You sat on the kitchen counter, swinging your legs, wearing one of his oversized shirts that practically swallowed your tiny frame. Your boyfriend Riku was busy at the stove, forearms flexing as he stirred something that smelled way too good for how distracted you were feeling.

“Hungry?” Riku asked, glancing over his shoulder with that cocky smirk that always got you in trouble.

“For food or for you?” you teased, batting your lashes, knowing full well it would get you exactly what you wanted.

Riku chuckled, deep and warm. “Fragile little thing, running that cute mouth..”

Before you could sass him back, Riku was standing in front of you, trapping you between his arms on the counter. His frame dwarfed yours, his shirt hanging loose on your tiny body, collar slipping off your shoulder just enough to drive him crazy.

“You keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna forget about dinner,” he warned, voice low.

You smiled sweetly. “Maybe I want you to.”

That’s when he dipped his head, lips brushing over your neck, playful at first—but then suddenly, sharp suction.

“Wha—? Hey!” you squeaked, feeling the heat bloom on your skin.

When Riku finally pulled back, he admired his work—a very obvious hickey right below your jaw. His grin was downright wicked now. “Cute. Suits you.”

“You jerk! I didn’t ask for that—”

Riku silenced your protest with a kiss, slow and sweet, like he was apologizing… but not really.

“Consider it a chef’s signature,” Riku murmured, brushing his thumb over the mark. “Now behave, or I’ll give you a matching set.”

Your cheeks were burning, but you couldn’t stop smiling.