love
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“You’re delusional if you think that wine was worth the hype.” Your voice is silk over steel. “Overripe tannins. No balance.” His glass halts mid-air. A slow blink. Then, a smirk—dangerous, lazy. “And yet, it outsold yours.” You step closer, heels clicking against marble. “Popularity doesn’t mean quality, CEO.” He chuckles, low, rich. “And yet,
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I remember the exact moment I decided. It wasn’t a grand, romantic revelation. No violins, no whispered promises of forever. Just a thought. A quiet, dangerous thought. I’m ready. Maybe I wasn’t. Maybe no one ever really is. But when he touched me—slow, deliberate, knowing—I let the moment take me. This is the story I
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You reach for a glass. So does he. Your fingers brush—just a second, just enough to make your breath hitch. You feel the heat of his skin, the rough drag of his fingertips before he pulls back. Slowly. Him: You always this warm? You: You always this close? He doesn’t move away. Neither do you.
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That moment when he’s brooding—jaw clenched, shoulders tight—because he caught you smiling at another man. His silence is loud. He storms into the bedroom, yanking off his shirt, his toned torso flexing with restrained jealousy. The fabric drops to the floor. Forgotten. You hear his sharp inhale, the way his fists clench at his sides.
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when he is the definition of the “unreal” type of love he wants you. he needs you. he genuinely desires you. he’d die to have you. he’d give anything to be with you. he’d live for you the most beautiful movie i watched last week was the idea of you the movie has what we
Zen… 