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pyeongstarr · 5 months ago

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can you do a yunho reader thigh riding where shes his gf

Missed You | j.yunho

Pairing: Idol!Yunho x Nonceleb!Reader Genre: Smut/Fluff (MDNI) - mostly smut, very little fluff but still a main theme. Requested: Yes w.c. 3.5k Warnings: Thigh riding, established relationship, praise, slight degradation (nothing in a hateful way), size kink if you squint, namecalling, pet names, humping, I think that's it? If you notice any potentially triggering content not listed here please let me know. A/N: Hello lovelies ~ it feels so good to be back. I haven't written in a while but after browsing some of the amazing fanfic writers here it really made me miss it. Thank you to anon for my very first request! Also, this is poorly edited so please don't mind any errors. I will likely edit it in the future if I find any. Please excuse my rusty skills as well, I promise I'll get better! Requests: Open ~ please see the guidelines for requesting here.

5 months.

For 5 months, your gorgeous golden retriever boyfriend had been gone on tour, and you were expected to endure a meal with him and the members. They’d landed just hours ago and were no doubt exhausted, but Yunho looked as unfairly beautiful as ever. There were shadows under his eyes and he definitely seemed to be craving home, but the moment he’d spotted you when you walked into the restaurant…god. His tongue had slid over his lower lip, likely thinking about the way you taste, long fingers raking down his pants as if to stop the tingling spreading through him. He was wearing casual clothes, just a hoodie and a pair of jeans, but nothing could hide the art of his figure. Tall and lean, toned where it counts. His broad shoulders, his chest and stomach that you loved peppering with kisses. And those thighs.

You’d never really considered how sexy a man’s thighs were until you’d met Jeong Yunho. Muscular and thick, perfect for sitting on when he was in the mood to game for hours. Fine with you—was there anything more fun than teasing your lanky gamer boyfriend in the middle of a match? Squirming in his lap, making him fumble the controller and lose until you were bent in half, said boyfriend sinking into you?

Dinner.

Dinner dinner dinner.

You were proud of the boys and knew this was important, so despite wanting to jump his bones, you kept yourself in check and listened to the bickering between Woo and Jongho, beginning to wonder if Seonghwa had opted to dye his hair white to hide the grey caused by his children.

You were about to scold them yourself to give the poor Captain and His Wife™ a break, but a warm hand sliding up your thigh made the words die in your throat in an embarrassingly high pitched sound. You coughed to cover it up—thank god for Woo as no one was paying attention to you—and glanced up at Yunho.

“I missed you baby,” he hummed, low enough that only you could hear. His pretty lips formed a smirk that wasn’t as sweet as his words. You smiled up at him, placing your smaller hand on top of his and squeezing, silently begging him to leave you the fuck alone before you drag him to the bathroom.

“Missed you too,” you reply, making a visible effort to turn back to the conversation you weren’t part of.

You’d hoped he was just being coy, teasing you a bit, but he apparently wasn’t satisfied with your reaction as his hand slipped inward. He wasn’t far above your knee, but it didn’t matter, making you clamp your legs together and grip his wrist beneath the table. The smug bastard smiled, hiding it in his glass as he took a sip of water.

It was irritating, the mere fact that his large hand spanned much of your upper leg making you squirm. It was far too easy for him to rile you up, while he managed to maintain composure most of the time. You bit the inside of your cheek and released his wrist, your own hand moving to his lap. Yunho stiffened a bit, but that was it. You spread your fingers over his thigh, squeezing once before gently moving your hand side to side.

When he turned to San and casually asked about next week’s practice schedule, it felt like a slap to the face.

You’ve been dating for 3 years. You’ve fucked countless times on many, many surfaces. But when your fingers slid toward his crotch and found his cock already fully erect, you tore your hand away as though it had burned you. The bickering had died down, so to hide the flush on your face you took a sip of water. Yunho hadn’t even flinched, still conversing, unbothered, and wearing that cocky little grin.

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You almost felt guilty about the buzz you felt as everyone began to say goodbye, promising to rest before work started up again next week. You could’ve sworn Yunho was purposefully talkative tonight, as you knew damn well he didn’t care whether or not Yeosang’s apartment had more than one elevator. By the time he was willing to humor you, you were all but vibrating next to the company’s black SUV, the driver waiting much more patiently than you.

Yunho had the audacity to ask if you were ready to go, his warm hand sliding over the small of your back. You nodded so quickly you were almost dizzy.

The SUV was quite tall, and you were…quite not. So when he opened the door for you, you prepared to climb inside ungracefully, but your boyfriend placed both hands on your hips and lifted you into the vehicle. You had no time to react, as he was climbing in after you. You prepared to shuffle across the seat to give him space, but he easily caught your wrist and yanked you across his lap. One hand gathered both of your wrists, the other resting calmly over your ass. You both glanced over at the same time to make sure the divider was closed.

“Someone’s horny,” he chuckled warmly, the hand on your ass moving in a slow circle. You frowned, tugging your wrists out of his grasp so you could sit up. Your hands found his shoulders and you swung a leg over his waist, straddling him but not letting your full weight rest against his cock just yet.

“Jeong fucking Yunho—I have been waiting 5 months for you and not just so you can grope me in a restaurant,” you grumble, fisting his hoodie.

“Technically speaking, all I did was touch your thigh. You, however, grabbed my—”

You shut him up with a kiss, mushing your mouth against his so hard you could feel your teeth pressing the inside of your lips. Yunho’s large hands found your waist, squeezing, trying to pull you down against his aching groin. You resist by using your knees, the grunt of irritation escaping him making you laugh.

“What’s funny?” Yunho asked, sucking your lower lip between his teeth. The shock made you gasp, and he used the opportunity to buck off of the seat of the car, hips meeting the plush underside of your ass.

Unwilling to let him win whatever the hell this was, you moved a knee between you, coming dangerously close to his clothed cock.

“Nothing, just my desperate boy acting like a dog,” you hum breathlessly. “All worked up, trying to call me out as the slut here.”

“You fucking—” Yunho grumbled. He wrapped both arms around you, crushing you against his chest and leaving you no choice but to straddle him again. This time, he hugged you tight; you could hardly breathe as he rutted against you so hard that it made you squeak.

You wanted to do more than pitifully submit, but you thanked the gods you’d decided to wear a dress, as each dry thrust pushed his cock right against your clothed clit. It was shameful how needy you felt, already able to feel a second heartbeat between your legs, the familiar ache as your cunt woke up from its 5 month hibernation.

“Thought about you every night,” Yunho groaned, his breath coming out in pants as he did all he could to create friction between your bodies. “You have no idea, baby. ‘m gonna fuck you until we pass out.”

“Yeah?” you manage to weakly spit out, your fingers curling into the material of his hoodie. You knew you should do more, give more, but your head was spinning, mouth dry from moments of contact after so long.

“Yeah. You’re gonna make those sounds for me, just like you did over the phone. Want you to say my name,” he says, his head falling back against the seat. “Fucking pillows…nothing looks as pretty as you.”

“P-Pillows?” you mumble, pulling back enough to look at him, his hips still working against your body. He licks his lips, eyes squinted as he looks over your face, nodding.

“Mm.”

“You…you fucked a pillow?”

“Mhm. ‘s soft and I can hold it down just like you, pretend it’s my girl taking me so good,” he rambles, not an ounce of shame in his tone.

Fuck.

You’d used fingers and toys, nothing doing what he could do for you. You assumed he used his hand—knew it, actually, based on the sparse dirty phone calls you’d managed to have. But the idea of Yunho, your gigantic boyfriend, desperately fucking against a pillow because it reminds him of you…it did something to you, woke something up that you were not proud of. You wanted to see it.

“Gonna hurt you…”

“H-huh?” you stammer, your cheeks flushing red despite your current state as you were caught daydreaming about Yunho and the poor pillow.

“It’s gonna hurt, baby. Need you wet,” he breathes. He reaches his hand between you, catching you off guard as he swipes beneath your panties, rubbing the sticky wetness of your cunt. You let out a broken moan, your hole clenching around nothing like muscle memory as you think of those long fingers pumping into you.

“I’m wet Yuyu,” you say, silently praying he gives you something, even just a finger to the first knuckle. But Yunho shakes his head, hands settled on your hips.

“Not enough…I’m telling you it’s going to hurt. Need you to cum first.”

“When we get home—”

“Now, y/n,” he says. His voice isn’t mean, not even commanding like it can be, but it still sends a shiver down your spine.

“O-Okay,” you mumble shyly, glancing back as if the driver might decide to open the divider. He didn’t, probably knowing better. “Use your fingers.”

“No,” Yunho mumbles. He easily manipulates your body until you’re perched atop one thigh. “Like this. Love it when you ride me.”

You exhale, situating yourself until your cunt is pressed against his jeans. Your hands tighten their grip on his shoulders, and you meet his eyes as you begin to move, grinding against his leg. Yunho’s mouth opens, a gasped curse leaving his mouth as you lick your lips.

“Faster baby,” he murmurs, eyes trailing over you as you rut against him, “want you desperate. Want you to whine.”

“Fuck,” you say to no one, rolling your hips forward. Yunho grips the seat on either side of you both, fingers twitching like he wants to grab you and move you himself. But he just watches, licking his lips and nodding as you drive yourself to the edge on his thigh.

You feel him flex, the hardened muscle beneath you offering a firmness that makes you shudder. There’s a hotness between your legs as your juices coat his thigh, creating a wet patch on his jeans. After so many months, you’re sensitive, but unfamiliar with the movement as you struggle to hit the mark.

You falter, pausing to catch your breath.

“Don’t stop, baby,” Yunho says, his voice almost a whine. Your head falls forward on his shoulder, shame making your face warm.

“It’s been a while,” you mumble. “Sorry, yu.”

“Want me to help? Hm? Need me to make you feel good?” he whispers, lips catching your cheek. You nod weakly, fisting his hoodie again as his warm hands move to your waist, squeezing once before he begins to move you. Your body is like putty to him, and he grinds you down against his thigh like a doll.

“How’s that feel?” he asks, burying his face against your hair. You nod, unable to say much. He does it just right, somehow knowing your body better than you do.

Yunho reaches between you, hooking his thumb into the front of your panties and tugging them to the side. You gasp as your bare clit makes contact with his jeans, able to feel just how much you’d soaked through them. The thought makes you buck against him, catching the friction yourself with a choked gasp.

“That’s it, baby,” Yunho says, one hand going back to the seat while the other keeps your panties pulled to the side. “Like that. Let me see you use me to make that pretty cunt wet.”

“Fuck, Yunho,” you whimper, your hips beginning to move in a steady rhythm. He hums in approval, biting his lower lip hard as he watches you carefully. You groan and wrap both arms around his shoulders, squeezing your eyes closed as you grind hard against his thigh. The scent of his cologne is stronger now that he’s sweating, the smell making you dizzy and needy. You lower your head to his throat and kiss him there, tasting the saltiness of his skin while your tongue leaves a wet trail.

“There she is,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side. You whimper and mouth at his skin, nipping and sucking as you work yourself to destruction on him. He groans as you latch onto his pulse point, using his free hand to grip your hair and pull you off of him.

“Be good,” he chuckles softly. You bite your lower lip, eyes wide and brows tight, hands moving up to scratch gently at the nape of his neck.

All it takes is a few seconds of you staring at him like that, still rutting helplessly against his thigh, needing to mark him up. Yunho sighs and leans back to get his hands between you, grabbing both his hoodie and shirt and tugging them over his head. His chest and stomach are revealed, your hands immediately palming at his skin. He nods and runs his thumb over your lower lip.

“Go ahead baby,” he hums. “Nothing above my collar bones, yeah?”

You nod obediently and kiss him softly, his lips plush and warm as always. You want to cry at the sensation of coming home, despite the fact that you were currently humping your hot boyfriend’s thigh during the longest car ride to your apartment ever.

You go for his shoulders first, you bite down and get your hips back into rhythm, relishing in his hiss of pain. Your teeth leave marks as you let go, breath hot against his skin.

Your nails leave half moon crescents as they work with your teeth, leaving a trail of love bites over the expanse of his chest. You’ve momentarily forgotten the goal here, though Yunho has no trouble reminding you. When you go in to kiss him again, he catches a fistful of your hair once more.

“You don’t want my cock going in like this,” he murmurs, free hand gently smacking your thigh. “Running out of time, babygirl.”

“I’m wet, Yunho,” you whine, bouncing in irritation. “Jus’ wanna kiss you. I can take it.”

Yunho stares at you for a few seconds, eyes trailing over your form where you’ve paused your movement.

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you huff, rolling your eyes. Since when can you not take his cock? He was huge, sure, but it’s not like you’ll break.

“How much?”

“What?”

“How much?” he repeats, his hand slipping between you again. You try not to react as his thumb goes beneath your sticky panties, easily sliding over your swollen clit.

“All of it,” you scoff, unsure of what he was saying. Yunho smiles.

“No, I mean how much? How long can you take it? I’m not gonna stop, baby,” he says roughly. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Gonna fuck you until you can’t move…still gonna fuck you until you ask me to stop.”

You pause at this, licking your lips and jolting at the heat sprouting from between your thighs.

“I-I can take it still,” you mumble, grinding down against his hand. He moves it, tugging your panties again, the cooled wetness of his jeans making you shiver.

“I’m gonna take my fill, baby,” he says, watching you move against his thigh. “Been practicing. Edging myself for months. Gotta make sure I use that pretty pussy until it’s wrecked and full of my cum.”

You squeak, your brain trying to think of a good response to that. Yunho chuckles and lifts his knee, making you involuntarily buck against him.

“You gonna shut up now and make sure you can do that for me? Get that little cunt wet enough so I can use it as much as I need to?”

“Y-yes,” you stammer. His dark eyes drop to see the result of your grinding, the wetness beneath you.

“Good girl,” Yunho nods. “Come on. Harder baby, need you to make a mess on my jeans.”

You do as he asks, grinding hard against his thigh, biting your lower lip as he alternates, flexing and relaxing the muscle beneath you. You move your hand to his and push it away, tugging your panties aside in one hand and gripping his shoulder with the other, looking down with parted lips because holy shit—you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet.

He feels so fucking good, there’s so much more you need from him, want to do for him, but you promised you’d cum. So you rub and grind and clench your teeth until you’re mumbling incoherently, much to his delight.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl. So fucking pretty and stupid when she gets desperate, can’t understand a word you’re saying,” he says, hands finding your waist. You sob and begin clumsily rutting against him, no rhythm whatsoever, just desperation and chasing physical sensations. Yunho loves to see it, coaxing you over the edge the closer you get.

“That all you’ve been thinking about, baby? All your holes getting stuffed? Bet you miss waking me up with my cock in your throat.”

You whimper and nod, eyes shut tight as your orgasm remains just out of reach. You need him to do it, to finish you off, you’re not sure what that would be, just that you want him to help.

“M-More yu, gimme more,” you whine softly, mouth open like a dog as you pant.

“More? More what? I haven’t given you anything, babygirl,” he chuckles. You’re not in the mood to play with words, but Yunho suddenly grabs your chin, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. You feel the burn of tears as you squirm and rut, his eyes full of satisfaction.

“You still gonna ask for more when I’m stuffed inside you?” he asks roughly. You nod eagerly, but Yunho only smirks.

“Knew you would, baby. Such a fucking slut for me. I tell you to ride me and here you are, too needy to realize we would’ve been home half an hour ago.”

“H-Huh?” you mumble out, that knot in your stomach untwisting. “F-Fuck, ‘m… g-gonna—”

“Gonna what? Ruin my jeans with your pretty pussy? All so I can get my cock inside as soon as I get you home?”

“Yunho,” you sob, a gasp on your lips as you begin to cum, eyes squeezing shut.

You ride out one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had, mouth open, nothing coming out but pitiful squeaks and choked sobs. Yunho watches, lip caught between his teeth, holding you tight as you briefly leave this plane of existence in his arms.

“So fucking beautiful,” he breathes when you finally open your eyes, releasing a mixture between a cry and a sigh. “My good girl. I’m the luckiest man on this planet, baby.”

You choose to breathe rather than respond, but he’s fine with that, hugging you to his bare chest and cupping the back of your head.

“I love you so much, you know that?” he says, words muffled as he speaks against your hair. “Can’t wait to get you home. Gonna show you how much I missed you.”

He runs his fingers through your damp hair. You know you look wrecked already, and you’ll be shocked if you last more than one round tonight. But you’ll try for him.

“M-Missed you too, yuyu,” you weakly reply. “Why…why aren’t we home?”

Yunho laughs, brushing your hair back to kiss your temple.

“Arranged for us to ride around for a bit beforehand. Figured one of us would cave at the restaurant,” he admits. You look up at him, the stupid boyish grin on his face making you smile.

“I love you,” you huff. He leans down, lips soft and unhurried against yours for what feels like the first time that night. He tastes no different, feels no different than he did 5 months ago, and it livens you up a bit, much to his amusement.

“I love you too, pretty.”

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pyeongstarr · 5 months ago

Text

𝗞𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰: 𝗛𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗱

Word Count: 4.3 K (I told you, It's been in my head for a long time)

Warnings: Jeong Yunho x sub!fem reader, Haunting Adeline AU, DUB-CON, partial somnophilia, unprotected sex, olfactophilia (scent play), sexual persuasion, stalker!yunho, oral (fem receiving), possessiveness, nipple play, jealousy, fear play, manipulation, kissing, biting, marking, praise (princess, good girl etc) and body worship.

Warning: 18+ only of course. This is a DARK FIC and it contains taboo and dark depictions of abuse that could be triggering. If you choose to read further, then you have heeded this warning and I hold no responsibility for your emotional well-being.

No sound was more loud and teeth-chattering than the wind howling

The night used to be your friend, a safe space, a creative outlet for your inner world and thoughts.

But now it felt like it was taunting you, teasing you as you held the coffee mug in your frozen hands, forcing yourself to stay awake as the minutes felt slow and agonising.

You prayed for the comfort of being alone now knowing you weren't...ever.

For He was always there.

Another rose was found on the coffee table this morning, all fresh and pruned with the thorns removed and a piece of paper wrapped around the stem.

The delicate handwriting revealed the next mission of this uninvited presence and it caused you to feel a sense of uneasiness you've never felt before.

My patience is running thin. I'll be with you tonight, my princess. Yunho

You silently walked over to the window that was uncovered by the drapes, watching the raindrops fall on the glass as you peered outside to gaze at the shrubbery and looming pine trees.

You hid in the shadows, trying not to reveal your face as you peered out the front of your domain, no sign of civilian life around you at all.

There was fear inside of you, fear of your safety and for your life sure but there was anticipation and curiosity.

Probably a lot less fear than you should have for the stalker who's found you, isolated you and admittedly-cared for you.

Your eyes lock onto the shadow formation in the bushes, your heart racing as you found your dark knight.

His tall, lithe build standing there in the heavy rain, covered in black and the hood of his parka covering his face except for a small sliver that revealed the plumpness of his lips and defined cupid's bow.

The one that has been sending you roses month after months, all pruned with pieces of paper tied around the stem.

The one that has been leaving nicely-packaged gifts on the empty side of your bed, all wrapped in crimson paper with a pretty rose on top.

All containing gifts of the highest quality such as perfume, a silver necklace with the 'Y' initial, makeup, sanitary products (how did he even know when your cycle was?), panties.

The latest one was an oversized plain, black t-shirt that smelt of musk and cologne, it smelt like he had worn it, slept in it...some perverted part of you wondered if he had worn it whilst jerking off with you in his mind- what was he even thinking about doing to you?

All the messages he gifted to you all revealed the same desires but with sickly, sweet words.

How he yearns for you. How he loves you, how he just wants to protect you, care for you, be your safety net from the cruelty of the world.

His desire to take you, claim you, ravage you, to bend and mould you to his will.

It felt like you were being courted and hunted for at the same time, were you to be his Queen or a gilded bird locked in a cage?

The reality of the situation quickened when the shadow form moved, your eyes locked on how his lips turned into a twisted smirk and he lifted his right hand to offer you a slow, taunting wave.

You quickly dashed away from the window without bothering to close it, running to the middle living and dropping yourself in front of the glowing hearth- wrapping the blanket around your shoulders further tightly around your body.

Ring the police, scream, run...why aren't you doing this? You hadn't even locked the doors...why? What's wrong with you?

The truth was this man brought out a perverted joy in you, the joy of being wanted, of being pursued, a temptation stirred in your belly at what could happen tonight.

He wouldn't kill you (at least you hoped) and you were tired, burnt out, lonely...maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to let him in?

The thoughts were too much for your sleep-deprived brain to cope with and in front of the hearth with a pillow on the floor and your blanket wrapped around you.

You fell asleep.

You lost the game.

The room was steeped in darkness, the only light a faint sliver of moonlight filtering through the curtains. The air was thick with the kind of stillness that made everything feel suspended in time.

Yunho stood silently near your feet, watching you scrunch your nose up cutely whilst you were asleep on the floor with the hearth flame slowly turning into ash.

He had been watching you for what felt like hours, the corners of his lips curled in a faint, almost tender smile. There was something intoxicating about your vulnerability, the way you were completely unaware of his presence. You were so peaceful, so trusting in your sleep, and it stirred something dark and possessive within him.

Yunho moved closer, the floorboards creaking ever so slightly under his weight. His breath hitched as he reached out, his fingers hovering just above your skin. He could feel the warmth radiating from you could almost hear the blood pulsing just beneath the surface. The urge to touch you, to claim you as his own, was overwhelming. Yet, he held back, savoring the moment, relishing in the power he had over you.

But he resisted, choosing instead to let his fingers trace a delicate line down the side of your face, his touch as light as a feather.

Your skin was soft, impossibly soft, and he could feel you shiver under his touch, your body reacting even in sleep. It was intoxicating, this power he held over you, this control. He could do anything—anything—and you would be helpless to stop him. The thought sent a thrill down his spine, dark and thrilling, as he leaned in even closer, his lips hovering just above your ear.

“Mine,” he whispered, the word barely audible, but it sent a shiver through you, your body instinctively curling in on itself, as if trying to escape an unseen threat. Yunho’s smile widened, satisfaction and something far darker curling in his chest. You were his, in every sense of the word, and tonight he would make sure you knew it.

As if sensing the shift in the air, your eyes flutter open, groggy and unfocused at first. You blink, your vision clearing, only to find Yunho’s face inches from your own, his eyes dark and intense, filled with an emotion that sends a chill down your spine. Panic surges through you as you try to push yourself up, but Yunho’s hand is already on your wrist, holding you in place with a grip that is firm yet strangely gentle.

“Shhh,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, but there’s a sinister edge to it, a promise of something far more dangerous lurking beneath the surface. “Don’t be afraid. I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, a wild, frantic rhythm that matches the fear rising within you. But there’s something else too, something that makes your pulse quicken for an entirely different reason. His gaze is intense, burning with a possessive hunger that makes you feel both terrified and inexplicably drawn to him.

“What do you want?” you breathe, your voice trembling as you search his eyes for any hint of mercy, but all you find is that same dark intensity, a need that matches your own but twisted into something far more dangerous.

Yunho’s smile is slow, almost predatory, as he leans in even closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “You. I want you, all of you. And I’m not letting you go.”

The words send a shiver through you, a mix of fear and something far more dangerous, something that makes your pulse race with a heady mix of terror and desire. You know you should fight, should scream, should do anything to escape his hold, but all you can do is stare into his eyes, trapped in the dark, magnetic pull of his gaze.

And then, with a gentleness that belies the darkness in his eyes, Yunho releases your wrist, his fingers brushing against your skin as he pulls back slightly, giving you just enough space to breathe, to think, but not enough to escape. The room feels colder without his touch, and you realize with a start that a part of you misses the warmth, the connection, no matter how twisted it is.

“What are you going to do to me?” you whisper, your voice barely audible, your fear mixing with a curiosity you can’t quite suppress.

Yunho’s smile is slow, almost lazy, as if he has all the time in the world. “That depends on you,” he replies, his voice soft but filled with a dangerous promise. “But one thing is certain—you won’t ever want to leave me. Not after tonight.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and full of meaning, as Yunho’s gaze holds yours, daring you to resist, to fight, even as he knows you won’t. Not really. The darkness in him calls to something deep within you, something you hadn’t known existed until this moment, something that responds to his possessiveness, his unyielding desire to claim you as his own.

And as the tension thickens between you, you realize with a start that you’re not entirely sure you want to resist. Not when the alternative is losing yourself completely to the dark, twisted allure of Yunho’s obsession.

“You don’t have to be afraid,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, but there’s an edge to it, a raw, unfiltered need that makes your breath catch in your throat. “I’ll take care of you my princess, I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted… if you let me.”

His hand moves to your neck, his thumb brushing against your pulse, feeling the frantic beat of your heart beneath his touch. You can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” Yunho whispers, his lips grazing the sensitive skin just below your ear. “For you. You have no idea how much I want you.”

His dark hair frames his lashes and enhances the intensity of his gaze, the parka gone from his shoulders and now replaced by a black, long-sleeved henley shirt and his cheeks flushed red with desire.

His other hand moves to your waist, pulling you closer, his touch firm yet gentle, as if he’s afraid you might disappear if he’s too rough. But you’re not going anywhere—you can’t, even if you wanted to.

There’s a moment of hesitation, a brief second where you could pull away, where you could resist the pull of his gaze, the magnetic attraction that binds you to him.

'How I needed you'

His lips brush against yours, soft and tentative at first, and whatever resistance you might have had crumbles beneath the intensity of the moment.

The kiss is slow, deliberate, filled with a hunger that Yunho has kept restrained for far too long. His hand moves from your neck to cradle the back of your head, deepening the kiss, and you find yourself responding, your body leaning into him, craving the warmth and the connection despite the fear that lingers in the back of your mind.

Yunho groans against your lips, the sound vibrating through your entire body, sending a rush of heat pooling in your lower abdomen. His grip on your waist tightens, pulling you even closer until there’s no space left between you. The kiss becomes more urgent, more demanding, and you can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you try to process what just happened. His forehead rests against yours, his eyes half-lidded, dark with desire as he looks at you like you’re the only thing that matters.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, the words a possessive growl that sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine. “Say it.”

There’s no hesitation in your response, the words tumbling from your lips before you can even think to stop them. “I’m yours.”

Yunho’s eyes flare with satisfaction, and then he’s kissing you again, harder this time, his hands roaming your body with a need that borders on desperation.

He drapes his body over yours and cements you to the floor, his body providing all the heat you needed as he kisses down your neck, his teeth clamping down on the skin and leaving a mark.

A dark chuckle leaves his breath as you moan at the sting, the sensation changing as he licks over it to soothe the pain before averting his attention to the base of your throat.

You could feel how hard he was as he grinded on your thigh, it aroused and terrified you about how big he felt, your imagination betraying you as the thought of how you would take him made your mouth water.

Fuck, you hoped he was nice enough to prep you or would he be mean and expect you to take that thick cock of his without any prep at all?

His hands tug at the fabric of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one fluid motion. You shiver as the cool air hits your skin, but the chill is quickly replaced by the heat of Yunho’s touch as his hands explore every inch of you, memorizing the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice husky with desire. “So perfect.”

The praise sends a flush of heat through you, your body arching into his touch, craving more.

Your thoughts were undone when his hands cupped the curve of your breasts, squeezing them gently and kneading the flesh as a moan echoed from his throat.

'So soft, so full, just like how I imagined them princess' His voice was deep, raspy and filled with need as he leaned down and wrapped his lips around the bud, his tongue swirling and suckling as he kneaded the other one with his fingers.

Yunho could be buried in your tits all day and it would feel like heaven to him, his teeth scraping the edge as he pulled away with a thick, sucking noise before moving on to the other.

His lashes fluttered and his moans were beginning to sound like music to your ears, your hands gripping the surface beneath you as you stifled your moans, though you weren't not sure why- no one could hear you.

He pulled his mouth away from your swollen bud before reaching up to gently tilt your chin down so you could see him, his pupils blown-out and dilated- who was fucked more, you or him?

'Don't silence yourself- I need to hear you princess. You can try and fight this but I see the way you respond to me. You crave this as much as I do, even if you won't admit it'.

Your body shivered at those words as Yunho placed kisses down your naval, biting the skin every so often so your body was a myriad of his kisses and claims.

A squeal left your body as Yunho roughly pulled your hips to him, grabbing the fabric of your thin leggings and tearing the material near the crotch region.

You were fascinated at how he could tear the fabric with his bare hands, watching the veins in his hands, neck and forearms dance as he pulled the material roughly down your legs.

'I never want you this clothed when you're with me princess, I'm going to steal all the pants you own. Want you easy and pliable for when I come to your room and fuck you senseless every night'.

Yunho's eyes turned predatory and wild as he buried his nose in your panties, his hands holding down your hips and fingers kneading into the flesh.

The tip of his nose rubbed your clit through the material and your cheeks reddened at the sound of him inhaling your scent, a deep guttural groan resounded through the room.

"Mmm, you smell so sweet, baby. I could stay between your legs forever," Yunho growled, his voice rough with desire. His hands tightened around your hips as he pressed his nose harder against your clothed core, the warmth of his breath sending shivers through your body.

Your back arched involuntarily, a gasp slipping past your lips as he dragged his nose down, teasing the edge of your panties with his tongue. "You're trembling already, princess," he murmured, his lips curling into a smirk. "I haven't even started."

Yunho’s fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was dark, hungry, and it made your heart race in your chest. "Gonna ruin you, you know that, right?" His voice was low, full of promise, and it sent heat pooling between your thighs.

With your panties tossed aside, he wasted no time, his mouth finding its place against your bare skin. His tongue flicked out, teasing your clit, while his grip on your hips kept you pinned firmly in place. The sensation was overwhelming, every nerve alight with pleasure as he worked you over with expert precision.

"Yunho..." you breathed, your hands tangling in his hair, desperate for something to hold onto as your body began to quake beneath him. He hummed against you, the vibrations only adding to the intensity of your pleasure.

"You taste even better than I imagined," he groaned between licks, his voice barely above a whisper. "I could make you come like this, princess, but I want you to beg for it first."

Your body bucked against him, desperate for more, but his grip tightened, keeping you in place. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Say it," he commanded, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me how bad you need me."

Your breath hitched, every part of you aching with want. "I need you, Yunho. Please... don't stop."

His eyes darkened even more, satisfaction washing over his features. "Good girl." Then, without warning, he dove back in, his tongue and fingers relentless as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, the room filled with the sound of your breathless moans and his low growls.

You were lost in the haze of pleasure, your body trembling uncontrollably as he devoured you, your release building until it was impossible to hold back. With a final cry, you shattered, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as Yunho held you through it, his mouth never letting up until you were completely spent beneath him.

Panting, you stared up at the ceiling, still dazed from the intensity of it all. Yunho wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking as he crawled up your body, capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

"That's just the start, princess," he whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours. "You better be ready for more."

Yunho pulled back from the kiss, his lips still hovering over yours, but his eyes were blazing with something darker. His fingers trailed over your flushed skin, gripping your throat just tight enough to send a pulse of fear through you, but it only heightened the intensity of the moment.

"You think this is enough?" he growled, his voice dripping with an edge of dangerous obsession. "No, baby, I’m not even close to being done with you. You’re mine, all of you. I don’t care who’s looked at you, touched you before. From now on, I’m the only one who gets to claim you."

His hands roamed possessively over your body, fingers digging into your skin like he wanted to leave marks—like he wanted to brand you as his. "I’m going to make sure you feel me everywhere," he whispered, leaning in to nip at your ear. "You’ll wake up every morning aching for me, and no one else will ever satisfy you the way I do."

He leaned down, his tongue darting out to lick the sweat from your neck before sucking hard on the sensitive spot beneath your jaw. The bite of pain mixed with pleasure sent a shockwave through you, your body reacting instantly, but Yunho only grinned, like he could feel your helplessness.

"You think you can get away from me?" His voice was a low growl as he pressed his body flush against yours, trapping you beneath him. "You think you have any choice but to need me? No, baby, you belong to me. I’ll make sure of it."

His eyes flashed with something feral as he dragged his fingers down your body, his nails scraping just enough to leave faint red lines on your skin. "I’ll steal every last piece of you until there's nothing left for anyone else. You won’t be able to think about anyone but me."

He ripped his shirt off with one swift motion, revealing the sculpted muscle underneath, and his hands went to the button of his jeans, his gaze never leaving yours. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else," he said, his voice gravelly and raw. "You're going to beg me, over and over, for more, and I’ll make sure you're dripping with nothing but me."

He leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "You're not going anywhere, princess. You're mine. And I’m going to remind you of that every night, every time you try to breathe without me."

His grip on you tightened, and his lips curved into a wild smirk. "I’m going to make sure you never forget who owns you."

He had you locked underneath him, using his frame and height like the gilded cage he wanted to contain you in. He needed you to understand the size of him, his height, his strength and how he could overpower you in every single way.

Your eyes opened to see his shoes thrown on the floor and Yunho pulling down the zipper of his jeans, both of you naked and the hearth silhouetting Yunho's frame.

He looked like Hades who had crawled out of the shadows, an unworldly beauty only enhanced by the onyx of his eyes which were filled with an insatiable need, a need to brand you with his soul or whatever you were willing to fucking take of his.

His lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he pumped himself, your eyes widening when you saw how big he was- long, thick and girthy and your mouth became dry from the thought of it inside you.

"I’m going to make sure you feel me everywhere," he whispered, removing his hand to move your legs around his hips, "You’ll wake up every morning aching for me, and no one else will ever satisfy you the way I do."

You flinched at the feeling of the tip of his cock near your entrance, his other hand planted against the side of your face, his breath ghosted over your face he murmured against your lips.

"Tell me you're mine again, princess. Say it'.

Your pulse raced, the intensity of his words wrapping around you like a vice. "I'm yours, Yunho," you gasped, your voice trembling with both fear and need.

He thrust into you without warning, the possessiveness in every movement making your mind spin. Each thrust was a declaration, a reminder that Yunho wasn’t just taking you—he was claiming every part of you, stamping his presence on your body, heart, and soul. The world outside faded until there was nothing but him, his heat, his grip, his hunger.

'Ahh, you feel like heaven' He moaned out in ecstasy before kissing you feverishly, the swipes of his tongue matching the pace of his hips 'you're my heaven'.

A changed position has you beginning to drool for him as he drops this knees down, grabs your thighs and pushes them towards your chest, angling his hips higher and grinding over your clit.

'You're my life, I'd live for you, I'd- ahhh! I'd kill for you, I'd murder everyone in the whole world if it keeps you safe and with me'.

The overwhelming intensity of his movements drove you to the edge, and soon you were unraveling beneath him, your body quaking as he pulled you deeper into the ecstasy.

As you cried out his name, your voice hoarse from the pleasure, Yunho groaned, his own release following not long after. He held you tight, as if letting you go now would be impossible.

Yunho’s grip remained firm as he buried his face against your neck, his breath hot and ragged. The way his body pressed into yours felt overwhelming, suffocating even, as though he was trying to imprint himself on every inch of your skin.

When he finally pulled back, his breath heavy and eyes dark, Yunho stared down at you with something that made your blood run cold. His thumb traced your lips, slow and possessive, his gaze never wavering. "You can try to get away," he murmured, his voice low and almost too calm. "But no one knows you like I do. No one will ever have you like this."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling in your chest like a vice. His lips ghosted over your ear, the air between you thick with tension. "I’ve been watching you for so long... you can’t escape me now, princess."

The possessive tone in his voice was chilling, his eyes wild with a dark obsession. There was no softness here, no tenderness—only the certainty that he wasn’t letting go.

"I’ll always be watching. Always." His grip tightened slightly as if to remind you that he was never far away.

Happy surprise party gift to you from me! This is a sneak peek into next month's Kinktober and the fics won't be as long as this but thank you to everyone who supported me with posting this- I'm about to go to sleep because I'm so nervous.

I'm going to include my taglist and ppl who commented on my post regarding this fic- only read if you're interested.

Taglist: @mykryptonitelight @cursedeastern @sugarnspice630 @ja3hwa @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell @scuzmunkie @marievllr-abg @umbralhelwolf @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @junieshohoho @gyuhanniescarat @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @hologramhoneymoon @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @laylasbunbunny @anyamaris @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @i-love-ateez @michel-angelhoe @northerngalxy @justaaveragereader @silentreaderthings @daddysspecialdollyworld @abby-grace @wisejudgedragonhairdo @smilefordongil @writhingwrecked @hongthoven @almightyddeonghwa @planet-dawn

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pyeongstarr · 5 months ago

Text

Not Yours to Keep

pairing(s) : Dilf! Seonghwa x sex worker! reader

word count : 3395

summary : You were the highest bid of the week—hourglass curves, porcelain skin, and a mouth that could bring kings to their knees. Seonghwa thought one night would be enough. But the way you moaned, the way you owned every second? He forgot it was just business. You didn’t. He paid for your body… not your soul. And you were never his to keep.

genre : smut

warning(s) : Graphic sexual content, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, light degradation & praise, breeding kink, semi-public sex (window scene), power imbalance (client x escort), obsession themes, mentions of cum play and multiple rounds, explicit language, reader is a confident, high-end sex worker, daddy kink(?). Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N : Don't you guys think this one needs a part two?👀

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut 🪐

The suite was drenched in warm amber light. Gold shadows danced across the walls, glinting off the glass of whiskey resting on the table and the expensive cufflinks on the man seated in the armchair.

Park Seonghwa looked like something out of a forbidden fantasy—salt-and-pepper hair slicked back, crisp shirt unbuttoned at the top, and thick thighs spread wide, like he owned everything in the room. Including you.

You stepped in silently, the door clicking shut behind you. Your heels clicked against the marble with every step, the soft fur coat you wore slipping lower off your shoulders with each sway of your hips.

His gaze lifted—slow and deliberate.

You watched his eyes darken the moment they landed on your body. Long legs in sheer thigh-highs, garters attached to a tight black corset that cupped your tits high and tight. Your waist, delicate and small, curved into thick hips and an ass made to be worshipped. Skin like porcelain, glowing under the golden light.

“You're more beautiful than I expected,” Seonghwa murmured, voice deep and low, like velvet soaked in sin. He didn’t move from his seat—he just stared. Like he didn’t want to blink and risk missing a second.

You tilted your head, a small smirk curling your glossy lips. “You paid for the best. You were expecting anything less, baby?”

He let out a low, appreciative hum. “Come here.”

You crossed the space slowly, letting the sway of your body tease him. When you reached him, you placed one hand on the armrest and bent at the waist, lips brushing against his ear.

“I don't do small talk,” you whispered, your breath warm on his skin. “You booked the hour. Let's not waste it.”

His large hand wrapped around your waist before you could pull away, the grip firm but not rushed. His eyes scanned every inch of you—lingering at your tits, your thighs, your lips.

“I don’t want to waste a second,” he said, pulling you onto his lap with a low groan. “But I wanna enjoy my fucking prize first.”

You gasped softly as your ass sank into his thighs, his warm palm sliding up the back of your corset, tracing the curve of your spine with his knuckles. His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face so he could look at you—really look.

“You’re stunning,” he said softly, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. “I’d pay double just to kiss you.”

You chuckled, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Then kiss me, daddy.”

That broke something in him.

His mouth crashed into yours with a desperate hunger—no hesitation. His lips were soft but his kiss was rough, devouring. Tongue pushing past your lips, tasting you like he’d waited years to do it. He groaned into your mouth, fingers digging into your hips as you rocked slightly on his lap.

You pulled back just enough to breathe, your lip already slick from him. “You like kissing the ones you pay for?”

He smirked, eyes dropping to your chest, the tops of your tits spilling over your corset. “Only when they taste this good.”

His hands moved to your thighs, sliding under your garters, gripping thick flesh with both hands as he pulled you against the hard bulge straining in his slacks.

“Let me unwrap you,” he whispered, kissing down your neck. “Slow... like the expensive gift you are.”

You leaned back, letting him take control as his fingers moved to the laces of your corset.

His fingers moved with control, each tug at the laces of your corset slow and intentional. You watched the way his eyes never left your body, like he was memorizing the way your skin peeked out with every inch he loosened.

“You wear this just for me?” he asked, voice husky against your collarbone.

“I wear it for the one who pays the most,” you teased with a small, smug smile.

He chuckled—dark, low. “Then let me make sure I’m the only one who ever gets to take it off.”

He finally pulled the corset open, the fabric slipping down your arms, revealing your bare tits to the warm air. His breath caught for a moment—just a small hitch in his throat before he cupped one in his palm, heavy and soft, thumbing your nipple as it hardened under his touch.

“Fuck,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss the top curve of your breast. “They’re even better than I imagined.”

His lips wrapped around one nipple, warm and wet, sucking just enough to make your breath catch. The other hand massaged the other, squeezing, rolling your sensitive skin until you were grinding down on his lap, needy and aching.

“Want me to fuck you like this?” he asked, voice muffled against your chest. “With you bouncing on my cock while I play with these perfect tits?”

You moaned, hips bucking slightly. “You gonna keep teasing or you gonna earn it?”

That’s when his hands dropped to your thighs again—strong, commanding—and lifted you off his lap like you weighed nothing. He set you down onto the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of you like you were royalty.

“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he said softly, kissing the inside of your knee. “Let me see what I bought.”

You opened your thighs slowly, revealing the tiny black thong barely covering the slick heat between your legs. The fabric clung to your folds, soaked through.

Seonghwa's breath caught. He ran his hands up your thighs, thumbs brushing just beside where you needed him most.

“So wet already?” he murmured, lips hovering just above your skin. “And I haven’t even touched you properly.”

“You think I give this to just anyone?” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair.

He smiled against your thigh. “I know I’m lucky, sweetheart. I’ll make it count.”

Then he kissed your pussy over the fabric—slow, deliberate. His tongue pressed against the wet spot, groaning at the taste through the lace before finally, finally, pulling your thong aside.

And he paused.

“Goddamn,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

Then he dove in.

His tongue licked a broad, slow stripe up your slit, collecting your arousal and moaning low like he couldn’t help himself. His mouth wrapped around your clit, sucking gently, then hard enough to make your back arch.

His hands held your thighs open, strong and steady as he feasted on you. Tongue flicking, lips kissing, moaning like he was addicted after just one taste.

“You taste like heaven,” he growled between licks. “I could spend hours right here.”

You gasped, hips bucking against his face, one hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “Don’t stop—fuck—Seonghwa—”

“I’m not stopping ‘til you cum on my tongue, baby,” he said, voice thick and low. “Wanna feel this sweet pussy pulse for me. You gonna do that, hm? Gonna give me that cream, sweetheart?”

Your thighs trembled, pleasure winding tight in your gut.

And he didn’t let up—not even once.

Your orgasm hit like a wave, legs trembling around his head, fingers tugging his hair as you moaned out his name like it was a prayer and a curse all at once. Seonghwa didn’t stop—not until he felt every little twitch of your pussy, not until your hips stopped shaking and your chest rose and fell in a dizzy rhythm.

He pulled back, mouth and chin wet with your slick. He looked up at you with dark, fucked-out eyes and a smirk that told you he’d only just started.

“You cum like you were made for me,” he murmured, kissing your thigh one last time before standing. “Now I need to feel you around me.”

You watched, breathless, as he undid his belt, slow and smooth, eyes locked on yours. His cock sprang free—thick, long, and leaking. Veins ran up the shaft, tip flushed and angry. He wrapped a hand around it, stroking lazily, letting you see what was about to be inside you.

He climbed on the bed, grabbing your thighs and pulling you to the edge. “Gonna stretch this pussy real slow,” he growled. “Want you to feel every inch.”

You moaned as he slid the tip through your folds, gathering your slick before pressing in—slow, steady, thick. The stretch made your toes curl, your breath catch, your nails sink into the sheets.

“Fuuuck,” he hissed as he sank deeper. “So tight—gripping me like you don’t wanna let go.”

You whimpered, legs wrapping around his waist. “So big… feels so fucking good, Seonghwa—”

He leaned in, kissing you deep as he bottomed out, pelvis flush to yours. His cock filled you to the hilt, and he didn’t pull out right away—he stayed there, savoring the warmth, the wet, the fit.

Then he started to move.

Slow thrusts at first, grinding deep, hips rolling as his cock hit every sensitive spot. His hand reached up to cup your tit again, fingers pinching your nipple while he fucked you with steady, deep strokes.

“You were made for this,” he whispered, kissing along your jaw. “Made to be spoiled, filled, fucked stupid.”

You moaned loud, body rocking into his rhythm.

Then he flipped you over.

Your face pressed into the sheets as he pulled your ass up, hands gripping your waist so tight you knew he’d leave bruises. He shoved back in from behind, burying his cock deep with one hard thrust that made you cry out.

“Oh my god—”

“You like it like this?” he growled, slamming into you again. “Like being bent over and taken like a good little slut?”

You nodded frantically, drool pooling on the sheets from how hard he was fucking you. His hands slid up your back, grabbing your hair and pulling your head up.

“Say it,” he demanded in your ear. “Say you’re my fucktoy.”

“I’m your fucktoy,” you gasped. “Use me, daddy—please—”

That broke him.

He pounded into you mercilessly, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in the room. His balls slapped your clit with every thrust, and your pussy squelched with every movement, already messy and overstimulated.

Then he pulled out again, flipped you once more, and dragged you onto his lap.

“Ride me,” he panted. “Show me how that perfect body works.”

You didn’t hesitate. You sank down on his cock, both of you moaning in unison. You started to bounce, tits jiggling, hands on his shoulders as you rode him like you owned him. He looked up at you like you were a goddess—sweaty, flushed, filthy.

“Fuck, baby—just like that,” he groaned. “You look unreal. Gonna cum just watching you.”

You leaned down to kiss him, whispering against his lips, “Then give it to me. Fill me up.”

His thrusts grew harder, sloppier—his rhythm breaking as his cock throbbed inside you. You clenched down around him, soaking him in wet heat, your breath shuddering as your second orgasm built fast and furious.

“Cum with me,” you gasped, hips grinding into him. “Fill me, daddy—fuck—fill this pussy up.”

That was all it took.

Seonghwa’s head dropped to your shoulder, a strangled growl tearing from his throat as he slammed in deep and stilled. You felt it—every pulse of his cock, every thick rope of cum shooting into your already sensitive pussy. You whimpered at the warmth, at how much there was, his cock still twitching inside you like it couldn’t stop.

He stayed there, breathing hard against your neck, his big hands stroking your back in contrast to the brutal fuck he just gave you. But even in the aftermath, his cock stayed hard inside you—hot, wet, needy.

“You’re dripping already,” he whispered against your skin, fingers sliding between your thighs to feel the mess leaking out. “Can’t have that, baby.”

You moaned softly, shivering as he pushed two fingers into your cum-filled pussy, swirling it around, pushing his release back in. “Fuck, Seonghwa—”

“You take me so well,” he said, pulling his fingers out, watching the creamy mix stretch between them. “But I’m not done.”

You barely had time to breathe before he hauled you up—strong hands gripping your waist, turning you around and walking you backwards.

The floor-to-ceiling window pressed cold against your back.

The city lights sprawled behind you, glittering like diamonds, and here you were—half-naked, body still twitching from orgasm, legs sticky with his cum.

Seonghwa kissed you, filthy and rough, as he lifted one of your legs around his hip. His cock, still slick and hard, found your entrance again with no resistance.

And he slid back in—all the way.

You gasped—overstimulated, messy, but needing him again more than anything.

“You’re already so fucking full,” he groaned, watching his cock disappear into your swollen, cum-dripping hole. “But this greedy pussy still wants more.”

You nodded, eyes glassy, lips parted. “I want all of it, Seonghwa—use me.”

His hand gripped your throat gently, thumb stroking your jaw as he started thrusting again, this time harder. Faster.

You were pinned between him and the glass—hands smudging the cold surface, your breath fogging up the view of the city as he fucked you like an animal.

“Look at you,” he whispered, voice low and full of awe. “Getting fucked against a window, dripping with my cum, letting me stuff you again like you’re mine.”

You moaned, louder than before, uncaring if anyone below saw.

“Say it,” he demanded. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you cried. “Yours, daddy—fuck—just keep going—”

His grip tightened on your waist as he drilled into you, cock slamming into that same sweet spot again and again until you were a trembling, wrecked mess, legs barely holding on.

And then—he stopped suddenly.

Pulled out. Turned you around.

Pressed your tits to the glass and shoved back in from behind.

One hand in your hair, one on your hip, pounding into you like a man possessed.

“You wanted it messy?” he growled in your ear. “You got it.”

Your legs were shaking when he finally pulled out—cum dripping down your thighs, your cheek pressed to the cool glass, breath fogging it up in desperate gasps. Your body was wrecked, used, marked. But Seonghwa wasn’t done. Not even close.

He leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “You’re not getting any sleep tonight, princess.”

You whined softly, trying to steady yourself as he turned you around, catching your waist when you almost collapsed.

“I got you,” he said, kissing your temple gently. “Come here.”

He scooped you into his arms effortlessly—big, warm hands under your thighs, your body melting against his chest. He carried you into the bathroom like you were fragile, like you weren’t dripping with his cum and begging for more just seconds ago.

The bathroom was dim, the lights soft and golden, steam already curling around the edges of the large sunken tub. He turned the taps, warm water cascading in, then gently set you on the edge.

“You deserve to be pampered,” he said as he knelt beside the tub, grabbing oils and soaps. “But I want you to ride me one more time while we soak. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Your breath hitched as he ran his hands up your thighs again, spreading them, leaning in to kiss between them—slow this time, reverent.

“For me?” he murmured against your skin.

“Yes,” you whispered. “Again. Fuck, Seonghwa… I need it.”

He stepped in first, sitting back in the steaming water, legs spread, cock already rising again—thick, glistening, flushed with need. You followed, easing in, the heat of the water wrapping around your sensitive body like a blanket.

Seonghwa pulled you into his lap the second you were in. His hands guided your hips, your knees resting on either side of him, your ass floating just above his thighs. His cock rubbed against your slit—soaked, hard, aching to be back inside.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he said, guiding himself to your entrance. “So full of me still.”

You moaned as he slid in again—slow, this time. No rush. Just that deep, stretching push that made you feel every inch of him. The water rippled around you, soft sloshes filling the room as you sank down onto his cock, letting him stretch you all over again.

“That’s it,” he whispered, hands roaming your back, your ass, your thighs. “Take it all, princess. Fuck—you feel even tighter now.”

You started to move, hips rocking gently, the heat of the water making everything feel softer, but no less filthy. The sounds were obscene—slick, wet, thick. Your tits bounced just above the water as you rode him, slow and sensual, his cock hitting that perfect spot over and over again.

His hands gripped your ass, helping guide your rhythm, watching the way your body moved for him like it belonged to him.

“Look at you,” he breathed, eyes fixed on yours. “So perfect. My beautiful, expensive little goddess.”

You leaned in to kiss him—soft, deep, lazy—and whispered against his lips, “You gonna cum in me again, daddy?”

He groaned, hips bucking up into you harder. “Fuck yes, I am. Gonna pump you so full you won’t forget who owns this pussy.”

You moaned, riding him harder now, the warm water splashing over the edge of the tub. “Then do it. Fill me again. Want your cum dripping out of me when I leave.”

His eyes darkened. “You think I’m letting you leave?”

You gasped.

“I’m keeping you, baby,” he said. “This pussy’s mine now.”

And he came again—deep, thick, hot—while you clenched around him, moaning as your final orgasm shuddered through you, water swirling, bodies locked, hearts racing.

The water had gone warm, your thighs draped over his, his cock still resting inside you even as his cum leaked out around it, mixing into the water. You were pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around you like he could fuse you to him if he just held tight enough.

He stroked your back slowly. Gentle. Reverent. Like you were something fragile—despite the bruises he’d left on your hips, the fingerprints burned into your skin, the soreness blooming between your legs.

“I could stay like this forever,” he murmured, lips pressed to your wet shoulder. “Just like this. With you.”

You didn’t answer at first. Just let his fingers trace lazy lines on your skin while your head rested against his neck. His heartbeat was loud, steady, right beneath your cheek.

But you knew better than to fall into this moment.

You lifted your head slightly, eyes meeting his. “You can’t.”

He blinked. “What?”

“This was a booking,” you said softly. Not cold, but firm. “You don’t get forever.”

Seonghwa’s jaw tensed, just for a second. “You think I care about that?”

“You should,” you said, sliding off his lap, his cock slipping out with a sinful wet sound. “Because I do.”

He watched you, wordless, as you stood—cum dripping down your thighs into the bathwater. You were a vision. Ruined. Divine. Untouchable.

You grabbed a towel and started drying off, unbothered by his gaze, by the hunger still burning in his eyes. He looked like a man starving for something he could never taste again.

“You’re beautiful,” he said suddenly. “Perfect.”

You smiled a little. “I know.”

That only made him groan, running a hand through his wet hair, looking completely wrecked. “Let me see you again.”

You turned toward him, completely bare, toweling your hair like this wasn’t the most intimate moment he’d ever lived through.

“I don’t do repeats,” you said, voice soft but sure. “Every man gets one night. The highest bid. The best offer.”

“But I—”

“You paid, Seonghwa.”

That silenced him.

You stepped closer, leaned in, your lips brushing against his cheek—not his mouth. Never again. Just a whisper of warmth, one last indulgence.

“You were worth it,” you said. “But I don’t belong to anyone.”

You straightened up, wrapped the towel around your waist, and walked out of the bathroom like you owned the fucking world.

And you did.

Because you weren’t just a girl he fucked.

You were the one he’d never forget.

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pyeongstarr · 5 months ago

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⋆｡‧˚ʚ M A R T I' S M A S T E R L I S T ɞ˚‧｡⋆

smut — 🍒 | fluff — 🧸 | angst — 🥀 | author fave — ✨️

˚ʚ ⌞ P A R K S E O N G H W A ⌝ ɞ˚

⋆ Nothing's Free [1, 2, 3] [🍒, ✨️]

˚ʚ ⌞ K I M H O N G J O O N G ⌝ ɞ˚

⋆ 01:13 [🍒]

˚ʚ ⌞ J E O N G Y U N H O ⌝ ɞ˚

⋆

˚ʚ ⌞ K A N G Y E O S A N G ⌝ ɞ˚

⋆

˚ʚ ⌞ C H O I S A N ⌝ ɞ˚

⋆ Wading In Wait [🥀]

˚ʚ ⌞ S O N G M I N G I ⌝ ɞ˚

⋆

˚ʚ ⌞ J U N G W O O Y O U N G ⌝ ɞ˚

⋆

˚ʚ ⌞ C H O I J O N G H O ⌝ ɞ˚

⋆ Jet-Set Homemaker [🍒]

˚ʚ ⌞ P O L Y A M O R O U S ⌝ ɞ˚

⋆

dividers from @cafekitsune & @bambiiis

#ateez masterlist #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #pyeongstarr masterlist ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

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pyeongstarr · 5 months ago

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little woosan x you drabbles

——————————————————————————

a/n ; guess who’s back ;)

nonidol!au (poly!woosan)

you’ve never been shy about the fact that you’d be good in the porn industry, so of course, wooyoung and san had to get it all set up for you.

after a long meeting with one of san’s friends in the industry, you finally got a date for when you start shooting. although you were easily shy in front of cameras.

“c’mon precious, you’re doing so well.” wooyoung says from out of the cameras view.

tears spill from your eyes, you didn’t expect them to be so.. okay with you taking another man’s cock down your throat. but all wooyoung and san saw dollar signs, not too worried about their precious girl taking another man.

the sinful moans, the looks of absolute desperation.

you were golden.

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pyeongstarr · 5 months ago

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you can't just post stuff like this and expect me to be fine...

Stalker San

pairing: stalker!san x f reader

wc: 281

warnings: smut, MDNI, drabble, voyeurism, stalking, masturbation, it's non consensual and obvi kinda dark (pls don't read if this isn't your thing <3)

a/n: first time I saw this pic this idea immediately popped into my head. feeling positively awful and wishing I had a real reason for it, tbh idk what this is I'm just in a weird mood tonight

**********************

stalker!san who buys an apartment in the building next to yours, on the same floor, so he has a perfect view

stalker!san who watches you undress every morning, and every night, jacking off behind the curtains of his huge window

stalker!san who's been watching you for months, who knows your every routine, every pattern

stalker!san who gets a job in your building, so he'll have the master key

stalker!san who visits your apartment every day that you work, taking dirty panties from your hamper for himself

stalker!san who cums in your already dirty panties, throwing them out in post-orgasmic regret

stalker!san who buys you brand new panties, leaving you an anonymous gift on your bed

stalker!san who watches in delight at your shock and confusion

stalker!san who buys his time, never wanting to push his limits. he likes this arrangement too much to scare you off, never showing his face to you, never leaving any other trace of himself

stalker!san who starts jacking off in your apartment, not able to stop himself. your smell, your bed, your clothes, it all makes him rock fucking hard

stalker!san who's waited a full year, not letting himself be seen or heard or found out. finally he steps out onto his balcony, and faces you. in the dark night he is backlit by the light from his apartment, but you see his is looking at you, and you look back, smiling

stalker!san who smiles back, even though you can't see it

stalker!san who let's you live with your impending sense of disturbance, never knowing why your room always feels tampered with

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pyeongstarr · 5 months ago

Note

mind you this is my first impression of you...

this is was too good i fear. 🫠

My thoughts on how they treat atiny as littles is seonghwa is a caregiver, but he coos a lot at atiny, he babies atiny how one would if they were with a little. Hongjoong? Just is simply a gentle parent for atiny, but he also wants us to have that bf feel of him, if that makes sense. And yunho? That mf is just he looks out for atiny like a father would, but also still wants to be our boyfriend in a way. I can’t explain it in words, but they all coo and baby atiny, and San calls any woman princess. He won’t call anyone ‘noona’ or whatever the fuck its called. Its always princess, especially younger women. And with San always gloating about wanting a daughter, it kinda fits in a way. But San is more of a sir than a daddy. Seonghwa is a daddy, although he may not exactly be into age play or anything like that, but he’s definitely into treating his partner as if they’re a child, in a wholesome way. Same with Hongjoong, completely wholesome. But yunho? That man will get dirty with it, but also be on the wholesale side as well. Like outside of sex, they’d treat their partner as if they’re children (cooing, coddling, ect) but for the sex part, i don’t think they’d fully be into that. But yunho does have a darker side than any of the other members.

I should be ashamed for how fucked up this fic is- but I am not.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 (𝐀 𝐇𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐀𝐔)

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x sub!fem reader

Word Count: 1.3K

Content Warnings: DUB-CON , Caregiver kink, Soft regression, Psychological manipulation, MDNI 18+, unprotected sex, body worship, oral sex (fem receiving), size kink, praise, possessive!yunho, dacryphilia, aftercare

🖤 This is a dark fic. Though the dynamics are soft, it does explore emotional submission, control through care, and healing through obsession. Please consume responsibly.

If you continue to read, you have heeded my warnings and I am not responsible for your well-being.

Also, it's not essential to read Chapter 1- Hunted but I'd recommend it for a more immersive experience.

It had been ninety days since Yunho claimed you. And ninety days since you’d truly smiled.

You weren’t locked in. Not really. The windows were clear. The front door was untouched. But you didn’t leave.

You couldn’t.

Because Yunho didn’t trap you with chains, he wrapped you in care. Fed you. Brushed your hair. Warmed your bath. Held you through your nightmares.

And when you were good, when you ate every bite, when you let him rub lotion into your thighs, when you said thank you and curled into a fragile ball against him.

He kissed you so sweet it made your eyes burn.

But you weren’t yourself.

He noticed it in the way you blinked slower. Walked softer. How your laugh, the one he’d stalked for months, was nowhere to be found.

Yunho wasn’t angry. He was devastated.

You sat curled up in the hoodie he’d given you—his favourite one, the black one that smelled like musk and safety—staring blankly at the wall.

He came in quietly, tray in hand.

Cut-up fruit. A soft spoon. A warm mug of tea. Little strawberries carved into heart shapes. You hadn’t asked for them. You didn’t have to.

"My good girl hasn’t eaten today," he said softly, kneeling at your feet.

You didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at him.

Yunho’s hand curled around your ankle. Gentle. Grounding.

"Baby…" he murmured, his voice thick. “You haven’t smiled in days.”

Your eyes burned, but you stayed silent.

Yunho set the tray aside, then cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs stroking beneath your eyes.

Those giant hands of his, the ones that showed you praise, could be so soft, so attentive.

The same ones that could grip, tighten and bend you to whatever will Yunho demanded from you.

“Where did you go, princess?” he whispered, the pressure of his hands gripping the sides of your face, onyx eyes filled with an authoritative concern.

“You’re right here, but you’re not here.”

You trembled.

"I’ll bring you back," he said, voice breaking. “I’ll brush your hair, feed you with my hands, hold you every night. I’ll kiss and fuck you a thousand times until your soul remembers how to breathe again.”

He kissed your forehead. Your cheek. Your jaw. Then he stood, picking you up bridal style- not even a hitch of breath or a hair out of place.

“Come on, baby. Let me bring you back to life”

He sat you on the edge of the bed and undressed you slowly.

Not like a man tearing into a lover—but like a caretaker unwrapping something delicate. Something breakable.

"Lift your arms for me," he said softly. You obeyed. Hoodie off.

Your skin is prickled with cold. But he was already there—kneeling again, wiping you down with a warm towel, rubbing rose oil into your thighs, down your calves, across your belly.

"You’re so soft," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your knee. “So perfect. You don’t need to hide.”

When you whimpered, he smiled gently. “That’s it. That’s the sound I’ve missed.”

"Your body remembers me," he whispered. "Even when your mind tries to hide."

And then he leaned in.

He kissed your inner thigh—once, twice. A third kiss closer to your core, letting his breath fan over your pussy like a prayer.

Your legs instinctively parted.

"That’s it," he whispered. “Good girl.”

He knelt between your legs, settled there like a man who belonged. One arm curled under your thigh, the other wrapped around your hip—anchoring you. His tongue flicked out once, tasting the slick gathering between your folds.

Yunho moaned.

Like it hurt to go without you for this long.

"God, baby..." he breathed, mouth pressing open kisses to your cunt. “You taste like relief. Like everything I’ve been aching for.”

He sucked your clit between his lips slowly—like he wasn’t just worshipping it, but claiming it. The tip of his tongue teased circles, then firm strokes, then messy, hungry licks that made your breath catch in your throat.

You grabbed the sheets behind you. He noticed.

"That’s it. Grip the bed for me," he rasped. “Let me feel how much you missed this.”

His tongue fucked into you like a promise. Like a rebuild. Your thighs trembled against his shoulders as his fingers joined in—two thick digits pressing in slowly, curling upward like he knew exactly where to touch you to break the silence in your soul.

“You’re opening up so well,” he groaned, mouth slick with you. “So fucking perfect. Let me get you ready—want you warm and messy when I fuck you raw.”

Your head tipped back. You moaned—finally.

And Yunho smiled against your cunt.

He kept licking until you were crying again, hands tangled in his hair, hips rolling against his face like your body had reawakened. He didn’t let up until you came with a sob, thighs clenching around his head, cunt pulsing on his fingers.

He didn’t stop.

He wanted you soaked. He needed you needy.

And when he finally pulled away, your inner thighs glistened, your chest was heaving, and Yunho was breathing heavy—feral, but composed.

Later, he manoeuvred you so you were face down, chest to the mattress, your arms tucked beneath a pillow, your body bare and waiting.

He was behind you, lying on top of you, warm, naked and in a prone position, his thick cock resting against your skin- firm, hard, wanting.

And in his hand?

Your journal.

The one he’d found. The one you used to write in when you still laughed.

He started to read.

“Today I danced barefoot in the kitchen while Yunho made aburasoba. He laughed and called me pretty…”

Your breath caught.

“…and I believed it.”

A tear slipped down your cheek. Yunho saw it.

He pushed your hips up slightly, reached between your thighs and stroked your clit softly, lovingly.

"You are pretty," he whispered. "Even when you cry. Even when you’re lost."

He pulled his hand away, bracing over you on his arms, knees bent on the mattress, placing kisses on your spine as he lines his cock up behind you, dragging the thick head through your folds—soaking wet from nothing but his voice and his care.

“You wrote, ‘I want to be the girl he thinks I am.’”

He pushed in slowly—inch by inch, until you were gasping into the sheets.

"You are," he growled, beginning to thrust. “You just need me to fuck the numbness out of you. Stroke by stroke. Praise by praise.”

Each thrust was deep, unhurried, designed to rewire your brain.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered. “Letting me love you like this. Taking every inch. Letting me fill you so you don’t have to feel empty anymore.”

He dropped the journal out of his grasp, running his free hand through your hair, down your shoulders, your waist and hips before sliding it under your body, finding your clit, rubbing it in slow but firm circles.

"You're my sweet princess, aren't you?" "Yes, Yunho," you choked. "And you know you belong here, don’t you?" "Yes" "And you know I would burn the world before I let you fade again."

You shattered around him, sobbing into the pillow as your body trembled and your cunt fluttered around his cock.

He didn’t stop.

Not until you moaned again. Not until your voice cracked saying thank you. Not until your hands gripped the sheets like you were clawing your way back into yourself.

When he came, he did it with your name on his lips and your body clutched to his chest like scripture.

He'd allow himself a few moments to lie over you, his hands rubbing your sides, petting your hair, whispering words of sweet praise before getting up, cleaning the sweat and his cum off of you with careful precision before lying in bed again, his briefs the only barrier between you two.

"You don’t have to be her again all at once," he murmured. “But I will help you. I’ll feed you, fuck you, love you… until the light comes back.”

You fell asleep with your cheek against his chest.

He held you like a child. And smiled, because you’d whimpered in your sleep— a tiny, happy sound.

The first one in ninety days.

I could honestly just every month write another warped piece of dark fic to add to the Haunting Adeline AU series.

Hold on to April where I will be posting 2 Hyunjin related works.

Taglist: @scuzmunkie @marievllr-abg @umbralhelwolf @starsareseen @lino-jagiyaa @mischiefsmind @mrcarrots @junieshohoho @partywithgyu @whatsk-poppinhomies @craxy-person @hologramhoneymoon @gyuhanniescarat @staytinyinmybpack @necessiteez @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @berryberrytan @laylasbunbunny @bangchanbabygirlx @i-love-ateez @anyamaris @krishastumblernow @hexheathen @michel-angelhoe @northerngalxy @youre-alittle-taste-of-hell @honeyhotteoks @starillusion13 @justaaveragereader @jus2passtime @shroomoth @marykpoppins @leomggg @daddysspecialdollyworld @mykryptonitelight @wisejudgedragonhairdo @sanakimohara @chansfavouritetoy @lyramundana

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pyeongstarr · 5 months ago

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& i'll be there. 🫣

Upcoming Project

I know I have been away because of school and it will happen again soon for my bachelor's but while I was away (hopefully I can still do some of these while in school). I did, however, list some of my upcoming projects. They are not in order

Make you mine: Mafia leader Seungcheol x reader: the winner of the poll. That is currently being written

400 followers Celebration:. That is being written

Slytherin Woozi and maybe Gryffindor afab! Reader

Seungcheol x Single Mom! Reader x Mingyu: This was a thought and I said, Why not?

Ex-Agent Seungcheol x Princess Soon-to-be-Queen Reader

Fashion Designer! Hongjoon x Fashion Journalist Reader

Best friend Mingyu x Reader: another idea

More to come… Hopefully. Thanks for being patient

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pyeongstarr · 5 months ago

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just friends (5) - stuck in the middle

pairing: san x f reader

genre: smut, angst, a bit of fluff

word count: 14.2k

summary: could you really call this a friendship anymore? what was it really, when you spent nights curled up in the sheets with him, days fighting till your blood ran cold? this was more than anything you'd had with anyone; but what it was, you didn't know. you'd fight to keep it alive, for it held you together; but how much more of this could San take before he breaks?

warnings: MDNI, smut, edging, vibrator use, unprotected sex, getting into dom/sub dynamics a bit, more fighting

a/n: just wanted to let you all know that it'll be a while until the next update of this series. I am going to focus for the next while on another writing project (a book) that is really important to me. but I promise I will pick this series up later this year. I don't know when yet, but I am so obsessed with these characters that I know it won't be too long. I am determined to give them a satisfying end to their story. I hope you all enjoy this part <3

<- previous part | next part -> | series masterlist | read it on ao3

10 Months Ago

"Hey, what's wrong?" Tina asked as soon as you walked in, hair wet from her shower, her sweats and t-shirt hanging loose from her frame.

"I'm freaking out girl, ugh, my fucking anxiety," you groaned, running your hands over your face and hair.

"You still panicked about what San said yesterday?" she asked you, standing up to come give you a hug, pulling you onto the couch to sit with her.

"I guess, I- I don't know, something's wrong with my fucking brain," you sighed, then sneezed hard, cringing at the pain radiating through your sinuses.

"Your allergies can't be helping," she said, grabbing a tissue from the side table and handing it to you. "And we probably have a shit ton of dust in here too," she laughed.

"It's okay, they're this bad at my place too, it's just how they are right now," you replied.

"Have you made an appointment with that allergist?" she asked.

"No, I keep forgetting to call before they close. Their office closes at four, it's so early," you sighed, looking over to her. She nodded in agreement, knowing how your late schedules often made scheduling appointments hard; most of the rest of the world operated on a different timeline for you, and while generally it was a positive thing, the quietness of the late night a comfort, there were certain ways it made your life unquestionably harder.

"It's 3:30 right now, let me call," she said, pulling up her phone and searching for the name Maya's coworker had given her two days before.

"Titi you don't have to," you sighed, looking at her with upturned eyebrows.

"Just let me, it'll be easy. That way we don't forget," she said with finality, making the call.

You sat still as she rattled off every bit of information about you from memory; your birthday, the complicated spelling of your last name, even your insurance ID. Four years of knowing her and she'd learned everything there was to know about you; when you'd first met, people always suspected that you liked each other, but it had never been like that, no matter how much it could have been. Your relationship with her was better than any romance; no drama, no questioning, no confusion. Somehow everything was always smooth sailing, somehow your disagreements or miscommunications never turned into a fight; it baffled you still that you'd managed to create this friendship with her, when almost all the other relationships in your life felt on the constant brink of cracking.

At least you could be a good friend to someone. Someone who was good and kind in all the ways that mattered, someone who cared for you back and helped you when you needed it. As you stared at her face from the side you played over the conversation you two had the day before. You'd made almost no sense, you were sure, yet she picked through all your rambling and found the truth; you didn't want San's romantic affection, didn't want your thing with him to be anything but physical. It was pure and simple, that was all there was to it. And maybe just maybe, such an intimate night with him had crossed over your line.

"Are you sure I'm not an asshole for not dating him officially?" you asked her again some minutes later.

"Dude, seriously, you're not. You told me you guys have talked about it, not just once but multiple times, and he's agreed that this is the arrangement he wants. If he doesn't want it he has to say something. And I think he would say something, you know? He doesn't strike me as the type to be so insecure that he wouldn't," she replied.

"I know, I just-" you sighed, shaking your head. "Friends with benefits situations are never really healthy though, are they? I mean like very, very rarely do they actually work. They're always toxic."

"Just cause most people don't communicate their feelings affectively doesn't mean that all casual relationships are unhealthy. If both people involved are happy with it, then that's all that matters. That's all that matters for any relationship really," she answered you.

"That's true," you said, turning back to her.

"You've stayed over once in the two months you've been seeing him. It's nothing to panic about," she reassured you, a hand on your knee.

"What if he's secretly hating this whole thing between us?" you asked, your eyes on hers.

"Then he'd be stupid, cause even getting an ounce of your attention should make anyone's life," she responded, smiling.

"Shut up, oh my god," you rolled your eyes, but a smile crept onto your face as you chuckled.

"Listen, I'm not in your relationship, maybe it isn't the healthiest, maybe he's hating it, who knows? I'm always gonna be on your side though, even if you're not making the best choices. Like- I just can't not be, you know?"

"Yeah, that's how I feel about you too," you said, smiling.

"You were the only one that was excited about me moving in with Maya," she laughed, and you laughed too, grabbing onto her hand.

"You just knew it would work, you just had a feeling. I trusted that," you said, looking at her fondly.

"And I trust you with this thing, no matter what anybody else would say, cause I know you always figure it out in the end. Even if there's some confusion along the way. You always find what's right, always. I know you'll do what's right with San, too," she said, her eyes soft, reflecting back the hope and worry in your own.

You certainly longed for her words to be true; unending support and faith, it was what you wished anyone else in your life had for you the way she did, especially your family. But with San, was she really right? Her confidence felt too good to question, so you pushed your worried thoughts aside as best as you could.

"Any word on the manuscript yet?" she asked.

You shook your head, sighing as you chuckled in frustration, the day floating away as every feeling swirled within you, a cocktail too complicated for you to understand.

6 Months Ago

"Wait, isn't that the super fancy fondue place in Uptown?" Tina asked from beside you, a lash in hand as she gently applied glue to it. The room was bustling with activity, as several wide-eyed newbies dressed and painted their faces in panic, clearly not yet used to the pace of night life work. The three of them looked eighteen at most, but you couldn't be sure; thankfully Sasha and Bibi had taken them under their wings, as the three were drag performers too. It seemed your boss was trying to corner a new market, and you weren't at all mad; it was as interesting to you to see the new performances as it was to the customers, and you couldn't wait to sneak out later and catch a glimpse of the new numbers on the night's schedule.

"Yeah I think so, I've heard it's expensive as hell," you laughed, desperately trying to pin a curl in place.

"Yeah like more than a hundred dollars a person, right?" Tina asked.

"Wait really?"

"Yeah girl, it's like a hundred and fifty a person I'm pretty sure, and who knows if you buy wine or anything else how expensive that gets," she replied, leaning forward and squinting her eye in preparation for placing the lash.

"Titi, geez," you gaped at her, giving up on the curl momentarily.

"Good for you, sounds like you got yourself a sugar daddy, basically," she laughed, pulling back from the mirror to asses the placement of the lash.

"Ugh no, don't say that," you cringed, looking back to the mirror and taking yourself in, the version of you with a full face of makeup and an absurd outfit, the girl who looked absolutely nothing like you.

"Why not, it's like the dream, right?" she joked.

"I- I guess so, I just-" Staring at yourself in the mirror, you sighed deeply. "I don't know why it's making me freak the fuck out, I was feeling better the last few weeks, fuck I'm so annoyed," you sighed, wanting desperately to put your head in your hands but knowing you'd fuck up the heavy face of makeup you'd just spent nearly an hour applying.

"It feels too relationship-y, doesn't it?" she asked, turning to face you.

"Everyone else there is gonna be on dates, no doubt," you sighed, hands behind your head.

"Girl, fuck 'em. Like seriously, what does it matter what other people might think? Y'all have figured it out, you have this dynamic that works for you. He's offering to pay for a one hundred and fifty dollar meal. Don't turn that down," she said.

"I wish I could take you with me," you laughed, sighing. "Also it's not his money, the meal is gonna be comped cause his boss knows the guy who owns the place."

"Fucking finance bros," Tina laughed.

"Tech, Ti, he's in tech," you chuckled.

"Same difference, anyway, whatever the method of payment is, don't you dare give up the chance to go eat there. Relish it, go fucking crazy, get the best bottle of wine that they have! We will spend the whole day doing your hair and makeup and buy you a perfect dress and oh god! You're gonna look so fucking good-"

"Titi calm down, please," you joked, cutting her off and holding your hands over her mouth playfully. Her antics were catching the attention of the rest of the room, and you felt a twinge of embarrassment hit you as the three new hires looked directly your way; thankfully it was only Sasha that flounced over to you, with a playful smile on her face.

"What are you two so excited about?" she joked, you both shaking your heads and apologizing for the commotion. "Well I'm happy to see it, I haven't seen you two like this in months," she said, finally sitting herself down at her station beside you.

"We finally got over our spring depressions," you chuckled, once again grabbing the pesky piece of hair giving you trouble and rolling it into the perfect circle to place at your temple.

"Spring depressions? What was so bad about this spring?" she asked, pulling out her giant makeup bag, cracking it open with a satisfying click.

"Oh you know, my play got literally zero traction, not a single fucking person was interested in putting in on," you sighed, finally pinning the hair in place with a satisfied grunt.

"Hey that play was amazing, no matter the amount of commercial interest it got," Tina responded, working on her second lash.

"I know but, I want to be successful, I wrote it the way I thought people would- fuck, I'm so over talking and thinking about it, it is what it is, but it- it was so discouraging, it did worse than my last play, and that one I put barely any effort into," you sighed.

"Miss thing, you can't let the success or failures of your writing dictate how you feel about life. You know how this industry is, it doesn't matter how talented you are, sometimes the money or interest just doesn't materialize. Don't let it get you so down. We all know you're a brilliant writer," Sasha said, rifling through her massive pile of lipsticks, the sounds of last minute costume changes and choreography checks filling the air. All he sounds around you reminded you of your first day here, the chaos you were in; a sudden wave of emotion hit you, nostalgia and longing and regret all swirling together, and you tried to swallow it all down.

"Sash that's very sweet, but what if I told you I've become a sex addict to cope?" you deadpanned, looking at her with pouted lips.

"Oh darling, we've all been there," she sighed, and the three of you burst into giggles, the conversation veering off in another direction, your sudden ridiculous comment making everyone forget the serious conversation from moments ago.

It had been demoralizing, the weeks passing by with no good news from your agent. She'd tried all she could, she promised you; you knew she was telling the truth, knew she was on your side and fighting the good fight. But you couldn't help feeling completely demotivated; not a single complete paragraph had fallen from your fingers in the three months since you'd finished it, and only now, the last week or so, had you started to write again. Thanks to Tina and her brilliant and adorable idea for a musical, your creative gears were spinning in just the way you needed. But those terribly halting months had been more crushing than you'd expected, more severe than you'd be willing to admit to anyone; you'd used your nights with San and nights with your vibrator to get through. And it all had started to feel a bit absurd; you weren't sure what the hell you were doing, and weren't sure what the fuck you could do to stop yourself.

The winter was always hard for Tina, with her depressions, but this spring because of your state, her winter blues had extended longer than they usually did. There'd been one almost fight, one tough conversation; she realized what was happening, understood herself well enough to know that being around your ever sadder disposition was making her feel worse and worse, too. She'd put her foot down; there was a week spent apart, and a request that you didn't continue to complain for the thousandth time to her about how much you hated the world for not understanding your art, and not wanting it.

You were starting to sound a bit full of yourself, and she called you on it; much needed, for sure, but it stung in a way that only those words coming from her mouth would sting, embarrassment coating your hurt. It made you snap out of it, almost immediately; the next day you already felt different, already knew that this was just the way of the world, the way of the life you chose. You'd have to get used to this kind of rejection if you were going to make it in a creative life; art was subjective, there was never going to be a sure fire way to make something that everyone loved. You were only twenty-two, had plenty of time to get your writing career off the ground; and only a few weeks later, as if the universe knew you needed a little pick-me-up, Tina jokingly rattled off a fantastic idea for a musical that you wished beyond words you'd come up with yourself.

Life started to feel stable again; even with San things felt stable, and though you now spent nights over several times a month, you'd still managed to hold the line mostly, no feelings getting involved. You enjoyed his presence in the way you did a good friend; you appreciated his shared interest in musicals, which now that you were writing one, felt especially fun. He loved the idea as much as you did, and encouraged you time and time again when you spewed on about it; it was he who helped you pare down the number of songs you wanted, getting to the crux of the scenes in need of that particular type of development, and you couldn't have been more thankful that day for his help.

Not that you said that to him. In no way did him knowing how much he helped you out of a creative rough spot seem like a good idea.

The stability had lulled you into a sense that things would never change with him; you'd found a perfect balance it seemed, and having him there to help you cope with a frustrating few months had made the whole arrangement seem even more perfect. You had helped him too, you learned; it wasn't until he transferred to his new company that he told you, but you noticed the change in him immediately. His shoulders were less tense, he was more open with his words; he finally escaped that old company and he'd thanked you in the dead of night for being there during that time, keeping him from going completely insane.

When he asked you to accompany him to the Melting Pot, you were sure he was joking. Only once had you heard someone mention the restaurant; it was a girl you and Tina peripherally knew in college, one who came from boarding school and Hamptons vacations and perfect designer bags. It was the kind of place that you knew probably sucked; no way could food be that good, worth that much money. But the girl had described it with such reverence, so enthralled; it sounded like the experience of it was almost like a wondrous show, and in that way it sounded like the perfect escape for rich people in need of more and more excitement, a simple meal not even enough for them to enjoy anymore.

You'd rolled your eyes at him, and he accepted your perspective; eventually, though, he persuaded you, insisting that there was no one else he'd rather take, no one else he'd rather experience the strange place with.

It shouldn't have made your heart flutter so much to hear him say such things.

You'd gone, of course you had, even though you'd had to take a day off work on a Saturday. Everyone, even your boss, had agreed that you'd needed to take some time away; you hadn't called out for nearly three months straight, even though you'd been nursing a depression that should have stolen your attention more. Work was the best distraction, something you always used as medicine when you needed to, but even you could see that maybe a day off wouldn't be so bad, especially now that you were feeling better.

It meant that Tina couldn't help you dress or get ready after all, but that was no worry to you; you had your own fun getting ready at home, pulling out the only dress you owned that would both feel comfortable in the crushing heat and look fancy enough for the ridiculous establishment you were about to enter. San had insisted on coming to pick you up and meet you at your door; a one time thing, he promised it would be, as he knew just how much you seemed to never want his escort. You'd both be headed some twenty minutes away, in a beautiful black car that you didn't know the name of, and it made no sense for you to walk to his place, he'd said. It'd made too much sense to argue with, so you'd let him. Opening the door to his beautiful face was a shock to your system; the cream, dingy walls of your apartment complex were no match for his sharp all-black suit, the muscles of his chest on full display underneath his tight button-up, making you swallow hard. And his eyes snaking up and down your form had you frozen a bit, your tiniest black purse slung over your left elbow.

"This good enough?" you laughed, but it was hollow and sharp, your nerves getting the better of you.

"You look beautiful," he said, his voice low and sultry as he stared deeply into your eyes. Your cheeks heated immediately, your whole body reacting; you couldn't afford the reaction though, not when you wore no bra and your hard nipples would be obvious, and not when you wore no panties and your arousal could so easily slip down your leg.

You were quiet in the back of the car, San's hand on your thigh, your eyes glued to the road outside. You were rarely ever in this part of town, hadn't been in over a year; you forgot just how many shops there were, how wide the boulevards stretched, how tall and bright the Target sign was, it's red light painting the entire sidewalk below. Living downtown you were used to tall buildings, but it was the brightness and perfection of Uptown that always shocked you. How did they keep the streets up here so damn clean?

The hot evening air greeted you as you stepped out, San's hand guiding you from the car and making sure you tugged down the bit of your dress that had ridden up your thigh during the drive. He waved off the driver with a kind smile; you saw him tip the man generously on his phone, before locking it and shoving it in his pocket, holding out his left arm for you to take.

The front of the restaurant was unassuming, an uneven brick wall with simple black doors, an almost gaudy looking witch's pot adorning the awning above. But as soon as he'd opened the door, you were met with wonder; it was dark inside, every surface smooth and shiny, the dark wood of the front desk lacquered and sloped, not a sharp surface in sight. The floor was black with what looked like tiny specks of silver or clear stone, and the walls were all black too, the staff dressed in perfectly pressed outfits, all wearing suits, even the women.

The cool air hit you as soon as you entered; you gripped onto San, a shiver running through you, as you blinked and took in the room around you, the lighting so low it was unclear where the actual seated areas were.

"Choi, reservation for two," San said to the host, the man giving him a quick nod and typing something into the computer in front of him. You'd never heard his last name before, and didn't register it as such; you thought it must be the name of his boss, or his company, or whoever had made this arrangement for him.

"Right this way," the host said, walking around the desk and beckoning you towards him, the vague shape of a hallway materializing as you stepped forward. You shivered harder as you walked, a blast of cool air coming from somewhere in the ceiling.

"You okay?" San whispered down to you, not turning his head.

"I'm freezing," you whispered back, and then his eyes looked down to your bare legs, and he laughed.

"Why'd you wear something that- uh-" he chuckled as he kept his voice down, not wanting anyone to overhear. You were still walking down the hallway, still unable to see where you were headed.

"It's hot as fuck outside!" you whispered yelled, and he turned to you with his mouth agape, holding a hand up to your mouth.

"Don't use that word in here!" he huffed back, but his face was breaking into a smile, finding it all hilarious. "Here, take this," he said, breaking away from you for a second to take off his suit jacket before placing it over your shoulders.

"San, I-"

But as overcome as you were with the moment, suddenly your attention was elsewhere, for you'd entered an area that finally was lit a little more, and the tables and booths around you were nothing but breathtaking. There were few tables set through the huge room, the best seating clearly the tall booths along the back wall that sat up a few feet and offered a sense of privacy. From your angle you could spot a chocolate fondue tower on the right most table; a beautiful set of girls sat gushing over it, strawberries and papaya in hand, the fruit sparkling under the shimmery gold chandeliers that graced the ceiling above every table.

It was the left most booth you were walking towards; as you passed one of the tables, the older woman sitting gave you a not-so-subtle once over, and immediately you swallowed and tore your eyes away, not sure what it was about you that so displeased her. You were walking ahead of San, following the host at a distance you felt was appropriate, and as he made for the very left back corner of the room you were overcome with a feeling of not belonging, the room littered with the kind of people you'd hardly ever been around in your life.

"Steve brought this down himself for you two, it's a Yamazaki Single Malt whiskey from his collection," the host started as you both slid into the cozy booth, presenting a bottle of dark amber liquor, setting it down on the beautiful mahogany table. "He sends his regards, said you two are our guests for the night. So anything you need, you just let me know," he finished, a pleasant smile slapped permanently on his face.

"Thank you so much, I'll have to thank him myself for this," San replied, grabbing the bottle in his hand and inspecting it, rolling it slightly side to side.

"Would you like a glass of that tonight? Or something else to drink?" the host asked.

"I'd love to have some of this, thank you," San nodded at him, then looked over to you, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, uh, I'll try some," you said, suddenly feeling like you couldn't say no, no matter how much you hated whiskey. "Could I have a glass of water, too?"

"Of course, will that be all for drinks?" he asked, that same serene smile still gracing his round face. You both nodded in unison, and in a moment the man was out of sight, lost to the dark hallway from which you'd emerged minutes ago, making not a sound as he walked.

"Guess how much that whiskey costs," San said as he turned to you, scooting closer and throwing an arm around your shoulder, the grin on his face almost cocky. The booth was a small half circle that encased the round table, allowing for as much closeness or distance as two people could want at a meal.

"San, do I look weird in your suit jacket?" you asked though, ignoring his inquiry, still playing over and over the look that woman had given you. He turned his face towards you, already looking confused. "I stuck my arms through like this cause it's more comfortable, but do I look insane?"

"You look beautiful," he said again, placing a soft kiss on your temple, and though it should have completely reassured you, made you calmer, it made you feel almost worse. You pushed him away subtly, looking at him with pathetic eyes.

"Seriously, no other girl in here has a jacket over her dress, they all think I'm being weird, don't they?" you asked.

"Baby no one's looking at you, no one cares, plus you look adorable in my jacket," he said, looking you over.

"It swallows me whole," you pouted.

"Yeah, it's adorable," he repeated, looking at you almost sternly. "Why are you worried about it?"

"I don't belong in here, I feel weird-"

"Of course you belong in here, what do you mean?" he cut you off, seeing your gears turning towards upset, needing to put a stop to it as quickly as he could.

"This place is for rich people, not people like me!" you cried under your breath, looking around at the manners and posture of every other couple, those habits that only upper class breeding could teach a person.

"It's not for rich people, it's not that expensive, not like some exclusive place you need an invite to or anything like that," he responded, eyeing you. "Are you seriously not having a good time?"

"How expensive is that whiskey?" you shot back, and he sighed in a momentary defeat, but didn't move from his position mere inches away. "What, is it like $500?" you continued. San looked away for a moment, eyes scanning the empty table as if it were the most interesting thing in the room. "Shit, $1000?" A deep sigh fell through his lungs, and he looked back to you, subtly shaking his head. "It's more than a $1000?" you eyed him, eyebrows high with shock. "Don't tell me it's like $10,000 or something," you laughed, shaking your head.

"I think it might be close," he said, but his voice was tight; no longer was he sure if he could joke about these expensive things with you, with just how uncomfortable you seemed to be.

"That's rich people shit, like rich rich people shit," you sighed, your tongue on the roof of your mouth.

"Yeah, is that a problem?" he nearly snapped.

"It's not me," you said, your upper body subtly leaning away from his piercing eyes.

And just as he was about to speak, the host came back, two empty tumblers and a glass of water on a small platter. He set it all down, passing the water to you; he poured the two glasses of whiskey with ease, leaving the bottle open on the table next to San, an obvious invitation for him to drink more through the night if he wanted to. He waited for San to take a sip, humming as the warmth spread down through his chest, the taste smooth and dark and spicy, absolutely, breathtakingly delicious.

"It's amazing, thank you," San said to the man, who nodded with a small bow, then grabbed his platter and placed it underneath his arm.

"Are you ready for your first course, or would you like some more time to enjoy your drinks?" he asked.

"We're ready, thank you," San nodded at him, before the man turned and disappeared, just as fast as the first time.

"Give it a sip," San nodded towards you, his eyes falling to the tumbler of whiskey in front of you. You tentatively reached towards it, wrapping your hand around the thick glass; it was heavy and hard to lift, the weight of it surprising you, and as you brought the whiskey towards your face you stopped under your nose, taking in a whiff. The strong, spicy aroma hit your sinuses immediately and made you slightly recoil; when you looked over to San he was watching you intently, clearly waiting for you to do as he'd said. Carefully you tipped the glass towards your lips, taking in the smallest of sips. You swallowed quickly, trying not to grimace too obnoxiously, the sharp flavor almost making you want to gag.

"How is it?" he asked.

"I hate it," you said, the aftertaste now hitting you, another turn of your head and grimace following.

"I know," he said, sighing and looking around, taking the glass into his right hand and pulling it away from you. "I know this isn't you, I'm not asking you to love it," he said slowly. "I'm just asking you to try."

"Try what?" you asked, eyeing your glass that now sat right next to his.

"Try to actually have a good time with me when I'm taking you out," he said.

"I'm having a good time," you mumbled, your eyes hitting the table.

"Baby, you look miserable," he huffed, looking you over again.

"I'm just cold," you sighed, your legs shivering beneath the table, San's jacket helping but not completely making up for the bareness of the rest of your body.

"I could ask them to turn down the AC," he said.

"Oh god, don't do that, I don't want to seem even more insane," you replied.

"Baby," San groaned, tipping his head back with a groan.

"I know, sorry, I'll stop complaining," you sighed, wrapping your hands around one of his and scooting into his side. "Thank you for taking me here tonight, I'm sorry I'm being a bitch," you whispered, eyes fluttering up to meet his, a look full of apologies gracing your face.

It shouldn't have been that easy to win him over, but it always was; the big eyes of the girl he loved looking up at him would always make him fold. He knew, by then, how he felt about you, and he was pretty sure that with time you'd feel the same. This night was a bit of a test, if he was honest; an opportunity to see how you were on an actual date, if you could relish spending the night with him in this way, not in the way you two usually did. He needed to see it before he popped a bigger question to you, one he sincerely hoped you'd say yes to, one that would tell him so much more than this evening could.

Moments later the first course, cheese fondue, hit the table. A pack of four servers arrived, one with the boiling pot itself, placing it carefully a the center of the table and warning you of the heat, the others all carrying dippers and side dishes, the options endless. There was a plate with three different types of interesting looking bread; countless others were filled with what looked like sliced apples and pears, roasted Brussel sprouts and cauliflower, other vegetables and fruits you couldn't be sure of, and an assortment of beautifully plated salamis.

I guess I was wrong, you thought as you dug in, mouth salivating from the moment the pot of cheese had hit the table. Enjoy the evening, that was what everyone told you to do, what San was practically begging you to do, so you did. It was easy when everything tasted so good and you barely had to talk; it occurred to you how strange it was that dinners were common first date activities, when so much of the time was taken up with food in your mouth and no chance to get to know the other person.

The second course was the meat course; a large red pot full of boiling oil was placed where the cheese had been, a live flame underneath it that could be adjusted with a small lever, San immediately reaching forward to see how it worked. On the table sat a beautiful piece of meat; 'filet mignon' one of the servers had said, making your eyes go a bit wide. San showed you how to cut it into the perfect sized pieces, skewer it, then place it in the oil and wait patiently as it cooked to perfection. The assortment of sauces was monumental, ranging from curries to peanut-based concoctions to sweet chutneys. There was no ketchup or barbecue sauce here; each one was more delicious than the next, surely full of ingredients that you wouldn't recognize by name.

"You having fun?" San asked as you chewed your final piece of steak, covered in your favorite of the sauces, the yellow curry.

"Mmhm," you responded while chewing, smiling up in his direction with your closed lips.

"Good, cause I have something to tell you," he said, taking back another short swig of his whiskey, still nursing the first glass that had been poured for him nearly an hour ago. His cheeks were already getting a bit pink; the alcohol was lubricating his thoughts, and though you'd known him for almost half a year by that point, it was the first time you'd seen him drunk since that first night you'd met, all those months ago.

"Hmm?" you responded, finally swallowing your bite and taking a sip of your water.

"Quiero escapar contigo," he said, a playful smirk gracing his lips.

"Quiero, you want, you want to escape...?" you wracked your brain, trying desperately to remember the little Spanish you knew. "You want to escape with me?"

"Si, podemos escapar, solo los dos," he pointed between the two of you, his eyes suddenly looking a little more obviously drunk.

"Podemos?" you asked, not recognizing the verb.

"We can," he answered you.

"You want to escape with me, we can escape, uh, just us two?" you asked, laughing at how hard you were having to work at it. "How the fuck do you already know more Spanish than me, this isn't fair," you pouted, making him laugh.

"Diego has been teaching me some stuff," he said, smiling. "Diego's the guy who works at the front desk in my building, he usually works the evening shift," he said, answering your look of confusion. "I've been teaching him bits of Korean too."

"Oh yeah, sorry," you replied, knowing he'd told you that before. "Didn't you say he already speaks like four languages?"

"I think so," he replied.

"Y'all are too much," you laughed, shaking your head.

"So, do you want to escape with me?" he said again, eyeing you seriously.

"What are you saying?" you laughed.

"Want to escape the heat with me?"

"I'm definitely tired of it," you nodded, the hottest month of summer still not quite upon you, every soul in the city dreading the coming 100 degree days.

"My office is going on a trip to Red Tree Valley, and we're each allowed to bring one plus one," he said.

"Read Tree Valley?" you asked.

"It's up north. Wine country, vineyards. It's beautiful."

"You're gonna be drunk as hell in wine country," you laughed.

"I'm drunk as hell right now," he chuckled, his hot breath smelling of nothing but the sharp whiskey he'd just finished, the single glass making his face and neck now flush a soft crimson.

"Do you wanna take me to wine country so you can drunkenly ask me to be your girlfriend?" you laughed, feeling like maybe that one sip of whiskey earlier had started to affect you too, even though there was no way so little alcohol could have any real affect. "So I'll drunkenly say yes?" you laughed again, head tipping back as you enjoyed your own joke a little too much.

San's face was frozen and his eyes staring off when you looked back at him again, the last thing you expected. "What?" you asked, still chuckling but trying to keep it at bay, worried that your noise level was the reason he was looking so uncomfortable.

It was really because you'd just read his mind, but there was no way he'd be telling you that now, not with the way you'd so obnoxiously just laughed at the idea of him asking that question.

"You know I can't really drink though, like I wouldn't be able to go to a bunch of wine tastings or anything like that, I'd get so sick," you continued. "I wouldn't be expected to like accompany you to every thing you were going to right? I'm assuming there's like a whole itinerary for the trip, but-"

"There's no itinerary," San cut you off with a sigh, turning his serious face back towards you. "We'd have complete freedom of what we did those days, we'd be staying in a little cottage all to ourselves."

"Wow," you responded, letting it all sink in a bit. "When is this? And how long is the trip?"

"It's in three weeks," he started, making your eyes go wide. "And it's a four day weekend trip, a Thursday through Sunday."

"I'd have to take the week off work," you said, looking at him deeply, easily finding every reason why you should say no.

"When's the last time you did that?" he asked as your final course arrived, your own decadent chocolate fondue tower placed in the middle of your table, fruits and pastries filling the rest of the space.

After swallowing a bite of a strawberry you turned to him. "If I say no, who will you take?" you asked, licking a bit of chocolate from the corner of your lips, San's gaze locked on the movement.

"No one," he said, making your heart fill with the warmth you wanted, letting go a sigh of relief. A beat passed as you both locked eyes, your chocolate stained tongue visible to him as your mouth hung open in satisfaction. It was moments like these that made him sure you were on the road to loving him too; you liked when he told you romantic things, and you liked that things with him were exclusive, even if you weren't officially together. He could tell you were about to crack, to give in to his desire, and his breathing turned deep as he kept staring at your mouth, his gaze making something within you shudder.

"I'll go with you," you smiled, body giddy, your legs subconsciously squeezing together under the table.

"Yeah?" he asked, a hand coming to your thigh and squeezing it, his body leaning in.

"Quiero escapar contigo, también," you whispered, his lips brushing yours for a soft moment. The kiss was brief, the only sort of kiss appropriate for public; later that night he'd given you a piece of his mind, whispering all number of Spanish phrases in your ear as he leaned over your back, your body slack against his bed as he drilled into you.

With frenzied work on the play, and the chaos that work could be in late summer, the weeks flew by, your mind not registering just how fast until you were one day from your trip and hadn't packed a thing.

The late summer, just like the winter, would draw people indoors who were trying to escape the weather; often a loitering group could be spotted inside the front doors, their eyes wandering and brows sweaty, clearly not having planned on coming in. It always created a sense of urgency, of disorder; the summer heat always did, and with three new hires and a totally new roster of performances on the schedule, you left work most days completely drained and zoned out.

It was the first Wednesday you hadn't worked in a long time, that was why you suddenly remembered; you'd woken to a text from Tina wishing you good luck with packing, suddenly remembering that tomorrow you'd be leaving with San, needing to have enough clothing with you to actually make it through four days. You were pretty sure there were no stores nearby, no where to grab pads or toothpaste if you suddenly realized you hadn't packed them.

1:07pm: What time do I need to be ready tomorrow?

You sent off the text with haste, scrambling to comb through your closet and find your large duffel bag. There was no time to waste, not when you were sure it was less than twenty-four hours until you'd be leaving, and you hadn't packed even a bit.

1:09pm: The car will stop at my place at 7:45, should be to yours no later than 8

You gaped at his response, suddenly realizing you never asked this before. His next text came through a minute later.

1:10pm: I know it's early for you, you can sleep on the drive. It's about three hours away

Three hours, you really were going far. The highway that snaked north of your city was one you'd never really taken, as out past the hot springs there was nothing for miles, just the harsh open desert and occasional dirt road turn offs. You'd never heard of this place San was taking you, and were sure it must be small and privately owned; you would definitely be feeling uncomfortable again, but you couldn't deny that the night at the Melting Pot had been fun, the experience memorable, your urge to gush about it to Tina overwhelming.

You'd stopped yourself, to save her the irritation, and so she wouldn't possibly ask you questions you weren't ready to answer. You mentioned the trip off-hand and she'd been less shocked than you'd expected; maybe she was more used to this than you already, somehow. She kept repeating, what a perfect arrangement you two have. But you had strong suspicions that San was tired of not being official, and that this trip was his chance to try to change that. Your joke at dinner had been a joke, but also a test; frankly the whole trip was a test, and not just for you, for San too. You were ready to see if your casual thing could extend this far, into trips taken together, dates, nights spent in the same bed. And he was ready to know if finally you were seeing the light, finally seeing what was staring you in the face for six whole months.

As predicted, you couldn't keep yourself awake during the drive, no matter how hard you tried. The desert highway was so flat and quiet that it lulled you away; you were woken once you'd arrived, a bit of drool from you mouth staining the shoulder of San's white t-shirt, his outfit casual but still extremely clean cut. You were dropped in front of your cottage; a one story adobe house with a flat roof, wood decorating every corner, the front door carved in the shape of a giant feather. Inside the air was cool, though no sound indicated an AC unit; there was a tiny front closet, two robes and two sets of slippers inside, a large bed perched in the corner, many colorful rugs adorning the hard wood floor, and a small kitchenette to your right. Down a small hallway was the bathroom; a stone tub sat in the corner, several spigots placed along the wall.

"This is connected to the hot spring, so we can fill the tub with hot water whenever we want," San said, seeing your eyes curiously moving over everything, your mind still a bit fuzzy with sleep.

"That's really nice, wow," you yawned, reaching over to hug him and shove your face in his chest. You wanted to sleep more, and thankfully he allowed it; a short nap was taken by the two of you, cuddled up on the small but luscious bed, San's warm body and even breaths making all sense of time leave you as you drifted off again.

The whole trip, time flied; with him it had always been that way, any moment together feeling like it both extended beyond words and was too short for your liking. But you'd never spent multiple days in a row with him like this, and out in the valley, hikes and meals and evening soaks in the stone tub, life felt completely unreal. It was as if you'd stepped out of your reality into another one, as if you left your real self on pause as you snuck away to indulge. You slept better than you ever had, nearly on San's schedule; you felt light and airy and full of energy on your long walks, felt no sense of anxiety or worry, none of the slight darkness that always followed you.

You'd always thought of it as the way an artist's brain works; mulling things over, obsessing, worrying, analyzing constantly, every aspect of your life and other's dissected to shreds. But suddenly you felt like you were really living, being present, being in the moment, able to take a deep breath and feel it fully exit your lungs before your brain jumped to the next thing.

It was Sunday morning, before you realized; you woke early with San as you had been, walking to the one restaurant on site to have your breakfast. You sat at the table you had been the whole trip, by a window that faced the lush side of the valley; you stared out and watched the long grass blowing in the breeze, mesmerized by how vibrant it was. You'd never seen vegetation like this in your life, and it was hard to take your eyes away.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," San said once you ordered, and you nodded in response, barely tearing your eyes away from the window. About another minute passed before the voice spoke.

"Hi, sorry to bother," a soft woman's voice said behind you, and you whipped your head around, met with the small round face of a short Korean woman.

"Oh, hi," you said, smiling awkwardly. No one had approached you two all trip; in fact you couldn't be sure who here was a part of San's company, and who happened to be random couples visiting at the same time. There were cottages littered throughout the property, you couldn't be sure how many; also, it seemed some people came to visit for just the day.

"I'm San's boss's wife, Eunchae," she said.

"Oh, hi, I'm y/n," you responded, reaching out a hand to shake hers. Then you suddenly felt awkward, wondering if your greeting was correct.

"Again, I hope I'm not bothering, me and my husband just couldn't help noticing how sweet you two are together, are you San's girlfriend?" she asked.

"Oh, that's really sweet, but no, we're just friends," you smiled back, your throat feeling like it was closing a bit on you.

"Oh I see, well-" She was cut off by San's return, him pulling out his chair, the wooden legs scraping against the floor.

"Oh- anyeonghaseo," she said, bowing slightly to him.

"Anyeonghaseo," he said back, bowing too, before the two launched into a brief conversation in Korean that you caught none of.

"Telling everyone our business, are you?" he laughed once she'd left, your food arriving a moment later.

"She literally came over and asked if I was your girlfriend," you responded through a full mouth, your hand covering it.

"Boss keeps asking me when I'm getting married," he laughed, shaking his head.

"Married?" you replied, shocked.

"You know how adults are," he sighed.

"My boss has never asked me that," you chuckled.

"Your boss doesn't know your parents, does she?" he asked, finally digging in himself.

"Before we pack, I have a present for you," San said as the two of you walked back through the door to your cottage.

"You waited all trip to give it to me?" you asked, your eyebrows high with excitement, sitting yourself in front of him on the bed.

"Yes, it's very special," he said, eyeing you with mock seriousness, making you giggle. He squatted down to his suitcase and zipped it open, reaching under a pile of shirts to find the box. "I know you said yours died a couple weeks ago so I wanted to get you a nice new one," he said, rising.

"Okay?" you responded, head tilting to the side in confusion. It took you as long to put two and two together as it did for him to reveal the box to you; a stunning and sleek black wand, to replace your trusty vibrator that had just died on you after years of use.

"Oh my god, San," you gasped, reached forward to grab it from him, your body immediately feeling tingly and hot. "This must have been..." you trialed off before you could finish your sentence, knowing he wouldn't want you to complain about the price. It was at once a thoughtful and utterly sexy gift, and you just kept staring up at him with your mouth agape and eyes wide, making him chuckle.

"Do you like it?' he asked, arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at you.

"Of course," you sighed, finally reaching to pull it fully out of the box, to feel the silicon head and sleek metal body in your hands.

"It looked nice, I hope it's as good as your last one," he said, smirking.

"Of course it is San, I know you know that, stop playing," you laughed, reaching out to playfully smack at his side.

In an instant his lips were on yours, his hands caging in your face, pulling you close. The whole weekend had been like this; any moment you two were alone in the privacy of your cottage his hands were on you, stolen kisses and heavy breaths filling the air, even as you got ready for your next activity. There was such electricity between you that by the time night fell, your bodies slack from your hot soak, you were animals, ravishing each other until your muscles could take no more. It felt good, felt the way you'd always hoped you could feel with someone; to have it with him, without all the extra baggage of a real relationship, felt too good to be true.

Your hands still gripped your new toy as San opened his mouth to deepen your kiss, pulling a moan from the depths of your throat as he sunk his teeth into your bottom lip. Your mouth opened even further, and he crashed his lips on yours, nearly knocking you onto your back as he loomed over you ever closer. You moved to reach up to him, moved to pull on his broad shoulders and feel his muscles clenching under-

His phone on the wooden side table started buzzing, making you both jump.

"Fuck, it's my mom," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. His breaths were still heavy, his face a bit flush and lips slightly swollen. "I should answer it," he said, grimacing.

After steadying his breath he clicked answer, and immediately her voice came soaring through the phone, faster than he could put it to his ear.

"Sannie!" you heard her cry, and immediately your mouth fell open, your heart melting at the nickname.

His muscled arms and furrowed brow stared down at you as you mouthed, 'Sannie?' He just rolled his eyes and shook his head, holding a finger over his lips to shush you. It was hard staying silent as you took in the cute nickname, so juxtaposed with his looks, so unexpected. But the more you said it in your head, the more you mouthed the words, the more perfect it seemed for him.

You'd expected a short conversation, and so had San, but pretty quickly you realized she must be sharing some shocking or exciting news, as his tone of voice and mannerisms were not calm in the slightest. You sat inspecting your toy more, running your hands along the body, mouthing his nickname even more. Then you sat cross-legged and just stared at him, watched him pace slowly back and forth in the small room, listening for long periods before giving his two cents.

Bored, that's how you were suddenly feeling, and frustrated that the attention wasn't on you, if you were honest. You were sure more than ten minutes had passed, probably more like fifteen or twenty. And your wet panties were making you feel needy and uncomfortable; you had to get them off. Suddenly you stood and stripped, making San's eyebrows shoot up, before walking to the plug in the wall by the bed, connecting your new wand to it. You sat yourself back on the pillows, inspecting the on button to make sure you knew where to press. Then you placed the head in between your legs and pressed hard; you weren't prepared in the slightest for how it would feel.

It was a powerful one, on account of the cord; much more powerful than your last vibrator, and this was only the lowest setting, you were pretty sure. You nearly yelped with shock, the feeling almost painful with how stimulating it was. You jerked it away from your core, breath caught in your throat and your face completely shocked.

"Holy fuck," you whispered to San, who was staring hard and trying harder not to laugh, covering his mouth with his hand on instinct, even though his Mom couldn't see him. You saw him take a deep breath, spinning around so he wasn't looking at you anymore; within a minute he was ending the call, shoving his phone in his pocket and turning around to look at you.

"That thing is strong as hell," you said, still naked and spread wide open. He could see everything, see the wet spot in the panties you'd thrown not he ground, see your cunt glistening for him.

"I think you put it on the highest setting," he said, immediately ripping off his shirt and throwing it on the ground, crawling on the bed towards you. "Look, here," he said, showing you the buttons. "This side is for the high settings, this side is the low."

"I thought it was the opposite," you laughed, a twinge of embarrassment hitting your cheeks and making them redden.

"I thought you knew your way around vibrators," he chuckled, leaning in to kiss you.

"Shut the fuck up," you said as he closed the distance, opening your mouth for him to dive in, to pick up where you'd both let off. "Sannie," you added when he pulled away, making his head drop for a moment, his dimples popping as he smiled.

"I think that calls for punishment," he sighed, sitting himself up on his knees and caging you in, holding your wrists in his hand. "Hmm?" he asked, cocking his head to the side.

But you couldn't answer him, all you could do was stare up with wide pleading eyes as your heart started racing, hoping beyond belief that he'd follow through with this.

You'd discussed it only briefly, saying you were open to trying it. You'd never edged yourself, much less been edged by someone in control of you; you weren't prepared for how frustrating it would feel, how far you'd drop into your head and how much you'd completely forget that anything else existed. He had the perfect tool at his disposal, and was pretty sure he could read your body well enough; of course he could, plus you wouldn't come for anything unless he told you you could, loving the feeling of being putty in his hands. After three lost orgasms you were tearily begging him to finally let you have one, and he relented, his own arousal making his cock so hard it was nearly throbbing in pain.

"Fuck, Sannie, fuck," you moaned, as you held onto his wrists, grinding your cunt against the soft head of the vibrator. The nickname fell off your tongue without a thought; even he didn't notice it, too enthralled in the scene in front of him, in watching you soak the head of the vibrator as you nearly came undone.

"You did so good for me baby, you can take this one," he said, and your eyes welled with tears, more from the sweetness than anything else.

"Fuck, oh my god, oh my god," you were nearly screaming, your climax finally hitting, the most intense clitoral orgasm of your life ripping though you like wildfire. Your legs shook violently on the bed as you rode it out, pushing your knees impossibly wider, chasing all the pleasure it had to give you.

"Our neighbors over there probably heard you," San chuckled as you came down, motioning his head out your window to the closest cottage.

"Oh god, I'm sorry," you cringed, biting your bottom lip between your teeth to stifle a laugh.

"No no, let them hear how good I fuck you," he said with a smirk, pushing away the toy to fully envelop you in a kiss, his mouth moving to your neck and hands grabbing at your chest, rubbing your nipples in his hands.

"Fuck, San," you sighed, still coming down from your high, your legs trembling under him. "My legs won't stop shaking," you laughed, holding onto the back of his hair as he moved his mouth down to your left nipple, rolling his tongue around it for a moment before sucking on it hard.

"You okay?" he chuckled as he lifted himself up again, slowly unbuttoning his pants and unzipping them, standing briefly to slip them and his boxers down and off. He was rock hard, cock already glistening at the tip, and your eyes fell to his length shamelessly, your tongue running over your lips. "Can you handle more?"

"I think so," you said quietly, your arms opening to him as he fell back on top of you, kissing you messily and tickling your side, making you scream and squirm.

"Hey!" you cried under him, laughing hard with a bright smile, turning your head to the side for a second as San continued to bury his mouth in your neck.

"Here, come here," he said as he relented, pulling back a bit and readjusting your legs, putting one knee over each of his shoulders. "I'll hold your legs like this so they won't shake," he said, using his left hadn't to guide his cock through your soaked cunt, then pushing in slowly.

A low moan fell from your lips, your eyes closing as you felt him stretch you, then bottom out. No matter how many times he'd been inside you he still felt so big; not quite as shocking as that very first night, but still he stretched you, still it sometimes felt hard to take, especially in certain positions. He waited until your eyebrows unfurrowed, until your breath evened out again, to start moving.

"Did you like what we did earlier?" he asked as he lazily stroked in and out of you, holding onto your thighs slung over his shoulders, leaning down so your faces were about a foot apart.

"Yes," you whispered between moans, eyes opening and shutting with every stroke, the feeling electric.

"You like this?" he asked.

"Yes, s-so much," you sighed, clenching down on him, the angle making your cunt almost numb with pleasure.

"Fuck, baby, do that again," he groaned above you, and you obliged, clenching down as he thrusted in, making his breath hitch. "Fuck I love your cunt so much," he moaned, making you clench again involuntarily at the use of the lewd word. "Your body is so fucking perfect, like it was made for me," he whispered as he closed the distance, your legs folded completely over you as he kissed you passionately, the angle now so deep you could feel him in your guts.

You were used to dirty talk from him, but this was so much more reverent than usual; as you both came your guts twisted in knots with all the pleasure you were feeling, body so spent you could barely walk. The rest of the day it was like you couldn't leave his side, as if breaking contact would lead to your sudden death; something in that moment, in those words, had latched you to him. The whole trip felt like a fever dream, felt unreal; you wouldn't realize how attached it'd made you until months later, when a challenging month would put everything in perspective in a way you wished you could have seen coming.

Present

There's nothing like catching the flu as an adult to remind you how fragile you are. Nothing like laying awake at three a.m. unsure if you'll survive the night to change your perspective.

It had been a very long time since you'd been sick like this; never had you taken two full weeks off of work, unable to walk much for the first week, spending every waking moment of the next nursing yourself back to health.

Every day began to bleed into the next, the way nothing was happening; you swore days were repeating themselves, felt like you were going slightly insane. The only break from the monotony was San, or Tina and Maya visiting, or your roommates occasionally knocking on your door to check that you were alive. Your head hurt so badly you couldn't look at your phone or computer; your body hurt so badly you didn't want to move at all.

It meant you spent the time thinking, thinking about things you'd shoved so far back in your mind you thought you'd never see them again. You thought of your family, thought of the images of your twin Micah caring for your dad that one summer so long ago, the first time his health took a severe nose-dive. Those images burned the back of your eyelids as they played through your head, making your brain feel fiery. You thought of the last year, of everything you and Tina had worked towards; you thought of the bar, of your wonderful coworkers, your beautiful friends that made life more fun than you ever thought it could be.

And you thought of San. You weren't sure why thinking of him, of everything, was what made you cry. He'd been with you almost every night you'd been sick, bringing you soup and tea, waking up in the middle of the night when you did and grabbing you more medicine on instinct. He held you close as you cried through your pain, comforting you until you finally, finally fell back into slumber.

The last year with him played through your head, and as long as it did, the tears kept flowing. A string of kindness from him, that was really all you could remember; you knew you'd been cruel, knew you'd kept him further than arm's length for so damn long. Yet here he still was, helping to take care of you, his warm body against yours the only reason you were getting decent sleep at night. During the day you were still feverish, exhausted, and in need of rest; but the sleep never came until he leaned down beside you, his work day behind him, placing gentle kisses on your cheeks and feeling over your forehead and neck to see just how feverish you were.

You vowed to be better. Not just to San, but to your family, to your friends, to everyone in your life who made it so good. Your life was not perfect, not the sort of thing anyone would dream of; only if that person was like you, too obsessed with their art to pursue any kind of normalcy, would they desire this strangeness. But you loved it, loved it all the more as you lay sick in bed, missing the strength of your legs as you twirled around the stage, missing the simple act of running your fingers over your keyboard, your mind clear enough to spew forth the stories always running through your thoughts.

"If you feel better by Valentine's Day, can I take you out that night for dinner? It's next Sunday," San asked you one evening as you lay slack and shivering against him.

"I'd love that," you replied, looking up at him with your red, watery eyes. Laying on your side with your head on his chest was a welcome change from your back, but the position was making your lungs squeeze a bit in a way you really hated.

"I was thinking we could go to the Melting Pot again, it's almost been a year since we went that one time," he said.

"I'll really have to be better if we go there," you laughed, coughing immediately afterwards.

"I know, we'll only go if you're not coughing anymore," he said, rubbing his hand comfortingly down your back.

As the week before Valentine's Day rolled on you were less and less sure of the plan; by that Thursday you were still a coughing, miserable mess. At least the fever had gone, for several days now, but the idea of getting dressed up to go out, especially to an extremely fancy restaurant, sounded positively awful. By some miracle though, Saturday morning you woke feeling much better. You were able to stand on your own, make your own breakfast; you even managed to sit up for a while and do some writing, before vegging the rest of the day away watching reality TV and eating anything you could find.

Sunday morning you felt even better; you'd shooed San home the previous day, told him he no longer needed to stay. He'd been a bit ragged with taking care of you for so long, and though you were thankful and wished he could be there forever to help you out, you knew he needed space and rest too. You slept like a rock though, finally feeling well due to the absence of your cough; you woke feeling far more refreshed, far more happy than you had in two long weeks.

The break from pain had you savoring everything; it wasn't until after your delicious breakfast that you saw the message from Millie.

My Kid Genius!

Oh how excited I am to be sending you this email! I ran into Mark Smith, owner of the Willow Theater at a dinner event last night, and spoke to him about your musical. He introduced me to one of the directors he works with often, and the guy immediately loved the whole premise. I showed him an excerpt from the opening song and he immediately said he wants it. He was super excited, he sent over paperwork this morning to have me sign (and there is some for you and Tina to sign as well, it is attached). The choice is yours now, whether you want them to be the ones to take you on!

How immensely proud I am! I hope you are as excited by this news as I am!

Talk to you soon,

Millie

It took you less than a second to dial her.

"Tina!" you screamed once you heard the line go live, cutting in so fast she couldn't even say hello.

"Oh my god, what?" she asked groggily, clearly having just woken up, the first morning after her work week.

"The Willow Theater wants our play!! Millie just emailed me!!" you cried.

"Wait, seriously?" she asked, yawning quickly.

"Yes seriously, wake up!" you laughed, jumping up and down in place, pacing your room frantically.

"I was up late last night, I'm fucking dead," she laughed back, sighing.

"Okay, well, yes seriously our musical is being picked up by this theater, and there's stuff we have to sign, it's a whole big thing, can we go out tonight and celebrate?" you rambled.

"Of course, of course," she replied, yawning again.

"How about Roberto's?" you asked, naming your favorite Taqueria.

"You're a cheap date, love," she joked with you.

"Come on, tacos and margaritas, what's a better way to celebrate?" you laughed.

"It'll be just tacos for you, you lightweight," she replied.

"I'll have a few sips, get real fucked up," you joked.

"Sounds good, text me later. I need more sleep," she yawned before hanging up, her brain drifting back into slumber as soon as her head hit the pillow.

Only a few minutes later your phone rang again, San's name appearing bright on the screen. A feeling like you had forgotten something important hit you again, but with a sigh you answered, not wanting to make a big deal of it.

"Hello!" you answered brightly, the giddiness you were feeling so obviously present in your tone.

"How are you feeling baby?" he asked, yawning himself.

"Really good, I just got really good news," you said, sitting yourself down on your bed cross-legged.

"Oh yeah, what's that?" he asked.

"Me and Tina's musical is being picked up by one of the really big theaters, it's called the Willow," you said.

"Oh I've heard of it! That's amazing!" he responded, clearly tired but excited by the news.

"Thank you," you smiled, melting into the phone a bit.

"I'm so proud of you, I knew someone was going to want to put it on," he sighed.

"Sannie," you whined, never sure what to do with his praise.

"It sounds like you're feeling better, are you?" he asked.

"Yeah, a lot better- oh! I'm gonna go to Roberto's with Tina tonight, I'm sure Maya will be coming too, do you wanna come with?" you asked excitedly, with all the happiness in the world.

"I thought- you're feeling up to going out?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm feeling a lot better," you answered, still happy as can be.

"I thought I was gonna take you out if you were feeling better," he said, and you were silent for a moment, confused. "It's Valentine's Day today," he said, knowing that you must be forgetting the date.

"Oh- oh my god I totally forgot," you nearly whispered, suddenly feeling slightly sick.

"I thought you maybe had," he said, sighing.

"Don't say it like that, I've been sick, I've been- this news was so surprising I just- this is all I've ever wanted Sannie, and the fact that I'm doing it with Tina is so amazing, and we really need to sign some paperwork tonight, that's honestly why I want to get together with her so we can do it in person and-" you cut yourself off with a deep breath. "We can go out to a fancy dinner any night, I just really wanna celebrate with my friend today," you sighed.

"I get it," he replied, so short.

"I get that you're pissed at me-"

"I'm not pissed, just surprised," he said, cutting you off.

"That's not true, you're pissed," you replied, and you both were just quiet, the truth of your statement lingering in the air. "Do you wanna come with us?" you finally asked, just to break the silence.

"Sure, yeah," he said, sighing hard.

"You don't have to-"

"Yes, I wanna come celebrate with you, this is a big deal," he said, asking you for the address of the place, promising he'd meet you all there at seven.

It should have been a nerve-wracking night, the first time the four of you were out like this together. Tina and Maya had met him in passing several times by then, but never had you been on what was basically a double-date; you two sat opposite them, you all crammed into the tiny wooden booths with yellow painted tables, the paint chipping at every edge, exposing the cheap wood beneath.

"Hey, that girl who rejected you still works here," Maya joked as she walked to the table with your drinks, reminding you of a hilarious day more than two years ago, the first time you tried your luck at flirting with someone who you barely knew. It'd been a dare too, just to add to the ridiculousness; you failed remarkably, and ever since that day your friends had never let it go, the look of pure embarrassment on your face still etched in their memories.

"Oh my god, seriously?" you laughed as she scooted into the booth, wrapping her arm around Tina and pulling her into a quick kiss, the two cuddling up against each other as they started sipping their margaritas.

"Did anyone tell you about the new line cook at work?" Tina asked you, head still rested against Maya's shoulder.

"No, how new is he?" you asked.

"Like two weeks ago he started I think, I guess right after you were sick. Right when I went back," she said. "Apparently he's one of Ilya's ex's, and there's been so much drama since the day he started. I think Julie's gonna fire him, it's a big mess."

"She better, I know she hates to do it but it's necessary sometimes," you sighed, sniffling hard as some mucus fell down your nose.

"You know how she is," Tina sighed, shrugging her shoulders.

"But he's Ilya's ex, like that's just a recipe for disaster," you said.

"I don't think Julie knows that part," she replied.

"Oh, shit," you sighed, raising your eyebrows. The two of you fell into easy conversation, Maya piping up here and there; it was how things always were with the three of you, Maya always comfortable to take a backseat in the conversation as the two of you blabbed about anything and everything. It helped that she was quite introverted, but she also just had this understanding; you and Tina were attached at the hip, you saw each other as soulmates in a way. Though you weren't romantically involved, your dynamic was something precious and holy, something you valued more than almost anything; you sometimes got so distracted talking to each other that if other people were around, you forgot them.

It had been so long since anyone had seen this happen and had a problem with it, that you'd nearly forgotten how bad it could be. And you hadn't realized for so long how understanding Maya was, how much grace she gave the two of you in these situations; the evening wore on until San abruptly told you he had to leave, and with only a simple hug and kiss on the cheek he was off, his brow furrowed, his entire body leaking the frustration and stress he was obviously feeling. As he stormed off towards the front door of the restaurant you felt a twinge in your chest; as happy as this evening had been, as good as a few sips of alcohol had you feeling, you couldn't just sit and let him go.

"I'm gonna go follow him, he seems upset," you said to your friends, quickly shuffling out of the booth with your purse in hand, walking as fast as you could without making a scene. They both nodded at you, but you could see something tense behind their eyes; whether it was worry or judgement, you couldn't tell.

"San!" you called behind him, the streets quite desolate, even for a Sunday evening. Though he was almost a full block away you could still easily make him out, not a single human between you. His head twitched a bit at the sound but he didn't look directly, so you broke into a full on run, feeling comfortable to do so given just how empty the street was.

"San!" you called again, closer now, and finally he turned his head. You caught up to him in several seconds, breaking into a fierce coughing fit from the exertion; you held onto his arm as you did, composing yourself with a deep breath, clearing your throat.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You seemed upset, I wanted to see if you were okay," you said, still holding onto him.

"I'm okay," he nodded, but his tone was flat like your's was sometimes, in a way that his rarely was.

"Are you sure?" you asked, looking up at him, but his eyes wouldn't meet yours. "Sannie I'm trying to do the thing that a girlfriend is supposed to do, you know, seeing if you're okay, running after you to get you to talk even if you just walked away all of the sudden..." You sighed as you trailed off, staring off into the empty street, the whole world feeling like it revolved around just the two of you, every nook and cranny made for just you two to exist in.

"I didn't walk off all of the sudden, I stayed for almost two hours," he sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket to check the time, sighing again when he saw it.

"But you said goodbye and got up to leave so abruptly," you said.

"I tried to say something earlier, but I couldn't get a word in," he said, finally looking down at you. "You and Tina were just ignoring us two the whole time, you know that right?"

"I- we weren't meaning to, fuck, I know we can be that way sometimes," you sighed, shaking your head. "I- I'm sorry Sannie, I didn't realize I was doing that."

"You should have seen Maya's face, the way she was just looking back and forth between you two. Like she puts up with that shit all the time," he said, curt.

"She's never minded it," you replied, taking your hands off his arms now, recoiling in on yourself at the tone of his voice.

"Well I guess I do," he said, crossing his arms.

"You really stormed off cause of that? Cause you were annoyed at me and Tina for talking so much? We had just-"

"I did not storm off, I excused myself very politely," he nearly snapped, looking up and down the street, obviously checking for potential eavesdroppers.

"Fuck, yes, sorry, you didn't storm off, but you're obviously really fucking upset at me and I'm struggling to believe it's all because of me and Tina doing our thing that we do where we talk in circles and no one can get a word in, listen I'm sorry, we just got such fucking good news! We were excited, we had to discuss a bunch of shit, decide if we even wanted to sign into this contract, it's gonna be a shit ton of work, it'll be cr-"

"Please keep your voice down," he sighed, spotting a man waiting to cross the street at the corner.

"San, why are you so upset?" you asked, your volume lower as he requested, but your tone no less distressed.

"Why am I upset? Because I was thinking I'd get to take you out to a nice dinner tonight, that I'd get to celebrate Valentine's Day with my girlfriend, that we'd have nice whiskey and delicious food and-"

"Oh, are my tastes too cheap for you, is that it?" you snapped.

"I don't give a fuck where we are, I just want to be with you!" he snapped back. "You told me I'd get to take you out tonight, of course I'm fucking upset that it didn't happen!"

"I got huge fucking news this morning, don't you get that?! And who gives a fuck about Valentine's Day, we can go out any day! I wanted to celebrate with my friend who I've been working tirelessly with for almost a fucking year! A year! And it's finally working and we're finally going somewhere and we're actually gonna be seeing our shit up on a stage- fuck, why are you ruining this night for me!? I'm supposed to be celebrating and happy!" you nearly growled, tears forming on your lash line now, your whole body shaking with rage.

"You could have just told me to stay home," he growled back.

"Oh, you didn't actually want to celebrate with us?!" you snapped.

"I didn't want to go out with your friends who are so clearly in love and have them rub their perfect relationship in my face, joking about some girl who works there who you've hit on, how the fuck is that supposed to make me feel?!" he yelled.

"It was a dare San, a stupid fucking dare that Maya gave me one day when we were bored as fuck, and she just wanted to mess with me, and I stupidly went along with it and was totally humiliated by the look of disgust on the girl's face, that shit means nothing!" you cried, your hands coming up to cup your face.

"You obviously care about them much more than you care about me," he sighed, his volume finally lowering.

"My friends?" you asked, staring at him with confusion, and he nodded. "San I've known Tina for like five years now, she's my best friend, she's been with me through so much."

"I've been with you through a lot too," he said, looking away.

"It's different though, with her..." you trailed off, not sure what to say. The pile of tears finally burst from your lash line, falling down your cheeks in a sudden rush. You wiped at them furiously, your legs shaking despite the heat, the alcohol working it's way through you, making the conversation all the worse.

"I wish you cared about me like you care about them," he finally said, breaking the tense silence.

"I do Sannie," you said, but you both could read the wobble in your tone.

"I wish you would be so comfortable with me in public, like they are," he said.

"I've just never been very comfortable with PDA," you sighed. "I wish- I wish you'd understand how strange I am. I feel like you expect me to be like someone or something else, but I don't know what that thing is, and I don't think I could be different even if I knew what you wanted."

"I don't want you to be different," he said slowly, finally taking a step towards you, opening his arms. Your body immediately reacted, slumping into him. "I like you just the way you are, even if you piss me off sometimes."

"I knew you were pissed," you chuckled through a sniffle, bringing a hand up to wipe at your eyes, more tears falling now that he was holding you. They were a mixture of worry and relief, a mishmash of every sort of feeling. As you stood there in the street, the weight of the world felt like it suddenly hit you; you felt dizzy, suddenly nauseous, and you pulled away from San and ducked down into the gutter just in time for the few sips of alcohol to eject themselves from your mouth, a gross blue mess of liquid hitting the stained concrete.

"I hate when we fight," you said through tears as you stood to look at him, his hands coming to brush your hair out of your face, one moving to your forehead on instinct.

"Me too baby, me too," he said through a sigh, pulling you into him and placing a kiss on your forehead.

"We need to stop doing it," you squeaked, more tears flowing, a deep headache beginning to bloom at the nape of your neck.

"I know," he whispered, shushing you; he carried you home on your back, helped you wash up in your sink, before kissing you goodbye, holding you so tight you thought you might pop.

Whiplash, that was what the day had been; you fell asleep exhausted from the rollercoaster, hoping dearly that whatever the next few weeks had in store, none of it would come with the sudden news that your dreams weren't coming true after all.

next part ->

taglist: @pyeongstarr @hwaromi @hi00000234567 @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starhwa1024

@completelyjae @midnightrebel1028 @pautiny27 @snapcracklen

thank you all as always <3333

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pyeongstarr · 5 months ago

Text

🫵🏽🩷

reblog to tell your mutuals they’re lovely af.

✨♡♡✨♡♡✨♡♡✨♡♡✨

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pyeongstarr · 5 months ago

Text

The Help

pairing: choi san x afab! reader

word count: 11k

warnings: smut (i mean,,, it’s me), d/s undertones, reader is kind of a brat, brat tamer choi san (yes), unprotected sex, rough sex, manhandling, hair pulling, oral sex (female receiving), spit kink and play, spanking, praise, name calling, possessive sex, kind of a breeding kink?, creampie, past abusive relationship (so if that’s a trigger skip the first few paragraphs), reader is a badass (i love women), lots of teasing.

summary: you’re tired of your ex trying to control your life, and as you’re once again faced with him, you know you’ll have to rely on yourself to make it. but… things don’t go as planned, and for once, someone steps in, and helps you. instead of going home, you decide to give the stranger a chance at making your night memorable. and fuck, he does.

A part of you is scared. But more than fear, the emotion burning and growing in your chest is anger. Maybe even humiliation? So many feelings flicker incessantly through your body, and even when you try to reach out and grab hold of some, they mock you, swirling away, resuming their constant motion: their circus dance.

“Please, let me go,” you plead again. Because even though you’re angry, you’re trying to be clever. Trying to find a way out, trying to escape quickly and painlessly.

But he doesn’t seem to care. Jaewon grips your wrist with force, with arrogance. You’d like to say it’s something you’re not used to, but you’d be lying. Still, you swallow your tears. Even though too many have already fallen, and even though you wish you could push them back, you know it’s impossible.

“I told you to fucking listen to me!” he shouts. His eyes are bloodshot and god knows what else. His hair is disheveled, dark circles etched under his eyes. So far from the image you once had of him.

Jaewon was your boyfriend. He was, for a while. Nothing too serious, at least not for you. You ended things when he started becoming more aggressive, more inclined to control you. You ended things when you found pictures of other girls on his phone, and the undeniable proof that besides you, others had also warmed his bed.

He didn’t take it well. Constant messages, sometimes calls. He showed up under your apartment more than once, and now—now he waited for you outside the club you were heading to. He probably followed you from home or used whatever other insane method he thought of to keep tabs on you.

The fact is, you can’t do anything now. He’s gripping you tight, and he looks desperate. Nothing about this promises anything good.

People are ignoring it: some too afraid, others utterly indifferent. You’d like to blame them, but you don’t. Maybe you’ve always been used to indifference. It doesn’t surprise you at all. In fact, for you, it’s the norm. You’ve always had to take care of yourself. No one else ever did.

“I don’t want to! No… we’ve already said everything there was to say. We’re done, Jaewon. I’m done. Let me go and leave. Can’t you see you’re only making things worse?”

He doesn’t like you talking back. He doesn’t like you standing above him. And you are, fuck. You are, and pretty much anyone would be, compared to the scum you have in front of you. A small, petty, useless man. A coward.

“Y/n, watch your mouth, you hear me? Don’t piss me off more than you already have,” he growls, yanking you closer to him. With the boots you’re wearing, tripping is almost impossible. You hate being so close to him and try to push him away. But he takes advantage of it, and now he’s gripping both of your wrists, moving your body like it’s made of rags and forcing you to look him in the face.

“Look at how the fuck you’re dressed! Don’t you have a shred of respect for me? Don’t you feel ashamed?”

You’re exhausted. You want to scream, you want to shove him away and kick him until he feels the pain he’s causing you. And you hate it, hate that he’s trying to make you feel this way. You even hate that a tiny part of your brain is pushing you to feel guilty. But you don’t listen to it. You swallow your emotions and try to stay sharp because he deserves nothing. He doesn’t deserve your suffering, your reverence. He’s just a self-centered lunatic who wants something he knows he can’t have.

“I’ll dress however I want, I always have. I owe you nothing, Jaewon. And you’re hurting me, I told you. Go home before you do something you’ll regret.”

Despite everything, you can’t swallow down your own nature. As if some part of you still wants to protect him, too used to taking care of everyone and everything. But you’re at your limit. You just want some peace. You just want to enjoy your night. Better yet, your life.

“What’s this, are you threatening me?” he snaps back, a twisted laugh escaping from his lips bitten raw. He misunderstood because he always misunderstands everything—every word, every thought.

You don’t know how to get out of this. You don’t know what to do. It all keeps getting worse, second by second. You feel like you’re suffocating. You feel small, crushed under the weight of something far too big. But you want to be strong. Really, you desperately want to be. But more than anything, you wish you didn’t have to be. You wish you could be small, fragile. But safe.

You open your mouth to respond, even though resignation is already growing within you.

Something — someone — interrupts you.

“She’s not threatening you. But I am. Get your hands off her, buddy.”

You’re confused. This… this shouldn’t be happening. It never has before. No one has ever tried to help you, and it feels so surreal. But when you raise your eyes, you realize you’re wrong.

Your first thought, absurdly, is that the guy — the man — who spoke is one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen. Black hair, feline and intense eyes, broad shoulders. Jaewon’s jaw clenches. He’s not used to being interrupted, either.

But the nameless man has a hand gripping his arm, and he seems to be holding tight. And yet, his face shows little emotion. A stern gaze, but one that seems to soften slightly when it lands on you.

“Who the fuck is this? Someone you’re screwing, Y/n?”

The coward doesn’t have the guts to talk directly to him, so he keeps trying to belittle you, who are gasping, confused and scared, panic slowly growing in your chest. “No. But I am someone who’s about to hurt you really bad if you don’t let her go. You’re a pathetic worm, and I crush worms like you, buddy.”

Jaewon hesitates, his grip on your wrists loosening just a fraction. He looks at the guy up and down, a flash of doubt crossing his eyes. But then, like the pathetic creature he is, he tries to recover by puffing out his chest and snarling, “Mind your own fucking business, buddy. This is between me and her. Isn’t it, Y/n?”

The man’s gaze turns icier, his hand still gripping Jaewon’s arm like a steel vice. His expression remains calm, unsettlingly so, like he’s not even remotely threatened by the man in front of him. If anything, he looks vaguely irritated. Especially due to the fact that Jaewon tried to use you as a support for his own fucking tantrum.

“I don’t think you understand,” the man begins, his voice cutting through the night like a beacon. It’s something tangible where there was only darkness before. Maybe even a shred of hope. Salvation. “I’ve been polite up until now. Leave her alone.”

Jaewon seems stuck. Confused, maybe. You know him well enough to tell he’s seething with rage far beyond what he’s showing. But like the coward he is, he only targets those who seem defenseless, weaker than him. Jaewon doesn’t fight battles he knows he can’t win. “Fine,” he growls. It’s almost animalistic. His hands release your wrists with the same violence he used to grab them. He shoves you away, and you stumble a bit.

He doesn’t let go out of remorse or a guilty conscience. He lets go because he’s a coward.

The man next to you takes a step forward, steadying you. But before he can move any further, you find yourself clutching at the fabric of his shirt, desperate to keep him from leaving you alone.

Jaewon stalks off, radiating fury.

“Don’t leave me alone,” you whisper. You’re shocked by your own words because you never ask for help. It’s just not you. But now? Now you feel drained, overwhelmed, lost in a whirlwind of emotions you can’t fully process. And you don’t want this guy — this stranger who actually dared to intervene — to end up getting hurt because of someone as worthless as Jaewon. It wouldn’t be fair.

“No, hey, it’s okay. Everything’s fine now,” the man reassures you, his voice softer this time, actually addressing you directly. His gaze is completely different now: gentle, comforting. Still feline, yes, but more like a cat’s rather than a fierce predator’s.

“My name’s San,” he murmurs, and there’s a hint of shyness there, like he’s not used to introducing himself under these kinds of circumstances.

“I’m Y/n. Thank you, San. I didn’t think anyone… that anyone would help. You didn’t have to, but thank you. Really.”

San shakes his head, a tiny, dismissive smile curving his lips. But there’s something sad beneath that smile, something that looks almost like frustration. “No one was doing anything. I couldn’t just stand there and watch,” he mutters, his eyes casting sharp, judgmental looks at the bystanders — those who chose to do nothing yet couldn’t resist gawking at the scene.

“I’m used to it, don’t worry,” you reply with a sad smile of your own. Your body feels sluggish now, adrenaline bleeding away and leaving you with a mess of feelings you can’t quite untangle.

“Doesn’t make it right,” he counters, and the firmness of his words feels like a reminder, one you almost needed to hear. He gives you a little space, stepping back just enough to make sure you’re not uncomfortable. And that’s when you realize your hands are still clutching his shirt. You pull away as if you’ve been burned, embarrassment heating your cheeks. You mumble some kind of apology, but he quickly brushes it off.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to get you some water or something?” he asks, concern lacing his tone.

You shake your head. The ghost of Jaewon’s touch still lingers on your skin. “I’m fine, really. I just… I just need a minute.”

San doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push. You’re grateful for that, and grateful that he stays nearby, radiating a sense of security that feels so strange and new. “Take all the time you need,” he says, his eyes darting around as if making sure Jaewon’s really gone.

As your breathing steadies, you notice your whole body is trembling. You were planning to drink yourself into a carefree night at the club, not get stranded in the cold, fighting off the ghost of someone you never wanted to see again. You rub your arms, trying to warm yourself. The thin blouse and mini skirt you’re wearing do nothing to protect you from the chill.

“I owe you. Really,” you murmur, hating how weak your voice sounds. San shakes his head, almost annoyed by the thought of you owing him anything.

“You don’t owe me a thing. That guy’s a piece of shit, and you shouldn’t have to deal with his crap. No one should. I just did what was right,” he explains, and even as he speaks, he’s already shrugging off his leather jacket. Underneath, he’s wearing a simple black t-shirt that clings to him with an obsessive, almost painful elegance.

“Here, put this on,” he says, draping the jacket over your shoulders before you can even protest. Its weight is immediate and comforting, the warmth sinking into your skin and chasing away the last of your chills. It smells like him. Intense. Overwhelming. Alluring. And you hate that your first instinct is to bury your face in the collar and breathe him in like he’s the oxygen you’ve been starved of.

“Is that better?” he asks, his voice a little gentler now. And you can’t help but be thrown by how genuine he sounds, how every word feels like it’s meant just for you.

You nod, offering him a shy smile as you pull the jacket tighter around yourself. Your body’s finally starting to feel warm again. “Yeah, much better,” you reassure him, shrinking into the comfort of his jacket, trying to make yourself as small as possible within its safety.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" San asks, his gaze lingering on how your body all but vanishes within his jacket. His smile is soft, disarming, and you can’t help but notice how the delicate dimples decorating his face only enhance his allure. They’re a subtle charm, something that both fascinates and entices you in a way you can’t quite place.

You hesitate. Part of you wants to say yes. To go home, hide away, retreat to the safety of your four walls where everything is quiet and predictable. But you don’t want that. Not really. You refuse to hand Jaewon that satisfaction, to let him force you to abandon something you had planned for yourself. He's not worth it. And you've always promised yourself you wouldn’t sacrifice any part of who you are for anyone, especially not a man. And if that man is that sleazy idiot Jaewon, then your resolve is all the more unshakable.

So, you shake your head. And while your decision feels uncertain at first, the moment you take a long, grounding breath, you know you’re making the right choice.

“No,” you murmur, your shoulders tightening slightly before relaxing again. “I still want to drink and have fun. If I go home now, then he wins, right?”

Something flickers in San’s expression, a curious mixture of pride and admiration. His head bobs in an immediate nod, that dimple of his still very much present. “Exactly. Good. You shouldn’t let him think he has any power over you.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, a trace of hesitation lacing your movements. San is gorgeous. One of the most beautiful men you’ve ever laid eyes on, if not the most beautiful, period. Maybe it’s irrational, maybe it’s reckless, but who could blame you for trying to salvage something good out of an otherwise disastrous night?

“But if you want…” you begin, and his whole face seems to light up, feline eyes glittering with something rich and deliciously intense. “If you want, you could still keep me company? I was thinking of having a drink, clearing my head... But I don’t know if you had plans or needed to meet up with someone.”

San’s response is immediate, as if he’s been waiting to hear those words. His hand moves to brush back a rebellious lock of pitch-black hair that frames his face just so, making him look even more captivating. “Gladly. No, I... just some friends, but nothing important. I’ll send them a message. Mingi’s probably already out cold, anyway,” he explains with a casual shrug, as if you have any clue who the hell Mingi is.

But that’s not the point. The point is that San is here, offering his time and attention like it’s the simplest thing in the world. And maybe, just maybe, tonight doesn’t have to end as badly as it started. You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. His answer comes so easily, so naturally, like being here with you is exactly where he wants to be. And that thought alone makes your heart stutter a little.

“Okay,” you say, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I hope your friends don’t get too mad at you for ditching them.”

San’s laugh is low, rich, with an edge of something playful that tugs at your nerves. “If anything, they’ll be relieved. Especially if Mingi’s already passed out somewhere. He’s a lot to handle, believe me.”

You chuckle, the tension easing from your shoulders bit by bit. “Sounds like a wild group.”

“You have no idea.” He tilts his head, eyes glinting under the dim lights as he studies you. Not just looks at you, but really studies you, like you’re something worth figuring out. You don’t miss the way his eyes seem to flicker down to your exposed legs, nor the way his ears get red when he notices you caught him staring. “But right now, I’d much rather get to know you,” he adds, a boldness to his tone that you don’t know whether it’s genuine or fake.

You take a breath. The umpteenth one of the night. You smile, because even when courage feels distant, you force yourself to embody it. You force yourself to give everything you have, no matter the cost. Even when it feels like you have nothing left to give.

You take a step. Timid, maybe, but determined. The next one feels almost scorching. You reach out and take San’s hand. Your fingers slip between his, intertwining so naturally it’s like they were always meant to fit. San’s eyes widen, surprise flickering across his face as a gorgeous flush blooms along his cheeks. The sight leaves your own skin blazing, but even through the embarrassment, you push forward, daring to claim what you want.

Heat rushes through you, sweet sparks dancing across your skin—tiny, glowing constellations sparking to life wherever your bodies connect. You lift your gaze to his, and it’s like he’s already wrapping himself around you, his presence both sheltering and electric. That intoxicating sense of protection lingers, and you already feel yourself starting to get addicted to it.

Your lashes flutter, but your eyes remain locked on his, a magnetic pull neither of you seems willing to break. His breathing has quickened, his grip tightening around your hand like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

“So, are you coming with me?” you whisper, your voice low and daring, trembling with all the possibilities hanging between you. His lips part, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that threatens to unravel you. But that’s fine. Because something about this moment feels real. Raw. Undeniably yours.

San licks his lips, and the he pulls you closer, his grip possessive and protective all at once. “Lead the way,” he murmurs, voice roughened by something you can’t quite name.

The club looms ahead, lights spilling out from the entrance, throbbing with bass-heavy music and the echo of laughter. You hesitate, but only for a moment, before tugging San forward, your fingers never breaking from his. As you step inside the club that was on other side of the street, the atmosphere swallows you both whole. You don’t usually go out clubbing, but when you do, you easily lose yourself to the feeling.

Neon lights slash through the darkness, painting everything in shades of electric blue and crimson. Bodies move and sway to the music’s hypnotic pulse, but it’s the warmth of San’s hand entwined with yours that makes your pulse stutter.

He leans in, his lips dangerously close to your ear, his voice low and tempting. “So, was this part of your plan? Dragging me in here just to keep me close?” The playful accusation sends heat spiraling through your chest. You meet his gaze, your smile taunting.

Despite the music, all you can hear it’s him.

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t call it dragging if you’re the one holding on so tightly.”

He chuckles, the sound dark and smooth, his dimple flashing as he looks at you like you’re the most captivating thing in the room. “Touché. Guess I’m not letting go anytime soon, then.”

“Is that promise?” you answer, tongue darting out of your mouth to wet your lips, his face following the way your lipstick stained lips shine under the lights of the club. “Maybe. Or a threat. It depends.”

You shake your head, but your answer gets lost when someone bumps against your shoulder as they pass by. San is quick: he tugs at your wrist, making you fall against his chest.

“Got you,” he says, looking proud of himself from doing so.

“Seems like it,” you answer, and he looks extremely pleased with the way you two seem to be playing the same game.

“You’re good at this,” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way your heart is racing. He raises an eyebrow. “At what?”

“At making me forget about everything else,” you admit, softer than you intended.

San’s gaze softens, and his smile turns almost tender, though there’s still that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” he replies. “Never said it was,” you say, your body starting to tremble with the way the music dances around you two.

“Drinks?” he asks, titling his head towards the bar and pointing at it with his chin. You nod immediately, and San takes the lead, making you follow him as he makes room for the both of you in the endless sea of bodies that fill the space around you guys.

You reach the counter, and San leans over the bar with confidence, catching the bartender’s attention with a wave and ordering something you vaguely recognize as potent and smooth. Strawberry flavored, for the both of you. You like it, that that’s what he would choose for himself. He does indeed own a sweet vibe that you can’t quite capture.

When the drinks arrive, he slides yours toward you, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment—enough to make your breath hitch. He watches you intently as you take a sip, his own glass untouched.

“Good?” he asks, and instead of answering with words you decide to chug the drink down in one go, the alcohol immediately flooding your body and making your mind foggy enough to make the air thicken around you. “That’s my girl!” he says, laughing as he mirrors your gesture, a droplet of the drink spilling from his lips and leaving a sweet trace on his chin that he quickly dries with a flick of his thumb.

You’re momentarily stunned, your heart caught between beats. San doesn’t break eye contact, and suddenly the air between you feels charged, like a wire pulled too tight. Your instincts scream at you to look away, to break the tension before it swallows you whole—but you don’t. You can’t. You wouldn’t even dream of it.

“Let’s dance,” you say, the words slipping from your lips with more confidence than you feel. San’s smile blooms, wicked and beautiful, and before you can second-guess yourself, he’s leading you into the crowd, his fingers still interlaced with yours.

Once you reach the center of the floor, San doesn’t hesitate. His hands find your waist, fingers curling around you with a firmness that sends a fresh rush of heat through your skin. The music thrums low and sensual, and without needing any more invitation, you start to move.

At first, it’s just you finding your own rhythm, letting the beat guide your hips. But San matches you with ease, his body moving against yours with a grace that leaves you breathless. It’s like he’s made for this, the way his touch seems to melt into you, every subtle shift bringing you closer until there’s barely any space left between you.

His body is a dream. And on top of that, he knows how to use it. Your brain really has a hard time processing all that it’s happening, but you don’t find it in yourself to care. You keep moving, your bodies swaying in perfect sync, the music’s rhythm melting into the charged heat between you. San’s hands roam over your body like he’s memorizing every curve, every line, as if he’s known them all along. And you let him. You let him touch and explore, your defenses slipping away with each lingering brush of his fingers.

Your hands find their place behind his neck, your fingers pressing against the warm, feverish skin there. It feels like fire, a burn that leaves you craving more instead of pulling away.

Your fingertips glide through his hair, slow and testing, and you catch the way his eyes flutter shut the moment you touch him. His breath stumbles, just for a second, and it’s enough to make something wild unfurl in your chest.

Taking it as encouragement, you let your hands dive deeper into his hair, threading through the silky strands with a confidence you didn’t realize you had. The delicate texture brushes against your skin, soft but electric, feeding your courage. Then, with deliberate pressure, you tug at a few strands, savoring the sensation of his hair tightening against your grip.

The reaction is immediate. A deep, guttural sound vibrates from San’s chest, spilling into the air between you with a rawness that makes your own pulse stutter. His eyes snap open, dark and molten, searching yours.

But you don’t back down. You hold his gaze, your hands still tangled in his hair, daring him to show you more of that unguarded desire simmering beneath the surface. You want him to break. You need him to.

“Was that on purpose, Y/n?” he rasps, his voice thick and unsteady, the sound of it rumbling from deep within his chest. His lips are so close to your ear that his breath fans over your skin, hot and tantalizing.

“I don’t know, was it?” you bite back, mischievous and sweet, teasing him. You love the way your name sounds as it leaves his mouth. He smirks, and you can’t help but do the same.

“Looks like I found myself a little brat,” he comments, clearly amused by your antics. “Think you can handle it?” you ask, and just to prove your point, you tug again, just a little harder, and the way his jaw clenches makes your head spin.

His eyes flash, that competitive spark flaring to life. “Oh, I know I can, little one. But now you’ve got me curious. Just how far are you planning to push me tonight? Just how much you think you can take?” As he talks, San’s hands never stray far from you, his touch alternating between gentle and possessive, like he’s trying to figure out exactly how much of you he can claim. Little does he know, he already has it all. But, to be honest, you like the idea of him working for it a little bit.

“Sannie,” you start, smiling at him and enjoying the way the nickname seems to get through his skin, “I can take it all. And more.”

“Fuck,” he groans, eyes closing for a second. You’re making him lose his composure, and you couldn’t be more proud of yourself. “You’re impossible,” he murmurs, but the way his eyes roam over your face, lingering on your lips, makes it clear he wouldn’t have you any other way. “I should’ve known you’d be trouble from the moment I saw you.”

“Yeah, maybe you should have. But it’s too late now,” you tease, your nails digging into the skin of his neck, probably leaving tiny red marks as you keep on touching him.

Before you can think better of it, your fingers trail down his neck, brushing against his collarbone before settling on his chest. His heartbeat thunders beneath your touch, matching the wild rhythm of your own. “San…” His name falls from your lips like a plea, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for.

But he knows. Somehow, despite not even knowing you, San seems to know exactly what you need, like he’s reading you with a precision that leaves you breathless. Maybe it’s because it’s what he needs, too. You like to think so.

His hands tighten around your hips with a bruising force, and you gasp, the blend of pain and pleasure coiling hot and restless in your chest. His grip is possessive, commanding, and the way he handles your body leaves your legs trembling.

“I could make you say it out loud,” he whispers, his voice thick and dripping with wickedness. “Make you ask for it. Maybe even beg for what you want.” His face is so close to yours, his words brushing against your skin like a scorching caress. Your heart slams against your ribcage, your pulse a frantic beat under his ruthless attention.

“But maybe later, yeah? Right now, I think you deserve a little reward.”

And then he kisses you.

There’s nothing gentle about it: just pure, unfiltered hunger and greed crashing into you violently. His mouth claims yours, desperate and demanding, and it feels like everything suddenly clicks into place. His lips are rough and consuming, his tongue sliding against yours with a skill that leaves you reeling. And you try, you really do, to seize control of the kiss, to meet his intensity with your own. But it’s useless. He overpowers you effortlessly, his dominance written in every movement, every searing touch.

He tastes like everything you’ve been craving and everything you’re afraid to lose yourself to. He tastes like danger. Like hope.

You claw at his shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle beneath his shirt, but it only seems to encourage him. He loves how desperate you are. His grip on you tightens, his fingers pressing into your skin with a force that leaves you aching and dizzy.

“You’re trying so hard to fight it, aren’t you?” he taunts against your lips, his voice a low, sinful rasp. “Pretending you’re not dying to give in. Pretending it doesn’t make you wet that I’m so much stronger than you. That I’m in control.”

His words sting, but you can’t deny the truth tangled within them. The way your body trembles under his touch, the way your pulse races at the sound of his voice, it all betrays you. Your own body.

“I’m not pretending anything,” you bite back, but even you can hear the waver in your voice. It doesn’t matter. Not really.

“No?” His lips trail along your jaw, leaving a trail of sinful kisses over your skin. “Good girls don’t lie.”

Your fingers curl into his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a ragged groan from him. You want to claw back some control, to make him feel even a fraction of the desperation he’s stirring in you.

“Never said I was one” you manage to say, breath heavy and tone not convincing at all.

“Oh, princess.” His laughter is low, charged with an amusing darkness. “Then I’ll just have to turn you into one.” A promise, a threat. The middle point, the perfect balance, the unbreakable intertwining of the two. Your chest rises and falls quickly, each breath you take feels almost solid, tangible.

In the whole room, there’s only one thing: San. San. San.

“I’ll have fun watching you try, then,” you reply, your tongue darting out to wet your lips just a bit. San loves the way you challenge him; it’s more than obvious by now. His excitement is as palpable as yours, and in the surrealism of what’s unfolding between you two, everything feels perfectly right.

“Come home with me, then. So I can prove you wrong.” San’s words cut through everything. He looks at you with something you’re not sure you can read. His eyes are dark, determined, but you catch a hint of hesitation and sweetness. Yours probably look the same.

It’s not like his request surprises you all that much, and yet, you feel completely caught off guard.

San’s hands don’t leave you, their warmth keeping you anchored to reality. His grip is firm, certain.

“I’m never wrong,” you say to him. It’s not a yes, not yet. San waits, patiently. You love that he doesn’t push, not even a little. “But maybe you’ve earned a little sympathy from me, Sannie. So I’ll give you a chance.”

He smiles. The reaction is immediate. His face lights up, and a soft giggle escapes your chest, too.

“You should be grateful we’re in a public place and your skirt is short, or I would’ve already thrown you over my shoulder,” he explains. You rise onto your toes and, with all the naturalness in the world, press your lips to his for just an instant. He’s caught off guard but clearly pleased by your boldness.

“Already feeling jealous, San?”

He rolls his eyes. Bingo.

He leans in, just enough that his breath grazes your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Keep talking like that and we won’t even make it to my place.”

Your laugh is soft, a little breathless. “And here I thought you had more self-control, San.”

“Self-control, y/n?” His smile is sharp, eyes darkening as they trace over you with an unapologetic hunger. “I have just enough to get us out of here without breaking all the rules. After that...” His gaze drifts down your body, then back to your eyes, voice low. “...I make no promises.”

You don’t bother hiding your smirk. “Then what are you waiting for, Sannie?”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. It’s like he was waiting for you to say those exact words. His hand finds yours once again, grip firm and impatient as he leads you through the crowd, the thrum of music and conversation fading to nothing.

Outside, the air is cooler, but it does nothing to dampen the heat sparking off of San. His fingers are still tangled with yours, and when he looks at you, you swear the city lights reflect his grin, sharp and electric. The moon touches his face gently, kissing his beautiful honey skin. Unreal. That’s how you’d describe him.

Then… it’s all hurried. He calls for a taxi, and you guys fight yourselves to keep your hands in place, trying hardly not to make a mess in the backseat of the car as a complete stranger drives you home. It’s- comforting. He tells you a little about himself: he dances. Teaches a class to kids to earn some money between his jobs as a dancer. Tells you you probably have seen him in some music videos in the past. Promises he’ll sing for you one day.

One day. The promise of a tomorrow.

Once you reach his place, though, there’s no time left for pleasantries. He holds your hands as he guides you to his door, and once inside his apartment the small talk dies.

Flames arise, and you’re ready to run through hell with him. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, San’s hands are on you, pressing you back against the wall with a hunger that’s only grown since that first playful exchange.

“I’ve been waiting for this all night,” he murmurs, voice thick and heavy. His eyes search yours, still checking, still giving you room to pull away. “Well,” you whisper, breathless and smiling. “Good things come to those who wait, right?”

The jacket he landed you falls on the ground, and he mutters a curse under his breath as he looks at you.

His lips are on yours before you even finish the sentence, though, all heat and intensity, the kind that leaves you dizzy and clutching at his shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping you upright. And maybe he is. So strong and perfectly built, his body is towering over yours, making you feel small and helpless in the most delicious way.

The kiss you share is ravenous, a desperate clash of tongues and teeth. His mouth claims yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. His tongue and yours twist and tangle, battling for dominance, as his teeth nip at your swollen lips. The small, unbidden moans slipping from your mouth only spur him on, his own growls of pleasure vibrating against you.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he groans against your lips, his voice thick and ragged. His breath fans over your skin, hot and impatient.

He doesn’t hesitate. His hands grip your thighs, lifting you from the ground like it’s nothing, pressing your body flush against his. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, your hips grinding against his without thought or restraint. You can feel how hard he is, the strained bulge of his pants rubbing between your legs, igniting heat that leaves you trembling. Your skirt rides up, leaving you scandalously exposed to him, and you catch the wicked glint in his eyes as he notices.

“Impatient,” you murmur, but your voice is breathless, betraying your own eagerness. His mouth finds your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin before sucking hard enough to leave you shivering. His grip tightens, his fingers digging possessively into your thighs as he carries you with firm, determined strides. You cling to his shoulders, the world around you a blur of shadows and heat. The only thing that matters is him.

He pushes the door open with his shoulder, his eyes never leaving you as he kicks it shut behind him. His bedroom is dim, but you barely register the surroundings. All you feel are his hands on your skin, his mouth teasing and tasting wherever he pleases.

“You have no idea,” he growls, his lips tracing along your jaw before his tongue flicks over your lower lip, drawing a shiver from you. “I don’t know how I stopped myself from lifting your skirt and fucking you on the dance floor in front of everyone.”

“You should have,” you moan, hands rubbing at his shoulders. “I would have let you.”

“You can’t just say shit like that, fuck,” he groans, his desperation palpable.

“Look at you,” he murmurs against your lips, voice low and filled with something almost primal. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” You swallow, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as his mouth moves to your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His teeth scrape over your pulse point, a wicked smirk playing at his lips when he feels the way your body arches into him.

“San…” his name falls from your lips, a needy plea. It only seems to drive him further. You’d say more, but the words die in your throat, leaving space only to desperate little sounds that would make you blush in any other occasion.

“Say it again,” he growls, his hands sliding up your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin with infuriating gentleness. “Let me hear you. Say my name.”

“San,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire, your nails digging into his shoulders as you press yourself even closer, arching your back to try and get some friction, your core pulsing and your panties getting wetter by the second.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and then he’s moving again, carrying you effortlessly until you reach the edge of his bed. You fall onto the mattress, and he’s on top of you in an instant, his weight pressing you down, his body fitting perfectly against yours.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting this,” he murmurs, his voice rough and drenched in heat. “Every time I looked at you tonight, all I could think about was this. You. Spread out beneath me, exactly where you belong.”

“Show me,” you whisper, hands moving to grab his shirt and pull at it, working with the fabric to ask him to take the useless piece of clothing off. “Show me what you wanted to do to me, Sannie. You promised. You said you’d make me good. Fucking do it already.”

It was the right thing to say. “Watch your mouth, brat,” he bites back, looking at you like he wants to devour you whole.

San finally takes his shirt off, and what you see almost takes your breath away.

He’s perfect, so much that looking at him is almost painful. His skin shines like honey, his muscles are defined and imposing, and his body honestly looks like a wet dream come true.

San licks his lips. His smirk makes your head spin. He grabs your legs, moving your body around like one would do with a doll. He takes your boots off, and as he does that he kisses your ankles, looking at you in the eyes and sending shivers through your whole body. Your boots are soon forgotten as they fall on the ground with a loud noise.

You play with the buttons of your blouse, teasing him. One. Then the other. You espose yourself to his hungry gaze, anticipation mounting into you and making your hands tremble.

When it finally falls open, San almost rips it off of you. “No bra?” he asks, hands moving from your sides up to your breasts, grabbing them and squeezing, making you hiss in pain. “Dirty girl,” he comments, thumbs rubbing against your sensitive nipples.

You fight your own body, and force yourself to keep your eyes open as your hips move to meet his, your aching pussy begging for attention as you try and rub it against his clothed cock.

“Want it that bad?” he asks, pinching one of you nipples and making you almost cry out in pain. Tears pool at your eyes, and his hips are finally being pushed against your core, too. The length of his cock rubbing over your soaked panties.

You feel helpless, really. You want— you need him to touch you. You need to touch him. So your hands move frantically, trying to reach his pants and their button, your fingers rubbing against his bulge and making him hiss at the feeling. He lets go of your breasts, reaching for your wrists instead and stopping you from getting his pants off of him. “Good girls ask for permission,” he says.

Your eyes roll at the back of your head in frustration, and you try to escape his grip, but to no avail. He’s way stronger than you.

“Fuck, fuck, San, take them off. Please, wanna see you, wanna feel you,” you beg, way too impatient to get his cock inside of you to keep teasing him about it.

San smiles, “you can do better than that, can’t you? But this will have to do for now.”

You really wanna cuss him out, but you stop yourself when he starts to finally take those useless pants off, showing not only his bulge, but those sinful, strong legs of his. The sight is too much for you to take, so as you spread your legs wider, you decide to tease him some more.

You shift your hips, pulling up your skirt up until it’s resting all crumbled against your belly, exposing your wet panties to him. Your fingers start to rub against your own pussy with hunger, your clit begging to be touched and relieved.

San’s eyes go wide at the sight, and you watch as he grabs his own bulge in return, hips moving forward as he fucks into his own hand as he watches your pitiful attempts at pleasuring yourself.

“I’m so wet for you, Sannie,” you whisper, moans escaping your lips as you arch you back to get more friction against your cunt.

“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you? Fuck, look at that, Y/n… Pull those panties to the side. Show me that pretty little hole, yeah?”

“It’s all yours, Sannie,” you whisper, eyelashes fluttering as you grab the fabric of your panties and pull them to the side. Air hits your core, and the cold makes you shiver all over. Your hole pulses with the need to be filled, and your lips are glistening with the thickness of your arousal.

San’s eyes burn your skin. He seems completely lost in the sight of your pussy exposed to him. Enough that impatient starts to show off on him, too. He pulls his boxers down, and reveals his cock to you. “Fuck,” you moan, cause you just can’t help yourself. It’s long. Thick, with veins running through the length. The tip is such a pretty shade of pink, shiny with droplets of his pleasure. Your mouth waters at the sight, and your mouth starts to feel empty, too.

What you’re feeling is so intense it’s overwhelming. It leaves you stunned, breathless, your body feverish and desperate for relief.

For a fleeting moment, you think of Jaewon and everyone who came before him—how utterly insignificant they seem now, more than ever. How San is beyond their reach, and maybe even beyond the rest of the world’s.

Standing naked before you, San looks like a dream. Even you can barely believe it, as if he’s nothing but a mirage. But he’s not, because his breath matches yours, its warmth colliding with your skin.

A delicious reminder that, tonight, the most beautiful man in the world is yours. And if you have any say in it, you’ll do everything to keep him close.

But what you don’t see is how San’s eyes drink you in, reverent and hungry all at once. To him, you are the very thing dreams are made of—something precious, fragile, yet burning with a fire that matches his own. San’s world narrows to the space between you, his thoughts muddled and clear all at once: he wants to be yours just as fiercely as you want him to be.

It’s your resolve that breaks first, and you find yourself taking your panties off, throwing them at his face. He laughs, and you do the same thing. But his eyes never cease to hide darkness.

His hand grabs the fabric, and you see him mouth at your panties, lips running through the wet cotton. It’s so fucking dirty, that you can’t help but raise on your hips and pull yourself up, your hands reaching for his neck.

You pull him down with you, making him fall on top of your body. You kiss him through your own fucking panties in what has to be the most desperate, nasty kiss of your own life.

Spit mixed with your own juices, the texture of it all fucked up and weird in a way that makes you even more desperate. San growls against your mouth, his hands going back to your breasts first, before one leaves to trace your body up to your neck. You freeze as the loudest moan of the night leaves your throat, and the panties finally fall on the bed, now forgotten.

“You like that?” he asks, testing the waters. “What do you think?” you reply, forcing yourself to be a brat just a little longer.

“I think you like it. I think you want me to be rough, and that’s why you keep being a brat. You want me to make it hurt, baby? You just had to fucking ask.”

And then- then his grip gets tighter. Just as he pushes down his hips, your pussy welcoming his hard cock. The tip slides easily against your abused clit, and as breathing becomes harder, you find yourself spreading your legs even wider than before. “Look at you,” he whispers, laughing softly. “So pathetic, huh? Cock makes you stupid, little one. And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You want to deny, really. But I’d be useless. You both know it. So you do what you do best: you take. You take and moan and feel.

San seems pretty satisfied, and while he never lets go of the grip he has on your neck, his other hand reaches your face. “Open,” he orders, tapping on your chin. Your mouth falls open almost immediately. “Tongue out,” he adds. You obey.

“Good girl,” he praises, making you moan.

“If it’s too much- anything. If anything is too much, you tell me, okay?” Softness. His tone caressing you. You nod, you voice it out. “Yes,” you say. He nods, then he spits. He spits in your mouth, and you feel the thickness of it as the juice slides on your tongue.

“Make them wet,” he says. Then he pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth. His skin is both soft and rough: hjs body must require hours in the gym, and you don’t have to wonder why his hands have that weight to them.

“You like it, don’t you? Having your little mouth full. I can see it. You’re humping me like a bitch in heat, princess.”

His fingers get more rough: he rubs them inside your mouth, pushes them down your throat and makes you choke a little, the passage tight from the grip he still has on your neck. “W-wish t’was your cock,” you manage to blurt out, words slurred as your mouth gets filled up.

“Yeah, baby? Fuck, you’d feel so good choking on it. A little cock sleeve for me, your head empty as you only have to fucking suck and get messy for me.”

You nod, moaning desperately. He chuckles, and then your mouth is empty. But- but then your pussy isn’t. He takes those wet, shiny fingers down, and pushes them between your legs. He finds your hole easily, and those two fingers are pushed inside your pussy without care. It drags a loud moan from you, and San starts to fuck you with them immediately, curling them up just the way you love, his thumb rubbing at your clit.

“So tight, fuck,” he groans, leaving your neck. He raises a little, cause he wants to fucking look at the ways your pussy swallows his fingers hungrily. They disappear inside of you and your walls clench over them, trying to get them as deep as possible.

“More, more, please,” you moan, your hands replacing his as you touch your breasts before his eyes. “Shit,” he whispers. “You’re gonna kill me, baby,” he groans, the slide of his fingers loud as squelching sounds come from your hungry core. You raise a little and look down, too, desperate enough to want to have the sight of his hand glistening with your wetness engraved into your mind forever.

Pleasure builds up from all the arousal you’ve felt during the night, and you almost feel like crying as San takes pity on you and decides to rub more constantly at your puffed clit, his thumb making circular movements to help you reach your climax.

“G-gonna… you’re gonna make me cum,” you groan, fighting your own body to keep your eyes open. You want to see: him, his body, his face. Everything. “Ask. Be good, Y/n. Ask for fucking permission, or else.”

It’s too much. His tone, his stern voice, the threat lingering behind his words. You can’t take it anymore, and your whole body starts to tense up as your legs being to tremble uncontrollably.

“Let me- let me, please. Sannie, m’gonna cum, let me, please, please, can I? I can’t- I’m going to…”

“Cum. Fucking cum over my fingers, princess. Be a good little slut and make a mess for me.”

That’s all you needed. You fall back onto the mattress, pitiful moans leaving your mouth as you hiccup through your own pleasure. San keeps fucking his fingers into you, your orgasm seeming to never end as you comply to his orders and make a huge mess of the sheets and of his fingers, wetness gushing out of your reddened pussy as you clench hardly over his hand, sucking in his fingers as they own you from the inside.

He guides you as you try and gather some control over yourself. Your hair is a mess, your skin flushed red and nipples so hard it hurts. A thin layer of sweat covers your skin, and you can see that the same thing goes for him.

He pats you, fingers leaving your body: he gives your overwhelmed pussy a few light slaps, a weak scream leaving your mouth as pleasure and pain seem to electrify you all of a sudden, making you take deep hurried breaths to keep yourself grounded. “Made me so proud,” he praises, and as he does that he brings his own hand to his face, tongue moving sinfully as he licks his fingers before your eyes, moaning as you juices invade and dominate his tastebuds. “Such a sweet pussy,” he comments, and something seems to flash before his eyes like a sudden realization.

He bends over, folding you in a half as he moves you around by the back of you thighs, face disappearing in between your legs as he attacks your cunt, licking at the skin to clean your own mess up.

You grab onto his hair, pulling at it in the way he so clearly likes, and the tip of his tongue fucks into you a few times, making your head spin.

“Gonna… Sannie, you’re gonna make me cum again if you keep doing that,” you warn him, legs closing around his head as you can’t help but ride his tongue which is now torturing your clit. You’re all puffy and wet, and San shows you no mercy, moaning loudly against your pussy. You see that he’s basically humping the bed under him, and the sight is so dirty that it brings you painfully close to the edge.

“Do it,” he groans, “give me another one, princess. Squirt your juices on my face, wanna taste you.”

How could you deny him? You scream his name: both because he loves it when you do it and because there’s nothing else your mind knows apart from that right now. Just: San. San. San. And his fucking magical tongue, apparently.

The second orgasm of the night is as powerful as the first, if not more due to the extreme overstimulation. Despite the pain, it’s still insane. Your body trembles all over, and your eyes roll at the back of your head until San slows down, lazily lapping at your lips and at your thighs, cleaning them up. “Fuck, you’re so hot when you cum, wish I could stay trapped between your legs all fucking night.”

He keeps kissing your legs, allowing you some time to regain control over yourself. He bites, too. Sucks on the skin to leave what surely are gonna be pretty marks. He rubs his cheek over the inside of your thighs, and then he helps you out of your skirt, which was still all ruffled over your waist.

San looks almost possessed, chin wet with a mixture of spit and of your pleasure, a satisfied smile on his face that makes him look like the happiest man in the whole world.

“Kiss me, please,” you ask, eyes heavy as you make grabby hands at San, feeling vulnerable yet safe. He doesn’t make you wait, kissing you immediately. Your lips meet once again, and you don’t dwell too much on the reason why it feels so right to be kissing him, rather focusing on the way you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

“Please, Sannie,” you whisper against his lips, “Fuck me. Wanna get fucked so bad, please. Wanna make you feel good,” you add, moaning as you let out all the begging you had been keeping down.

“Precious, you’re so precious,” he grunts, licking inside your mouth as he takes your legs and forces them open. You lick your hand, spit covering your skin.

You’re touching his cock now, having it into your hand and tugging at it, hand sliding over his length and rubbing at the tip, making him moan and whimper. It’s a delicious sound.

“So big,” you comment, guiding San’s cock to your pussy. “Such a big cock, Sannie. Biggest cock i’ve ever had, baby. You’re gonna split me in a half. Gonna have to make it fit, Sa-“. He interrupts you, probably going crazy at the thought of any other man ever coming close to you.

He just— pushes inside. In one sinful stroke. No condom, just raw skin against raw skin, all thanks to you mentioning being on the pill on your taxi ride back home.

It’s insane, cause yours weren’t lies. He really has the biggest dick you’ve ever had, and it’s stretching you open beautifully. You feel it all the way inside your belly, and even to the point in which you could feel in your fucking throat.

“Take it,” he says, looking down at where your bodies meet, “take it all. Take my fucking cock, baby. Gonna be the last cock you ever fucking take. Gonna keep you, yeah? Gonna keep you all to myself.”

Should it scare you? You don’t know. But it doesn’t, cause that’s what you’re thinking too. You want no one else. After this, it has to be him. He has to be yours. You have to be his.

“Gonna- my cock. It’s my cock now, Sannie,” you reply, smiling happily as you get stretched over him, the tip of his cock reaching so deep inside of your body you can feel it hit your fucking cervix. It’s so good, you already feel yourself getting dumb from it. “It’s mine, all mine. And m’yours. Fuck me like I’m yours, Sannie. Ruin me, hurt me, anything, please.”

He won, after all. He won and you’re happy he did, cause you wanted to lose to him ever since the start of the night.

“You’re mine. My pretty princess. My beautiful little slut. I found you, huh? Not gonna let you go.”

And now he’s fucking you. His cock slides in and out of your body, balls hitting you as he hurriedly moves inside of your throbbing cunt.

His forehead glistens with sweat, and you move your head to slide your tongue over the skin of his neck, the taste salty yet sweet. You suck on the skin, feeling something primal that shouts at you to mark him up. He must like it, cause he buries himself deeper inside of you as you lap and bite at his neck.

“Harder, please… fuck me harder,” you beg as your nails run through his back, leaving pretty red marks on his skin. “Yeah? Harder, baby?” he asks, smirk appearing in his face alongside his pretty dimple, feline eyes burning into your skin.

While you nod, he leaves. He leaves you empty and begging, and you feel yourself on the verge of tears as soon as he does. But he’s quick to take care of it, and he manhandles you around, moving you around until you’re face down ass up on the bed, all spread open for him as your pussy spasms with the need of being filled up again.

San spanks you a few times, ass moving with the force of his hits. You moan out each time, pushing back against him cause you seem to never have enough of it. Grabbing you by the hips, San finally sinks down back inside your cunt, balls hitting your clit now, adding yet another feeling to the overwhelming mixture of sensations you’re feeling now.

“Let’s see,” he murmurs, and you bend your neck to be able to see the wicked expression he’s showing now. He grabs you by the hair and fucking yanks, making you cry out in pain as he practically bends you in a half, “you like it, doll? huh? pulling my hair at the club and thinking you could fucking get away with it?” he growls into your ear, tongue lapping at your earlobe and sucking it into his mouth.

“Say you’re sorry, whore. Say sorry for being a fucking brat, be a good girl.”

For a moment, everything spirals into madness: a fierce, unrelenting overload of emotions and sensations. Tears stream from your glossy, reddened eyes, your face a wreck of smudged makeup, ruined and raw. Your mouth hangs open, a thin trail of saliva connecting your parted lips to your chin. You are the very image of desperate slut.

And yet, it’s time to confess.So you nod, crying beautifully through the wreckage. “Sorry, sorry, San, I’m sorry,” you babble, a frantic litany of apologies spilling from your trembling lips, earning an amused grunt from him, who hasn’t stopped fucking you.

He’s rough with it, touching your body all over. Holding you up by the hair and making it hurt just like you asked, fucking his cock into you over and over again, the sound of it nasty and loud. He pushes you closer to your limit, stuffing your mouth full of his fingers and commenting on how debauched you look. “Filled up from both ends just like you deserve, baby. Happy? Yeah, look at that pretty smile of yours, princess. You just love getting stuffed, it’s so hot.” His words are filthy, humiliating, and they burn at the pit of your stomach, making your arousal grow bigger than your own self.

You can’t answer, cause your mouth is getting pulled open by his fingers. He’s fucking them inside, holding your mouth open and making you make a mess of yourself as spit falls from your lips and reaches your neck.

Right before it gets too much, he lets go, using the hand that was in your hair to push your face back into the mattress, pushing you down using his strength and making you feel extremely overpowered.

“Stay fucking there. You stay there and take it, you hear me? Take my cock, Y/n, you were made for it,” he orders, and you feel how he’s starting to lose control, too. His cock feels even bigger now, and as crazy as it sounds you can feel it pulse inside of you, rubbing against your abused walls.

He’s just using you at this point, using your body, your cunt— turning you into his personal flashlight as he chases his own release.

You want it so bad, and the thought of him finally dumping his load into you has you getting closer and closer to the third orgasm of the night. You’re drooling over yourself like a dog, moaning so loudly you’re probably gonna have do deal with a sore throat in the morning, but it feels so good that you don’t care at all.

San takes and takes. Gives and gives. Hurts you and destroys you and puts you back together all at once, owning your mind and body completely.

“I’m so close,” he warns, shoving himself inside of you without care, hands coming down to hit your ass, probably leaving red marks resembling his hands all over your skin. You nod, over and over again, begging him to give it to you.

“Cum inside, Sannie, inside of me please,” you start, and you get interrupted by him blurting out a “fuck,” so loud that it makes you smile with pride.

“You want me to fill you up, princess? Want me to blow my load inside your pussy? Breed you full?” he asks, running his fingers and nails over your back, using your hips as leverage to fuck inside your cunt deeper, your walls convulsing over his cock as if begging to have it as deep as possible.

“Yes, please, want you to cum inside, want to be full of it, want your cum… i’ve been so good, Sannie, give me my reward, please,” you beg, crying freely and using your own hands to hold your cheeks open, moaning loudly as it only makes his cock slide deeper.

You don’t even need to touch yourself this time, because the thought of him filling you up would be enough on its own to make you cum.

You feel the orgasm approach and you surrender to it when he grits his teeth and blurts out a series of curses, calling you names and praising you all at once as his movements become more erratic and violent. You feel your stomach bulging with it, the tip of his cock poking at your belly from the inside, and your eyes roll back as he fucking spits on you- droplets of it hitting your ass.

“Here it comes,” he warns you, chest rising fast as his legs tremble. “Take my fucking load. Don’t fucking spill it, baby. All inside this pussy, I’m- I’m coming inside of you, pretty. Fuck!”

His last strokes are languid and dirty, deep and full of ownership. He shoves his dick as deep as possible inside of you, and your spasming pussy welcomes it and milks it. Your own juices gush out as you cum all over his dick, your orgasm strong and powerful, and he pumps his load so deep inside your cunt you can fill every drop of it as it paints your insides white. Thick and hot, his cum gets pumped inside of you, claiming your pussy and marking it up as his once and for all. Staining you, messing you up, breeding you full.

He stills, staying inside of you for a little longer, feeling every second of his orgasm as you clench over him, enhancing his pleasure.

Your breaths are both heavy and ragged, bodies hypersensitive and buzzing with lingering warmth. San’s body collapses against yours, but even then, he’s careful not to crush you under his weight. Despite his own exhaustion, he moves you across the bed with ridiculous ease, still making sure to handle you gently.

He holds you close like he’s afraid you might slip away, and, truthfully, you find yourself doing the same.

Eventually, he gets you both where he wants: him lying on his back, and you curled up against his chest, which is still heaving with every fierce breath. San’s fingers slide through your hair, playing absently with a few strands, while you leave tiny kisses along his chest, your cheek brushing against his skin.

“That was…” you start, biting your lip and blushing a little, “…incredible,” you both finish at the same time, laughing softly as you cling even tighter to each other.

You feel his hand trail down your back, fingertips tracing random patterns on your skin. He tilts your chin up with his other hand, smirking just enough to make your heart skip.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he teases, eyes glinting with mischief. “I might just have to keep you all to myself from now on.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but your cheeks burn, and he catches it immediately. His smirk softens into a fond smile as he pulls you even closer, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead. You nuzzle into his chest, feeling his heartbeat still racing beneath your touch. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you whisper, half-challenging, half-reassuring. A promise and a threat, both interlaced with hope.

“Oh, I know,” he replies, voice dropping just enough to make a shiver run through you. “You’re mine now. Not letting you go.”

He kisses the top of your head, then leans down to murmur against your ear, tone both teasing and affectionate. “Better get used to it, princess. You’re stuck with me.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

notes: thank you for reading this! this is my first san fic… can you believe it? since he’s my bias and all. i hope you liked it, really. let me know in the comments your thoughts (the dirtier, the better). i hope you had fun! see you next time <3

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pyeongstarr · 5 months ago

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whoever anon is, if this reaches you, there's a rough draft of part 2. i've been thinking about pt 2 for weeks, i'm just now motivated to write it. i'll let you guys know when it's done. <3

#ateez #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #atinyblr #park seonghwa #ateez au #ateez fic #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #pyeongstarr ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

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pyeongstarr · 5 months ago

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this is adorable asl thanks for the tag @bananayuyu

& anybody who wants to join. 🩷

My picrew tinymon

I'll name her Fig! 🥰

You can make yours here

Tagging (no pressure): @edenesth, @wooyoungiewritings, @hwaslayer, @bunnakit, & anyone else who wants to do it

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pyeongstarr · 5 months ago

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THEY'RE FINALLY OFFICIAL!!! 😭😭😭 thank f*king god she's been jerking my man around for too long. 😭

just friends (4) - first bloom

pairing: san x f reader

genre: smut, angst, a bit of fluff

word count: 10.5k

warnings: MDNI, smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex

a/n: I hope y'all are enjoying, pls lmk your thoughts if you have any <3

<- previous part | next part -> | series masterlist | read it on ao3

10 Months Ago

It was shocking how easily the routine fell into place.

It was Friday and Saturday nights that you saw him; occasionally a Sunday, but rarely at first. You had tried your best to maintain your desire; no nights slept over, no goodbye kisses, no confessions of feelings or desires for more. You'd barely needed to discuss your sexual preferences; he seemed to know exactly what you wanted, knew just how to make you come undone in every possible way. And the knowledge of his obvious experience made your head spin; you couldn't decide if you found it unbelievably hot, or if the jealous streak inside of you couldn't bare it. You didn't really know where that experience came from; all you knew was that he had come here from Korea for college, and had been here ever since. Were there girls all the way back from high school that had taught him all this? Was there a perfect little Korean beauty walking the streets of Seoul who he wished was somehow here with him?

Your first love, that's who he made you think of, and it almost made you laugh, for they looked so unalike it was comical. But the feelings were all the same, the comfortability, the way he read your body so easily, and it made your heart sing much more than it should have given that he still was, as you'd wanted, just your friend. You couldn't stop imagining him in high school, how adorable he must have looked in his school uniform, how darling those dimples would have been on a young, small face. He was far too sweet for his giant frame and sharp features; it was almost embarrassing how he kept meeting you down in his lobby even after you knew your way around and could have easily come up yourself, or how he'd put a hand on your back when you exited the elevator and hold his other arm out straight against the door, just on the off chance that it might unpredictably close on you.

It was beginning to feel so light, so airy; it had been scary at first, the weeks sliding by as you waited and waited for him to ask you to be his girlfriend. But it never happened; he'd kept his word, and when it came up randomly in conversation he never wavered from his answer, always telling you he was totally fine with the agreement you had in place. It always felt too good to be true, but then again, he just did in general. You'd never expected a guy who looked like him would like you, much less meet you down in his lobby in front of anyone who may be there, introduce you to the sweet old lady who lived a door down the hall, or sing your praises to all who asked about you, even when you weren't there to hear it.

Above all, you'd never expected a man who looked like him to be so damn good in bed. Men like him didn't have to try; they had the world handed to them on a platter, could get away with the bare minimum. They didn't have to care about their partner's needs, about their partner's feelings, anyone's feelings, and yet he did, more than even you did, sometimes. Your sex was like the rest of your relationship; you getting everything you could ever want, and San feeling satisfied with whatever you threw his way.

It didn't seem so backwards, so unbalanced, then. He was loving it just as much as you were, this casual thing; work had been a pain in the ass lately, and he had been trying for months to transition to a different company, one that was smaller and run by a man he'd known for years. He actually trusted than man, unlike his current boss, and with all the waiting he'd been forced to endure, his massive backlog of patience and positivity was wearing thin. It looked like just another month of frustration and he'd be out of there, able to start fresh at the new company. But as he continued to endure those trying weeks, putting on a fake smile at work and pretending he wasn't about to leave without notice, he found the knowledge that he'd be seeing you on Friday a guiding star in it all.

Get to Friday, and I can fuck her brains out. That was the thought he had more often than he'd like to admit; he was feeling strung out, at the gym more than ever, needing any bit of release he could find. The relief he felt with you was unlike anything he could have dreamed of; from the moment he saw you up on that stage he was mesmerized, so jealous and in awe of your talent, his neglected artistic side jumping at the chance to talk to you when you'd made your way over with the table's drinks. As much as you couldn't believe his interest, he couldn't believe yours ten-fold; he'd spent his time in the States since freshman year of college knowing that a certain type of person wanted him, and would do just about anything to make him know. He'd been told countless times, that girl over there wants you, my friend wants to know if you like boys, that TA was totally making eyes at you. If he caught sight of these people in school or at parties they never looked remarkable to him; they were always beautiful, obviously confident, but there was rarely anything that really piqued his interest. He'd tried dating a few of them, because he'd wanted love; in the end it had always felt empty and unsatisfying, and at a certain point he'd given up the notion that he'd ever meet someone like that one girl he once knew.

It was in his theater classes, when girls were far more artistically intelligent than him, that he felt his whole body affected. It was people like you, people deep in the desire for true artistic expression, that really got him. Those girls never liked him back, though, never gave him a chance; they wrote him off as too pretty, as obviously in over his head. And they'd been right; he'd changed his major, done exactly what his dad did, what his brother did, what everyone had expected. His parents had rejoiced and so had his future bank account, but some little part of his ego was hurt by the fact that no one in those freshman year theater classes took him seriously or ever asked for his opinion. You were the first to engage him in conversations about musicals; at that party the two of you were lost in each other, stuttering and stumbling over words because you were speaking so fast. You took the time to talk to him and actually listen, you seemed to genuinely care to hear this thoughts and know his opinions.

Maybe being in the States had been a bit lonely; he was used to it, had always been comfortable moving about the world on his own, and liked his independence too much to ever want a massive group of friends or chaos they often came with. He liked his routines; the gym, eating right, and maybe a drink or two on the weekends to wind down and enjoy himself. He played games with his brother online when they could; he still called and talked to Antin a lot, texted with him almost daily, keeping up even though they now lived states apart. He talked to his Mom every weekend; she usually put his Dad on the phone too, and he always asked for updates about work. It was through his Dad that he knew the man he wanted to work for; it felt a little wrong that he knew he'd be getting this position because of the connection, but that was just how things worked in his world. He was thankful for his job, even if it had been a predictable choice; he was paid well, found the work reasonably interesting, and even at this huge company he wanted to leave he had found the beginnings of friendship with two of his coworkers, two that would be trying to jump ship to his new company just after he did.

It was you, though, that made his choice to stay in this city suddenly seem worth it. He'd loved this place when his family had lived here for a year in his youth; he'd been twelve, and totally dazed by the dry, flat desert, amazed by the volcanoes just outside of the city that he hiked with his Mom. The landscape was all at once rough and peaceful; just to the north were the hot springs, and around those many little spas and hotels had cropped up, offering a range of tiny to extremely expensive rooms one could stay in. The mountains to the East were steep and dry too, until one hiked about halfway up; then the forest would envelop you, countless species of birds and squirrels and bugs busy as they rushed about their little lives, calling to each other, ignoring any human who passed.

The city wasn't ludicrously huge, which he liked; the area around wasn't overly developed, wasn't so horrendously packed with people as Seoul had been, and the deep breaths he could get on the mountains or at the springs were breaths of space, of solitude, of true relaxation. There'd been no question in his mind all of high school that he'd go here for college; he knew leaving behind his whole family would be tough, and knew that despite how good his English was, he'd be stepping into a social world he knew nothing about. But it had always been worth it to him, even if it was trying at times; worth it all the more when you stepped into his life, when he finally discovered just how much theater and live entertainment this city had to offer, when he finally felt seen and understood and just simply enamored by this girl he'd stumbled upon so by chance.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" you'd said one Saturday, the two of you half naked and sweaty from all that had just transpired, your shoes still on. It felt wrong having them here on his living room carpet; you held your legs up awkwardly to avoid touching it.

"Of course," he replied with a chuckle, coming to grab them from your feet and put them away in his front closet, after stuffing himself back into his pants and throwing off his unbuttoned and creased shirt.

"Your friend Antin, I know you said he does drag, is he gay?" you asked.

"Yeah, he is," he answered, walking back to you on the couch. "Why do you ask?"

"I just was curious, I don't know much about Ukrainian culture or even drag culture, to be honest, but what I do know from working at the bar, it's not very common for a straight man to do drag. Though it does happen," you said. "Was he like, open with you about it right away? Or did it take him a while to come out to you?"

"He was open right away, Antin's that way. He doesn't hide that part of himself," he answered, sitting against the arm of the couch and stretching out his legs in your direction.

"Did you feel any type of way about it when he told you?" you asked, and he cocked his head to the side a bit, a look of confusion on his face. "Like did it shock you, did you feel in any way negative about it?"

"Not negative, no," he answered quickly, shaking his head. "It did surprise me, because I'd never known any gay person in my life before. Well, I knew there were gay people out there, but I'd never met someone who openly admitted it. There were these two girls at my high school that we all knew were dating, but they tried to hide it and..." he pulled his hands behind his head and sighed. "One time one of the boys told the head teacher for our grade that they were together, and then they denied it and started never sitting by each other anymore, and never walking together. It was such a stark change that we all wondered if we were reading the situation wrong."

"Oh shit, that's really sad," you said.

"Yeah, that boy was basically our school bully, he just did that to cause a problem that day," he said, and you frowned, silence hanging in the air a moment.

"I- I asked that earlier about Antin cause the first person I ever dated was a girl," you said, eyes snapping to San's, not sure why this was the moment you felt such a need to say it.

"Oh, really?" he asked back, his eyes a bit wide.

"Yeah. I just wanted to say something, in case it was something you had a problem with, I know I should have said that a long time ago given how important it is to me that you're accepting..." Your eyes left his as you trailed off, feeling momentarily self conscious.

"What was her name?" San asked with a small smile on his face, and your eyes moved to his face again.

"No, I don't want to tell you that," you said, your cheeks heating in embarrassment and tension.

"Why, did it end badly?" he asked, looking fondly at you.

"No, it ended cause she was going to college across the country and we just, couldn't fathom doing long distance," you said.

"That's exactly why my high school relationship ended too," he said, eyes wide in thought.

"Really?" you asked.

"Yeah, because I was coming here for college, she ended things with me," he answered, and there it was, confirmation that what you suspected was true. You looked across at him, his sharp jaw and glasses, and something hot and fiery shot through your gut, a need to know, a need to somehow claim your territory.

"What was her name?" you ventured.

"It's pronounced Gae-hwa," he said, surprising you.

"Pretty," you almost whispered, and it suddenly felt hard to take a breath.

"It means like flowering or blooming in Korean," he added, and your stomach just about flipped over.

"Do you still talk to her?" you asked, swallowing hard and trying not to show how affected you were.

"Oh no, she cut off all communication with me after I left. Then about two years later she reached out, but by that time my life had changed so much and I had moved on. And I was upset that she'd waited that long to say anything. It clearly just wasn't meant to be," he said, sighing slightly.

"Do you still think of her?" you asked, voice still low.

"No, I did back then, but that last time we talked I was twenty so, it was six years ago? A lot of time has passed," he answered you.

"I forget you're old sometimes," you joked, and he laughed and rolled his eyes.

"You know, you kind of remind me of her," he said crossing his arms in front of him.

"Oh my god, shut up," you laughed, shaking your head. "How the fuck do I remind you of a what, seventeen year old Korean girl? I'm sure she was so tiny and sweet and perfect, and I'm like mildly abrasive, a hot mess, definitely not tiny-"

"She wasn't tiny, she was your size," he said, and unmistakably his eyes roamed up and down your body.

"Oh, so you like girls with a little meat on their bones then, is that what you're saying?" you giggled, waggling your eyebrows at him. Your body had always been strong because of dance and the gymnastics classes you took growing up; your shoulder muscles were probably larger than most girls would want theirs to be, and puberty had brought on more weight in all the typical areas. It was not a body type you figured was common in Korea, but then again, you didn't really know anything about the country.

"I don't like people based on their bodies," he answered you, but you saw his lips turn up just the smallest amount in the corners, and his cheeks flush ever so slightly pink.

"It's okay if you do San, I'd be flattered to know I'm your type," you laughed, your own eyes snaking over his bare torso, his shiny watch and dark blue slacks making him look professional still, even with no shirt on.

He'd always prided himself on that; that he didn't judge people on their looks, that he tried with all his might to see the person inside, not just the body or face he was feeling or kissing. But there was one other way that your body reminded him exactly of hers; he'd been utterly shocked as a teenager the first time they'd had sex, just how good it felt to be buried inside her. Her parents had gone out for the night with no clear return time stated; maybe the ecstasy of it had been heightened by that, or by the fact it was his first time, his first girl, the first person he'd ever come inside of. That's what he'd thought for all these years since; never again had a cunt felt so good, so perfect. Until he had been buried deep inside you, and his brain nearly short-circuited, and he couldn't fucking believe his mind. There that feeling was again, so perfect and intense, even better than he'd remembered it being. Were you somehow even more perfect for him? He'd been baffled those two days you'd spent together, and if he was honest, since then, being buried inside of you was all he wanted to be doing.

That night he'd been at a work dinner; only the second of this kind he'd ever been to, one with a special invite, one that didn't involve the whole company. It wasn't hosted at the office, or at a restaurant nearby; instead he was at his boss's house, the East Heights mini mansion of anyone's dreams, complete with a pool and tennis courts as every house was in the area. He'd been at the company almost three years by then and was finally up for a promotion, just as he was working to leave; the irony wasn't lost on him at all. He had passed the line into the latter half of his twenties, and with that it seemed he was finally a seen as a man, seen as worthy. He'd had to dress up in his nicest work clothes this Saturday; a suit, the most expensive that he owned, and his glasses in tow, he tried his best to put on the perfect performance. Schmoozing with his boss's wife, with the managers of the company and with the two other men up for promotions as well, he'd made it through. He'd wanted to pull his hair out the whole time, wanted to be anywhere else but that massive dining room with its terrifying chandelier. He kept imagining it falling and smashing the table and guests to pieces; he kept imagining you, kept imagining what you'd think of his face all marked up and bloody from his attempts to escape the crash.

He'd called you as soon as he left, not able to wait a moment more; he needed to see you, needed to touch you, to feel you, to wrap himself in you and forget about the whole night. He'd realized something that felt a bit devastating that night; he couldn't just leave this job the moment he wanted to now, because leaving after a promotion so suddenly would so spectacularly burn this bridge that his career would inevitably suffer. The city wasn't huge, he liked that; but that also meant that there weren't that many tech companies, and with a small community his reputation as a worker mattered. He would have to endure a few more months of this, then come up with a good excuse as to why the new company appealed to him, knowing that it would still be possible he'd see this old boss around at events and meetings. He felt like he'd been using up every reserve he had this past month; now he realized he'd be running on fumes for the months to come.

But you, that was all he needed, and he could forget it all. You hadn't answered that call; you were still at work, your phone still in your locker, and he smacked his forehead in frustration at not remembering that. The dinner had run late but it was only eleven, and he'd have to survive the next hour and a half without you by his side. He busied himself at home with tidying his place, obsessively reorganizing his linen cupboard and the shelf he kept his cups and mugs on, both of which didn't really need the treatment. He was looking for anything to do; he couldn't look at his phone, couldn't bare to see the time passing so achingly slowly. He paced his apartment for a bit; he thought about hitting the gym, but he hated the crowd that was in there this time of night. Miraculously the time passed; his phone ringing harshly from the spot on the counter he'd set it made him jump.

"Hey," he answered.

"Hey, everything okay?" you asked, the sounds of traffic and laughter wafting in behind you.

"Yeah sorry, I totally forgot you don't have your phone on you at work," he said, standing with a hip against his kitchen counter, his entire suit still on except his shoes and jacket.

"It's all good, did something come up?" you asked, walking with Sasha and Bibi as they were making their way to another bar to cap off the night.

"No, I just wanted to see you," he said, and his voice sounded almost strained coming through the phone.

"Couldn't wait?" you asked, chuckling.

"Maybe," he answered, chuckling back, already feeling his pants growing uncomfortably tight. God, you'd truly wrecked his brain, and now that sweet laugh of yours would practically make him hard on the spot. It had been agony this last hour waiting for relief, and now that the relief felt so close that agony was only growing.

"I'll be there soon, have some patience," you joked again, saying goodbye, hanging up the call. You walked with your friends until they reached the club they were destined for; you hugged them both goodbye, then turned down the street towards San's place, your dress blowing in the gentle breeze of the blooming spring. It was getting so warm now that you didn't need anything over it; and now that you regularly wore no bra or panties when you went to meet him, your dress was the only piece of clothing adorning your body, the riskyness of potentially showing more skin than intended making you feel all at once grown up and so very stupidly young.

There he was in his lobby, as always; but this time he was hanging back by the elevators, his hands clasped in front of his crotch in a way you'd never seen as he chatted with the man at the desk. It sounded like he was teaching him how to say something in Korean, but as soon as he saw you his attention was on you, his body opening up, and you made quick work of crossing the room until you were next to him in front of the elevators. When you got on you saw why he was holding his hands that way; he was obviously hard, and unfortunately for him, his size made it pretty obvious to anyone looking. You laughed when you saw it, the two of you breaking into giggles of embarrassment, trying to calm your faces when an older man got on at the third floor. You stood awkwardly apart; he was exiting to floor ten too, so you both let him walk off first, then scooted behind him quietly and didn't say a word until San had opened his door and you both were safely inside his apartment.

"Hi, how are you," you laughed as you swung your purse off your arm, expecting more laughter from him, expecting him to take it from you like he always did. But you were met with a different San that night; as soon as the door was locked behind you his lips were on yours, and he pushed you up against it roughly, holding your face and your body as close to him as he could while he all but devoured you. Your reaction was instantaneous; your body was buzzing with need for him, overwhelmed by his forward nature. You didn't fight for a second when he moved the two of you slowly towards his couch, your purse slipping off your arm onto the floor out of sight, your shoes squeaking along the newly cleaned hardwood floors. He turned you around and bent you over the plush arm, your forearms resting on the cushion as he pulled up your dress without a second thought, parting your legs a bit and diving in, licking a fat stripe up your slit and making you shiver and moan into him. He wasn't holding back for a second tonight; you'd had enough of the talk for him to know this was fine. No butt stuff, and nothing violent without telling him first, that's what you'd said. That's all that you'd said. Everything else was fair game if he wanted it; he'd never been allowed to be so in control, so spontaneous and sometimes domineering.

It was alighting something inside him, there was no question; bent to his knees he was lapping at you, your taste more intoxicating than he could explain, the soft flesh of your thighs and ass against his cheeks driving him crazier. He wanted to devour every bit of you, to get so lost in it that he forgot every reason he was stressed; you were his relief, his solace from the reality of his less than perfect work life. You couldn't have come into his life at a better time; that was not lost on him one bit as he swiped his tongue in quick circles over your clit, making you squirm and whimper at the sensation, your head buried in the soft cushion beneath your arms.

He couldn't wait that night to make you come on his tongue; he was too pent up, way to hard to be able to stand it. He stood fast and slapped a hand against your right cheek, the ripples of the smack moving through the fat on your thigh, making his mouth water. You yelped in surprise, but your breath hitched with a moan; he let out a chuckle as he desperately undid his belt, slinging it to the floor without a care, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants in record time. He lined himself up with you, not even bothering to swipe the tip through your folds and tease you; you were already soaking from his spit and your own arousal, and he sheathed himself hard and fast, another slap landing on your ass as he bottomed out. You nearly came in an instant; the combined sensations twisted together in your core and threatened to send you over the edge, San hitting your cervix repeatedly as he unloaded all his frustration from the day on you, fucking you hard and fast, just how he liked it.

It wasn't long and you were spasming around him; he landed another slap on your ass and it was over, your climax hitting you, ripping through you so fast you couldn't quite believe it. Soon San followed you, tipping over his own edge; filling you fast with his warm cum, unable to take his eyes off the image of your cunt sucking him in over and over again, his cock glistening with your slick.

It was over and done with faster than it had ever been with him; you came up for air dazed, but it was a good sort of feeling, one of wonder and awe and amazement. You felt almost like you'd been used, and it felt good, that was the weird part; you looked back over your shoulder and felt like you were seeing a different person, San rapidly unbuttoning his shirt to give him some air, his chest flushed with all the heat he'd just created. The muscles of his chest and stomach rippled in the soft light of his living room; you nearly slipped from your position as you stared at him, genuinely gawking as you took it all in. It still hadn't sunk in yet that this man liked you; he was perfectly built, too perfect to be real, and confidence buzzed through your veins as you took in the fact that someone that gorgeous had been so desperate to see you tonight. It was so intoxicating, that amazement you felt, but just like all the other early feelings soon it would be dwindling, and leaving you shocked that it somehow started to feel close to normal.

A few minutes later, once you'd admitted everything about your past and your sexuality, it felt like a wall had come down. Suddenly you'd forgotten all your rules you'd made, suddenly you wanted to stay and spend the evening with him, to tell him all about your day and week and every thought on your mind. Not that you hadn't been doing that already. But you deluded yourself that you hadn't been; leaving right after your several rounds of fucking made it more believable in your head, but now as you sat and chatted, as you finally curled your feet underneath you on his couch, you knew something was changing. The session earlier had been too short, that was the excuse you wished you could use, but even you knew that wasn't the reason you said it.

"Do you wanna watch Oklahoma?" Your conversation had gotten too serious, it was bringing up too many emotions. Especially with the mention of San's ex, you were looking for any excuse to change the subject. You had been talking about the musical with him last week, singing 'I Cain't Say No' a thousand times over, and he'd mentioned wanting to watch it. Somehow he'd never seen it, even with being so interested in musicals himself.

"Okay," he nodded, smiling softly, moving over to grab his remote and turn on his TV. It took a while to find it, with it not being on a single streaming platform; he paid for it without a second thought, your eyes going a bit wide at his lack of hesitation, sitting himself back against the arm of the couch again and beckoning you to him.

It was your first taste of this, the calm and easy nature of just laying with him, the pure joy of singing songs to him and making his face light up in admiration. Now you wished you'd done this earlier; the perfect end to the week, pure fun making your head feel heavy with relaxation, your yawns coming much sooner than they normally did. Slack against him, you nearly fell asleep; you'd never been one to fall asleep during movies, you barely even noticed it happening, not until he shifted underneath you and you opened your eyes to the strange dream sequence playing on the screen, the absurd colors and lack of dialogue making you unsure if you really were awake again.

"This is so weird," he whispered in your ear, and you chuckled softly, murmuring your agreement. It was a strange sequence, one that had totally caught you off guard the first time you watched it; you knew none of the modern musicals he'd watched contained anything similar, and it was unbelievably fun to crane your neck up to watch his face contorting in every way, his reaction to the drawn out and strange scene more enjoyable than the movie itself.

Once it finished though, you were out like a light, and as San sat and breathed in the moment, his own body desperately craving sleep, he didn't know what to do. He knew you had your little rules, could tell immediately you had made a choice not to stay over, after that crazy first two days; but you'd never said those exact words to him, never outlined any exact feelings on the subject. It had been nearly two months now of your little arrangement, and as he looked down at your peaceful face and curled up body, his own brain exhausted from his stressful night, he knew he'd have to say something.

"Baby," he murmured, nudging you in the side.

"Hmm?" you mumbled, shifting a bit in his lap and trying to roll yourself back to sleep.

"Do you want to sleep here?" he asked, kissing your forehead.

"Sleep, sleepy," you mumbled with a nod, grasping onto his arm as he tried to move the two of you.

"I know, do you want to sleep here?" he asked again, but all he got was an incomprehensible word in response; he tried to move again, but this time you gripped onto him hard, groaning in clear frustration.

"I need... sleep," you murmured, trying to rest your head on him again, shifting your legs around under you.

"Here?" he asked, trying to move his leg out from under you.

"Stop moving," you cried finally, nearly climbing on top of him, not thinking for a second what it might be feeling like for him.

"Okay, okay," he sighed, looking around him. She's a lucky girl, he thought as he used his TV remote to turn off his lights, grabbing the blanket slung over the back of his couch and wrapping it around the two of you. He shifted you both down enough for him to be comfortable, shoving the closest pillow under his head, holding you close. He could tell you were already out again, even with his movement; it was only a few more minutes and he was out himself, totally exhausted, completely wrecked, not sure what you'd say in the morning but not having the energy to care.

"You awake?"

San's voice wafted through your thoughts, the end of your dream swirling to a close, everything feeling hazy. Suddenly it hit you; you were here still, and it was either the middle of the night or the next day, your groggy mind making it hard to tell.

"What time is it?" you croaked, your throat dry. You coughed, rubbing your hands over your face, your eyes itchy and watering with the allergies that spring always brought with it. You'd missed taking your pill last night since you weren't home.

"It's 11:15," he answered you, running a hand through your hair.

"Early," you croaked and he laughed, but turned his head as you coughed again.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Just my allergies, my throat is really dry," you groaned as you pushed yourself up, brushing your bird's nest of hair off your face, sitting up against the back of the couch. Your neck ached a bit but you had a feeling that was the allergies too; before you could blink a cetirizine pill and a glass of water were in your hands and you swallowed without thinking, sighing at the relief of the water.

"Thank you," you said, smiling up at him, the water finally waking you up a bit.

"You want some coffee?" he asked.

"No, I can't drink it," you answered.

"Oh yeah, sorry I forgot. I could make you some tea? And some toast and eggs too, if you'd like?" he ventured, squatting down in front of you.

"Really?" you asked, finally opening your eyes more and getting a good look at him. He already looked put together, had probably been up for hours at this point; this morning felt different, very different from the first time you slept over here, the weeks of getting to know him turning this into something heavy and significant, memories of your conversation from last night peeking through your brain now.

"Of course," he answered, nodding. You nodded in response, a short okay leaving your lips, and immediately he was off to the kitchen, everything being prepared so meticulously, it was like he'd done it for you your whole life. Hie eggs were somehow better than the ones you prepared for yourself; you looked at him with disbelief as you ate them, his face bright with a genuine smile.

"I just added some butter to them," he said, going to the fridge to grab the brand and show you.

"Oh, you have that nice butter," you laughed, seeing the label that always called your name in the store, the one that didn't seem worth the price to you even if so many people claimed it was more than delicious. Now it seemed they all were very right, and looking at him your guts swirled with jealousy, with satisfaction, with obsession and admiration, with so many other things you couldn't name.

You pounced on him once you'd finished, not caring what your breath smelled like; you pulled him onto the couch with you, straddled him and pulled at his pants until his cock sprang free, wrapped your mouth around it and worked it up and down, making him gasp in shock and pleasure. You worked him for a second before pulling up and straddling him again, lining yourself up; this was what you were really after, and your lack of underwear and by now completely crumped dress made it all too easy. You sank down, just rocking back and forth at first; the changes in pressure felt delicious in your core, and you pushed and pulled agianst his shoulders as you started to ride him harder, using your thighs to pick up your hips and move up and down too.

"Fuck, baby," he grunted in your ear, holding onto your hips for dear life as you rode him. It'd only ever been him in control up to this point, and though you weren't exactly dominating him right now, your desperation was making you do things you might not normally, your level of comfortability with him already so through the roof that you didn't care what he'd think.

"You only made me come once last night," you huffed through your moans, his cock repeatedly hitting deeper and deeper within you, your whole body exhausted from your movements.

"Not enough for you, was it?" he chuckled, his own breath labored as he tried not to come undone before you did; he could control it well when he had the energy, energy that he was sorely lacking last night, but energy that he had now.

"Nuh-uh," you shook your head, gripping hard on his shoulders as you smashed your mouths together again; the feeling of his tongue on yours added deliciously to the deep feelings in your cunt, and soon you were spasming hard around him, breaking the kiss to breath through the feeling, your head resting slack against his shoulder as you rode it out.

"That better?" he joked, stroking a hand through your hair, rubbing his thumb over your ear and making you shiver.

"Still not enough," you pouted as you still moved your hips slowly, the ghost of your orgasm still riding through your body, the potential to build another one obviously there.

"Give yourself another then," he said, and all your thoughts stopped for a moment, your brain completely focused on what he'd just said. It had layers, and you could feel them; it was obvious that that one little conversation about you wanting him to be in control had planted a seed in his mind, and you weren't sure if he'd read up on dominant and submissive relationships or if it just came naturally, but either way, he was playing it so well.

"I have to do it? You won't give me one?" you pouted as you rolled your head to the side, looking at him.

"You do it," he shook his head, eyes wide with confidence, his face completely self assured.

"Fuck," you muttered into his chest, his command making you start to flutter around him already; it was nothing huge, nothing huge at all, but something about his gentle nature turning more domineering was too much to handle, and immediately you started riding him again, pouting and pretending you were hating every minute of this while secretly your pussy was having the time of her life.

It wasn't much of a secret for long, though; you came again, twice, burning out your thighs to the point that you knew you'd be struggling to walk up stairs the next two days, but you didn't care. Once you'd all but worn yourself out he'd taken pity on you; a reward, it seemed, he flipped you over and fucked you until your both came hard, his mouth on your neck as he did, holding you down against the cushions of the couch and not letting you move until he wanted to. You were slack, shaky as you stood; you were grateful for his help, grateful that he took you to the bathroom and undressed you, set you in his huge shower on the small bench inside, washed you with ease and his fragrant shampoo.

Calm, too calm, you felt all too perfect as he helped you dry your hair, but this was relationship stuff, this was too much; your mind began to whir, never able to give you even a ten minute break break from your constant worrying. Your anxiety was always bad this time of year; something about the rushed time between late winter and early spring always had you on edge, and you knew that, but it was just so normal to you, your anxiety by this point a close friend. She was too strong of a voice in your head back then; you gave her way too much control in making decisions, in running your life. You dressed in a hurry and checked your phone like you were expecting terrible news; your obvious shift in mood was not lost on San, but he didn't know what it was about.

"Hey, can we talk for a moment?" he said as he noticed you buried in your phone, your purse slug over your shoulder, your mind clearly elsewhere.

"I really gotta go, I'm sorry," you said, looking him over, eyes snapping back and forth between him and the missed messages you needed to get back to.

"It would just take a few minut-"

"I know I'm sorry, I just realized I totally forgot I was supposed to be somewhere...." you trailed off, the terrible excuse tasting sour as it ran over your tongue, as you made your way to his front closet and grabbed your shoes. The past few hours had felt too much like something you'd been trying to avoid; somehow it was nearly four in the afternoon, the time making you feel unreasonably unsteady.

"No worries," he said as he followed you, watching you shove your feet into your shoes, the tongue of your left sneaker obviously scrunched up uncomfortably.

"I'll text you," you said as you unlocked the door, pushing it open.

"Can I walk you home?" he blurted, making you turn your head, take in his face again.

"No." It came out so fast, so harsh, it even shocked you a bit. He looked almost offended, and immediately you were scrambling. "I'm sorry if that sounded mean, I appreciate you offering, it's very nice, I just don't need that, I walk by myself all the time and I like it, and-"

Your words hung in the air, the two of you silent.

"I don't think it's safe," he finally said, like he'd been thinking it for weeks.

"Please don't worry about me San, I have been walking by myself at night around this city for years already, nothing's ever happened, I know what I'm doing," you said, voice snappier than you realized, your body shaking.

"You-" San stopped himself, sighing.

"What?"

"Nothing, just, will you text me when you're home?" he asked.

"San," you sighed, stepping further into the hall.

"I go crazy worrying about you," he said, running a hand through his hair.

"Don't say that," you sulked, turning your face away, your heart clenching.

You felt more confused than you had so far walking home, thoughts roiling back and forth between bliss and agony, your anxiety so bad even you could recognize what it was. You needed time to think, to reason with yourself, or something, you couldn't tell; how the fuck were you supposed to process all that had just transpired, the way you'd swayed between total calm and complete panic in the hours you'd spent with him?

You questioned it your whole walk, frantically texting Tina, smacking into a street sign two separate times on your way to her place. It was a lie, but you still typed it anyway. Got home safe, you said to him. He didn't need to know you were at your friend's apartment, didn't need to know that you'd be walking yourself back home for real later, in the dead darkness of that Sunday night. You were putting a wall up, just as one had come down less than twenty hours ago; you were good at this, good at keeping space between you and others when you needed to, good at keeping your peace. That was how you justified it, though you felt a little sick on your walk home. What if something did happen to me tonight? you wondered. But even still, it didn't feel like it should be his business; you'd told him no relationship, and he'd agreed, and that was that. He'd tried his luck at pushing back against your obvious boundaries, but you were too strong with them; it was how you'd always survived, never letting people in on the secrets of your life unless you really felt they deserved it. You and San weren't there yet, and you frankly hoped you'd never be; but you also knew something had changed that night, sleeping over on his couch, his soft hands scrubbing circles in your back in the shower, your skin smelling just like him for the next several days.

Present

It was 1:30pm when you finally woke, your body stiff and aching in every possible way, your head pounding, feeling like a knife had been stabbed through you, ear to ear. You audibly groaned as you rolled over, trying to find your phone; it wasn't on your charger like it usually would be and you groaned again out of frustration. What time you were up to last night, you had no idea; editing and rewriting the one song you both felt iffy about took you on a spree of creative invention last night, and by the time you'd sent everything over to your agent and curled yourself under your sheets, your nose was running and eyes were watering. It was too early for your allergies to be here, and it all seemed so strange; it made a lot more sense as you took in your completely stuffed nose, your forehead hot to the touch, your aching limbs.

You'd caught whatever Tina and Maya had and it was finally hitting you, your fever more discomforting the more you awoke, your increased awareness only making it more clear just how awful you felt. You scrambled around your bed to find your phone but couldn't; enough sudden worry coursed through you that you managed to sit up, stumbling your way over to your desk to find it on top of your computer. As you walked back to your bed you felt your legs trying to give out from under you; your right hip suddenly started to buckle, and you caught yourself just in time, collapsing half on your bed, half on the floor.

You sighed into your comforter, crumpling it up under your head like a pillow. You had a nagging feeling at the back of your brain that you were forgetting something important, but the aching in your bones and joints was making it hard to really think at all. You sighed deeply as you sat yourself down fully, leaning sideways against your bed now; it had been so long since you'd been sick like this, you truly felt panicked at how bad it was, at how hot your face and neck felt, how high your fever must be. You steadied yourself enough to pull up your phone, now seeing the time, seeing the missed call from your twin and several unread texts that always greeted you in the morning.

"Hello?" Micah's voice was strong as she answered, but it had the muffled quality it always did when you were on speaker.

"Hey," you croaked, coughing hard, the mucus in your sinuses making it's way down your throat.

"Oh god, are you sick?" she asked.

"Yeah, I guess I caught what Tina had," you sighed, sniffling in an attempt to clear your nose, your head still pounding.

"You have everything you need?" she asked, the distinct sounds of clinking dishes in the background.

"Yeah I'm fine, I've got meds somewhere. I was just returning your call from this morning," you said, running your free hand under your nose and wiping away the snot it collected.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay, our call last night ended quite abruptly," she sighed, water running and muffling the last word a bit.

"I'm sorry about that," you groaned, running a hand through your hair. It snagged on a tangle towards the back of your head and you pulled it out, wincing.

"Are you okay? You don't seem very okay these days," she replied, biting back another deep sigh.

"You're always so blunt with me," you mumbled, your eyes getting teary, but Micah just chuckled.

"Do you have a boyfriend you haven't told me about?" she bit out, another dish clanking after she did so, as if to emphasize her frustration.

"No, he's not-" you cut yourself off with a sigh, rolling onto the floor into a ball. "He's not really my boyfriend, but yes I've been seeing someone," you finished, sighing again, deeply.

"So you cut off a conversation with me to talk to this guy you've been seeing?" she asked, her voice coming through more clearly now, sounding like you weren't on speaker anymore.

"I'm sorry, I'm fucking sorry, okay? Things are weird right now, they're so weird-"

"They're always weird with you," she cut you off.

"I'm sorry I'm so stressful to love," you bit back.

"No, that's not why I'm saying that-" she cut herself off this time, letting go a sharp breath out. "I fucking love you and I hate that you're all the way out there where I can't see you-" she chocked back a sob, a small whimper escaping her lips.

"Hey, wait, where is this coming from?" you asked, momentarily forgetting about the pain in your limbs and head, your twin's tears so utterly unexpected. This wasn't like her, wasn't like her at all; gears were shifting in your head, you could feel them clunking clumsily, but something more resolute was happening, something solid was starting to build itself.

"I'm sorry, it's hard with you gone. And with Dad in the state he's in. He's doing bad, I know Mom and I never tell you that but he'd doing so bad and I wish you were here instead of where you are. And I'm sorry, I know you don't want to hear that," she spewed, sniffling at the end as she caught her breath.

"I- I'm sorry," you stuttered, sighing. Your eyes were squeezed shut, every little part of you locked up in inflammation and agony. But even so you felt some lightness building inside you, like being sick was making you see life from a new perspective, as silly and pathetic as that seemed. Was this how your dad felt every day, his joints and muscles aching constantly? And how had being away made you so able to forget everything? You'd been there, seen his sickness progress all of middle and high school. You'd seen his body start to shut down, to lock up, seen the looks of agony on his face. It had only been five years away and somehow it all felt like part of the past to you; it wasn't your life anymore, you'd moved away for a reason, as shitty as that was. Of course you'd moved to pursue your dream, and you could always use that as your explanation to people without receiving an ounce of doubt; but really you'd been running away from the pain, trying to get as far away from the reminder of your potential future as you could.

If one day you couldn't dance because your body was breaking down, you weren't sure you could survive it.

"I promise you, once I'm over this sickness and I can plan it, I will come visit," you told her, voice steady even with your stuffy nose.

"How soon do you think you can come?" she sighed, but this time it sounded like relief more than anything.

"Probably late this month, or honestly, probably early March I can come. I'll try to swing it around work, I'll come on a Sunday and head back Wednesday, something like that."

"Okay, that sounds good," she said, breathing more steadily.

"I'm sorry about everything, I know I've fucked up our relationship in a lot of ways," you said suddenly, more tears coming.

"It's not all your fault," Micah sighed. "I just wish things were like they used to be, I miss it," she said, silent tears snaking their way down her cheeks.

"I know, me too," you answered. "But I keep changing so much, I don't even know who I am anymore."

"Someone who hides her boyfriend from her twin?" she asked, making you chuckle.

"He's not my boyfriend," you reminded her.

"Is he leading you on but not willing to make things official?" she asked.

"No, it's- I think I'm the one who's doing that, honestly," you answered, and suddenly a sob wracked through you, the guilt of a thousand unfair nights with him crashing down on you all at once.

"You really have changed," she sighed through the phone, just listening for a moment. "If you feel so bad, why don't you stop doing it and just date him?"

"Get out of my damn head," you bit out through your tears, making her laugh loudly.

"I can't wait to see you, I'll make you your favorite rolls when you're here," she said.

"Stop, I don't deserve that from you. I'll do whatever you want, I can bring you those gummy candies from the German bakery," you said.

"Oh, yes please," she replied, making a noise of contentment. "Thank you for calling me back, I'm sorry you're sick. Rest up, feel better, I love you and I miss you."

"I love you and I miss you too," you croaked before ending the call, coughing hard after you did, then sneezing, a gross clump of snot falling onto your arm. You stood quickly in search of a tissue but nearly collapsed again; light headed you stood against the wall, waiting what felt like an eternity for your head to stop spinning, finally able to wipe your arm and blow your nose in earnest, the pressure relieving and painful all at once. Your conversation with your twin had you feeling better, at least a little; still, something nagged at you, and as you reached into your drawer of pills and grabbed your Tylenol, you desperately tried to figure out what it was. You checked that you'd actually sent the email to your agent; you had, nothing to worry about there, and suddenly realized your bladder was about to explode, so you quickly made your way to the bathroom. The apartment was dead quiet with your roommates all at work, Tuesdays always a day of solitary rest if you wanted them to be. It seemed relatively perfect timing given how sick you were feeling, and when you wiped you felt even more thankful for their absence, as you'd just started your period too.

As if on command your cramps started; why they hadn't hit earlier, you had no idea, for you had already been bleeding and had stained your panties and sweats quite badly. You'd already taken the Tylenol, but had to wait for it to kick in; you threw your stained clothes in the sink, grabbed a pad and made for your room, pulling out one of your already stained pairs of underwear and throwing them on, pad in tow. Just as you went to reach for some new sweats you heard the sound of knocking at the front door; it didn't happen often at your place, and immediately you ran to the peep hole, taking a look.

The last thing you expected was San's sharp face, his black hair, his sad eyes. In a flash you remembered what you'd been trying to all morning; tears threatened to come again, but you ran to your room, quickly found your phone and pulled up his contact, and hit call.

"Hello?" he answered as you walked back across your living room, his voice on the phone an echo of what you were already hearing through he door. Opening it, you saw his eyes widen, his hand not leaving his ear, just like yours wasn't.

"I was supposed to call you, and I forgot," you sobbed, a messy snotty mess falling from your nose, your bare legs shivering against the cool air from the hallway. Slowly you took your phone away from your hear, ending the call; you stood staring at him, a wall of confusion and hope and longing. "I'm really sick, I don't know if you wanna be near me right now," you finally said, stepping back to allow him in, now seeing his hands were both full with bags.

"I'm not losing you," he said after setting them on your coffee table, dirty dishes littering it and the kitchen sink, the messy state of your place feeling exposing, like it represented how you lived your whole life, messy and disorderly and without much care.

"What do you mean?" you asked, standing far away form him still, your exhaustion starting to hit you again.

"Come here," he said, holding his hands out, and you tried to walk towards him even as your knees threatened to buckle, using the couch as a support.

"I'm sick," you sighed, walking right into his open arms and curling yourself into him.

"I thought you might be, I brought you some Pho," he said, squeezing you into him.

"Sannie, you're too nice," you whimpered.

"Baby, I love you. I want to bring you your favorite things," he sighed, and the words hung in the air as your breath caught in your chest, your whole being frozen.

"Yes I just said that," he said, breaking the silence. "And I know you love me too, you don't have to fucking say it," he sighed, rocking you slightly from side to side.

"I can't believe you just said that," you whispered, eyes blinking as you still tried to process those three words.

"Be my girlfriend, officially," he continued, shocking you.

"Sannie-"

"You can only call me Sannie if you're my girlfriend," he said, looking down at you sternly.

"You call me baby all the fucking time!" you responded, mouth agape with shock.

"Yeah, because you don't see that as significant, but Sannie is significant to me," he said, holding your gaze, his face not faltering.

"I- I can't believe you just came here without even telling me-"

"You promised you'd call me," he cut you off.

"I only woke up like thirty minutes ago," you sighed, shaking your head.

"Was I the first person you called?" he asked, and anger roiled up inside you, enough that you pushed him away.

"No, it was Micah, and guess what? She told me to date you for real, almost like you two are conspiring behind my back or something!" you snapped, wiping more of the disgusting snot that was again pouring from your nose, your face no doubt a sticky, flushed mess.

"If I ever meet her, I'll have to thank her," he joked, letting you stand a foot away from him, not pushing you.

"Why did you do this?" you asked suddenly, sitting roughly down on the couch, folding your legs under your and putting your face in your hands.

"It was the only way I'd be able to have this talk with you," he said, crouching down in front of your covered face.

"But I'm fucking sick, this is bad timing," you replied.

"It's never a good time with you, baby, you never want to talk," he said, stroking a hand comfortingly through your hair, his actions juxtaposed with his words. "Frankly I don't care if it's the right time for you today, it's the right time for me, and things between us never get to be on my schedule."

"That's why I wanted things to be casual," you said, sniffling hard. "I'm not built for relationships."

"You basically spent all of January in my bed," he said, sighing, pulling your hands from your face. "You are built for this, you just don't want to admit it."

With a heavy breath you finally looked up at him again, his eyes swimming with thought, face contorted in worry. It had been the strangest hour; the strangest few days, now that you thought about it, and in no way was your mind able to keep up, able to make sense of anything. San, your boyfriend. Was that really something that you wanted? That you could handle? The words sounded terrible even rattling around in just your head, and you dreaded the sound of them coming out of your mouth; your obvious distain would be impossible to hide, even to a stranger.

"Do you really want to be done with me?" he asked, your stoic, hard face staring at him far longer than he wanted it to.

"You're giving me an ultimatum?" you asked, letting him hold your hands but not holding his back.

"Yes, I am. I'm done with this being casual. I'm your boyfriend in every way except title, and I'm tired of you saying we're just friends. We're not, we've never been. You know that, you know this was love from the first fucking day we met."

You sat completely frozen, your eyes locked on his, not an ounce of wavering or unassuredness in his tone. Tears snaked their way down your cheeks but you didn't sob; it was like it was impossible to move, impossible to look away from his face.

You had no fucking clue what to say to him.

"Sannie-"

He cut you off with a shake of his head, reminding you of what he'd said earlier about the special nickname.

"Answer my question. Are you ready to be done with me?"

But you couldn't answer it, so frozen your brain was, caught somewhere between panic and relief, his words gnawing at some deep part of you that you couldn't quite sense at all.

Curled up on your bed, a musical playing on the shitty screen of your laptop, you finally said it.

"Okay," you said, sighing.

"Huh?" he asked you, turning his head to the side to look at your face.

"I'll be your girlfriend," you said, voice wavering, eyes blinking. You weren't sure how you sounded; you weren't sure you were doing the right thing, saying it. But the look on San's face assuaged you; he pulled you to him, planted a kiss on your lips and then your cheek, and sighed with the deep relief you had hoped your answer would give him. It almost felt like you were giving in, and there was some relief in that; but where things were headed you had no idea, and no question your brain was scrambled eggs now that you'd caught the flu, every hour passing like it was only a minute, your life feeling less and less real as the night closed in on you.

It was being in his arms that made the answer come more easily; this, the sitting and just being, you couldn't lose it. Whether you could actually be a good girlfriend, you had no idea; it seemed that was for the future to decide.

next part ->

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