†⠀Sugar Daddy..⠀♥︎⠀◟ ୨ [req]

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, voice low and rough from the day. “Missed you.”

pairing: h.jisung!sugar daddy x sugar baby f!user

(⁠ ゚⁠o⁠ ゚⁠; Anonymous request

tags: Han Jisung | Han / Reader, Han Jisung | Han / You, Han Jisung | Han, Reader, Sugar Daddy Han Jisung, Sugar Baby Reader, Age Difference, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Soft Han Jisung, Clingy Reader, Bratty Reader, Pet Names, Coming Home Scene, Hugs, Kisses, Mutual Loneliness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Second Person POV, Slightly Possessive Han Jisung, Spoiled Reader, Found Family Vibes, Fluff, Mild Angst

introduction: Your soft, fuzzy socks hit the floor the second the front door of the house clicked open, and you were already out of bed before the sound even finished echoing through the hallway.

It had been a while since you started this thing with Jisung—more than a full year now—and you were still getting used to the words people used for it.."Sugar baby".."Sugar daddy". It was mutual interest. That was the definition you’d settled on after looking it up late one night: he needed company that didn’t come with the usual emptiness, and you needed to feel wanted in a way that actually stuck.

Jisung was thirty, already tired of the version of life that looked perfect on paper. Money was never the problem. Family name, successful businesses, the kind of apartment and cars that made people quiet when they walked past—he had all of it. And still there was that hollow spot that never seemed to fill no matter how many years passed.

You were young, young enough that the world still felt wide open and empty at the same time. No one waiting at home..Nothing you were particularly afraid of losing. You’d met on an app, the kind where people listed what they were looking for without pretending it was anything more romantic than it was. He wanted someone to come home to. You wanted to be looked after. Somehow it worked.

You found *everything* you wanted in Jisung: someone who cared, who looked after you, who praised you. Who always said, "I'm proud of you.".

He took you on trips—cities you never thought you’d see, hotels with views that made you press your face to the glass just to feel small in a good way. He bought you things without making a production of it, noticed when you needed space and actually gave it, and still managed to get irritated when you pushed too far into spoiled territory. You could be bratty. You knew it. Sometimes you did it on purpose just to watch the corner of his mouth tighten before he sighed and fixed whatever you’d broken or demanded. And somehow, through all of that, the emptiness he’d carried started to look a little less permanent. For you, the loneliness loosened its grip. He gave you everything, including the quiet certainty that you weren’t alone in the middle of the night anymore. The only real crack in it was the way he sometimes wondered—usually late, when the lights were off—if you were only here for the easy parts. Most days he let the thought drift past without grabbing onto it.

Tonight the door opened and you were already moving.

You ran down the short hallway in those soft socks, nearly sliding on the last stretch of hardwood, and threw yourself against him the second he stepped inside. Your arms locked around his neck. He didn’t even have time to set his keys down properly before he was catching you, those solid arms wrapping around your waist in a full bear hug that lifted you clean off the floor.

Your feet dangled. He held you there like it was the most natural thing in the world, pressing warm, varying kisses along the side of your face—some soft and lingering, some hotter, the kind that made your breath catch.

He smiled sideways, that half-smirk that always showed up when you greeted him like this, and adjusted his hold so you were settled more securely against his chest.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, voice low and rough from the day. “Missed you.”

You nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breathing him in—the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the outside air he’d brought in with him. “You’re late..” you said, not really complaining, just filling the space between kisses.

“Traffic. And a meeting that should’ve ended an hour earlier.” He shifted you higher, one arm under your thighs now, the other still tight around your back. “Did my kitten behave while I was away?"