleased, and he took the opportunity to explore her body with his hands once more.

Unhhh…dad… I love when you touch me like that…" she moaned.

Jae pawed at her like an animal, his fingers gripping all over her back, at her sides, her hips and resting finally with a handful each of her butt. He spread her cheeks gently as he gripped her.

“Karina…honey… will you do something for me?” Jae hissed.

“Of course, daddy,” she said, slowing her movements and looking into his eyes, “anything.”

“How you were moving your hips before when you were posing for me… could you…unghh… could you do that now?”

Karina thought for a second and then broke out into a gleeful smirk. She nodded, knowing exactly what he wanted.

Jae felt her bottom half begin a different routine. It started as a tiny circle that she drew around the cock that was planted firmly at its center. Then she repeated it, widening the arc and realizing that if she moved just right, she could let her daddy slide in and out of her with each rotation.

Holding her like that, Jae felt his daughter move in a completely unreasonable way; he should be forbidden. To experience it fully, Jae leaned back on the couch and directed his daughter to continue her efforts atop him.

His eyes ravaged her. He watched the entrancing motion of her hips, feeling each sensitive withdrawal and insertion back into Karina’s dripping pussy. He heard the slick, subtle sound of their junction and the incestuous fluids that were combining there. His daughter’s presence enveloped him.

“Like this, Daddy? Unghh fuck… is this what you wanted?”

“That’s exactly what I meant, baby…mnphhh… you’re doing it perfectly.”

Jae mentally noted just how majestic his daughter looked in that position while he watched her for another moment. He tried to experience each sense individually: her moans, the embrace of her young tunnel, the sight of her abdomen flexing with the effort of each gyration.

Karina put her hands on her father’s chest, leaning in to kiss him, but not failing to lift her hips up and down while she did. He moaned into her mouth, and she into his until they broke the kiss, and Karina looked intently at him as she tried to keep her hips moving.

The sight of his daughter’s tits squeezed together by her arms and thrust toward him warranted only one response. He leaned in and kissed around each nipple before taking one at a time into his mouth and sucking on them, or nibbling - whichever he preferred. Karina had no idea just how pleasurable that could be.

In a matter of seconds, Jae felt his daughter’s hips begin bucking a bit wildly. He took hold of them, knowing from the glisten of sweat on her forehead that she might weaken before the full brunt of her orgasm could consume her. With daddy’s help, that wouldn’t happen.

He lifted Karina’s backside for her while still doing his best to keep one of her nipples between his lips. His teenage daughter howled, even attempting to retreat, but he held her tight and refused to stop fucking her until she begged him.

“Daddy…ohfuck… wait… I can't… I can’t brea…unhhhh please daddy please!”

She tried to sit up on her knees as she spasmed, making it harder to thrust fully into her, but he managed. Incredibly, Jae felt wetness dripping from his daughter’s already drenched pussy as he bucked into her, knowing more stimulation would make her orgasm all the more intense.

He wore a proud smile as his little girl came for the second time, feeling her lose control of her body as she cried out and her pussy clamped almost painfully down on him. Karina was the most dangerously beautiful thing he’d ever seen in that never-ending orgasm. When it finally released its hold on her, she slumped down, panting for air and quivering uncontrollably. Jae received her in loving arms.

When she recovered enough, Karina put her palms on her father’s strong chest, feeling his muscles beneath them as she propped herself up and shook back her messy, blonde hair.

“Okay… holy crap dad…”

Jae chuckled at the first words she’d managed in minutes.

“I couldn’t breathe, and you kept holding me and fucking me and then… I think I might have blacked out, Daddy!” She hit him on the chest like it was all his fault. Perhaps it was.

“Maybe that’s all true, but something tells me you kinda liked it… at least a little bit?” he queried.

Karina growled, hitting him with a closed fist on the chest again before cracking a frustrated smile.

“Urghh… yes, I liked it, but you’re still mean.”

Karina curled to look down between them. Her little pelvis was pushed to the base of her daddy’s cock as she rested in his lap. She could see its incredible width spreading her open, and their connection was now further coated with her fluids.

“God, daddy, I’m so wet. Is sex always so messy?” she asked in a way that only an eighteen-year-old daughter could.

“Usually it’s only like this when two people are incredibly aroused, sweetie, but I’m sure that my swimmers from earlier aren’t helping.”

“Speaking of which, daddy… I thought you said you were going to cum inside me again?”

Jae’s brain buzzed to hear her so casually mention that.

“I will, sweetie, I just wasn’t ready yet.”

“Oh, you want to fuck your daughter some more?” Karina asked, moving her hips around ever so slightly to tease him, “Haven’t you had enough of me yet?”

“Not even close, baby, I have lots more things to show you.”

Karina bounced with youthful excitement, and despite the temptation to let her continue doing that, Jae quickly lifted him and his baby off the couch. The beautiful blonde squealed as he picked her up like it was nothing. Ohhh… and the way he managed to keep his big cock deep inside her the whole time… Karina’s body shivered at the feeling.

Jae had never had sex in such a position, nor standing in the middle of the family room. Mostly, he’d never been with such a small, pretty young thing that he could easily maneuver against him. Karina squealed again as her dad manhandled her expertly and she felt his penis sliding in and out of her.

“Mnhhh… daddy… you’re so strong,” she flattered him. He pulled her close for a tangled kiss and humped into her a few more times before moving her to the floor.

“How about you show me that pose like you were before, sweetie?”

“Which one, Daddy - on my back, or my knees?”

“Knees,” Jae stated assuredly.

“Mnhh… okay, Karina said, finally feeling her daddy’s cock pulling out of her. When it was fully revealed, a little 'puff’ of air followed, exhibiting just how tight Jae’s little girl was.

"What’s this called again, Daddy?” Karina asked as got ready once again for her handsome father to fuck her in a new position.

“It’s called doggy honey.”

She giggled. Karina knew what it was called, but couldn’t help baiting her father, “So I’m your little doggy daddy? Arf arf!”

Jae rolled his eyes - hearing that coupled with the way she was swaying her upturned ass was yet another scene he couldn’t have imagined if he tried. Karina felt her dad slowly spread her legs as he knelt between them. His hands came down in a clap on her cheeks, and the eighteen-year-old whimpered as he massaged her, spreading her little lips a few times in the process.

“Are you gonna put it back in me?” She baited him, “Your little puppy is waiting for your BIG cock to be inside her daddy.”

Karina tried to go on to make another mocking little bark, but her dad managed to turn it into a howl as he lined up with her puffy little pussy and sunk a few inches into her first. Amazingly, Karina helped him by leaning back into his thrust and meeting his pelvis with the soft cushion of her young, pert ass.

“Unhhhh… fuck… daddy it feels really big this way… jeez… did your cock grow even bigger?”

“No sweetie, your body is just a little…mphhhh… more tense this way. Try to relax.”

“It’s okay, it still feels good…ooohh arf arf… don’t worry,” Karina joked.

Jae wasn’t worried. He knew that, like every other moment with Karina, the two of them were a perfect fit. Well, her teenage pussy definitely took some convincing, but with each thrust into her from behind, Jae became more convinced that he’d brought her into this world for the very purpose they were now playing out together.

He reached forward and took one of Karina’s breasts in his hand. As they established a rhythm, Karina could see why her dad wanted her in this position. She felt vulnerable and on display for him. He had complete control of her body and all she could do was stay upright and accept his incredible cock.

He groped her needily, and Karina rewarded him with the cries that were clear, beautiful melodies to her father. The young blonde hardly even realized it until she felt her dad helping her all the way to the floor, so that her nude little body joined the carpet, tickling her skin.

Jae pushed his daughter’s legs together so she was a long, slender line on the carpet, and he straddled her with his cock still inserted in the perfect little cleft between her legs. She was softer, more accepting of his thrusts, and he could see her breasts spreading out to the sides of her body each time he came down atop her with an audible smack.

“Ohfuck daddy… this is …mnhhh… this is incredible.”

A twinge of guilt prodded him as Jae held his little girl in place, but something about her helpless little form, moaning and writhing as he impaled her from above, was incredibly arousing. He grabbed her hands and pulled them around behind her back, restraining her further.

Karina was surprised at him. It wasn’t like her father to control her like this, but that was likely the reason she could feel her body singing with pleasure. Her youthful quim leaked even more as her daddy dominated her, relentlessly sliding his cock into the small opening left between her locked thighs.

Fucking his little girl in such a way brought Jae closer than he’d planned to orgasm in no time. He finally let go of her, just when Karina and her father were both starting to feel that now-familiar buzz of sensation in their outermost extremities. He slowed his thrusts to a halt, and then reluctantly slid out of her perfect little pussy.

Jae rolled his beautiful daughter over beneath him, and marveled at the flushed smile she bore, stretching out beneath him - naked as the day she was born.

“Well, that was interesting, Daddy…you liked holding me down, didn’t you?”

“I did, baby, you were so sexy I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t go too far, did I?”

Karina reached out for her father’s cock one more time, holding it and shaking her head no as she gripped him appreciatively.

“No, it was really hot Dad… you almost made me cum again!”

“Me too, sweetie,” he admitted, “just a little more and I would have, but I wanted to look at your pretty face when I did.”

Karina blushed, curling up and bathing in the gaze of her loving father above her.

“How about you show me that one other naughty position, and I’ll fill up that naughty little pussy of yours with all of your brothers and sisters, like last time.”

“I can’t wait, Daddy…” Karina breathed, gracefully maneuvering a leg to either side of her father. When she spoke again, she was already lifting her hips up off the ground for her daddy like she had in her bathing suit. “I’m all yours.”

This time, her wet little pussy was pointing right at him, and Jae wasted little time sitting up on his knees and wrapping his hands around his daughter’s suspended hips. This was the very position he’d imagined joining her in before, and as his tip wavered over her warm little pussy, he was immeasurably glad to play out his fantasy.

Karina and her father both breathed in sharply as he slid into her 18-year-old pussy again. He supported his baby as she held herself up, causing her back to arch and her entrance to form the perfect angle with his invading cock. With such a display of her breathtaking, sprawled beauty, Jae knew he would not last long.

Karina flexed her body as best she could, letting her father once again build up a good tempo until he was fucking her hard enough to shake her firm breasts mightily with each sway of her body.

She was just too incredible. He thrust into her, and in all too short a time, the familiar sensation of losing control returned..

“Sweetie, I might cum soon… you’re too much for your dad.”

“Good daddy…unghhh… I’m really close too…”

He felt her doing her best to move her acrobatic hips along with his.

“Mnhh… fuck… my pussy’s all ready for your sperm daddy…”

Another thrust landed, and with it the perilous proximity of Jae’s orgasm, approaching all the faster as his daughter’s words encouraged him.

“Right in the risky part of my cycle,” she continued. “Oh God, it’s so big…mnhh… and I guess I’m not really on birth control either… unhhhh… am I daddy?”

“You’re a naughty little girl Karina…fuck honey… it almost sounds like you want me to get you pregnant…”

The two of them were fucking each other with reckless abandon - Karina’s hips rotating as best she could, and Jae greeting her again and again with forceful, and appropriate thrusts.

“Mnhhh you already could have gotten me pregnant the first time daddy… ughh fuck your penis is so big… there’s no harm in trying again, right?”

She knew that wasn’t exactly what he’d said, but it didn’t matter. Karina could see from the look on his face that they would, in fact, 'try’ again very soon.

“That’s it, daddy…” she managed. She’d been focusing so much on making her father cum, that she hardly realized the spider web of electricity slowly overtaking her body.

“Cum in your little girl daddy…mhhh… shoot all your sticky sperm in my pussy… I want you to!”

Jae grunted loudly, shoving so deeply into his daughter that she felt him reach a point where he could go no further. She waited, her body begging for the swell of his cock and then…

Karina felt her father’s already massive member grow inside of her before it bathed her cervix with a stream of life-giving semen. Karina simply couldn’t bear how wonderful and forbidden it was to feel the stuff that made her eighteen years earlier filling her own pussy.

She toppled with her father, seeing the desperate look in his eyes as he fought to keep up, bucking until she came with him. As his cock spurted again inside his baby, Jae got his wish.

The two of them were perfectly synchronous. Each time Karina’s tunnel clenched down on her father, it coaxed another gush of semen into her. They worked together to keep the teenager’s hips aloft as her father mashed against her, throbbing as deeply inside her as he could.

Always a voracious little one, Karina tried rotating her hips around the way she had when posing for her daddy before. Only this time, with his pumping member inside of her, and it was sensitive as hell. Jae managed to stay upright, but only just. His daughter’s incredible bottom worked out another few generous ropes of his cum as it gyrated around him.

Accidentally, Karina moved just a bit too ambitiously and her daddy’s cock found its way out of her. To her delight, it had just a little more white gunk to reward her with, which squirted oh-so-beautifully across her perfect mound and the smooth skin just below her belly button. Karina liked seeing it on her - a warm and welcome depiction of the much more abundant amount inside.

“It’s dripping…” she whined.

Karina couldn’t see quite as well as her father, but she could feel it. As he regained himself, Jae watched his fateful load gleaming at Karina’s swollen entrance. Laid is back the way she was; his daughter is doing a better job of keeping it all inside her, but Jae helps her out by covering the exit once again with his tip.

“There,” he said, “now you just have to stay like that forever and all my cum will stay inside of you.” Jae couldn’t help thinking he would be fine with that.

“Not all of it,” Karina said, looking at the little mishap of spunk that hadn’t made it inside her. To her father’s utter disbelief, she ran two fingers through the streaks and brought their coated tips into her mouth.

“I knew it would taste good.” She said, delighted with herself and the look on her dad’s face.

Jae finally collapsed, landing with a thud at his daughter’s side and rolling her toward him.

They simply stared for a while, one searching the other for signs of how they were thinking and feeling. Before she went crazy, Karina spoke up.

“What are you thinking?” She asked her father.

It was a question he’d heard many a time, but it was rarely one he had a good answer for. This time, though, he didn’t even have to consider it.

“I was just thinking that I don’t know what I’ll do now that I’ve had you.”

“What do you mean, Daddy?” she prodded inquisitively.

“I mean that I just know there won’t be anyone I love so much for… well, forever.”

Karina beamed. She nuzzled against her father like his little puppy and swam in the loveliness of his words. The warmth of her daddy’s orgasm slowly seeping down across the back of her thigh was replaced by the utter passion of his loving embrace.

“I know I’m only eighteen, but I don’t want you to love anyone else like that, daddy…” Karina said bashfully. I want us to be together. Is that okay?“

God, she was so beautiful, inside and out. "Of course that’s 'okay,’ sweetie. I told you I’d always take care of you. But I won’t get in the way of you finding someone who loves you, to have babies with, and all that.”

“That’s not fair, Daddy, you said you won’t find anyone else, but I have to?”

“No… I guess not… no that’s not what I meant…” There she was again, quicker than he by a long shot.

“Besides… I’m pretty sure that I might have already found someone to have babies with…” she implied, seeing her dad taken aback, “he just took my virginity and came in my pussy TWO times when he knew I could get pregnant.”

“Now you’re not being fair, I didn’t know the first time!” Jae rebutted.

Karina gave him a hard look, holding it and making him worry for a second. Then she cracked, feeling guilty and not wanting to give her father too much grief.

“I know you didn’t daddy, but you still fucked me again didn’t you?”

“I guess I did, and I’d do it again 1,000 times,” Jae told her decisively.

“Only 1,000 times? I’m only 18, Daddy, and now that I’m not a virgin anymore, I’m going to need you to 'take care of me’ a lot, I think.”

Karina squirmed in her father’s arms. Feeling her naked little body against his, Jae had little doubt he would be able to keep up with his daughter’s demands.

“And I think you’ll have to keep filling me up with your sperm, daddy, my orgasms were SO intense when you did.”

“Who’s the naughty one now, huh?” Jae chided.

“We both are,” Karina answered.

She and her father fell silent until the magnetism of their passion for each other brought them together. They kissed and touched in ways that made Jae feel as youthful as his beautiful daughter.

Thoughts of what came next for them hadn’t entered either of their minds yet. After an hour of lying together and talking quietly about everything and nothing, the two admitted defeat to the necessity of cleaning themselves up before anyone else could get home.

Karina yelped as sticky cum that had pooled between her legs trickled down one of them. That sight, of his naked little girl dripping with the utterly exposing remnants of their unprotected sex, was one he hoped to replicate again and again.

There was so much in store for them, more than likely some difficulty if they really wanted to be together, but the satisfied prance of Karina and the loving admiration with which he followed her, was all the two of them needed in that moment.

“I have another shoot a week from now,” Karina announced at the dinner table, only an hour or two after she and her father had showered together and reluctantly ended their day of temptation, lust, and lines crossed.

“That’s great, honey, where at?” Asked her mom, sounding disinterested.

“It’s on the beach, and it’s for five days to ensure good weather! It’ll be like a little vacation.” Karina said excitedly.

“Well, your dad will have to take you then, because I’m far too busy with work right now.”

“I know, Mom. Dad and I talked about it, and he will take care of me on my shoots now.”

“Sure, that’s fine with me. Are you sure you’re okay with that, Jae?” his wife asked.

Karina smiled widely, but the naughtiness in her eyes was only for him. If only they knew that the little blonde was sitting there with her daddy’s cum swimming about inside her…

“Yeah, I’m fine with it. Somebody needs to be there to make sure our daughter is safe.”

His words stunned Karina. But then… mom couldn’t know that their version of 'safe’ was daddy filling her eighteen-year-old pussy with potent sperm and full awareness of the risk. He only glanced at her briefly to assert his meaning, but Karina caught it, and the warmth he’d deposited within her seemed to return.

“The good news is, Daddy, we’ll have multiple days off to explore together.”

She looked directly at him, but his clever little daughter seemed as good at this as he was.

“And maybe get up to some trouble?” Jae continued the banter in front of his unsuspecting wife and son.

“I don’t like the sound of that at all.” His wife stated, but he knew she couldn’t possibly understand all the trouble he was imagining with Karina.

“I do,” said Karina, her words only for her father.

#smut #aespa smut #karina smut #gg smut #kpop smut #male reader smut #aespa #karina #kpop #aespa karina #girl group smut

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scarletwinterxx · 1 month ago

Text

how long before we fall in love - choi seungcheol imagine

the way i was smiling, throwing air punches when i wrote this. pure 100% fluff coming your way!!!🥺😭🤭 (my head screaming SANA GETS NYO KO as i write this)

you can follow me on x, my un there niniramyeonie 😊🌻

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(photos not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You’re nursing the last of your drink, ice clinking against the glass as you swirl it with deliberate disinterest, hoping the guy beside you gets the hint. He doesn't. His hand lingers too close to your elbow, and every laugh he exhales smells like beer and desperation.

You've already tried subtle. You even lied about having a boyfriend — twice. Still, he leans in with that rehearsed smirk like he's the one doing you a favor.

You scan the room, fast. Desperation breeds boldness, and tonight, you’re emboldened.

Then you see him.

He’s impossible to miss. Seated at the far end of the bar, broad shoulders framed in black, head dipped low as he nurses something amber in a short glass. He looks like he belongs somewhere darker, quieter. Maybe someplace where men don’t smile, only nod.

You’re not even sure how your legs carry you there, but in three long strides, you’re beside him, heart skittering in your chest like it knows you’ve made a gamble. He glances up, and for a second, you're sure this was a mistake but there's no time for second-guessing.

“Hey, babe,” you say, and your voice barely wavers. “Sorry I took so long.”

His eyes narrow a fraction, and for one charged second, silence stretches between you like a fuse waiting to be lit.

Then his expression shifts. It's subtle, the faintest curl of his mouth, a spark of recognition in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“There you are,” he says, low and even, like the words were always meant for you. He slips an arm around your waist with a kind of confidence that feels too natural, too smooth.

You think you’ve pulled it off — until a voice slices through the act.

“Seungcheol,” she purrs. She’s suddenly there, close enough that you feel the static of her presence before you even see her. “You weren’t gonna introduce me to your little friend?”

You tense, barely hiding the wince. The stranger, Seungcheol, doesn’t move his arm.

His voice is calm, even, as if this happens all the time. “Not now, Jiwon”

“But babe—”

He doesn’t even look at her. “And how many times do I have to tell you to not call me that”

Something in his tone makes her falter. She huffs, audibly, but walks away with a forced flick of her hair.

You glance up at him, parting your lips to apologize, but he cuts you off before you can speak.

“You okay?” he murmurs, just for you and you don’t know why but you believe him. You nod.

He leans in just a little, just enough that the warmth of him slips past your skin. “You want me to make sure he stays away?”

And god help you, you say yes.

Seungcheol shifts in his seat, gaze sharp now, trained somewhere over your shoulder. You don’t even have to turn to know the persistent guy’s still hovering. You can feel the weight of him, orbiting.

“Stay close,” Seungcheol says, barely more than a breath against your ear. It shouldn’t send a chill down your spine, but it does.

He stands in one smooth motion, hand still warm against your lower back as he guides you forwar. You catch the guy’s expression the moment he sees who you’re with now. The faux confidence drains from his face in real-time, replaced by something caught between confusion and an almost primal, involuntary instinct to back off.

“Problem?” Seungcheol asks him. He’s not loud. Doesn’t need to be. There’s something in the way he holds himself, loose and deadly, like a predator who doesn’t have to growl to be heard.

The guy lifts his hands in weak surrender. “Nah, man. Just talking.”

“You were done talking when she walked away.”

It’s not a threat. It’s a statement. Inevitable. Irrefutable.

The guy backs off, muttering something that doesn’t sound like an apology, but it doesn’t matter. He’s gone. You exhale for the first time in what feels like minutes.

Seungcheol turns to you again, and just like that, the sharpness in him softens—no less intense, but different now. He looks at you like he’s cataloging something he doesn’t quite understand yet.

“You okay?” he asks again, but this time the question feels more layered. Not just are you safe, but what made you need someone like me?

You nod, slower this time. “Yeah. Thanks. That was… I didn’t expect you to actually go along with it.”

He shrugs. “You looked like you needed out.”

There’s a beat of silence, then—

“You wanna sit?” he asks, gesturing to his now-vacant seat. “I won’t bite. Unless that’s what you’re into.”

It’s deadpan. Almost. You glance at him and find the smallest glint of mischief tucked in the dark of his eyes.

You sit. Maybe it’s the adrenaline, or maybe it’s something else entirely but you get the distinct feeling your night just shifted on an axis you didn’t see coming.

You’ve barely settled into the seat beside him when you feel the disturbance before you see it. She’s back. Jiwon. Her heels click soft and calculated across the floor, posture loose but eyes laser-focused on Seungcheol. She doesn't bother with you, not really.

She stops at his other side, voice syrupy. “Thought I’d grab you that drink you like,” she says, holding it out like a peace offering. Like she’s done this before and won.

But Seungcheol doesn’t even glance at the glass. He doesn’t blink.

“I’m good here,” he says, calm as still water. “With my girl.”

It hits with the kind of weight that lands sharp but quiet. No performance, no dramatic pause. Just absolute certainty, smooth as silk and impossible to argue with.

You blink. My girl?

Then, as if on cue, he leans in—closer than he’s been all night. His hand brushes against your thigh under the bar, casual but unmistakable. The space between you disappears, and suddenly, all you can see is him.

The edge of his mouth tilts just slightly, a private smirk made only for you.

“I help you,” he murmurs, voice pitched low, just for your ears. “You help me.”

Like a switch, you slip into the role. No hesitation. No breath to second-guess.

You lean in until you’re practically folded into his side, your shoulder brushing his chest, the scent of him filling your senses like a hit of something you’re not supposed to want.

Your fingers find his thigh beneath the bar, light but deliberate, and when you turn your head to face her, your expression is sugar-laced steel.

“Thanks for keeping my boyfriend company,” you say, voice sweet enough to rot, “but we’re good now.”

Jiwon stiffens. You see it in the tight pull of her jaw, the way her hand curls around the untouched glass like she might throw it but she doesn’t say anything. Not really. Just a scoff, quiet and bitter, before she turns on her heel and disappears into the crowd again.

The moment she’s gone, Seungcheol exhales a laugh. Low. Quiet. Almost impressed.

“Well damn,” he says, tilting his head to look at you properly. “Didn’t think you had that in you.”

You arch a brow. “What, the spine or the spite?”

His grin widens, lazy and wolfish. “Both.”

You should pull away. You should return to your drink, your solitude, the night you had before this turned into something else entirely.

But you don’t.

Because now, you’re curious—and curiosity is a dangerous thing when someone like Seungcheol is involved. He smirks again, but there’s something different behind it then he leans down, slow enough to feel deliberate, and you feel it:

The brush of his lips against your bare shoulder.

Barely there. Barely anything. But it sets off a fire low in your belly, a spark you weren’t expecting and definitely weren’t prepared for. Your breath catches, and you turn your head to say something but you’re interrupted.

“Yo, Choi!” a voice calls out, casual and easy, and you look up just as two guys approach the table.

They’re both tall, well-dressed, and annoyingly attractive in that infuriating way that only works because they know it. The one with the long and cat-like grin lifts his brows as he takes in the scene. Your hand still on Seungcheol’s thigh, your body tucked into his side, his lips a breath away from your skin.

“Are we interrupting?” the long haired one asks

Seungcheol doesn’t move away. If anything, his arm tightens slightly around you. “If I say yes, will you go away”

The other one—gentler-looking, nudges his friend. “Jeonghan, stop being an ass. Hi,” he says, this time to you. “I’m Joshua. You?”

You give your name, and Jeonghan grins like you just told him a secret. “Cute. She’s cute.”

Seungcheol doesn’t say anything. He just takes a sip from his drink but there’s something in the way his thumb traces idle circles against your hip that says plenty.

“You’re not usually the type to play house, Seungcheol,” Jeonghan adds, sliding into the seat across from you both. “What’s this, new leaf?”

“Maybe I like what I’m playing with,” Seungcheol says, and his voice is so calm, so unapologetic, that for a second, even you forget this started as pretend.

Joshua raises a brow but doesn’t push it. He just smiles a little, as if he already sees where this is going before either of you do. And when you feel Seungcheol’s hand settle more firmly against your thigh, like he’s staking a claim in front of his friends.

A few drinks later, your head’s pleasantly light, the warmth of alcohol and laughter still lingering in your chest. Jeonghan and Joshua had finally wandered off to harass someone else, leaving you and Seungcheol alone again, though somehow the silence between you isn’t awkward—it’s alive.

You glance at your phone, blinking at the time. Late.

You push your glass away and sigh, “Alright, I should probably call it. Before I start thinking karaoke’s a good idea.”

Seungcheol chuckles, low and easy. “You’d make a great bad decision at karaoke.”

You shoot him a look, but you’re smiling. “I’m not drunk enough to embarrass myself like that.”

“Pity. I’d pay good money to hear you scream-sing something tragic.”

You snort. “You’re not even pretending to be nice.”

He tilts his head, mock thoughtful. “Did I ever pretend?”

You open your mouth to fire back something snarky, but the moment shifts. Just slightly. Just enough.

You glance toward the exit, suddenly uneasy. The weight of earlier brushes the edge of your thoughts, and now that the buzz is wearing down, the memory of that guy—the lingering stare, the way he didn’t get the hint—sticks.

Seungcheol notices. Of course he does. His eyes sharpen, but his voice stays light.

“Want me to walk you out?”

You hesitate then nod. “Actually… would it be weird if I asked you to drive me home?”

His brows rise just a touch but he doesn’t hesitate. “Not weird,” he says. “I was hoping you'd ask.”

You raise a brow, teasing. “You were hoping?”

“I mean, you’re kind of glued to me tonight,” he says, smirking as he stands, grabbing his jacket. “Thought I’d return the favor.”

You follow him out, the air outside cooler than expected. He opens the passenger door like it’s instinct—like he’s done this for you a hundred times already—and when you slide in, he leans down just enough that your eyes meet.

“You trust me to drive you home?” he asks, voice lower now, a touch more serious, but still laced with that lazy confidence.

You look up at him through your lashes, lips quirking. “I don’t know. Should I?”

And just like that, the door shuts with a soft click and your pulse doesn’t quite settle the whole ride home. When he slides into the driver’s seat, the engine purring to life beneath his hands, you glance sideways at him, half-joking, half-not, voice just a little too casual.

“I’m not gonna end up in a true crime documentary, right?”

He smirks without looking at you, eyes on the road as he pulls out of the lot. “Nah. Too much paperwork.”

You laugh, but he doesn’t stop there.

“If I was gonna murder you, I wouldn’t have bought you drinks first. That’s just inefficient.”

You raise a brow. “Wow. Comforting.”

He glances over at you, one hand loose on the wheel, the other resting near the gearshift, his voice a bit softer now

“I mean, you approached me. Technically, this is your villain origin story.”

You feign scandal. “So I lured you in.”

“Exactly. Innocent-looking girl at a bar, bold enough to lie her way into my lap? Yeah, you’re the dangerous one here.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a grin tugging at your lips. “You think I’m innocent-looking?”

He cuts his eyes toward you, a slow once-over that makes the air between you crackle.

“I think you’re a lot of things,” he says. “But innocent? Not buying it.”

And just like that, the car gets a little quieter. Not uncomfortable. Just… charged.

And you wonder, as the streetlights blur past the windows, what you’ve really gotten yourself into tonight.

“Oh,” you say, feigning surprise, a slow smirk curling at your lips. “So you’ve got me all figured out already?”

He glances over, and this time he doesn’t hide the smile.

“Didn’t say that,” he replies smoothly. “I said I’m not buying the innocent act. Big difference.”

You hum, dragging your gaze out the window like you're not grinning.

“Maybe I’m just mysterious,” you tease. “Hard to read. Dangerous, even.”

He snorts. “You’re definitely dangerous.”

“Yeah?” you ask, turning back to him, playful but edged with something more. “Afraid I’ll break your heart?”

He laughs once but then his eyes flick over to you, and it’s different now. He’s not smiling anymore, not quite. His voice drops, soft but steady.

“Nah,” he murmurs, “I’m enjoying this too much.”

You don’t answer right away, and neither does he. The quiet stretches, dense with something neither of you name. But when his hand brushes yours over the center console—barely there, just a question—you don’t pull away.

“And you?” he says, voice quiet, like he’s easing into something he actually wants the answer to. “How come, out of everyone there… you suddenly let yourself strut my way?”

“I don’t know,” you say at first, then pause. “You just looked like the kind of guy who wouldn’t ask questions.”

He huffs a laugh, amused. “You were banking on me being cooperative?”

“I was banking on you being scary enough to make the other guy piss himself.”

“And I was.”

You grin despite yourself. “So humble.”

He finally turns to look at you fully, eyes dark but curious, a faint crease in his brow like he’s studying you a little deeper now.

“But that’s not it,” he says. “Not really.”

You tilt your head. “No?”

“No. You could’ve gone to the bartender. The bouncer. Your friends, if you had any there. But you came to me.”

You’re quiet for a beat too long, because—yeah. He’s right.

So you shrug, pretending it’s simple when it’s not. “Guess I like walking toward the fire sometimes.”

He laughs again, deeper this time, but there’s something thoughtful behind it.

“Then lucky for you,” he murmurs, eyes still on you, “I don’t burn easy.”

And your heart? Yeah. It skips. Hard.

The next morning, Seungcheol walks into the office ten minutes late with zero regrets and exactly one iced Americano in hand, looking irritatingly composed for someone who got maybe four hours of sleep.

He’s barely set his cup down when Jeonghan’s voice sings from across the room.

“Well, well, well—if it isn’t Mr. I-Don’t-Do-Relationships strolling in like a man who definitely didn’t go straight home last night.”

Joshua looks up from his laptop, raising a brow with a barely contained smirk. “So… who was she?”

Seungcheol doesn’t answer. Just pulls off his jacket and hangs it up with surgical precision, like he’s trying not to indulge them.

Which, of course, only makes them hungrier.

“C’mon, Cheol,” Jeonghan pushes, trailing him to his desk like a cat stalking something shiny. “You had her in your lap half the night. You don’t cuddle in public. I didn’t even know you could cuddle.”

“Technically,” Joshua adds, “I think she was in the driver’s seat.”

“Literally and figuratively,” Jeonghan nods. “She had you wrapped. It was… inspiring.”

Seungcheol exhales through his nose and finally turns around, arms folded, leaning against the edge of his desk like he’s humoring children.

“She was someone who needed help,” he says evenly. “That’s it.”

Jeonghan’s eyes glint. “So you just happened to keep your hand on her thigh all night out of… community service?”

Joshua’s tone is gentler, but no less pointed. “You looked comfortable. Not pretending-comfortable. Just… real.”

Seungcheol hesitates. He hates that they’re good at this. That they know how to read the cracks in his tone.

“She was easy to talk to,” he admits. “Didn’t play games. No agenda.”

Jeonghan fake gasps. “Wait. You liked her.”

He rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t not say it,” Joshua counters.

Jeonghan grins like he just won something. “What’s her name?”

Seungcheol smirks now, because this is the part he won’t give them. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

And when he turns back to his desk, his phone buzzes once.

A message from you.

You: So… if I walk into your office right now, am I gonna ruin your mysterious, emotionally unavailable persona?

He stares at it for a second, then smiles—small and private. Maybe he is in trouble. He stares at your text for a beat longer, thumb hovering over the keyboard like he’s weighing something heavier than the words.

Seungcheol: Only if you walk in looking like last night. My reputation wouldn’t survive it.

Seungcheol: Free for lunch? I’ll come to you.

He hits send before he can think better of it.

Across the room, Jeonghan is still dramatically theorizing about your identity, now halfway into a ridiculous monologue about you being an international art thief who seduced Seungcheol for corporate secrets.

He ignores it because right now, he’s more interested in seeing you again and if that means sneaking in an hour between meetings and pretending he’s not the kind of guy who clears his calendar for a woman he just met, then so be it.

A little past noon, your phone buzzes again. You’re mid-email, squinting at your screen, when the notification pops up.

Seungcheol: Outside. Come down. I brought bribes.

You blink. Bribes? What does that even mean? Curiosity wins out fast. You grab your phone, smooth your outfit and head down.

The moment you step out, you see him leaning against a sleek black car that absolutely screams expensive and unnecessary, sunglasses pushed up in his hair, holding a paper bag and two drinks.

Your brows lift. “So this is you not trying?”

He grins, looking annoyingly perfect for someone who probably woke up late and still somehow managed to make the pavement feel like a runway. “Told you. Bribes.”

You walk up slowly, eyeing the bag. “What is it?”

“Sandwiches. From that overpriced place near here. Hope you’re not one of those 'just salad' people.”

You narrow your eyes. “I contain multitudes.”

He chuckles, hands you your drink. “Good. You’ll need them to keep up.”

You gesture toward the car. “So, this your day job? Picking up women and showing off your mysterious wealth?”

He laughs genuinely, this time. “Would you believe me if I said I’m just a humble middle manager?”

You give him a long, skeptical once-over. “Not a chance.”

He opens the passenger door for you again like it's a habit. Like he already knows you’ll get in and you do. Because lunch with Choi Seungcheol? Yeah. That sounds like danger worth walking toward twice.

You slide into the passenger seat, you glance at him as he rounds the front of the car and settles into the driver’s seat again, placing the food carefully between you.

“Okay, so what is it that you actually do?” you ask, peeling open the sandwich wrapper, the scent already unfairly good.

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Management. Mostly.”

“That’s vague as hell.”

“Intentionally,” he says, shooting you a sideways glance. “You’ll find I’m very good at withholding.”

You snort. “Is that your way of saying you’re emotionally constipated?”

“No, that’s me saying I like keeping some cards close.” He takes a bite of his sandwich, chews, swallows. “Makes things interesting.”

You hum, eyes narrowing just a touch. “So you’re not gonna tell me what your job actually is?”

He shakes his head slowly. “Not yet. I kind of like that you don’t know.”

You blink. “Why?”

He turns toward you fully now, one arm draped over the back of your seat, eyes lazy and unreadable but focused—very focused—on you.

“Because if you knew,” he says slowly, “you might treat me differently.”

Something flickers behind his tone. Not arrogance. Something quieter. Something worn and for a second, you forget you're supposed to be teasing him.

You hold his gaze. “Then maybe I’d rather not know.”

He searches your face for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to flinch, waiting for that inevitable shift he’s used to seeing in people when they do find out. But you don’t.

You just take another bite of your sandwich and speak through your smirk.

“So, Mr. Vague Middle Manager, are all your dates catered and chauffeured?”

That draws a full laugh out of him—deep and unguarded.

“This a date now?” he throws back.

You shrug with exaggerated innocence. “You did bring food. And bribes. And you’re staring at me like you wanna ruin my whole week.”

He hums, low and amused, eyes dropping to your lips and staying there just a little too long.

“Trust me,” he murmurs, “if I wanted to ruin your week… you’d know.”

And just like that, your heart forgets how to beat steady.

Again.

The place he takes you to is tucked away on a quiet side street. nothing flashy, no fancy valet, no five-star pretensions. Just the warm, familiar smell of grilled meat and the faint sizzle of something delicious already hitting a hot pan.

You recognize it immediately. The kind of Korean spot that’s half comfort, half chaos. Worn wooden tables, metal chopsticks in tin cups, steam clouding the windows from hot broth and soju-fueled laughter. A place where people don’t come to impress, they come because it feels like home.

He pulls the door open for you, and the ahjumma behind the counter beams when she sees him.

“Seungcheol-ah!” she calls, already bustling toward the kitchen. “Same table?”

He nods, bowing slightly in greeting.

You look at him sideways. “Regular, huh?”

He shrugs, the edge of his mouth twitching. “Told you. I like places where people don’t ask too many questions.”

She’s already setting the table as you both slide into the booth. The tabletop grill is already heating, meat—samgyeopsal, thick-cut and glistening—lands in the center with a satisfying thud.

He picks up the tongs like he’s done this a hundred times, which he probably has, and starts placing the pork belly on the grill, the sizzle instant and loud.

“Wow,” you say, smirking. “So this is how you impress women.”

“I’m feeding you, aren’t I?” he says, eyes focused on flipping the meat with practiced ease. “It’s a love language.”

“You do seem suspiciously fluent in this.”

“You gonna psychoanalyze me now?”

You lean your chin into your hand, watching him with lazy interest. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like watching you cook.”

He glances up, brow raised, but there’s a flicker of something else in his gaze now. That slow burn again.

“Careful,” he murmurs. “Flirting with me at a restaurant I come to every week? You’re treading into girlfriend territory.”

You pop a piece of kimchi into your mouth and smile like it’s nothing. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation.”

“Too late.”

There’s something light about this but underneath, there's a current neither of you are pretending to ignore anymore.

He wraps a piece of grilled meat in lettuce, adds a bit of ssamjang and garlic, then holds it out across the table.

“For you,” he says, voice soft, hand steady.

You pause. Then lean forward, take it straight from his fingers, lips brushing his skin on the way.

And the look in his eyes?

Yeah, lunch just got a lot more complicated.

You're mid-chew when the ahjumma comes back over, wiping her hands on her apron, eyes sharp and curious as she sets another bowl of pickled radish down on the table.

She turns to Seungcheol with a knowing grin. “You’re not with the usual troublemakers today. Who’s this lovely girl? You got married and didn’t tell us?”

You almost choke. Seungcheol freezes for a secondbut then, smooth as ever, he swallows, glances at you, and smiles like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“Not married yet,” he says casually, sliding his chopsticks into the rice like punctuation. “But I’m working on it.”

Your eyes snap to him. Excuse me?

The ahjumma gasps, clearly delighted. “Aigoo! She’s pretty and patient—finally, a girl who can handle you! Yah, I prayed for this!”

You blink at her. Then at Seungcheol. He’s not even flinching. The man has the audacity to look pleased.

“Ah, he’s exaggerating,” you say quickly, giving the auntie a smile and trying not to combust. “We just—”

“—Make a good team,” Seungcheol finishes for you, eyes flicking to yours with a glint of mischief. “She keeps me in line.”

The ahjumma sighs dreamily, clearly buying the whole act. “Don’t let him go, sweet girl. He might act cool, but he needs someone who’ll yell at him when he forgets to eat. This one’s stubborn.”

You nod solemnly. “He does give off that energy.”

“Exactly!” she points at you like you’re a genius. “You understand already! Just marry him.”

Seungcheol coughs into his drink, but he’s grinning now, and you can’t help it—you’re laughing, eyes narrowed at him across the table.

The auntie bustles off, muttering about bringing more side dishes for the happy couple.

You lean in, tone low and pointed. “Married? Really?”

He shrugs, unabashed. “What? You handled it like a pro. I’m impressed.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” he says, sliding another wrap your way, “you’re still here.”

You hate how easy it is to smile at him. Hate it even more that he’s smiling too—like he likes whatever this is just as much as you do.

The ride back to your office is quieter, he pulls up in front of your building, shifts the car into park, and glances over at you.

You unbuckle your seatbelt slowly. “Thanks for lunch.”

“You make it sound like I’m not planning on doing it again.”

You grin, leaning just a little closer. “Oh? Planning on making a habit out of me?”

His smirk is there, but softer now. “Thinking about it.”

You hop out before you say something stupid. Before he says something worse. But before you can shut the door, he leans across the console and says, quieter:

“Text me when you get up there. Just so I know you made it.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. “Yes, Dad.”

He raises a brow. “You really want to test that boundary this early?”

You shut the door before your brain melts and give him a mock salute through the window.

By the time Seungcheol pulls into the garage under his own office building, he’s five minutes behind schedule and vaguely irritated at how fast traffic moved now that he was in a rush.

He checks his phone in the elevator: one message from you.

You: Alive. Fed. Still thinking about that ssam you made. 8/10.

He grins to himself just as the elevator dings open on his floor. Unfortunately, his mood immediately sours when he sees who’s already in the conference room, arms folded, feet on the table like he owns the place.

Jeonghan.

The second Seungcheol steps through the door, Jeonghan looks at his watch dramatically.

“Five minutes late. How domestic of you.”

“Save it,” Seungcheol mutters, dropping into the seat across from him.

Jeonghan smirks like he’s been waiting for this moment. “So? Was it worth it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Uh-huh. You’re flushed, your hair’s a little messy, and for once, you didn’t glare at anyone” Jeonghan taps his fingers against the table. “You’re basically glowing.”

Seungcheol sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “Can we just get through this meeting?”

“Oh, we will,” Jeonghan says brightly. “But not before you tell me if she’s single, if she has friends, and if your sudden boyfriend energy is gonna affect this quarter’s performance.”

Seungcheol narrows his eyes. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Absolutely.”

The days blur together. You two still talk, in between meetings and his hectic schedule he would always find some time for you. When he’s free he’ll go drive to you and grab lunch, wherever you want or sometimes a surprise.

It’s just past six when Seungcheol finally leans back in his chair, eyes dragging away from the spreadsheet he’s barely processed for the last fifteen minutes.

His fingers hover over his phone for a second before he gives in to the impulse—simple and direct.

Seungcheol: You free for dinner?

You:Yes. Come rescue me.

He smirks, already pushing back from his desk. Jacket on. Sleeves rolled. A very quiet kind of urgency in his steps.

On your end, the timing couldn’t be more perfect. Your coworkers have been hovering at your desk all afternoon, buzzing about Friday drinks like it’s the social event of the year. They’re already lining up shots in their heads, plotting karaoke and potential chaos.

“You coming, right?” one of them asks, nudging your elbow. “C’mon, you always dip. Just one night.”

You smile politely, already trying to edge away. “I actually have plans—”

“With who?” another cuts in, eyebrows raised. “You’ve been glowing all week.”

You blink. “What is it with people and this glowing thing?”

They groan. “So you do have a date. Who is he?”

Before you can lie—or dodge, or disappear into thin air—your phone buzzes again.

Seungcheol: Be there in twenty. What kind of rescue we talking? Fire escape or just dramatic entrance?

You bite your lip to suppress the grin that tries to surface.

“Just someone picking me up,” you say vaguely, grabbing your bag and ignoring the chorus of curious oohs that follow.

“You’re no fun,” one of them whines as you make your escape. “At least send us a picture! We won’t believe he exists!”

You wave behind you. “Exactly why I’m not sending one.”

They groan louder, but you’re already walking toward the elevator, pulse picking up just a little. You don’t know what this is with him yet—not really. But it’s enough to have you hoping the next twenty minutes pass just fast enough.

You make it out of the building just as the sun is dipping behind the city skyline, casting everything in that dusky golden glow that feels almost too cinematic for real life. As if on cue, his car pulls up.

The passenger window rolls down, and there he is, arm resting on the wheel, watching you with that lazy, low-key amused smile that somehow makes your heart skip like it’s late for something.

“You always look like you just walked out of a movie,” you say as you slide in, tossing your bag at your feet.

He glances over, that grin growing as he shifts the car into drive. “Funny. I was just thinking the same about you.”

You shake your head, suppressing a smile. “Flattery before food? Risky move.”

“Not flattery,” he says, glancing at you as he pulls into traffic. “Observation. You look like you needed a getaway.”

You sigh dramatically, letting your head thud against the seat. “You have no idea. They were trying to hold me hostage for soju and noraebang.”

He chuckles, tapping the wheel. “I’d pay to see that.”

“You would,” you mutter. “Anyway, thanks for the timely rescue.”

“Anytime,” he says, tone quiet but sincere.

For a moment, you both fall into comfortable silence, the hum of the road filling the space. It’s not awkward. If anything, it’s the kind of quiet that only settles when someone’s presence feels... easy.

“Where are we going?” you ask after a while, glancing at him.

He tilts his head, lips tugging upward. “Somewhere that serves food hot, drinks cold, and lets me look at you across the table without interruption.”

You arch a brow. “Is that your version of romantic?”

“No,” he says. “That’s my version of honest.”

Your stomach does that annoying little flutter again. He doesn’t look at you when he says it, but his hand briefly brushes your knee in a turn—accidental, maybe—but he doesn’t pull away too quickly.

The drive takes longer this time, farther out from the noise of downtown, the streets growing quieter, narrower.

You glance over at him. “You’ve got a thing for hidden spots, huh?”

“I don’t like crowds,” he says simply. “And I like places that let me hear you when you talk.”

You pause, caught off guard by the casual weight of it. “You’re smooth.”

“I’m observant,” he corrects, pulling into a tiny gravel lot tucked away

You step out and take in the place. No line. No obvious branding. Just the kind of restaurant people guard like a secret.

“This place looks like it has stories,” you murmur, tucking your hands into your coat.

“It does,” he says, rounding the car to walk beside you. “Mostly about good food. And about the owner being mildly terrifying if you show up drunk and disrespectful.”

You laugh, and he pulls the door open for you, holding it until you step inside.

It’s warm. Cozy. The scent of doenjang jjigae and grilled mackerel hangs in the air. The lights are soft, yellow, casting everything in that old-kitchen comfort glow. You’re seated in the farthest corner, a little nook with floor cushions and a small table already set with water, chopsticks, and folded linen napkins. The privacy of it feels intentional.

The owner, a silver-haired woman in a worn apron, comes over with barely a word, just a sharp eye and a small smile when she sees Seungcheol.

“You brought someone,” she says, voice raspy but kind. “She’s pretty. And awake, unlike the last idiot your friend brought.”

Seungcheol winces. “That was Mingyu.”

She waves him off, already handing you both menus like she’s decided you’re staying regardless.

You stifle a laugh. “Do all your regular spots come with built-in character witnesses?”

“Only the good ones,” he replies, flipping open the menu. “What’re you in the mood for?”

You pretend to study the list, but really, you’re watching the way he sits here—comfortable, known, but still somehow wrapped in mystery. Like there’s more under the surface that he only lets people see in pieces.

“You choose,” you say, passing your menu across the table. “You haven’t steered me wrong yet.”

He takes it with a slow smile. “Dangerous trust.”

“You like that about me,” you say without missing a beat.

His eyes meet yours, steady and sure.

“I do.”

And the way he says it?

It isn’t playful. Isn’t light. It lands somewhere between a promise and a warning.

And suddenly, the quiet between you feels like something else entirely.

He closes the menu without looking at it for too long, then says something casual to the owner, his tone respectful but familiar. She gives you one last look (a little assessing, a little approving) before disappearing toward the kitchen with a short nod.

You raise an eyebrow. “You didn’t even ask what I wanted.”

He leans back, completely unbothered. “I did.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. You said, ‘you choose.’ That’s verbal consent. Witnessed and documented.”

You snort. “Okay, lawyer.”

He grins. “You’ll thank me in a few minutes.”

And you do. Because when the food comes, it’s thin wheat noodles in a light broth, topped with julienned vegetables, sliced egg, seaweed, and just a hint of sesame oil. The aroma alone makes your eyes widen.

Your inner monologue might as well be standing on a table, screaming. He ordered noodles. My weakness. My love language. My eternal home.

“Are you a mind reader?” you ask, unable to hide your excitement as you pick up your chopsticks.

“I had a hunch,” he says, watching you with mild amusement as you practically dive in. “You look like someone who’d fight for the last noodle in a pot.”

You pause with your chopsticks halfway to your mouth. “Is that a compliment or a psychological profile?”

“Depends.” He’s smiling, elbow propped lazily on the table, eyes fixed on you. “Are you the type to share your noodles, or hoard them?”

You pretend to consider it, chewing thoughtfully. “Depends on who’s asking.”

He laughs, low and full. The kind that catches in your chest.

The food is simple, warm, deeply comforting. Not because of the food, exactly. But because of who’s sitting across from you. And how easy he makes all of this feel.

And when he steals one of your noodles just to prove a point? You let him.

As you both finish the last of the broth, the warm glow of the restaurant wrapping around you like a lazy blanket, you lean back on your cushion and stretch your legs under the table, nudging his knee with your foot.

You glance at the time on your phone and raise a brow. “It’s not even eight,” you say, mock-disbelief in your voice. “Don’t tell me you’re the type to go to bed right after dinner. Old-man hours already?”

“What, you think I’m boring?”

You shrug. “I mean… I don’t know. The cozy dinner. The secret spot. The soft lighting. This has bedtime-by-nine written all over it.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” he mutters, grabbing the check before you can even reach for your wallet.

You blink. “Wait. What was that?”

“I said,” he repeats, standing smoothly and ignoring your faux-innocent stare, “you’re lucky I like you.”

“Bold assumption,” you say, following him toward the door. “You don’t know me like that.”

He holds the door open, leaning into the frame as you step past him. “You say that, but you’re not running away.”

You pause outside, cold air kissing your skin as you glance up at him.

“I’d say that depends,” you murmur, lifting your chin slightly. “Are you planning to make the night more interesting or tuck me in with warm milk and a bedtime story?”

“I was thinking…” he steps a little closer, voice dipping, “maybe something in between.”

Your pulse flickers fast. Intrigued.

“So,” you say, eyes narrowing. “What now?”

He glances toward the car, then back at you. “Let’s drive.”

“That’s it? Just a drive?”

He shrugs. “You scared I’m secretly boring?”

You smile, teeth catching your bottom lip as you shake your head. “No. I’m scared you’re not.”

The city peels away behind you, all neon and noise in the rearview, replaced by wider roads and quieter corners. You glance over at him as he drives, one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the gearshift.

"You always drive like this?" you ask, the wind catching in your voice just slightly.

He glances over, curious. “Like what?”

“Like you're in a movie. Slow, steady. No destination, just vibes.”

His mouth tugs into that crooked half-smile. “Wouldn’t be the worst scene to be in.”

You roll your eyes, but your grin gives you away. “You're really running with this leading-man energy, huh?”

“You’re the one who asked me to rescue you. I’m just sticking to the role.”

"Right. So where's the dramatic monologue about how you're secretly emotionally unavailable but somehow willing to change only for me?"

“That’s coming in act three,” he says smoothly. “Right after the almost-kiss and right before I mess it all up.”

You’re laughing now, really laughing, and when you glance at him again, he’s not even pretending not to stare.

He clears his throat. “There’s a lookout just up ahead. View’s nice this time of night.”

“Another hidden spot?”

“You doubting my taste now?”

“Never. Just making sure you’re not lulling me into a false sense of security before you reveal you are, in fact, a very charming serial killer.”

He chuckles under his breath. “If I was, you wouldn’t’ve made it past the noodles.”

You hum. “Fair point. Still. You are dangerously smooth.”

“I could say the same about you.”

That brings a new kind of quiet. One with heat underneath it.

By the time he pulls up to the lookout you’re not sure whether you’re more captivated by the view outside, or the one inside the car.

He kills the engine but makes no move to get out. Neither do you.

“So,” he says after a beat, voice a little lower. “Still think I’m putting you to bed before nine?”

You smirk, turning just slightly toward him. “We’re well past bedtime, Cheol.”

And somehow, that feels like the most dangerous thing you’ve said all night. He huffs a short laugh through his nose, eyes narrowing slightly with amusement as he shifts to face you more fully in the dim glow of the dashboard lights.

You tilt your head, feigning casual. “Just doing my due diligence,” you say, poking at the corner of the console with your nail. “Before this gets… you know. Interesting. You don’t have kids right? Or a wife waiting at home something like that”

He raises a brow, resting his arm against the back of your seat. “Interesting, huh?”

He doesn’t deny it. Just lets that lazy grin spread as he lets his gaze settle on you—like he’s trying to read between your words and the space between your knees brushing his.

“No wife,” he says finally. “No kids. No secrets.”

You blink. “Wow. A full set.”

He leans in just a little, voice lower now. “Disappointed?”

You laugh, the sound soft, breathless. “Relieved, actually. I’d hate to be a plot twist in someone else’s drama.”

“No,” he murmurs. “If anything, you feel like the beginning of something.”

You freeze just for a second.

“Are you always like this? Charming, smooth-talking, devastatingly good at timing?”

His fingers brush a strand of hair behind your ear, slow and deliberate. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

“Guess I’ll need more data.”

He laughs again—quiet, warm—and lets the moment linger in that hazy space between restraint and intent. Outside, the city glows. But in here, it’s just the two of you, suspended in that delicious kind of silence where everything feels possible.

You swallow lightly. “So… how much data are we talking? One night? Two? A whole series?”

His smile curves, lazy and full of mischief. “Are you asking how many dates it takes before I kiss you?”

“Maybe,” you say, voice just above a whisper.

“Depends how good the data is.” He leans in a little, not touching you yet but close enough. His voice dips, rough around the edges in that way that sends a shiver up your spine.

Your breath catches, pulse ticking a little faster, but you don’t lean away. If anything, you meet him halfway.

You exhale slowly, watching his eyes flick down to your mouth.

“You’re really not going to kiss me, are you?” you ask, a little breathless now.

He smirks, gaze lifting back to yours.

“I will,” he says. “But not because it’s expected.”

You blink, pulse stuttering.

“Then why?”

He tilts his head, thumb brushing the curve of your cheekbone.

“Because the second I do… it stops being light and easy. And I think we both know it.”

You sit there for a second, stunned into silence—because he’s not wrong. There’s a weight to this that neither of you are quite ready to name, but it’s there. Unspoken, humming like the low thrum of electricity before a storm.

So instead, you nod—slow, almost amused.

“You’re dangerous, Choi Seungcheol.”

He leans back just slightly, watching you with that infuriatingly unreadable expression.

“And you’re trouble.”

You smile.

“So what now?”

He reaches for the gear shift, gaze still lingering on you.

“Now,” he says, “I drive you home before we both make very bad, very good decisions.”

And you don’t argue.

But as he pulls away from the lookout, your fingers resting dangerously close to his on the center console, you get the feeling this isn’t the end of the night.

It’s just the prelude.

The sky is painfully clear, bright blue with not a cloud in sight and the sun has no business being this aggressive before noon.

Jeonghan’s halfway through lining up his swing when he notices it. The stillness. The quiet hum of something off.

He looks over and nearly misses his shot entirely.

“Okay,” he mutters, club dangling from one hand as he turns toward Joshua. “Am I hallucinating or is Seungcheol smiling at his phone?”

Joshua, already sipping on an iced americano and way too comfortable in his obnoxiously pastel golf attire, raises an eyebrow and glances over at their friend, who’s sitting on the edge of the golf cart with his phone in hand, thumb tapping out something quick.

And yeah. He's definitely smiling. Not smirking. Not plotting someone’s downfall.

Actually, smiling.

Joshua leans closer, squinting dramatically. “Are we about to die? Should I call my mom?”

“Maybe he’s reading memes,” Jeonghan says, though his voice lacks conviction.

“Right,” Joshua snorts. “Because Seungcheol totally wakes up and chooses cat videos.”

They both watch him a beat longer.

Seungcheol finally glances up, catching their stares. “What?”

Joshua holds his drink up like it’s a toast. “Just wondering if we need to evacuate Seoul. You good, buddy?”

Jeonghan crosses his arms. “You’re smiling, Cheol. Like… full teeth. Sunshine smile. Are you in pain? Blink twice if it’s a hostage situation.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, but the corners of his mouth don’t drop. If anything, they twitch higher when his phone buzzes again and he types out a quick reply before tucking it away in his pocket.

“Y’all are dramatic.”

“Oh no no,” Jeonghan says, hopping into the cart. “You don’t get to be mysterious. Who is she?”

“There’s no she.”

“Liar. You haven’t looked this happy since Mingyu fell into that koi pond.”

Joshua hums, thoughtful. “It’s the girl from the bar, isn’t it?”

Seungcheol doesn't answer which is an answer in itself.

Jeonghan squints. “Wait, you’re still talking to her? Damn. I thought that was just a one-night distraction.”

Seungcheol shrugs, grabbing his club and walking toward the next hole. “Maybe I like being distracted.”

Joshua raises his brows. “He’s whipped.”

“Absolutely whipped,” Jeonghan echoes, grinning like he’s already plotting how to make this his new favorite topic of conversation.

The reason for that rare, suspiciously soft smile on Seungcheol’s face? Easy.

It’s sitting in his phone, timestamped at 8:02 a.m.

A photo of your desk, where a bouquet of creamy white ranunculus and pale blush roses now sits in the center, like it owns the place. A handwritten note tucked between the blooms simply reads:

Thanks for keeping me up past my bedtime. - CSC

Your caption underneath the photo had been equally unfair.

You: You smooth bastard. You knew I liked flowers, didn’t you?

He hadn’t, actually but he guessed. Just like the noodles. And the way your voice lit up over the phone when he mentioned he had a surprise coming.

It was a hunch, like everything else about you so far, a series of guesses that kept turning out more right than he probably deserved.

You: Do I have to say thank you over lunch or dinner? Because I can clear my schedule.

Hence: the smile.

The same one he’s fighting right now, out on the golf course, while Jeonghan interrogates him like a nosy mother with a magnifying glass.

“She thanked me,” Seungcheol says finally, smirking to himself as he adjusts his grip on the club.

Joshua frowns. “For what?”

He doesn’t even look up as he swings. “For the flowers I sent this morning.”

There’s a pause.

“Flowers?” Jeonghan yells from the cart. “Oh, we’re officially in rom-com territory now.”

Joshua leans on his driver. “You used to make fun of me for that. Remember back then when I got my girlfriend flowers after two weeks and you called me a simp with no spine?”

“I was right. You were insufferable,” Seungcheol replies easily. “I, on the other hand, am charming.”

Jeonghan snorts. “You sent ranunculus, didn’t you?”

That actually gets Seungcheol to glance over, brow raised. “How the hell do you know that?”

“Because you’re dramatic,” Jeonghan deadpans. “And because you’re literally the only person I know who flirts with florals like it’s a love letter.”

He shrugs, but the smug look doesn’t leave his face.

“She liked them.”

And really, that’s all he needs today. Not the perfect swing, not a quiet weekend, not even an answer to whatever it is that's slowly, surely happening between you and him.

You’re barefoot, hair up in a loose bun, sleeves shoved past your elbows, and a cleaning rag hanging off your shoulder like a badge of honor. There's a half-folded pile of laundry on the couch, your favorite playlist echoing from the kitchen speaker, and the scent of lemon cleaner still lingers in the air.

You weren’t thinking about him. Not exactly. Okay, maybe a little.

But still, when the doorbell rings, you freeze mid-wipe, glancing toward the door like it might be another delivery.

Flowers again?

You make your way over, still patting your hands dry on your pajama shorts, and swing the door open without much thought.

And your heart absolutely stutters.

Because standing there isn’t a courier. Or a stranger.

It’s him.

Choi Seungcheol, dressed down in jeans, a dark tee, and that unfairly calm expression that somehow looks even better in daylight. One hand casually stuffed in his pocket, the other holding up a familiar-looking takeout bag.

“You said lunch or dinner,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Thought I’d split the difference.”

You blink, stunned and slightly underdressed for this plot twist. “You—wait, you’re here?”

He lifts the bag slightly. “Samgyeopsal dosirak. And something sweet because I thought you might need dessert after all that dusting.”

You let out a soft, surprised laugh, stepping back instinctively to let him in. “You could’ve texted.”

“I could’ve,” he agrees, stepping past the threshold, eyes flicking to the mess of throw pillows and laundry and general weekend chaos. “But I figured showing up gets me bonus points.”

“Bold move,” you say, shutting the door behind him.

He shrugs, setting the bag down on your kitchen counter. “You already called me smooth this morning. Might as well live up to it.”

You watch him for a moment, slightly in awe—and slightly mortified you’re wearing an old t-shirt and fuzzy socks while he looks like that.

“Sorry for the mess,” you mutter, grabbing a few stray pieces of laundry and shoving them toward a basket.

Seungcheol just leans against your counter, watching you with that amused, unreadable expression.

“Relax,” he says. “I kind of like seeing you like this.”

You pause mid-fold. “Like what? Disheveled and unprepared?”

“Comfortable,” he corrects. “Like yourself.”

You clear your throat and gesture to the bag. “Well… you coming all this way with food means you’re definitely staying to eat, right?”

He grins. “Only if you sit next to me this time.”

“Scandalous,” you murmur, already pulling out plates. “We’ll have to keep the blinds shut. Can’t let the neighbors catch me fraternizing with the flower guy.”

He lets out a low laugh as he moves to help, and just like that, the space between you feels smaller again.

You slide the plates across the counter toward him, eyes flicking up briefly to meet his as you settle into the rhythm of unpacking the food. The scent of grilled meat, garlic, and rice fills the space, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the easy comfort of it.

“How was your morning?”

He leans back a little against your counter, breaking apart his chopsticks slowly, like he has time—like he’s in no rush at all.

“Golf,” he says. “Jeonghan roped me into it. He and Joshua have this bet going about who’ll finally beat me. Spoiler: they didn’t.”

You snort softly. “Let me guess. You smiled once and they thought something was wrong?”

He looks up at you, surprised, then chuckles. “Actually, yeah. Jeonghan thought the world was ending.”

“Because you were texting me?”

His gaze lingers on you for just a beat too long.

“Maybe.”

You look away then, biting back the way your heart trips at the casual weight of his honesty.

You try to keep your voice light. “You like golf?”

“I like the quiet,” he says. “And the way it slows everything down. Plus, it's one of the few times the guys don't expect me to be in CEO mode.”

You blink. “Wait—CEO mode?”

His smile turns crooked, caught between smug and sheepish. “You didn’t know?”

Your mouth opens, then closes. “You told me you work in management!”

“I do,” he says innocently. “Technically.”

You gape at him. “You're ridiculous.”

“And you're adorable when you're annoyed,” he replies, grinning as he sets the table with casual precision.

You shake your head, still reeling, still smiling despite yourself.

“Fine,” you say, settling down beside him. “You can be mysterious and charming and maddening later. Right now, just tell me more about your morning. What else happened?”

And he does. He tells you about the way Joshua nearly ran over Jeonghan’s foot with the golf cart. How the coffee at the clubhouse was abysmal. How the sun was too bright but the breeze made up for it. And you listen like it’s the most interesting story you’ve ever heard.

You finish the last few bites of your meal, chopsticks tapping against the empty container as you sit back with a satisfied sigh.

“So,” you say, stretching slightly, “since you’re already here, Mr. CEO—”

His brow arches, amused. “Oh, we’re using titles now?”

You ignore that smug little curve of his mouth. “Since you're already so generously spending time with a commoner like me, mind helping with a few things?”

He eyes you, mock suspicion in his gaze. “Define few.”

You push off the counter and gesture for him to follow you down the short hallway.

“It’s really just one thing. I’ve been putting it off because I like having a functional spine.”

You stop in front of your bedroom door, already bracing yourself for the impending chaos he’s about to witness. With a deep breath, you push it open and point to the far corner of the room.

“That,” you say flatly, “has not moved since I moved in. It’s heavier than it looks and it hates me.”

Seungcheol steps in behind you, eyes landing on the wide, solid wood dresser wedged awkwardly against the wall. He whistles low.

“Yeah, okay. That thing looks like it weighs more than I do.”

You cross your arms, already grinning. “Don’t be dramatic. I just need it shifted a little to the left so I can finally plug in the lamp I’ve had sitting on the floor”

“And you were just gonna… try to do this alone?”

“I tried. Got maybe an inch before I considered calling emergency services.”

He laughs, shaking his head, already flexing his fingers like he’s warming up. “Alright, move aside. Let me show you what those gym memberships are actually good for.”

You step back, arms folded, watching as he tests the weight, then—with alarming ease—shifts the dresser a few inches left, then a bit more, until it’s perfectly centered beneath the window.

“That’s it? That was like, two seconds.”

He turns, feigning a wipe of imaginary sweat from his brow. “You’re welcome, peasant.”

You scoff. “Okay, that’s the last time I compliment your arms.”

The sunlight hits him just right, painting golden streaks across his face and forearms, and for a second, the whole room feels brighter. Lighter.

“You’re trouble,” you murmur, half to yourself.

He catches it anyway, walking back over until he’s standing in front of you again, too close in that now-familiar, deliberate way.

“And you keep inviting me over,” he says, voice low and warm. “What does that make you?”

“Worse than I thought, apparently.”

He grins. “Good.”

And just like that—helping you move a dresser somehow becomes its own kind of intimacy. Domestic. Quiet. Dangerous in all the best, slow-burning ways.

Then something catches his eyes on something behind your desk. He drifts toward it, more curious than anything, his gaze pulled by the small burst of color on the wall.

It’s a collage of sorts, not perfectly arranged, but it has that personal, lived-in charm. Polaroids with slightly smudged ink dates along the bottom, movie tickets curled at the corners, scribbled notes, travel stubs, even a pressed flower or two.

A few things are clearly sentimental, a few probably meaningless to anyone but you.

But it’s the tiny folded receipt pinned neatly in the corner that catches his eye. Barely noticeable, until he sees the logo.

The bar.

He steps closer, mouth quirking slightly. “You kept this?”

You glance over from where you're fluffing the pillow he nearly flattened earlier. “Hm?”

He taps the pinned slip, and your eyes flick toward it.

“Oh.” You laugh softly, walking over to stand beside him. “Yeah. It felt... significant, I guess. A good story.”

“You keep a lot of stories, huh?” he asks, gesturing to the wall.

You shrug, suddenly shy. “I like remembering things. Even the dumb ones. Even the weird little in-between moments. They make everything feel more real.”

“Where’s the part where you almost got kissed by a stranger pretending to be your boyfriend?”

You narrow your eyes at him playfully. “You’re lucky I didn’t choose someone taller.”

“I’m lucky you chose me at all,” he says, quiet but clear, not teasing.

The silence that follows isn’t awkward. It’s full—warm. Like the pause after a really good line in a movie, one that doesn’t need music or movement to make it matter.

You glance back at the wall, at the receipt, the night that started all of this.

“Guess that night’s part of the wall now,” you murmur. “Part of the story.”

His eyes flick back to you, amused. “So you’re the sentimental type.”

You raise a brow, lips twitching. “Why? That not fit into your little criteria?”

Seungcheol tilts his head slightly, eyes scanning you in that quietly intense way that always makes you feel like you’re being read instead of looked at. His voice drops, warm and smooth.

“I don’t think I ever had a real list.”

You scoff lightly. “Please. Everyone has a list.”

He grins. “Fine. Maybe I thought I’d go for someone less likely to keep bar receipts and concert stubs like museum exhibits.”

You feign offense. “Wow. So judgmental for someone who literally sent me florals with emotional implications.”

“That was strategic,” he deadpans.

“Mm-hmm. And I’m sure flirting with me in front of your friends was all part of some master CEO plan too.”

He doesn’t answer right away. Just studies you for a long moment, something unreadable behind that steady gaze.

From then on, the flowers keep coming. Not every day but often enough that it’s clear there’s a pattern. An intention.

Sometimes it’s a soft arrangement of lilies and baby’s breath that arrives late in the morning with a note scrawled in that clean, all-too-neat handwriting: Don’t skip lunch today.

Other days it’s bold peonies or deep red ranunculus, tucked into a glass vase that seems to match your desk without trying.

One morning it’s a single sunflower with a post-it: Because you were complaining about deadlines. Sun’s out now.

And in between the deliveries, there are lunches—casual, spontaneous. A text at 11:32 a.m.: You free? I’m craving something spicy.

Or dinner on the way home from work, when you say you’re too tired to cook and he offers takeout. He picks you up like it’s routine, like the two of you have been doing this for years.

He holds doors open, lets you steal bites off his plate, keeps track of which side of the booth you like to sit on. He remembers you hate soggy fries and that you get cranky when you skip breakfast. And when your wrist started aching from too much typing, a small ergonomic mouse showed up at your office two days later. No note. No message. Just Seungcheol, a few hours later at dinner, asking casually, You get that thing I sent? Like he hadn’t just studied your habits like they were blueprints.

One night, you tease him. “You always feed people this well when you’re trying to win them over?”

He glances at you across the table, eyes warm, steady.

“No,” he says. “Just you.”

And it’s not a confession. Not really but your heart answers like it is. He grins at that—slow and lazy, like he’s been waiting for you to say it.

“Careful now,” you say, voice light, but your eyes don’t leave his, “I might get used to being spoiled.”

He leans back in his seat, one arm draped over the back of the booth, and he gives you that look

“And what exactly would be the downside of that?”

You hum, pretending to consider it, swirling the last of your drink with your straw. “Mm, I don’t know. Expectations. Disappointment. Sudden withdrawal of dumpling privileges.”

He chuckles, low and smooth. “I don’t take things back once I give them.”

You glance at him sideways, the corner of your mouth lifting. “Sounds like a threat.”

He tilts his head, his smile softening. “Sounds like a promise.”

For a second, the noise of the restaurant fades behind the weight of those words—like the hum of conversation, the clink of plates, even the music playing overhead all quiet just enough to make space for the way he’s looking at you.

You feel it, the shift. Again.

And you could say something sarcastic, you could push it away with another joke—but you don’t. Instead, you let the moment hang there, rich and charged.

“You keep this up,” you murmur, “and I might start thinking you actually like me.”

He doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink.

“Good,” he says. “That’s the idea.”

You swirl your drink once more, watching the ice clink softly against the glass before glancing up at him with a sly tilt to your head.

“So…” you start, casual—too casual. “How many more dinners like this before the kiss?”

Seungcheol’s fingers pause mid-reach for his glass, his eyes lifting to yours, slow and deliberate. There’s that smirk again—just a shade more dangerous now, edged with the kind of tension you’ve both been dancing around for days.

He leans in a little, arms resting on the table, and his voice drops low. “You keeping count?”

You shrug, the corner of your mouth twitching. “I’m just saying… that first night? You played the part really well. Had me thinking you were the type to go in for the dramatic, sweep-her-off-her-feet, movie-scene kiss.”

“I remember,” he says. “You were looking at me like you were waiting for it.”

Your laugh is soft, quiet. “Maybe I was.”

“So what number is this then? Dinner four? Five? Let’s call it four and a half. One of those was technically just noodles and complaining about work.”

“So what you’re saying is… I’m close.” You lift your glass to your lips, hiding your grin behind the rim.

“Closer than you think. Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth the wait.”

And you believe him. God help you, you really do.

“You’re really making me wait for this kiss, huh?”

Seungcheol’s lips part, not in surprise exactly, but like he wasn’t expecting you to say it so directly. His gaze drops to your mouth for the briefest second, and it’s subtlebut enough that your heart skips once, hard.

He exhales, and the corner of his mouth lifts like he’s trying not to let it turn into a full smile. “I told you,” he murmurs, “I make things worth it.”

“Yeah, but now I’m starting to think you like the anticipation too much.”

“I do,” he says without missing a beat. “But I like your reaction more.”

Your brows lift. “My reaction?”

“The way you look at me,” he says, quietly now, eyes not wavering. “The way you lean in just a little closer when you think I might—” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Just lets it hang there between you, heavy and electric.

“You’re dangerous,” you whisper. Your heart’s hammering now, a rhythm too loud to ignore, and still he doesn’t close the distance.

“You’re really not going to kiss me,” you say, half a laugh, half a dare.

He tilts his head slightly, like he’s deciding something. Then—

“I will,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “But not here.”

Your breath catches. “Why not?”

His eyes flick to the restaurant around you. “Because when I finally do, I’m not sharing it with a room full of strangers.”

And just like that, your skin is flushed, your chest tight, and you’re no longer thinking about how long it’s been—but how close you are now. How much more you want.

The moment you step out into the night, the cool air brushing against your skin like a sigh, his hand finds yours. No hesitation. No theatrics. Just warm fingers threading through yours like they’ve done it a thousand times.

You glance at him, heart kicking once against your ribs.

He doesn’t look over. Doesn’t need to. His grip is steady, his stride unhurried, and there’s something about the way he holds you—like it’s not even a decision anymore. Just instinct.

When you reach the car, he lets go only to open the door for you. Still without a word. Still with that same quiet, unrushed certainty. He waits until you’re seated, until the seatbelt clicks, before he rounds the front and slides into the driver’s seat beside you.

No questions.

No where to?

He starts the engine and pulls out into the street like he already knows. Because he does. He’s memorized your route home—left turns, shortcut alleys, that one spot where traffic always sucks near the crosswalk.

And for a moment, you sit in the silence of the ride, his hand resting on the gearshift, the lights of the city playing soft across his profile.

You lean your head against the seat, watching him through the slow hum of passing streetlights. “You’re a little scary when you’re this confident.”

“I’m always this confident,” he murmurs, eyes forward, that same grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

You laugh under your breath. “Cocky.”

He doesn’t deny it. But when he reaches over at the next red light, brushing his thumb across the back of your hand, there’s a softness in it—something that betrays the calm exterior. Something that says: I’m not rushing. But I’m sure.

And it steals your breath more than any kiss might’ve.

Seungcheol’s already at his desk when Jeonghan strolls into his office unannounced, like he owns the place. He’s got that look on his face too. mischief bubbling just beneath the surface, like he’s been waiting for this all morning.

Seungcheol doesn’t look up from his laptop. “No.”

“I didn’t even say anything yet,” Jeonghan counters, already dropping into one of the chairs across from the desk, far too comfortable for someone who doesn’t technically work in this building.

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

Jeonghan grins. “Fine. If you insist, I’ll start. One: she completely held her own last night. Didn’t flinch once when Mingyu started rapid-ordering food like he was feeding an army.”

Recalling last night when Seungcheol took you with him for drinks out with the guys. Surprising everyone.

“She’s impressive,” Seungcheol says simply, and this time he does glance up, barely trying to hide the small, proud smile tugging at his mouth.

Jeonghan points. “That. That smile. That’s what I came here for. I knew you were gone the moment she toasted Soonyoung under the table.”

Seungcheol just leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers together. “He challenged her. It’s on him.”

“And she won. You know what that means? She’s one of us now. And more importantly…” Jeonghan leans in dramatically. “You’re so in it, man.”

“I drove her home,” Seungcheol says casually, but the softness in his voice betrays him.

Jeonghan narrows his eyes. “And?”

“And nothing.”

Jeonghan groans. “You’re seriously dragging this out? You're the most controlled man I know, and even I was rooting for a kiss.”

Seungcheol just smirks. “Told her I’d kiss her when she’s sober.”

Jeonghan stares. Then throws his head back with a groan. “You’re hopeless. Ridiculously swoony and hopeless.”

“I like her,” Seungcheol says, tone low and honest.

And that—that—makes Jeonghan pause. His teasing drops, just for a second. Because when Seungcheol says it like that, not as a joke or a half-guarded confession, but as a fact... it’s real.

He leans back, quieter now. “Yeah. I know you do.”

There’s a beat of silence between them before Jeonghan can’t help himself. “Still. If this ends in wedding bells, I’m officiating. Or, at the very least, giving the toast.”

Seungcheol sighs, already regretting letting him in.

Jeonghan grins again. “Don’t worry. I’ll start writing my speech.”

The city blurs past the windows in a soft hum of motion, headlights washing warm streaks of gold across your skin as you talk—casually, openly, like you always do now.

You’re curled in the passenger seat with your legs tucked under you, your shoes kicked off and your fingers fidgeting absently with the soft edge of the blanket draped over your lap. His blanket. The one he insisted on leaving in the car after you shivered just once during a late drive home.

Seungcheol doesn’t say much as you talk, but he glances over often—tiny flickers of attention between the road and you, like he’s memorizing pieces of the moment to revisit later. His left hand rests on the steering wheel, right one easy on the gear shift, the movement of his thumb mirroring the rhythm of your voice. Calm. Comforting.

You’re halfway through rambling about a disaster of a meeting you had that morning when your train of thought stutters.

“Oh,” you say, almost too quickly. “I—actually. Meant to ask you something.”

He hums, a lazy sound that rumbles in his chest. “Yeah?”

You hesitate. Just a second too long. He picks up on it immediately, his gaze flickering your way.

You’re looking down now, fiddling with the corner of the blanket, suddenly hyperaware of the lip gloss you left in his cup holder and the extra hair tie wrapped around his rearview mirror. There are little bits of you all over his car now. Just like there are little bits of him scattered across your days.

“So…” you start, trying for casual, but it comes out a little breathy. “There’s this wedding. In a couple weeks. One of my friends from college.”

You chance a glance at him. He’s still driving, still calm, but his head tilts slightly. Listening.

“I kind of... need a plus one,” you go on. “Well, I don’t need one, technically, but everyone’s bringing someone, and—” You bite your lip, nerves buzzing. “I just thought maybe… if you’re free, you could come? With me.”

“You want me to go with you?” he asks, voice low, like he’s checking—really checking—that he heard right.

You nod, trying to keep your voice light, even as your heart feels like it’s doing cartwheels. “Yeah. I mean, you’d probably hate it. Lots of mingling. Dancing. Champagne. Small talk with strangers.”

He smiles a little. “And you want me to be your date.”

You blink at him. “Well… yeah.”

The light turns green. He doesn’t move. Not yet. His eyes are on you, steady and searching, and the longer he looks, the more you feel exposed—in a good way. In a real way.

“I’ll go,” he says finally, with that soft certainty that always makes your chest ache. “Of course I’ll go.”

Your breath whooshes out of you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he repeats, eyes on the road now as the car starts moving again. “But only if I get to keep pretending I’m your boyfriend.”

You laugh, startled by how easy he makes it feel, how warm your chest goes at his words. “Is that what you’ve been doing all this time? Pretending?”

His grip on the steering wheel shifts. “You tell me.”

And you don’t answer right away, not because you don’t know but because the answer sits somewhere in the middle of your ribs, nestled against every glance, every ride home, every shoulder kiss and every moment he’s chosen to stay.

When you reach your building, he parks without asking for directions. Of course he does. He knows the way by heart now.

As you’re getting out, he catches your wrist gently. “Text me the details,” he says, voice lower now, more serious. “What time. What to wear.”

You nod, and your throat’s a little tight. “Okay.”

It’s one of those perfect afternoons. the kind that hangs suspended between spring and summer, warm without being too hot, a breeze just light enough to make your dress flutter as you wait outside your building.

You’re not waiting long.

His car pulls up exactly on time, and you catch sight of him behind the wheel through the windshield—dark suit, crisp white shirt, and a tie that looks suspiciously like it was chosen to match the color of your dress.

Your heart kicks up, stupid and traitorous in your chest, because he looks good. Too good. Like the kind of man who belongs on magazine covers, not in your driveway.

And then he steps out.

He smooths a hand down the front of his suit jacket, one brow lifting the moment he sees you. “Wow,” he says, low and honest, eyes sweeping over you with a slow, appreciative gaze that makes heat crawl up your neck. “I knew you’d look beautiful, but... I wasn’t ready.”

You try for casual, but your grin gives you away. “You clean up alright yourself, Mr. CEO.”

He holds the car door open for you without a word, and when you slide in, you spot the little extra things right away. Your favorite mints in the cup holder. A spare hair tie looped on the gearshift. He doesn’t say anything about them, but the details are there—always there.

“You nervous?” he asks at one point, tone light.

You shake your head. “About the wedding? No. They’re the ones getting married. I’m just there to eat cake.”

He smiles. “About me being your date, then?”

You pause, then look over at him with a soft grin. “Not even a little.”

When you get to the venue, it’s like the entire world slows for a second. The moment you both step out of the car and walk in together—side by side, his hand hovering at the small of your back, your arms brushing as you walk—you feel it. The glances. The looks.

You were right. Everyone did bring someone. And yet somehow, you’re the one that people can’t stop staring at.

Because of him.

Because of the way Seungcheol exists in a room like he’s always been meant to be there—quietly powerful, quietly yours.

Introductions start slow. your friends immediately curious, trying to figure him out. But Seungcheol handles them all with the kind of smooth charm that makes you want to simultaneously laugh and melt.

He’s polite. Warm. Slightly reserved. But he doesn’t leave your side once, and when your hand accidentally brushes his under the table during dinner, he doesn’t pull away.

It’s only when you're both standing off to the side during a slow song, sipping champagne and laughing at the clumsy first-dance attempts on the floor, that he leans down, voice brushing your ear.

“You know,” he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you stop smiling since we got here.”

You glance up at him, heart thudding. “Yeah? Is that a bad thing?”

He meets your eyes. “No. I think I’d like to be the reason behind it more often.”

He holds out his hand. “Come dance with me?”

And with your fingers in his, his suit pressed lightly to your side, his palm warm at your back, you finally stop waiting. Because this, him, was worth every slow, drawn-out second.

You don’t realize how naturally it happens. How easily you lean into him, how right it feels to have your hand resting lightly on his shoulder while his other hand holds your waist, not too tight, but firm.

“You’re not a bad dancer,” you murmur, the tease threading through your voice.

Seungcheol lets out a low laugh, eyes twinkling as he looks down at you. “I had to learn. It was either that or embarrass myself at corporate galas.”

You tilt your head, smirking. “So I’m your rehearsal?”

He leans in, just enough that you feel his breath along your cheek. “No,” he says softly. “You’re the reason I’m glad I learned.”

That shuts you up for a second—not because you don’t have a comeback, but because the way he says it—earnest, grounded—makes your heart stumble in your chest.

“I still haven’t kissed you,” he says quietly, almost like he’s reminding himself. “And you’ve been very patient.”

“Painfully patient,” you whisper back. He smiles, but it’s different this time. Not teasing. Just full of something so genuine it makes your stomach twist.

“But this moment,” he says, pulling you in just a little closer, “this right here… I didn’t want to rush it. You deserve the good kind of build-up.”

You swallow. “So… this is a build-up?”

“Isn’t it?” he murmurs. “Every time I pick you up. Every dinner. Every time you leave your things in my car on purpose.”

“I don’t—” You try to defend yourself, but he grins, cutting you off.

“I like it,” he admits. “I like all of it. Even the fact that your lip gloss has now permanently scented my dashboard.”

You laugh, cheeks warm. “You’re very sentimental for someone who pretends not to be.”

“And you’re very brave for someone who said they weren’t looking for anything serious,” he counters.

That gives you pause. Because he’s not wrong.

You didn’t plan for any of this. But then again, you didn’t plan on walking up to a stranger at a bar just to escape a persistent creep either. And now… now you’re dancing with that stranger at your friend’s wedding while the night curls around the two of you like it knew.

“I still don’t know what we are,” you say finally, your voice lower, honest.

Seungcheol’s thumb brushes your waist gently, like he feels the shift.

“You don’t have to name it,” he says. “Not yet.”

“But you already have,” you murmur, meeting his gaze.

He looks at you for a long second. “Only in my head.”

You smile. “What is it, then?”

His grip on you tightens ever so slightly.

“Mine.” he says.

Just like that the music slows to an end, but he doesn't let go. And when the moment feels just too full, too warm, too close. His hand lifts gently to your jaw. His thumb grazes your cheek. And this time, finally, he doesn’t kiss your shoulder.

He kisses you.

It’s soft at first. A gentle brush of lips that speaks less of fireworks and more of certainty like he’s been waiting for just the right moment.

You don’t even realize your hands have slipped up to his chest, anchoring yourself as his other arm wraps around your waist to keep you close. There’s no rush, no urgency. Just the quiet, unspoken truth of it sinking into your bones—that this kiss was a long time coming. T

When you part, barely an inch between you, your forehead lingers against his. Your heart beats like it’s trying to memorize the rhythm of his.

“Finally,” you whisper.

Seungcheol chuckles, low and husky, still close enough that his breath grazes your lips. “Was it worth the wait?”

You tilt your head just enough to press another soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’ll let you know after the second one.”

He smiles like he can’t help it, like something warm is cracking open in his chest. “Greedy.”

“Very,” you reply without missing a beat.

You don’t even care that you’re standing in the middle of a wedding reception, that people are milling around behind you with cake and champagne and whispered guesses about who you are. None of that matters.

Because he’s still looking at you like you’re the only thing that does.

When you got to your building he offered to walk you up. Standing outside your door, your fingers are curled into the lapel of Seungcheol’s suit jacket, your mouth barely a breath away from his when the sound of someone clearing their throat slices right through the moment.

You both flinch, pulling apart like guilty teenagers caught sneaking out after curfew.

Your eyes widen. “Oh my god.”

Your mom stands there in front of your apartment door, arms crossed and one brow raised with terrifying precision, the classic mom look of I have questions and you better answer them properly.

She blinks slowly, then turns to Seungcheol with the kind of pointed interest that has your soul trying to escape your body.

“And who,” she says, sweetly, “might this be?”

You swallow. “Uh. Hi, Mom. What are you doing here?”

“I texted. You didn’t answer. So I thought I’d drop off some side dishes I made.” She holds up the container bag like evidence. “Good thing I came, it seems.”

You’re nearly sweating. Seungcheol, on the other hand, somehow still looks calm. Like he didn’t just almost get caught mid-doorstep make-out by your mother.

He straightens, then offers your mom a polite bow. “Good evening, ma’am. I’m Choi Seungcheol. I was just dropping her off after a wedding.”

Your mom gives him a long once-over, then side-eyes you. “A wedding? Interesting. And how long has this Choi Seungcheol been around?”

“Mom,” you groan, but Seungcheol beats you to it.

“Not very long,” he replies easily. “But I’m hoping to stick around a while.”

You gape at him.

Your mom narrows her eyes. “Is that right?”

“If she’ll let me.”

Your mom stares at him another beat. Then to your utter disbelief, she… smiles. “Hmm. Well. At least you’re polite.”

You’re still recovering when she presses the container into your hands. “These are for you. You too, I suppose, since you’re clearly being fed well.”

Seungcheol accepts them with a small bow and a quiet “thank you.”

Your mom gives him one last look, then leans in to whisper (not quietly at all), “She likes flowers. And she talks in her sleep.”

“Mom!”

She pats your cheek and strolls away like she didn’t just commit emotional homicide.

You turn to Seungcheol, mortified. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe—”

But he’s already smiling. Like really smiling. “That was the best first ‘meet the parent’ ambush I’ve ever had.”

Seungcheol’s in his office early the next morning, already settled in behind his desk. His sleeves are rolled up, fingers tapping out a light rhythm on the edge of his desk as he hums a low, tuneless melody to himself.

He’s got that look on his face, the rare kind his staff sees maybe three times a year, a glint in his eyes like he just won the lottery and the stock market. Every so often, he pauses to check his phone, then smiles like someone just whispered a joke in his ear.

That’s exactly the energy Joshua and Jeonghan walk in on.

“Okay,” Jeonghan says slowly, not even trying to hide the suspicion in his voice. “Who are you and what have you done with our very serious, emotionally constipated CEO?”

Seungcheol doesn’t look up. “Good morning to you too.”

Joshua squints. “Is that... whistling? Are you—tapping your foot?”

Jeonghan drops into the seat across from him and kicks his legs up on the coffee table like he owns the place. “You’re smiling. Like smiling smiling. The last time you were this chipper was when we landed the Tokyo account and you got to yell at someone in perfect Japanese.”

Joshua leans against the wall. “No offense, man, but it’s kind of weirding me out. Is this like… a blood sugar thing? Are you okay?”

Seungcheol leans back in his chair, stretching with a soft groan and a big, satisfied sigh. “I’m great.”

“Yeah. We can tell.” Jeonghan raises a brow. “So go on. Tell the class. What happened”

Seungcheol doesn’t answer right away, just glances at his phone again with that same soft smile playing at his lips.

Jeonghan and Joshua exchange looks.

“Oh my god,” Jeonghan breathes, sitting up straighter. “It’s her, isn’t it? The bar girl. Your girl.”

Joshua’s eyes widen. “The one who literally drank Soonyoung under the table?”

“She’s not my girl, yet” Seungcheol says quickly—but his voice betrays him with the slightest upward lilt at the end, like even he doesn’t believe himself.

Jeonghan leans forward, both elbows on his knees. “So what happened last night? Because whatever it was, you’re acting like a man in love.”

“I am not in—” Seungcheol stops himself, mutters something under his breath, then groans as he runs a hand over his face. “You two are insufferable.”

“Did she finally kiss you?”

“Technically,” Seungcheol replies slowly, “I kissed her. But only after she asked for the third time.”

Jeonghan lets out a bark of laughter. “Took you long enough, Romeo.”

“It wasn’t about taking my time,” Seungcheol mumbles, and then lowers his voice, more to himself than to them. “I just… didn’t want to screw it up.”

There’s a beat of quiet.

Joshua softens. “You like her.”

Seungcheol doesn’t look up. “Yeah.”

Jeonghan’s watching him, a little differently now. Less teasing, more thoughtful. “It’s serious, isn’t it?”

“She asked me to be her plus-one to a wedding,” Seungcheol replies, then glances at them, almost shy. “And I met her mom.”

Joshua and Jeonghan practically explode.

“You what?”

Seungcheol winces. “It wasn’t planned—her mom showed up at her apartment with side dishes and caught us on the doorstep. Thought I was her boyfriend or something.”

Jeonghan is beside himself. “And you survived? No wounds? No emotional damage?”

“She liked me.”

“Okay, that’s it,” Joshua says. “We’re done for. He’s in too deep.”

“Send help,” Jeonghan deadpans, placing a hand over his heart. “Our friend is gone. Replaced by this domestic, well-fed, love-struck clone.”

“I’m not love-struck.”

“You’re literally glowing.”

Seungcheol shakes his head with a small chuckle. “Shut up.”

But he’s still smiling.

Seungcheol’s phone buzzes once, then again—your contact lighting up on the screen. His hand darts for the phone almost too eagerly, thumb swiping before the second ring finishes.

“Hey,” he answers, voice dropping into something soft and familiar, like the two of you are already alone in a room and not with Jeonghan and Joshua both watching like hawks from a few feet away.

You laugh softly on the other end. “Hi. Sorry, are you busy?”

“No,” he says without hesitation. “I’ve got time.”

Jeonghan mouths liar and Joshua smirks.

“So, I was gonna text, but my mom insisted I call. She’s making dinner tonight and… well, she asked if you’d like to come?”

His heart skips in a way he’s not used to—it’s not nerves exactly, more like… something warm curling in his chest. He stands slowly, pacing to the side of the office, back turned as if it’ll make the conversation any more private.

“You sure?” he asks, lowering his voice. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not,” you assure him. “She literally made enough for an army and said, and I quote, ‘tell that polite boy to come hungry.’”

He chuckles, unable to help himself. “Guess I can’t say no to that.”

“Seven okay?”

“Perfect.” He smiles again, stupid and wide and absolutely forgetting that he is not alone.

“I’ll see you tonight then.”

“Yeah,” he says, still in that soft tone only reserved for you. “Looking forward to it.”

The call ends. He stares at the screen for a second longer before pocketing his phone, already mentally rearranging the rest of his day.

Then he turns around.

Joshua is grinning like a fox. Jeonghan has both hands folded like he’s praying. “Okay. Let’s try that again. You’re not love-struck?”

Seungcheol sighs, running a hand through his hair, the soft grin on his lips refusing to fade. “She invited me to dinner. Her mom’s cooking.”

“Oh my god,” Jeonghan groans dramatically. “That’s domesticity. That’s serious.”

“You’re doomed,” Joshua chimes in cheerfully. “Next thing we know, you’ll be asking us to be groomsmen.”

“Shut up,”

You’re halfway through setting the table when the doorbell rings, and your mom, already at the stove with her sleeves rolled up, waves you off with a knowing smile. “He’s early. That one’s got good manners. Go let him in.”

You smooth down your shirt, trying not to look too eager, but your feet are already hurrying toward the door.

When you open it, Seungcheol is there dressed in that casually polished way that makes it look like he stepped off the cover of a weekend magazine. Button-up sleeves rolled just once, watch peeking out, hair slightly tousled like he ran his fingers through it before he knocked.

And in his hands?

Two bouquets.

You blink. “Are you trying to start a flower shop?”

He grins, lifting both arrangements slightly. “One’s for you.” He holds out the first—soft colors, delicate petals, your favorites, of course. “And the other’s for your mom.”

You take the bouquet, inhaling the sweet scent with a tiny smile before stepping aside. “She’s going to love that. You just earned, like, ten extra points.”

“I’m trying to rack them up,” he says lightly, stepping in and revealing the dessert box in his other hand. “Also, I may or may not have picked up your favorite. You know… just in case.”

You glance down and immediately light up. “You remembered?”

“Please,” he scoffs playfully. “You’ve only ranted about it, what, three times? Of course I remembered.”

You laugh as you lead him inside, his shoulder brushing yours in that easy, now-familiar way. Your mom peeks out from the kitchen, and her smile grows when she sees the extra bouquet.

“Oh, you charmer,” she says warmly, walking over to greet him. “Flowers again? You’re going to make all the other boys look bad.”

Seungcheol offers her the bouquet with both hands and a small bow. “I figured last time I came empty-handed, so I had to make up for it.”

Dinner’s warm and loud, your mom doing most of the talking while Seungcheol listens, chimes in with small jokes, and praises her cooking so sincerely she beams every time he opens his mouth. He’s relaxed here, blending in like he’s done it a hundred times, and somehow that’s the part that gets you.

Later, after helping clean up and exchanging stories with your mom, the two of you step out into the cool night air.

He walks beside you in silence for a moment, then glances over. “So... still thinking about replacing me with someone from a crime documentary?”

You laugh. “I don’t know. That guy probably wouldn’t have brought dessert and flowers.”

He nudges you gently. “Damn right.”

You turn to him, slowing a little on the steps outside your building. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it.”

And there’s that pause again—that loaded, quiet moment. You can feel it, humming between you. All the things unsaid but understood. No labels, no big declarations. Just gestures and quiet moments and the space he fills beside you like he’s always belonged there.

You lean in and kiss his cheek. He’s already smiling before your lips brush his skin.

“Don’t make me wait forever, Mr. CEO.”

He grins, eyes flicking to yours. “Patience, pretty girl. I’ve got a plan.”

And somehow, you believe him.

The moment you step back inside, your mom's perched on the couch like she never moved. She's got a cup of tea in hand and a look on her face that immediately makes you nervous—too calm, too unreadable, which only ever means she’s up to something.

Seungcheol follows behind you, quietly helping carry the dessert box into the kitchen, but before either of you can pretend the evening is winding down smoothly, your mom speaks up—tone light, but very deliberate.

“So…” she starts, gaze sliding over to Seungcheol like she’s just making small talk, “are you gonna marry my girl, or what?”

You nearly choke on air. “Mom!”

“What?” she shrugs, totally unbothered. “You’re both at the right age. You like each other. He’s handsome, polite, he brings flowers and dessert. I don’t want to wait another five years for grandchildren.”

“Oh my god—” you groan, half-burying your face in your hands.

But Seungcheol? Not flustered. Not even close. In fact, the traitorous man has the audacity to smile. A slow, confident one that only makes your embarrassment worse.

“Well,” he says, glancing at you before looking back at your mom, “if she keeps letting me stick around, who knows?”

Your mom raises a brow, then nods approvingly. “Good answer. You’re growing on me more and more, you know that?”

Seungcheol laughs, and you’re halfway to combusting. “Okay! Time to say goodnight, this interrogation is over,” you declare, grabbing his wrist and tugging him toward the door.

“Bye, Mom,” you grumble over your shoulder.

Your mom just waves, clearly pleased with herself. “Bye, future son-in-law!”

Seungcheol chuckles under his breath all the way down the hall. When the elevator doors close, he glances at you, amused. “So… how long do I have before she starts dress shopping?”

You glare up at him, still pink in the face. “Don’t you dare encourage her.”

“Too late.” He leans a little closer. “But if it helps…” His voice dips, teasing. “I am starting to like the sound of it.”

The elevator hums quietly as it takes you both downstairs, your hand tucked into Seungcheol’s without thinking. You walk him out to his car, the evening air crisp and still, soft with city quiet. He unlocks the door, but neither of you moves just yet.

“I’m just warning you,” you say, voice teasing, glancing up at him through your lashes. “Next time you come over, she’s not going to be asking if you’re marrying me.”

“No?”

You shake your head, grinning. “Nope. She’s skipping right ahead to asking when you’re giving her a grandchild.”

He chuckles low in his throat, eyes twinkling. “That so?”

“I can see it already,” you continue dramatically, “She’ll be standing in the kitchen, apron on, casually stirring soup while dropping 'So when’s the baby due?' like it’s small talk.”

Seungcheol leans against the car, folding his arms, that amused smile never leaving his face. “Well… we have kissed now,” he says, playful but soft. “I guess that means I should be prepared for her to start knitting booties.”

You swat his arm, trying not to laugh. “You’re too comfortable with this.”

“I’m comfortable with you,” he replies easily, gaze settling on you in that way that makes your heart skip and stumble all at once.

Seungcheol shifts closer, one hand brushing your hip before resting there, gentle but sure. “And hey,” he says, voice low, “about that kiss…”

Your breath hitches, and before you can even answer, he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours—slow and deliberate, nothing rushed, like he’s memorizing the shape of your mouth all over again.

He pulls back only slightly, close enough that his nose still brushes yours. “Still got more where that came from.”

You manage a breathless laugh, fingers curling in the front of his shirt. “Dangerous man.”

He grins. “Only for you.”

When he finally slides into the driver’s seat, you linger by the open door. “Text me when you get home.”

He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Of course I will.”

You step back, watching as he pulls out of the lot, his hand lifting briefly in a lazy wave. And as you head back to your apartment, you already know: your mom’s going to be impossible next time.

You barely make it three steps into your apartment before your mom, still lounging in the living room like she owns the place (she kind of does, considering she brought over food and stayed uninvited), looks up from her tea and levels you with that look.

Not smug. Not surprised. Just deeply, motherly knowing.

“Oh,” she says, setting her cup down with an audible clink. “I see what this is.”

“What’s what?” you ask, walking past her, pretending to be busy as you head toward the kitchen.

But she doesn’t let you off that easy. She turns in her seat and calls out—voice just a touch singsongy.

“You love the guy.”

“What?” You laugh, unconvincing. “I don’t—what? That’s a lot, don’t you think?”

She stands, follows you to the kitchen like a shark who smells blood—or in this case, feelings.

“I’ve been watching you all day. You were smiling at your phone like a teenager,” she says, opening the fridge like she owns that too. “And when he came over? You lit up like someone plugged you in.”

You open a cabinet just to have something to do with your hands. “He’s just… nice.”

“Oh, no. Not just nice. He’s thoughtful. Respectful. Tall. Brings flowers. Carries dessert. Helped you move furniture. That man looked at you like you’re the only person on the planet.” She shuts the fridge.

“And you my sweet girl, you looked right back like he hung the moon.”

You groan, leaning against the counter. “You really don’t pull punches, huh?”

She smiles, proud. “I’m your mother. It’s my job to see through the nonsense.”

The smile that crept onto your face when Seungcheol kissed you tonight is still there. You feel it even now, this warmth that’s settled behind your ribs. It’s soft and terrifying and real.

And when you look back up, your mom’s just watching you with that soft expression, the one that says she’s been waiting for this kind of happiness to find you.

You sigh, eyes rolling, voice barely above a murmur. “Fine. I like him.”

She raises a brow.

“Okay,” you grumble. “I really like him.”

Her smile widens as she turns back toward the living room. “Took you long enough.”

The phone barely rings once before he picks up, voice warm and low like honey over gravel.

“Hey, baby.”

You swear your brain short-circuits for a second. The word hits you with a quiet thud right in the chest, catching you off guard even though you should be used to it by now.

“Hi,” you say, a beat late, already smiling into the receiver. “Okay, I forgot what I was gonna say for a second.”

There’s a soft laugh on his end, the kind that rumbles just under his breath. “That’s a good sign.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks warm. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late.”

You lean against the kitchen counter, heart still doing that embarrassing little flutter. “I was just calling to see if you were gonna be busy later… I was planning to cook dinner.”

He goes quiet for half a second. Not because he’s hesitating—just because you know he’s already rearranging his whole evening in his head.

“Do I get to watch you cook?” he asks, voice lighter now, teasing.

You smirk. “That depends. Are you just gonna stand there looking pretty and touching nothing?”

“Depends. Can I taste-test?”

You scoff. “You’re just in it for the food.”

“Not true,” he says, soft again now, “but it is a very nice bonus.”

You pretend to sigh. “So… does that mean you’re coming?”

“I’ll be there,” he says without skipping a beat. “Tell me what time and I’ll bring wine.”

The ease of it makes your chest feel full, like the kind of full that wraps around your ribs and stays there.

The knock on your door is right on time—because of course it is. You’re still smoothing down your shirt when you open it, and there he is.

Wine in one hand. Flowers in the other. And that stupid smile on his face that already has you forgetting whatever it was you were about to say.

“Hi,” you breathe, just a little breathless at the sight of him. He’s in a casual button-down, sleeves rolled, hair a little messy like he ran his hands through it on the drive over. He looks good. Too good.

“For you,” he says, lifting the bouquet

“You really don’t have to keep bringing these every time, you know.”

“I know,” he says easily, already slipping out of his shoes and placing the wine on your counter. “But I like watching you smile when I do.”

You open your mouth to come up with a witty response, but it never makes it out. Because he’s suddenly in your space arms curling around your waist as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

Clingy. He’s so clingy tonight. And you love it.

“You okay?” you murmur, hugging him back.

“Just missed you,” he replies against your hair, like it’s that simple.

“You’re really not gonna let me cook, are you?” you ask, laughing as you try to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Nope.” He grins, chin resting on your shoulder. “This is a hostage situation now.”

“You’re clingy.”

“You love it.”

You glance at him over your shoulder. “I do.”

That earns you a kiss to the cheek. Then the temple. Then your neck. He’s shameless tonight. Unapologetically soft.

You try to cut up onions, but his arms stay wrapped around you the entire time, body warm at your back, like he can’t stand to be even an inch away. By the time dinner’s ready, he’s seated too close at the table, knees brushing yours under it, foot tapping against your ankle.

And when you pass him a bowl, he doesn’t let go of your hand right away. Just holds it for a second longer, thumb brushing your wrist.

“I could get used to this,” he says softly.

You smile, eyes locked with his.

He’s standing at your sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, strong hands buried in soapy water. Your purple apron is tied securely around his waist. your apron, the one with little hearts embroidered along the hem and a faint stain from that time you spilled sauce and never quite got it out.

You’re halfway through wiping down the counter when you glance up and pause, arms frozen mid-motion. Because this scene in front of you is almost too much.

Choi Seungcheol, your moody, broody, suit-wearing, don’t-mess-with-me CEO, is currently humming under his breath while washing your dinner plates in a heart-covered apron like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You wrap your arms around his middle from behind, chin pressed against the back of his shoulder. He pauses.

Then smiles, water still running as he leans back just slightly into your hold. “You done cleaning?”

“Mostly,” you hum. “I just needed a break to admire this sight.”

He chuckles, voice low, the sound vibrating through his back and into your chest. “What sight?”

“You. Domestic. In my kitchen. In my apron.”

“You mean your very fashionable, extremely purple apron?” he says, glancing down at it with mock seriousness.

“Mhm. It suits you.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah,” you say, drawing out the tease. “You look like the type of man who says things like ‘dinner’s ready, honey’ and then washes the dishes without being asked.”

“If you wanted to brag to someone, you could’ve just taken a picture.”

It’s a little surreal, stepping into the bar again after all these months.

The lighting’s still dim, the music low and pulsing in the background, familiar laughter echoing from the same corner booth the guys always seem to claim. Only this time, there’s no desperate escape from a stranger’s attention, no half-baked plan to use the intimidating guy in the corner to save yourself.

This time, you’re walking in hand-in-hand with him.

Seungcheol is dressed down, a fitted black tee and jeans that still somehow manage to make him look unfairly good. His hand is warm in yours, thumb drawing absent little circles on the back of your palm as he greets the guys already mid-round of drinks.

Jeonghan spots you first, grinning like he’s been waiting. “There they are! The king and queen have arrived.”

You roll your eyes. Seungcheol just chuckles, guiding you into the booth beside him. His arm slides across the back of your seat, casual and easy, but his fingers find your shoulder and rest there, grounding you like always.

It’s comfortable—normal, now.

You catch Joshua glancing between you two, a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Kind of wild to think it all started here, huh?”

You raise a brow. “What, the bar?”

“The act,” he teases, nodding toward Seungcheol. “Captain Broody pretending to be your boyfriend.”

“Oh,” you laugh, nudging Seungcheol playfully. “Right. That little performance.”

“Wasn’t much of an act,” he mutters, just quiet enough for only you to hear.

You turn your head, surprised—and he’s already looking at you, eyes dark and soft under the warm glow of the bar lights. You swear you feel it in your stomach, that little flutter you still haven’t quite gotten used to.

He leans in closer, voice a little rougher. “What? Don’t tell me you forgot.”

You arch a brow, teasing. “Forgot what?”

“That you strut your way right up to me. All wide-eyed and bold like I wasn’t five seconds from leaving.”

“Oh please,” you grin. “You loved it.”

His smile widens. “Still do.”

The music dips into something slower, something smoother. Around you, the bar hums with noise, glasses clinking, someone laughing too loudly near the bar. But in this moment it’s just you and him.

He tugs you gently, pulling you into his side until you’re almost in his lap. You go easily, leaning into him, resting a hand on his chest.

“So,” you say with a smile, tilting your head up, “is this the part where you tell me you’re no longer my pretend boyfriend?”

He pauses like he’s considering it, then leans in until his lips are barely a breath away from yours. “Mm... maybe.”

You lift a brow. “Maybe?”

He kisses you then, slow and sure, like there’s nothing pretend about it.

Like there never was.

His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he pulls away just slightly, lips still grazing yours.

“I’m not your pretend anything,” he whispers. “Haven’t been for a long time.”

You smile, cheeks warm, fingers curling into the front of his shirt.

“Well good,” you say, heart fluttering, “because I’m pretty sure my mom already considers you family.”

He laughs, the sound low and unguarded, and kisses you again—just because he can. And you kiss him back—because it’s him.

And because this time, there’s no act, no games.

Just the two of you—right where it all began.

2K notes · View notes

tbaluver · 3 months ago

Note

hiii! could you do hcs of lads men reacting to mc posting or sending them this but like with theur pictures?? hihiihi 🤭��

https://x.com/mahaegals/status/1888472565120733590?s=46

Sending Him A Cleavage Photocard Pic- The Love And DeepSpace Men

featuring ( in order ): xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus, caleb summary/context: if my title didn't make sense and you don't want to check the link ( im sorry im bad at titling .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·.) scroll all the way down for a reference! tags: suggestive a/n: hihi anonnie ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ hehe i remember seeing this trend all over twitter and i was def thinking abt this bc of my lads brainrot i hope i did it justice ! enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He didn’t even realize that there were pictures of him peeking through your cleavage. His eyes instantly went to your tits and admired how they sat so pretty and how it would look so good with him in between them

He won’t reply for a few minutes because he’s busy staring until he finally realized that you had his pictures in your cleavage

He can feel heat traveling to his body, and yes, it was down in his trousers, but he can’t help and feel a little jealousy boil in him because why are those pictures of him on you and not him.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎: there’s no need to put my pictures there

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎: On my way!

He’s using that speed of light to USE. The moment you look at his messages, you’d already hear your front door opening

Zayne:

He definitely should’ve seen it coming. With a sigh, he rubs his temples and eyes, shaking his head. A small smile tugs at his lips as his ears flush a deep red.

His cock twitches in his slacks when he stares longer at your breasts displayed so perfectly while his photos peek out of your clothes. He doesn’t even realize how many minutes pass by, completely hypnotized by the mounds of flesh.

☃︎: apologies.

☃︎:..i’m a little distracted.

You knew it was one of his weaknesses. You most likely sent that picture without context to tease him and it's definitely working.

☃︎: is this another way of you telling me you want another private check up?

☃︎: i’ll be home in an hour

☃︎: i believe you won't be needing those photos once i'm there.

Rafayel:

SWEET MOTHER OF PEARL

He would gasp SO loudly once he saw it. His mouth is wide open once he opens the messages to see your beautiful boobs cupped so nicely and so perfectly on his screen with his pictures popping out of your clothes.

It didn’t take that long for dirty images consuming his brain along with his dick rising in his pants

Responses from him include various compliments and keyboard smashes or both combined. He would get really impatient if you didn’t respond immediately because he needs to see and hear you right now

𓆟: oh my glubsddhkahf

𓆟: my girlfriend is so pretty (っ˘ڡ˘ς)

𓆟: so gorgousddsfjo

𓆟: cutiecutie

𓆟: answer the call pretty plss

Sylus:

A low chuckle escapes him as his lips curl into a smirk, savoring the image on his phone. Your pretty breasts are sitting nicely while pictures of him peek out of your bra, the one that he bought you. Tease.

Sylus will never get used to seeing your breathtaking figure on his screen. You always try to surprise him, and he can’t help but be amused but also find it adorable that you try too. two can play at that game.

But obviously he’s going to shower you with compliments first

𓅂: my my my

𓅂: to what do i owe this pleasure to sweetie?

You can expect him to send you a couple more pictures. One of him is in the shower, where water drips down his body, giving you a clear view of his upper body but not enough to provide you with everything you want. Another of him is in his tank top, where he works on his motorcycle.

𓅂: to add to your photo collection.

And another one where he copies you. He'll send a close up shot of his towel wrapped around his waist, a picture of you peeking out of it, giving you just enough for you to have a full view of his v-line and his abs

𓅂: such a shame only a picture of you can be here

Caleb:

COLONEL DOWN COLONEL DOWN

See this is why he opens your messages after he finishes flying. Mainly because he knows that any picture of you might have him distracted when he's up in the sky. Literally head in the clouds.

Do not ask him the colors of your shirt/ bra or anything else in that picture, NOTHING

He’s also the type to realize late that there were pictures of him on your cleavage. It would just be a blur to him and he just thought your shirt/ bra was shaped silly.

✈︎: only i get to see this rightt :o

A low groan slip out of his lips as he held his phone tightly, his eyes tracing the shape. His brain fumbles on what to do or say but his dick is already racing him to it

✈︎: so picture caleb gets lucky but what about me :(

✈︎: you're killing me pipsqueak >:(

His hands would be shaky the entire time he’s sending you messages. His dick was too hard to even think properly

✈︎: looks like im gonna take a quick detour :D

✈︎: gonna show picture caleb that's not where he belongs

Like a puppy going after a treat

context: sending him a picture like this but only his pictures

ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ thank yew to @divinedevotions for helping me sketch the reference pic so i can edit their photos on it .·°՞(¯□¯)՞°·.

ʚɞ thank you to my beta reader @ilovemitsuya (˵˘ ³˘˵) ᯓᡣ𐭩

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! Love And DeepSpace Masterlist, Pg. 2

1K notes · View notes

geminiwritten · 2 months ago

Text

photos ; tyler owens

fandom: twisters

pairing: tyler x reader

summary: you’re in a perpetually bad mood because you're in love with tyler and he's clueless, but what happens when you 'accidentally' send him some scandalous photos?

notes: two in one week?! that's crazy! but also i decided to write for someone other than bradley bradshaw (tg:m) because my love for him is all consuming... it still is, but i really hope y'all enjoy this little fic! it was so fun to write, and please, give me all the feedback!

warnings: swearing, very horny without being smut but STILL ONLY 18+ PLEASE, drinking, taking and sending of naughty pictures, use of tinder, text / message screenshots, italics, references to the movie 13 Going on 30, some pet names (e.g. babygirl, baby, darlin'), use of the word 'bimbo' but it is regretted, and this is actually pretty wordy but it kind of had to be?

word count: 7251

Lily flops into the lawn chair beside yours. Her dreadlocks are half up and she isn’t wearing the same clothes that you’d seen her in half an hour ago. She must have just showered.

She offers you the packet of gummy bears in her hand as she settles back into the chair. “So, who are we trying to set on fire?”

You turn to face her, dragging your eyes away from said person you’re metaphorically trying to set on fire. “Who do you think?”

She giggles, the packet in her hand rustling as you take a handful of gummy bears. “He’s so clueless.”

“He’s so stupid,” you mutter, before shoving the candy into your mouth.

Tyler Owens, famous Tornado Wrangler and your best friend since you transferred to his high school in sophomore year. You’re not sure why he took a liking to you when you showed up on your first day with untied laces and a torn backpack. You’d been running late and got your backpack caught on a particularly spikey tree branch as you bolted from your parents’ car toward the school’s front steps. You’ve always assumed he felt bad for you, so he offered you his friendship. But to this day, he maintains that wasn’t the case, despite not giving you any other explanation as to why he would have wanted to befriend the weird new kid.

“I wonder what it’s like to have everyone fall all over you all the time,” Lily says, her eyes watching Tyler with curiosity as opposed to your scorching attempt to telepathically light his hat on fire. Or maybe just the leg of his pants. Nothing too crazy, you don’t want him to get hurt. You just want him to stop talking to that gorgeous woman.

You blow a long, tired breath out through your nose. “I wonder what it’s like go after what you want.”

“Sweetheart, how many times do I have to tell you.” Boone appears from behind you, stepping in front of your lawn chair and blocking your view of Tyler. “I’m right here. If you want me, take me.”

You roll your eyes, a small smirk ghosting over your lips. “Oh, Boone. You see right through me. I want you. I need you. Take me right here in this chair.”

Lily giggles at your sarcasm while Boone blinks slowly, trying to process what he just heard. When a full-blown grin splits across your face and laughter bubbles from your lips, he sighs. “You’re such a tease, woman. Don’t play with my heart like that.”

Before you can respond, Tyler steps up beside Boone and claps a hand on his shoulder. “Boone, you sweet idiot, you can’t tell a siren not to sing.”

Your smile is quickly replaced by a scowl. “Siren?”

Tyler nods, turning the full force of his gorgeous grin on you. “Yeah. The beautiful kind with the sweet voices that lure sailors-”

“To their death.” You push to stand and cross your arms. “They’re also not beautiful, they’re half bird. And they eat the sailors. So, you know what? Sounds like they've got men figured out.”

You turn and stomp up the stairs to the second floor of the motel you’re currently staying at. You know you seem a little childish, but you can’t help it. How many years are you going to have to watch Tyler with those fucking buckle bunnies before you break? Granted, there aren’t so many actual buckle bunnies since he quit bull riding, but they’re all the same to you. Drop dead gorgeous women hanging on for a piece of the man you’ve been in love with since junior year.

After a hot shower and a couple of overpriced minibar drinks – three little bottles of various alcohols – you fall onto the motel bed. This place is nicer than most of the other establishments you've stayed at, and the deadbolts on the door are giving you a sense of security you rarely have. Half the time you end up in Tyler’s room because you don’t feel safe behind the flimsy doors of dodgy motels, but you’ve resisted the past few weeks.

You’re just about at your breaking point where Tyler Owens is concerned, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep up this best friend bullshit.

Your phone dings and draws your attention away from the Friday night movie playing on the small TV screen. You know who it is before you even see the notifications.

Your thumbs hover over your phone screen, poised to type but paralysed because you can’t decide what to say. Tyler is too nice and too fucking oblivious. You’re still too irritated to be nice back to him, so you sigh and smack your phone face down on the bedside table. You grab the remote and turn the volume of the TV down before curling on your side to watch the movie.

As the movie draws to an end and your heavy eyelids start to droop, a cold wave of realisation washes over you. The credits start to roll and you sit up straight, suddenly wide awake. Your eyes dart toward your phone, still sitting on the bedside table, and the bud of an idea begins to bloom at the forefront of your brain.

You tip your head and wonder aloud, “Is that a stupid idea?”

Mark Ruffalo was in love with his best friend – Jennifer Garner – but she didn’t see him that way until it was too late. Maybe you need to force Tyler’s hand? Make him see you that way. You’ve known each other since you were both awkward, hormonally challenged teenagers. You can’t really blame him for not seeing past your horrendous struggle with puberty.

You jump off the bed and strip out of your shirt and sweats, only briefly acknowledging the fact that the shirt actually belongs to Tyler. You open your duffel bag and dig right down to the bottom to retrieve the one set of nice lingerie that you own. You’re not sure you’ve ever actually worn it out, you’ve only ever used it for the exact thing that you’re about to do now.

After changing into the pretty lace set and double-checking the curtains are drawn, you grab your phone and stand in front of the full-length mirror fixed to the motel room’s wall. You’re no Victoria’s Secret model, but you do know how to pose to make yourself look fucking good.

You twist and move in front of the mirror, taking pictures and analysing them before taking some more. You move the lamp and switch the ceiling lights on and off for different shadows and effects on your body. You take off half the set and try the front facing camera for some more risqué poses and teasing photos. By the time you finally decide you should go to bed, you’re actually sweating.

You prop your phone face up on the small bathroom vanity as you brush your teeth and swipe through the photos. You giggle softly to yourself, wondering where you possibly picked up the audacity to think that sending Tyler some sexy photos was a good idea. Looking at them now, your stomach curls anxiously at the idea of sending these images to your best friend – you blame the minibar. Yeah, they’re fucking hot photos, but it’s also an incredibly risky thing to do. There’s a good chance he’s already thought of you in that way and just decided that he’s not interested. What if he saw the pictures and was actually disgusted? It would ruin your friendship and the whole crew's dynamic. You’d have to pack your shit and leave.

Your second thoughts and anxiety still don’t stop you from favouriting the best photos as you crawl back into bed. You can still use those pictures if you ever decide to get over Tyler by getting under someone else. You put your phone on charge and snuggle into a nest of pillows, letting your heavy eyelids fall shut. Maybe tomorrow night you can get drunk and flirt with someone hot and available, and then you can show them your sexy photos.

The next day starts like any other. Dexter and Dani use the motel’s communal barbecue to cook a greasy breakfast while Tyler gets coffees for everyone, and then it’s time to work. There isn’t a lot of promise in today’s blue sky, so you spend half the day at the motel before going for a five-minute drive to the nearest diner for lunch. You insist on riding in the RV instead of Tyler’s truck, but you regret it immediately after seeing his confused hurt-puppy face.

“So, where are we going out tonight?” Boone asks before popping a fry into his mouth.

Tyler shrugs, his green eyes darting up from his burger to look at you across the table. “Any bar around here that looks good.”

“There’s a decent place just around the corner from the motel,” Dexter says. “I’ve been there once before, I think. A year or two ago.”

“There’ll be a tonne of chasers there tonight,” Dani pipes up. “Truckloads of ‘em were pulling into the motel all day, and after such an uneventful Saturday, they’ll be wanting to blow off some steam.”

Tyler nods once. “Good. I need to blow off some steam too.”

You keep your head tipped downward so no one can see you roll your eyes. Yeah, you’re still a little mad at him even though he has no idea why. You know it’s stupid, but you can’t help it. Every time you see his ridiculously gorgeous face, your anger flares. Or is that just pent-up horniness? Maybe if you get laid, you might stop being so mad all the time.

Boone chuckles and nudges Tyler’s side. “Need a blow, do ya, T?”

Warmth flushes across your chest and creeps up your neck. Images of Tyler standing over you flash through your mind, his jeans down around his ankles and his thick length hitting the back of your throat.

Tyler chuckles, but it’s a little wooden. Strained. “You have no idea.”

“Gross,” Lily states, before pretending to gag.

Boone grins. “We’ll find you a lady tonight. Don’t worry.”

Dexter scoffs. “Like he needs help with the ladies.”

You swallow down the green-eyed monster trying to claw up your throat and finally look up from your plate of fries. “Is everyone done? Can we go back now?”

Although you avoid looking at him, Tyler is watching you curiously. His brows are pinched and his lips turned down ever-so-slightly. He knows you, and he definitely knows something is up. If you don’t fix your attitude soon, you’re going to have to explain a lot more than you’d like.

“I was actually going to go to the pharmacy in town,” Dexter says. “I need to pick up a few things.”

“Me too,” Dani adds.

Lily raises one hand in the air. “I’ll tag along too, if that’s okay.”

Tyler pulls his keys out of his back pocket and hands them to Boone. “Then Boone can drive the truck into town and I’ll take the RV.”

You frown. “And me?”

Tyler grins. That breath-taking, panty-melting type of grin. “With me. You said you wanted to go back.”

You roll your lips and nod slowly. Yep, you just played right into his hand.

The group stack their empty plates and gather their things before shuffling out of the diner. You’re the first out the door, dropping your sunglasses from the top of your head to your nose and gazing up at the blue sky. The buttery sun soothes your skin, and you suddenly realise that you can’t remember the last time you went to the beach. You might need to take a break from chasing soon. Who knows, maybe Tyler will kick you off the crew because of your childish attitude. Then you can go to the beach and enjoy sunny weather for once.

“Ready?” The man himself appears beside you, tossing the keys into the air before catching them again.

You don’t reply, you just nod and start walking toward the RV. The others call their goodbyes across the small, gravel parking lot, and you give them a lazy wave as you pull yourself up into the passenger’s seat of the RV’s cabin.

“You wanna drive?” Tyler asks, his southern drawl in full force as he stands in the open door of the driver’s side.

You’re already in the passenger seat, pulling your seatbelt across your body. “You know I hate driving this thing, Ty.”

He chuckles and hoists himself up before pulling the door shut and jamming the keys into the ignition. He takes a moment to adjust all the peripherals before turning the key and easing the big vehicle through the parking lot.

“So,” he says as he turns out of the lot and onto the road. “Want to talk about it?”

You keep your gaze fixed out the windscreen. “Talk about what?”

“Your mood.”

You keep your voice light as you reply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He rolls his eyes and presses harder on the gas, urging the RV to pick up speed toward your motel. The drive isn’t long, you just have to keep your attitude under control for four more minutes.

“Look,” he starts again, his hands gripping the wheel tight enough to turn his knuckles white. “I’m not going to pretend that I know what’s wrong. All I do know is that something is wrong and has been for a while. You know I like giving you your space. We’re all so on top of each other when we’re out on the road, it’s important to remember that we all need a break sometimes. But whenever you want to talk, I’m here. You know that. I’m always here.”

You can’t help it. Your lips move before you can even think about the words that they’re saying. “Except when you’ve got a better offer.”

His head snaps toward you. “What was that?”

Heat blooms in your cheeks and your heart races anxiously as you see the turn for the motel up ahead. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“Is this all because of me?” His head swivels as he tries to read your face while also watching the road. “Did I do something to upset you?”

“No,” you lie. “It’s not always about you.” Fuck. You’re on a roll today.

Thick silence fills the air of the cabin, and you can’t let yourself look at Tyler because you know you just hurt him. He’s not a bad guy. In fact, he’s one of the best guys you know. But he’s oblivious to the way you feel, has been for years, and you can’t help it if your frustration is manifesting in an ugly way.

The RV rocks as it climbs the driveway into the motel. He parks in the same spot as before and you practically fall out the door the second the vehicle is stopped. You don’t look back as you climb the stairs toward your motel room. You slam the door and flop onto the bed, too frustrated to cry and too full of self-pity to think about apologising to Tyler.

You spend the rest of the day in your room. At six o’clock you get a message from Lily asking if you’re still coming out with them, to which you reply with a thumbs up. You’re not mad at Lily, but she at least knows why you’re in a foul mood. However misdirected your anger might be.

You shower and change into that lacey lingerie set from the photos, deciding that tonight it’s going to get its debut outing. You slide into a pair of jeans and your nicest top before adding a touch of makeup to your face and walking out the door. When you’re on the road, you don’t really have a whole lot of nice clothes for going out, but you do feel a little pleased when you see your pretty reflection in the motel windows on your way along the balcony.

“Why don’t you wear those jeans more often?” Boone asks from the bottom of the stairs as you descend.

“Because then you’d be too distracted all the time.”

He grins and offers you his hand for the last few steps. “I’m always distracted by your beauty.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “God, Boone. You’re such a flirt.”

He chuckles and guides you to the bottom of the stairs before letting go of your hand and walking off toward where Dexter is packing up some of the equipment he’d been tinkering with this afternoon. Eventually, everyone meets in the parking lot and the group decide to walk, because the bar is only around the corner.

It’s already pretty busy by the time you get there, but you manage to find a tall bar table that seats all of you while Tyler goes off to get the first round of drinks. Your friends quickly dive into a discussion about what the next week could bring and where you plan to go from here, but your eyes are glued to Tyler.

He’s leaning forward against the bar, a huge grin split across his face as a very gorgeous bartender takes his order. She has a smirk on her lips that says she gets what she wants, and by the way she’s looking at Tyler, you don’t have to guess that he is what she wants tonight.

You pull your phone out of your pocket and scroll to the last page of apps you’ve ignored for almost a year now. Dating apps. You’re not a fan of them, but if anything, they’ve helped you get laid. You open one and enter your log in details before adjusting your location and starting to quickly swipe through a few profiles. You know it’s dumb, and you’re feeling more along the lines of pathetic than horny right now, but you need something to think about that isn’t Tyler fucking Owens.

“Turns out I’ve been here before,” Tyler says as he drops the tray of drinks onto the table. “The bartender said she remembers me.”

Of course she does.

Boone wags his eyebrows suggestively. “The hot bartender?”

Tyler chuckles, but he doesn’t turn to ogle at the bar like the rest of the group. “I guess she could be considered attractive.”

“You guess?” Dani slams her drink back down on the table. “Come on, T. Your standards can’t be that high.”

He shrugs one shoulder and takes a long draw from his beer. “What can I say?”

Before you have the chance to roll your eyes, your phone vibrates in your hand. You lean back and unlock the screen, angling it so that neither Lily nor Boone can see from either side of you. Two messages from a guy name Owen. Of course. It couldn’t be a Jack or a Sam. No, the universe just loves making fun of you too much.

Well, that was easy.

You slide your phone into your back pocket before picking up your drink and draining half of it. You can feel Tyler’s eyes on you, but you ignore him. You keep your gaze fixed on Dexter as he tells an animated story about the last time he was at this bar.

The next time you pull your phone out, you have a few more messages from Owen. He tells you that he’s working late at the local liquor store but can meet up later, which you happily agree to – it seems stupid to pretend that you’re in this for anything other than sex. He then asks for your number, because the store he works at has shitty reception, so you give it to him and wait for his first text to set him up as a new contact. Who knows, maybe the next time you’re in town you could hit him up.

The night wears on and you continue sinking drinks to keep yourself happily buzzed. There are more chasers here just as Dani had predicted, and your group ends up scattered throughout the bar catching up with old friends. You manage to avoid Tyler for most of the night, but it isn’t easy. He watches you like a hawk, analysing every little move you make and practically breathing down your neck every time you slide your phone out of your pocket.

You tap Lily on the shoulder. “I’m going to the bathroom and then getting another drink. You want?”

She shakes her head and waves a hand. “I’m good, thanks.”

You nod once and turn toward where you think the toilets might be. You pass Dexter, who is chatting with a group of chasers you don’t recognise, and then Dani and Boone, who are giving a dramatic retelling of the last close call you all had.

You find the bathrooms and slip inside. You lock yourself in the first stall, shimmy your jeans down, and sit. Then you pull your phone out to reply to Owen. He’s polite, not too creepy, and seems to have no issue being honest. He’s telling you that he’s excited to meet up, because it’s been a long week and he really needs to get laid. You find yourself smiling at your phone as you reply, telling him that you’re feeling the exact same way.

As you wash your hands and gaze at your reflection in the mirror, you start to realise that maybe you’re a little more buzzed than you thought. Not that it’s a problem, because a little liquid courage always helps you out when it comes to one-night-stands, but you might need to start watching what you say. Alcohol can be a very dangerous catalyst for honesty.

When you step out of the bathroom, it feels even more crowded than before. You almost have to shoulder your way to the bar. Once you find a spot, you lean your forearms against the wood and squint to see what draughts they have on tap.

The gorgeous bartender that served Tyler earlier steps toward you. “Hey hon, what can I get ya?”

You try to wear a polite smile as you tell her your drink, but you can’t help feeling that it just looks twisted. She nods and starts pouring. You fish into your jeans’ pockets for cash before dropping it on the bar as she hands you your fresh schooner. The first sip is crisp and delicious, but quickly ruined by what you see across the room.

Nestled in the corner by the front of the bar is Tyler and some blonde bombshell who looks like she just walked out of a rodeo-themed photoshoot for Victoria’s Secret. They’re leaning on one of the tall tables, practically toe to toe, and she’s licking her lips as she watches him tell whatever stupid story he’s telling.

You storm back over to Lily with a scowl, but she’s too invested in her conversation to notice your renewed foul mood. You sit up on the barstool and take another generous sip of beer, letting the bubbly drink cool you from the inside out. Tyler is a grown-ass man. He can do what he wants, make his own decisions, and fuck whatever he pleases. You need to get over it.

After a couple of deep breaths, you’re feeling more sad than angry. But that won’t do either. You need to feel something positive, even if it is only fleeting. So you pull your phone out, lean away from the group of people chatting with Lily, and pull up your photos. Yep, those photos.

Your heart thuds heavily in your chest, your pulse ringing in your ears. This shouldn’t be so nerve-wracking, but it’s been so long since you’ve done something like this. It’s been so long since the last time you tried to get over Tyler Owens.

You choose three of your favourite photos. One is in the mirror, simple and saucy, showcasing the full ensemble. The second one is of you kneeling in front of the mirror, closer than the last and angled so that every curve looks a little extra enticing. The third photo is with the front-facing camera, the phone angled down to get your body instead of your face. You’ve taken off the top part of the set and you’re barely covering your nipples with one arm.

You’re not a vain or particularly conceited person, but you know these photos are good.

You squint and focus on your phone as you select the three photos and tap the ‘share’ symbol in the corner of your dim screen. It’s a little fuzzy through your beer goggles, but you don’t want to turn the brightness up right now, so you persevere. The share options fill the bottom half of the screen, and you carefully tap on the text messages app logo. A ‘New Message’ pops up, the little cursor blinking on the ‘To:’ line. You type carefully, O-W-E-N, and pick the contact that pops up. Then you hit that little send button.

The next few seconds pass in slow motion.

You look up from your phone and your eyes find Tyler across the bar. He’s smiling at the blonde, but then something else summons his attention. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and lifts it up to his face. His grin vanishes and his cheeks flush bright red at the same time that your stomach plummets. It falls so fast and so hard, you’re almost sure it’s fallen right out of your ass.

Your eyes go wide, and you can feel your heart beating in your throat as it tries to crawl up. Or is that all the beer you’ve drank tonight? You feel sick. You need to get out of here. Fuck. You need to unsend that fucking text.

“Are you okay?” Lily’s voice is distant even though she’s right in front of you, a hand on your shoulder.

“I, uh-” You slip off the barstool. “Gotta go. Feel sick.”

One glance across the bar has your stomach doing another gymnastics routine, flipping and spinning wildly, trying to expel every drop of alcohol you’ve consumed in the past few hours. Tyler isn’t with the blonde anymore, he’s weaving his way through the throngs of people toward you.

Luckily, you’re closer to the door than he is. You squeeze through a group of chasers who you kind of recognise, but you don’t give yourself time to get a proper look. You duck out the door and start walking down the street. You don’t want to run, you’re not sure your wobbly legs can manage it right now, and you don’t want to draw attention.

The motel is just around the corner. If you get there in time, you can lock yourself in your room before Tyler catches you. Then you can pack your shit and run. Like really run. Because fuck, there is no coming back from this.

You hear your name called out behind you, but you easily recognise his voice, so you don’t turn around. You keep walking, your footsteps heavy and your breath coming and going in ragged gasps. You open your phone as you round the corner, bringing up your text thread with Tyler that makes your head spin. You sent him those photos. Fuck. He must think you’re insane.

Your eyes narrow on the contact name ‘Owens’ with a little tornado emoji beside it. The universe is definitely laughing at you right now. You hold down on the photo message and look for the ‘unsend’ button. But there isn’t one. There’s a ‘delete’ button, but you know that will only delete it from your side of the chat. He’s got these photos now. There’s no going back.

He calls your name again as you turn into the motel. It’s not far now, you might actually make it.

You book it across the parking lot and start up the stairs to the second-floor rooms. Your fingers fumble for the key in your pocket as you approach your door. Your pulse is hammering in your ears. You don’t dare to look back because you know he’s close. You can feel it.

The key slides into the lock and you practically fall into the room. You spin on your heel and try to slam the door shut. It gets most of the way until a booted foot slides across the threshold. The door stills, five inches of light from the outside slicing through the dark motel room. All you can hear is your heavy breathing and the panting from the man holding the door ajar.

You close your eyes and steel your nerves. Maybe it’s time you quit chasing.

You take a deep breath and open the door again. “Yes, Tyler?”

He looks downright feral. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are wild, his hair is mussed, and you’re pretty sure his hands are vibrating in fists by his sides.

“What”– his voice is so deep, it’s almost a growl –“the fuck was that?”

You tip your head, feigning innocent curiosity. “Was what?”

His eyes darken and he licks his lips. Like a predator sizing up its prey. “Don’t play dumb with me.”

“But I thought that was your favourite game.” You take a step back from the door. “Isn’t that why you’re always hanging out with those buckle bunny bimbos?”

You feel sick as the words leave your lips. You hate being a bitch and you hate that being frustrated and upset makes you one, but you can’t help it. If Tyler is going to have a go at you for accidentally sending him some photos, then you’re going to have a go back. Sure, your oldest and most important childhood friendship is about to blow up. But tit for tat is still important, right?

His eyes narrow and he pushes the door all the way open to step inside. “What are you talking about?”

You decide, for the first time tonight, to think before you speak. So you take your time. You turn and walk toward the bed before flopping down at the foot of it and bending over to unlace your boots.

“It was an accident.” You get one shoe off. “I didn’t mean to send those photos to you.” You get the other shoe off. “So, I’m sorry if your blonde friend saw them and freaked out. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

He pushes the door to swing shut behind his towering frame. “Ruin my night?”

You stand up, because he’s too intimidating right now for you to be sitting down.

“Wait.” His brows pinch and he glances at the floor before looking back at you with something fiery behind his eyes. “You accidentally sent them to me?”

You nod.

“Who the fuck were you trying to send them to?”

The venom in his voice startles you, and you rear back a little. “How is that any of your business?”

He steps closer. “It isn’t, but you’re going to tell me.”

You scoff. “Is that so?”

He takes a deep, rattly breath. You can see the muscles in his jaw ticking under the pressure of how hard he’s clenching. He’s so close that you can smell him. That intoxicating mix of fresh earth and cedarwood. He smells exactly like the dense air before a storm.

You startle again when he grips your chin, forcing you to stay still as he leans in even closer. “Babygirl,” he murmurs, warm breath fanning over your skin. “You cannot send me photos like that and then tell me they were meant for another man.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your eyes bouncing between his. They’re hardly green anymore, they’re black. His pupils are so blown, you can only just see a thin ring of colour around them.

“You think you’ve ruined my night?” he asks.

You try to nod, but his grip on your chin doesn’t let you.

“I’m gonna need you to use your words, darlin’.”

His southern drawl sends a shock of electricity right to your core. You can feel the ache building behind your hipbones, pulsing and growing and making you squeeze your thighs together.

“Yes.”

He chuckles, but it’s deep and dark and full of something other than amusement. “The only thing you’ve ruined is my fucking patience.”

You don’t know what to say. Your brain might as well be melting out of your ears as you stare at the hungry face of the man you’ve loved for God knows how long. All you can do is blink at him, wondering when you’ll wake up from this dream.

“Who were you trying to send them to?” he asks again.

“Owen,” you reply, voice barely above a whisper.

He raises his brows. “Who the fuck is Owen?”

“Tinder.”

He lets go of your chin and rises back to his full height. “You were on fucking Tinder?”

Without his face so close and his paralysing touch, you feel a little more in control of yourself. You let your anger simmer and soak through your body, reminding yourself why you took those photos in the first place.

“Why do you care if I’m on Tinder?” you snap. “And why the fuck do you care who I send those photos to?”

“I care because no man on this planet deserves to see those fucking photos,” he growls. “No one is good enough to see you like that.”

You cross your arms and scowl up at him. “That doesn’t even make any sense, Tyler. What the fuck do you want from me? Do you want me to join a nunnery?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but you’re not done.

“You can’t just blow up at me about a couple of stupid photos and because I’m on Tinder. Who gives a fuck? I’m an adult woman who can fuck whoever she wants, and you’re a grown-ass man who doesn’t get a fucking say in it! Why don’t you just go back to screwing every woman in Oklahoma and leave me and my personal life alone?”

You’ve never seen Tyler this angry. He looks like one of those huffing bulls he used to ride. His chest is heaving, his knuckles are white, and his expression is angrier than any storm cloud you’ve ever seen – which is saying something.

“Is that really what you think of me?” His voice is surprisingly calm compared to his demeanour.

You nod once, keeping your expression as flat as possible.

He cocks his head, his eyes challenging. “Really? After all the years we’ve known each other, you think that I’m just some man-whore who’s making his way through the state?”

You don’t reply. What the fuck are you supposed to say to that? Of course you don’t think of him as a man-whore, but you can’t exactly tell him what you do think of him. You’re not even sure why you’re fighting right now. Shouldn’t you just be embarrassed and apologising? Wasn’t the original plan to pack your shit and get out of here? You should be packing a bag and high tailing it out of this stupid little town.

“When did you take those photos?” he asks suddenly, looking past you.

You glance over your shoulder to follow his gaze, finding the incriminating mirror. You sigh. “Last night.”

“Who did you take them for last night?” His voice is strained, as if he doesn’t really want to ask the question but he has to know.

You look back at him, studying his furious expression and fiery eyes. You’ve never seen Tyler so worked up. He looks like he’s in the boxing ring waiting for another blow, waiting for you to punch him again so he can unleash another torrent of misplaced rage.

Maybe it’s time to surprise him. Hit him where he’s least expecting it.

“You.”

His scowl vanishes and his eyes grow wide. His mouth pops open, like he’s going to reply but there’s no connection between his brain and his voice box. He’s paralysed.

You gnaw on your bottom lip, watching him anxiously. His eyes are scanning your features, looking for something – maybe he’s hoping your joking? He opens his mouth a couple of times, but he still can’t find any words. You let out a soft sigh and decide that you’re already knee deep, you might as well dive in.

“It’s stupid, but yeah, I took them with the intention of sending them to you.” You let your eyes trace the collar of his flannel shirt, unable to meet his gaze. “Then I realised it was a dumb idea, and I didn’t. But then I was messaging this guy tonight and when I went to send them to Owen, I hit your contact name… Owensss.” You emphasise the ‘s’ and swirl your finger, as if mimicking a little tornado.

When you finally look back up at his face, he doesn’t look disgusted or offended. He looks confused.

“Why were you going to send them to me?”

You groan and drop back onto the bed, hiding your face in your hands. “Really, Ty? Do I have to fucking spell it out for you?”

You split your hands and peak up at him, but his expression hasn’t changed.

“Fine.” You huff and stand up again, ignoring the way it makes your head spin. “Tyler fucking Owens, I’m in love with you. I have been since junior year of high school when you asked me to prom instead of any of those other girls who were falling all over you. I’ve been in love with you through every stupid boyfriend I’ve had and every dumb life decision you’ve made, and I was so sick of seeing you with other women that I thought sending you some embarrassing fucking photos would make you change your mind. But I know now that if you felt any special way about me, you would’ve told me by now. So please, just let me pack my shit and get out of here.”

“Get out of here?” he echoes. “Baby, the only place you’re getting is in my fucking bed.”

Before you can even process his words, he swoops forward and crashes his lips against yours. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, steadying yourself as he kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before. Your head spins and your knees wobble, but his arms wrap around your waist to hold you up.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, giving and taking as he pleases and making you moan against his mouth. His stubble scratches your chin and your cheeks, and your mind immediately imagines it rasping against your inner thighs. You want to squeeze your legs together, but he shoves his thigh between then, bending his knee so that you’re practically riding his leg as his lips assault yours.

You can’t stop yourself from grinding down, desperate for any kind of friction to ease the ache between your legs. When your lips part in a whimper, Tyler’s tongue slips past them, and he tips your head back. His mouth devours every little moan and sigh as you continue to ride his thigh. His hands grip your hips, hard enough to bruise, and they guide you up and down. You can feel his belt buckle digging into your lower belly, and you can feel his hard length beside it.

“Ty,” you whisper, your lungs aching for air. “Please.”

“Please what, darlin’?”

You almost whine as he drags you slowly up his thigh. “Fuck me.”

He chuckles, his breath hitting your damp and puffy lips. He stops forcing you to move and relaxes his leg, setting you back on your own unsteady feet. “You want me to fuck you?”

You nod, suddenly feeling shy with him looking at you so intensely after that.

“Okay, but I’ve got a few ground rules.”

Your chest deflates as you let out a long breath. Here it goes. He’s going to tell you that this is a one-time thing, that it can’t be weird in the morning, and that you can’t tell anyone else about it. You feel a little stupid for believing that he would kiss you for any other reason than the fact that he’s horny. You ruined his shot with that blonde bombshell and then sent him those photos, of course he’s horny. It doesn’t matter that you just laid yourself fucking bare. He probably wasn’t even listening to all that. You told him you’re in love with him and he told you to get into his bed. He either didn’t hear you or doesn’t give a shit.

“Hey.” He grips your chin again and forces you to look up at him, at those smouldering eyes. “Whatever you’re thinking, stop it.”

You blink twice, unsure what to say.

“Rule number one-”

“Ty-”

He kisses you again, but it’s only quick. “No, let me finish. You had that whole speech before, so it’s my turn.”

You can’t nod because he’s still holding your chin, so you roll lips and wait.

“Good.” He lets go of your chin and puts a hand on each of your shoulders. “Rule number one is that no other person can ever see those fucking photos, you got it?”

You nod, and then he pushes you gently so that you’re sitting on the bed.

“Rule number two, you’re going to send me every single one of those photos that you took.”

Your brows pinch together, and he wedges a leg between your knees to push them apart.

“Rule number three, you’re mine now. Only mine.” He steps in between your legs and cups your head in both hands. “No more Tinder, no more bullshit. I’m the only one that gets to look at you and touch you, and I’m sure and shit the only one who gets to love you. You got that?”

Your mouth parts and he runs his thumb over your swollen bottom lip. “You love me?”

He grins. That breath-taking, panty-melting type of grin. “Since the first day you ran into class late. Your hair was all windswept and your cheeks were all red. You looked like you’d just fallen from fucking heaven.”

You can’t help the very unladylike snort of laughter that comes out of you. “Tyler, that is the lamest thing you’ve ever said.”

“But it worked. You’re smiling for the first time in who knows how long.”

He leans down and presses his lips against yours again, but this time it’s gentle. He urges forward and you slowly pull yourself further up the bed, being careful not to let your lips leave his. He crawls on top of you, placing a knee on either side of your thighs where you now lay beneath him.

“I think I’m going to have a hard time not smiling now,” you murmur against his mouth.

He pulls back and hits you with the full force of that gorgeous smirk as he holds himself over you on all fours. “You’re gonna have a hard time not screaming my name in a minute.”

You mirror him with your own cocky grin and press your palm against his hard length, restrained in his jeans. “You sure about that.”

He eyelids flutter shut and his lips pop open, a soft sigh escaping them. When he looks back down at you with dark, hungry eyes, you can feel your own arousal soaking through your panties.

“Oh, I’m sure.”

END.

#tyler owens #glen powell #twisters #tyler owens x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #oneshot #imagine #glen powell x reader #twisters movie

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airybcby · 7 months ago

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If I Could Never Give You Peace

( bllk boys when your secret relationship is leaked by paparazzi)

a/n — wrote this on a whim after listening to peace by taylor swift

content — some nsfw but not explicit, fem! reader, cursing , all characters are 18 or 18+, slight ooc maybe?, some characters are repeated

synopsis — what happens when your relationship is leaked?

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' i'd give you my sunshine, give you my best ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' everyone thought you'd broken up '

listen, you knew dating a good soccer player in high school was a big deal, but you didn't realize how big of a deal it really was when he went pro.

this was the same boy ( now man) that you'd been dating since you were 14, so nothing really changed your views on him. if you could love him through his awkward phase, and he could love you through yours, there was no way you'd break up.

again, you didn't realize that your relationship was such a big deal. it wasn't that the two of you were a secret, it was more of a 'private not secret' situation.

so when the two of you woke up in your shared bed because of just how many notifications the both of you were getting, you knew something was up.

and low and behold, something was wrong. when you opened any social media the first thing you saw was a strangely amazing photo of you and your long-term boyfriend kissing. really, if it wasn't a paparazzi photo, it would be your lock screen.

"aren't we just the cutest?" he asked you, phone thrown back onto his bedside table as if he didn't have a care in the world. (and he really didn't, not in this case)

truly, the only thing that may make him angry in this whole situation is the fact that he got woken up far earlier than his usual routine by all the commotion.

but of course, as he was dozing back off, you were reading the comments, as any loyal significant other would.

soccerluvr45: omg is that is gf from high school? i thought they broke up

okay, yeah. he had a rather public instagram account in high school that his rabid fans had found that had pictures of the two of you, but you'd never broken up?

reading through the many comments, it was like everyone had collectively decided the two of you'd broken up.

"mhm...just ignore it. the pr lady will deal with it." he mumbled as he grabbed your phone from your hands, laying it beside his before wrapping his arms around you.

"go to bed, 's too early to deal with all this."

his fans were silly, if they could see you with this bed-head man right now, they'd see there was no way the two of you would ever break up.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, yo hiori, NIJIRO NANASE, hyoma chigiri

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' pr nightmare '

anyone who knew your boyfriend knew he was...a little extreme.

and unfortunately for you, this also applied when your relationship became public because of a slight slip of focus from the two of you. it wasn't that you were trying to keep your relationship a secret, you'd already been together a year now, but you also weren't trying to out yourselves.

yet, one singular minute when the two of you slipped away to the bathroom together at a soccer banquet...well lets just say a paparazzi was scarily ready to snap someone, anyone's, photo.

so here you were, sitting in a terrifyingly big office with your boyfriend and almost his entire management team.

"do you know what this could do to your reputation?" his manager asked. "it's just two adults doing adult things, they should've been in that bathroom! that would've gotten them—"

"okay, sir..."the pr woman cut him off, ever too enthusiastic to be talking about your private lives.

"you just need to ignore all of this until it goes away, alright? no press interviews after games anymore," she sighed as if this was basic comprehension. (your boyfriend wasn't the smartest but he also didn't need to be treated like an idiot.) "and no posting on any social medias for the time being. do you understand?"

"yeah, yeah. no talking to the grown men after games. and..."he grimaced at the thought of his next condition. " c'mon is posting on my socials that bad? i don't post about us anyways."

"at. all." and the room felt as icy as the pr woman's stare.

"yeah, no, okay i got it. no social media."

after another thirty minutes of this, with them saying basically the same stuff to you (even though you had no real social media presence anyways), you guys finally left.

"no fucking posting? what if i have to talk about a game coming up?" "i'm sure she knows how to do her job, love." you soothed your boyfriend as you got in the car the company arranged to have you two taken up with.

"yeah, well whatever. give me your hand," and who were you to say no to your boyfriend?

he took your hand and placed it on his neck, a place where you could see a few bites and hickeys if you really looked hard enough.

before you could protest he took a picture, posting it on his VERY public account with the caption...

' i love my woman ;) '

before turning off his phone completely.

"let's see them try to get ahold of me now."

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ RYUSEI SHIDO, tabito karasu, EITA OTOYA, oliver aiku

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' what picture ? '

how do two chronically offline people realize their relationship is now under scrutiny by the entire world?

the simple answer is...they don't!

you've never been interested in social media the way other girls your age had been. really, you'd rather just watch a video essay on every little topic that interests you than sit and watch six second videos then scroll all day.

to say the least, fast and forever changing social media just wasn't your thing.

and your boyfriend? he hardly even used his phone. unless it was for business or you, the thing was practically shoved away somewhere he couldn't care less about.

he would rather be reading or spending time with you out on a date...which is exactly the predicament the paparazzi put you in earlier this week.

the two of you were photographed having a little picnic and reading date at a small park that was pretty far out of town, assuming no one there knew, or even cared, enough to take a picture, but alas, someone did.

you and he had spent the rest of your week in pure, relaxed bliss. he had a game on saturday, so besides him going to practice and working out, the two of you stayed inside almost all week to prepare for the rather hectic weekend.

to say the game was a nail biter would be the understatement of the century. after two additional times, it was your boyfriend who scored the winning goal.

of course, you cheered the loudest, not noticing plenty of fans eyes on you unlike how many used to just chalk you up as an ecstatic fan.

as the post game interview came for him, you decided to stay closer to the door just incase it ran short. sometimes it was a one and done for him and others the questions went on for at least fifteen minutes, it just depended on his mood.

of course, the first question was about his game winning goal, but the second one threw him and you for a loop.

" what do you have to say about the photos of you and your reported girlfriend that have come out this past week? "

"...huh? what photos?"

eventually, the two of you did see the pictures, and all you could do was laugh because...how had you two not found out about this?

and you also made the picture your phone lock screen, but he didn't have to know that.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ RIN ITOSHI, reo mikage, SAE ITOSHI, chigiri hyoma

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' but the rain is always gonna come if you're standing with me ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

[ + your faves ! ]

i wrote this in about an hour, and i think it shows but i had to get it out of my brain :))

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

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numinousher · 13 days ago

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OO2. privacy is overrated

pairing: stalker!jungkook x stalker!reader

summary: OF creator, jungkook, loves showing off his assets to his supporters who pay to see his exclusive videos and photos—faceless. but fans wonder why he never has a girl on his videos and why he never interacts with any other girl. they don’t need to know, though, he’s been obsessed with the pretty girl who live streams on her own OF account and who he recognizes as his enemy’s ex-girlfriend. she doesn’t need to know he’s the one who tips her the most with the money he earns from his own OF account, and who loves watching her from a distance. as for him? he doesn’t need to know she stalks him, too.

warning for this chapter: small dirty comments

Jungkook recognized that cute little name. Just like how he knew who she was.

He smirked to himself as he got ready for bed, his computer connected to his TV and all set for his activities around this time.

He saw the live start already and you were conversing, too, because although you were a sex worker, you loved having random chats with your followers who loved watching you talk. Hell, half of the men and women still paid you because the majority only wanted company and you provided them that.

“Hi,” you softly greeted with that voice of yours that sent shivers up his spine.

His fingers clutched the bed sheets as he eyed your hands. Such pretty hands adorned with jewelry and small tattoos that screamed ‘you’.

You were fiddling with your tank top, teasing your viewers with your breasts that they all desperately wanted to see and wanted to taste. He, on the other hand, couldn’t help but keep his eyes on your new nails.

He felt satisfaction at seeing them since he had gifted you the money two days ago with a message that said: For your nails. He could already imagine your face (you were faceless, too) at seeing the amount of money he sent you. But he just wanted your nails so pretty and you were complaining that you needed to get them done. Only the best for you.

“I just finished eating,” you continued, soft music playing in the background. “Did you guys like the video I posted?”

Of course he loved it.

You were playing with your pretty pussy he loved so much. Your fingers were going in and out of it, filling your room with lewd noises he drooled over. He loved that video so much.

His fingers immediately moved across his computer to give you money. He sent you $200 with a message for today: your nails look pretty angel.

You smiled.

“My nails look pretty because of you,” you said, showing off your nails better on screen. “You like?”

‘Love’ he typed.

“You spoil me so much, maybe I’ll allow you to choose what I should do next live, hmm?” You hummed, leaning back a little to show off a small peak of skin from your tank top that rode up by your stomach. “You’d like that?”

Fuck, he’ll love that.

‘Maybe you riding that pink dildo? you haven’t ridden it in a while’ he typed.

He saw the way your chest slowly moved with the breaths you let out and the soft murmurs of your voice as you read his message.

“You just want to see me bouncing on the dildo while you imagine it’s you,” you giggled, getting close to the camera a bit. He recognized the necklaces on your neck. After all, you never took them off in high school. “But, I think it’s a great idea. I’ll do that next live and moan out whatever title you want: your name, sir, or daddy. Maybe a pet name you’ll like.”

‘For little ol me?’ He typed.

“You’re always sending me so much and spoiling me,” you said. “It’s my turn to give you a little something. You’d want that choice by the way?”

‘Yeah baby, next time moan out the name daddy while you take that dildo so well and imagine it’s my cock’ he typed.

Shit… was that too much?

He facepalmed. He came off too strong.

“Daddy, huh?” He heard the amusement in your voice. He could always recognize that tone and so many others. You were an open book to him. “Then expect it next time.”

As you chatted, he saw other men and women giving you more money than he did. Seeing it as a challenge, he sent you another $500, then another $600, and another $700.

You could only watch in awe. You really had to find out or do more for this man who watched you because the amount of money he sent you was admirable yet insane. And you were just talking this time. He went crazy when you did your nsfw lives.

“I have to go,” you softly said as the livestream came to its end. Your fingers waved at the screen.“Expect me tomorrow. And please come prepared. We’re gonna have a lot of fun together, hmm?”

Everyone almost agreed.

You giggled.

“Bye,” you waved.

‘See you tomorrow baby’ Jungkook typed before he logged off, his mind filled with thoughts of you.

And he wondered if you still did your eyebrows just like the last time he saw you. It’s been almost 7 years, he remembered, because he could still feel your touch.

Of course he knew you. Finding you wasn’t that hard when you revealed yourself by accidentally following him on your main account angelover. He was lucky enough to have accidentally swiped on your name on his notifications and he was left looking at your content like a lovestruck fool.

He recognized those hands. That’s what he recognized the most.

Because when you were in college, you grabbed his arm. You touched him and looked at him with eyes he swore could beg him to do anything. If you say jump, he’ll say how high. If you told him to get on the fucking ground and worship you, he’ll ask you which part of your body you want him to start on.

Jungkook stalked your account. Every follower and following. He saw that a burner account by the name user8023894 followed you and, surprisingly, him. He had smirked to himself at finding that account and knowing it was you, and he watched with satisfaction as that account appeared on his notifications.

Used8023894 commented: such a pretty cock, wish it could split me in half <3

Don’t tempt me baby, he thought to himself because he does not have a coding friend for no reason that could easily find your location.

“C’mon Namjoon please,” Jungkook whined the next morning after your livestream. “Just this once. Please. I’m not going to do anything wrong. She knows me.”

“Then why doesn’t she let you know where she lives?” Namjoon asked as he eyed the burner account on his computer.

“Because she doesn’t know she knows me,” Jungkook groaned, plopping back on the chair. “Please, man. I helped you with that one girl. I was literally your wingman. Come on. Help me find her. I need to show her how much I miss her.”

“Dirty whore,” Namjoon retorted with malice behind his words. “Fine! I’ll give you the address tomorrow. But I swear to God, you better not do anything illegal that will put me in jail.”

“Promise. You’re doing me a huge favor.”

#divider by cafekitsune #🫧 back to me #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook smut #jungkook bts #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #bts series #bts smut #jeon jeongkook #kpop series

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navybrat817 · 7 days ago

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Hold You Tight: Part 26

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 25 | Series Masterlist | Part 27

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.1k

Chapter Summary: You get a little closer to Bucky, and you get in touch with your mom.

Chapter Warnings: Sexual undertones, bonding of sorts, inner turmoil, world building, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight, and thank you for sticking with me! Over a year since we began this wild journey! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Sometime after the popcorn and candy fight with Bucky you began to doze off in his arms. You hadn’t meant to, but you felt so comfortable and at ease. It was the first time that day you felt like you could breathe. That frightened you a bit since he wasn’t meant to be the hero in your story.

Or was he rewriting the story?

“I should get some sleep,” you whispered.

His stubble brushed your temple. “You seem pretty comfortable,” he said, not releasing you, but not holding you tighter either. “I don’t mind falling asleep like this if you don’t mind.”

“I should brush my teeth. Maybe shower and change,” you said. It was too late for a bath and you didn’t want to risk falling asleep in the tub, though you had a feeling he’d never allow that to happen.

He sighed, but didn’t argue as he helped you up. He didn’t look angry, which was a good sign. Disappointed maybe. “Do you mind if I join you?”

You stared at him, your mouth agape. Was he really asking to join you in the shower? Could you stop him?

He chuckled at your expression. “I should’ve been more specific. I know you don’t want me in the shower with you tonight, but I’d like to be in the bathroom so I’m close to you if that’s okay,” he said. He just wanted to be close to you? “I won’t look or try anything.”

Maybe what happened to you was raw for him, too, and he wanted you in his sights so he could relax. “Okay,” you said after a beat. You were going to trust that he wouldn’t do something so soon after Clark. “But I’m yelling for Curtis if you do try anything.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You’d yell for one of my men because of me?”

“Well, he is my bodyguard,” you replied, smiling when his mouth fell open.

“You really do have claws,” he said proudly, pulling you away from the messy living room. “Something wrong?” he asked when you whipped your head around.

“Did I bring my phone out here with me or did I leave it in the library?” you asked. You hadn’t paid much attention to that since you had been so upset before Bucky brought you to the living room.

“Don’t worry about your phone. Tonight’s about you relaxing,” he said. You were about to argue, but he was right.

Your heart picked up when he led you to the guest bathroom. It was smaller than the master bathroom, which meant he’d be somewhat close to you. It was vulnerable for you too, since you’d be naked and he’d be put together like always. That was one of the differences between you two. He had you vulnerable from the start while you had to work to peel back the many layers of him.

“I had some things brought from the apartment while you spent time in the library,” he said, testing the water for you after turning it on. “Your bridesmaid’s dress, the photo of you and your friends, the dress and diamond necklace I got you, and some other things.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, knowing you wouldn’t have the energy to go through anything tonight. You wondered what was left behind.

“Natasha also reached out to check on you. I told her you plan to talk to her about those self defense lessons.” His eyes lingered on you until he moved a few feet away and turned his back to you. “I think you’ve made quite an impression on her.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you said, undressing as quickly as you could and keeping an eye on him. The tension in his body told you he wanted to look, but he stayed still while you stepped under the water and shut the door. The water felt nice and you couldn’t help but sigh. You also didn’t feel as tense as you expected with him being so close.

Was that progress?

You still half expected him to strip down and join you since you hadn’t forgotten about the things he said he wanted to do to you. How he’d fuck you in the tub, make you ride his face before he fucked you, how he’d make you take his cock. Would he turn you into his perfect plaything when the time was right?

“It’s because you’re genuine and goodhearted, which she appreciates,” he said over the sound of the water, making you push those thoughts away. “My mother appreciated it, too, and so do I.”

You turned toward the sound of his voice and saw his hand pressed against the frosted glass. Could he see you? You pressed your hand against his, the pain bringing out the need to comfort him. Funny how instead of you putting a mental or emotional wall up, there was a physical door between the two of you this time. All you had to do was open it.

“I’d like to do something for your mom,” you said.

“What is it?” he asked curiously. “You already have Zemo making a donation.”

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” you said, quickly washing yourself so you could sit with him. “Is there a towel or a robe?”

“I hung it up for you. I’ll be right outside,” he said, surprising you all over again when he pushed off the shower door and left the bathroom.

“He really is trying,” you whispered.

You dried yourself off, brushed your teeth, and wrapped yourself in the plush robe before you opened the door. Bucky paced back and forth in front of the bed, a haunted look in his eyes. It was a heartbreaking sight. Did he hear you open the door?

“Bucky?” you asked, his gaze softer when he looked at you. Your presence truly rid him of his demons. “Are you okay?” “Just thinking about you and my mom,” he said, taking a seat with a heavy sigh. “Everything in my head is so loud.”

“The anniversary of her death is coming up, isn’t it?” Between that and your attack, you couldn’t imagine the range of thoughts and emotions he felt.

“Yeah, it is.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “I don’t go to the club that day. I don’t really talk to anyone either. Not even Steve.”

You took a seat and leaned into him, hearing him exhale before he wrapped an arm around you. You were still tired, but you wanted to finish this talk before you went to sleep. Like you needed space earlier, you sensed that he needed this. “I can’t imagine how hard that is.”

“It’s one of the hardest days, and it hasn’t gotten much easier with time,” he admitted.

Time didn’t heal all wounds. “It isn’t much, but the thing I wanted to offer? I’d like to make a floral arrangement for her headstone.”

He faced you and you shivered. There was so much love in his eyes, enough to snuff out every other emotion. How was it all directed at you? “You would?” he whispered.

“I would,” you answered. She was a good woman caught up in a cruel world, and you wanted to make something beautiful to honor her. “And you won’t have to be alone,” you added, unless he wanted to be. Grief hit everyone in different ways and you understood if he didn't want to be around you that day.

“Thank you. That would mean a lot to me.” Bucky swallowed and gave you a soft smile. “The arrangement and you being with me.”

He looked into your eyes before they dropped to your lips. Another moment where he wanted to kiss you and held himself back. It had been too raw to kiss him in the living room earlier and it was still too raw now, but you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. His grip on you tightened and you stayed still, not daring to pull away.

“I want you. Fuck, I want all of you. I need you,” he breathed, tucking your head into his neck. With your lips against his pulse, you could feel his heart was pounding. “But I won’t take you tonight.”

“I know you won’t,” you said. He wouldn’t push. Maybe he would tomorrow, but not tonight.

He moved you so you were both lying on the bed. “I’m such a bastard. I should be comforting you instead of talking about my pain and wanting you.”

“You’re allowed to talk about your thoughts and feelings, you know,” you said, trying not to yawn. “And you gave me space today and the movie night, which I needed, so thank you.”

“So, you’re telling me I was a good boyfriend today?” he asked, running a hand along your back, touching you without crossing a line.

“Uh-huh.” You did yawn this time. “You were a good boyfriend today, Bucky.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling. “Prepping to be the best husband to you one day.”

“One day,” you whispered, too tired to disagree.

As Bucky held you tighter, you wondered if you should’ve argued and not filled him with hope. But you knew deep down you’d have his ring on your finger and you’d have his last name in time. You would be Mrs. Barnes, his wife, his queen, his Kotyonok, his everything. It was inevitable.

Perhaps it was fate.

Bucky wasn’t in bed when you woke up the next morning. You touched the spot where he laid and found it cold. He was giving you that space once again. Once he had you in the master bedroom, things would surely be different. Chances were he’d wake you with his mouth or cock. You weren’t naive. He’d be insatiable once that dam broke.

“Where’s my phone?” you muttered, searching the nightstand. Bucky had said to relax for the rest of the night, but you wanted to reach out to Addison and the girls.

You checked the library first once you left the guest room and found it right where you left it. Nothing in the room had been touched. Bucky kept another promise.

It wasn’t until you left the library that you noticed the messages and missed calls from your mom, making your stomach sink.

“It’s Mom. Answer your phone.”

“If you won’t call me back, call Dad.”

“Why are you ignoring your parents?”

“I need you to call us.”

Your parents didn’t reach out just because. They never did. Judging from the insistence of the messages, something was wrong. It had to be.

You tried not to think the worst as you called your mom. Was she okay? What was going on?

“You called back,” your mom answered, sounding more irritated than usual. “Finally.”

You sighed, walking toward the kitchen when you smelled coffee. She didn’t bother saying hi. “I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. I’ve been having a bit of a rough time and needed some rest,” you said, refusing to feel guilty.

“A rough time? What could possibly be so rough for you?”

You grit your teeth. So much has happened to you, and of course she didn’t ask what happened or voice any concern. It would’ve been nice if she had, but you were just a florist in her eyes. A disappointment.

Bucky was already dressed for the day when you got to the kitchen. He looked handsome as ever in black. It really was his color. But instead of smiling, he frowned when he spotted you on the phone. “Who are you talking to?”

“My mom,” you mouthed, his frown deepening.

“Put her on speaker,” he said, setting a mug on the island for you. “Please.”

“Are you still there?” your mom asked since you didn't answer her question.

You put her on speaker. “I’m still here, and it doesn't matter,” you said, as much as you wanted to tell her. Shouldn’t a mother’s duty be to protect and care for their child? “Is everything okay? Is Dad okay?”

“We’re fine,” she replied, making you sigh in relief. “But we’re in the city and we’re in a bit of a bind.”

“You’re in the city?” you asked. Bucky raised an eyebrow. When did they get there and why didn’t they tell you?

“Yes. We wanted to see the sights,” she said. Bucky’s jaw clenched when your face fell. They wanted to see the city, but not you? “But we need your help.”

“You need my help?” You shrugged at Bucky who came over and wrapped an arm around your waist. “With what?”

“Well. Our cards were declined last night while we were out. We had to use most of the cash we brought to cover our dinner.” She huffed, a sign that she was embarrassed. The cards declining was a shock. They were careful with their finances. “We thought you might be able to spare a little cash until we can figure out what’s going on.”

“You called me because you need money?” You glanced at Bucky who had a smug smile on his face. Sipping his coffee couldn’t hide it. What did he do?

“You sound surprised,” your mom said.

“I am. With the amount of missed calls and messages, I thought…” You didn't say it wasn't an emergency. Not that declined cards weren't a bad thing, but the way she blew up your phone, you thought something really bad happened.

“You thought the worst? I guess I can understand why, but this is an emergency. And I know a florist salary isn’t much, but surely you can spare a little for your parents,” she said, your cheeks hot. You felt so small, and you bit your lip so you wouldn’t cry. Bucky’s fingers dug in, not liking that she insulted your profession.

“I…” You laughed a little, a small, sad sound. Your mom was calling because she needed money and not because she wanted to see you. It was the cherry on top of a bitter cake. At least no one was hurt or worse.

“We’d be happy to discuss it with you,” Bucky said, sounding friendly enough, but you knew better. “Wouldn't want you to worry about money for the rest of your trip.”

“We? Who is that?” your mom questioned. “Who are you?”

“I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky. I’m also your daughter’s boyfriend.”

He tilted your head toward him so you met his gaze. He looked and sounded so proud, like it was an honor to be yours. Why couldn’t your parents have even an ounce of pride for you?

“Boyfriend? I… I didn’t realize she was seeing anyone.”

“Maybe that’s because you don’t check in on your wonderful daughter and only reach out when you need something,” he said casually, your eyes widening when your mom sputtered on the other end of the phone. “I mean, you came to the city to see the sights, but not her?”

You gripped the mug, letting the heat seep into your skin before you let it go. He was voicing what you thought. It meant something that he was defending you.

“Well, of course we were going to reach out and see our daughter,” she argued, sounding like she swallowed a piece of glass. Bucky’s dig at her upset her. “My girl, we were going to surprise you before this hiccup.”

You wished you could believe that she wanted to see you.

“I’m sure you were,” Bucky said without a hint of warmth. “But if you need money to get through the rest of your trip, we may be able to spare a little.”

He gave you a nod, encouraging you to say something. “Yeah, I’m sure we can,” you said. He had put money in your account and you could give your parents a bit if necessary.

“Thank you,” your mom sighed.

“Why don't we meet you at The Chateau at 1 o’clock?” Bucky offered. A nice restaurant. They would love that. “It’ll give me a chance to meet my future in-laws face-to-face and I can treat you to lunch.”

He smirked at your expression. Future in-laws? The moment your parents discovered he was made of money they’d be on his side. They wouldn’t be in your corner. But were they ever?

“Y-Yes.” Your mom cleared her throat. “Lunch would be nice.”

“Looking forward to it. And don't be late. My girl’s time is precious and I don't want to waste it.” Bucky hung up before your mom or you could get another word in. “How did you sleep?’

“I… How did I sleep?” you asked, confused by the subject change.

“Yeah. You were so tired you fell asleep in your robe. You're still wearing it,” he said, running a finger along the collar as you tightened it around you.

“I slept fine, but I should get ready for the day. I'm a mess,” you said without thinking. You hadn't gone through your morning routine, immediately searching for your phone before you found him.

He held your chin, his eyes darkening for a split second. “You're not, but one day I will make a mess of you before and after you wake up.”

The breath rushed out of your lungs. There was the Bucky you knew. “Bucky, my parents are very meticulous with their spending,” you said, changing the subject yourself so you didn't focus on his desires. “Did you have something to do with their cards not working?”

Bucky had the power to do that, but what would he have to gain from that?

“I may have made a call or two.” He shrugged when you took a step back. He really did that? Why? “You were still in pain yesterday and I wanted to inflict a little pain on someone else who hurt you. Why not start with your parents?”

The gleam in his eyes didn't frighten you nor did his smile. He really thought he was helping you in some sort of way. “But why would you do that? Because they weren't overly loving to me?”

“That's exactly why,” he said, stepping forward so you were close to him once again. “Outside of me, those are the people who should love and protect you. And when have they been there for you? When have they supported you?” He shook his head in disgust. “They said your life was a waste.”

Your fingers curled. They did say that. All because you decided to do something you loved. “Then why do you want to see them?” you asked. Why would he offer to take them to lunch?

“Maybe I want to tell them what I think of them,” he said, touching your cheek. “Maybe I want to tell them you have a real family here who loves you and are willing to fight for and die for you.”

You didn't pull away when his other hand went to the back of your neck. Wasn't that what you wanted? Your friends were your sisters, but his men were willing to do that because of him, not you. “Did you really freeze their accounts?”

He chuckled and kissed your forehead. How many times has he kissed your forehead since you met? “I’m not heartless. I left them with something because they're your parents and you have a good heart, but I'm guessing they didn't bother trying that card.”

“You really did that?” you asked, still in disbelief.

“I did, and I’d do it again. They may not have put a hand on you, but they hurt you and I won't stand for that.” He moved his mouth to your ear. “Say the word and I’ll make sure they have nothing, Kotyonok.”

You shivered, your eyes shutting. He was willing to destroy your parents for wronging you. It was crazy, but it was his version of love.

And why were you leaning into him? Why were your hands suddenly holding his arms? Was he tightening the chain on you more?

“I’d do anything for you,” he said against the shell of your ear.

The sound of heavy footsteps had you moving away from him, but he stood in the same spot with a knowing smirk. He felt that you had leaned into him, silently looked to him for support. You had to stay in control.

“I think I got the right ingredients,” Curtis said, setting a couple of bags on the counter. “I hope so.”

“Ingredients for what?”

He raised an eyebrow at you and began to unpack the bags. “For the brownies.”

You turned your gaze to Bucky who merely smiled. “Did you send my bodyguard out to get ingredients for the brownies I plan to make for him? That’s ridiculous.”

“He didn't just get stuff for brownies. I had him get a few other things, too,” Bucky said, smiling more when you glared. “I love seeing your eyes light up with fire.”

“Curtis isn't your… errand boy! I could've gone shopping by myself or given you the list.” You threw your arms up when Bucky chortled. “Do not laugh at me.”

“I’m laughing at ‘errand boy’, not at you,” he said.

You pointed to the doorway. “Get out, please. Curtis can stay, but you need to leave my kitchen.”

It was your kitchen now, and baking would help you decompress before seeing your parents.

“You're kicking me out?” Bucky’s expression was a mixture of impressed and offended. “You want him to stay here while you’re in your robe?”

“Yes,” you said, crossing your arms. The robe covered everything.

“Don't you need to get ready for lunch?” Bucky pressed.

“I can do that after I bake brownies,” you said. There was plenty of time.

“Will you wear the diamond necklace I got you?” he asked, staring at your neck. “It looks so beautiful on you.”

Your face warmed at the compliment. “Yes, I’ll wear it,” you said to appease him. “Now go, please. Go talk to Ray. Call Steve. Plot and scheme or do whatever the hell it is that you do when you aren't thinking about me.”

He smiled and kissed your temple as he walked by. “But I'm always thinking of you,” he said fondly, narrowing his eyes at Curtis. “Don't touch my girl.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” your bodyguard promised.

“I will hurl an egg at your head, I swear!” You stomped a foot when Bucky’s laughter rang out in the hall. He drove you crazy. “Did I just stomp my foot?” you asked Curtis.

“Like a child, but I don't blame you,” he teased, unloading the rest of the groceries. “I think you’ve earned unlimited temper tantrums.”

You giggled and looked over what he bought. “This is everything I need.”

“Recipe from your apartment,” he said when you were about to question how he or Bucky knew to get the special ingredients.

You hang your head for a moment. It wasn't your apartment anymore. “Thanks. I'm sorry you had to buy the stuff for your own brownies.”

“I don't mind,” he said, taking a seat on the stool. It did nothing to take away from his intimidating stature. “Do I scare you?” he asked when your gaze lingered.

“No,” you said honestly. As intimidating as he was, he didn't scare you. He seemed protective of you, and not just because he worked for Bucky. “Do you resent that you're my bodyguard?”

“No,” he said easily, running a hand on the back of his neck. “Someone needs to look out for you, and I’m glad it’s me.”

You began to move around the kitchen to familiarize yourself with where everything was. “Why is that?”

He didn't say anything as he stared at a spot on the island. “Because I know what it's like to feel trapped with nowhere else to go,” he said so quietly you almost missed it.

You spun your head toward him. “You're trapped?” you asked. How and why?

His blue eyes searched yours and you thought he’d elaborate when he opened his mouth. He shook his head instead and softly asked, “Can I help at all?”

You regarded him carefully. Was he talking about the brownies or you? And if he was talking about you, what could you say without it getting back to Bucky? “Thanks, but I'm okay,” you said, offering him a smile which he barely returned.

As you grabbed what you needed, you thought about how the rest of the day would go. What would your parents say when they met Bucky? What would Bucky say to them? Would you tell them anything about what happened? Would they care or try to help you if you did? And what was Curtis's story? Maybe he’d tell you.

Or maybe you’d both remained trapped in Bucky’s world.

Oh, how will this lunch go? And what do we think is Curtis's story? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

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