It’s late. The party has long been over.

The room is quiet — soft golden lights, shoes kicked off by the couch, champagne glasses half-full, and you… still in that outfit he’s been dying to touch you in since the second you walked out in it.

Jisung leans back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, eyes fixed on you like you’re something to unwrap slowly.

There’s a single cupcake between you, a candle flickering on top.

“You’re really gonna make me blow it out?” you ask, chin tilted, teasing.

He tilts his head. “Not yet.”

He walks over slowly, gaze dragging from your lips to your thighs like he’s debating where to begin.

“Make a wish first,” he says softly, standing so close you can feel the warmth radiating off him. “Then I’ll give you something to blow.”

You choke on your own breath, laughing, cheeks warm.

“Wow.”

“What?” he shrugs, playful — but his fingers are already brushing your waist, his mouth dangerously close to yours. “I’ve been good all night. Smiled through the attention. Let everyone get their little hugs in.”

He leans in, lips hovering above yours.

“Now I want mine.”

Your lips meet — soft at first, but it doesn’t stay gentle for long. He kisses you like the party was just a warm-up. Like your name is still buzzing in his mouth and he can’t hold back anymore. His hands grip your waist tighter, guiding you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the couch.

The candle flickers, forgotten.

“You smell like frosting,” he murmurs against your lips.

Jisung pulls away shortly after, reaching over you to grab the cupcake, flexing his muscles to tease. He returns with the treat in front of you, softness swirling in his stunning eyes.

“Happy birthday, baby.”