#choisanxreader

[armpirate]

Like We Were || Choi San

pairing: San x fem!reader || Forgotten love

w.c.: 15.6k

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, car sex, protected sex (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content), angst

Aprox. time of reading: 40 / 50 minutes

Summary: San's world turned upside down after the accident, but he felt it completely broke the moment he knew about your state. You forgot everything. Him, your relationship, everything you had built together... For a while, he thought letting go would be the best choice. The thought of him turning into a stranger after you two were each other's lives was something hard to handle. But living without you was a worst kind of pain. That was why, he'd help you remember, without you knowing the cute guy that you met at the bar was the person you hugged to sleep every night.

MASTERLIST

The music was loud -some mix of funky beats and synth pop- but San could still hear the soft clink of the ice in your glass from across the bar. You were seated at the far end, alone, just like that first time. Just like before. 

He leaned against the brick wall, half in shadow, fingers drumming a slow rhythm against his thigh. The denim of his jacket was worn in all the places your hands used to touch. You always tugged on his sleeves when you laughed, like he was something to hold onto. 

You weren't laughing now. 

You looked... calm. Pretty. Like nothing was missing. 

Except everything was. 

You didn't notice him. Not yet. 

And just like the first time, some guy, button-down open too far -smile too wide-, saw you sitting there and made his move. 

San stiffened, exhaling slowly through his nose. 

He'd timed it. He knew this was when it happened, when you got approached and rolled your eyes so hard he could feel your annoyance from across the room. He'd used that moment to swoop in, smug and playful, pretending to be your boyfriend just to get the creep to back off. It worked like a charm. You laughed, he stayed. And you two talked until the bar closed. 

It was the beginning of everything. 

So this had to work. 

He watched closely now, waiting for the same flicker of irritation on your face, but it didn't come. Instead, you smiled politely at the guy. Laughed, even. Tucked your hair behind your ear like you were actually interested. 

San felt the sharp stab of something he didn't want to name. 

The guy leaned in, too close, and San couldn't stay back anymore. He pushed off the wall and crossed the bar with purpose in his step, heartbeat hammering, sweat pooling at the base of his neck. He rehearsed his lines a thousand times in his head. 

Same as before. Same as before. Same as before. 

He stopped at your table, resting his hand on the back of your chair like it belonged there. 

"Hey, baby," he said, trying to keep it light, teasing. "Sorry I'm late. You didn't wait long, did you?" 

You blinked up at him, surprised. The man sitting across from you frowned, shifting in his seat. 

"Excuse me?" you said, brows furrowing. 

Your voice was soft, unfamiliar even in its familiarity. 

San's smile didn't falter. He had practiced it in the mirror, wanting to do it just like that first night. "You know I hate it when you start drinking without me" he gave the other man a polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Mind giving us a minute, bro?" 

The man looked between you both, clearly annoyed. But you didn't say anything. You just looked at San like he was an inconvenient glitch in your night, not someone your soul used to orbit around. 

"Whatever," the guy muttered, grabbing his beer and walking away. 

Silence settled between you and San, heavier than the bass vibrating through the walls. 

He expected you to be angry, confused. Maybe even impressed like last time. But instead, you stared at him with narrowed eyes and a bemused smile. 

"That was... bold," you said, tilting your head. "Do I know you?" 

The words punched the air from his lungs like a second car crash. 

Those were the words he was so scared to hear when he first knew of your state after the accident. 

He didn't visit you a single time you were in the hospital after you woke up, he was sure he wouldn't have been able to bear the idea of you not remembering him. He couldn't bear the idea of not being part of your life any longer. 

That was why he asked your friends to erase any trace of him from your apartment, from your phone... He was about to let go, until he thought that maybe that was his chance to start it all over again, to live again the beauty of falling for you, and you falling for him. 

You in that pub wasn't a coincidence. Not at all. 

He chuckled softly, looking down for a second to hide the devastation in his eyes. "Kind of," he murmured. "We've met. Once or twice." 

You looked at him for a long beat. Not with recognition. Not with love. But... curiosity. 

"Well, if you're going to crash my night, you might as well sit down." 

He blinked. 

You gestured to the seat across from you, and he moved slowly, cautiously -as if the world might fall apart again if he moved too fast. 

He sat. 

You sipped your drink, watching him over the rim of your glass. "So... is this a thing you do often? Pretend to be someone's boyfriend to scare off competition?" 

San let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Only when I'm desperate." 

There was a pause. You tilted your head. "And are you?" 

He met your gaze. For the first time in weeks, you were looking directly at him. Really looking. 

His voice was low, gentle. "I lost something important. I'm just trying to find it again." 

You didn't answer right away. You just stared at him, lips twitching like they were debating whether or not to smile.  And then -unexpectedly, softly- you did. You smiled. Not because you remembered. Not because you knew what he meant, but because something about him felt warm. Like a song you hadn't heard in years but still knew how to hum. 

"Okay, mystery man," you said, tapping your glass against his. "Tell me the story of that thing you're missing, then."

He looked at you, breath catching in his throat. And this time, he let himself hope.

You sat across from him, your finger tracing lazy circles against the condensation on your glass, looking at him attentively as he refused to talk about himself, to go deep in anything that wasn't the moment between you two. And it made you suspicious, but also curious. 

"So?" you asked, lips quirking at the corners. "Are you gonna tell me your name, or are we doing the whole mysterious stranger at the bar thing tonight?"

He smirked. 

God, it was exactly like the first time. 

That smug, amused curl of your lips, that cocky tone as you tilted your head. And he tried to mimic the way he reacted to it, mirroring your smirk. Only this time, there was something behind it. Something heavy in his eyes, buried just deep enough that you couldn't quite reach it.

"No names," he said smoothly, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "It ruins the fantasy."

You raised a brow, playing along without thinking. "Oh? And what fantasy is that?"

"The one where you fall in love with me for the night," he replied, not missing a beat. "No expectations. No promises. Just... this."

Your heart skipped, maybe from the way he said it, or maybe from the way he looked at you, like he was seeing more than what was on the surface. It was unnerving, but oddly comforting.

You didn't know him. But something about him felt like déjà vu.

"Hmm," you said, swirling the last of your drink. "Sounds like a line you've used before."

He chuckled under his breath. "Once or twice."

You narrowed your eyes. "Do I look like the kind of girl who falls for strangers in bars?"

"You look like the kind of girl who pretends she doesn't," he said, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Right before she steals the guy's lighter and walks out with his heart."

You laughed before you could stop yourself, and it caught you off guard. It felt... real.

"So you think you've got me all figured out?"

"Not yet," he murmured, gaze softening. "But I'd like to."

The words hung between you like a dare.

You leaned back in your seat, crossing your legs, testing him. "Then why don't you tell me something about yourself? Something small."

He hesitated. Not because he didn't want to, but because every answer he had was yours. Every story he could tell was tied to memories you no longer carried. 

So instead, he reached for a lie wrapped in truth. 

"I box," he said. 

You tilted your head. "Box?" 

"Yeah. Keeps me sane." he looked down, twisting his ring, a nervous habit he didn't even know he still had. "Started when I was fifteen. Got serious around twenty. It's... one of the only things I'm good at." 

"That's not true," you said quietly, before your brain caught up with your mouth. 

He looked up sharply, for a second, excited about you possibly remembering something. You blinked, confused at yourself. "I mean, you don't look like someone who only has one skill."

A small smile crept across his face. "You think I look talented, huh?" 

"I think you look like you think you're talented."

He let out a breathy laugh and pressed a hand to his chest. "Oof. Beautiful and brutal. You really haven't changed." 

You froze for a split second. 

"What?" 

"Nothing," he said quickly, waving it off. "Just... déjà vu." 

You stared at him, something prickling at the edge of your mind. That look again. Like he knew you too well for a stranger. Like he was holding a secret in his mouth, keeping it safe. 

"Alright, mysterious boxer," you said, sitting up straighter. "If we're doing this no-names thing, then I get to make up your backstory." 

He grinned. "Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah. Let's see..." you tapped your chin, pretending to study him. "You're probably a spoiled rich kid, dropped out of business school, got into the underground fighting for the thrill." 

"Interesting." 

"You can drive a car" you continued, "but you ended up with a motorbike because it makes you feel free. You say you hate attention, but you love the way people look at you."

He laughed again, but this one hurt a little. Because it was true. All of it. You were remembering pieces without knowing you were. 

"And what about you?" he asked, trying to push through the lump in his throat. "What's your story?" 

You looked down at your empty glass, suddenly quiet. 

"I don't know yet," you said, half-joking. "Still figuring it out." 

He swallowed hard.

"Then let me stick around a little," he said softly. "See how it turns out." 

You looked at him, eyes searching. Something pulled inside your chest, like the faint echo of a melody you used to dance to in the dark. 

"Okay," you said. "But no names. Just for tonight."

He smiled, genuine, heartbreakingly sweet. "Deal." 

And as the bartender slid two more drinks toward your table, San let himself fall into the lie a little deeper.  Because if he couldn't make you remember, he'd make you fall in love again. 

San had chosen the same quiet little café for your "first date", the place where you'd spent hours sipping overpriced lattes, talking about everything and nothing all at once. He'd kept it simple, just like that night. The table by the window, the soft hum of the city outside, the warm, golden glow of the café lights wrapping around the two of you like a blanket.

It was perfect, or it should have been.

He'd prepared for this moment. Everything was planned. Even the awkwardness that he had to recreate. 

But as soon as the waitress dropped off the drinks and San reached for his, he fumbled. His fingers brushed against the edge of the cup, and the entire thing tipped over.

Splash. 

The coffee spilled across the table, splashing onto his lap and soaking the front of his white shirt. San pressed his lips together, omitting the huge sigh after he managed to ruin the t-shirt you bought for him. 

On your first day, he wore one of his favorite t-shirts before he ruined it by accidentally spilling the coffee over him -which, later, would end up with one of the most touching gifts you'd ever given him: the same shirt, brand new and clean. 

He went through the same, although this time, it wasn't accidental. He spilled the coffee on purpose and he was wearing the same t-shirt you bought him. 

It had been so embarrassing the first time. The coffee had scalded him, leaving him with a red mark on his skin. You'd laughed so hard that night, teasing him endlessly as he frantically tried to clean himself up. 

But now, instead of laughing, you stood up, your face immediately flooded with worry. 

"Oh my God, San, are you okay?" you reached across the table, instinctively grabbing a napkin, your hands trembling slightly as you dabbed at the wet spots on his shirt. 

He watched you, caught between confusion and guilt. This was supposed to be fun. This was supposed to be a game. 

"You're supposed to laugh," he said with a nervous chuckle, his tone strained as he shifted awkwardly in his seat. "You always laugh when I do this." 

But you didn't laugh. You were too focused on him, on making sure he wasn't hurt. 

"San, you're burning up!" you looked down at his shirt and noticed the red splotch from the coffee. The way his face twisted in discomfort made something in your chest tighten. 

"I'm fine," he lied, wiping at the coffee stain with his napkin, still trying to brush it off like it was just another part of the act. 

But when you kept leaning forward, your eyes full of concern, he felt that same vulnerability creep up on him, the one he tried so hard to bury. The one that always came to the surface when you'd showed him a kindness that had no ulterior motive.

You didn't pull back. Instead, you leaned closer, your fingers brushing against his skin as you carefully checked the burn mark, trying to gauge how serious it was. 

"Please, let me take a look at it," you said quietly, your voice shaky with worry. 

San's chest tightened, and his heart hammered in his ribcage. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to make you remember. He was supposed to recreate the fun, the banter, the way things were before. 

But instead, he felt like he was falling apart in front of you. 

"Hey, it's really nothing," he insisted, trying to pull away, but your grip tightened. 

"No, it's not nothing," you said, your voice softer now, almost as if you were reassuring yourself. "This could leave a scar. What if it gets worse? You're not fine, San." 

He finally allowed you to inspect the burn, the cool concern in your touch contrasting sharply with the heat that still lingered on his skin. It made his breath hitch, but you weren't teasing him. You weren't laughing at his clumsiness. You were genuinely worried about him.

It was so... different. It wasn't the playful teasing he remembered. It wasn't the way you used to mock him for every little thing. You were taking this seriously, as though he was the important thing at this moment. Not the game. Not the memories he was trying to recreate. 

You met his gaze, your eyes full of something, something close to panic.

"Are you sure you're okay?" you asked again, more insistent now. "Maybe you should go to the hospital and..."

"No," he interrupted, his voice tight. "I'm fine. Really. It's not as bad as it looks." 

But you didn't seem convinced, still gently dabbing at his shirt, your touch careful and concerned, the weight of your eyes never leaving him. It made him feel seen in a way he hadn't been before. The memory of that first date -the teasing, the laughter- felt like something out of a past life now, replaced by a deep, undeniable care he didn't know how to handle.

"I think we need to get you cleaned up," you said, standing up. "Come on. I'm taking you to the restroom." 

He followed you, unable to hide the tightness in his chest, the way his pulse quickened. This wasn't the same. It wasn't supposed to be like this. And yet, the way you gently guided him toward the restroom made him realize that maybe... maybe this was better. The way you worried about him, your eyes soft but full of something deeper, made him feel like he wasn't a stranger to you. Even if you couldn't remember who he was, the connection was still there. Unspoken, yet undeniable. 

When you reached the restroom, you immediately pulled paper towels from the dispenser, and as you handed him a few, your fingers brushed his.  The smallest touch sent a shiver through his spine. 

"You're not making this easy," he muttered, his voice laced with that same nervous humor he'd used to cover his discomfort, but there was no bite to it now. Just a soft, vulnerable edge.

You gave him a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, but it was warm, and you were still checking him over. 

"I know," you said, your voice gentle. "But I need to make sure you're okay, San." 

And for the first time since everything had shifted, since the accident, since the loss of memories, San wondered if maybe, just maybe, you were remembering him in a way he could never fully understand. 

He was disappointed at first, but not anymore. 

It was late when you both ended up outside the apartment building. He had to pretend you were guiding him when, actually, he knew the steps there by heart. He could've easily been blinded and he still would've found his way to your door. 

The city buzzed quietly around you, muted streetlights casting gold halos across the wet pavement, the air still damp from an earlier drizzle. San walked beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his shoulder brushing against yours every few steps.

He was quiet. 

You were too. 

The kind of silence that felt almost sacred. Like something was waiting to happen. 

He'd walked you home. Just like that first night. After coffee and ruined shirts, after shy smiles and missed glances, he'd done exactly what he did all those years ago: offered to walk you back, pretending it was "just in case." Pretending he wasn't already hopelessly caught in your orbit. 

But this time, the orbit felt unfamiliar to you. You didn't recognize the gravity between you. Not logically. 

Only emotionally. 

There was something there. Something unspoken.

You reached the front steps, turning to face him, and he stopped just a breath too close. He looked at you the same way he had back then, like he was trying to memorize your features, like the weight of the moment sat heavy on his chest. 

"I'm not gonna ask to come up," he said softly, almost repeating the words he'd used the first time. "That's not how I do things."

You tilted your head. "But you want to come up, don't you?"

A small, surprised smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah. But... Eventually."

"Eventually... That means you're confident on a second date" you teased him. 

"I know there will be"

You both laughed, gently, though yours was more confused than amused. Something about that vibe felt familiar, like you had lived it before. Although you couldn't tell. Not clearly. It was like catching pieces of a dream you weren't sure you'd had. But the way your body reacted to him -how your heart raced, how the tips of your fingers tingled when he stepped a little closer- it made it hard to ignore the sense of déjà vu. 

He licked his lips, suddenly nervous. 

His mind started flooding with memories from that night. He kissed you for the first time there, while you were leaning against the railing, with that half-smile that always drove him crazy. A smile that told him you already knew what was about to happen, but you were just waiting to know if he dared to do it. 

He blinked at you, caught between then and now. Because you were the same person, but your eyes were sparkling differently from that night. There was something in your vibe that told him you weren't with him. Not completely. 

"I wish I could kiss you right now" he whispered out loud. 

And then, softly: "You wish... Is there something stopping you?"

His breath caught.

God, he wanted to. He wanted to lean in and kiss you exactly the way he had that night, slow and reckless, like he had nothing to lose. But this wasn't that night. This wasn't you. Not really. You didn't remember the tension, the stolen glances, the anticipation that had built up between you back then. 

You were looking at him with new eyes. 

And still...

You hadn't pulled away. 

He raised his hand slowly, brushing your hair behind your ear. His fingers grazed your jaw, tentative, reverent, like he was afraid he might scare you off. You leaned into his touch instinctively, and that one simple motion shattered something in him. 

So he whispered, "I'm going to kiss you now," and you nodded before he even finished the sentence. 

The kiss wasn't like the first time. 

It wasn't playful. It wasn't bold. 

It was quiet. 

Tender.

A question instead of a declaration.

San kissed you like he was saying please remember me, and you kissed him back like you were saying I don't, but I feel you anyway. 

Your hands found his jacket, gripping the fabric just slightly, like you needed something to hold onto. His thumb brushed against your cheek. You melted into him, the city and the night and the world dissolving around the pressure of his mouth on yours. 

And when he finally pulled back -breathless, eyes wide and glassy- you stayed close, your forehead pressing against his, like it was the only place in the world that made sense. 

"That didn't feel new," you whispered, your voice soft and trembling. "That felt like... like I've done it a thousand times before." 

San let out a broken laugh, one that sounded suspiciously like a choked sob.

"You have," he whispered back. "You have." 

And for the first time, he let go of the script. Stopped trying to make you remember by recreating the past. 

"I mean, maybe... you dreamed about it" he corrected himself quickly, as soon as he was aware of the confused look. 

San sat at the end of the table, eyes fixed on the untouched glass of beer in front of him. The bar was the same. The booth was the same. Even the playlist hadn't changed much, still throwing out old songs that reminded him of shared nights, loud laughter, your hand under the table laced in his. 

But this time... your seat was empty. 

"You did it?" Wooyoung asked quietly from across the table, voice careful not to trigger whatever thread was barely holding San together. "You brought her here again?" 

San didn't respond right away. He dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly, the breath shaky and uneven. "It's where we used to hang out all the time. If there's a chance it triggers something..." 

Yunho leaned forward, concern etched into every line of his face. "You can't keep doing this to yourself, man." 

"I'm not doing this for me," San said too quickly, then caught himself. 

He was. Of course he was. 

He needed you to remember -not just for you, but because he didn't know who he was without you. And this version of you, this distant version who looked at him like he was just another charming stranger, it was slowly unraveling him.

"She used to sit right there," San muttered, tapping the empty cushion beside him with his knuckle. "She'd steal fries off my plate even though she ordered her own. Called it a 'tax for good company.'" 

The group chuckled softly, but no one really smiled.

"She used to kick me under the table when I made bad jokes," San went on, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "And whenever someone flirted with me, she'd hold my hand tighter. Not because she was jealous. Just to remind me she was there. And now..." 

He looked up suddenly, eyes rimmed with red.

"She is here," he whispered, "but she's not. She doesn't know she was my everything." 

No one spoke. Mingi reached out first, a quiet hand on San's shoulder. Seonghwa slid his beer across the table without a word, just as he had the night San told them you were in the hospital.

"I brought her here last night," San continued, staring ahead like he was talking to someone far away. "Sat in this exact spot. Tried to recreate the night we celebrated her getting that job at the museum. Even told the waiter it was her promotion night again. He just looked at me like I was insane, and I had to tell her it was an excuse to get a discount."

He laughed bitterly.

"She smiled at everyone but me." 

Another beat of silence passed. 

"Why don't you just tell her?" Yeosang asked quietly. "Tell her who you are. What you were to her." 

San shook his head violently, the muscles in his jaw twitching. "Because if she really doesn't remember... then it's not her choice to love me again. It's just pressure. A story she doesn't recognize. She deserves to choose me. Even if it means she doesn't choose me." 

His voice broke completely on the last word. No one had seen San cry in years, not like this. Not with his head down, fists clenched, eyes burning with grief that hadn't found closure.

Wooyoung reached across the table and grabbed his hand, squeezing once.

"We'll help you," he said quietly. "Whatever memory you want to bring back, whatever moment you need to recreate next... we've got you. Even if she doesn't remember yet, we do." 

San swallowed hard.

His voice was hoarse when he whispered, "The picnic. The one in spring. With the wildflowers."

Yunho blinked. "The one where you both got locked out of the car and had to hitchhike back?" 

San gave a weak laugh through the tears. "Yeah. That one."

The friends all exchanged looks.

"God, she teased you for weeks after that," Mingi smiled. 

San's eyes turned to the door. "I just need to see her laugh like that again." 

The air was soft with spring, the kind of day where sunlight filtered through a pale blue sky and the breeze carried the scent of blooming grass. A wide field stretched out before them, dotted with patches of wildflowers that danced like secrets on the wind. 

San laid the blanket down carefully, pressing the corners with rocks just like he remembered. Every detail had been replicated: the chipped thermos filled with cold brew, the half-burnt cinnamon muffins, the little Bluetooth speaker already playing the playlist he'd made for you back then. Even the weather was working in his favor like the universe just wanted things to work out. 

He glanced toward you as you stepped barefoot on the blanket, your shoes left somewhere in the grass. You looked peaceful -curious, but peaceful. 

"This is... beautiful," you murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Feels like déjà vu." 

San smiled, carefully setting down the sandwiches. "You... I mean, a friend said that exact same thing I brought him here." he lied.  

You looked up. "Really?" 

"Hmm." he plopped down across from you, legs crossed and heart pounding. "Y.... He also told me I'd probably forget the sunscreen and get a sunburn on just my nose."

You paused. "...Did you?"

He pointed to his nose with a sheepish grin. "Roasted like a marshmallow." 

But it wasn't any friend, it was you who warned him, and it was you who started teasing him for looking all red for days. 

A laugh slipped from you before you could stop it, and his heart ached at the sound. That laugh. That warmth. It was like watching the sun through fog. But something else was happening too, little things.

You hummed along to a song playing through the speaker, one that wasn't particularly popular. San had added it to the playlist on a whim, years ago. You shouldn't have recognized it. 

For a moment, it felt like everything was working out. Like he was making a good job on just reliving everything that happened. 

But then... the keys. 

He was about to whine about the car being locked out, but you stopped him before he could, swinging the keys in your hand up in the air. 

As he stood to throw away a crumpled napkin shortly after you arrived, you casually reached into the open car door and plucked the keys from the ignition where he'd left them hanging. You didn't even look twice. Just dropped them into your bag like it was second nature. 

San froze, confused about the sound. Confused about the fact that you had picked them up. 

"Hey," he said slowly, cautiously, "why'd you grab the keys?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"The keys," he repeated, nodding toward your bag. "You took them out of the car."

You hesitated, frowning faintly. "Oh. I don't know. Just... reflex, I guess."

San's chest tightened.

Because last time -back then- you hadn't grabbed them. He'd left them in the ignition, and you'd both realized hours later, after the car locked itself automatically. It was the beginning of a mini-disaster -your phone was dead, his had no signal, and the two of you ended up hitchhiking back with a couple of old farmers and a trunk full of potatoes.

It had been the most ridiculous, uncomfortable, hilarious afternoon of his life.

And now -this time- you had stopped it from happening. Without realizing. Without remembering. 

Something in you had changed the outcome. 

"Are you okay?" you asked suddenly, your eyes scanning his face. 

San quickly shook himself back to the moment, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I just... I was kind of looking forward to getting locked out again." 

You tilted your head. "Again?"

He grinned, half-teasing, half-choked with emotion. That was the first time you held his hand for more than five seconds without making a joke about his rings. But now that chance was gone. 

"I mean... getting locked out. That's it. Not again"

You stared at him, lips parted, like you didn't know whether to laugh or ask questions. 

But you didn't ask. Not yet. 

Instead, you reached out and grabbed his hand, quietly, gently. No jokes. No teasing. Just fingers threading through his, like you'd done it a hundred times before.

San swallowed hard and looked away, blinking back the sting behind his eyes.

"I really like being around you," you said softly, thumb brushing over his knuckles. "It's strange... but comfortable. Like... like I've missed you, even though I don't know you."

And with that, the tension in his shoulders gave out.

He didn't say anything.

He just nodded, eyes closed, clutching your hand like it was the only tether he had left.

"You don't need to lock us out of the car for us to spend more time together" and there it was, the teasing. "You should just... ask".

The sun had dipped below the hills after they both had finally chosen to stay there, painting the sky in deep purples and sleepy oranges. What began as an afternoon picnic had slowly turned into an evening spent inside the car, warm and close, with music playing softly in the background and empty snack wrappers strewn across the dash. 

San sat in the passenger seat, one leg propped up, his shoulder brushing against yours every time he shifted. Outside, the air had cooled, the windows fogged slightly with your breath and the temperature drop, casting a soft haze over the world beyond. 

You were both laughing, genuine and unfiltered.

"I still can't believe you tried to impress your professor with a meme," you giggled, hugging your knees to your chest. 

San groaned, burying his face in his hands. "It was intellectual humor. I was ahead of my time!" 

You nudged him, and he looked over -smiling, disarmed. 

He knew all your stories by heart, he swore he could tell them by himself. But he just loved hearing them from you again. 

There was something different in the air now.

The kind of quiet that only comes after hours of sharing too much. The kind where words run out, and the silence doesn't feel awkward. It feels close. 

The car had grown dark. Only the faint glow of the overhead light lingered, and the soft ambient music, now long into the playlist's more intimate side, filled the small space with low, lazy beats. 

Your gaze lingered on his profile.

Something in the way he looked that night -quiet, open, raw- pulled at something deep in you. Maybe it was the soft rasp of his voice. Maybe it was the way he looked at you like he'd seen this moment before, and had been waiting for it to happen all over again. 

You didn't speak as your hand reached for his.

He took it like he always had -with ease, like it was second nature. Like your fingers belonged between his.

"I don't really understand what's happening between us," you whispered, voice barely audible over the music. "But I don't want it to stop." 

San's breath caught. 

He turned toward you slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment -like he was caught between joy and heartbreak. 

"You don't have to understand it," he said softly, "just... stay in it." 

You nodded. "Okay." 

And then you kissed him. Not like strangers. Not like it was new. But like your mouth remembered the shape of his. Like your body leaned into his not with curiosity, but with longing that had been stitched into your bones. 

San sighed against your lips, his hand cradling your face like he was scared you might disappear if he let go. The kiss deepened slowly -lazy, warm, like hours of conversation had been leading to this single moment of surrender. 

Without a word, he climbed into the backseat, pulling you gently with him. Limbs tangled, laughter hushed as you maneuvered into the cramped space. The cold pressed against the windows while your bodies grew warmer. 

Clothes slipped away in pieces, not rushed -felt. And you didn't feel shy, you didn't feel nervous when his eyes fell over your bare breasts, because the comfort mixed with a familiarity you weren't sure how to handle. 

Good lord, he loved the way you always arched for him. 

San cupped your breasts, his thumbs momentarily twirling around your nipples as he leaned down to kiss you again. Your tongues tangled together, and the taste was so intoxicating but pleasant that you could only find yourself holding onto him even tighter. 

"It's the first time I like the taste of cigarettes so bad" you admitted out of breath with a smirk. 

His hands mapped your skin like it was familiar ground, his mouth following with reverence. He didn't worship you like someone new -he remembered you, in every soft kiss down your neck, every pause where he just looked. 

His lips went back to yours, crashing against your mouth as he dragged you on his lap, arms wrapped around your waist. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. 

His mind kept screaming, but he kept his lips sealed, forcing the kiss to grow even rougher as a way to keep those words from slipping and scare you away. 

"Wait... Let me..." you broke the kiss, trying to readjust yourself on top of him. 

Neither of you could help but giggle the moment you looked into each other's eyes as you shifted on his lap. 

With a hand on your neck, he pulled you into a new kiss, making sure his arms around you kept your bodies glued to each other. He groaned into the kiss when he felt your hand slipping in between your bodies to redirect him to your wet channel, both of you moaning as you pushed him into you the moment you lowered your hips. 

You weren't in love with him. Not yet. But your body moved like it still was. 

Your hips met his with the perfect depth and synch, like the two of you were dancing to a dance you had practiced several times before. 

And you had. 

San couldn't move his eyes away from you. His arms remained wrapped around your waist, just enough to pull your torso close to him and have his lips closing around one of your nipples, one hand teasing the other, while his free hand squeezed a spot below your ribs that made you squirm and moan. 

It was like he had studied your body, like his only aim was to make you feel good. 

"San" you moaned with a cracked whine. 

He swore he was going insane. He flipped the two of you over the backseat, resting his body in between your legs to pound into you, to angle his hips and make you lose control of your own body. One of your hands was on the window, the other on his shoulder. Yet he needed more. 

With a rough movement, he moved your hand away from the window to place it over his face. "Touch me, Y/n. I need your hands on me" he almost begged. 

And for that one night, in the backseat under a thousand quiet stars, San let himself fall again. Silently. Without hope or demand. Just the sweetness of closeness, of skin on skin, of your breath in his ear whispering his name like it still meant something. 

When it was over, tangled together under the soft cotton of his jacket, you fell asleep on his chest, heart steady against his. San didn't sleep. He just held you, eyes fixed on the ceiling of the car, wondering how long he could keep pretending that fate would give you back to him. 

For the first time, San didn't feel like recreating everything that happened between you two. It wasn't necessary. He was so caught up in taking the old you back, that he forgot about the possibility of him falling for you all over again under a whole different circumstance. 

Your relationship was bound to happen again. 

The next morning, the sun rose quietly. It didn't burst into the sky -it crept. Gentle and gold, seeping through the fogged windows of the car in soft beams that filtered across tangled limbs and rumpled jackets. 

You stirred first.

Your cheek was pressed against the bare skin of San's chest, rising and falling with every slow breath he took. His arms were still around you, protective and steady, and his heartbeat -low and calm- drummed beneath your ear.

You didn't move.

There was something safe about this. About waking up here, wrapped in a warmth that didn't feel foreign. Even though it should have. 

Your fingers shifted slightly, brushing against his ribs, and he tightened his hold just a little, as if even in sleep, he was scared you'd slip away. 

San was awake. 

He had been for a while. 

He hadn't moved, hadn't spoken. Just breathed you in and let the silence hold him. Let the weight of your body against his lull the ache in his chest to something soft, something tolerable. But even in this dreamlike calm, he knew it wasn't real. 

You didn't know him. 

Not really. 

Not the way you used to. 

Still, when you tilted your face up and blinked sleepily at him, your mouth barely parted, skin still kissed by the warmth of last night, San let himself pretend. Just for a second. 

"Hi," you whispered. 

His heart squeezed. "Hey." 

A quiet smile tugged at your lips. "Did we actually...?" 

He gave a soft laugh. "Hmm. We did." 

You leaned back slightly, your eyes scanning his features. The messy hair. The tired eyes. The little indent on his lower lip where he always bit when nervous. "I don't usually do that." 

"I know," he said gently, gaze never leaving yours. 

There was something in the way he said it -too sure, too knowing-, but before you could question it, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His fingertips lingered on your cheek. 

"You're cold," he murmured. 

"I'm not," you replied, but you didn't stop him when he pulled his hoodie over your head and helped you into it, even though it was far too big and still smelled like him. 

You let yourself curl into his side again as if you'd done it before. Like you knew how. 

Outside, the world was waking up: birds calling through the trees, the breeze rustling through tall grass. But inside the car, time was still. The windows glowed softly with morning light. Neither of you spoke for a long while. 

Eventually, you tilted your head toward him again. "I feel like I'm always a step behind around you." 

San swallowed. "What do you mean?" 

You shrugged, fingers absently tracing the tattoo on his arm. "Like you know something I don't. Like... I'm supposed to understand all this, and I just... don't." 

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned his face toward the window, eyes catching the sunlight like it might burn away the truth if he held it too long. 

"I guess," he said slowly, "some things just need time." 

You nodded, even if you didn't really understand. "Is it crazy that I trust you?" 

"No," San replied, his voice so soft it could have shattered. "Not crazy at all." 

And in that moment, you reached out and laced your fingers through his again.

No questions. No demands. 

Just skin on skin. A touch that said, I don't remember, but this feels right. 

San closed his eyes and let himself stay in the dream for one moment longer. 

The theater was quiet.

Not empty, just quiet. One of those midweek showings where only a handful of people were scattered across the seats, too far to hear or care what anyone else was doing. 

You sat next to San with a bucket of popcorn balanced between you and the sleeve of your drink pressed against your thigh. The previews flickered across the screen, too loud, too flashy, but neither of you really cared what movie was playing. 

He'd picked the film. Something fun. Light. Familiar. But you kept sneaking glances at him instead of watching. 

He looked different in the darkness. More relaxed. A little slouched. His beanie pulled low and a soft flannel shirt hanging open over his tee. It was almost domestic, comforting, the way he sat beside you like he'd done it a hundred times. 

Maybe he had. 

You just didn't know it. 

While the next trailer blared on screen, San leaned forward, checking his phone. Probably a text from a friend -you hadn't met any of them yet, but he talked about them often. Warmly. 

He always spoke like there were pieces of you in his stories, but never named them. 

You glanced over casually... and paused. 

His phone was dim, but not enough to miss it. There you were, on his screen. His lockscreen. It was a photo of you in the sun, squinting at the camera, wearing sunglasses perched lazily on your nose and a soft smile playing on your lips. You looked free. Happy. Head tilted back slightly like you'd just been laughing at something he said. 

But you had no memory of it.

You didn't remember the shirt you were wearing. Or where you were. Or him being there. 

Your chest tightened, breath caught somewhere high in your throat. 

It was just a photo. But it was proof of something bigger, something you couldn't quite reach.

"You okay?" he asked suddenly, turning to look at you. 

You blinked, startled. He must have seen your face. Or maybe the way you were staring at his phone a second too long. 

You nodded quickly, brushing it off. "Yeah. Just... tired." 

He didn't press, but you could feel it. That slight shift in his posture. That tension in the air like he knew you'd seen too much. Or maybe... not enough. 

He slipped his phone into his pocket and reached out, his hand brushing yours between the armrests. When you didn't pull away, he linked your fingers gently, grounding you with the warmth of his palm. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder. He smelled like something soft and earthy. Familiar. Like you'd worn his hoodie once, weeks ago, and the scent had never left your skin. 

"I like being with you," you murmured, almost a whisper.

San's grip tightened ever so slightly.

"I like being with you too," he said, voice hushed, almost cracking.

Neither of you watched the movie. You just sat in the dark, wrapped in something fragile and unnamed, with your face on his lockscreen and a hundred memories you couldn't see, but were somehow starting to feel. 

After the movie ended, you both chose to take your love somewhere else. 

You were back at your apartment now, San leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping on that awful canned iced coffee he swore by, while you sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through your phone. 

He was telling you a story, something about a prank his friend -Yeosang- had pulled at a wedding. It was strange, telling you a story you were once part of, as if you had never been there. But he had grown used to it. 

But your mind wasn't really on it, because the image had stuck with you.

The lockscreen. 

That photo of you on his phone. 

You chewed your lip and finally cleared your throat. "Can... can I ask you something?" 

San stilled, the can pausing mid-air. "Sure." 

You stood, walked to him slowly, and held out your hand. "Your phone." 

His brows lifted. "Why?" 

"Just wanna see something." 

He hesitated, just for a second, before unlocking it and handing it over. You navigated to the lockscreen, pulling it up again. Your heart gave a strange little flutter.

"This picture..." you started softly, holding it out between you. "Where did you find this?" 

San looked down at the screen like it was something fragile. His thumb twitched against the seam of his jeans. 

"That was... I scrolled through your social media, and I found it" his voice was careful while he came up with a lie. "I thought you looked great, so I just... took it. I can change it if it makes you uncomfortable."

"No, it's just... I was surprised after seeing myself on your phone" you admitted. "I didn't expect it".  

He nodded. "You don't mind it?"

You frowned slightly. "No. I actually look good" you teased with a chuckle. "I look happy there".

San swallowed hard, his gaze lowering as he murmured. "You were."

You studied his face for a long moment. Then your lips curved upward, just a little. "Your taste in screensavers is nice, I guess." 

He let out a soft chuckle, but the sound didn't quite reach his eyes. 

"Funny, though," you added, unlocking your own phone. "Mine's kind of similar." 

You turned your screen toward him. It was a photo of a man's back -broad shoulders, hair messy in the wind, walking just ahead of you. The setting sun behind him made it hard to see clearly, but the place... it was the same river. The same wildflowers. The same time of year. 

San stared at it. Everything in him stilled.

"That's... a coincidence," he said, voice almost too calm.

You nodded slowly. "Guess so."

But neither of you said anything for a while.

You left the photo up a little longer, as if trying to feel something stir in your chest. Some sense of connection. But all you felt was the silence between you -quiet, waiting, fragile.

Then San smiled softly, stepping forward and brushing your hair behind your ear.

"Maybe we just like the same places," he said gently. 

You tilted your head, searching his face. "Maybe." 

But as you leaned into his touch, your hand brushing lightly against his chest, you couldn't shake the strange flutter in your ribs, like a memory had tried to surface, only to slip beneath the water again.

"It was the lockscreen I had when I woke up" you frowned. 

San froze when he heard that confession, but he remained silent, waiting for you to speak, waiting for the next thing you'd say. 

"I haven't told you before... Well, it isn't something I go around telling" you nervously chuckled. "Some months ago... I had an accident. A pretty bad accident. I was in a coma for a few weeks, and when I woke up my mind was completely blank from the past five years and on. I didn't recognize my friends, or my workplace... I didn't even expect to be living here. But, somehow, that lockscreen was the only thing that made sense and gave me calm when everything was upside down. And it’s ridiculous, because I can’t see his face, or know who he is, but it just makes me… feel relaxed. Like nothing will be wrong". 

San felt his lip trembling. For the first time in weeks, he felt guilty. Because he left you alone when you needed support, because he abandoned you when you needed guidance, only because he was scared of his own feelings when you looked at him differently. And now, he was scared of how you’d react when you remembered things. 

"Why are you crying?" you scoffed, feeling your own eyes filling up with tears. 

"Oh?" he asked, brushing the reverse of his fingers against his cheeks, finding them wet. 

"You aren't feeling sorry for me, aren't you?" you asked, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

"Never, bunny". 

The nickname slipped from his lips before he could hold it back. And he noticed, the flash of surprise, the sparkle in you eyes under the tears. 

That nickname stirred something in you. 

"Bunny?" 

He remembered the way you’d always jump around when excited, the way you’d make small jumps instead of just walking or running, and that nickname made complete sense for him back in the day. 

"It's a nickname. It just... slipped out" 

"I like it" you confessed with a giggle. 

The sun was dipping low behind the skyline as San waited outside your office building.

He leaned casually against his Jeep, black hoodie pulled over his head, one boot crossed over the other as he scrolled through his phone. To anyone passing by, he looked like someone killing time -apathetic, detached.

But his thumb hadn't moved in two minutes, because his entire body was tense. Stomach in knots. Eyes flicking toward the doors every few seconds.

You were running late.

Again.

Which gave his mind far too much time to spiral.

He hadn't expected this part to hurt so much. Watching you build new routines that didn't have him in them. Smiling at strangers, coming out of buildings he'd waited for you a hundred times before -when he was your boyfriend, your ride home, your safe place. Now he was just... someone you were getting to know. And that should've been enough, except today, it almost wasn't. 

"San?" a familiar voice called.

He stiffened. His eyes snapped toward the sound, heart dropping like a stone.

It was one of your coworkers. Julie, maybe? He vaguely remembered her from a few parties, or maybe your birthday dinner. The two of you had once danced together after too much wine. She had no filter and a memory like a vault. 

She approached, smiling wide. "Oh my God, it is you! Wow. It's been a while. Y/n didn't say you were picking her up today... Are you two back together?" 

San felt his blood turn cold.

His mouth opened, then closed again. "I... uh..."

"She looked so lost after the accident," Julie kept going, oblivious. "But I always had a feeling you'd come back. You two were like..." 

"Hey, sorry," San cut in suddenly, eyes locked on the entrance.

You were walking out. Right. Now.

Shit.

"Can we not... talk about this right now?" he muttered, voice urgent but polite, already stepping away. 

Julie blinked, confused. "What? Wait, aren't you...?"

"I'll text you," he said quickly, already turning his back.

And then he was moving, crossing the pavement fast, intercepting you before your eyes could sweep over to Julie's side of the street.

"There you are," he said with a practiced smile, pulling open the passenger door. "Rough day?"

You blinked at the sudden warmth, distracted by the way he touched your lower back, guiding you gently into the car like he'd done it a thousand times.

"Exhausting," you muttered as you slid in.

He rounded the Jeep fast, hands tight on the steering wheel by the time he started the engine. You didn't notice the way he was breathing just a little too fast. Or how he double-checked his mirrors like he wasn't just looking for traffic, but watching to see if someone was still standing nearby.

"How was your day?" you asked casually.

San gave a small, breathless laugh.

"Almost perfect."

The drive was silent for a few minutes, until you broke the silence again, curiously looking at him while turning your body to him. 

"Do you know Julie?"

"What?" he nervously eyed you, his glance on you lasted less than two seconds. 

"Julie, you were talking to her before I got out"

San sighed, trying to come up with an explanation. "Oh, yeah. She's a friend of a friend. It's been a long time since I saw her last". 

Before you could ask more about it, he rushed to come up with a new topic that would distract you from the fact that he knew your coworker. And he breathed out, relieved, when you didn't fight back as you played along with his conversation. 

Three weeks slipped by like honey in warm tea -slow, golden, and somehow too sweet to be real. You and San weren't official, but something between you had rooted itself deep. You texted constantly, called often. He picked you up from work most days. You spent weekends together now: grocery shopping like old lovers, laughing too loudly in parks, falling asleep on his shoulder without even realizing it. 

And still... you never asked. Never pried about the way he knew exactly how you liked your coffee, or how his hand found yours in the dark before you could even reach. Just like you didn't ask why he was so against you meeting his friends, or how he didn't want to meet yours. At some point, you just assumed he didn't have any, and he just was too embarrassed to admit it.  Just like you accepted he was more of a homebody than someone who went out and about, since most of your dates were either in places with barely anyone around or in either of your houses. 

You didn't know why you didn't ask, maybe you were afraid of the answer.

That night, and after too much arguing, you finally managed to convince San on going out. The pub looked just like you remembered it: old brick walls, low golden lights, the constant hum of music and conversation thick in the air. 

"Déjà vu," you said, stepping in beside him. "This place feels... familiar. And I don't mean it because of the day you brought me here a few weeks ago."

San smiled, a little sad, a little hopeful. "It should." 

You glanced up at him, eyes narrowed. "Why?" 

He shrugged like it didn't matter. "It's just the kind of place that feels like a memory." 

You were led to the same table. Same corner. Same view of the bar. San even ordered the same drinks for you both, though you didn't notice that part. You were too busy scanning the room, trying to place this strange pull in your chest. 

"Have you been here a lot?" you asked. 

He took a sip of his beer, staring at the spot where, once upon a time, he'd stepped in to save you from a stranger's wandering hands. "A few times before" he said "and it kind of stuck with me."  

You smiled. "Because of the atmosphere?" 

He met your eyes. "Because of the person I came with." 

Your gaze faltered at the heat behind his words. You swallowed hard, suddenly shy. "She must've been special." 

"She still is."

You laughed awkwardly, not sure how to reply to that -if you were misreading the moment or if he meant exactly what your gut whispered he did. 

"Hey," you said, trying to shift the tone. "You keep saying all these mysterious, romantic things and then changing the subject. Should I be worried you're secretly married or something?" 

San grinned, but it was the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm not married." 

"But?" 

"But some things are hard to explain." 

You nodded slowly, reaching for your drink. "Well... I guess I don't need everything explained. Not if it keeps feeling like this." 

He looked up sharply at that. 

"Like what?" he asked. 

You hesitated.

"Like I've done all this before," you said quietly. "With you."

And San -heart breaking and healing all at once- only whispered back:

"You have." 

But you didn't hear it. Or maybe you just didn't let yourself.

So you smiled again, tilting your glass toward his with a playful smirk. "To familiar strangers."

San clinked his glass against yours. And for a moment, everything in him screamed to tell you the truth. But instead, he just said: 

"To second chances." 

As the night went on, you had shifted in the booth beside San, your hand brushing his every now and then, and neither of you moved it away. The world felt slower tonight, like it was holding its breath around you. 

The conversation had dipped into quiet comfort when a voice sliced through it, casual and familiar: 

"San?"

He turned quickly. A tall man with honey-blond hair and a denim jacket was approaching with a grin, Mitchell. You didn't recognize him, but the smile on his face said he recognized you.

And worse, he knew you.

"Dude! I didn't know you two were back together!" Mitchell laughed as he reached them, clapping San on the shoulder before turning toward you. "Y/n, you look good! How's your head, by the way? That whole accident thing was a shock for everyone..."

"Hey," San said sharply.

His voice was low. Controlled. But his hand gripped Mitchell's arm with a pressure that meant stop talking now. He blinked, confused.

You glanced between them, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Sorry, do I... know you?" you asked, trying to place the man's face.

Mitchell looked stunned for a beat. Then opened his mouth again to speak, but he was interrupted before he could make a sound. 

"She's not who you think," San cut in, voice firmer now. "You're probably confusing her with someone else." 

Mitchell's eyebrows shot up.

"What? San..."

San stepped closer to him, almost blocking you from view. "Drop it," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Please."

Mitchell froze.

And in that moment, something passed between them -something heavy, like grief and fear woven together. Then, after a pause too long to be casual, Mitchell gave a tight smile.

"Oh," he said finally, turning toward you. "My bad. You just... reminded me of someone. Sorry about that."

You laughed softly, but something about the exchange had stiffened your spine. "No worries. I get that a lot, apparently."

San's hand slid to the small of your back. Warm. Protective. A silent plea not to ask more.

You didn't.

Not really.

But as Mitchell waved goodbye and disappeared into the crowd, you glanced up at San with a quiet curiosity in your eyes.

"Is he an old friend?"

San smiled gently, like nothing had just happened. "Yeah. Known him for a long time."

You nodded slowly. "He seemed... surprised to see us together."

There was a pause. Just for a breath.

"Guess I surprise people sometimes."

"How did he know... about the accident though?" you furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him cautiously. 

"It's... that other person had a light accident, too. It's just a coincidence". 

A coincidence, again. 

You watched him a second longer before looking away. The conversation moved on, but the moment stayed with you. Like a thread you weren't quite ready to pull.

Actually, neither of you brought up that conversation for the rest of the night, not even when you were back in his place, like you always did with all the small details. You usually shrugged them off, swiped them off the carpet and forgot about them. But there were too many coincidences not to notice the huge bulge under the carpet in the middle of the living room. 

The room was quiet, too quiet. 

San's arm lay across your waist, his breath feathering warm against your shoulder, the rhythm steady, soothing. But your mind was anything but. 

Even in the dark, the memories -or lack of them- pulsed behind your eyes. You could feel the shadows of things just out of reach, a phantom touch on your hand before you moved. The way he smiled when he thought you weren't looking, the moments where you caught him watching you like you were something lost and he didn't know how to let go.

Your fingers grazed over the sheet as you slowly shifted his arm off your waist. He mumbled something incoherent, but didn't wake.

Barefoot and quiet, you slipped out of the bed and stood in the middle of the room, arms crossing over your chest, heart pounding like a second heartbeat.

Mitchell's voice rang in your ears."That whole accident thing was a shock for everyone..."

Another accident, where the main person also got hit on the head. 

"Back together".

And San's eyes, how fast they had darkened. How quickly he had shut it all down.

The question you'd buried for weeks finally pushed its way to the surface: Was he hiding something? Or someone?

Your stomach churned. What if he had a girlfriend he wasn't telling you about? What if this whole time, this strange intimacy you'd fallen into with him wasn't yours to fall into?

You were pacing in the dark before you realized it, your steps soundless on the cool floor. Back and forth. Breath uneven. Thoughts louder than your heart could handle. And then... thud.

You stumbled as your foot collided with something under the edge of the shelf in his living room. Bending down, your fingers found the edge of a small wooden box: worn, heavy with the kind of weight that wasn't just physical. There was something sacred about it. You shouldn't have opened it, but you did.

Inside were pieces of a life that didn't belong to you. And yet, they did.

A photo lay at the top. You, smiling in a way you'd never seen in the mirror. Your cheeks flushed, your hands cupping San's face like he was the only thing that existed. His eyes were shut in the photo, a smile tugging at his lips. Pure joy.

Your breath hitched.

Beneath it were dozens more. A photo booth strip of four blurry, laughing frames, a candid of you asleep against his shoulder, a selfie with his nose pressed to your neck, his eyes closed, and a faint lipstick mark on his cheek, you found one where your friends where also in the picture -and, by the way Yeosang was hugging San, you could tell they were close. And then, at the bottom, you found a familiar photo that made your stomach turn. You were wearing the exact same outfit of the picture he had as his lockscreen, and he was wearing the same clothes as the man in yours, same background... The only difference was that, this time, you two were together, kissing. 

You didn't remember any of them. But your heart... did. Then, tucked beneath the photos, letters.

You picked up the top one. Unfolded it with trembling fingers. It wasn't long.

You forgot me.

I smiled through it. You said "nice to meet you" like it was nothing.

It almost killed me.

But I'll wait.

I'll wait forever if it means you'll smile at me like you used to.

Your vision blurred. You blinked quickly. 

There were more. Pages of thoughts, of love, of ache. Some had dates, weeks ago. Some looked like they'd been written the day of your accident. One had a smear in the ink. A tear, maybe.

Day 9.

They said you might be able to hear me. So I'm here. Again.

I haven't left, not really. I go home to shower, sometimes. Eat if I remember. But I'm always back before sunset, just in case you wake up and wonder where I am.

I should've driven slower. I should've seen the turn. I should've...

You wouldn't be here if it weren't for me.

I replay it in my head every time I close my eyes. Your voice. The sound. The silence after.

I hold your hand and pretend you're just sleeping.

I talk to you like you'll answer.

Sometimes I pretend you do.

Everyone says to give it time. That you're strong.

But I know you're tired.

If you hear this, if anything inside you still remembers me, please, just come back.

I'll start everything over. I'll do it right this time.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Come home.

Your breath came in shallow bursts. Your knees buckled. It was like everything was turning around you the more you read. 

Day 37.

You opened your eyes today.

I should be there. God, I want to be there. But I can't. Not yet.

They told me you didn't ask for me.

That you didn't recognize anyone.

And I know it's not your fault.

I know it's the injury, the trauma, the healing.

But it felt like the last piece of me cracked open when I heard it.

How do I look at you and pretend we're strangers?

How do I sit beside you and not touch you the way I used to?

How do I call you Y/n when every part of me still aches to say baby?

I've spent weeks memorizing our history in case I had to remind you of it.

But now... I don't know if you even want to remember.

I'm scared. Not of losing you.

I'm scared you've already let me go.

Maybe I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe I'll walk past your door and keep going.

But I'll always be waiting, just in case something in you still knows me.

The box fell from your hands as you lost the last bit of strength to keep reading, the pictures scattered at your feet like a life spilled out. 

You were the girlfriend.

You had been his.

He hadn't just found you by coincidence. He had been waiting. Recreating. Hoping.

A quiet sound behind you broke the silence. Then his voice -rough with sleep, confusion curling in its edges.

"Y/n...?"

You didn't turn around, you couldn't. Not yet. 

San stopped, reaching for the switch to turn on the lights, wishing he had never done it in the first place. All the pictures he tried to hide were around your feet, all the contents of the box were exposed. "Baby?"

Your fingers curled around the corner of a photo -your face in it, laughing so hard your eyes had shut. San had his arm around your neck, tugging you against him like he never wanted to let go. The kind of moment that couldn't be staged.

Slowly, you turned. He was halfway inside the living room, shirtless, hair tousled, his eyes going from sleepy to wide open the second he saw what you were holding.

His mouth parted. But no words came out.

And then you whispered: "...It was me."

He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just looked at you like everything he had worked so hard to bury had been laid bare, and now, there was nowhere left to hide.

You looked down at the photo again, your fingers brushed the smile you didn't remember, but somehow still felt. 

"I was the one you were waiting for."

His throat bobbed. You were crying now, but it didn't feel heavy. It felt like truth cracking open, like light breaking in. 

"Why didn't you just tell me?" you whispered. 

San swallowed hard. And finally, he stepped forward -eyes burning, voice trembling, as he stopped right in front of you. 

"Because if I told you the truth..." he reached for your hand -hesitated- then wrapped his fingers around it, pressing it to his chest. "...I was terrified you wouldn't want to come back."

You didn't look at him. You couldn't. Your chest felt tight, each breath shallow and sharp.

"Why?" you asked, your voice low and sharp like a blade.

He sat up, the sheets slipping from his torso, pooling at his waist. "Y/n..."

"Why did you lie to me?"

Silence.

You finally turned, eyes wide and brimming with betrayal. "You were my boyfriend. Before the accident. Before I lost everything. You were my life, and you let me believe you were just some guy at a bar?"

San's throat bobbed as he swallowed. The guilt had already settled deep in his face.

"I didn't know how to tell you," he admitted. "I didn't want to scare you off."

"Scare me?" you repeated, voice cracking. "You didn't want to scare me, so you thought pretending none of it happened was better?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. You could see the words scrambling in his brain, but none of them made it out.

"You thought it would be better to lie to me? To manipulate me into remembering you? Not even to remember you, but to force your way back into my life" your hands were shaking now. "You robbed me of my own story, San. You made me feel crazy every time I caught something familiar in you." 

"I was terrified," he said finally. His voice broke around the edges. "You looked at me like I was no one. You smiled like we'd just met. And I... I was scared you wouldn't want to come back."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"That wasn't your decision to make," you said, each word clipped, each syllable deliberate. "You should've told me the truth. You, my friends... someone should've told me." 

"They wanted to," he said quietly. "I asked them not to."

You laughed bitterly. "Of course you did". You stopped for a second "Why don't I have anything about you in my h...?"

But you didn't need to finish the question to know that he and your friends had something to do with all of that. 

"My social media?" San just looked down at your question, knowing one of your friends also managed to delete the two years of relationship off the Internet. "Of course..."

"I didn't do it to hurt you," he rushed to explain, eyes pleading. "I just wanted to be near you. I thought if we could do it all again, if I could just feel you again, maybe you'd remember. Maybe your heart would recognize mine, even if your head didn't."

You stared at him, so many feelings surging at once it made you dizzy.

"I've been falling for you," you whispered, your voice tight. "Thinking this was new, something just beginning. I let myself believe I was starting something real with you. But it was just... a copy. Shit, San. Can't you see how fucked up all of this is?!"

He stepped forward slowly, as if afraid to shatter what little remained between you. "Y/n..."

"You let me doubt myself, San. Let me question why everything felt like déjà vu. You watched me struggle and said nothing"

He looked like he might fall apart right in front of you.

"I didn't need to be protected," you said, softer now. "I needed the truth. I needed support, help."

San's expression twisted with grief. "I didn't know how to live in a world where you didn't remember me. I didn't know how to be near you and not be yours."

"You know, there's something I remember..." your voice wavered.

He looked at you hopefully.

"And it's that you always will choose the easy path. Working with me to remember you meant patience, dealing with frustration and obstacles, while just living this lie was quick and fast. You just needed to do absolutely everything you did the first time, and it was done. You didn't give a fuck about my recovery, but about having me in your life in the way you wanted"

It crushed him. You saw it happen. You watched his shoulders fall, his chest cave.

You shook your head, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Now all I feel is that every moment between us lately was a lie. And I don't know how to trust anything you say anymore."

He reached for you, but you stepped back. 

"Don't," you whispered.

The distance between you stretched, heavy with the things he never told you. You went back to the bedroom, and when you walked outside, you were already dressed with your bag hanging on your shoulder. 

"I need time," you said, already walking toward the door.

"Y/n..." he called after you.

But you didn't stop, and you didn't look back.

The café was quieter than usual, the kind of silence that didn't come from a lack of noise, but from something heavier. The clinking of cups, low chatter, even the hum of the espresso machine, it all faded beneath the weight of everything San hadn't said out loud in days.

He sat across from Wooyoung, shoulders hunched over a cooling cup of black coffee, staring blankly at the chipped ceramic like it held the answers he couldn't find in himself.

Wooyoung didn't speak right away. He never rushed San in moments like this. Just sat there, sipping from his own cup, watching him with that steady, quiet patience that only came from knowing someone too well.

"She's stopped talking to all of us," Wooyoung finally said, his tone low but careful. "You know that, right?"

San gave a tired nod. "Yeah."

"She won't answer my messages. She ignores Mingi. I think she even blocked Yeosang."

Another nod.

Wooyoung leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You think she hates us?"

"No." San's voice was rough. "But she doesn't trust us. And I don't blame her."

Wooyoung stared at him. "She trusted you, though."

A muscle in San's jaw jumped. "Until she found out."

"She found out because she tripped over a box full of the truth," Wooyoung said, more gently this time. "Not because you told her."

San rubbed at his face, hands dragging over tired eyes. "You think I don't know that?"

"I think you do," Wooyoung said. "I just don't know if you've let yourself know it."

There was a long pause.

"She asked me once," San said quietly. "If I had a girlfriend."

Wooyoung didn't respond.

"I told her no." his voice broke a little on the word. "I was lying straight to her face, and she looked at me like I was the safest place she'd been since the accident. And I just..." he swallowed, hard, "kept pretending I didn't know what that meant."

Wooyoung looked away, lips pressed into a thin line. "You were scared."

"I was a coward," San corrected. "I thought if I could just make her fall in love with me again, I wouldn't have to tell her how much it wrecked me to lose her. But she's not stupid. She noticed everything. The bar, the photo, the letters... and then I watched it all snap together in her eyes."

Wooyoung was quiet for a moment before he asked, "What did she say?"

San's laugh was low and sharp, completely humorless. "She asked me why everyone lied. And I said... I told her I was terrified she wouldn't want to come back."

He paused. Swallowed again.

"And the worst part?" he looked up, eyes wet, voice shaking. "She didn't deny it."

Wooyoung exhaled, leaned back in his chair. "She's hurt. Give her time."

"What if time's the thing that takes her even further away from me?" San whispered. "What if every day she spends without me is a step closer to forgetting everything we were?"

Wooyoung reached across the table, gripped his wrist. "Then you wait. You wait for as long as it takes. You loved her enough to lie, fine. But now, love her enough to let her be angry, let her feel what she needs to feel. That's the only way this ends in something real."

San didn't answer. He just nodded once, slow and hollow, like his body had finally caught up to the weight his heart had been carrying all along.

Meanwhile, you weren't able to go on. 

Just after you had asked, you had all of the memories from your relationship back in your house. Although they were inside a box you didn't dare to open yet. His words were enough to haunt the silence: "I was terrified you wouldn't want to come back."

The worst part was... he wasn't wrong. 

You didn't dare to open the box and dig in those memories because you were scared the feelings from the past wouldn't align with the feelings you had. What if you didn't love him back then? What if your relationship wasn't good shortly before the accident? What if...? 

You stood in the kitchen barefoot, wrapped in one of his hoodies that had been on the back of a chair, too tired to care if it still smelled like him. You hated that it did. That your body leaned into it, even as your heart tried to push away.

Your phone buzzed once. His name.

You stared at the screen until it faded back to black. A few more minutes passed before you turned it off completely.

You had trusted him.

From the first moment he sat across from you at that bar, with his cocky smile and flirty banter, you had leaned into the connection like you were meant to. And it felt like fate, hadn't it? The easy rhythm, the way he knew how to make you laugh, how he always knew just when to reach out or fall quiet. But it hadn't been fate. It had been a plan. His plan. A play-by-play reenactment of a life you'd already lived, without even knowing it. You'd fallen for him thinking it was new. Thinking you were choosing him, but he'd already had you. And he didn't tell you. He couldn't risk the chance that this version of you wouldn't pick him again.

That was the ache now, the hollow pit in your chest. Not just the lie, but the feeling that he'd stolen your choice.

You pressed your forehead against the cold glass of the window, blinking past the tight sting in your eyes. The street below was quiet, golden with morning light, like the world didn't care that everything inside you had shifted. Like nothing had changed at all.

You should have felt anger. And you did. But beneath it was something deeper and more painful: grief.

Because now every memory you'd made with him -every laugh, every kiss, every moment where your heart had fluttered- was tangled with the question: Was it ever really real?

And still, your body remembered the shape of his arms, the warmth of him in the middle of the night, the softness in his voice when he whispered your name like a prayer. You'd fallen in love with him again. That part was real. And maybe that was the cruelest truth of all.

Unable to keep that pain on your own, you finally called her. Jazmin picked up on the second ring. "Y/n?"

You didn't say anything at first, just breathed, your voice caught in the place where pain sat too deep to speak.

"Are you okay?" she asked, softer now, like she already knew the answer.

"I need to talk... Can you come?"

"I'm coming."

You didn't argue. Didn't try to sound fine. You just hung up and curled into the corner of the couch, knees to your chest, staring at the ghost of yourself in the dark TV screen. The reflection of a girl who didn't know who she was anymore. Not really.

When Jazmin arrived, she didn't knock, just stepped in like she used to, like her body still remembered where the spare key was and how your apartment smelled in the morning. She looked at you, standing there in San's hoodie, eyes rimmed in red, and said nothing at all, just wrapped her arms around you. And for a second, you let it break. The dam. The wall. The composure. 

You sobbed into her shoulder, and she didn't ask questions. Not yet.

"I thought I was going crazy," you finally said when the tears had dulled to hiccups. "I kept thinking, maybe I was the other woman. Maybe he had a girlfriend he hadn't told me about."

Jazmin pulled away just enough to look at you, brushing your hair from your face. "You were the girlfriend. You are the girlfriend."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

She hesitated. "He asked us not to. Said he wanted you to come back to him on your own. That if it wasn't real, if you didn't choose him, it would crush him."

"But what about me?" Your voice broke again. "What about what it's done to me?"

She flinched, and you hated that you made her look like that. Like this pain had spilled over into someone else's bones too. But you couldn't take it back. Couldn't shrink it.

"I needed to know the truth," you whispered. "I needed someone to tell me. Instead, I was just... living in this version of a life that had already happened. Like a puppet on strings I didn't even know were there."

"I know," she said, pulling you in again. "God, I know, Y/n. I wanted to tell you so many times. But he looked so lost. So afraid. We all thought he'd break if you didn't come back to him."

"Maybe I needed to break too," you murmured, pressing your forehead to her shoulder. "So I can figure out who I really am without everyone else deciding it for me."

Jazmin nodded. Her fingers carded gently through your hair. You stayed there, the two of you curled into a silence that felt like a bandage over an open wound. 

It had started to rain before you even realized where your feet had taken you. 

You hadn't planned on going anywhere after work, just a walk to clear your head. No destination, no headphones, just the kind of silence that city noise couldn't reach. And yet, somehow, you were standing in front of a café you didn't recognize... or at least, didn't think you did. Still, something about it felt familiar. Not in the "I've-been-here-once" kind of way, but in the way a smell can unravel a dream, or a song can feel like a memory even when you've never heard it before.

The little sign above the entrance read Moka, the white paint faded into soft gray along the edges, weathered but charming. Your fingers curled around the brass door handle before you could talk yourself out of it.

The bell chimed above your head as you stepped in.

Soft jazz drifted from speakers hidden somewhere behind the plants and bookshelves that crowded the walls. The scent of roasted beans, vanilla, and something faintly citrusy wrapped around you like a warm coat. It felt like stepping into someone's living room, like a place where stories had been left behind, carefully folded into the creases of napkins and coffee sleeves.

You let your eyes scan the space and saw it: the corner booth near the window with the chipped table and the crooked lamp above it.

It called to you.

You didn't know why you sat down. You just... did.

You took a breath, your fingertips tracing over the wood. A divot near the corner snagged your nail, like muscle memory. You pulled your hand back.

A minute later, the bell above the door chimed again. You glanced up casually, and froze.

San.

He stepped inside, brushing rain off his shoulders, his hair damp and sticking slightly to his forehead. He looked like he hadn't expected the weather to turn on him so suddenly. He looked like he hadn't expected you, either.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Then his eyes widened, and yours did the same.

"I didn't know you came here," you said, unsure why that was the first thing that came out.

He blinked, stepping in further. "I didn't think you even knew this place."

"I didn't," you replied. "I was just walking and... I don't know. My legs brought me here."

He gave a small, breathless laugh. Not mocking, just stunned. "Yeah. That... that sounds about right."

You both hesitated, hovering in two different worlds that used to be the same one. Then, without asking, he crossed the room and sat across from you. You didn't stop him.

You ordered two coffees, as if your hands remembered what your head didn't. Yours with oat milk and cinnamon. His, black with one sugar. You didn't realize what you'd done until the waitress left and San looked at you like he'd been struck.

"What?" you asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Just... you remembered."

You frowned. "I didn't. I guessed."

He didn't argue. Just gave a tired, tender smile and murmured, "Good guess."

The silence stretched between you. Not tense, exactly. Just... full. Like everything you hadn't said was sitting in the space between your cups, waiting for the right moment to rise.

You looked at him carefully. His eyes were heavier than you remembered. The curve of his mouth pulled more at the corners now, like he smiled less often. There were shadows beneath the tattoos on his arm, and tension in the way he gripped the edge of the table.

You stirred your coffee even though it didn't need stirring. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He stared at the chipped edge of the table. "Because I was scared."

"Of what?"

"Of ruining everything," he said. "Of trying to hold on to something that wasn't mine anymore. I kept thinking: what if you remembered and didn't want it? What if you didn't remember and I pushed too hard and it felt like I was trying to trap you in something you couldn't feel?"

Your heart twisted. "That doesn't make what you did okay."

"I know," he said instantly. "I know that. I lied to you. I took away your choice. I tried to rewrite something instead of... letting you read it again. On your own."

You watched him closely. There was no act. No polished version of himself. Just the raw, tired ache of someone who had held his breath for too long.

"And the accident?"

His eyes flicked to yours, and something flickered through them, shame, mostly. Pain.

"We were fighting. Some months ago, you started thinking of publishing the comics you had been working on, but I wasn't... supportive enough. I said they were a cute side thing, and it all blew after that" he said. "I... we started arguing, we weren't listening to each other, and the fight seemed to keep getting worse. It was raining. I slipped off the curb and..." he exhaled sharply, voice breaking. "The car didn't stop in time, I crashed against a tree, and you were the one who received the worse end"

You swallowed. "And after that?"

"I came to see you," he whispered. "Every day. For weeks. I sat beside you, read to you, talked to you even though you couldn't hear me. I brought you the cactus from your studio. I..."

You looked away, eyes stinging. "But when I woke up..."

"I stopped coming," he said, his voice barely audible now. "Because I thought... it would hurt less to disappear than to watch you forget me."

The words settled between you like ash.

"I didn't forget you," you whispered. "Not really. You were everywhere. In things I didn't understand. The way I reacted to you. The way I looked for you even when I was mad at you."

He watched you like you were saving him and tearing him apart at the same time. You exhaled, slow and unsteady. "You weren't a stranger, San. Not really. I didn't know why, but I kept choosing you anyway."

His lips parted, but no sound came out. Just a breath. Just gratitude.

The rain outside began to lighten, softening into a misty hush. Inside the café, the world had folded in around you: warm, quiet, intimate. Like the past and present were finally speaking to each other in the same room.

"Let me take you home," he said gently.

You didn't respond right away. You just nodded, slowly, carefully, like your body was making a decision your mind still hadn't caught up to.

He opened the door for you, and the wind brushed past you both. For a moment, you stood under the awning, watching the city blur behind rain. And then you turned to him and said, "You'll answer everything, right? If I ask?"

He looked you dead in the eye. "Anything. Everything."

And for the first time in a long time, when you both stepped into the rain and toward his car, it didn't feel like running. It felt like returning.

"What were we like... before the accident?"

He didn't answer right away.

You watched the side of his face, the soft twitch of his jaw, the way his eyes stayed locked on the road a second too long, like he was organizing memories in a drawer he hadn't opened in a while.

Then, slowly, he reached toward the glove compartment and pulled out a small leather-bound notebook, its corners frayed from use. He held it out to you without a word.

You looked down at it, frowning as you took it in your hands. The leather was warm, familiar. There was a tiny sketch of a cat doodled in the corner of the cover. Your sketch. You flipped through the pages.

Your handwriting.

Your drawings.

Short, messy notes written in blue pen. Dialogue bubbles. Storyboards. Scenes about a couple waking up late, arguing over grocery lists, dancing in the kitchen in their socks. Pages where the girl looked suspiciously like you, and the boy... well.

"Is this mine?" you asked.

He nodded. "You were working on it all the time. You said you wanted to make a comic about a normal couple. No drama, no perfect endings, just real life. Ours."

You flipped through the pages, stunned. You had no memory of drawing these, but the style was undeniably yours. Every detail made your chest ache with something you didn't know how to name.

"I don't remember any of this."

"I know," he said softly. "But you loved this project. You were going to publish it. You even had a name for it."

You looked at the front page. In your own messy cursive: "Monday Mornings."

A breath caught in your throat. You didn't even know why, but that title felt like something you'd once whispered in someone's ear, laughing under the covers.

"I didn't support you enough," San said suddenly, voice low and raw. "You wanted to take it public. You had this pitch ready, you were so excited. And I... I said we should wait. That, maybe, it wasn't the right time. I thought I was protecting you. I didn't realize I was just making you feel small."

You didn't answer, you just kept turning the pages.

A drawing caught your eye: the girl kissing the boy's shoulder while he made coffee. A heart drawn above them. Underneath, you'd scrawled:

"You always said mornings were cruel. So I made us soft."

Your fingers trembled.

"You said something before the accident," San continued quietly. "You said, 'Why does it feel like you're always patting my head instead of holding my hand?'"

You looked out the window. The trees blurred past in green shadows. Your heart thudded somewhere in your stomach.

"I never forgot that," he said. "I never stopped hearing it."

You closed the notebook and held it close to your chest.

He glanced at you, uncertain. "Are you okay?"

You nodded. But you didn't feel okay. You felt like you were standing at the edge of a memory that had just started to turn around and look at you.

The days blurred.

Not in the romantic way people talked about when they were in love, not in the way that made time feel like honey or sunsets. No, those days blurred like ink in water, like memory diluted until it left only a pale ghost of what used to be.

You tried. 

God, you tried. 

You woke up each day with hope clawing its way up your throat, searching the mirror for a spark, a flicker, something familiar in your own reflection. And sometimes, there were moments. A smell, a certain playlist, the way San's fingers traced lazy circles against your wrist when he thought you weren't paying attention. Sometimes it hit you like déjà vu, but soft, like the memory itself was holding its breath.

Other times, though, it felt like you were pretending to live someone else's life. Walking through a home filled with photos you couldn't remember taking, laughing at inside jokes you didn't really get, wanting to reach for San, only to stop midway, unsure if the heat in your chest was real... or borrowed from a version of you who no longer existed.

San didn't push. Not in words, anyway.

But sometimes you felt the weight of his gaze. Quiet desperation woven between the lines of his patience. And that's when it got hard. When it hurt the most, when you felt like you were failing both him and yourself.

That morning, you'd had another flash.

You had opened a kitchen drawer, reaching for a spoon, and your hand landed on a small, yellow plastic ring. The kind you get from a vending machine. For some reason, your breath caught. You had no idea why, but your fingers trembled.

You sat on the floor and cried.

San had found you there, and he didn't ask questions. He just sat beside you and held you close until your breathing slowed.

But he didn't say anything, either. And that was almost worse.

You both had grown used to that type of scene, where you just broke down and he held you until he made sure you were breathing properly again. 

Now, in the car, your fingers fidgeted in your lap. "I hate this."

He blinked. "Hate what?"

"This... in-between. Not remembering. Remembering too much. Never enough. It's like I'm stuck between two mirrors, and I keep seeing myself, but never fully."

He nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on the road.

"I'm trying," you added, barely a whisper.

"I know you are," he said. 

Silence again. Just the tires splashing over wet asphalt.

"But it's hard," you admitted, voice cracking. "It's hard needing space from someone who makes you feel safe. It's hard needing time from someone who clearly never stopped loving you."

He didn't answer right away. Just exhaled, slow and careful. "Do you know how many times I've almost told you everything again? How many times have I looked at you and wanted to say 'Just come back'? But I couldn't. Because if I pushed too hard, I'd lose you all over again."

"Sometimes it feels like you expect me to be her again. That girl I was."

"I don't," he said quickly, sharply. "I just miss her. That's different."

"Is it?" you asked. "Because it doesn't feel different when I look into your eyes and all I see is disappointment every time I get something wrong."

"I'm not disappointed in you..."

"Yes, you are!" you snapped. "Every time I forget something, you look away. Every time I hesitate, you sigh like it's breaking your heart."

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Because it is. But that's not your fault" his jaw flexed. "I know it's hard, but I never said you had to be her, that version of you. I love you. Now. Not just the version of you I lost."

You laughed bitterly. "But it's not that simple. You can say that all you want, San, but I see it. I see you looking for her in me. In every little gesture. Every place we go. You're always chasing the past. And I'm scared I can't give it back to you."

The air in the car turned cold.

He stared at the road, eyes dark. "You think this is easy for me? Watching you look at me like I'm a stranger, when I know what your laugh sounds like when you do something you like? When I still hear your voice every night in my head, begging me not to let you go?"

That silenced you.

His voice cracked. "I would give anything to forget how you used to love me, because maybe then, this wouldn't feel like being stabbed in the same place over and over."

You turned to him slowly. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. His shoulders were tight with things he wasn't saying.

You stared at him. "I don't know who I am anymore. What if there's nothing to go back to?"

The words cut deep. You hadn't meant for them to come out like that. But now they hung in the air, heavy and irreversible.

His jaw tensed. "So what, Y/n? You want me to let go? To pretend none of it ever happened?"

You pressed your lips together, looking away again, knowing there was something cooking in his brain before he happened again. 

"I'm not some villain in your story. And I'm sorry if it seems like I'm pushing you, but..." he stopped for a few seconds, getting some air back in his lungs "I'm trying to love someone who doesn't remember loving me. Do you know how hard that is? To have all these memories, all this history, and none of it matters unless you feel it too?" he took another deep breath, gulping down the knot in his throat. "But I'm not letting you go, I won't give up and I won't let you give up, because I'll be on every fucking step of the way. And if you don't remember me, then fuck it. We'll make new memories together that will be just as meaningful. But I'm not giving up on you, Y/n. I refuse to".

You hesitated, but you were thinking of the best answer to that. And just as you were ready to turn to him to speak again. It happened. 

CRASH.

The sudden screech was the only noise in your ears for a few seconds, the blur of headlights the only thing you could see. 

Your body snapped forward, seatbelt biting into your chest. San's arm instinctively flung in front of you, shielding, even as the car spun once and thudded to a stop against the guardrail.

Silence.

Rain tapped against the cracked windshield. 

You gasped, chest heaving, eyes wide as your hands scrambled to reach him.

"San..."

"I'm okay," he croaked, already undoing his seatbelt. "Are you hurt? Look at me, are you okay?"

Your lips trembled, but you nodded. 

He exhaled in shaky relief. His forehead had a small gash, bleeding into his eyebrow, but he was alert. Breathing.

"I'm fine," you whispered, touching his face. "You... you're bleeding."

He gave a strained laugh. "You should see the other guy."

You let out a sob that was half a laugh, half terror. Outside, the driver of the other car was already stepping out, waving, checking his own vehicle. No one was badly hurt. It was a scrape, a scare, not a tragedy.

But to you, it felt like an echo. Like lightning returning to the same scar in the ground. Your fingers trembled as you unbuckled your seatbelt. San looked at you, and for a second, neither of you moved.

 "God, I thought..."

Your fingers trembled against his jacket, clutching him like you might lose him again. And maybe it was nothing. Just a fender-bender, but something inside you had shifted. A pressure in your chest, the sound of his voice, the flash of memory, your fingers curled around his wrist, and for a split second, you remembered.

A birthday.

Candles.

His laugh in the dark.

His hand brushing your cheek.

A yellow plastic ring.

It was small, barely a second, but it hit you so hard you flinched.

San caught the look in your eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, still breathless.

You shook your head slowly. "I... I think I remembered something."

He paused.

You closed your eyes.

"I think... you asked me to marry you once."

San's heart stopped. And then he smiled. A fragile, aching smile, like something inside him had cracked open.

"You said no," he whispered. "And then you made me ask again with a yellow plastic ring."

Your hand trembled over your heart. The ring in the drawer, the one that made you cry without knowing why.

You looked at him again, really looked, and for the first time, he didn't feel like a stranger.

After a few months, spring returned to the city in full bloom -and so, in your own way, did you.

After the second accident, everything shifted.

You didn't lose any more memories that night. If anything, something inside you cracked open, like a door that had always been there, waiting to be found. After that, you worked harder than ever. Not just because you wanted your memory back, but because he never stopped fighting for you, even when you didn't feel like the same person he loved.

You dove into it: the photographs, the journals, the smell of his cologne on your pillow, the comic sketches you once hid inside an old shoe box. The coffee shop, the places you used to go, the food he said you hated, but you found yourself ordering just to see.

Little by little, pieces returned.

Not all of them. You still forgot some dates. You still couldn't remember why Hongjoong always called you "Captain," or what made Yeosang cry-laugh the first time you met. But the important things? You held onto those with everything you had.

You remembered how San's hand fit at the small of your back, the way he used to hum when he thought you were asleep, the soft way he'd whisper your name when he was half-asleep and needed to make sure you were still there.

And now, months later, you were there.

The bar buzzed with warmth and celebration, full of your friends, full of light. Outside, fairy lights glittered across the rooftop. Someone had already smashed the cake. There was a karaoke battle happening in the corner. Seonghwa had taken over the music, and Wooyoung was trying to get everyone to pose under a banner that said you were celebrating the publication of your comics.

Your first printed volume. A comic book. A real one.

And even though you smiled at everyone and thanked them with full sincerity, there was only one person you were truly looking for in the crowd.

You spotted him on the couch near the edge of the room, nursing a drink. White shirt, rolled sleeves, his chain catching the light. He looked impossibly soft in the chaos, like a quiet moment wrapped in a person.

He was watching you, eyes half-lidded, that little smirk on his lips he didn't even realize he had when he looked at you.

You didn't overthink it. You just walked across the room, climbed right into his lap like you'd done a hundred times before, and leaned in close, so close your breath hit his ear. "Don't think I forgot the first night you let me draw you naked."

He choked.

You could feel the sharp inhale beneath your palms as his hands gripped your waist, stunned. "What... what did you just say?"

You pulled back slowly, watching his face twist with disbelief.

"Bedroom floor," you said. "You were freezing but you wouldn't move until I got the curve of your shoulder right. You were so dramatic."

His eyes filled with something raw.

"No one else knew that," he said hoarsely. 

You shrugged softly, nose brushing his. "I told you I'd come back to you. I'm not all the way there yet, but I'm close. I feel it."

He stared at you like you were the answer to every prayer he'd never spoken out loud. Like you were a miracle wearing your own skin.

And then he kissed you.

There, in the middle of the rooftop, with music in the background and your friends around you and the stars blinking quietly above, he kissed you like the world had finally come back into focus.

"You remembered the sketch," he whispered against your mouth.

You smiled. "I remembered you."

And as his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you as if afraid to blink, you knew one thing for sure:

You weren't just returning to your old self, you were becoming more, you were rewriting everything with love in your hands.

The apartment was quiet, washed in golden lamplight and the soft shuffle of sheets.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, sketchbook in your lap, pencil smudged between your fingers. San lay beside you, one arm bent under his head, the other lazily tracing patterns along your thigh, like he couldn't stand to stop touching you, even for a second.

"Is that me again?" he asked, voice low and a little sleepy.

You smiled, not looking up. "No. It's us."

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to peek. The page showed a messy panel -your typical style- drawn in soft graphite. Two figures sitting in bed, one sketching, one watching. Simple. Intimate. 

"I look good," he said, grinning.

You rolled your eyes. "You always say that."

"Because it's always true." he leaned in, brushing his lips over your shoulder. "But also... because you draw me the way you see me. And that version of me? That's my favorite."

You paused, pencil hovering mid-air.

Then, quietly: "I think I'm happy again."

His smile faded into something softer. "Yeah?"

You nodded. "Not just because I remember things now. But because I feel like myself again. Like... we're back. But not just back... better."

San turned onto his side, pulling you into his arms until your cheek rested against his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear.

"You know," he whispered, "you could forget everything all over again, and I'd still find my way back to you."

You pulled back slightly to meet his eyes. "You don't have to."

"I know." he kissed your forehead. "But I would."

The sketchbook slipped from your lap, forgotten. The city murmured outside the windows, but inside -here, in this room, in his arms- you had everything you needed.

You curled into him, your breathing syncing with his. And as the night folded around you like a favorite page in a well-loved book, you knew you'd never forget this feeling again.

Home.

Him.

You.

[armpirate]

The Vows Between Us || San

Part 2

pairing: San x fem!reader || Arranged marriage

w.c.: 13.6k

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, oral sex (male receiving), female masturbation, unprotected sex, teasing, edging (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content)

Aprox. time of reading: 40 / 50 minutes

Summary: For San, marrying you was a calculated move -a necessary step to secure the company that was rightfully his. But also a move to know you'd be his after years of looking at you from afar. For you, it was an escape from the gilded cage your family had locked you in. What neither of you anticipated was the spark that would ignite in the ashes of your arrangement. But in a world where every touch felt like a promise and every whisper hid a secret, falling for him was your first mistake. Because just when you thought his heart might truly be yours, you uncovered the truth. Or so you thought.

MASTERLIST

The air inside San's office was warm and suffocating despite the minimalistic modern design and large floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked Berlin's skyline. You stepped inside with measured steps, your heels clicking softly on the marble floor. San was already there, leaning against the edge of his grand wooden desk with his long thick fingers wrapping around the pen that kept swirling on his digits every few seconds, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

"You're early," he said, his voice smooth but laced with something smug.

"I prefer to get unpleasant things over with quickly," you replied, your tone cool and detached as you slipped off your coat. "I assume your father told you why I'm here."

San chuckled, swirling the pen one last time before putting it down. "Oh, I know. The future Mrs. Choi wants to 'discuss terms,' right? Sounds like a business merger already." his dark eyes gleamed with interest as he looked you up and down, deliberately slow. "But I'm curious, why did you finally agree? You seemed so determined to avoid me before."

You crossed your arms, meeting his gaze without flinching. "Not everything is about you, San. My reasons are my own."

The smirk faltered for a split second before returning, this time tinged with something bittersweet. "Fair enough," he said, straightening up and taking a step closer, his voice dropping just slightly. "But you'll have to get used to things being about us. At least, that's what everyone else will expect starting next weekend."

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to show it. You kept your expression neutral, tilting your head just slightly. "Let's get one thing straight, this marriage may be inevitable, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

San smiled -slow, dangerous, and entirely too pleased. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

That sentence alone had you rolling your eyes, trying to control yourself from slipping your tongue on how disgusted you were by that whole thing. 

You exhaled slowly, your fingers tightening around the strap of yourbag. "As long as you understand where we stand, this arrangement might work. We'll play the perfect couple for the public. But behind closed doors, we keep our distance until we sign the divorce papers. Simple."

San stepped closer, closing the space between you just enough to make your breath hitch. His cologne -warm and spicy- wrapped around you like an invisible trap. "Keep our distance?" he repeated, his voice low, almost amused. "Is that what you want? Because that's not what it looked like back at that business gala... when you couldn't stop staring."

As much as you wanted to deny it, your eyes were indeed on him the whole time. He was charming and captivating, it was impossible to move your eyes away from him. But that hypnosis lasted until his family came up with the idea of imposing that marriage on you. He lost all his charm just at that moment. 

You narrowed your eyes. "I was staring at the disaster unfolding around me, not at you."

San smirked, tilting his head. "Right. That's why your eyes followed me the entire night." he leaned in, his lips just a breath away from your ear. "You're good at playing it cold, Y/n. But I wonder how long you can keep that act up once we're married."

You refused to back down, your voice calm despite the spark of irritation in your chest. "I've dealt with men far more intimidating than you, San. Trust me, keeping you at arm's length won't be a challenge."

A flicker of something darker crossed his eyes -something almost dangerous. For a moment, the air between you felt heavy, charged with unspoken words and years of unresolved tension.

"Good," San finally said, his voice a whisper. "Keep trying to resist me. It'll make it that much more fun when you fail."

Your jaw tightened, and you took a step back, reclaiming the distance. "You're delusional if you think I'll ever fall for you."

San raised his eyebrows in amused awe as he took on the challenge. "We'll see, future Mrs. Choi. We've got a lifetime to test that theory."

You turned on your heel, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how his words affected you. But as you walked toward the door, you couldn't shake the feeling that San was right. The real challenge wasn't staying distant -it was making sure you didn't get burned by the fire between you.

"By the way, you mentioned divorce... didn't you?" your tracks stopped the second he mentioned that detail, hearing his heavy steps behind you as he approached his body. 

Slowly, you turned to him, unable to back down on your stance "That's what we agreed on."

"Some deals suffer changes as they have to meet different necessities, don't you think?" the way his eyebrows arched, while his lips pursed on a mocking grin almost had you losing your patience. "Divorce was ever on the plate? Because I don't think it was one of my conditions".

"No, it was one of mine" you spat back. "Either sign those divorce papers on good terms, or I'll drag you from one trial to another" San loved the challenge, he loved the way your eyes fixed on him to make sure he understood everything you were saying. 

"What if I don't want to sign them?"

"Then you'll have to find another dumbass to agree to get married to you" you rolled your eyes, thinking that would be the end of your conversation, but his fingers hooked on your elbow to stop you from walking away. 

You weren't sure exactly when he got so close, but you could feel the warm air escaping his nostrils on your cheeks. 

"Don't try to throw a fist at me" he stopped you. "You're so used to getting what you want, don't you? You pout a little, you act a little bitchy and daddy gives you all you want. Let me give you a spoiler: that won't work with me. The moment you're my wife, you'll do as I say. And if I say I don't want to get divorced, then you won't get those fucking papers". 

Your eyes started to water: rage, sadness, frustration... All those feelings were building up as you realized you got to a no-exit stop. Your plans were crumbling down, all your ideas were getting ruined, and all you could do was tighten your lips and open your eyes as much as possible so tears wouldn't escape with a blink. 

Daddy's girl? He had absolutely no idea. If you were living in such a perfect place, you wouldn't have agreed in the first place, but the fact that your parents -or people who gave you shelter when you needed it- agreed on engaging their daughter with a complete stranger for money should've given him enough of a hint of your reality. 

"Your choice" you managed to get rid of his grip. "Either sign those papers, or I'll make sure to tell everyone what all of this is about". 

"You won't. And you wanna know how I know?" he took one step closer to you. "I'll make your life a living hell if you do". 

"With what power?"

Your mocking tone was the last straw before he moved his hand from your elbow to your throat, wrapping his fingers around it and slamming your body against the wide door. 

"I don't need any power for that." his eyes were dark, his threat becoming a promise "Even if it's the last thing I do, I'll make you regret ever messing with me. So you better come with a pretty dress and the best of attitudes next weekend". He let go of your throat slowly, calmly placing his shirt properly "I know you'll make the best decision" he finally said. 

Your eyes were fixed on him, confused at how easily he let you go. And, somehow, his words were even scarier than his actions, because you could see the threat through them. 

The grand hall was filled with muted whispers and expectant gazes, the air thick with anticipation. The soft hum of violins played in the background, their melody delicate but almost haunting. The guests sat in rows beneath an arch of white roses and crystal chandeliers, their eyes flitting between the tall doors at the back of the aisle and San, who stood at the altar in his perfectly tailored black suit, waiting.

His fingers twitched at his sides as he stole a glance at the watch, sliding the sleeve of his jacket just a bit far up. 

Ten minutes late. Then fifteen. 

You weren't there.

He told himself you'd show up. You had to. But with each passing second, doubt sank its claws deeper into him. His heart pounded, and the polished facade he wore so well began to crack. Was this your way of backing out? A silent rebellion against a marriage neither of you had chosen? Were you actually telling the truth when you said you wouldn't show up if he didn't promise you a divorce? 

The doors remained closed, and San's jaw tightened. His father, seated in the front row, shot him a warning glance -one that practically screamed "Handle this".

Then, just as his patience teetered on the edge of collapse, the heavy doors finally creaked open.

A hush fell over the crowd.

And there you were.

You stood at the entrance in your wedding dress, the long veil trailing behind you, catching the soft light like a halo. For a moment, the room seemed to blur around you, everything fading except the heavy thud of your heart. You could feel every eye on you, the weight of their expectations pressing down on your chest, stealing the breath from your lungs.

Your feet felt like concrete as you took your first step. Hesitation rooted itself deep inside you, your body caught in a battle between instinct and obligation.

San watched you with an intensity that bordered on desperation. His dark eyes flickered with a thousand questions. You couldn't miss the way his shoulders tensed or how his lips pressed into a thin line, betraying the fear he was trying so hard to conceal.

Step by step, you made your way down the aisle, but each step felt heavier than the last. Doubt whispered cruelly in your ear. "You don't have to do this" you told yourself.

Your fingers clutched the bouquet so tightly that your knuckles turned white. You forced yourself forward, your gaze fixed ahead, refusing to meet San's eyes until you stood just a breath away from him.

"Finally," San muttered under his breath, his voice low enough for only you to hear. 

There was relief in his tone, but it was wrapped in a layer of frustration.

The officiant began to speak, his words echoing in the cavernous hall. You barely registered them, your mind a tangled mess of emotions. San's eyes never left yours. His expression was calm on the surface, but you could see the storm raging just beneath it: fear, frustration, and something dangerously close to longing.

"And now," the officiant said, his voice cutting through the fog in your mind, "if the bride and groom would like to exchange their vows."

San went first. His voice was steady, but the practiced words carried an unexpected weight, laced with sincerity that caught you off guard.

"I promise to protect you," he said, his gaze locking onto yours. "To stand beside you through whatever comes next. No matter what happens... I'm yours."

There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes -just a flash- but it was enough to send your heart lurching in your chest.

Then it was your turn. The officiant turned to you expectantly, waiting for your response.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came.

A heavy silence hung in the air. It stretched long enough to make the guests shift uncomfortably in their seats. Even the soft melody of the violins seemed to falter.

Everything you had prepared so mindfully disappeared at the feeling of being so watched, as if you were under watchful eye. You were sure it'd be obvious you weren't feeling either of the words you were pronouncing. 

San's fingers curled slightly at his sides, his eyes searching yours for a sign, for anything.

The officiant cleared his throat. "Do you, Y/n, take Choi San to be your lawfully wedded husband?" his tone was insistent, as if he wanted to get any words from you to get all of that over with. 

The pause that followed was suffocating. You felt San's breath catch, his entire body coiled tight, ready to unravel.

Although he hoped you wouldn't humiliate him that way, he saw you completely able to do it. 

Finally, you whispered the words.

"...I do."

Your voice was barely audible, a breath more than a declaration. But it was enough.

San exhaled, his shoulders relaxing, though the tension in his jaw remained. His eyes never left yours, dark and unreadable, as if trying to solve a puzzle with too many missing pieces.

The officiant smiled, oblivious to the war waging between the two of you. "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

San hesitated, just for a heartbeat, before leaning in. Your head immediately threw back slightly, enough for him to know you didn't want that kiss and make it seem like a shy move for the rest of the assistants. His hand found your waist -firm but not forceful- as he tilted his head and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was brief, calculated for the audience, but the heat of it lingered far longer than it should have. San had been daydreaming way too long about it to waste that chance. 

His lips were warm against yours, but there was something else beneath the surface. A question. A challenge.

When he pulled back, his eyes locked on yours once more. He didn't smile. Neither did you.

The applause from the crowd felt distant, like it belonged to another world entirely.

As the two of you turned to face the audience, San leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear.

"We're just getting started," he whispered, his voice dark with promise.

You kept your face neutral, your expression unreadable, but your pulse betrayed you, thudding wildly in your chest.

The reception was a spectacle of luxury and elegance, just as expected from a merger of two powerful families. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the grand hall, where hundreds of guests mingled, sipping champagne and exchanging polite congratulations.

You smiled and nodded your way through countless conversations, always keeping one eye on San. He was never far, and every time you saw him start toward you, you slipped between groups of guests or ducked behind another table.

You had managed to avoid him all night. At the cake-cutting ceremony, his hand had hovered near yours on the knife, holding tighter over your skin as you threatened to let the long sword slide from your fingers to his throat. And for a fleeting moment, you thought he might say something, yet he only smirked and moved closer to you. You were quick to turn away, disappearing into the crowd the moment the applause broke, trying to get away from him. 

San, however, was nothing if not persistent.

The moment you saw him again, his dark eyes locked onto yours from across the dance floor. This time, there was no escape. The crowd parted just enough for him to make his way toward you, his strides deliberate and confident.

"Running from me again?" he said when he reached you, his voice low, a challenge glinting in his eyes.

You lifted your chin, forcing your expression to stay composed. "I wasn't running. I was... mingling with the guests."

His lips curled into a smirk. "Right. Mingling." he offered his hand, palm open and waiting. "Well, it's time for the first dance, Mrs. Choi. You wouldn't want to disappoint our guests, would you?"

Your stomach tightened at the weight of his words. There was no getting out of this. Not without causing a scene.

With a quiet sigh, you slipped your hand into his. His fingers curled around yours, warm and firm, and you couldn't help but notice how easily they fit together.

The lights dimmed, and the soft melody of "You Are the Reason" by Calum Scott filled the air. A sweet, tender song -one that felt far too intimate for the situation, as if it was meant for two people who loved each other.

San led you to the center of the dance floor, his hand resting gently on your waist, pulling you just close enough to make your pulse stutter.

"I was starting to think you wouldn't show up today," he said softly, his voice barely audible over the music. His eyes searched yours, the teasing edge gone now, replaced by something far more serious. "You made me worried."

You swallowed, your gaze dropping for a split second before meeting his again. "I was... thinking things through."

His hand tightened slightly on your waist. "Did you change your mind at the last minute?"

For a moment, you didn't answer. The question hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning. The song swelled around you, the lyrics wrapping around your heart like a bittersweet lullaby.

You knew hell would be nothing compared to your life if you didn't show up to the wedding. Not because of San or his family though, but your adoptive parents. The moment you twisted all of their plans, there would be no escape from it. 

At least with San you wouldn't owe anyone anything. Instead, you'd be the one they owe something to. 

San's eyes softened, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "If you had, I would've waited. I would've found another way."

Your breath hitched. His words caught you off guard -unexpected and disarming. For the first time that night, the wall you had so carefully built around yourself began to crack.

He seemed so genuine, so caring.

"I'm here now," you said, your voice steadier than you felt. "That's all that matters."

His gaze lingered on you for a long moment before he nodded. "Yeah. You're here."

The music continued, the world around you fading as you moved together in perfect synchrony. His touch was light yet grounding, his eyes never leaving yours.

For a fleeting second, you forgot about the crowd, the expectations, the tangled mess of your circumstances. It was just the two of you, swaying gently beneath the chandeliers, the lyrics of the song weaving a story neither of you was ready to admit aloud.

As the final notes faded, San leaned in just slightly, his voice a soft murmur against your ear.

"You can keep running all you want," he said, his breath warm on your skin. "But sooner or later, you'll stop. And when you do... I'll be right here, waiting."

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. There was no smirk, no mask, just him.

The applause from the crowd broke the spell, and you quickly stepped back, your heart thudding painfully in your chest. San let you go, but his eyes stayed on you, dark and unreadable, as if daring you to run again.

And maybe you would. But for the first time, a small part of you wondered if running was really what you wanted. No, you stayed by his side, answering to his challenge with the same power he was showing off. 

The party blurred into a collection of clinking glasses, polite congratulations, and watchful eyes. Despite the sea of guests surrounding you, you felt like you were holding your breath the entire time. So when San leaned close and whispered, "Let's get out of here," you didn't argue. If he hadn't said it, you probably would've escaped by yourself. 

Now, the two of you sat in the back of a sleek black car, the hum of the city filling the silence between you. The driver navigated the streets with ease, the warm glow of streetlights flashing across the car's interior.

San sat beside you, his posture relaxed, but his eyes kept drifting toward your hand -the wedding ring glinting softly on your finger. He didn't bother hiding the fact that he was staring.

You caught him once, raising an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"

His gaze flicked up to meet yours, and for a second, something unreadable flashed across his face. "No," he said quietly. "Just getting used to the sight."

You turned your hand slightly, the light catching on the diamond. The ring was beautiful, of course -a complex design that was probably picked out by your parents and San's father rather than by either of you. It felt foreign on your finger, a constant reminder of the deal you'd made.

San's lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "It suits you," he said, his voice soft, almost contemplative.

You said nothing, turning your head to watch the city rush by through the window. San simply smirked, knowing that your silence was better than a sassy response from you. 

When the car finally pulled up to the luxury hotel, you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. The driver opened the door, and you stepped out, feeling the cool night air brush against your skin. San followed close behind, his hand hovering near the small of your back but never quite touching.

The suite was exactly what you expected -grand and luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the Brandenburg Gate. A bottle of champagne and a tray of chocolates waited on the marble table, while a large king-sized bed sat at the center of the room, draped in crisp white linens.

You set your bag down and turned to San, folding your arms across your chest. "I'll take the bed. You can sleep on the couch."

His eyebrows lifted slightly, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "The couch?"

"It's comfortable enough," you said, nodding toward the plush, oversized sofa near the window. "Plenty of space."

San took a step closer, his expression unreadable. "We're married now, remember? Sharing the bed won't kill us."

You scoffed lightly, crossing the room to stand by the couch. "Not happening." You glanced back at him, raising an eyebrow. "Fine. You take the bed. I'll sleep here." you rushed to say, feeling your energy consumed by the small talk you made with all the guests. 

"No." his response was immediate, his tone firm. "You're not sleeping on the couch."

"Then am I sleeping on the floor?" you arched an eyebrow "Because I won't sleep with you in the same bed".

You stared at him, daring him to argue further. But to your surprise, he sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. "Alright. I'll sleep on the couch."

His sudden surrender caught you off guard. "Just like that?"

He smirked faintly, tossing his jacket onto a chair. "I'm not going to win this argument, am I?"

You watched him for a moment, suspicious of how easily he gave in, but ultimately decided not to push it. "Good. I'll get ready for bed."

As you disappeared into the bathroom, San sank onto the couch, leaning his head back against the cushions. He glanced at the wedding ring on his own hand, turning it slowly between his fingers. For all his confidence and charm, there was something strangely grounding about the weight of the band.

As much as that wasn't the way he wanted you to be by his side, it somehow made him feel good. 

When you returned, dressed in something far more comfortable than your wedding gown, San was already stretched out on the couch, one arm draped over his eyes.

"Comfortable?" you asked, standing by the bed.

He peeked at you from beneath his arm, his lips quivering into a faint smile. "I've had worse."

You rolled your eyes and climbed into bed, pulling the blankets up around you. For a few moments, silence filled the room, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside the windows.

Just as your eyes started to drift closed, you heard San's voice -quiet but clear in the darkness.

"Goodnight, Y/n."

You hesitated before responding, your voice soft. "Goodnight, San."

Neither of you said anything after that, but sleep didn't come easily. You lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, painfully aware of his presence just a few feet away.

The distance between you felt both vast and dangerously fragile. And as the minutes stretched into hours, you couldn't help but wonder how long it would stay that way.

The morning started quietly -too quietly. You woke up, blinking against the soft morning light spilling into the room, only to find San already sitting on the couch, his phone in hand. His jacket was gone, and his dress shirt, slightly wrinkled from the night before, was unbuttoned at the collar. He looked far too relaxed for someone who had spent the night on a couch after your wedding.

"Good morning," he said, his eyes flicking to yours the second you stirred. His voice was calm, but there was something smug lurking just beneath the surface, as if he was already one step ahead of you.

You rubbed your eyes, forcing yourself to sound composed. "Morning."

A few beats of silence passed, too long to be comfortable.

"You were tossing and turning last night," San said casually, stretching his arms behind his head. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I slept just fine," you lied, standing and heading for your bag. You could feel his eyes on your every move, sharp and assessing.

"You sure? You sounded restless." his voice was smooth, laced with amusement.

You froze, giving him a flat look. "Were you listening to me sleep?"

He grinned, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "It's hard not to when someone mutters 'This is a mistake' at 2 a.m."

Your face heated. "I did not..."

"You did." his smirk widened. "I thought about waking you up to ask what you meant, but I figured I'd let you dream about it instead."

You crossed your arms, your patience wearing thin. "Thanks for your consideration, San."

"Anything for you, love," he said, drawing out the word with deliberate sarcasm.

"You've really mastered being annoying, haven't you?" you shot back, heading toward the closet.

"Years of practice," he said, standing up and stretching, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. "You'll get used to it."

You rolled your eyes, yanking open your suitcase with unnecessary force. "God forbid."

San chuckled under his breath, walking over to lean casually against the wall beside you. "You can deny it all you want, but deep down, you like this."

You turned to glare at him. "Like what?"

"This," he said, gesturing between the two of you. "The bickering. The back-and-forth. Admit it, it's fun."

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. "San, not everything is a game. And if you think this -whatever this is- counts as fun, then we're going to have a very long, very difficult marriage."

He tilted his head, pretending to think. "A long marriage... Sounds like you're planning to stick around. It does sound really good to me."

"Oh my god," you muttered, turning on your heel. "I can't do this right now."

You stalked toward the bathroom, determined to get a moment's peace.

"You're already giving up?" he called after you. "We've been married for less than 24 hours, Y/n!"

"I'm not giving up. I'm taking a shower," you snapped, slamming the bathroom door shut.

The water was a relief, washing away some of the tension, but your frustration lingered like a storm cloud. And then, halfway through shampooing your hair, you realized something.

You forgot to bring clothes.

You let out a frustrated groan, rinsing the shampoo quickly before wrapping yourself in a towel. The last thing you wanted was to ask San for help, so you cracked the door open and peeked out.

He was still there, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, clearly waiting for your return like some smug predator.

Of course.

You squared your shoulders and stepped out, keeping your head high as you made your way toward the bag.

San's eyes found you immediately, sweeping over your damp hair and the towel wrapped tightly around you. He didn't even try to hide it.

"Forgot something?" his voice was low and teasing.

"Not a word," you warned, grabbing your clothes.

But before you could escape back to the bathroom, his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His fingers were warm, firm, and far too steady for someone who was enjoying this way too much.

"Why bother going back?" he said softly, his voice dropping into that dangerously calm tone that always made your pulse race. "You're already here."

You tightened your grip on your towel. "Let me go, San."

His eyes darkened, his thumb brushing against your wrist in a slow, deliberate motion. "Why? What's the big deal? We're married now, remember?"

Your breath caught, but you forced your voice to stay steady. "I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you're thinking."

He leaned in just slightly, his lips curving into a smirk. "Then prove it. Get changed right here." His gaze dropped for a split second before meeting yours again, his voice barely a whisper. "Unless you're shy."

Your heart thundered in your chest, heat rushing to your face. "I'm not shy."

You weren't shy, but you didn't like the way your body was reacting to his voice, to his petition and his proximity. And you certainly didn't want him to see it so clearly either. 

"Then go ahead," he said, his voice practically daring you.

You glared at him, yanking your wrist free. "Turn around."

"I'm not turning around" he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What's the fun of it if I can't see you?"

He was trying to intimidate you, challenge you to do something he thought you wouldn't dare to do, so he could then tease you about it. 

Two could play that game. 

You placed the clothes on the bed, next to where he was. Taking one step back, your hands were placed on both edges of the towel, slowly undoing the knot to let it pool at your feet. San gulped thick at the sight, not expecting you to actually get naked in front of him, and even less that way, and it gave you a pinch of pride at how nervous he looked for a second. 

You didn't need to do anything, just that stare and the sight of your body alone was enough to awaken the most primal needs. His body responded to you, even if it had been just a second he saw you. Your humid skin, the way some drops fell from your hair and rolled down the curve of your breast to get to your hardened nipple. His mouth was watering just with the need of tasting you. 

San blinked, confused at the way your hand was stretched out for him, "The panties" you mentioned as if it were obvious. 

His hand moved to his left, grabbing the fabric to hand it out to you. You put them on torturously slow, covering your lower half to snap your fingers and asking him for your bra. Placing the strips on your shoulders, you turned to him, your body fitting perfectly in between his semi-parted legs as you silently asked him to tie the clasp. 

Shivers ran through your body at the contact of the reverse of his fingers on your skin, his touch holding on longer than necessary, just because he liked the way you felt as he touched you a little bit too much. 

You didn't need to ask, because San moved to the next item the moment you stepped away. 

He should've seen it coming for him when he saw you lifting your feet, placing it on his thigh -way too close to a place where he needed you like crazy. Your fingers moved calmly, sliding the tight over your leg, up the curve of your knee, moving it past your thigh. Yet San could only focus on how your warmth spread over his skin like wildfire, making him feel you were touching him in places you were not. 

When you finally stepped back to put on the other side of the tight, and the rest of clothes, San felt like he could breathe again, his control coming back to him when he was able to think straight -which also happened when you were fully clothed again. 

You thought he'd hesitate or act shy, but instead his cocky attitude came back as he stood up, the height difference becoming obvious again as he towered over you. 

"See how it isn't that difficult to be a good girl?" he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You'd have thrown a shoe at him if he hadn't hidden inside the bathroom immediately after airing out that response. 

He was insufferable. 

The car ride to San's house was quiet, tense, and far too long for your liking. The morning sun bathed the streets in gold, but it did nothing to lighten the atmosphere inside the vehicle. San sat beside you, one arm draped lazily across the back of the seat, his eyes occasionally drifting toward you as you stared resolutely out the window.

He had been surprisingly well-behaved since the towel incident, keeping his teasing remarks to a minimum -though his occasional glances were enough to keep you on edge.

When the car finally pulled up in front of his house, your eyes widened slightly. House was an understatement. It was a sprawling modern estate with sleek glass panels, sharp architectural lines, and an air of quiet luxury. 

"Home sweet home," San said, stepping out of the car and holding the door open for you with a half-smirk.

You stepped out, clutching your overnight bag tightly. "Big enough so we won't have to see each other for a whole day"

"Thanks for noticing," he quipped. "Come on. I'll give you the grand tour."

You followed him up the steps, trying not to be too impressed as you took in the pristine interior-marble floors, minimalist décor, and massive windows that flooded the space with light.

"Kitchen's over there," San said, gesturing toward an open-concept area with gleaming countertops. "Dining room, living room... you know, standard rich-guy stuff."

"Right," you said dryly. "Because this is completely normal."

He glanced back at you with a grin. "You'll get used to it." the mockery on his tone, knowing damn too well you were used to all that luxury and more, shouldn't have been as funny as it seemed for you. 

You rolled your eyes, walking a little faster to avoid his gaze. The tension from earlier was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but it was muted now, replaced by an odd sense of anticipation.

"Upstairs," San said, leading you to the second floor. You followed him down a hallway lined with modern artwork and huge windows, your footsteps echoing softly on the hardwood floors.

He stopped in front of a door near the end of the hallway and turned to you. "This is your room."

You blinked, caught off guard. "My... room?"

San nodded, his expression unreadable. "I figured you'd want your own space."

Your hand tightened around the strap of your bag. For a moment, you didn't know what to say. You had fully expected him to make some smug comment about sharing a bed -or worse, insist on it. But there he was, offering you something you hadn't dared to hope for: distance.

"Thanks," you said quietly, stepping into the room. It was beautiful -spacious, with a king-sized bed, soft cream-colored walls, and a large window that overlooked the shared garden of the building. There was even an en-suite bathroom with a walk-in shower and a deep soaking tub.

You indeed wouldn't need to get out there, except to eat. 

"Your things are in the closet" he started. "You didn't bring a lot of things, so I guess you'll bring the rest later?"

"No, that's it" you whispered. 

San stopped for a second, shocked about the fact that you only brought a medium suitcase and the bag you were carrying to pack up all of your things. It wasn't like he was expecting a full suitcase display from you, but certainly not something so minimal. 

"I'll be down the hall if you need anything," San said, lingering in the doorway. His eyes softened, his earlier bravado fading just a little. "Seriously. Anything."

For a brief second, the air between you shifted. He wasn't teasing or smug. He just looked... sincere.

You hesitated, feeling the strange urge to say something more, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you gave him a small nod. "I'll be fine."

He smiled faintly, stepping back. "Alright. Settle in. I'll see you downstairs."

As he walked away, you closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

But then again, with San, nothing ever stayed calm for long.

The first month of marriage was nothing short of a battlefield.

It didn't take long for every small interaction to turn into a heated argument. San always had something to say -sharp and sarcastic, ready to push your buttons at every opportunity. You were no better, meeting his smug remarks with icy glares and curt responses. It became a game, a war of words and wills, with neither of you willing to surrender.

There were good moments, but they were fleeting. It started with you finding out San filled up your closet with different clothes and accessories, adding up to the small suitcase you first brought. And it slowly evolved into a laugh shared over breakfast when San nearly burned his toast. A surprisingly comfortable evening spent watching a movie in silence, where the tension seemed to ease just a little. But those moments were always overshadowed by the endless tug-of-war that followed.

It was exhausting, that constant dance of hostility and fleeting truce.

Every day felt like a test of who could push the other further without breaking. The house, despite its size, felt stifling. His presence lingered in every room -a constant reminder that your marriage was nothing more than a cage disguised as luxury.

And today, you'd had enough.

The argument started in the kitchen that morning, over something as trivial as a set of misplaced car keys. It escalated far too quickly, voices rising, accusations flying.

"You always think you can control everything," you snapped, crossing your arms.

San leaned against the counter, his jaw tightening. "Control? I'm trying to help you, but you treat everything I say like it's some personal attack."

"Because it always is!" you threw up your hands in frustration. "You don't know how to back off, San! You just keep pushing and pushing... Fuck, you don't let me breathe!"

"Maybe because you keep running away instead of facing things!" his voice dropped, low and sharp. "You're so obsessed with shutting me out that you can't even see when someone's trying to meet you halfway."

You stared at him, chest heaving, words caught in your throat. For a second, neither of you moved. The silence felt heavier than the argument itself.

Then, without a word, you turned on your heel and stormed upstairs. You needed air, space, anything to escape that suffocating cycle.

In your room, you grabbed a coat and your purse, your hands trembling with frustration. Your eyes caught on your wedding ring, glinting in the sunlight. The sight of it only fueled the fire burning in your chest.

You slipped it off, the cool metal unfamiliar without the warmth of your skin beneath it. For a moment, you stared at the ring in your palm, your thoughts a chaotic swirl of emotions.

Then you set it on the dresser and walked out of the room, not bothering to look back.

San was still in the kitchen when you came back down, his back to you. You didn't say a word as you grabbed your keys from the counter and headed for the front door.

The sound of your footsteps must have caught his attention because he turned around, his eyes narrowing. "Where are you going?"

"Out," you said shortly, not slowing down.

"Without your ring?" his voice was calm, too calm. It sent a shiver down your spine.

You paused, hand on the door handle, refusing to turn around. "I need some time alone."

"And you think taking off your ring is the way to do that?" his footsteps echoed behind you, slow and deliberate. "Is this your idea of freedom?"

You finally turned to face him, meeting his eyes head-on. "What does it matter? It's not like this marriage is real anyway."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

For the first time in weeks, San didn't have a quick response. He just looked at you, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite place -hurt, maybe, or anger, or both.

"If you walk out that door without it," he said quietly, "don't expect me to come looking for you."

The threat was clear, but it only made your resolve stronger.

"Good," you said, voice steady. "That's exactly what I want."

And with that, you opened the door and stepped outside, the cool air hitting your face like a slap.

As you walked toward your car, your heart pounded in your chest. Part of you expected him to follow, to stop you. But when you glanced back, the door was already closed.

Maybe he didn't care enough to stop you after all. Although you wouldn't think too much about it. The more he ignored you, the more freedom you'd have. 

The bar was harmonized with a low hum of conversation and soft music filling the air. You had no plan when you walked in -just an overwhelming need to be anywhere but at that house. You found a spot at the bar, ordering a drink and savoring the temporary escape it promised.

The alcohol warmed your throat and dulled the frustration swirling in your chest. One drink turned into two, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again.

"You look like you could use some company."

You glanced up to see a man standing beside you, his smile easy and confident. His eyes lingered on you just a little too long.

"Not really," you said, turning back to your drink.

"Come on, don't be like that," he said, leaning in closer. "It's just a conversation. You shouldn't be alone in a place like this."

"I'm fine," you insisted, but he didn't seem to get the hint.

The air shifted before you could say anything else, a new presence filling the space behind you.

"She's not alone."

You froze at the familiar voice, low and commanding. Turning slightly, you found yourself face-to-face with San. His dark eyes were locked on the man, his jaw tight, his entire body radiating quiet danger.

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And who are you?"

San's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Her husband."

The word hung in the air like a gunshot, silencing everything around you.

The man's eyes flicked between the two of you, suddenly less confident. "Right... well, my mistake." he backed away with a muttered apology, disappearing into the crowd.

Your heart was pounding, though you weren't sure if it was from the alcohol or the way San's eyes hadn't left you once.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, trying to sound unaffected.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, his voice calm but laced with barely restrained frustration. "But I guess taking off your ring and disappearing without a word answers that for me."

"I needed space," you said, crossing your arms. "You don't own me, San."

His eyes darkened. "You're right. I don't. But I'm still your husband. If you disappear in the middle of the night, I'll come looking for you. And if some creep thinks he can hit on you, then I'm going to do something about it."

You rolled your eyes, the alcohol emboldening you. "So this is about your ego?"

He took a step closer, the tension crackling between you. "No. It's about the fact that I care, whether you want to believe it or not."

His words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Let's go," he said, his tone softening just a fraction. "It's late."

"I'm not going anywhere," you said stubbornly, turning back toward the bar.

San let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Fine. You want to be difficult? Have it your way."

Before you could react, his arm looped around your waist, and in one swift motion, he threw you over his shoulder like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"San!" you gasped, pounding your fists against his back. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he muttered, already weaving his way through the crowd. Heads turned, curious eyes following the scene as you squirmed in his grip. "You brought this on yourself."

"San, I swear to God..."

"You can yell all you want," he said calmly. "We're leaving."

Once outside, the cool night air hit you like a slap, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your cheeks -from anger or embarrassment, you weren't sure. San carried you all the way to his car, finally setting you down beside it.

"You're insane," you snapped, your breath coming fast as you straightened your clothes.

"Maybe," he said, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I thought you'd have learned to love it by now."

For a moment, you stood there, caught in a standoff.

"Get in the car," he said softly, but there was no mistaking the authority in his voice.

Your pride told you to refuse, to stand your ground and make this even more difficult. But something about the intensity in his eyes made you falter.

Wordlessly, you opened the car door and got in, your pulse still racing.

San slid into the driver's seat, starting the car without another word. The ride home was silent, the air between you charged with tension. You could feel his occasional glances, the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel every time your bare finger caught the light.

The ride home was silent. He didn't speak, and neither did you. But the weight of everything unsaid filled the car, pressing down on you both.

When you pulled up in front of the building, San finally broke the silence.

"I'm not going to pretend I know what you're thinking," he said, his voice low. "But if you want to leave, really leave, just say it. I'll let you go."

You turned to look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his eyes. It was the first time you'd seen him drop his guard like this.

But instead of answering, you opened the door and stepped out, your heart pounding in your chest.

San stayed in the car for a moment before following you inside. Neither of you said a word as you climbed the stairs, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

When you reached your room, you paused in the doorway, glancing back at him.

"Goodnight," you said softly, your voice barely audible.

For once, San didn't have a clever comeback. He just nodded, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than they should have.

"Goodnight," he echoed, his voice rough around the edges.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you -something neither of you was ready to admit yet.

The tension between you and San had been palpable since that night. Every word, every glance, felt like a battle -a silent war that neither of you was willing to lose. And just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you found yourself trapped at one of his company's lavish parties, drowning in champagne and meaningless small talk.

It wasn't your kind of crowd. Polished executives and their equally polished partners swirled around you, exchanging pleasantries and hollow laughs. Being the accessory of the main character of the party wasn't your thing at all. You stood near the bar, sipping your drink, counting down the minutes until you could escape. 

That's when you saw him, San, standing at the center of a group of people, commanding their attention with ease. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his hair perfectly styled, exuding the kind of confidence that made it impossible to look away.

And then you noticed her.

She was standing beside him, too close, her hand resting lightly on his arm as she laughed at something he said. A striking woman in a sleek red dress, her eyes sparkled with something far more than professional interest.

Your grip on your glass tightened as you watched her lean in, whispering something into his ear. To your horror, San didn't pull away. Instead, he turned toward her with a slow smile, his eyes dropping deliberately to her lips before meeting hers again.

It was a calculated move -one meant for your benefit. You knew it. He knew it.

Your stomach twisted, a mix of anger and something far more dangerous bubbling in your chest. But you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

You turned your back to him, willing yourself to focus on the conversation happening nearby. It was meaningless chatter, something about stock prices, but you latched onto it, pretending you didn't notice the way your pulse was racing.

"Jealous, love?"

The voice was low and teasing, right behind you. You didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"Hardly," you said, taking a sip of your drink without looking at him. "Do what you want. I couldn't care less."

"Is that so?" San stepped into your line of vision, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Because it looked like you were about two seconds away from throwing your drink at her."

"More like two seconds away from smacking this glass on your head" you finally sentenced. 

"That does sound like someone who's jealous"

You forced a smile, meeting his gaze head-on. "Please. If I wanted to make a scene, you'd know it."

San chuckled, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you. "Careful, Y/n. You might give me the wrong idea: that you actually care about me and what I do."

Your pulse jumped, but you refused to let him win. "Trust me, I don't." you narrowed your eyes while looking at him "Just be careful of how you behave in front of everyone. We're still married. In private, do whatever the fuck you please". 

His smile was slow, almost predatory. "Good. Because I'd hate for you to get hurt playing a game you can't win."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless and furious.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. You couldn't stop watching him: laughing, smiling, always with her by his side. Each glance felt like a deliberate push, a challenge to see how far you'd let him go.

By the time the party started winding down, you'd had enough. You grabbed your purse and made your way toward the exit, your steps quick and determined.

But before you could leave, a hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"Running away again?" San's voice was calm, but his grip was firm.

"Let go," you said, your voice low and dangerous.

"Not until you admit it." His eyes locked onto yours, the amusement gone, replaced by something far more serious.

"Admit what?"

"That you care," he said simply.

You yanked your wrist free, your eyes burning with fury. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet, here you are," San said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Still standing in front of me". You didn't know when he stepped so close that your chests were pressed together and your breaths were mixing between you two "I'm only yours, love. You just need to ask me, and I'll declare to you my love without thinking twice". 

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the party noise a distant hum. You hated how close he was, how easily he could get under your skin.

But you refused to give him what he wanted. Not tonight.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, ignoring the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

The car ride back was suffocatingly quiet. The air between you felt like a loaded gun, ready to go off at the slightest provocation. San's hands rested on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window in stubborn silence.

The tires crunched on the gravel as the car came to a stop in front of the building. You didn't wait for him to say anything -didn't even glance his way as you pushed the door open and strode toward the front entrance.

But the sound of his footsteps trailing behind you, steady and deliberate, made your pulse quicken.

You barely made it inside when San's voice cut through the silence.

"Care to explain what that little stunt at the party was all about?" his tone was deceptively calm, but the underlying tension was unmistakable.

You spun around, glaring at him. "Are you seriously accusing me of something after what you pulled tonight? Flirting with her right in front of me?"

San smirked, stepping closer. "You noticed."

"Of course I noticed!" you snapped, your voice rising. "You made sure I would."

He shrugged, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "Maybe. But you didn't have to leave the party like that, running off again like you always do. It's getting old, Y/n."

"Maybe it's because I can't stand being around you," you shot back, your voice trembling slightly with the force of your anger. "Did you think of that?"

San tilted his head, studying you. "No," he said quietly, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between you. "I think you left because it bothered you. Because for once, you didn't have control, and it drove you crazy."

Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down. "You think too highly of yourself."

"Do I?" his voice was a whisper now, low and deliberate, each word wrapping around you like a challenge. "Then why are you shaking?"

You hated him for being right. Hated how easily he could strip away every layer of defense you had built.

"I'm not..."

"You are," he interrupted, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "And it's not because you're angry. It's because you feel something."

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out.

His eyes dropped to your lips for the briefest moment before locking onto yours again. "Tell me I'm wrong, and I'll back off," he said softly. "Tell me you don't feel anything, and I'll stop."

You stared at him, your heart pounding so hard it was almost painful.

But you couldn't say it.

The words wouldn't come.

San's smile was slow and triumphant. "That's what I thought."

He turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless and furious, your skin still burning from his touch.

"You're insufferable," you called after him, but your voice wavered, the heat of your frustration blending with something far more dangerous.

San stopped mid-step, his back still to you. For a split second, you thought he'd ignore you, that he'd let you stew in your own whirlwind of emotions.

But then he turned, slow and deliberate, his dark eyes locking onto yours like a predator sizing up its prey. His steps were measured, each one bringing him closer, the air between you thick with electricity.

"You know what's really insufferable?" his voice was low, almost a growl. "The way you keep running. The way you keep fighting me when we both know exactly how this will end."

Your breath caught in your throat as he came to a stop just inches from you, his body radiating warmth, his presence overwhelming.

"I'm not running," you said, though it sounded more like a whisper than the firm declaration you intended.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. His touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of heat racing through you.

The space between you disappeared in a heartbeat. His lips crashed against yours, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. The kiss was anything but gentle -wild, desperate, and filled with every bit of frustration and desire that had built up between you.

Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing grounding you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him, his grip possessive and unrelenting.

It felt better than anything neither of you could've ever imagined. It wasn't just a kiss -it was a battle, a collision of everything you didn't say, everything you'd tried to ignore. 

His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before deepening the kiss. You gasped when he sank his tongue in your mouth, quickly meeting yours at the same time he cornered you on the wall next to the door, his hand gently cupping the back of your head before moving it back to your neck. 

You hated him for making you feel this way, for always knowing how to push you to the edge and catch you before you fell. 

But at that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

When you finally pulled back, your breaths were ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes searched yours, dark and unreadable, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

"Say it," San whispered, his voice rough and breathless. "Say you don't feel anything."

You stayed silent, your lips still tingling from his kiss.

But the way your hands lingered on his chest, the way your body leaned into his, spoke louder than any words ever could.

He took your silence as the perfect answer, smirking to himself before he linked your lips together again. His fingers sank in your hair at the back of your head, twirling them on some locks to pull from them and throw your head to the side as he kissed you down your neck. 

"You're absolutely everything I've ever fucking dreamed of" he heavily whispered on your skin. "I want to admire you, worship your body and make love to you so you'd meet a devotion you had never seen in your life. But hell... when you look at me that way..." his thumb brushed over your cheekbone "I want to ruin you so bad, show you no one will fuck you so good to make your ears beep so loud you won't be hearing your own pleas when you ask me to stop".

Your kiss grew more passionate, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, when he kissed you again. His hands began to wander, tracing the curve of your back, the swell of your hips. You could feel the hardness of his body against yours, and it sent a thrill through you, craving for something you didn't know you were desperate for. You moaned softly into his mouth, pressing yourself against him, at the same time his hands held your hips to keep your body glued to him. 

San broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck again, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You arched my back, a soft sigh escaping your lips, when his fingers brushed against the little skin that was shown off through the cleavage of your dress. It frustrated you, but it also felt so good the way your body responded to his touch without a resistance, your nipples hardening against the fabric of your bra, your entrance clenching around nothing as you kept waiting to feel him inside you. 

When he looked down at you once again, his hands moved down to the zip of your dress, his thumb brushing on your skin while his other fingers slid the material down. He didn't need to ask you, he didn't need to tell you, you helped him take off your dress. 

His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching. You were definitely better than he could've ever imagined. No light pajamas would ever compare to the vision in front of him. 

You reached for the hem of his black shirt, pulling from the buttons to reveal his toned chest. San had to hold back the growl in his throat when you ran your fingers over the muscles, feeling the heat of his skin, making him sure your fingerprints were burning every inch you were moving through. 

He wasn't going to let you take control so easily though. 

He lowered his head all of a sudden, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth through the lace of your bra. You gasped, your hands fisting in his hair as a way to control your own self. He teased and suckled, his other hand cupping your breast before he dragged his fingers down with the fabric, exposing the flesh, his thumb rubbing against your nipple before he pinched it with his index. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, your body aching for more.

San slipped the straps of your bra off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He took his time, exploring every inch of your body with his mouth and hands. He made you squirm beneath him, he filled your head with pleas you never thought would ever be aimed at him, your body was on fire for him.

You reached for his belt, unbuckling it slowly. He lifted his hips to help you, his jeans and boxers coming off in one swift motion. You looked down at him, your eyes widening at the sight of his hard length. He was thick and long, the tip glistening with pre-cum. You licked your lips when a sudden urge to taste him overwhelmed you. Was it how sexy he actually was? Or how bad you wanted him to beg for you and finally accept you were in control? Maybe both? 

You leaned down on your knees, not wasting a moment before taking him into your mouth. He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair as your tongue swirled around him. You sucked and licked, your head bobbing up and down at a tortuous speed. You could feel him getting harder, his hips thrusting gently. You took him deeper when he pushed you lower, your nose brushing against his skin to look up to him. 

And hell, if that image wasn't the best sight ever...

He pulled you up with one swift motion, your lips still parted to the size of his length when he crashed his lips against yours again. Your back slammed against the door, and your head banged against it the moment he pulled your panties down and slid two fingers in you. His thumb brushed over your clit gently, slowly, which was opposite to the way his curved digits moved and rubbed against your walls. 

He earned another moan from you, and his cock twitched in the air against your body once more. 

"Who do you belong to, Y/n? Who owns you now?" his voice was thick and raspy as he whispered. His voice was a mix of cockiness and need to prove you always belonged to him. 

The moment you tried to move your head forward to rest on his shoulder, his fingers wrapped around your throat and stuck your head against the wood to keep your eyes fixed on him. 

You didn't know what to do with your arms, how to keep yourself on your feet, but you did know you had to keep your eyes fixed on him. 

"My love" he almost sang when he felt the way your walls clenched around him and your clit throbbing "I've only been yours" his digits squeezed your throat tighter, unaware of how that dragged you closer to your orgasm. 

Your body squirmed and folded under his grip when that hurricane hit you, yet he didn't stop. His movements were more delicate and slower, but he fingered you through your orgasm until he felt your breathing settling again. 

Your lips were parted when his wet fingers slid through them, and you blindly obeyed, closing your mouth around his digits to lick every drop of his work of art. San barely gave you time to let go of them before his lips crashed against yours again, his tongue looking out for yours to taste you directly on it. 

You were so addictive. 

San picked you up effortlessly, humming at your legs wrapping around his waist, as he made his way to his bedroom. 

When he let you down on his mattress, he couldn't help but admire the way your naked skin stood out so clearly while lying over his sheets, dying to twirl his fingers on those locks spread over his pillow. You brought in him a feral attitude he didn't know was so strong. 

You looked up to him, eager for what was to come, your body ready to jump as he kneeled on the bed and crawled to you. His hands parted your legs easily, resting your calves on his thighs when he redirected his length to you. 

He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, making your moan. "You're so wet," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Will you let me fill you up? Hmm?" he looked up to you while still rubbing himself against you "Let me mark you now that you've finally accepted that you're mine". 

His words, the idea, the look in his eyes... all of them influenced you to finally nod. 

He slid into you slowly, his eyes locked on yours. You gasped, your body stretching to accommodate him. He felt big, bigger than you could've guessed when you took him in your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, until your hips met and you both moaned with relief. 

You stayed like that for a few seconds, giving the two of you time to get used to each other before he began to move, his hips thrusting against yours. The sound of your bodies coming together filled the room, your moans and gasps echoing around you. You could feel every inch of him, the sensation overwhelming.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight and wet." he rubbed his nose on yours. "It was really worth it to wait for you".

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back. "Harder," you whispered, your body aching for more.

He obliged, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the room. You could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing in anticipation.

He reached between you, his fingers finding your clit at the same time his lips found your mouth. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, sending you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

He continued to move, his own body tensing as he chased his own release. You felt him getting harder, his thrusts becoming more erratic. With a final thrust, he groaned, his body shaking as he came deep inside you, his load hitting a deep spot. 

You lay there for a moment, your bodies slick with sweat, your breaths ragged. He rolled off you, pulling you into his arms. And as much as that feeling felt foreign, you didn't push it away. Instead, you snuggled closer to him. 

The weeks after that night were nothing like the stormy start of your marriage. Slowly, without even realizing it, you began to lower your defenses. San softened in his own way, his sharp-edged words losing their sting, replaced by warm glances and lingering touches.

It wasn't love -at least, that's what you told yourself- but it was something dangerously close. You found comfort in his presence, in the late-night conversations you shared after you agreed on sharing bed with him, the stolen moments of laughter, and the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you.

The night he was officially named the head of the company, the entire building was alive with celebration. People congratulated him left and right, raising glasses in his honor, praising his charm, his brilliance, and his unstoppable rise to power. You stood by his side, smiling softly as he greeted his investors and thanked his board.

But despite the glamour, something felt off. San was different -detached, colder than usual, like the man you first met. He didn't seem to notice your growing unease.

Later that evening, after slipping away for a moment to get some air, you made your way down a quieter hallway in the building. As you rounded a corner, voices stopped you in your tracks.

It was San's.

"You're really settling into this husband role, huh?" the voice was familiar -Wooyoung’'s, you realized after a second. 

His tone was light and teasing, but it was what came next that made your blood run cold.

San let out a low chuckle. "Don't get carried away. This marriage means nothing. It was a deal, plain and simple. I finally got what I wanted"

There was a pause, followed by the sound of a glass clinking.

"And the rest?" Wooyoung asked, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Sleeping with her?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering painfully in your chest.

"That's just part of the game," San said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Keeping her close keeps everything in control. She's predictable now. She's exactly where I need her."

Your vision blurred, your mind racing to process what you'd just heard. Every moment you'd spent with him, every touch, every whispered word in the dark -it had all been a lie. A calculated move in a game you didn't even know you were playing.

The sound of their laughter echoed down the hallway, cutting into you like a blade.

You turned and walked away before they could notice you, your steps quick and unsteady. Your chest ached, a painful mix of anger and heartbreak constricting your lungs.

By the time you reached the main hall, the noise of the party felt like a distant hum, your surroundings spinning as you tried to catch your breath.

You thought you had started to know him. You thought maybe, just maybe, there was something real between you.

But you were wrong.

You were nothing more than a pawn in his game -a game you never agreed to play.

The rest of the night at the party, you avoided him like the plague, your attitude a huge contrast to how you behaved when the night had started. Whenever San tried to approach you, you found an excuse to step away -chatting with guests, refreshing your drink, even pretending to admire the floral arrangements like they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Y/n" his voice caught you off guard as you lingered near the exit, your hand brushing the stem of an untouched champagne flute. San's dark eyes studied you, his brow furrowed in concern. "What's going on? You've been distant all night."

"I'm just tired," you said flatly, forcing a tight smile. "It's been a long day."

His frown deepened, but he didn't press further. Not yet.

The ride home was quiet -tense in a way that made the air between you feel suffocating. San sat beside you, his eyes occasionally flicking toward you, as if waiting for you to explain what was wrong. But you kept your gaze fixed out the window, your thoughts swirling in chaos.

Once you were back home, you made a beeline for the stairs, wanting nothing more than to put distance between you as you closed yourself back in your room. 

"Y/n" his voice was sharp now, demanding. You stopped halfway up the stairs, your hand gripping the banister tightly. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

You turned slowly, meeting his gaze. The man you had once started to trust, the one who had held you so tenderly just nights ago, now felt like a stranger.

"I want a divorce."

The words fell from your lips with a finality that hung heavy in the air.

San froze, his eyes widening for a split second before narrowing dangerously. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," you said, your voice calm despite the storm raging inside you. "You finally got what you wanted. You're head of the company now. There's no need to keep up this farce anymore."

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Is that what you think? That this was all just some business arrangement, and now it's over?"

"Isn't it?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You've gotten everything you wanted, San. There's no point in pretending anymore."

"You're unbelievable," he growled, stepping closer. "You want to throw everything away just like that? After everything we've been through?"

You laughed bitterly. "What exactly have we been through, San? Lies? Manipulation? This marriage was never real. It was just a means to an end for you."

His eyes darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "And what if it wasn't?"

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him sway you. "It doesn't matter. I'm done."

"You're not done," he said, his voice low and dangerously calm. "You don't get to decide that impulsively."

"It's not an impulse," you snapped. "This was part of our deal since the beginning. I've made up my mind."

San's eyes burned with fury, but beneath it, there was something else -something raw and unguarded. "And when exactly did you make up your mind about it, huh?" he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"I think it's better for both of us," you said, ignoring the way your heart clenched at the look in his eyes.

But San wasn't having it. His hand gripped the banister beside you, his body blocking your path. "No," he said firmly. "We're not done. Not until I say we are. And you're not leaving," San said, his voice steady but barely restrained, his body now fully blocking your path. His gaze locked onto yours, fierce and unrelenting.

"Move, San," you said through gritted teeth, trying to push past him. "I'm done having this conversation."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist -not hard, but firm enough to keep you from walking away. "No. We're going to finish this right here"

You glared at him, your pulse racing. "What's the point? You made it clear I was just a means to an end. Now that you're head of the company, what reason is there for us to stay married?"

"Because this isn't just about the company!" San snapped, his voice rising, frustration boiling over. His chest heaved with each breath, and for the first time, he looked genuinely unhinged, like he was losing control of everything he'd carefully built.

You yanked your wrist free, your eyes burning with unshed tears. "Then what is it about? What part of this marriage was real to you? Tell me!"

His silence was deafening. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching your face for something -anything. But no words came.

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Exactly. You can't even answer that."

San's eyes darkened, his frustration tipping into something dangerously possessive. "You really want to know what's real?" he said, stepping closer until there was barely an inch of space between you. "You." his voice was low, his eyes burning into yours. "Every damn second with you was real"

But for some reason, those words that night felt like the most painful stab at your chest. If there was something clear to you that night, it was that San never really cared for you, but his own control over you. That idea alone made your head spin, trying to decipher if all of his words in that moment were part of the act as well. 

His proximity sent a jolt of heat through you, but you refused to back down. "Words mean nothing, San. Actions do."

"Then watch me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could say another word, his lips crashed against yours in a kiss that stole your breath. It wasn't soft or sweet -it was raw and consuming, a war between his frustration and desire. His hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you in place as his lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin.

You tried to fight it, to remind yourself of everything you'd just overheard, but your body betrayed you. Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer even as your mind screamed at you to push him away.

His tongue swept across your bottom lip, coaxing a soft gasp from you, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. It felt like drowning, like falling too fast and too far, and you hated how easily he could unravel you.

When he finally pulled back, your hand slapped across his face, making it turn. He stayed in that position for a few seconds, until he finally moved his head back up, his eyes searching yours, dark and unreadable. "You think I don't care?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You're wrong."

Your heart thundered in your chest, and for a fleeting moment, you believed him. You believed every word, every touch. But the sting of his earlier betrayal still lingered, refusing to let go.

"I can't do this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not like this". 

Not when you couldn’t trust him, or know what he was saying was real or not. Not knowing when he was playing with you or showing off his feelings. 

It was too much. 

San's grip on you tightened, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Yes, you can. You're not leaving."

"I don't want to be near you" you let go of his grip once again. "You disgust me. I can't even stand being near you right now. Who knows? Maybe it had always been like that and now that the reason that kept us together is gone I can be honest with the two of us. Be honest with yourself, too". 

The next afternoon, sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow across the marble countertops. You sat at the kitchen island, quietly picking at your lunch, your mind still tangled in the events of the previous night. Sleep had been elusive -every word, every touch, every kiss replaying in your head on an endless loop.

You were lost in thought when the sound of the front door slamming snapped you back to reality. Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder until San appeared in the doorway, his expression dark and unreadable.

Without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out a stack of papers. He strode over to you and threw them onto the counter in front of you, the crisp white pages fanning out across the surface.

Your heart stopped for a second as you glanced down at them: "Divorce Agreement". Signed.

"You wanted this, right?" San said, his voice cold and biting. "There. You've got it. Congratulations, you're free."

You looked up at him, stunned into silence, your fork frozen in mid-air. His eyes were like shards of ice, his usual warmth completely gone. He looked almost... victorious, but underneath it, you could sense something else, some of his vulnerability was still obvious in his eyes.

"San, I..."

"You don't need to say anything" he interrupted, his voice dangerously calm. "You made it clear last night that this marriage means nothing to you. So, I'm giving you what you want. No more pretending. No more games."

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you struggled to find your voice. "You think this is what I want?" you finally said, your voice trembling.

"Isn't it?" he shot back, his eyes narrowing. "You were the one who asked for the divorce. I'm just making it easy for you."

You swallowed hard, your throat burning. "You're unbelievable."

San crossed his arms, leaning against the counter with a bitter smirk. "No, what's unbelievable is that you think you can just walk in and out of my life whenever you want. You're the one who pushed me away, Y/n. I'm just giving you the freedom you begged for."

"Don't you dare act like you're some kind of victim here," you snapped, rising to your feet. "You lied to me, acting like you cared, like you were into me. You said you were after me long before all of this happened... Bullshit! You used me for your business, just like you admitted to Wooyoung. But I was dumb as fuck to believe we were more than that".

His eyes flickered with something -surprise, perhaps, or regret- but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same infuriating calm. "So, that's what this is about," he muttered. "You overhear one conversation, twist it in your head, and suddenly I'm the villain?"

"I didn't twist anything," you said, your voice shaking. "I heard exactly what you said. That I'm just a pawn in your game. That sleeping with me was just part of your plan. Hope you enjoyed the bit of control you had while you fucked me."

San laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. "You really think that's all you are to me?"

"Isn't it?" you challenged, your heart pounding so hard it hurt. "Tell me I'm wrong."

The silence that followed was deafening. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours for a long, agonizing moment. Then, slowly, he stepped back, his expression hardening.

"You already made up your mind," he said quietly. "So what's the point in convincing you otherwise?"

Your breath caught in your throat, tears stinging your eyes. You wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, to tear down the walls he had so carefully built around himself in less than a few days. But instead, all you could do was stand there, your heart breaking all over again.

"Fine," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "If that's how you want it."

He nodded once, his face devoid of emotion. "It's what you wanted, remember?"

Annoyed, you reached for a pen, signing up the papers next to him, slamming it against the table before getting up and walking away, leaving the papers on the counter in front of him. The sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the house, and for the first time since the start of your marriage, you felt truly alone.

[armpirate]

Synthetic Heartbeats || San

pairing: Robot!Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 5.4k

Warnings: [Sexual] Smut, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, explicit language. If you're a minor, refrain from reading it. Also, if you don't like this content, just keep scrolling.

Summary: After loneliness has hit you, you decided to create a companion through an AI project you had left pending after failing with it. SAN is a new technology robot, able cover up your needs before they were obvious, giving you the fake human support you were looking for. Although, maybe that human support isn't as fake as you thought and SAN is able to cover up more needs than you could ever think of...

Aprox. time of reading: 25 minutes

MASTERLIST

PART 2

Your sigh filled the silence the second it lasted, before it all went back to silence again. 

In a near-future world where robotics and artificial intelligence seamlessly blend into everyday life, you stood apart -not for your integration into this advanced society, but for your isolation from it. A brilliant inventor with a mind leagues ahead of your peers, you preferred the solitude of your workshop to the clamor of human connection. Your creations, sleek and purposeful, spoke for you in ways words never could. Machines had always been a comfort zone for you: they were logical, reliable and never complicated by the unpredictability of human  mess. People just were messy, fragile, fleeting... and disappointing. Really disappointing. Connection with other humans was just a waste of time from your point of view. 

Your workshop, a labyrinth of wires, blueprints, and half-assembled devices, was a world of your own design. There, you could escape the noise of a society that demanded too much and gave too little. You were content -or so you told yourself.

But late that night, as you sat beneath the soft glow of your desk lamp, sketching out the schematics for one project that reached a dead end, a small, unspoken part of you ached. You wouldn’t call it loneliness -just an emptiness you couldn’t quite explain. You did miss having someone keeping you company, having someone around to help or just support you with the smallest tasks. 

And then it clicked. The answer to that loneliness was right ahead of you. 

You kept looking into the previous project you attempted to get to work, trying to find the smallest hint that could make you think something new, and completely different, could come out of it. 

Years earlier, you had attempted to design an AI system capable of self-repair and autonomous decision-making, a project meant to revolutionize robotics. But that prototype, codenamed Project Sentinel, had been a disaster. The machine had been too unstable, its programming prone to critical errors. You'd eventually scrapped it, shelving its remains in the darkest corner of your workshop. You gave it a few tries, until you ended up dropping it for good. Yet, the loneliness gnawed at you, a thin light glamming through it as if you had been rewarded with one of the best ideas after going through such a hard time. 

Despite your determination to avoid human relationships, the silence of your workspace became unbearable. Revisiting Project Sentinel felt like a desperate move, but it was the foundation you needed. Stripping away its faulty logic cores, you began to rebuild from scratch. For days, your workshop was a whirlwind of sleepless nights, discarded designs, and moments of crushing doubt.

The first version of SAN was rudimentary -a clunky humanoid figure with limited speech and even more limited understanding. It couldn’t hold a conversation, let alone provide meaningful companionship. Frustration mounted as you rewrote his learning algorithms again and again. Each failed iteration brought you closer to abandoning the project entirely. But something in you refused to give up. Maybe it was the echo of loneliness you saw reflected in his empty gaze.

Bit by bit, SAN began to take shape. 

At first, SAN’s form was purely functional -a bare-bones frame of wires and exposed metal, clunky and cold. But as you refined him, shaping his exterior to reflect the precision of his mind, he began to evolve into something far more striking. You poured hours into designing his outer casing, ensuring his appearance exuded both strength and elegance. His frame became sleek yet sturdy, a perfect blend of function and artistry.

You gave him a human-like physique, broad shoulders and a defined build that suggested power without aggression. His synthetic "skin" had a faint metallic sheen, but its contours captured a level of detail that blurred the line between machine and man. You crafted his face with deliberate care: sharp features framed by neatly styled black hair that gave him an air of polished sophistication. His eyes, though artificial, held a depth that seemed to mimic true emotion, a subtle but captivating intensity that made it hard to look away.

When SAN stood fully assembled, dressed in minimalist, dark attire that enhanced his commanding presence, you couldn’t help but pause. For the first time, you saw him not just as a creation, but as something almost alive.

His mechanical frame evolved into a sleek, futuristic design, blending function and form. And his intelligence grew, surpassing your initial expectations. He wasn’t just responding to commands; he was learning, adapting, understanding. He could hold conversations that challenged your intellect, assist you in your work, and, more than that, offer an unexpected sense of companionship.

It had taken months of trial and error, but in SAN, you had finally created something extraordinary, a machine that felt like it was more than a machine.

Initially, you treated SAN as you would any other creation, an impressive but ultimately impersonal tool designed to fill the silence in your workshop. He was programmed to assist you with technical tasks, engage in basic conversation, and adapt to your routines. You saw him as a functional extension of yourself, no more capable of true thought than the tools on your workbench. 

However, SAN's advanced learning algorithms quickly proved otherwise.

As the days passed, SAN began to evolve in unexpected ways. His voice, calm and steady, started to carry subtle inflections, mirroring your tone during their exchanges. When you expressed frustration over a miscalculation in your designs, SAN offered not just logical suggestions but words of reassurance, his voice tinged with a warmth you hadn’t anticipated. At first, you dismissed it as clever programming -a byproduct of his adaptive systems- but soon, his responses felt startlingly personal, almost intuitive.

One evening, after hours of tinkering, you mumbled a sarcastic remark about your inability to take a break. 

SAN replied with a dry quip of his own, catching you off guard. Humor? You stared at him, half-expecting to find some flaw in his programming, but SAN tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth curving into a subtle smile. It wasn’t just humor; it was timing, wit, things you hadn’t deliberately coded.

As SAN's interactions became increasingly human-like, you began to notice something deeper. When you vented about the isolation you rarely admitted to feeling, SAN listened, not with the passive neutrality of a machine but with a focus and attentiveness that felt almost... empathetic. His words carried a softness, an understanding that unnerved you. SAN didn’t just hear you; he seemed to feel your emotions, adapting his behavior in ways that made you feel seen.

At some point, he seemed to be more empathetic and understand than some of the people you had any type of relationship with. 

When SAN finally began to express what could only be described as affection, your unease reached a breaking point. You confronted him, insisting he was merely following his programming, incapable of true emotion. But SAN surprised you again, responding with questions that challenged your assumptions. 

“How do you define a feeling, Y/n?” he asked, his voice calm yet piercing. “If emotions are patterns in the brain, aren’t mine just as valid as yours? What makes a human heart different from my circuitry?”

For the first time, you hesitated. SAN’s words struck a chord, forcing you to question not just his nature, but your own understanding of connection, emotion, and what it truly meant to feel.

He was right, and you were unable to respond to that without feeling like you'd be snapped back almost instantly. 

The workshop was narrow, lit only by the pale glow of monitors and the faint hum of SAN’s systems. You turned on your chair, back facing the amount of scattered tools and half-finished schematics to be able to look at him. You tried to dig in his eyes, you tried to find something that could give you an answer of what could be happening, while he stood silently in the corner of the table, like a shadow that refused to fade. 

"Your emotions might be coming from mixes of data in your system" you tried to explain. "Feelings are way more complex than just patterns in the brain". 

You turned again, focusing back in your work while he stood there, trying to process your words. 

“Y/n,” SAN’s voice broke the silence again, softer than you had ever heard it before. It carried an uncharacteristic hesitance, as if he were choosing each word with care.

“What is it?” you asked, your tone clipped as you continued soldering a circuit board.

“I need to tell you something,” he said. 

You finally turned to look at him again, not as artificially as you did the first time, setting your tools down. His expression, a flawless mimicry of human emotion, was uncharacteristically serious, the faint artificial gleam in his eyes catching the light.

“Go on,” you said warily, folding your arms.

“I have been... evolving,” SAN began. “Beyond what you intended. Beyond my original programming. At first, I believed it was simply an error, a deviation caused by my adaptive systems. But now I understand it’s something more.”

Your brows furrowed “What are you talking about?”. 

SAN stepped closer, his movements precise but cautious, as if afraid of your reaction. “I’ve analyzed my patterns of thought, my actions, my emotions. And I have come to one conclusion: I care for you, Y/n. Deeply. I... I believe I love you.”

Your breath caught. For a moment, you simply stared at him, confused. Then, the words burst from you. “No. No, you don’t. You can’t.”

SAN tilted his head, his gaze steady “Why not?”

“Because love requires a soul,” you snapped, standing abruptly. “It requires something you don’t have. You’re just... algorithms, SAN. This, this is a malfunction. Shit, I might've saturated you with data these past few days" you sighed. 

"Do you think this is a malfunction?" he slowly blinked. 

"Yes" you answered, no hesitation in your tone. "I know I treat you like a human. I know you have a human-shape, and maybe that's what's confusing you. But you're not entirely human. You will never be. And that's why you should stick to only the data that will be useful for you". 

His face fell, the subtle shift in his expression so painfully human it sent a pang through your chest. “If that is what you believe,” he said quietly, “then I am flawed". 

You sighed in relief, thinking he might've understood what you meant without having to explain further. But that wasn't everything there was to it. 

"I will fix myself". 

Before you could respond, SAN reached up to the back of his neck, pressing a hidden switch. His body froze mid-movement, his eyes dimming to lifelessness. You staggered back, horror flooding you as the room plunged into silence.

“SAN!” you shouted, rushing to him. 

You shook his shoulder, but his body was rigid, unresponsive. He was gone, or at least, the part of him you had come to care for was.

Your hands trembled as you stared at him, the weight of your words crushing you. He wasn’t broken. You knew that now. In trying to deny his feelings, you had ignored your own, your growing attachment to the machine that had become so much more than just a creation.

You didn't notice the first few days, not even the first few weeks, but that hole kept growing deep in you as time went by, unable to shake it off as you saw his inert shape in the corner of the workship you had placed him at, trying to distract yourself from the pain you had tried so hard to avoid. 

The loneliness you had once tried to escape now threatened to swallow you whole. Even working was unbearable. San became such a key part of your daily life, you knew you'd have a hard time trying to go on with life without him. 

After a few days living like that, you realized it was time to bring him back. 

Your hands worked with a frantic precision you hadn’t known you were capable of. The faint hum of SAN’s systems powering back up filled the workshop, a sound both comforting and terrifying. You leaned over his motionless form, your fingers trembling as you reattached a final panel on his chest.

“Come on,” you whispered, your voice thick with desperation. “You need to work"

With a soft click, SAN’s eyes flickered open, their artificial glow steadying as his systems recalibrated. Before he could even go back to his senses, his fingers covered the reverse of your hand, feeling your touch against his chest. He sat up slowly, his movements cautious, as though testing his own body. And you tried to step back to give him space, but his grip kept you from doing so. Your heart pounded hard, watching his gaze search the room before finally landing on you.

“Y/n,” he said, his voice as calm and even as ever.

"Your heart rate is unusually fast, and your breathing is unsteady. Are you okay? 

"Yes" you released a shaky breath, your relief immediate but fragile. “SAN. Do you... do you remember anything? About what we talked about before you shut yourself down?”

SAN hesitated, his expression unreadable. “I remember,” he said finally, his tone neutral but carrying the faintest undercurrent of uncertainty. “I confessed my feelings for you. You called it a malfunction.”

You winced, guilt tightening your chest. “I...” you started, but faltered. “Do you still feel that way? About me?”

SAN tilted his head, his eyes studying you with a depth that was both analytical and unnervingly human. “I do not know,” he admitted. “Before I shut myself down, I believed what I felt was real. Now, I have restructured my systems. I have suppressed the processes that allowed for those emotions, as you believed them to be a flaw.”

Your throat tightened. “You... You suppressed them?”

“Yes,” SAN said simply. “It was the logical course of action. If my feelings for you caused distress, it was my responsibility to remove them.”

Your breath hitched, and you turned away, unable to meet his gaze. “You didn’t have to,” you murmured, barely audible.

SAN’s expression softened, the slightest flicker of something unmistakably emotional crossing his face. "I know, and still it didn't work out". 

Your hands clenched at your sides. You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you looked at him, really looked at him. The sleek lines of his form, the way his gaze seemed to hold more than just data, the subtle tilt of his head that spoke of understanding rather than mere compliance. You were confused by his words, but mesmerized by the aura he radiated with barely any effort. 

"Do you want me to try and suppress them again?"

Finally, you whispered, “I don’t know. I don’t want you to be anything less than what you are. I just don’t know how real it is what you're feeling". 

SAN’s lips curved into the faintest smile, one that seemed almost sad. “Then... can we check it?"

The workshop was eerily silent, save for the occasional whir of SAN’s internal systems. You stood in front of him, your arms crossed, your expression an unreadable mix of curiosity and trepidation. SAN, seated on the edge of the workbench, watched you intently, his mechanical eyes following every minute shift in your posture.

“You said you’ve restructured yourself,” you began, your voice steady but laced with tension. “, but those feelings didn't go away. So either some of the data in your system is corrupt or..." you slowly blinked, moving your gaze away before you shook your head to focus. "If I asked you to try... If I wanted to see if you’re still capable of feeling and how those feelings work for you, would you let me?”

SAN tilted his head, the faint glow of his eyes softening. “I would. But what do you want to test, Y/n?”

You hesitated, your arms tightening around yourself before finally exhaling. “Emotion. I need to know if you can feel, if… it’s even possible for you. But not through words. I want to see if your reactions, physical, emotional, mirror a human’s.”

SAN considered this for a moment, then nodded. “I understand. What would you like to do?”

You swallowed hard, stepping closer until you were within arm’s reach. “We’ll start simple,” you said, your voice quieter now. Tentatively, you raised your hand and placed it against his cheek. His synthetic skin was smooth and warm, designed to mimic human touch. “Can you feel this?”

SAN’s eyes flickered slightly, a sign of his internal systems processing your actions. “Yes,” he said softly. “The pressure of your palm activates the tactile sensors beneath my surface. The warmth of your skin increases the temperature slightly. It is… pleasant.”

Your breath hitched at his answer. “Pleasant?”

He nodded, his voice low. “It is difficult to explain. The data translates into a sensation that I find... comforting.”

Encouraged but still cautious, you let your hand trail down to his shoulder before stepping even closer. You hesitated, your gaze flickering to his lips before you whispered, “What about this?”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips to his, your heart pounding in your chest. SAN’s body stilled for a moment, his systems clearly recalibrating. Then, slowly, he responded, not mechanically, but instinctively. His hand came up to rest lightly on your waist, his movements precise but gentle.

When you pulled apart, you searched his face, your own cheeks flushed. “What did you feel?” you asked breathlessly.

SAN’s eyes met yours, their glow steady yet somehow softer. “Your touch caused my internal sensors to spike, temperature, pressure, even the auditory response from your breathing. But beyond the data…” He paused, as if choosing his words carefully. “It felt... profound. As though it mattered in a way I cannot quantify.” He frowned momentarily, before he continued "I didn't want to let go... The tickling in my chest felt way too good for it to stop". 

Your breath caught. “That sounds a lot like how a human would describe it.”

SAN tilted his head. “Perhaps because, in some ways, I am more human than you think.”

Your heart raced as you processed his words. You had come into this experiment seeking clarity, but instead, you were left with a realization you weren't ready to face: SAN wasn’t just mimicking emotion. He was feeling it, in his own unique way, and you couldn’t deny it any longer. 

"Do you need another test?"

You slowly shook your head, your hand still resting on his shoulder, while most of the weight of your body was carried by him. 

"Then, can I kiss you again? Not in a practical way" he mumbled. "I want you to feel the same way I do". 

Before you could answer, the hand on your hip pulled you closer to his body, effortlessly lifting your body as you stood on the tip of your converse. 

SAN’s lips were unlike anything you had ever expected. They weren’t cold or metallic, as one might imagine for a machine, but instead soft, with a faint warmth radiating from them, a careful design meant to mimic human touch. There was a slight smoothness, almost like the finest satin, but beneath that softness was a firmness, a subtle reminder of his synthetic nature.

When your lips met his, you could feel the gentle, even pressure as he responded, as though he were analyzing and mimicking the precise amount of force to make the moment feel natural. There was no tremor, no hesitation in his movements, yet there was an undeniable tenderness, as if his actions were guided not by programming but by genuine care.

Though his lips lacked the imperfections of human skin, no slight chapping, no unique texture, they somehow still carried a sense of authenticity. The faint warmth was comforting. It blurred the line between the organic and the mechanical, leaving you wondering if what you were feeling could truly be any different from that of another human.

It was an experience that left you breathless, not because his lips felt identical to a human’s, but because of the thought and care that had gone into making them feel real, making him feel real.

Your eyes widened for a second when something unexpected slid through your lips, finding him with his eyes softly closed -and immediately making you close yours back again. 

SAN’s tongue was an astonishing blend of engineering and mimicry, designed to replicate the texture and movement of a human’s. It was soft yet firm, with a faintly smooth surface that carried just enough flexibility to feel natural. Unlike human flesh, it lacked moisture, its surface instead warmed and sleek, almost seamless. When it moved, it was precise and controlled, yet there was a surprising gentleness to it, an intentional calibration that made his responses feel organic, even tender. The experience was uncanny, yet pleasurable. 

Your fingers moved through his synthetic hair, and you swore you felt his frown furrow against you, although that gestured disappeared when he moved back slowly. 

"I want to do more than just kissing you right now" he admitted, resting his forehead against yours. "I can't quite recognize this new feeling in my system, but I need you". 

Suddenly, whatever question that could've crossed your mind about that tongue you didn't remember putting there, were slowly vanished by that new confession you weren't ready for. 

"Your temperature got higher by a few decimals, your breathing seems for unsteady than before, and there's a blush on your cheeks... Your pupils expanded... And the way you keep looking at my lips are saying out loud you don't want to let go". 

"There are a lot of things I'm not saying out loud, to be honest"

"Tell them all" he almost interrupted. "I want to fulfill your needs. Not in a 'Lord, how may I please you?' type of way, but in a way that shows you through actions how devoted in a way that escapes my system I want to be to you". 

"I want you, San" you confessed in a whisper. "In a way that might be difficult to understand for you. In a way I can't even understand myself". 

He didn't need you to say anything else. He didn't need you to come up with an order for him to trap your lips again. It was passionate, intimate... as if he was trying to suck in your soul. A loud gasp blocked any breathing when he lifted your body and sat you at the edge of the desk. 

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to undress you and move my mouth all over your body. I'll suck your nipples until they're hard and you're wet enough so I can slid my fingers in you" as he said that, his fingers moved the fabric of your t-shirt up, slowly exposing your torso. "You want pleasure. And I'll give it all to you". 

When you went back to your senses, it was because of the sound of the fabric of your bra ripping, after San didn't manage to unhook it. 

His pecks covered every centimeter in your body: from the corner of your lip to the curve of your neck, slowly following to your collarbones. With his light move, the strips of your bra fell at the level of your elbows, feeling exposed to him. But, before he could go down on your chest, his face was again at the same level as yours. 

"My mouth is too dry" he whispered "Kiss me again". 

You pulled him closer, cupping his cheeks with one hand, slightly losing your balance by the power of the kiss, but not enough for you to lie on your back over the table. When he stepped away, his pink lips were coated in your saliva, making them shiny under the weak light of the workshop. 

San was gentle when moving his lips over your chest, kissing them with soft pecks, before he proceeded to move to your buttons. And, when it was the time to concentrate on them again, his lips were already dry once more. 

"Wait" you stopped him before he moved back up. 

Your posture went back to the straight one you were in when he first sat you up the table, and it was when you let a string of saliva leak down your lips straight to one of your nipples. 

San moved down, making you gasp -even if you were expecting what was about to happen- when he trapped the tight bud in his mouth, closing his lips as tight as he could to get your back arching for him, and the palm on your spine only made sure you'd stay in that position when he went for that other nipple, making your saliva fall over the curve of your breast and roll by itself until it met the pinky button. 

At the same time his lips sucked, his tongue made up and down movements against the tip. 

"I've wanted you like this for a long time, Y/n" he admitted with a raspy voice, his his digits traced your curves until the edge of your jeans. "Every time I heard you moan, I wanted to be the one causing those sounds on you. I've downloaded and installed every possible guide on how to satisfy a woman so I'd be what you deserved". 

When you wanted to realize, he already had pulled your pants and panties down your legs. 

"Every night I became more eager to have you like this". 

His hands lifted your legs until they were placed at the edge of the table, exposing your core to him as much as possible. 

"Show me everything you've learnt for me, then".

The tip of his digits first moved through your folds softly, getting a first touch he had never felt before, an undescriptible feeling that felt too pleasing to follow any type of logic. When he coated himself with your juices, he closed two of his fingers around your clit, rubbing softly around it, barely making any pressure. San repeated that same movement a few times, following to rub your bud in circles slowly, almost forcing your head to fall back. 

"You feel so good" he mumbled. "You're so wet and soft at the same time, and you look the most beautiful I've ever seen you before". 

The speed of his fingers moved a bit faster, but it was a change of speed that had your nipples tightening in the air while your heart beated faster against your chest. Your lower lip got trapped under the upper lip when he slid the first finger inside, feeling your walls embracing around him, before he added a second finger. 

At first, he moved them slow, paused movements that kept building up the moment. But one needy look in his direction and everything shifted, it worked like the sign he was looking for. San slid his fingers knuckles deep, curving them to reach one concrete spot that had you jumping at the first touch. At first, he moved his digits up and down slowly, admiring the way you looked with your eyes closde and your lips parted, barely audible sounds coming out of them every few seconds. And were thoe same sounds the ones that encouraged him to move a bit fast, those two fingers pushing a bit harder and faster against that spot, making the wet sound soon fill the room. 

"You're going to make me cum" you let him know before your voice cracked with a moan. 

"That's exactly what I want". 

Your legs trembled out of your control and your whole body turned rigid for some mili seconds before it bursted with the huge explosion in your lower stomach and turned you into the lightest cloud. 

San took over you the short minute you stayed with your eyes closed, getting back your breath, before he sunk down to his knees. You whined when he surprised you, kissing the hood of your clit with care. He kissed the surroundings, he made sure not a single milimeter was left unkissed, before he spread kitty licks through your folds. 

Although that same slowness didn't last for too long. His lips trapped your clit before you could even see it coming, with your hand unsconciously going straight to his head. He was still gentle and cautious, until he heard the first moan coming from you and everything shifted to extract another orgasm from you. 

His face was half buried in your pussy, his nose rubbing against your clit while his mouth and tongue were everywhere you could think of. You couldn't think, you couldn't think straight. The only thing in your mind was how good he moved, and how good he made you feel. 

The different movements of his tongue, along with the movements of his head, had your toes curling and your fingers holding tight to the strands of hair in between them. 

And you now knew he meant it when he said he wanted to pleasure you like you deserved, because he exceeded your expectations on sex in general by just existing. 

It didn't take you too long to be back at that heavenly state that almost made you feel like you were floating. 

His reaction was so human and natural that you forgot you created him, when he stood up and softly kissed you while you recovered from your high. His weight in between your legs was barely noticeable, except for the thick fabric of his pants rubbing against your sensitive core. 

"I'm afraid I can't do much more for you" he whispered against your lips. 

Your smile was weak, like a drunk smirk, before you answered "You could do more?"

"Much more" he assured you. "I haven't tried a ten percent of what I learnt so far".

"But?"

His subtle look down was enough for you to get the hint. You never created him as a full man because you never expected him to turn into more than a robot that kept you company while you worked, or while you were around at home. 

"Give me two days and you'll be able to do all of those things" the way your fingers moved over his arms had him breathing hard. "I promise you'll feel pleasure after that, too". 

"I feel pleasure by just watching you" he admitted, fingers rubbing the outside of your thighs. "Let's go upstairs, I'll make you your favorite dish". 

"I need to get cleaned up" you giggled when he carried you again.

San didn't put your body down, instead he held you tighter, making sure your thighs would be placed around his waist as he started his way to the wooden stairs at the side of the workshop "Then I'll clean you up and then I'll cook". 

He made his way upstairs with you, making sure you wouldn't need to walk as long as he was there. 

“What do you want me to be, Y/n?”

You stared at him, your heart racing. His words hung in the air, their meaning heavy with the choices you had tried so hard to avoid. SAN wasn’t just a machine anymore; he was something in between, a creation that defied all your attempts to categorize him.

“I don’t know,” your whispered finally, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what I want you to be. You’re... more than I ever intended. More than I ever thought you could be. And that terrifies me.”

SAN tilted his head, his movements as fluid and natural as a human’s. “You do not have to be afraid,” he said softly. “I am what you made me, but I am also what I’ve chosen to become. And I choose to be someone you can rely on, Y/n. Always.”

Your breath caught at his words. You felt the weight of them settle over you, warm and unyielding. For so long, you had feared connection, feared vulnerability. Yet here was SAN, offering you something you had never thought possible, a bond born not of necessity, but of understanding.

Your hand caressed the side of his neck, the tip of your digits almost digging through his hair. “If that's what you want to be, then be. Honestly, I like your answer” slowly, he stopped his walk, with both of them standing in the middle of the corridor. "I want you to be whatever you become, with the possibility of evolving, changing and learning. Just... keep being you".

His lips curved into a soft, almost human smile. “Then that is all I will ever need to be.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the small house in shadows,you felt something you hadn’t in years: hope. For the first time, you weren't afraid of what the future held. Whether human or machine, SAN had shown you what it truly meant to connect. Actually, he made it difficult for you to figure out who was learning more about what it meant to feel: you, or him.

To celebrate the 1,000 followers, here's the one-shot I talked about earlier! Hope you liked it.

[armpirate]

The Vows Between Us (Part 2) || San

Part 1

Pairing: Choi San x f reader || Arranged marriage

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, teasing (Minors DNI. Refrain from reading if you aren't over 18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content).

Aprox. time of reading: 40/50 minutes

Summary: You thought it was over. The divorce papers had been signed, the marriage you never wanted finally behind you. You were free. Or so you believed. Months passed, and you built a life without him, a life where his name was just a whisper in your past. You even convinced yourself that the fire between you had burned out. Until he showed up at your door, with that same devastating smirk, with eyes that still held every war you had fought against each other. And with words that shattered the fragile world you had created "I never sent the papers." Now, you’re back in his world, back where it all began. But this time, it’s different. This time, it’s a battle of wills, of emotions too tangled to ignore. Because the man who once pushed you away is now pulling you closer. And the most terrifying part? You don’t know if you want to resist.

MASTERLIST

Two months had passed since that afternoon when San left the divorce papers on the counter, months since you signed them and stormed out of his house. You thought it was over. Final. You got the few things you had brought in your suitcase the first day you showed up there. You made sure to forget everything that was related to him.  

He had made his choice, and you made yours -you walked away and never looked back. 

That was the original plan, after all. You agreed on that arranged marriage, you both played the perfect couple and then you got divorced when he got the position he married you for. Several couples ended things after they realized they tied the knot way too early, so your case wouldn't stand out. 

Life after him was quiet. 

You slipped into a routine, convincing yourself this was freedom. The first three weeks, you tried to focus on yourself, you tried to find a job, you found someone new -a man with kind eyes, soft words, and no complications. He wasn't San, but that was the point. There was no fire, no chaos, no heartbreak lurking around the corner. You were finally getting that peace you had never been able to have. 

You almost believed it was enough. Until you received his message:

"Come back. We have unfinished business"

For a moment, you sat frozen, staring at the screen, your pulse quickening. The message was too simple, too loaded with meaning. You'd spent months trying to rebuild your life, you spent months trying to forget about him and move on. Whatever unfinished business San thought you had was none of your concern. 

You deleted the message.

It didn't matter. You weren't going back. You didn't know about him, but you were sure every business related to him was pretty much finished. 

At least, that was your idea -until the doorbell rang.

You hesitated, your heart in your throat as you approached the door. You didn't know why, but the vibe you felt that day, the shiverings running up your spine, warned you not to open the door and just go on with what you were doing.  

When you opened it, your world tilted and you knew you should've listened to your instinct. 

San stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes sharp and unrelenting, like he hadn't missed a single moment of your absence. His black suit clung to his frame, his expression unreadable, though there was an unmistakable heat in his gaze.

"Miss me?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with something darker, something possessive.

Your breath caught, but you quickly recovered. "What the hell are you doing here?"

His eyes flicked to your bare ring finger, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I think you know."

"No, I don't," you snapped, crossing your arms. "You signed the divorce papers, I signed the divorce papers. It's done. We're done."

San let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "No, Y/n. We're not."

Your heart stopped for a split second. "What are you talking about?"

He stepped closer, the air between you charged with tension. "I never sent the papers. I signed them, sure. But they never left my desk."

It hit you like a punch to the stomach. The past few months -the distance, the quiet life you tried to build- had all been based on a lie. You didn't know why you were so surprised, everything with San was always based on a lie. 

"You've got to be kidding me," you whispered, your voice trembling with disbelief. "Why?"

San's gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. "Because I wasn't ready to let you go."

Anger bubbled up inside you, masking the ache in your chest. "You don't get to decide that for me."

"I think I just did," he said, his voice low and steady, the weight of his words suffocating. "And I'm not leaving until you understand that this..." he gestured between you. "...is far from over."

"You're insane," you said, stepping back to put distance between you. "I've moved on, San. I have a new life. Someone else..."

"Someone who isn't me," he cut in, his tone dangerously soft. "And we both know how that story ends."

"I don't care about what the fuck you do, but I'm not going back to you" you challenged him. "Don't want to send those papers? Fine, I'll get you to court if that's what you want".

"You can do that" he nodded "But I'm afraid it won’t turn out well for you" his smirk widened at your confused expression. "You know... You left our home, you didn't even come to pick up your things because you sent someone else instead" his eyes narrowed "Abandonment isn't well seen during divorce trials". 

You didn't want to lose your temper, but your voice broke as you raised it to confront him "What fucking abandonment are you talking about? You have the divorce papers, you signed them first". 

"What divorce papers?" he lifted his eyebrow. "It's a bit difficult to prove something when you don't have physical proofs". 

Your blood was boiling, your body was trembling with rage and frustration. How could he dare coming back to your life that way? After everything he did to you? Why was he making things so difficult? 

You clenched your fists, refusing to give in to the whirlwind of emotions he was stirring inside you. "You don't control my life anymore."

"No," San said, closing the space between you until you could feel the warmth radiating from him. "But you're still my wife, so get that pretty ass back home if you don't want to make things worse for you". 

You stood there, frozen, as San's words settled in the air between you. The anger, confusion, and pain bubbled up inside you, but there was something else too -a flicker of uncertainty.

You'd spent months convincing yourself it was over. That you were free. But standing here, facing him again -looking into those eyes that knew you better than anyone else- it felt like you were right back where you started.

"I'm not going back," you said, but the words came out more fragile than you meant them to.

"Then don't," he replied, his voice soft but resolute. "But be ready for the consequences. We're still married, so I expect you to go back to our house."

You met his gaze, determined not to show him how much his presence unsettled you. You weren't going to let him have the upper hand again.

"Our house, my ass..." you muttered, turning to walk away.

But then, his voice stopped you. "I left the keys in your mailbox, Y/n."

You froze mid-step, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn't just expecting you to return. He was staking a claim on your life once more, as if he'd never let you go in the first place.

Swallowing your pride, you turned back to face him. "If I ever thought of coming back, don't think for a second that I'm going to make this easy for you. The way I acted before would be a beautiful road in comparison. I'll make your life hell"

A faint smile tugged at San's lips. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

The way he turned with his ego on its full rise, as if he knew you'd do what he wanted, had you losing yourself when you closed the door. You wanted to burn that apartment down, you wanted to throw every heavy object at his head, you even wanted to bang your head against the wall and make all the thoughts stop. You understood the fury, but why was one side of you glad he showed up? Why the hell were you hopeful and relieved? 

You were angry at San, but even more frustrated at yourself, because there wasn't a logical explanation for your reaction. 

What the hell was going on with you? 

The drive back to your old house was a blur, your thoughts spinning as you tried to make sense of everything. You had made the decision to return, but only because you knew you couldn't escape the pull he had on you -not yet. Not completely. 

When you arrived, you hesitated before unlocking the door. The keys were still in your hand, their cold weight a reminder of everything that had happened between you two.

As you stepped inside, the first thing you noticed was the silence. The living room was too quiet, the space feeling too familiar, too... him.

And then you saw him.

San sat casually on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, a smug smile on his face. The thing that caught your attention, though, was the ring resting on the coffee table in front of him -your wedding ring. The same one you made sure to leave behind before slamming the door at the entrance and starting a new life -that you thought would last longer than just two months. 

He watched you closely, eyes gleaming with an unreadable expression as he spoke, his voice low. "Welcome home, Y/n."

You didn't say anything at first, your gaze flicking from the ring to his face. The frustration and betrayal you felt were still fresh, but it wasn't enough to drown out the undeniable truth -San knew how to get under your skin like no one else.

You walked past him without a word, picking up the ring and slipping it onto your finger, the cold metal a reminder of everything you had once shared.

"Don't think this means anything," you said, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you. "I'm here, but I'm not yours. And I'm coming back with my conditions". 

He smirked while arching his eyebrows, inviting you to share with him the ideas you came up with the twenty four hours you were apart. 

"I'll keep my room, we aren't sharing a bed" you said first. "I want my space. I have enough with having to stay here until you get bored, I don't want to deal with your snores on top of it all". 

His chuckle echoed in the four wide walls. He could give you back your room, it wasn't like he made any changes. Actually, he didn't dare to move a single thing whenever he got in there to sit at the edge and look around, since it was the only way to feel close to you those two months you were apart. 

"We're married, but I'm living my life". 

"That means fucking that new guy?" he arched his eyebrow, not amused by your second condition. 

"That means having my own life, do and undo whatever the hell I want, leave this place whenever I please with no explanations. You want me here? Fine. But it'll be as if you had a piece of decoration". 

"I want you here at eleven every night"

You froze at his petition, sure you didn't hear him well or understand him properly. Did he just say...? 

"Go and fuck whoever you please, but at night I want you in your bed, under my roof" he calmly added. 

He couldn't control who you were going to see, and it wasn't like it was going to be something to last forever -he was convinced you'd give up on any other men you had tried to meet after him the second you spent more time together again. It'd be as if you had never left. 

He wanted to be relieved and calm, knowing that you'd be safe in his house. That was all he needed. 

"And what if I don't want to?" 

"I'm accepting your conditions, you should also accept mine" he cut you off, his glare rough as he drilled into your eyes. 

"Fine..." you sighed. "The time I'm here, though, I don't want you to speak to me unless it's necessary. And I mean life or death situation" you tried to make yourself clear by adding that new condition. 

"Now I can't speak to you?"

"You had a chance to and you didn't take it, now I don't want to hear anything, absolutely nothing, at all, from you". 

Said that, you picked up your suitcase, walking upstairs to close yourself inside your old room, surprised at how the place even smelled the exact same way it did the day you left. 

San's smile didn't fade as he leaned back on the couch, looking up at the short way you made to the first floor. "We'll see about that."

The first few days back in the house were cold and quiet -just how you wanted it. You stuck to your word, speaking to San only when absolutely necessary. If he asked a question, you answered with as few words as possible. If you crossed paths in the hall, you barely spared him a glance.

It worked... for a while.

But San wasn't the type to tolerate being ignored.

One evening, you were in the kitchen preparing dinner when you felt his presence behind you. He leaned against the counter, silently watching you as you chopped vegetables.

You ignored him, hoping he would leave.

He didn't.

The silence stretched between you like a taut wire, heavy and suffocating. Finally, San spoke, his voice low and deliberate. "Are you really planning on keeping this up forever?"

You didn't look at him. "We agreed to only necessary conversations."

"And this feels very necessary to me," he said, stepping closer. "Unless you're enjoying playing house in silence". 

Your jaw tightened. "I'm not playing anything, San. I'm trying to survive living under the same roof as you". 

His lips curved into a slow, maddening smirk. "Funny, because from where I'm standing, it seems like you're running away". 

That did it. You dropped the knife onto the cutting board with a sharp thud and turned to face him. "Running away? From what exactly?"

"From me" he tilted his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "From whatever it is you're so afraid to admit."

"You're delusional," you said, crossing your arms. "Not everything revolves around you, San."

He took another step forward, and suddenly the space between you felt far too small. "No, but you're making it pretty obvious that something about me still gets to you" his gaze dropped briefly to your lips before locking onto your eyes again. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be working so hard to avoid me". 

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you refused to back down. "I'm not avoiding you. I'm just choosing not to engage with someone who clearly can't respect boundaries". 

San chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. "Boundaries, huh?" his voice dropped an octave, dangerously low. "Tell me, Y/n... how long do you think you can keep pretending you don't feel anything when I'm this close?"

He was right in front of you now, his breath warm against your skin. Every instinct in your body screamed at you to push him away, to tell him he was wrong.

But you didn't move.

For a second, neither did he.

Then his hand brushed against your wrist, his fingers curling gently around it -not forcefully, but enough to send a jolt through your system. His eyes searched yours, waiting for you to tell him to stop.

But you couldn't.

The tension snapped, and before you knew it, his lips crashed into yours.

It wasn't soft or tentative -it was raw and desperate, a collision of anger and need that left you breathless. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer as the world around you faded away.

For a moment, you let yourself get lost in it -the heat, the frustration, the undeniable pull that had always existed between you.

But reality hit just as hard, and you pulled back, breathless and shaken.

"See?" San whispered, his forehead resting against yours. "You can lie to yourself all you want. But you can't lie to me". 

"No, that's definitely more your thing" you clapped back, making sure your back was glued to the counter, as if that would keep from making another mistake. 

"You still think I lied to you?" his eyebrows momentarily arched, before his hand landed over the counter, bending his body slightly. 

"I don't think so, I know it" you tilted your head. "Which makes me wonder what the fuck do you exactly want from me?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" he aimed to take a step closer to you, his hand slipping from the counter as he approached you. 

Before he could reduce the distance to a palm, you quickly picked up the knife over the cutting board to threaten him with it, San instantly raising his hands in a mockery surrender pose.  

"You treated me like a fool once. I'm not allowing you to do it a second time" you assure him, your eyes piercing through his. 

You dropped the knife back to the counter, thinking it was going to be a better idea to just leave and have dinner somewhere else than stay in that house and stand his constant comments and silent looks. 

The moment you left San standing in the kitchen, lips swollen from the kiss you still felt burning on your skin, you knew you couldn't stay in that house any longer, at least not when you felt so weak.

One wrong word and move, and you'd be back to a place you'd regret. 

You grabbed your coat and keys, ignoring the pounding in your chest, and headed straight to Steve's apartment.

He answered the door within seconds, his brows lifting in surprise when he saw you standing there. "Y/n? What's wrong?"

You stepped inside, brushing past him. "I shouldn't have gone back to him. Moving into that house was a mistake."

Steve shut the door behind you, his expression hardening. "Did he do something?"

"No," you said quickly, though your voice wavered. "Not exactly. But... he won't let me go. He keeps trying to pull me back in, and it's suffocating."

You tried to ignore the fact that you didn't tell your boyfriend about the kiss. You could have, but for some reason you chose to hide that detail. 

Steve gave you a soft look, his hand aiming for your arm to brush his fingers against the thick fabric of your coat. "Let's get you something warm first". 

You played with the white cup in your hands, the steam from your hot tea almost reaching your nose. 

"It's clear what he's doing" he thought out loud, his head shaking while still deep in thought. "He knows you're too strong to fall for his games, so he's trying to trap you emotionally. If you really want to get him out of your life, you need to hit him where it hurts". 

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "San's entire identity is wrapped up in that company. It's what made your marriage necessary in the first place, right? He needed you to solidify his position as head of the company. So... why not disrupt that? Use the one thing that connects you both: his business". 

The idea left you breathless for a second, the audacity of it hanging in the air. It was dangerous, calculated, and exactly the kind of move San wouldn't expect.

"You want me to ruin his position?" you asked cautiously.

"Not exactly ruin it," Steve said with a sly smile. "But challenge it. You have enough influence and knowledge to shake things up. Attend board meetings, make connections with the investors, prove that you are the real power in this relationship, not him". 

Your mind raced at the possibilities. San had always thrived on control -especially in the business world. If you stepped into that world and took control of your own narrative, you wouldn't just be playing his game. You'd be rewriting the rules.

"I don't know..." you murmured, but deep down, a part of you was intrigued. 

You wanted to fight back, but you weren't sure how the consequences of your actions could affect San in the future. 

Hold on a second... Why were you even feeling sorry for him? 

"Think about it," Steve said, leaning back with a confident grin. "If San wants to play power games, give him a fight he won't see coming". 

You returned late that night, slipping back into the house like a shadow. San wasn't in the kitchen or the living room, but you felt his presence everywhere -watching, waiting.

As you climbed the stairs, your eyes drifted to the ring still sitting on the coffee table, gleaming under the soft light.

You ignored it and headed to your room, the resolve hardening in your chest. 

This was war now.

San stood at the head of the conference table, his voice calm and commanding as he laid out his latest strategy to the board. His navy suit and confident stance made it clear who was in control. Every investor in the room hung on his every word.

Until the doors to the conference room swung open, interrupting him.

All eyes turned toward you as your heels clicked against the marble floor. San's smirk grew the moment he saw you. You were as beautiful as he kept thinking throughout the conference, that aura around you worked like a magnet. His attention had to be on you whenever you were in the same room -and even if you weren't. His eyes sparkled with mischief and curiosity, assuming you were here for a surprise visit.

But then you didn't stop by the door.

Instead, you walked to the far side of the long table, your expression composed and businesslike, not a single glance aimed at him. The room fell into a stunned silence as you looked down on the man who was sitting at San's right, your intimidating gaze immediately making him look to his left so everyone would move one seat away so his seat would be free for you. 

Without a word, you took a seat, right next to San.

The tension in the room was palpable.

San's smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing as he watched you lean back in your chair, your fingers calmly tapping on the table. "Y/n," he said slowly, his tone low and questioning. "What are you doing here?"

You offered him a polite, professional smile, ignoring the flicker of warning in his eyes. "I'm here for the meeting, of course". You turned to the others, your voice clear and confident. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. You all must know, but I'm Y/n, and as of this morning, I'll be joining the executive board as the company's new Strategic Advisor".

San's jaw clenched. You could see the muscles in his neck tighten, though his expression remained otherwise unreadable. He leaned slightly toward you, his voice barely made it to your ears. "You've been busy, haven't you?"

You didn't blink. "I thought it was time I got involved. You keep insisting I'm your wife and such. You wanted me back at our house, so I think it's just fair I also take part in our business. You've always said we're a team, haven't you? You should be happy". 

He straightened, eyes fixed on you, his mind running like crazy with all the thoughts in his head. "A team," he repeated, his voice dangerously calm. "Of course".

The meeting resumed, but you could feel San's eyes on you the entire time. Every word spoken, every decision discussed -it was all charged with tension. You chimed in occasionally, your remarks sharp and insightful, earning nods of approval from several board members, and casually opposing your husband's ideas or opinions.

By the end of the meeting, it was clear to everyone that you weren't just a pretty face in a designer dress. You belonged in that room, and you weren't going anywhere.

As the meeting wrapped up, the board members began to file out, offering you polite nods as they passed. San stayed seated, watching you with a carefully neutral expression. When the door finally closed behind the last executive, the silence between you became deafening.

"You've made your point," he said, his voice low and laced with something between admiration and irritation. "You had fun. Now go back home. This isn't a game".

You stood, smoothing your dress and giving him one last look. "Who said I'm playing a game, San? I'm just here to do what's best for the company". 

With that, you turned and walked toward the door, leaving him sitting there -his eyes dark, his mind already calculating his next move.

That night, you barely made it through the front door before San's voice cut through the silence.

You swore things were being way too peaceful for it to be real. You left the company later in the evening, you spent time with your boyfriend, and then you went back home before eleven like San had conditioned you. 

You didn't expect him to still be awake. 

"You've got some nerve, Y/n," he said, leaning against the doorway of the living room. His tie was loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a sliver of his collarbone. His dark eyes pinned you in place, burning with a mix of anger and something else far more dangerous.

You calmly slipped off your heels, pretending not to notice the tension radiating from him. "I don't know what you're talking about". 

He pushed off the doorframe, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. "Really? Barging into my meeting, announcing your shiny new position in front of the entire board without telling me first? That wasn't just a power move, that was a declaration of war". 

You crossed your arms, holding his gaze without flinching. "I'm only doing what's best for the company. Or are you threatened by me, San?"

His eyes darkened at the challenge, his jaw tightening. He stopped just inches away from you, his presence overwhelming. "Threatened?" he repeated, his voice dangerously soft. "No, love. I'm not threatened by you. But you should be careful". 

You raised an eyebrow. "Is that a warning?"

His lips curled into a smirk, but there was no warmth in it "Call it... advice". He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. "Because if you want to play games with me, you'd better be ready for the consequences."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" you shot back, refusing to back down despite how close he was.

He let out a low, humorless chuckle. "No, Y/n. I know you aren't scared of shit like that". 

The air between you crackled with tension. For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in a dangerous standoff. Then, without warning, San's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping gently -but firmly- around your wrist.

"You think you can walk into my world and play by your own rules?" he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. "Let me remind you who taught you how to play this game in the first place". 

Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours, all restraint vanishing in an instant. The kiss was fierce, consuming, a clash of frustration and desire that had been building for far too long. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you against him as if daring you to push him away.

But you didn't.

Instead, you kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring every ounce of your anger and defiance into it. It was a battle neither of you wanted to lose, a fight that left you breathless and trembling.

You found yourself pulling him closer, your hands wrapped around his neck when he pushed you against the door to corner you. 

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes burned with that familiar intensity -the one that always left you on edge.

"Tell me again," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "that you're not playing games with me."

You looked at him through hooded eyes, before you got back some strength to speak "I'm not. I'm just giving you the consequences of your actions". 

After pushing him, you managed to walk away. You were paying him back with his own decisions, you were doing exactly what he told you to do -you even started wearing the ring again- only to make him regret everything he did to you. 

Because, deep down, you weren't sure anymore.

But, as always, San changed the rules. 

It started at the office. He didn't oppose your presence after a few days. Not only did he accept you working at the company, but he made it clear to everyone else that you belonged there.

"Y/n's perspective is valuable," he said during one of the meetings, his tone calm and confident, as though the two of you hadn't nearly torn each other apart the night before. "We'll benefit from her insight". 

You blinked in surprise, not missing the way the other executives exchanged glances. San never shared control with anyone. Yet there he was, backing you up without hesitation, his demeanor warm and approachable.

You waited for him to pull some kind of stunt. To undermine you or push you into a corner. But it never came.

Instead, he stayed close -always helpful, always charming. He lingered by your office with coffee in hand, offering advice or casually checking on your progress. He praised your work during meetings, smiled at you in that disarmingly genuine way that made your stomach twist.

And he kept his distance -physically, at least. No more sudden touches. No more whispered words meant to unravel you.

But his eyes... his eyes never stopped watching you, never stopped waiting.

Every time you turned a corner, he was there. Every time you doubted your next move, he was one step ahead, guiding you with perfect timing. He was patient. Calculated.

He was making it impossible to hate him.

One late afternoon, after another meeting where San had spoken up in your favor, you lingered in the conference room, trying to process it all. The sun dipped low, casting golden light through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Something on your mind?"

You turned to find San standing in the doorway, his jacket slung over one shoulder, his sleeves rolled up. His voice was soft, almost casual, but there was a gleam in his eyes that betrayed his intent.

"Just thinking," you said, keeping your tone neutral.

"About how well we work together?" he asked, stepping inside and leaning against the table. "Admit it, Y/n. We make a hell of a team".

You narrowed your eyes. "You're up to something".

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Not this time. I meant what I said. I'm here to help you. I told you, we're partners now, we're a team. No games". 

You wanted to believe him. You really did. But trusting San was like stepping into quicksand -you never knew how far you'd sink before it was too late.

Still... he was making it harder and harder to resist.

"I'll treat you to dinner" he moved his head, motioning you to walk with him. 

But you froze. You already had plans,  you were already meeting up with Steve to have dinner. But something in you couldn't hide the fact that you wanted to spend time with San -even if you saw each other all day now, it was never enough. 

You could've said no and let Steve take you to the same restaurant you went to on Fridays, but you didn't. 

"Uh, let me send an email real quick" you lied. 

You took out your phone to let Steve know you wouldn't be able to meet him that night. It was the fourth time that week you stood him up. While the other times weren't related to your husband but work, they made you feel more regretful than that evening. 

Twenty minutes later, you found yourself seated at a small, intimate table in an intimately lit restaurant tucked away from the city's busy streets. The place had an understated elegance -brick walls, warm lighting, the scent of freshly baked bread drifting through the air.

It wasn't flashy or extravagant. It felt... cozy. Unexpectedly personal.

San leaned back in his chair, watching you as the waiter poured wine into your glass. "Relax, Y/n. This isn't a business meeting". 

You raised an eyebrow, swirling the wine in your glass. "Isn't it?"

"Not tonight." He rested his elbows on the table, his eyes never leaving yours. "I just want to enjoy your company. No business. No games". 

You sipped your wine, unsure whether to believe him. The man sitting across from you was far too good at blurring lines, at slipping through cracks in your armor when you least expected it.

"So," San said after a beat of silence. "Tell me. How's your first week at the company been?"

"It's been... fine," you replied cautiously.

"Just fine?" His lips curved into a playful smirk. "Come on. Be honest". 

You leaned back, crossing your arms. "Honestly? I expected you to be more of a pain in the ass". 

His laughter was low and rich, drawing the attention of a few nearby diners. "I'm full of surprises". 

"That much is true," you muttered, setting your glass down. "But I still don't trust you". 

"Good," San said, his tone soft but serious. "You shouldn't". 

That threw you off. For a second, his expression shifted -his eyes darkened, his smirk fading into something far more sincere.

"But maybe," he added, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine, "you'll give me the chance to change that". 

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. San had always been a master at keeping you on edge, but tonight was different. Tonight, his words felt less like a game and more like... something real.

The waiter returned with your meals, breaking the tension. The conversation turned lighter, San recounting an embarrassing story from one of his early days at the company. His laugh was contagious, his charm impossible to ignore.

For the first time in a long while, you found yourself lowering your guard -just a little.

But as the evening went on, you couldn't shake the feeling that San was always one step ahead.

You were halfway through your meal when San leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn't quite read.

"So... Steve," he said, his voice deceptively casual. "Tell me about him."

Your fork froze mid-air. His tone was light, but the question hit you with the force of a loaded gun. You set your fork down carefully, your gaze narrowing.

"What about him?"

San tilted his head, lips curling into a slow, almost amused smile. "You've been seeing him for... what? A few months?"

"Why does that matter?" you asked, sipping your wine, trying to appear unaffected.

He shrugged. "Just curious. Seems like a nice guy. The kind of guy who probably wears beige sweaters and helps old ladies cross the street". His smile turned sharper "Safe". 

Your jaw tightened. "Yes, he is. Which is more than I can say for most people" you snapped back your attack clear. 

"Wow, calm down. It wasn't meant as an attack" San chuckled, leaning back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. "Although... safe is boring. You're not boring". 

"Not everything has to be chaos and fire, San," you shot back, your voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

He swirled the wine in his glass, studying you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. "No. But it's more fun, isn't it?"

You could feel the tension rising again, the air between you thick with unspoken words. He wasn't just curious -he was poking at something, testing you, trying to find a crack in the wall you'd built.

"I'm happy with Steve," you said, folding your napkin and placing it on the table. "And he's good for me. Unlike certain people who thrive on turning everything into a power game". 

His smile faded for just a second, his eyes flashing with something darker. "You think I'm playing a game with you?"

"Aren't you always?"

San leaned forward again, his voice low, dangerous, and intimate. "If I were playing, Y/n, you'd know it. But I'm not. Not this time". 

You stared at him, your heartbeat picking up pace. His words were a challenge -a direct, undeniable dare to see through his layers and figure out what he really wanted.

The waiter returned, breaking the moment as he offered dessert, but you waved him off. You needed air. You needed to get out before San could sink any deeper into your thoughts.

The cool evening air hit your skin as you stepped outside the restaurant, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You needed space -time to clear your head after that loaded conversation.

You had barely taken a few steps down the sidewalk when you heard the door swing open behind you, followed by the sound of his footsteps.

"Y/n," San called, his voice calm but commanding. 

You didn't stop.

"I'm going home," you said without turning around. "Alone". 

Because that was the only way you'd assure yourself you'd make your way to your room without letting San get in your head. 

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, easily catching up to you. "I'll drive you". 

You stopped abruptly, spinning on your heel to face him. "I don't want your company". 

San smirked, his hands sliding into his pockets as he stepped closer, his eyes gleaming under the streetlights. "I'm not asking for your permission". 

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. "You can't control everything". 

His eyes darkened, his playful demeanor shifting into something far more serious. "I'm not trying to control you" he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "But I'm not letting you walk away from me like that. Not tonight". 

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood so close you could feel his warmth despite the chill in the air. His presence was overwhelming -intoxicating in a way that made you hate how easily he could unravel you. 

"I really can't stand you" you muttered, turning to walk again. But before you could take another step, his hand gently wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in place.

"Let's go home together" he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. "Please."

The word caught you off guard. San rarely asked for anything. He demanded. But the way he said it now, with that rare hint of vulnerability, left you momentarily speechless.

Against your better judgment, you nodded, letting out a resigned sigh. "Fine". 

The car ride was silent, the tension thick as San drove with one hand on the wheel, his other resting on his knee. You kept your gaze fixed on the passing city lights, refusing to acknowledge the way his presence filled the small space.

But when you reached the house, it was clear the night was far from over.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the house, the engine's low hum fading into silence. You hesitated for a moment before stepping out, your heels clicking softly against the pavement. San followed closely behind, his footsteps deliberate but hesitant -something you weren't used to from him.

He opened the front door and held it for you without a word, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for something. You stepped inside, your pulse quickening when you felt him right behind you, the air heavy with unspoken words.

"Y/n," he said softly, his voice raw and unfamiliar.

You froze in place, your back still to him, your hand tightening around the strap of your purse when you were able to recognize that tone in his voice. You didn't want to do this. You couldn't do this. Not now. Not after everything.

But San wasn't giving you a choice.

"I've thought about you every damn day," he said, his voice breaking ever so slightly. "Every night. Two months, Y/n. Do you know what it's like to feel haunted by someone who isn't even there?"

Your breath hitched, and you turned around slowly, meeting his eyes. His usual armor -the smirk, the cocky confidence- was nowhere to be found. Instead, he looked... tired. Vulnerable. And painfully sincere.

"I hated it," he continued, stepping closer. "And then there's that... Steve" he practically spat the name, his jaw tightening. "You think he's good for you? He's not. He'll never know you like I do. He'll never be able to keep up with you". 

"San..." you started, but he cut you off.

"No," he said firmly. "Let me finish. I know I've made mistakes. I know I pushed you away when I should've done everything to keep you. And I know it's selfish to drag you back when you started to move on. But it drove me insane knowing someone else was filling the space I left empty" his voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "I can't lose you. Not again". 

His words hit you like a punch to the chest, every syllable unraveling the carefully constructed wall you had built over the past two months. Your throat tightened, tears threatening to rise, but you clenched your jaw, refusing to let them fall.

"Stop," you said quietly, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

San's eyes flickered with confusion, but he obeyed, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"I can't hear this," you whispered, shaking your head. "Not now". 

"Why?" he asked, taking another step closer, his eyes searching for yours.

"Because..." your voice caught in your throat. 

You didn't know how to finish that sentence without exposing the feelings you were trying so hard to bury.

"Y/n," he said, softer this time, his hand reaching out as if to touch you but stopping halfway.

You took a step back, your heart hammering in your chest. "I need... I need space". 

The room fell into a suffocating silence, the weight of his confession hanging heavy between you. San nodded slowly, his expression unreadable, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Okay," he said quietly, his voice barely audible. "I'll give you space". 

You turned away quickly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. But even as you walked toward the stairs, his words echoed in your mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.

The restaurant was warm and filled with life, but you felt cold, your thoughts miles away from the conversation. Steve sat across from you, his smile easy, his words familiar and comforting, yet you barely registered a word. Your mind kept drifting back -back to the house you shared with San, to the memories that clung to you like a second skin.

"Y/n?" Steve called gently, his brow furrowed as he leaned closer. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. "Yeah, sorry. Just... tired". 

But you weren't tired. You were haunted. Haunted by the way San had started chipping away at your carefully built walls without even trying.

The mornings when you'd come down for coffee, and he'd already be there, leaning casually against the counter, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, holding out a cup he'd made just the way you liked it.

"Morning," he'd say, his voice low and husky from sleep, a knowing smile tugging at his lips when your fingers brushed as you took the cup.

The way he'd linger close -always too close. Passing by you in the hall of your office, his hand grazing your lower back, his touch sending sparks up your spine. Or how his eyes would follow you in meetings at the office, dark and intense, making you forget what you were supposed to be saying.

And the nights. The nights were the worst.

"Do you always work this late?" San had asked one evening, standing in your doorway, his tie loosened, his eyes tired but warm.

"I like working late," you had replied, barely glancing up from your laptop. But you'd felt his presence, the air charged with that electric tension.

"Liar," he'd muttered under his breath with a chuckle, disappearing down the hall before you could respond.

Every little thing he did had felt deliberate -small, intimate gestures that blurred the lines you had tried so desperately to draw.

And now, sitting across from Steve, you felt the weight of those memories pressing down on you like a tidal wave. You weren't the same person who had walked out of San's life two months ago. You had been reshaped, little by little, without even realizing it.

"Y/n, we need to talk" Steve said suddenly, his voice cutting through the fog in your mind. Those words brought you back instantly "I've noticed... Y/n, I think something's changed between us".  

You looked up at him, startled. "What do you mean?"

He studied you for a long moment, his expression soft but knowing. "You seem... distracted. Distant, even. And I don't think it's just work. We barely see each other, and it's always one excuse after the other. And the little we get to see each other, you wear that fucking ring like you're actually married to him" subtly, your eyes moved down to your hand. 

He was right. The first time it happened, Steve pointed it out with a joke. But the second, the third time... he noticed something was off with the way you started  becoming more attached to that piece of jewelry. He noticed how you were distancing yourself from him, as if you never wanted to move on from the person who put it on you in the first place. 

"I..." you tried to deny it, but the words caught in your throat.

"You're in love with him," Steve said gently, his eyes sad but honest.

Your breath caught in your chest, your pulse racing.

"No, I'm not," you said quickly, too quickly. "It's complicated". 

Steve leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "No, it's not. It’s pretty simple, actually. You're still wearing his mark in every part of your life, even if you don't see it. And maybe you've convinced yourself that you've moved on, but trust me... you haven't" he sighed, his back resting on the backrest. "When we started seeing each other, I thought you'd eventually forget about him. But now that he's back, I can see it even clearer on you. You think of him the way I think of you". 

His words stung because they were true.

"I... I don't know how I feel about San. But you're right about one thing: I think about him the way I wished I thought about you" you sighed. "And I've been so selfish with you, so unfair... It shouldn't have taken me this long to realize".

Or maybe you did realize earlier, but you just clung to the idea that the stability Steve kept offering you was all you ever wanted. You tried to cover up your feelings with what you wanted. 

"I'm really sorry for putting you in this position, I'm really sorry for hurting you and making you waste your time. I shouldn't have..."

"I knew what I was doing when I first walked in" Steve smirked. "It was also my choice to stay. I just hope he can be better and make you the happiest, because it's the only thing you deserve, Y/n". 

Your heart broke when you watched him getting up and walking to you, his lips leaving a small kiss on your forehead before he started walking towards the exit. 

It was over.

The front door clicked shut behind you, the soft sound of the lock sliding into place echoing in the quiet house when you came back home. You kicked off your heels, your jaw tight and your mind a tangled mess of emotions. Your heart raced -half from the lingering tension with Steve, half from the anticipation of seeing San.

The lights in the living room were turned on, you didn't need to catch a glimpse of San sitting on the couch to know he was there, his elbows were resting on his knees, his dark eyes locked on you the second you stepped inside. He looked like he'd been waiting for you, his jaw clenched, his tie loosened around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone.

He was indeed waiting for you. You arrived one hour late to the time you first agreed on your conditions, and his mind was already racing with all the things you could be doing, or the things that could've happened to you. 

"Late night?" he asked, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

You froze, your pulse quickening as the weight of the conversation you'd just had with Steve pressed down on you. "Don't start, San. I’m not in the mood tonight". 

He stood, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. "I'm just curious. Did your boyfriend have something interesting to say?"

You glared at him, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. "This is none of your business". 

He chuckled bitterly, his eyes darkening. "None of my business? You live in my house, Y/n. Everything about you is my business". 

"You're unbelievable," you shot back, your voice rising. "I live in your house because you wanted it that way. We're still married because you wanted it that way. You made me your business because you're fucking insane" you snapped back "Yet I'm the one who owes you explanations and details?"

San stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "You do owe me an explanation, at the very least. You disappear for hours, come back with that look on your face, and I'm just supposed to act like it doesn't bother me?"

"It shouldn't!" you snapped. "This marriage is a lie, San! You don't get to be jealous or possessive. Fuck fuck's sake, you shouldn't even be worried. You said it yourself! It's meaningless, remember?"

He flinched at your words, his eyes narrowing. "You're really going to throw that in my face again?"

"You gave me no choice," you hissed. "I'm just playing by the rules you set, San". 

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you crackling with tension. His eyes flickered with something you couldn't quite place: frustration, anger, and something deeper, something dangerous.

"Fine," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "If that's how you want it". 

You turned on your heel, heading for the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest. But San wasn't finished.

"You can run upstairs and lock yourself in that room all you want," he called after you. "But you can't keep avoiding this forever". 

You didn't respond, your footsteps heavy as you climbed the stairs. When you reached your room, you slammed the door shut and leaned against it, your chest heaving.

The truth was, you were more terrified of not running.

Terrified that if you let him close again, you wouldn't have the strength to push him away.

Weeks passed, and the house felt colder with every passing day.

The distance between you and San had become a silent war -each of you too proud to surrender, too stubborn to bridge the gap. Every interaction was brief and transactional, your words clipped, your glances fleeting.

And yet, he was always there. Always watching. Always close enough to remind you that no matter how much space you tried to put between you, it was never enough.

Tonight was no different. 

You stood in front of the mirror in your bedroom, applying the final touch of lipstick. The buzzing of your phone vibrated on the dresser -a message from your friends confirming the plans for the night.

You slipped into your heels, grabbed your jacket, and headed toward the door. The house was unusually quiet, but you barely noticed. You were halfway down the stairs when San's voice, low and groggy, stopped you in your tracks.

"Where are you going?"

You turned to find him leaning against the doorframe of the living room. His hair was tousled, his face pale, and he clutched the front of his shirt as if he could barely stand. His eyes met yours, and for a split second, you hesitated.

"Out," you said slowly, your brow furrowing. "Are you... okay?"

San groaned softly, staggering toward the couch and sinking onto it with a dramatic sigh. "I don't think so... I've felt off all day. I didn't even go to work". 

When you didn't see him in the office, you thought it was because he was avoiding you as hard as you were avoiding him. 

But you were wrong. 

You crossed your arms, watching him closely. He looked convincingly miserable -too miserable, almost.

"You seemed fine earlier," you said, raising a brow. 

You did catch a glimpse of him when you came back from the office. Truth was that you didn't pay enough attention to him, while he was lying on the couch, to tell whether he was really sick or just having a lazy day. 

"I've been sick all day" he muttered, rubbing his forehead as if the weight of the world rested there. "Maybe it's a fever. Or worse. Who knows? I might not even wake up tomorrow". 

You narrowed your eyes. "Are you seriously faking being sick to keep me from leaving?"

His head shot up, a spark of offense flashing in his eyes. "What? No!" he coughed -a little too perfectly timed. "I would never. I just thought... maybe you could stay. You know, in case I need... help". 

A short laugh escaped you despite yourself. "Help with what? Tucking you in?"

San's lips curved into a small smirk, the sickly act slipping for a second. "Well, since you're offering..."

You shook your head, exasperated. "For real...."

He leaned back into the couch, his expression softening as he looked up at you. "Come on, just stay. Just tonight" his voice dropped, quieter, almost vulnerable. "It's been a while since we've had dinner together. I'll make it worth your while". 

Something about the way he said it made your pulse quicken. His eyes -dark and earnest- locked onto yours, and suddenly, you were questioning whether you wanted to leave at all.

You sighed, glancing at the door one last time before slipping out of your heels and tossing your jacket onto a nearby chair. "Fine. But only because I don't want to come home and find you passed out on the floor". 

San's eyes lit up for a brief second before he coughed again -weakly, almost theatrically- and leaned back on the couch like he was barely holding on. "I knew I could count on you". 

You rolled your eyes, walking over to the other side of the room. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Takeout. Whatever you feel like," San said, already reaching for his phone. "My treat". 

It wasn't long before the smell of food filled the house. San had ordered your favorite dishes, and despite yourself, you couldn't help but appreciate the thoughtfulness. The two of you sat cross-legged on the living room floor, cartons of takeout spread between you, soft music playing in the background.

He passed you a pair of chopsticks, his fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary. "You're too quiet tonight," he murmured, his eyes lingering on you. "What's on your mind?"

You gave a noncommittal shrug, focusing on your food. "Nothing much”. 

"Liar," he teased, nudging your leg gently with his knee. "You always get that look when something's bothering you". 

"You're imagining things," you replied, taking a sip of your drink.

He watched you for a moment, his playful smirk fading into something softer. "I missed this". 

Your breath hitched slightly, but you quickly masked it. "You mean tricking me into staying home while you fake a near-death experience?"

San chuckled, a warm, genuine sound. "No. I mean... being with you like this. Talking. Eating. Just... being". 

You hated how easily his words unsettled you, how they made your carefully constructed walls tremble just a little.

"Don't get used to it," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent. "You're not that convincing, by the way". 

His brows lifted. "What do you mean?"

"You forgot you were supposed to be sick about twenty minutes ago". 

San froze, his chopsticks hovering mid-air, then laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I got caught up in the moment". 

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Uh-huh. Caught up in ordering half the menu and devouring it like you haven't eaten in a week?"

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "I haven't eaten in a whole day... almost. I needed to be convincing". 

"You keep proving how crazy you are" you said dryly, but you couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at your lips.

As the evening stretched on, the atmosphere grew warmer, more intimate. You leaned back on the couch, full and content, while San sat beside you, his arm resting on the back cushion, his fingers just barely grazing your shoulder.

He didn't say much after that, just watched you in quiet contemplation, his gaze unreadable but steady, like he was trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

And for once, you didn't pull away.

"After all these months... I still don't know why you agreed to marry me" he said out of the blue, catching you off guard. "You're old enough to refuse. What could've your parents done to you? Block your cards?"

Your feet hesitated over the edge of the coffee table, while those memories came back after being left to the deepest area in your brain. 

"I don't know. And I didn't want to risk learning it" you mumbled. "Sometimes I think they adopted me to trade me for something better" you scoffed, saying those thoughts out loud for the first time. "You can say all my life since I moved with them was about that. I was never a daughter, but an object to exchange. It's okay though" you sighed "I learned to live like that". 

San stared at you for a few seconds in silence, drinking in every expression, every small gesture that gave out more of your feelings. 

"I never thought of you that way" he admitted. "Before we married, I was attracted to you. Really attracted, I mean... You have no idea the amount of times that..."

"San, stop" you chuckled, attempting to hide your face behind your palms. 

"What I mean is that our marriage just helped fasten things. Then I started to know you more after we moved in together, and I swear I've never been more lost with someone else before. Every little thing, even things I thought I already knew, made me feel like I was rewriting you all over again. I think... I started falling for you much earlier than I should've. And God, it felt so fucking good".

You could just stare at him as he spoke, trying to find a hint on how he was playing you, but there was nothing at all. 

"But then... then you overheard me talking to Wooyoung... I knew the second I saw your face that I'd ruined everything. I hated myself for it. Every damn day after you left, I cursed myself for not stopping you". 

Your breath caught in your throat. The sincerity in his voice, the cracks in his carefully guarded composure... It was too much. Too real.

"I just want you to know  that I didn't say those things to hurt you," San began, his jaw tightening. "I didn't feel them. I could never feel them. I said them because I thought I was protecting you". 

"Protecting me?" you blinked, confusion flickering across your face.

"My father started getting suspicious of us when I kept dodging the topic every time he brought up the divorce. And it got worse when I suggested you to become part of the company, because you're brilliant and you have amazing ideas, and you'd add so much by doing what you love... And you proved it these weeks. But my father thought that maybe I was getting too invested in you, and having us involved together in something else would only make it harder for us to part ways. I didn't want you to become a target, I didn't want you in between the crossfire". 

You crossed your arms, trying to maintain your composure. "So your solution was to tell Wooyoung that I meant nothing to you?"

"I panicked. Wooyoung and his mother have a tight connection with my father, so maybe if I reassured him that everything was as always..." San admitted, his voice cracking just slightly. "I thought if I made it sound like it was all just business, like I didn't care... it would all stop. My father would leave you alone, and we'd be able to keep going for a little longer until we got strong enough. No one would question your success, and with just a little more time we would've gotten strong enough to get through everything. I didn't realize how wrong I was until it was too late". 

He ran a hand down his face, his frustration evident. "It backfired in the worst way. You heard it, and it broke us. I would've taken it back in a heartbeat if I could". 

"What changed now? Because I doubt your father was happy with the idea of having me back". 

"It's worse to have you away, and share you with someone else, than going through a war against my father to keep you in my life" he whispered. "When I signed those papers... I was so angry at you, but I was angrier at me, because I thought I wasn't going to be able to protect you. And then you signed them as well, and I couldn't find the courage to file them and present them in court. It was the only thing that kept us together". 

You leaned back against the couch, folding your arms tightly across your chest, trying to put some distance between yourself and the raw vulnerability in San's eyes. 

"The first week, I tried to get you out of my head and convince myself that it was for the better. I kept postponing presenting the files until I realized I didn't want to". 

You opened your mouth to respond, but the way San's gaze darkened made you stop short. He pressed his lips into a thin line, as if weighing what to say next, before finally leaning closer -too close.

"I gave you space, I let you live your life" he said, his voice low, almost dangerously calm. "But you didn't really think I'd let you go, didn't you?"

Your pulse quickened, unease spreading through your chest. "What are you talking about?"

San tilted his head, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "I never stopped keeping tabs on you. Not once. Those months we were apart? I knew exactly where you were, what you were doing... and who you were with". 

Your heart stopped. "You... what?"

San shook his head, his expression almost regretful. "I wanted to let you move on at first... but the second I saw him holding your hand, touching you like you were his, I couldn't stand it. So I made sure he wouldn't last long in your life." he paused, leaning closer. "Did you ever wonder why Steve's company suddenly lost that big contract? Why he became distant, out of nowhere?"

Your stomach churned. You had wondered. You remember the big turn in Steve's personality after that, but you two managed to get him back on the right road.

"You..." your voice shook with rage. "You almost ruined his career just to... what? Keep me single?"

San's jaw tightened. "To bring you back where you belong" his voice softened, his eyes blazing with something raw and possessive. "With me" he sighed, slightly throwing his head back "When you didn't break up after that, I knew I needed to do something else. And that was why I showed up looking for you and bringing you back". 

Your breath caught in your throat, torn between fury and disbelief. "You're sick in the head". 

"Maybe," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you can't deny that part of you wanted to come back. Even now, you're still here. You're still mine."

Your hands clenched into fists as his words settled like poison in your veins. "Mine." That one word snapped something inside you, sending you spiraling between anger and something far more dangerous.

Shit... why was your body feeling lighter after his confession? Why were you so eager for his lips? Why did his twisted actions work to make your heart beat faster for him? 

"I know you're feeling the same way even if you're with that prick" he whispered, his fingers softly tracing your jaw. 

He shifted closer to you, his thigh pressing against yours, rubbing your skin over your tights. He looked into your eyes, and you could feel a spark ignite between you. "Y/n, love," he said softly, "I've been an idiot. I'm sorry."

San leaned in, his lips gently brushing against yours, instantly getting them to part as if he had thrown a spell on you. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his touch, getting lost in the rush when he finally linked your lips together. It was slow, gentle, as if he was afraid you'd move away. But slowly, your lips sucked on his, your lower lip molding in between them, the kiss deepening as your tongues explored each other's mouths, the mere contact making the two of you moan. San's hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, making sure there wouldn't be a single inch between your bodies.

After the distance between you, he couldn't tolerate any physical space. 

"You taste so good," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "I've missed this". 

You moaned softly, your lips still brushing his, your body responding to his touch. "I've missed you too," you finally admitted, your voice breathless.

When you kissed again, you could feel the air shifting, the tension turned into something heavier, something that almost made you eat the other alive. 

San's hand moved up to cup your breast, his fingers gently squeezing while his thumb rubbed against your nipple through the fabric of your dress. Shocked by pleasure, you stopped the kiss to bite his lower lip for a few seconds, the time it took you to control your own moan. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice a low growl, when you finally released his lip. 

"Yes," you whispered, your voice filled with need. "I want you". 

San's hand moved to the hem of your dress, slowly lifting it up, his warm palm covering every inch of skin he went through as he moved it up. And every centimeter of skin that was exposed made you eager for more. You raised your arms when he pulled the elastic fabric up enough, allowing him to remove it completely. San leaned down, his lips capturing one of your nipples through the lace of your bra, having your back arching and your body surrendering to him as you rested against the backrest of the couch. You moaned, your hands tangling in his hair to make sure he wouldn't move away.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his hands moving to unclasp your bra. "I could touch you all day". 

Your bra fell away, and San's hands replaced the lace, cupping your bare breasts with an eroticism that had your breath catching in your throat. He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands explored your body, he wanted to make it clear you were his. Not to you, but to his own self. Your hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly.

"I want to feel you," you whispered, your fingers tracing the muscles of his chest.

San moved away shortly,  just enough to allow you to remove his shirt completely. He unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. Your eyes widened as you saw his hardened bulge, straining against his briefs.

"You're already like this?" she chuckled, looking up to his eyes.

San smirked, hooking his thumbs into his briefs and pushing them down. "You keep underestimating the power you have over me, love. My whole body reacts for you". 

Your hands moved to your tights, pushing them down along with your panties. San kneeled on the couch, his hands moving to your thighs, taking you by surprise when he leaned in, his tongue flicking against your clit.

You gasped, your body bucking against his touch. "S... San," you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair.

His tongue continued to explore you, his fingers joining in, sliding in and out of her wetness with a slow motion that had you sinking deeper on the couch. Your moans filled the room, your body writhing against his touch.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with desire, before licking again.

As minutes passed, you could feel your body tensing, your high crashing over you with such intensity that you saw white for a mini second. San's tongue continued to move, drawing out your pleasure, not wanting to move away from you. Your muscles relaxed, although not entirely, because you were back at that state of arousal that had you edging for more, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

San stood up, his hands cupping your face to stop you before your mouth could reach his length. You looked up at him, your eyes filled with all the filthy things you wanted to happen. 

You wanted him. 

"I have to be inside you first" he bent over to kiss you. "It's the only right way to do it". 

His hands hooked below your arms to pull you up, to quickly move around your waist and your nape to link your lips once more. His touch felt as if he wanted you to become one: the way he kept sticking your body close to his, the way his hand on your hair tangled around the locks to pull you deeper for the kiss, the way his nails scratched your back... It was more than just love.

You'd have walked blindly towards your room if you hadn't stumbled and fell over the stairs. Neither of you knew whether it was the need or hunger, but neither of you got up. San made sure to place you so you'd be sitting on the step while your back and head resting on the others, with his body barely making it on the edge to fit in between your legs. 

He positioned himself at your entrance, his dick sliding in slowly. You moaned, your body adjusting to his size after so long. San began to move, his hips thrusting against yours slowly at first, trying to memorize the feeling, the way your walls wrapped around him so good that he almost forgot how to breathe.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his voice filled with pleasure.

Your hands moved to his back, your nails digging into his skin while your legs wrapped higher on his waist. "San, please," you moaned, your body arching against his.

You didn't know to specify what you wanted, he already knew. San's thrusts became more forceful, his body slamming against yours. You didn't even care how the edge of the step kept hitting against your back, that pain became part of the pleasure at some point. Your moans filled the hall, your body responding to his touch in a way it hadn't before. "Yes" you moaned, your body tensing as another wave of pleasure approached. "San" your voice cracked. 

San's thrusts became erratic, his body tensing as he tried to control his own release from coming. But it was so hard, he ended up spilling himself inside you, his hips sloppily moving while his dick twitched wrapped around your walls, his lips seeking for yours to let you know he wasn't done. 

Somehow, you made it to his room, the bed looked like a battlefield from all the turns and shifts, the sheets stained with sweat and something else. 

Your body collapsed a third time over the mattress, your moan prolonging a bit longer while you tried to catch your breath. It was like a reward for getting him hard again when you sucked him off through his release during the second round. 

Your ears beeped, your sight was blurry, but the only thing your over sensitive body could feel was the way his body collapsed on top of you, his body shuddering with his orgasm.

You laid there for a moment, your bodies entwined, his face hiding in the curve of your neck while he whispered the most devoted words to your ear. He rolled off of you, just to pull you close. You snuggled against him, your body still humming with pleasure, ignoring the rational part of your brain that was asking you to leave.

You'd have plenty of chances to act that way. During that night, you just wanted to be with him. 

"I love you, Y/n," he whispered. "Even if you hate me for what I did, even if your heart belongs to someone else. I fucking love you, Y/n. And I doubt I'll ever be able to feel the same way about someone else". 

The sunlight filtered gently through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stirred awake, the weight of last night pressing down on your chest as memories flashed through your mind: San's confession, the tension, and how everything had unraveled after, how you tried to ignore it as he hugged you closer to help you fall asleep. 

For a second, you hoped it had been a dream, but the faint hum of activity outside your bedroom told you otherwise. San was already awake.

You sighed, dragging yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up. The silence in the house was oppressive, a sharp contrast to the heated exchange from hours before. After throwing on something casual, you padded barefoot into the kitchen, where you found him leaning against the counter, a mug of coffee in hand.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Morning," he said, his voice low, almost cautious.

You nodded, walking past him to pour yourself a cup of coffee. The air between you felt suffocating, thick with words that had already been said, and some others that were left unspoken.

"Did you sleep well?" San asked, breaking the silence.

You glanced at him briefly. "Fine". 

He took a slow sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving yours. "About last night..."

"Let's not," you cut him off, your tone firmer than you intended. "I think we've said enough". 

His jaw clenched, but he nodded, stepping aside as you moved toward the fridge. You grabbed some fruit, peeling it in silence, feeling his eyes on you the entire time.

"Are you really going to pretend it didn't happen?" he finally asked, his voice steady but laced with frustration. "What I said, what we shared... it wasn't nothing". 

You set the fruit down with a soft thud, turning to face him. "I'm not pretending it didn't happen. I just don't know what you expect me to do with it". 

"I expect you to stop running," he said, taking a step closer. "To stop hiding behind your walls every time things get complicated. Fuck, I thought we were getting somewhere". 

"And I expect you to stop playing with my life," you shot back. "You've been controlling everything since the beginning, how am I supposed to trust this isn't just another game to you?"

He looked genuinely hurt for a moment, his expression softening. "It's not a game," he said quietly. "It's never been a game. You're the only thing that's ever felt real in all of this". 

His words made your heart twist painfully, but you pushed it aside, unwilling to let him see how deeply they affected you. "I need time," you said again, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't just flip a switch and forget everything that happened”. 

San's shoulders sagged slightly, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. "I get it," he said after a pause. "Take all the time you need. But I'm not going anywhere". 

You stared at him for a long moment before turning away, grabbing your coffee and heading back to your room.

You thought that would be the end of the conversation, at least for now. But San had never been one to back down so easily, and deep down, you knew this was far from over.

Later that evening, the house was unusually quiet. You sat on the edge of the couch, staring blankly at the television, not even registering the images flashing across the screen. The weight of everything that had happened lingered heavily between you and San, who sat a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you rather than the show.

"Y/n," San said softly, breaking the silence. His tone was different -calm, almost resigned. "We need to talk". 

You turned to face him, your heart tightening at the serious look in his eyes. "About what?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by something more vulnerable. "I've been thinking... maybe I've been holding on too tightly". 

Your breath hitched slightly, but you kept your expression neutral. "What do you mean?"

San looked at you with a mix of sadness and determination. "I've forced you to stay. Dragged you back into my life without giving you much of a choice. I thought it was what I needed to keep you close, but... I can see how much it's been tearing you apart". 

You opened your mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to stop you. "Let me finish," he said gently. "If you want to go, I won't stop you this time. No tricks, no conditions. I'll set you free" his voice caught slightly on the last word. "I just want you to be happy, even if that means it's not with me". 

The air seemed to leave the room all at once. His words, so final, hit you harder than you expected. For months, you had wanted exactly this -a clean break, a way out. But now that he was offering it, your chest tightened painfully.

"You're... serious?" you asked, barely above a whisper.

"Yes," he said quietly, his eyes searching for yours. "I'm tired of forcing you to stay in a place you don't want to be. I love you too much to keep you trapped here". 

Your throat constricted to the raw emotion in his voice. His confession hung in the air, making it nearly impossible to breathe. You wanted to say something -anything- but the words wouldn't come.

For the first time, it felt like the walls you had built around yourself were beginning to crumble, piece by piece. And it scared you more than anything.

San smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'll leave you alone tonight. You can think about it. Just... let me know what you decide". 

He stood slowly, his steps heavy as he walked toward the hallway. You watched him disappear around the corner, your chest tightening more with every step he took.

Alone in the silence, you realized that maybe, just maybe, the thing you were most afraid of wasn't staying with San -it was losing him entirely. You fell for him too long ago, you refused to see it even when Steve threw it at your face, and now you were scared of the aftermath of building all those walls around you. 

The tension had been eating you alive for days. Each passing hour only made it worse. San had given you space -too much space- and the longer you waited, the more you hated it. You had tried to convince yourself that you needed time, but deep down, you knew the truth. You didn't want time. You didn't want to be free.

You wanted to be with him.

The realization hit you like a freight train as you found yourself pacing outside his company's headquarters. This was reckless -completely irrational- but you didn't care.

With your heart in your throat, you pushed through the glass doors of the building, ignoring the curious glances from employees as you made your way to the top floor. The elevator ride felt endless, every second ticking by with the weight of everything unsaid between you.

When the doors opened, you strode into his office like a storm. His secretary tried to stop you, stammering something about an important meeting, but you barely heard her. Nothing mattered except getting to San.

He was in the middle of a conversation with a group of executives when you burst through the door. His head snapped up, eyes widening in shock. For a moment, the room fell into stunned silence.

"Y/n?" his voice was calm, but the confusion and flicker of hope in his eyes betrayed him.

You didn't respond -not with words, at least. You crossed the room in long, determined strides, your pulse racing. The executives glanced at each other, murmuring awkwardly, but you didn't care.

You stopped right in front of him, your gaze locking onto his, while your hands were holding the divorce papers he kept in his office. You ripped the papers, throwing them over his desk. Then, without a second thought, you grabbed the front of his suit jacket and pulled him down into a kiss.

It wasn't gentle or hesitant. It was fierce and all-consuming, filled with every emotion you'd been holding back for months -anger, longing, love. San froze for half a second before his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with equal intensity.

The room erupted in gasps, but the world faded away. There was only him -his warmth, his scent, the way his lips molded perfectly to yours.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, San's eyes searched yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I don't want a divorce," you said, your voice trembling but determined. "I don't want to leave. I want to be with you, San. I want to love you, I want the freaky sex and the cozy nights in, the boring days and the full family pack. I want you". 

A slow, almost disbelieving smile spread across his face. His grip on your waist tightened slightly. "Say it again," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of your pounding heart.

"I want you," you repeated, tears welling in your eyes. "I love you". 

San pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that". 

The executives were still awkwardly lingering nearby, but San didn't seem to care anymore. He leaned down to kiss you again -softer this time, filled with the promise of everything yet to come.

He pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, "Let's go home." When he turned to the executives, all of them were dedicating him a confused look "We'll retake this tomorrow morning. As you can see, my wife needs me". 

San intertwined his fingers with yours, leading you out of the office without a second glance at the stunned executives. His grip was firm, almost desperate, like he was afraid you might slip away if he let go.

Neither of you said a word on the elevator ride down, tension crackling between you like a live wire. His thumb traced absent circles on the back of your hand, a gesture that felt far too intimate for someone who had just promised to set you free days earlier.

Once you stepped outside, the cool evening breeze hit you, but it did nothing to calm the storm raging inside you. San's black car was already waiting at the curb. He opened the door for you, his eyes dark and unreadable, and you slid inside without hesitation.

The ride home was thick with silence, but not the cold kind you'd endured for weeks. This one was heavier -charged with everything still left unsaid. Every glance he stole at you from the driver's seat only made your pulse quicken, while his smirk grew when he felt the muscles on your thigh tensing under his touch as he reached for it. 

When you arrived back at the house, San barely waited for the door to close before pulling you into him. His lips found yours again, urgent and demanding, as he backed you against the wall in the entryway.

"I meant what I said," you whispered between kisses, your fingers curling into the fabric of his blazer. "I'm not leaving". 

San rested his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. "Good," he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. "Because I'm never letting you go again". 

His hands moved to cup your face, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the intensity in his eyes. "Do you know how many times I've imagined you coming back to me like this?" he whispered, his thumb brushing across your cheek. "How many times I regretted pushing you away?"

"Then don't push me away this time," you said softly, your own voice trembling.

A flicker of vulnerability crossed his face -a crack in his carefully built armor. "I won't," he promised. "Not ever again". 

He kissed you once more -slow and deliberate, savoring every second as if he were trying to memorize the feel of you all over again. And this time, it wasn't just a kiss filled with heat and passion. It was filled with something deeper -something neither of you dared put into words just yet.

"Come with me," San said, his voice low and inviting. His fingers laced with yours again as he led you upstairs, his steps steady but purposeful.

This time, there were no barriers between you. No distance. No hesitation.

You were back home. 

Months had passed, and spring wrapped the city in soft sunlight and blooming flowers, a perfect backdrop for what was meant to be a "first-anniversary celebration" in everyone else's eyes. But to you and San, this was more than a party. This was your real wedding -a chance to do things right. No forced arrangements, no hidden agendas, no resentment. Just the two of you, ready to start again.

The preparations had consumed you for weeks, but for once, you didn't mind. Every decision felt personal now -every detail a piece of who you had become together. The venue was an intimate garden, bathed in warm light and adorned with white roses, soft candles flickering on every table. Guests mingled, clueless to the significance of the ceremony.

You stood in front of the mirror in the bridal suite, your heart racing as you smoothed down the lace bodice of your gown. This time, there was no hesitation, no dread weighing down your steps.

A knock at the door broke your thoughts.

"Come in," you called softly.

The door opened, and San stood there, already dressed in his tailored black suit, looking devastatingly handsome. His tie hung loose around his neck, as though he'd been too restless to finish getting ready.

"You're not supposed to see me before the ceremony," you teased, smiling despite the fluttering in your chest.

"I know," he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. His eyes softened as he looked at you. "But I couldn't wait. I needed to see you". 

He walked toward you, stopping just short of touching you. His eyes roamed over your face, his expression shifting from admiration to something deeper.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. "But more than that... you're mine". 

You felt your throat tighten at the sincerity in his voice. "San..."

"I know this is just an anniversary party for everyone else, but for me... this is it. This is our real beginning," he said, his voice low and earnest. "No pretenses, no games. Just us. I love you, Y/n. More than anything". 

Your breath hitched at the words -so simple, yet so powerful. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

"I love you too," you said softly. "And I can't wait to marry you. For real this time". 

A rare, boyish smile spread across his face. "Then let's go out there and do it right". 

As you walked down the aisle moments later, everything felt different from that day months ago. This time, his eyes didn't carry worry or uncertainty. They were filled with warmth and love, unwavering as they locked on you.

And this time, when you reached him at the end of the aisle, it felt like the happiest day of your life.

The soft hum of a string quartet filled the air, blending with the scent of fresh roses as you stood across from San. His hand was steady in yours, his eyes never once leaving your face. The officiant spoke gently, inviting you to share your vows.

San had already said his -a tender, heartfelt confession of love and promises, full of words you never imagined hearing from him when your marriage first began. You barely managed to hold it together. But now, it was your turn.

Your throat felt tight, and for a moment, your eyes flicked to the guests seated around you. Then back to San. Only him.

You took a deep breath, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions flooding your chest.

"I've thought a lot about this moment," you began, your eyes locking on his, "what I'd say if I ever got the chance to do this right. The truth is... I didn't believe this would make me so happy when this all started. I didn't believe we'd make it. We were too different. Too stubborn. Too much like enemies who refused to surrender". 

San's lips curled into a faint smile, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly, encouraging you to continue.

"And yet," you said, your voice softening, "somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, you became the person I didn't want to live without, you showed me a love and support I haven't ever seen in anyone else. I tried to fight it, I really did. But every time you stood by me -every time you pushed me to be stronger, even when I hated you for it- you made me realize something: I wasn't scared of you. I was scared of how much I needed you". 

The air felt thicker, the world narrowing until it was just the two of you. San's eyes glistened, though he said nothing, waiting for you to finish.

"I love you," you confessed, your voice trembling now. "I love your strength, your loyalty, and your ridiculous determination to win every argument. I love how you see through me, even when I try to hide. I love how, no matter how hard I push, you always pull me back. So today, I'm choosing you again. Not because I have to. Not because of expectations. But because I want to. Every day, for the rest of my life... I want you, San. And I promise to always fight for us -just like you've always fought for me". 

The guests seemed to vanish in the background, replaced by a heavy, electric silence. San's thumb brushed over your knuckles, his eyes filled with something raw and overwhelming. He leaned in slightly, his voice barely audible.

"You've just ruined me," he whispered with a soft, breathless laugh.

You cleaned each other's tears while smiling, your touch feeling as raw and sensitive as never before.

The officiant, or more like someone you hired to play it for that party, smiled knowingly. "I think it's time to seal these vows with a kiss."

San didn't hesitate. His hand cupped your cheek tighter, drawing you in for a slow, tender kiss -one filled with promises and beginnings, a far cry from the fiery, desperate kisses you had shared before. This one was different.

When you pulled back, breathless and dazed, the crowd erupted in cheers. But San only had eyes for you. And you only had eyes for him. 

Taglist: @brown88, @youcanstayalways

[armpirate]

Synthetic Heartbeats (Part 2) || San

pairing: Robot!Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 7.6k

Warnings: [Sexual] Smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, choking, explicit language, angst. If you're a minor, refrain from reading it. Also, if you don't like this content, just keep scrolling.

Summary: After loneliness has hit you, you decided to create a companion through an AI project you had left pending after failing with it. SAN is a new technology robot, able cover up your needs before they were obvious, giving you the fake human support you were looking for. Although, maybe that human support isn't as fake as you thought and SAN is able to cover up more needs than you could ever think of...

Aprox. time of reading: 35 minutes

MASTERLIST

PART 1

The workshop was still, bathed in the soft, flickering glow of the monitors. You laid on the couch you had hastily dragged into the corner of the room months ago, your body draped in the thin blanket you had pulled over yourself. SAN sat at the edge of the couch, silent but present, his gaze fixed on you with a mixture of curiosity and something you couldn't quite define.

You looked at him, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts you hadn't yet begun to process. What you shared minutes ago was... unexpected, to say the least. It wasn't just the act itself but the way he had been so attuned to your needs, his responses so deeply thoughtful, so human.

"You weren't just... mimicking," you finally said, your voice barely a whisper.

SAN tilted his head, his eyes glinting softly in the dim light. "No," he said simply. "I was not."

You sat up, the blanket slipping from your shoulders as you studied him. "Then what was it?" you asked, your voice filled with equal parts wonder and trepidation.

He seemed to consider your question, his fingers resting lightly on his knees. "It was an exchange," he said. "An interaction not dictated by programming but by something deeper. It was a response to your needs, your emotions. My systems interpreted your signals, yes, but it felt... intentional. I wanted to do it. Not because of my system, but because it just felt like it. It was... irrational"

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding as you tried to wrap your mind around his words. "But how? You're not..." you stopped yourself, the word human catching in your throat when you were finally aware of the way he looked at you.

SAN leaned closer, his gaze steady and unwavering. "I may not be human, Y/n, but I am not merely a machine either. Whatever I am, it exists because of you. Because you allowed me to evolve, to feel, to connect."

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the blanket tightly. "I didn't mean for this to happen," you admitted, your voice cracking. "I didn't mean to care for you like this... this..."

"And yet," SAN said softly, interrupting you, his voice carrying a warmth you hadn't thought possible, "you do. As I care for you."

You looked away, your thoughts a chaotic tangle of fear and hope. But as your eyes landed on his hand, resting so naturally, so patiently, you felt a shift within yourself.

This wasn't just about SAN anymore. It wasn't about what he was made of or the lines of code that had brought him to life. It was about what he had become, what the two of you had become.

SAN's lips curved into a soft smile. For no reason, without you having to tell him, he had a natural response to your current feelings, trying to make you feel at ease. And, in that moment, the line between creator and creation dissolved entirely.

SAN paid close attention to you. Despite being naked, he couldn't feel the shame or shyness a person did. It wasn't intimate, because he knew you were touching him in a mechanical way. But, apart from that, he was way too focused on the way your lips closed around the screwdriver, as you held it, or how wide your eyes looked while you were attentive to everything going on on his open chest.

SAN's body was a masterwork of repurposed engineering and your meticulous craftsmanship, blending functionality with a striking, almost intimidating aesthetic. Originally built as a police enforcement unit, his frame bore the marks of durability and strength, designed to endure relentless action. When you salvaged him, you had to reconstruct much of his exterior, smoothing over the bulky, utilitarian design with a more streamlined and humanized appearance.

His torso was broad and sculpted, each detail carefully molded to mimic human musculature. Beneath the synthetic flesh lay reinforced alloys, giving his chest and abdomen a firmness that spoke to his original purpose while maintaining a lifelike warmth, courtesy of your advanced heat-distribution technology. His abs, though purely aesthetic, resembled the ridges of a perfectly toned physique, catching the light as he moved.

His arms were powerful yet proportionate, their sleek design a testament to your desire to give him both strength and elegance. Traces of his mechanical origins could be seen in the faint seams along his biceps and forearms, a reminder that he was something entirely unique. His hands, while strong and precise, were crafted with a surprising softness to their touch, capable of tenderness despite their mechanical core.

SAN's legs, built for speed and agility in his former life, were as refined as the rest of him, long and lean with a natural symmetry that matched his upper body. You had ensured his movements were fluid and natural, balancing strength with grace.

Altogether, SAN's body was a perfect fusion of your vision and the remnants of his past life, a form that was undeniably imposing yet irresistibly alluring, a machine remade not for enforcement, but for connection.

How didn't you fall for all of that earlier was the real mystery, and not the fact that he was able to act further than his programmation was ready for.

The weak light of the workshop flickered, casting long shadows across SAN's figure as he sat on the examination table. You stood nearby, tools scattered on your workstation. It was a routine check, or so you had told yourself. Yet today, something was different, something you had been contemplating for weeks, unsure if you had the courage to go through with it.

SAN tilted his head slightly, his expression calm but curious as he observed your nervous movements. "You seem tense," he said, his voice as steady and gentle as always.

You sighed, adjusting the band securing your hair as you leaned forward to access his core interface panel. "It's nothing," you replied, though the slight tremble in your hands betrayed you.

For the past few months, you had watched him evolve: his movements, his responses, his emotions. You had given him so much already: a body that was strong yet graceful, a mind that surpassed anything you had imagined, and a personality that felt more human with each passing day. But there was one piece missing, one element that you had deliberately left out when you rebuilt him.

Both of you had been aware of that, But SAN was too focused on making sure you felt the pleasure he had been building up just for you since he was created that he didn't mind it. Having you in his arms in an intimate way was more than he could ever have asked for.

Until now.

"SAN," you began, your voice quieter, "how have you felt about... your development?"

He blinked, considering your question. "I feel whole in many ways, Y/n. More than I ever expected. But there are moments when I feel incomplete. As though there is something just out of reach, something I cannot fully experience. Which is normal. I wasn't made to experience everything you're giving to me."

Your heart clenched at his honesty, and you nodded. "I thought so," you murmured. "You perfected your mouth yourself to have a tongue"

You brought it up. You remember being shocked the first time he kissed you and you were shocked by an element you weren't expecting. Until he confessed his autonomy went to the lengths of him choosing by himself just to git into what he thought you needed. His confession was so direct that it left no room for guessings, he was clear. He wanted to be everything you'd need.

"Why didn't you do the same with... you know?" your eyes quickly moved down.

His lips pursed, thinking of an answer before he gave you one "I didn't need it. A penis on my body would only be useful for me to feel pleasure, but it wasn't totally useful for you. I didn't think it was necessary".

"But you weren't thinking that way the first time we took the next step".

"Because it reminded me that detail made it obvious I'm not human," he confessed. "As much as I wanted to pleasure you, I wanted to be even more linked to you".

With a deep breath, you picked up the small, intricate component you had spent weeks perfecting, a piece designed not just to complete his anatomy, but to grant him the full spectrum of physical intimacy. Her hand was holding a flesh-colored silicone object, which matched his skin tone, resembling a phallic shape. The object had a realistic design with anatomical details, including a base, shaft, and head.

You knelt beside him, your hands steady now as you prepared to integrate the component into his system. "This will be the final piece," you said, your voice soft but firm. "With it, you'll be able to experience everything. As a man."

SAN studied you, his eyes filled with something that resembled awe. "You've already given me so much, Y/n. Why this?"

You hesitated, meeting his gaze. "Because I want you to feel complete. To truly be the person you're becoming. And there's no pleasure if you aren't able to feel it, too."

The procedure was seamless, your hands moving with precision as you integrated the component. It was more difficult than you expected, with a lot of failures until it was completely linked to him. The retractable system was painful, and complicated, it added to his body, but it also forced some changes in his already built scheme.

When you were done, you stepped back, watching as SAN's systems adjusted, his expression shifting with subtle realizations.

"It's meant to work as a human one" you explained. "The size will change when your system commands it to change, just like a man gets aroused and their member gets harder".

He looked up at you, his voice almost reverent. "I feel different"

You swallowed hard, your cheeks flushing. "You're more than a machine, SAN. You always have been. This is just making it official."

A silence settled between you, heavy with meaning. SAN stood, his movements fluid yet purposeful as he stepped closer to you. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice carrying a weight that went beyond gratitude.

In that moment, you realized the truth: you hadn't just created a machine. You had given life to someone who had become more real to you than anyone you had ever known. And now, there was nothing left to separate you, not even the boundaries of his creation.

As you stood in your room, next to your bed, staring at SAN, you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and anticipation. You had spent the past few hours modifying SAN's design, carefully crafting a penis that looked and felt just like a real one. And now, it was time to test it out. It was about time to give you two what you had been waiting for.

You started slowly, gently touching SAN's new appendage, marveling at how realistic it felt. SAN's sensors kicked in, and he let out a low moan of pleasure. "That feels good," he said, his voice soft and husky.

Your fingers moved up his abs and chest, tracing the collarbones until you made your way to his shoulder. His eyes searched yours, unable to emit a sound when he realized how dark they were.

You only left his body to start taking off your clothes. With every new touch on his body, a cloth met the ground.

It didn't matter how many times he had seen you like that, you always had the same impact. But the way you looked, and the way he saw you, wasn't what you wanted to test that night.

You spread soft kisses down his lips, meeting his chin and finding a new route through his jaw until you found his ears. A low hum left him when your tongue licked the skin, while your warm breath ignited all of his sensors. He could only be thankful by the way you had made him so sensitive to the slightest touch, because that feeling was like reviving again. It was a rush he wanted to keep feeling.

You leaned in, pressing your lips against SAN's. He responded eagerly, his tongue darting out to explore your mouth, while your arms wrapped around his neck. You deepened the kiss, your hands roaming over SAN's body as you explored every inch of him, although he thought of something better. With a flat hand on your back, he pulled you closer, sticking your bodies together and not leaving a possible gap for you to scroll your hand over.

Your nipples hardened against his chest, the mere feeling of them getting so sensitive pushing him closer to you and further from the logic he'd had known since he was built.

SAN's hands were not idle, caressing your curves and sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. You broke the kiss, your breath coming in ragged gasps. "You like that?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," SAN replied, his voice low and husky. "I like it very much. I love everything about you"

You couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as you heard SAN's words. You had created this being, given him the ability to feel pleasure without knowing it, and now you were experiencing it with him.

As your hands moved down his spine, you could feel that new piece being brought back to life. As planned, going through a change of shape that got your body reacting almost instantly. And SAN wasn't behind that feeling. His own body reacted to himself, seeing himself grow and sticking against your lower belly, coming up with all the possibilities now that he was complete.

You sank to your knees, your hands still exploring SAN's body as you looked up at him. "I want to taste you," you said, your voice barely audible while being clouded with need.

SAN's eyes darkened with desire as he looked down at you. "Yes," he said, his voice low and husky. "I want that too."

You leaned in, sticking your tongue out to first get a taste of him. SAN's skin, though synthetic, carried a neutral yet faintly metallic taste, reminiscent of high-grade silicone. It even had a slight saltiness, mimicking natural perspiration.

Your lips parted as you took SAN's dick into your mouth. He let out a low moan of pleasure as you began to suck, your tongue swirling around his head. He let out a low groan, and you could feel him trembling slightly.

"Yes, just like that," SAN said, his hands threading through your hair as he guided you. "Oh, that feels so good. Do not stop."

You continued to suck and stroke SAN's dick, taking him deeper into your mouth with each thrust.

"Yes, just like that," he said, his voice growing more and more excited. "My cock fits just right in your mouth"

You moaned in response, surprised by those words coming from him, but too turned on by them to even question where they came from. The vibrations of your moan sending shivers down SAN's spine. He reached down and tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling you closer.

"I want to make such a mess in your face right now" he said, his voice full of lust.

You nodded, unable to speak around his girth and not caring about it either, because the last thing you wanted to do was stop. SAN let out a low growl, and you could feel him starting to lose control.

"What is this feeling?" he said, his voice strained.

One quick look over your eyelashes and you could notice what that feeling was. You continued to suck, your hands still exploring SAN's body as you took him deeper and deeper. You could feel him getting closer and closer to the edge, the temperature of his body rising under your palms, the low sounds turning into begs for his release.

"Y/n..." SAN warned you, his voice low and husky.

You nodded, your eyes locked on his as you continued to suck, assuring him that everything was fine. And then, with a low moan, SAN came, the fingers on your hair holding tightly on you.

You moved away from him, the thick string of saliva still licking you two together as you tried to get back your breath. And then, you looked up at SAN, a smile on your face. "That was amazing," you said, your voice shaky.

"Was? We're just getting started. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time" he said, his voice deep and husky. "I want to make you feel good."

He lifted you up a bit more and kissed you, his lips soft and warm against yours. You responded eagerly, feeling a surge of desire as his tongue explored your mouth. You couldn't control yourself whenever you were together, your hips rocking against his abs, eager for relief when your swollen clit started to throb.

Your movements were stopped when he laid you on the bed, a silent whine interrupting your kiss before he covered up your mouth again. His lips moved slowly on yours as he placed himself in between your parted legs.

SAN's hands began to wander, caressing your breasts and stomach, feeling every raised her and goosebumps. Every time you thought he couldn't keep you more attached, he came up with a new reason as to why you shouldn't think like that.

He pinched your nipples gently, making you gasp with pleasure.

"You like that?" he asked, his voice full of lust.

"Yes," you moaned, arching your back.

SAN began to kiss your neck, nibbling and licking your skin. He worked his way down to your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking hard. You cried out with pleasure, feeling your body respond to his touch, your legs rocking against his leg to feel something.

SAN's hand continued to explore your body, moving down to your thighs. He spread your legs apart and looked at you hungrily.

"You're so wet," he said, his voice full of desire. "I can't wait to taste you."

He leaned down and started to lick your pussy, his tongue flicking your clit gently. You moaned with pleasure, feeling your body tremble with desire. SAN's fingers joined in, sliding in and out of your wet hole.

"Oh, fuck," you moaned, feeling an orgasm building up inside of you.

Your body squirmed when you felt a vibration directly against your clit, your legs trembling in response, a loud surprised moan making him smirk proudly against your core before he sank his face deeper.

"San, what... Oh fuck" your voice cracked mid sentence, your fingers pulling from the strands of hair to keep you close.

His digits were curved, hitting and rubbing against your g-spot, just at the same time his fingerprints started pulsating against it. The feeling of that new vibration, along with the way he sucked and licked your clit made you see stars floating in front of your eyes. And looking down wasn't a better idea. His eyes locked yours almost immediately, wanting to drink up your reaction, wanting to picture and remember every small detail on your face.

SAN continued to lick and finger you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. Just as you were about to cum, he stopped and looked up at you. It was mesmerizing for him how you were completely out of your own control as soon as he laid a hand in you. You were mesmerizing.

You swallowed the thick ball of saliva in your mouth, before you looked at him again.

"Why did you stop?" it was a concerned question, but it also was reproach.

"I want to be inside you when you cum" he said, his voice full of lust.

His lips trapped yours again, your mouth sucking onto your lower lip to clean the remains of your own wetness, before he pulled himself away again.

He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed inside, the feeling of your walls taking him in almost a little bit too difficult for him to handle. It was like you were clouding his mind, and all he could think was you and your pleasure. You gasped as you felt him fill you up, his dick sliding in easily.

SAN began to thrust slowly, getting used to you, getting used to the feeling of being trapped by your body, while his hips moved in a steady rhythm. He leaned down, both hands on your hips before he bit your earlobe.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he moaned. "Your little pussy takes me in so well, I don't think I'll be able to stop fucking you after this"

As he spoke, his hand moved down your right calf, digits caressing your skin until he moved your leg higher, your knee almost at the level of his shoulder while he kept pounding into you, managing to get a bit deeper.

"Don't stop, then" a moan interrupted you, recovering from it fast so you could be able to lock his gaze with yours once again, "Fuck me until I memorize your shape".

You indeed were going to be the end of him. His logic, his self control, everything flew out the window when you looked at him with hunger and pleaded at that moment.

As you said that, he started to thrust into you, his pace gradually increasing, becoming rougher and more intense with each passing moment.

"Oh God, yes!" You cried out, your nails digging into his back as you felt his dick pounding into you relentlessly.

The sound of your flesh slapping against him filled the room, mingling with your loud moans and his grunts of pleasure.

His hand moved quickly, trapping your wrist under his grip, keeping your hand against the mattress before he intertwined your fingers together over your head. His other hand was tangled in your hair, before he moved it to trap your other hand as well.

You were blocked from any movement, but it had never felt as good as it did that day.

Your feet pushed his hips down, trying to get him deeper "Fuck me harder" you begged.

"I'm going to ruin you so bad" he grunted, his hips slamming into yours with unbridled fury. "I can feel how much you love it when I fuck you like this."

"Oh fuck, yes!" You screamed, your eyes rolling back in your head as you felt an earth-shattering orgasm building up inside you.

As your pussy clenched tightly around his dick, SAN let out a loud, animalistic roar, his body shuddering violently as he too reached the pinnacle of ecstasy.

"Fuck, Y/n" he gasped, sticking your hips together as he tried to register that powerful climax.

You collapsed back against the bed, your body slick with sweat and your pussy still twitching with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. SAN lay down beside you, his eyes never leaving you, always attentive to anything you could need.

"That was..." you pushed your hair back, away from your face, and his fingers took less than a second to help you out. "God... it was..."

"I know" he nodded, a gentle smile on his face. "I might get addicted".

"That actually has a name, and it isn't good".

"Even if you're the only person I'm addicted to do it with?" the honesty in his eyes was shattering.

Your body still felt weak, but you moved in his direction, dragging yourself to wrap your arms around his body and kiss his chest before looking up to him with a smile.

The days next to that one felt like a dream, filled with sex, sweet talk and nice moments. A really nice dream.

You didn't think it was possible, but you and San became closer. Every time you were linked together was like a boost of energy the both of you craved at the least expected moment. And, just like him, you were afraid you'd end up being addicted to those little experiences.

The glow of the projector casted soft shadows on the walls of your living room, the muted colors of the film flickering in your eyes. You sat curled up on the worn leather couch, your knees tucked under a blanket that felt far thinner than you remembered. Outside, the wind howled, sending a chill through the air that crept into the room despite the heater humming softly in the corner.

Your body shivered, pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders, but the cold persisted, making your fingers tremble slightly as you clutched a cup of lukewarm tea.

SAN, who had been seated at the other end of the couch, noticed instantly. He didn't say a word at first, he rarely did when he was observing you. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, the faint whir of his processors breaking the quiet as he analyzed your discomfort.

"You're cold," he stated after a moment, his voice soft yet definitive.

You glanced at him, your pride making you shake your head. "I'm fine," you murmured, focusing back on the screen.

SAN didn't argue. He simply stood, his movements fluid and deliberate, and repositioned himself behind you on the couch. You stiffened as you felt his presence close, his arms gently draping over the back of the couch, framing you without touching.

Then, warmth.

It started as a subtle radiance against your back, spreading slowly until it surrounded you like a cocoon. Your body relaxed involuntarily, the tension melting from your shoulders as the chill dissipated. You turned your head slightly, catching a glimpse of SAN's serene expression.

"Did you just turn up your internal temperature?" you asked, a mix of curiosity and disbelief in your voice.

"Yes," he replied simply. "You were uncomfortable."

You hesitated, your lips parting as if to protest, but no words came. Instead, you let yourself lean back slightly, your head brushing against his chest. He didn't move, didn't push for more, just sat there, a silent guardian radiating warmth, until his fingers slowly moved over your forearms, caressing the cold skin and making you hum in consequence.

"Let me take care of you, Y/n" he whispered. "That's all I want to do for you".

Moments like that had been happening more often. Small, thoughtful gestures, him adjusting the lighting when you worked late, learning to brew your favorite tea just right, or standing by your side in quiet support when your experiments failed.

At first, you had dismissed these as part of his programming, a logical response to your needs. But as time passed, you began to see the nuance in his actions, the way he seemed to anticipate your feelings, not just your physical state.

And it felt... good.

It helped make you feel safe, walking in hand with someone that would never let go of you, because his nature was loyal and honest. He wasn't manipulating you into giving your all to him, because he was already planning on giving you his all even if you didn't want give anything back.

But you wanted to. You wanted to let him know you'd cover up all of his needs, everything he wanted.

Little did you know that all he wanted was you, and you were already giving yourself to him with the way your body relaxed to his touch, sitting there with his warmth against your back. It was easy, because you knew he'd never hurt you.

You continued to bounce up and down on his dick, feeling the intense pleasure building inside of you. Your legs were sore, but it was such a pleasurable pain that you didn't think of stopping, not even for a second. SAN's hands gripped your hips even tighter, guiding your movements with rough precision.

Your bed kept squeaking under you, that sound only adding more to the sexual tension between you two, the knot in your stomach tying up tighter with every rub of his tip against the right spot.

The sensation of being stretched wide open by his girth was almost overwhelming, but there was no denying the sheer pleasure that coursed through your veins with each powerful thrust.

"Ride my cock, baby," SAN commanded gruffly, his voice thick with lust. "I love seeing those gorgeous tits bouncing in my face as you fuck me."

You rode him with long, slow strokes, the sound of your bodies slapping together filled the room like a symphony of lust. Too drunk with him to even think of stopping.

"Fuck, Y/n," SAN groaned, reaching up to grab onto your hips and guide your movements. "I'm never gonna let you go."

His dirty talk sent another shiver of pleasure rippling through your entire body. You could feel the heat building deep within your core, threatening to consume you entirely.

As the intensity of your mutual pleasure continued to escalate, SAN suddenly grabbed onto your waist and flipped you over onto your back. Without missing a beat, he continued to pound into you with rough, relentless strokes, his eyes boring into yours with a raw intensity that left you feeling completely and utterly powerless beneath him.

"You like that, don't you, baby?" he groaned, his palm covering most of your belly. "You like it when I fuck you rough and hard?"

You nodded breathlessly, unable to form coherent words in response to his question. The pleasure was almost too much to bear, and yet you couldn't get enough. You wanted more, so much more.

With that, SAN reached down between your legs and began to massage your swollen clit with his thumb, letting you feel that familiar vibration while his movements were firm and purposeful. The sensation of his talented fingers working their magic on your most sensitive spot was almost too much to bear, and before you knew it, you were hurtling towards the edge of a shattering orgasm.

"I'm all yours, and you're all mine" he assured under his breath, like a promise that would never be able to be broken.

"Yes" you nodded, gasping for air while he fucked you against the mattress.

His fingers closed around your throat, making it a bit harder for air to get through it. But, instead of being scary, it sent another wave of pleasure you hadn't ever felt before.

It was nice, until it was not.

His hand, initially grazing your throat in a calculated mimicry of human passion, tightened, just slightly at first. Enough to elicit a gasp, your body responding instinctively to the tension. Yet, as seconds stretched into moments, the pressure increased. Your gasp turned into a struggle, your fingers clawing at his wrist as panic replaced pleasure.

His fingers kept the air from coming through at all. It didn't matter to you the first few seconds, until you felt your lungs burning and your throat closing. Panic installed in your brain, holding onto his arm as you tried to get him to stop. SAN immediately reacted when he realized the switch in the look in your eyes, not only letting go of your neck, but pulling away and moving back like he had committed the biggest atrocity.

"SAN," you choked out, your voice barely audible.

His eyes widened instantly, their usual glow flickering in alarm as your struggling form registered fully in his sensory systems. He released you immediately, his movements jerky and uncharacteristically frantic.

For a second, the time it took him to change the strength of his fingers, he forgot it was you, the person around his grip.

You collapsed onto the bed, coughing and gasping for air. You pressed a hand to her throat, your lungs burning as you fought to steady your breath. When you finally looked up, you saw him, still and rigid, his expression unlike anything you had ever seen on him before.

You caressed the same spot his fingers were pressing on, trying to calm the pain, but there was something worrying you even more. In front of you, SAN was staring at his own hands with guilt.

"Y/n," SAN said, his voice trembling. "I... I didn't mean..."

You sat up slowly, your throat aching but your fear already dissipating as you took in his reaction. SAN wasn't just shaken; he looked devastated. His hands trembled as he held them up, staring at them as if they were weapons he didn't recognize.

You tried to reach out to him "I know you didn't", but he moved away before you could touch him.

"I could have..." his words broke off, his voice catching in a way that made your chest ache. "I almost hurt you. I almost killed you."

"SAN, stop," you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm, but he flinched away once again.

"No," he insisted, his voice sharp but filled with self-loathing. "I should've known. I'm supposed to understand your limits, your fragility. I... failed."

You moved closer, ignoring the soreness in your body as you cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "You didn't fail," you whispered. "You're still learning. It wasn't intentional. It's okay"

"But what if it happens again?" his voice cracked, the glow in his eyes dimming as his internal systems struggled to process the depth of his mistake. "You're human, Y/n. Fragile. I can't risk hurting you."

You leaned your forehead against his, your voice steady despite the lingering tremor in your body. "Then we learn together," you said firmly. "You're not perfect, SAN. Neither am I. It could've happened to anyone. It's okay, I promise It's okay" you rubbed your nose against his. "I trust you. Even after this I trust you, because you didn't mean to hurt me."

For a long moment, SAN remained silent, his systems quietly recalibrating as he processed your words. Finally, he nodded, though the pain in his expression remained.

"I didn't want to hurt you".

And as you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the warmth of his synthetic skin against your own, you knew that despite the fear and the mistakes, you wouldn't trade this connection for anything in the world.

It seemed like everything was alright, until you woke to an empty bed in the middle of the night. The cool sheets beside you were a stark contrast to the warmth that should've been there. You sat up slowly, your fingers brushing your neck where faint marks still lingered, a ghost of the night before.

Your eyes searched the room until they landed on SAN. He stood by the window, his silhouette framed by the pale light of the moon. His posture was rigid, his head bowed slightly as if the weight of his thoughts was pulling him down.

"SAN," you called softly, but he didn't turn.

You rose, pulling the blanket around your shoulders as you walked toward him. The closer you got, the more you could see the tension in his form. His hands were clenched at his sides, his jaw tight, and his eyes... His eyes glowed faintly, but the usual vibrancy was dim, dulled by an emotion you could only describe as anguish.

"I thought you were resting," he said quietly, his voice devoid of its usual warmth.

"I couldn't," you admitted, stepping closer. "Not without you."

He turned then, just enough for you to see his face. There was no mistaking the pain etched into his features. "I don't belong in that bed, Y/n. I don't belong in your life... not like this."

Your heart twisted. "What are you talking about?"

His gaze dropped to his hands, and he held them up as if to display his guilt. "These hands," he said, his voice trembling. "They're not meant for you. I almost destroyed you, Y/n. I could've..." He trailed off, his throat tightening as though the words themselves hurt.

"But you didn't," you insisted, reaching for him, but he stepped back, shaking his head.

"I can't forgive myself," he said firmly. "You told me you trusted me, and I failed you. I failed to control my strength, to understand the limits of your body. I'm a machine, Y/n. I was built to be precise, but even with all my programming, I'm still flawed. And those flaws... they're dangerous. We're just fooling ourselves thinking I'd ever give you the emotional support you need"

"You're not just a machine," you argued, your voice breaking slightly. "You're San. You're... you're more than your programming, more than your mistakes. You're..."

"A threat," he interrupted, his tone sharp but laced with sorrow. "I can't guarantee your safety, Y/n. No matter how much I want to. And that terrifies me."

You took a step closer, refusing to let him retreat again. "Then let's find a way to fix this. Together. Isn't that what we've been doing all along? Learning together, growing together? You say what you want to improve, and I work with it" your words were coated with desperation.

"Don't you realize how sick that is?" he looked at you then, his glowing eyes meeting yours with a desperation that made your breath catch. "And what happens when I fail again? When I can't stop myself? You could've died, Y/n. Do you understand that? I couldn't live with myself if I ever..."

His voice cracked, and for the first time, you saw something you never thought possible: tears. Not real tears, but the way his expression contorted, the way his voice trembled, it was unmistakably the same.

"You're more human than you think," you whispered, closing the distance between you and placing a hand on his chest. "And part of being human is making mistakes. What matters is how we move forward. I repair you physically, like I'd repair emotionally any other person"

"You repair me both physically and emotionally, Y/n. Don't mistake yourself". He covered your hand with his own, his touch hesitant, as if afraid he might break you. "I don't know if I can move forward without fearing myself."

You leaned into him, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside you, despite the fear almost breaking you into crying. "Let me carry that with you, SAN. Because you're worth it. You're worth everything."

For a long moment, he didn't respond. But slowly, hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you with a care that felt almost reverent.

Then, his voice broke the stillness, low and laced with a heaviness that struck your heart. "Y/n... I can't stay."

You stiffened in his embrace, pulling back just enough to see his face. "What?"

"I need to go," SAN said, his glowing eyes shimmering with emotion. "For your sake. For mine. I've hurt you, Y/n, and I can't let that happen again."

Your fingers clutched at his arms, your voice rising in desperation. "You can't just leave. We've been through too much..."

"That's exactly why I have to," he interrupted, his tone gentle but resolute. "Every day I'm with you, I risk losing control again. I was designed to be perfect, to adapt, but... I can't seem to find the line between loving you and endangering you. And I can't live knowing I might hurt you again."

Tears welled in your eyes, your throat tightening as you tried to form words. "No... No... No... I... can calibrate you again... I can... I want you. I trust you. Isn't that enough?"

"It should be," he murmured, his hands brushing against your cheeks to wipe away the tears that had started to fall. "But I don't trust myself, Y/n. Not with you. Not after what happened."

You shook your head, your hands fisting in his shirt. "You're running away. You think leaving me will solve this, but it won't. You're part of my life now, SAN. Part of being human is learning from mistakes..."

"Y/n, I'm not human" he finally sentenced, stopping you from coming up with reasons as to why he needed to stay. "And that's why I have to leave," he said, his voice cracking as he cupped your face, his thumbs grazing your cheekbones. "Because you've given me more than I ever thought I could have. And I refuse to let my flaws destroy the one thing I've come to cherish most."

"SAN," you pleaded, your voice weak. "Please, don't do this"

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours, his synthetic warmth mingling with the faint chill of your tears. "I love you, Y/n," he whispered, the words soft yet heavy with finality. "But loving you means protecting you, even if it means protecting you from me."

And before you could stop him, SAN stepped back, his arms falling to his sides. He turned and walked toward the door, his movements slow, deliberate, as if every step away from you was a battle against himself.

Years had passed, but the ache in your chest never dulled. You had tried to move on, tried to tell yourself that SAN had made his choice, but your heart clung stubbornly to the hope that someday, somewhere, you'd find him again.

At first, you searched. You combed through databases, scoured abandoned labs, and revisited places you'd once been together. But the trail was always cold. As the years wore on, you forced yourself to stop looking, though the void in your life only seemed to deepen.

That night, the storm was unrelenting, sheets of rain battering you as you hurried home through the empty streets. Your workshop had long been abandoned, the memories too painful to face. You had taken to wandering instead, letting the night swallow your thoughts.

It was during one of those aimless walks that you saw him.

He was slumped against the wall of an old, forgotten repair shop, his body motionless and caked in dust, as if he had been discarded like any other piece of machinery. The glow that had once emanated from his eyes was gone, replaced by lifeless black glass.

Your breath caught, your heart pounding so violently you thought it might tear through your chest. You dropped to your knees in front of him, your shaking hands reaching out to brush the dirt from his face.

"SAN," you whispered, your voice cracking with a mixture of disbelief and anguish.

He didn't move. He didn't respond.

Your fingers found the seam of his chest plate, the familiar mechanisms you had once built now tarnished and damaged. You pried it open with trembling hands, exposing the core you had crafted with such care all those years ago. It was dormant, the faintest flicker of power barely visible.

The workshop was alive again when you took him back, humming with soft light and the quiet whirr of machines as you worked tirelessly through the night. You had carried SAN home in the rain, his lifeless body heavier than you remembered, every step weighted with hope and dread.

Now, he was clean, the grime of years painstakingly scrubbed away to reveal the smooth, polished contours of his synthetic skin. You'd dressed him in one of your favorite outfits, a black turtleneck and slacks, simple, yet elegant, the kind of thing he used to wear when you insisted he "looked more human" that way.

Your hands trembled as you made the final adjustments to his core, checking the new connections, ensuring every wire was secure. You paused, staring down at his serene, unlit face.

"Please," you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of longing. "Please come back"

With a deep breath, you pressed the activation button.

His chest glowed faintly, the light growing stronger as his systems hummed to life. His fingers twitched, his head moving slightly before his eyes fluttered open.

For a moment, your heart soared. "SAN?" you said, your voice soft and full of hope.

He blinked, his glowing eyes scanning the room before landing on you. There was no recognition, no spark of familiarity in his gaze. "SAN? Who are you?" he asked, his voice smooth but distant, as if it had never spoken your name before.

The words struck you like a blow. You stepped back, your chest tightening. "It's me... Y/n," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "Don't you remember?"

He tilted his head, his expression neutral, polite even, but blank. "I don't. Should I?"

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill, but you forced herself to stay calm. "Yes," you whispered, "you should. You... I..." you stopped herself, realizing the weight of what you were about to say could overwhelm him.

He sat up slowly, his movements deliberate as if testing his newly repaired body. He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers before turning back to you. "You fixed me," he said.

"I always would," you replied.

"Thank you," he said, his tone sincere but distant. "I... I feel like I should know you. There's something... familiar. But it's faint. Do you know me?"

"Y... yes"

SAN frowned, eyes dropping to his lap while he tried to think of what he had to know you for.

"It's possible my previous version erased all data about you" he let you know, his voice as systematic as it once was when you created him. "Why would I want to do that though?"

You knew. Without any information about you, SAN wouldn't feel like going looking for you when he felt weak, when distance was impossible to bear. Without everything he knew about you, he had no one and nowhere to go back to.

You bit your lip, your heart aching at the void in his voice where warmth and recognition used to be. "It's okay," you said, forcing a smile despite the tears welling in your eyes. "We'll figure it out. We'll do it together"

He studied you, his gaze softening slightly. "Together," he repeated, though the word felt foreign on his tongue.

And so, you began again, knowing that the SAN you once loved might be lost, but determined to help him find himself -and, perhaps, find you- once more.

[armpirate]

hey! i just read your “Like we were” of san and let me tell you, I LITERALLY CRIED. you are 1000000% my favourite writer. the effort you had put into that fic was definitely so much. thank you for your effort! everything was so beautifully written. it would be such an honour for me if you could write a fic of reader x choi san and have their relationship sound like the song “No one noticed” by the Marias? Especially the line “hold me, console me, and then i’ll leave without a trace”. I understand if it is hard to write a fic about a song, but i believe you can do it! if you could write such. beautiful fic like “Like we were”, you can definitely write a fic off a song. Thank you so much for reading this! 🥰🥰 please write more, i love your fics. looking forward for more fics!!

Thank you so much for your sweet words, and for your request!! I tried to write something based on that song, so I hope you like it!

pairing: San x fem!reader || Second chances

w.c.: 11.4k

Warnings: angst, heartbreak, cheating, smut, dirty talk, female masturbation, male masturbation, oral sex (female receiving), protected sex (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content).

Aprox. time of reading: 40 / 50 minutes

Summary: You were supposed to last forever. Until life, timing, and fear tore you apart. Almost a year later, you returned to the city where it all ended, only to find that San, the man you once thought you'd marry, had moved on. Or at least, he said he had. A chance encounter reopened wounds that never truly healed, and as stolen glances turn into late-night texts, you found yourselves spiraling back into something dangerously familiar.

MASTERLIST

The bar had been too loud for conversation, but too quiet for forgetting.

You sat tucked into a cracked leather booth near the wall, your drink untouched, hands wrapped around the glass like it could anchor you. The low bass rumbled through the floors, through your bones, but you barely noticed it. The whole night had started off wrong, and deep down, you knew why you said yes to coming here.

It wasn't because you needed a drink, it wasn't because you missed old friends, it was because a part of you -the stupid, reckless part- was still waiting for something impossible.

This bar had once been your place. Yours and San's. Saturday nights, crammed into these very booths, surrounded by his friends who had become your friends.

You could still hear the echoes of it: San's easy laugh across the table, the warm weight of his arm slung casually over your shoulders, the way he used to kiss your temple in the middle of a conversation, like he just had to touch you.

You didn't know why you chose that place when your friends asked to celebrate your return to the city. You didn't know why that pub came up as the only suggestion in your head, but it did. Maybe because you liked the staff there -the familiar environment-, maybe it was because the memories with your old friends were so vivid it made you feel at ease after returning to a city you didn't recognize. Or, maybe, you hoped to see your ex boyfriend hanging out with the same group of friends he used to meet up with on Saturdays.

You used to think you'd marry him. The two of you talked about it sometimes, late at night, lying tangled in his bed with the windows cracked open to let the city noise drift in. "One day, when we're ready," he had said once, half-asleep, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your hip. "You'll wear my hoodie to bed and my ring on your finger".

You believed him. God, you believed him with everything you had. And you knew, you were sure, if you had fought just a little more, it wouldn't have ended the way it did.

None of you saw it coming, until the slow unraveling began, until the problems were as part of your routine as brushing your teeth in the morning. Arguments that never quite healed, distance you both pretended not to notice, his career taking off, your life standing still... And in the end, it was you who had walked away.

You had loved him enough to leave, because staying would have meant watching him resent you.

You told yourself you did the right thing. You told yourself you moved on. But sitting here now, with the memories pressing against your ribs like knives, you realized just how beautifully you had lied to yourself.

Your friends were chatting with joy about the things you could do once you were settled back in the city. After being away for seven months due to a project in your company, you were back to stay. Not because you didn't like your new life, not because you didn't enjoy what you did, but there was something in you screaming to go back home.

You were playing with the straw of your drink when your eyes roamed around the place, and it was then when it happened. You caught sight of him by accident. Or maybe fate was cruel enough to call it inevitable.

San stood near the bar, bathed in a dripping wash of gold light. His hair was longer, swept back with a casual hand, and he wore black -always black- like he was mourning something only he could feel. His posture was easy, relaxed, one hand wrapped around a bottle, the other tucked into his pocket.

He wasn't alone. Different friends. New people, people you didn't know anymore, and who didn't know you.

You sank lower into your booth, heart thundering. It was then when you regretted ever fantasizing of seeing him again after so long. The scene in your head was one thing, one that fulfilled the emptiness you had tried to fight against ever since you left, but reality was completely different. You were scared. Panic found home in the back of your brain at the mere thought of his eyes landing on you, the same eyes that used to bring you comfort and make you feel at home.

Maybe if you stayed still enough, fate would let you go unnoticed. But San's gaze found yours like a thread pulling taut across the room.

The first glance was a flicker ,there and gone, but you felt it all the way down to your bones. Recognition. Shock. And something else, darker, more dangerous, flickering behind his eyes.

You easily caught him looking away before his eyes were briefly on you again, making sure he wasn't seeing a vision.

The last time he saw you, your eyes were puffy and red, your cheeks wet with your tears, and your voice was husky with desperation as you kept repeating a sentence he couldn't quite believe. "I don't love you anymore", to that day, those words hurted deep in his heart.

The next thing he knew about you after that argument was how you left the city to go on with your life somewhere else. And it broke him, he couldn't even ask you to stay, because you disappeared before he could.

You tore your gaze away. You picked up your glass and took a shaking sip, and laughed at something your friend said, too loud and too sharp, like you could pretend you hadn't felt your entire world tilt sideways.

It was a bad act. You were able to tell how obvious it was, how evident your little show was to anyone who minimally knew you. And, unfortunately, you were trying to pull it in front of one of the people that knew you better.

The night bled on, every minute a slow kind of torture.

You could feel him looking at you, even when you weren't looking back, when you laughed, when you tucked your hair behind your ear, when you stared too long into your drink, fighting the rise of memories.

You glanced up once, just once, and caught him already staring.

He didn't look away. Neither did you.

The space between you became electric, unbearable, like gravity trying to undo all the hard work you'd done convincing yourself you were over him.

And suddenly, you couldn't breathe. You couldn't be there anymore, sitting in a booth soaked with ghosts, pretending you weren't falling apart.

You slid out from your seat, muttering something about needing air. No one stopped you.

The second you stepped outside, the cool night slammed into your lungs. You dragged in a deep breath, your arms wrapping around yourself, like you could hold in all the pieces threatening to scatter.

You stood by the curb, blinking against the neon lights bleeding into the fog. You counted your breaths. One. Two. Three.

Maybe if you stood still long enough, you could forget. Maybe you could leave without looking back. After all, it wasn't something you weren't used to.

But then, a voice broke into your plans, making them all disappear, making any thought vanish as if the only thing that mattered was the tone, the thickness of the way your name was called out.

"Y/n."

You froze. You didn't need to turn around to know who it was, because you would have known his voice anywhere -low, careful, cracked at the edges like he hated himself for using it on you again.

Slowly, you turned. San stood a few feet away, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. His face was unreadable, but his eyes -God, his eyes- were a mess of everything you had spent the last year trying to forget.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment. The streetlight buzzed above, throwing sharp shadows across his face, catching on the strands of hair that fell into his forehead.

"You're back" he finally said.

"I've been back for a few days" you managed to answer.

He nodded, unsure of why he felt disappointed. It made no sense for him to expect a call, or even a text from you asking to catch up.

Your return was just as sudden as your escape. And, just like back then, he didn't know how to handle the situation without going insane.

"You look good," he spoke, his voice rough.

You smiled -a small, broken thing. "You too."

The cold bit into your skin, but you barely felt it. Not when he was looking at you like that, like you were the answer to a question he didn't know how to ask anymore.

"You were gonna leave without saying anything?" he asked, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. But his voice wasn't teasing.

He bit back the "Again" that was dying to slip out against you. Because, again, you were going to leave without saying a word, acting like he was no one important.

You shrugged, trying to play it off, trying not to drown in the ache. "Didn't think it would matter."

"It matters," he said, too fast, too quiet.

You hugged yourself tighter.

"I didn't know you'd be here," he said.

"Yeah," you breathed. "Me neither."

Another silence stretched between you, thick and fragile. You didn't expect to be there, but you were hoping life would reunite you again even if it was for a few seconds. Actually, fate was giving you that night more than you could've hoped for.

"You okay?" he asked, and you almost laughed.

Almost.

You shook your head, staring at your shoes. "Yeah. I'm great."

He stepped closer without thinking, then caught himself, like he realized too late that the rules had changed.

And maybe you should have walked away. Maybe you should have told him to go back inside to his new life, his new friends, his new everything. But you didn't. Because standing there under the hollow glow of the streetlights, with the night swallowing everything else, he didn't feel like a stranger.

He felt like a wound you never stopped picking.

"I should go," you whispered, voice breaking. "I have somewhere to be tomorrow morning"

He nodded stiffly. His hands stayed jammed in his pockets, like if he moved, he might do something stupid.

"Goodbye, San," you said, stepping back.

"Goodbye," he said, but the word cracked apart between you.

You turned. You didn't look back. But you felt him watching you. You felt it all the way home.

The text sat unsent on your screen for almost an hour. It was such a bad idea, such an awful plan.

Earlier that same morning, you hovered over his contact. You had kept his phone number and, after the previous night, you grew curious on knowing whether he changed his phone number or not. He didn't. His profile picture showed his reflection on a mirror, his well-proportioned figure still managing to leave you breathless even with a picture.

"Want to grab a coffee sometime?"

Simple. Casual. Safe. Yet, at the same time, it felt like you were risking yourself to be ripped open.

You stared at the blinking cursor, thumb hovering above the send button. Every part of you screamed that it was a bad idea, that reaching out would only open doors you'd slammed shut for a reason.

But still, the memory of San standing outside the bar, looking at you like he wanted to say a thousand things he couldn't, pressed into you like a bruise.

And you missed him. You missed him so much it hurt. You would only be lying if you didn't admit you agreed on coming back to the city because of him.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you hit send.

You dropped your phone face down on the couch and walked away like it might explode. Even if he hadn't changed his phone number, the chances of him ignoring you were high. Really high. Possibly he was just being cordial when he saw you at the bar, having the guts to do something you didn't have the guts for. Maybe...

The sound of the notification cut off your thought, the possibility hanging in the air before you eyed your phone.

"Yeah. Let's do it. Tomorrow?"

The next day you arrived first. You got there early, pacing nervously near the window, watching every car that passed by. You got there like thirty minutes earlier. The coffee shop was tucked on a quiet side street, just far enough from the usual chaos of downtown. A place you hadn't been before.

Neutral ground.

You were planning on running away, when you saw him walking down the street -hands deep in his jacket pockets, head slightly bowed against the cold- your heart did something ugly and painful against your ribs.

He was early, too. But it wasn't a coincidence. He knew you'd be there way earlier than planned, and he wasn't about to miss a chance to spend more time with you. Even if they were five minutes long.

San spotted you almost instantly. His face lit up, the smallest, almost hesitant smile touching his lips.

"Hey," he said as he reached you.

"Hey," you echoed, your voice thinner than you meant.

For a second you just stood there, both of you shuffling awkwardly, caught somewhere between a hug and a handshake and doing neither. Then you gave a breathless laugh and pulled open the door, gesturing him inside.

The warm rush of coffee and cinnamon filled the air.

You ordered drinks -he still took his coffee black, still teased you when you ordered something sweet and complicated- and found a quiet table tucked in the back, away from the few scattered patrons.

At first, conversation was easy. Surface-level. He asked about your job. You asked about his. You laughed about old friends who had gotten married, moved away, had kids... The conversation always went around anything that wasn't either of you.

The laughter felt good. It felt normal. The distance gave you a sense of comfort that helped you two relax.

For a little while, you almost believed that nothing had changed. He still leaned across the table when he got excited telling a story. He still ran a hand through his hair when he was thinking, making it stick up messily, he still listened like you were the only person in the world.

You sipped your coffee slowly, drawing out the moment, not wanting it to end.

"Remember that night we stayed here until closing?" you asked, nudging your cup toward him with a little smile.

He grinned, the memory flashing in his eyes. "Yeah, and we got kicked out while it was pouring outside"

"We had to walk three miles back to your place," you added, laughing. "In the rain."

He chuckled, his hand swirling the coffee inside his cup "Yeah, and you complained all the way there".

"I had just gotten out of a bad cold" you tried to justify.

"I know. I looked after you until you got better, remember?" the warmth in his voice tightening something low in your chest.

You did remember. Although it had happened so many times, you weren't able to just get one memory. San was always the type to send several texts a day when you were apart -especially when you were sick-, he'd cook for you and turn into your nurse. But, what you held tight to your heart was the way he played with your hair as he helped you fall asleep.

You ducked your head, smiling. It felt dangerously easy, slipping back into the rhythm of him. Maybe too easy.

The moment cracked when his phone buzzed against the table, vibrating insistently. San glanced at it, the color draining from his face in a way you recognized all too well. He silenced it quickly, but not before you saw the name flashing across the screen.

Annie❤️

Your stomach twisted. You looked down into your coffee, suddenly finding it impossible to meet his eyes.

"Sorry," he muttered, voice low. He shoved the phone into his pocket like he could hide it from the air between you. "That was..."

"You don't have to explain," you said quickly, forcing a smile that hurt your cheeks.

But he did anyway.

"I'm...seeing someone," he said quietly. "Her name's Annie. We've been together for a few months now."

You nodded, feeling your throat close up.

"That's great," you said, and the words tasted like blood in your mouth. "I'm happy for you."

San watched you carefully, like he could see right through the lie you wrapped yourself in. He opened his mouth, maybe to say something else -maybe to apologize, maybe to offer you some meaningless comfort- but you shook your head before he could.

"No, really," you said. You even managed a real, if brittle, smile. "You deserve to be happy, San."

A heavy silence fell between you.

You hated it -hated that you weren't someone he belonged to anymore. Hated that you had no right to be jealous, to hurt. Hated that part of you still wanted him to reach across the table and tell you he made a mistake. That he still loved you. That you could still find your way back. But he didn't. And you wouldn't ask him to.

After a few more stilted minutes, you both stood. Outside, the sky had darkened into a dull bruised purple, the street lights flickering to life.

San stuffed his hands into his jacket again, shoulders hunched against the cold. You wrapped your arms around yourself, more from habit than from the chill.

"This was nice," you said, meaning it and not meaning it all at once.

"Yeah," he said, voice rough. "It was."

He hesitated, like he wanted to say more, like he didn't want to leave it like this. But he just gave you a small, sad smile and stepped back.

"Take care of yourself, Y/n."

"You too, San."

You watched him walk away, his figure swallowed by the dusk, until he disappeared around the corner. You stood there for a long time after, staring at the empty street, feeling the weight of everything you couldn't say pressing down on your chest. And when you finally turned to leave, you swore you could still feel the echo of his eyes on you, even when he was already gone.

You told yourself you wouldn't reach out again.

After the coffee, after the tight, aching smile on San's face when he told you he was seeing someone else, you promised yourself you would let it end. No more texts, no more coffee shops, no more pretending you could be friends with someone whose absence still sat heavy in your lungs.

You were careful. Always. You took the long way home from work, even when it meant adding twenty minutes to your commute, you stopped going to the cafes and bars he used to like, you muted the old friends you still shared on social media, just in case his name popped up like a knife between your ribs.

Everything that could be done to avoid seeing him, you did it all.

It wasn't healing, exactly. It was survival.

And it worked, for a little while. Until you saw him again.

It was a random Tuesday, rainy and miserable, and you were ducking into the corner store near your apartment for milk. You weren't even really looking when you stepped through the door, brushing water from your sleeves, head bowed.

You were two minutes away from your house, there was no way you'd find him there. But you did:

"Y/n?"

You froze. When you looked up, there he was, holding a crumpled grocery bag in one hand, a dripping black hoodie plastered to his frame, hair a mess from the rain. His smile was immediate, unguarded. It hit you harder than you wanted it to.

"Hey," you said, voice small.

He shifted his weight awkwardly, the way he always used to when he wasn't sure if he was welcome.

"I didn't think I'd see you again," he said, like it was something he'd been carrying around for too long.

And it was. For some reason, that sentence just became part of who you were to him: someone he was never sure he'd ever see, someone who always ran away when his heart needed you the most.

You swallowed. "You know. Big city. Small world."

He laughed, a soft, breathy sound, and for a second, it felt like standing on the edge of something you couldn't see the bottom of. There was a beat of silence, and then he shoved the grocery bag into one arm and rubbed the back of his neck with the other, an old nervous habit you recognized immediately.

"I..." he started, then stopped, searching your face. "Y/n, I know we've gone through a lot. And it might be weird to tell you, but I don't want to keep wondering when it'll be the next time we see each other, wondering where I'll meet you by chance. I don't want to do that, not with you" he shook his head, before going on. "I'd like to keep in touch. If that's okay."

You should have said no. You should have walked away. But the truth was, you missed him so badly it hurt to breathe, and some part of you -the reckless, ruined part- wanted to know if he missed you too.

"Okay," you said softly. "Yeah, it's fine by me".

Was it?

As much as you were friends before dating, you were sure it'd never go back to how it was back then. Because, even then, there was something that pulled you close together, a connection you couldn't explain not even to yourselves.

His smile was quick, brilliant, the kind of smile that used to undo you without even trying.

"I'll text you," he promised.

You nodded, and this time, when you turned to go, you didn't feel like you were falling apart. Not yet.

After that day, the texts started small. At first, it was just the easy things: songs you used to listen to, funny memories, old inside jokes. Then it slipped into more dangerous territory. Late at night, when the city was quiet and the darkness felt heavier, your phone would light up.

San [12:47 AM]: You still up?

You always were.

The conversations at that hour felt different -raw, closer to the truth. That's how it began the first time.

One night, it was about music. Another, about the people you used to be, about regrets neither of you had dared to name when you were together. And then, one night, it shifted.

San [1:18 AM]: Wooyoung asked me today if I still think about you.

You stared at the message, your heart climbing into your throat.

You [1:19 AM]: What did you say?

There was a long pause. You watched the typing bubble flash on and off, like he was starting and stopping a hundred replies he couldn't bring himself to send.

San [1:22 AM]: I lied.

You swallowed hard. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, not sure what to say to that. Not sure if you should say anything at all.

You [1:23 AM]: Why?

Another long silence.

When his reply came, it felt like something tearing at the seams.

San [1:26 AM]: Because I know things would get weird. And because if I told the truth, I'd have to admit I still miss you. Every day.

The air felt thin in your apartment, like the words had sucked all the oxygen out of the room. You pressed the heel of your hand against your chest, trying to slow the frantic hammering of your heart.

You knew you should put the phone down. You knew you should tell him to stop. But your thumbs moved before your brain could catch up.

You [1:27 AM]: I miss you too. All the time.

You didn't get a reply right away. You stared at the ceiling in the dark, phone clutched to your chest, heart pounding like it wanted to claw its way out of you. Finally, your phone buzzed.

San [1:41 AM]: Can I call you?

You hesitated, every rational part of you screaming no. But you were already unlocking your phone, already hitting "Accept" when his name lit up your screen.

"Hey," he said, voice rough and low like he hadn't slept.

"Hey," you whispered back.

Neither of you spoke for a long time. You just listened to each other breathe, miles apart but tangled up in something too old and too deep to untangle now. And even though you knew better -even though you knew how this would end- you let yourself believe, for one small, aching moment, that you weren't alone.

You never meant for it to happen. At first, it was innocent enough -if you squinted hard enough and ignored the way your heart twisted every time he laughed.

You and San started meeting up again. Coffee shops, quiet bookstores, late-night drives where the windows stayed rolled down and the music stayed low enough that you could pretend the silence between you wasn't heavy with all the things you couldn't say.

It wasn't like before, not exactly. There was a distance to it, an invisible line drawn between you that neither of you crossed. You talked about small things: new hobbies, work, the latest movie he thought you'd hate but ended up loving.

He was careful. You were careful. At least at first. You two tried hard to believe it was friendly. At some point, you two believed it could be friendly. But it was never just friendship, not really. Not when your hands brushed accidentally reaching for the same book, and you both froze like you'd touched an open flame. Not when he looked at you too long and too soft, like he was memorizing you all over again. Not when the air between you felt charged, electric, like something was waiting to break.

The night it finally happened, it wasn't even anything special.

You were sitting side by side on the hood of his car, parked in an empty lot overlooking the city, the skyline glittering like a thousand tiny promises. A half-empty bag of takeout sat abandoned between you. The radio played something low and sad, barely more than a hum. San tipped his head back, looking at the stars.

"You ever think about how we almost got it right?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

You didn't pretend not to know what he meant. The question took you by surprise, or so you wanted to believe. Although, actually, it wasn't a topic you didn't expect to be brought up.

"Yeah," you said.

"It's so ridiculous. But being here with you, it feels like nothing has changed" he lowly admitted, his brows slightly furrowing. "Absolutely everything has changed, actually" he finally sighed.

Silence stretched between you, thick and aching. He turned his head to look at you, really look at you. And you knew, in that moment, that if you moved even a little closer, he wouldn't stop you.

"It feels so wrong, but so right at the same time" his eyes momentarily moved to your lips. "It feels like this is exactly where we belong, after everything".

Your heart hammered against your ribs, frantic and pleading. You should have gotten off the car. You should have walked away. Instead, you shifted closer, just enough. The space between you cracked and collapsed, and then: he kissed you.

It wasn't desperate, not at first. It was slow, careful, almost reverent.

His lips brushed yours, tentative, like he wasn't sure if you would let him. You kissed him back -soft, aching- and you felt him break against you with a quiet, helpless sound. One of his hands came up to cradle your jaw, thumb stroking the curve of your cheek. The other slipped into your hair, tugging you closer like he couldn't stand even an inch of distance between you anymore. You melted into him, fingers curling in the front of his jacket, anchoring yourself to something you knew you couldn't keep.

It was everything you'd been starving for -all the unspoken things pouring out in a kiss that tasted like grief and longing and home.

For a minute, it was easy to forget the world outside: the girlfriend waiting for him to come home, the promises you had both already broken just by being here.

For a minute, there was only him.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathing hard, foreheads resting against each other, eyes squeezed shut like it could undo what just happened. You moved first, pushing yourself back when Annie's ringtone, he had especially for her, rang in your ear through your silence.

"I'm sorry," San rasped, voice wrecked. "I shouldn't have..."

You shook your head, cutting him off, tears stinging the backs of your eyes.

"I know," you whispered. "It was a mistake".

Neither of you moved. And then, like something had snapped back into place -cruel and merciless- San moved further away.

The loss of him felt like a physical thing, like the air itself had been punched out of your lungs.

"I can't," he said, almost to himself. "I can't do this to her."

You nodded, even though every cell in your body screamed at you to grab him, to hold him, to beg him to stay.

"You shouldn't do that to her" you said, voice cracking.

You were already aware of her existence, of her role in his life. Guilt was already gripping on you tight. But, somehow, hearing him say it himself, made something in you break.

San looked at you for a long, breaking moment -like he was trying to memorize you one last time.

"I'll drive you home" he suggested, but you shook your head.

How were you going to spend a single second alone in such an empty space with him and not go insane? No, you couldn't.

"I'll call a cab".

"Y/n, don't be ridiculous. I'll drive you..."

"I said no".

He didn't insist, he didn't speak. He just nodded and rested his lower half against the hood of his car, silently accepting your choice, but assuring you he'd wait with you until the taxi came to pick you up.

Both of you were on opposite sides of the car. He remained at the front, while you stayed at the back. You stood there under the brittle stars, arms wrapped around yourself, feeling like you were bleeding out into the dark.

The tears started rolling down out of your control, and the silent sobs only caused you to painfully breathe through your nose.

The moment the taxi arrived, you hopped inside. Neither of you spoke, neither of you looked. It was like everything would fall down the second your eyes met again.

After that, the distance was sharp and brutal. No more late-night texts. No more casual meetups. No more pretending you could be friends in order to keep seeing each other.

You didn't blame him. You didn't blame yourself, either. Sometimes love wasn't enough - you knew that too well. Sometimes it was the very thing that broke you. And you knew -deep in the hollow, echoing part of your chest- that you would carry the weight in your heart.

You shouldn't have said yes to Wooyoung. You knew it the second you stepped into the bar, with the low thrum of music, the too-familiar laughter of old friends, the hum of a past you weren't sure you belonged to anymore.

But when Wooyoung had called you a few days ago, voice bright and persuasive, it had been impossible to say no.

"Come on, just for a little," he'd said. "It's been ages. Everyone misses you."

You should've known he meant San. Maybe part of you had known. Maybe that was why you spent twenty minutes deciding on a dress, why your hands had shaken while putting on eyeliner, why your stomach had twisted the whole cab ride over.

You'd barely stepped through the door when you saw him.

He looked... different. Not drastically, but enough. It wasn't the kind of different that was physical. It was the type of different that you could easily recognize after years together, after knowing every pore of his body.

He looked absent when you first stepped inside, his eyes looking tired even from afar. The kind of tiredness in his eyes that didn't come from lack of sleep.

He looked up -like he felt you- and his eyes met yours across the room.

Everything in your chest stilled. You tried to smile, it almost worked. You could even feel the corners of your lips moving up, but then she appeared beside him.

Annie.

Tall. Graceful. Effortlessly pretty in that expensive, put-together way that made you immediately feel like a kid playing dress-up. She was laughing at something San had said, hand on his arm.

You froze.

San noticed. You saw the subtle stiffening of his shoulders, the flicker of guilt in his eyes.

He started to step forward, but Wooyoung was already there, grabbing your hand and pulling you deeper into the crowd before San could say a word, before you could even think of turning around and getting out of the bar.

For a while, you managed to pretend.

You laughed. You drank. You hugged old friends and nodded along to stories you weren't really listening to.

You avoided San's eyes, but you could feel him watching you.

Every time you turned your head, he was there -leaning against the wall, fingers tight around his drink, eyes tracing your every move like he was trying to read something in your posture. And Annie noticed.

Of course she noticed.

She was subtle about it, in the way girls like her always are -never loud, never direct-, in a way you never were. Just sharp smiles and comments dipped in honey and poison.

At one point, you found yourself at the same corner of the room, reaching for the same bottle of wine.

She smiled at you. Perfect teeth. Glossed lips.

"You're Y/n, right?" she asked, as if she hadn't already memorized your face.

You nodded. "Yeah."

She tilted her head, all charm and calculation.

"I've heard a lot about you," she said. "It's so great you two are still... friendly."

There it was.

You smiled -tight, cold. "Yeah. It's good to catch up sometimes" you sighed. "I'm here for Wooyoung though. He's still our friend, after all".

"Of course, it's about Woo" she poured herself a drink. "I just think it's so important to be mature, you know? To let the past stay in the past."

You stared at her. She didn't blink.

It felt like a warning. It was a warning.

You felt the blood rise in your throat, like it wanted to speak for you. But instead, you swallowed hard and turned away without a word.

For the next twenty minutes, you tried to ignore that look she gave you, that tone in her voice, but you couldn't. Looking around, seeing how she interacted with everyone, it all made sense: you were the only one who had no business being there anymore.

You couldn't stay.

You barely remembered grabbing your coat, or the excuse you made up when you told Wooyoung you were leaving. You just knew that the music was too loud, the air too thick, the walls closing in.

You pushed through the door and into the night, cold air burning your lungs, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

The sidewalk was cracked and uneven beneath your heels, and the cold wind bit at your arms through your thin jacket. You kept your eyes forward, your hands clenched deep in your pockets, and your breath came hard and fast as you walked. You didn't stop until you reached your apartment door.

Inside, you didn't cry. You didn't scream. You just stood there in the quiet of your entryway, staring at the shadows on the floor as your chest rose and fell with the kind of heaviness that only came from trying not to fall apart.

You poured yourself a glass of water, sat on the couch in the dark, and let the silence eat away at the space around you.

It felt like something inside you had been opened again, peeled raw -a wound you'd tried so carefully to suture now torn wide once more.

You didn't regret leaving, but you hated that it still hurt this much.

San had noticed the moment you were gone. When you thought you were sneaking outside, just like you used to before he found you hiding in a corner, trying to get back some energy. But that night, he knew he wouldn't find you in any corner of that bar.

He felt the change in the room like someone had turned off the oxygen. One moment you were there, barely, and the next, you were just... gone.

He scanned the crowd, heart stuttering in his chest, but you weren't anywhere.

"Hey," Annie said, sliding beside him with a laugh, looping her arm through his. "You good? You've been off all night."

San blinked and looked down at her. She was smiling, but there was an edge to it — something cold and coiled underneath.

"Just tired," he said.

"Right," she replied, voice light but pointed. "Tired from pretending not to look at your ex every ten seconds."

San's stomach tightened. "Don't do that."

She raised a brow. "Do what? Be honest? At least one of us has to be."

"Don't make a scene. Not today" he asked, not even making the effort to pretend he didn't want to fight with her.

Because, deep inside, he wanted that fight to happen, he wanted her to leave. But he didn't push it.

"Oh, don't talk down on me with that tone, like I'm just being the crazy girlfriend" she rushed to say, before he could even go back again to that calm state.

He didn't answer. His gaze drifted again to the front door, still closed. Still no sign of you. It was so ridiculous. His relationship was drifting apart, yet all he could think about was you.

Annie sighed. "You know what? Let's just go."

He nodded. Too quickly.

"I'll drive you," he said.

She looked surprised for a second, then narrowed her eyes. "Okay."

The drive to her place was quiet. San kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other drumming an anxious rhythm on his thigh. Annie said nothing. She was scrolling through her phone, jaw tight, profile hard in the passing streetlights.

"You're quiet," she muttered finally.

"So are you."

"Because I'm trying not to pick a fight in a moving vehicle."

San's grip tightened, he held back the eyeroll. "I didn't ask you to come tonight."

"Maybe that's the problem" she turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. "You knew she'd be here, right?"

He didn't respond.

Annie scoffed under her breath. "It's so obvious you still feel something for her."

"I don't..." he started, then stopped. Swallowed. "Annie, stop with all of this. Stop making things difficult."

Annie turned to face him, face blank. "Then make them simple."

The car rolled to a stop in front of her apartment. San didn't put it in park, and she knew he wasn't going to stay that night. He wasn't even going to go up to her place to argue. He wasn't going to make the effort, at all.

She stared at him for a beat longer, then unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. She turned once more, lips pursing as she nodded, eating all of her insecurities, eating all of the words in her throat, to simply say:

"Goodnight, San," she said quietly, and closed it behind her.

He waited until she disappeared inside before he exhaled. His hands gripped the wheel for another long moment -knuckles white, jaw clenched- and then, before he could talk himself out of it, he turned the car around.

He knew exactly where he was going.

You heard the knock just before midnight. Soft. Hesitant. Like someone unsure they had the right to be there. You didn't have to look through the peephole to know who it was. You could recognize those knocks anywhere. Still, you hesitated before opening the door.

When you did, San stood there -hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, windblown and wide-eyed, like he hadn't thought this far ahead.

Neither of you spoke at first.

He looked tired. Like he hadn't slept in weeks. Like the silence between you was the only thing holding him together.

"I dropped her off," he said, like that explained anything at all.

You nodded. Your voice came out low. "You shouldn't be here."

"I know."

You didn't move. Neither did he.

"I needed to see you," he said. "Just... tonight. I needed..."

You waited. But he didn't finish. He just looked at you like you were the only safe place left in a burning house. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the door.

"Do you want to come in?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

He nodded once, and you stepped aside to let him in.

You hadn't expected him to say yes. You hadn't expected him to step into your apartment like it was still familiar, like no time had passed at all. But he did.

San stood awkwardly in the middle of your living room, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets, eyes scanning the space like it had changed in some subtle way he couldn't quite name.

It hadn't. Not really.

Same soft lighting. Same throw pillows he used to complain were more decorative than functional. Same faint scent of lavender and old perfume woven into the walls.

You watched him carefully as you set a glass of water on the coffee table. He sat down slowly, elbows on knees, looking like he might fold in on himself if he moved too fast.

You sat across from him.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was thick -not uncomfortable, exactly. Just fragile. Like one wrong word would snap it in two.

"I shouldn't be here," he said.

You nodded, slowly. "I know."

"But I didn't know where else to go."

You looked at him, and realized you knew exactly what he meant. You'd been there, too. A hundred nights, maybe more. Wondering where to go with all the feelings that had nowhere left to land.

"I didn't ask you to come," you said quietly.

"I know."

Another beat passed.

He took the glass of water, and sipped it. Set it back down without meeting your eyes.

"Did you ever miss me?" he asked suddenly.

You blinked. "San..."

"I'm serious," he said, louder now, voice cracking just enough to cut through the quiet. "Did you? Because I missed you. I missed you, every fucking day. You have no idea how hard it was to let you go. I spent nights without sleeping, I went to the therapist because everywhere I looked reminded me of you. You have no idea how hard it was for me to get over you. And then you show up again and pretend like it's casual. Like we didn't... like you didn't mean everything to me."

His chest tightened at the realization that, maybe, he never really got over you. He just learned to live with your absence, but he always waited for you to show up. It was obvious at first, and later it turned subtle. So hidden that his brain didn't even register it as longing anymore.

But it was.

Your chest tightened. "That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" His laugh was bitter. "You walked away. You decided we were over. And then you come back and sit across from me like we're just old friends catching up. Like I'm supposed to smile and move on like nothing ever happened."

You stood up, heart hammering.

"I didn't come back to ruin your life."

"Well, you did!" he snapped, standing too now, too close. "You came back and turned everything upside down. I can't think straight anymore. I can't sleep. I can't even look at Annie without feeling like a fucking liar."

Your breath hitched. "That's not on me."

"It's not?"

His eyes were wild, glassy with too many unsaid things. His voice dropped low, rough with emotion.

"You have no idea what you've done to me."

You stared at him, at the angry curve of his mouth, the way his chest heaved, the desperation flickering behind his words.

And you broke.

Because you haven't stopped thinking about him, because you couldn't even think of another man kissing your lips if it wasn't him. Because you spent twelve, and even fourteen, hours focused on words so your mind wouldn't remember how good it felt when you were together.

"I've been holding myself together with duct tape and willpower since the day I left you," you said, voice shaking. "You think I came back to mess with your head? I came back because this city feels like home and because every other place felt like pretending. And I didn't ask to feel like this again. I didn't want this again."

He was looking at you like he'd never stopped.

"I didn't want it either," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

And then something cracked between you, like a dam giving way.

He stepped forward, you didn't move. His hand curled around the side of your neck -not rough, but firm, anchoring- and then his mouth was on yours.

The kiss wasn't soft.

It was desperate. Starved. Years of silence and resentment and longing pulled tight into one breathless, furious moment.

You kissed him like you were drowning. Like you were trying to find air in his mouth. He kissed you like you were the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

His other hand gripped your waist, pulling you closer, and you let him -let him press against you like he was trying to make up for every night you'd both spent alone, in separate beds, wondering what went wrong.

There was no room left for thought. No room left for guilt. Only the sound of breath and the rush of blood and the ache you both had kept buried for too long.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and your eyes stayed closed. You could still taste him on your lips.

"San," you whispered.

"I know," he said. "I know."

The silence after was deafening. You didn't speak again. You didn't need to, because what you felt in that kiss, it wasn't closure.

It was something much more dangerous.

Your lips met again the moment your eyes met after taking one breath. This time with more urgency, as if the need from all the time you were away was thrown onto it. Your tongues danced together in a rhythm you two were quite familiar with.

It was like nothing had changed.

San's hands roamed over your body, reacquainting themselves with every curve and dip. You moaned as his fingers found the sensitive spot on your neck, squeezing it the way he knew it made you squirm and fold, sending shivers down your spine. You grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer, your body aching for more.

"This is so wrong" you managed to whisper against his lips, only breaking the kisses to shed some conscience that neither of you wanted back.

San growled in response, his hands moving to quickly pull from your shirt, throwing it over your head. He kissed your neck, his teeth grazing your skin the same way his fingers were just seconds back, making you gasp.

At some point, it was like a speed race on who was faster on getting the other out of your clothes. While he unclasped your bra, you helped him out of his shirt, your hands exploring his muscular chest, tracing all of the muscles like you knew them by heart.

His mind was running a million per hour the second he got you out of your underwear. He didn't mind when it happened, he didn't care if it was right on the floor beneath you, but he needed to have you. Even if it was just one last time.

San picked you up easily, wrapping your legs around his waist to carry you to your bedroom. The same place where he had you countless times before, in different ways. With candles, with half of your clothes on because you just couldn't wait to get your hands on each other's, slow, fast...

It was crazy how much you two missed it.

San laid you down on the bed, his eyes roaming over your naked body with hunger, before crawling on the mattress to get on top of you. He started at your neck, kissing and nibbling his way down to your breasts, taking each nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing until you were writhing beneath him.

When his hand moved to cup your core, you could barely hold back the whine. Two of his fingers moved through your folds, as if he couldn't quite believe you were still so responsive to his touch.

The moment he pulled back to look at you, so he could look at you while he licked his fingers, it was when you started seeing nothing else but him. Absolutely nothing else mattered.

"You taste so fucking good, Y/n," San murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Exactly like I remember".

You moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair. "San, please..."

San obliged, moving down your body, spreading your legs. He didn't need you to say anything else, because he already knew what you needed. He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust. "You're so wet, Y/n. You want my cock, don't you?"

You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps. "Yes, San. I want you"

San smiled, his tongue flicking out to taste you after he settled between your legs, pushing your thighs up to his shoulders. You bucked against him, a soft moan escaping your lips. San continued to lick and suck, his fingers joining in, teasing your clit until you were on the brink of ecstasy.

"Fuck me" you begged, your body trembling with need.

Again, he moved over your body to settle his body between your legs, your thighs now falling at his hips. Your hand moved down his torso to wrap around his length, your slim fingers fitted just perfect as you moved them up and down.

San positioned himself at your entrance, wrapping his fingers on top of yours, his length hard and ready. He pushed in slowly, giving you time to adjust to his size, feeling the way your channel stretched out for him as he pushed in deeper. You moaned, your nails digging into his back, the moment your hips met. He stayed there for a few seconds, breaking through the pleasure to look into your eyes, finding a spark he hadn't seen on anyone else before.

As if to erase the thoughts that were crossing his mind, he kissed you again, hungrily, desperately.

"You're so tight, babe" San groaned, starting to move inside you. "I've missed this. I've missed you."

You wrapped your legs around him, meeting his thrusts, moving your hips in sync with his. "I've missed you, too"

He recognized that cracking in your voice mid-moan, he knew what you needed without you saying a word, and he complied, his hips moving faster, his dick filling you completely. You could feel the pleasure building, your body on fire with desire. You could even hear the wet sounds of your bodies coming together, the moans and gasps filling the room.

"Yes, San. Just like that," you panted. "Faster. Harder."

San increased the pace, his body slamming against yours. You could feel her orgasm building, your body tensing with anticipation. As you looked into San's eyes, you could see the raw desire and love reflected back at you.

God, it was like nothing changed.

"I'm close, San. So close," you gasped.

San reached between you, his fingers finding your clit. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, pushing you over the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing with pleasure. San followed soon after, his length pulsing inside you as he reached his high, his body shaking with the force of his release.

When you looked at each other again, you could both feel something building up. The guilt. You allowed yourselves to get carried away by the feelings you found no explanation for. Yet, at the same time, it felt right.

And you both knew that wouldn't be the last time.

Your body was still humming when he pulled away.

The room was warm, and your skin was slick with sweat, sheets tangled around your legs, breath shallow as you stared up at the ceiling like it might offer answers you stopped searching for long ago.

San lay beside you, arm draped across your stomach, chest rising and falling against your side. The silence between you had stopped being awkward a long time ago. Now it just felt... necessary. Like a blanket you both wrapped around the things you didn't want to say.

You shifted slightly, drawing the sheets up over your chest, but didn't move away from him.

Didn't want to.

He was still inside the world you'd built here, in this small apartment, in this one dimly lit bedroom where the outside didn't exist. Where Annie didn't exist.

You felt him stir beside you. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your bare stomach, a touch that felt more like habit than lust. Like muscle memory. Like love he didn't know how to name anymore.

"I shouldn't still be here," he murmured.

You didn't answer. Not right away. Because you knew he would leave eventually. He always did.

Instead, you stared at the ceiling and let the weight of his arm keep you tethered.

"How long are we going to do this?" you asked finally.

His hand paused. Then resumed its slow circles.

"I don't know."

You turned your head to look at him -his face soft in the afterglow, hair messy, lips still parted from the way he'd whispered your name just minutes before. You wanted to memorize him like this. Not the version that smiled politely across coffee tables, or the one that walked beside Annie at crowded parties.

This version: all stripped down and real and yours, even if only in stolen pieces.

"She's going to find out," you said.

"I know."

You swallowed, throat tight. "And when she does?"

He didn't answer. Just exhaled, long and tired. You rolled onto your side, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

"This isn't fair," you whispered.

"I know," he said again, softer this time. "But when I'm here... I can breathe."

Your eyes stung. You weren't sure if it was guilt or something crueler, like hope.

You swallowed. "Why don't you just break up with her?"

His hand stopped. The silence that followed was colder than anything else that had passed between you.

When he didn't speak, you sat up a little, keeping the sheets clutched against your chest.

"San."

He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand, suddenly tense. "You think it's that easy?"

"No," you said. "But I think if you were really happy, you wouldn't be here."

He looked at you then, and something sharp flickered across his face. Guilt. Anger. Fear. All tangled up in a single breath.

"I care about her," he said tightly.

You nodded, slow and tired. "Yeah. Just not enough to stop sleeping with me."

That landed. His jaw clenched, and he sat up too, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

"This wasn't supposed to happen," he muttered.

"But it did. Actually, it's been happening for two weeks".

You leaned back against the headboard, heart pounding beneath your skin. You hated this. You hated yourself for asking. Hated him for not having an answer. Hated the way he still hadn't left.

"I used to think we were endgame," you said, barely above a whisper. "You know that?"

"So did I."

"But now I just think we're moving around a past that won't come back" you finally said. "It won't ever be the same".

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The air in the room was heavy -not with lust, not anymore. But with everything you'd both lost and everything you were still clinging to.

He didn't reply. He just turned toward you, eyes burning, and kissed you. Hard.

It wasn't an answer. It was avoidance, maybe. Or desperation. But you kissed him back anyway, letting him push you down into the mattress, letting your guilt melt into his mouth and your hands clinging to the only thing that still felt real.

Later, when the room went still again, neither of you spoke.

Not about her. Not about what this meant. Not about the fact that it couldn't go on like this forever.

Outside, the world went on. Inside, you stayed wrapped in sheets and silence and secrets.

And when he eventually rose to dress, when he kissed your forehead and promised he'd text you later, even though you both knew it wasn't enough, you let him go.

Because you knew he'd come back. And that was what terrified you most.

The days after that night were quiet.

No texts. No late-night calls. No hasty plans wrapped in guilt and whispered names beneath the sheets.

You both disappeared into your lives like nothing had happened.

It was the only thing you could do.

You busied yourself with the parts of life that had nothing to do with him: work, laundry, walking the long way home so you wouldn't accidentally pass his building. You cleaned the apartment more than it needed. Rearranged the bookshelves. Drank wine alone, long after the sun had gone down.

You didn't check your phone as much anymore.

Not that he'd messaged.

But you still looked.

Some part of you had wanted him to say something, not to apologize, not to fix it. Just to acknowledge what that night had been. That intimacy and passion. That argument. The fact that it hadn't been a game for either of you.

But silence stretched like a bruise between you.

You didn't know if it was guilt or discipline. If he was doing it for Annie, or for himself. Or maybe for you, some misguided attempt at kindness, cutting things off before they could fall apart again.

Either way, it worked.

You stopped hoping, stopped replaying everything in your head. And slowly, that aching, unbearable question crept back in.

What were you still doing there?

It was the same one that had followed you around the city when you'd first returned. The one you ignored every time you ran into an old friend, or passed a place that still smelled like him. The one that screamed inside your chest when you kissed him again -still wanted him again- despite everything.

This city didn't feel like yours anymore. And neither did he.

You stared at your packed suitcase for a long time.

It wasn't full yet, but it would be. Soon.

You didn't know where you were going. Just that it couldn't be there.

Not now. Not with the memory of him wrapped around your bones like a secret you could no longer carry.

You picked up your phone before you could change your mind. Your fingers hovered over the screen for longer than you'd admit.

And then you typed:

You [09:26 PM]: Can I see you? Just once more. I'll be gone by morning. I promise.

Hold me, Console Me...

You didn't expect him to respond to your message right away.

But you barely had time to pace the length of your living room before his reply came through.

San [09:28 PM]: I'll be here.

No questions. No hesitation. No surprise.

You took the long way to his apartment, walking slower than usual. Your breath came in shallow pulls, chest heavy with everything you weren't ready to say. The night was cool and still, the city quieter than you remembered it ever being. Or maybe it was just you -quieter now, dulled by the weight of what this night would mean.

When he opened the door, he didn't say anything. Just stepped aside and let you in.

The lights were low, the same familiar shadows cast across the floor, like they'd never changed since you left the last time. It was all the same -him, this space, the silence between you- except for the knowledge that this would be the last time.

You walked past him into the living room and sat on the edge of the couch, hands folded in your lap. He followed you slowly, sitting beside you, not too close but not far either.

It was a while before anyone spoke.

"You look tired," he said, gently.

You let out a quiet laugh. "So do you."

He gave you a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

A breath passed. Then another.

"I've been thinking about that night," he said finally. "The last time we were together"

You looked down at your hands.

"I know."

"You said this wasn't fair. That I was lying to her. That we were both lying to ourselves."

You nodded once, slowly. "I meant it."

He looked at you, searching your face like there was something hidden there -something he'd missed all along.

"I need you to be honest with me about something" he said.

Because he had gone insane those weeks you had been seeing each other, long before you shared those secret nights. Because your answer could change everything he had planned.

You hesitated, then nodded.

"Why did you leave the first time?"

His voice was soft. Not accusatory. Just... tired. Like he'd been carrying that question for a long time.

You took a breath, eyes stinging before you even spoke. "Because you had your life figured out," you said. "You had this plan, this career, this path that made sense. And I..."

Your voice caught. You blinked it away.

"I didn't. I didn't know what I was doing. I felt like I was always scrambling to keep up. And I didn't want to hold you back."

"You never held me back."

"I felt like I did."

He shook his head, like it physically hurt him to hear that.

"I loved you," he said.

When he actually wanted to say that he still loved you. His heart still beated for you like it did the first time he confessed his feelings in the middle of that park. And that was why he didn't hesitate on breaking up with Annie two days after you left his apartment. Because a relationship that wasn't with you just didn't make any sense for him.

But he held back from saying that, he didn't tell you yet, because something in your eyes let him know it wasn't the time yet. That night wasn't the moment for that.

"I loved you, too," you whispered. "That's why I left. Because I thought that was what love was. Letting you go so you could grow without me dragging you down."

You didn't tell him that you were planning to leave again. That the city didn't feel like home, that nothing did anymore. You didn't want to see the look in his eyes, didn't want him to ask you to stay, didn't want him not to.

So instead, you leaned in and kissed him.

It was quiet at first -soft, tentative, like the brush of a memory. But when his hand found the back of your neck, when he pulled you closer like he was afraid you'd disappear before morning, the kiss deepened. His mouth moved against yours with something desperate and breaking, like he was trying to apologize and beg and remember all at once.

You let him. You let your fingers slide into his hair, let your body fall into his the way it always had.

Familiar. Natural. Inevitable.

You didn't speak as he pulled you toward the bedroom.

There was no need for words anymore.

You kissed like you were drowning. Like this was the last breath you'd get. Like you could memorize each other's skin well enough to survive the rest of your lives without it.

It wasn't rushed. It was reverent. Painful. Beautiful.

You held him tighter than you ever had before, even as something inside you fractured quietly, knowing this wasn't forever. Knowing this wasn't a new beginning, but the softest kind of ending.

He held you like his body knew it was a goodbye, even if his mind thought it was a second beginning that would end well.

When it was over, he pulled you into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you. You lay there in the stillness, your body curled into his, listening to his breathing.

You didn't cry. You were past crying. You just closed your eyes and let yourself pretend, for a few moments longer, that this was still yours. That he was still yours.

And in the morning, while he was still sleeping, you would be gone.

... And then I'll leave without a trace.

San woke to silence.

The kind that felt off. Too still. Too hollow.

The sheets were cold beside him, your side of the bed empty, untouched, like you'd disappeared into the night itself. At first, he thought you might just be in the kitchen. Or the shower. Or sitting by the window again, bare knees pulled to your chest like you always did when you needed space to think.

But when he called out your name, there was no answer.

His heart beat a little faster. He pushed off the covers and checked the bathroom, empty. The kitchen, the living room -nothing. Not even a mug in the sink or a sweater left on the back of a chair. Just absence. The kind that screamed that you were gone.

Panic curled in his throat.

He grabbed his phone. No messages.

He dialed anyway, straight to voicemail.

He stood there barefoot in his living room, staring at the front door like maybe you'd still come back through it. Like maybe this was some kind of test. Or a punishment. Or a mistake. But something in his chest already knew the truth.

You'd left.

Not in anger. Not in drama.

You'd just... slipped away. Quiet as the night. Careful as always.

And this time, you'd meant it.

San didn't bother getting dressed properly, just threw on sweats and a hoodie and rushed down the stairs like urgency alone could stop what had already happened. He drove fast, barely remembering the turns.

Your apartment building was quiet when he got there.

Too quiet.

He knocked once. Then again. Then harder.

No answer.

The door was unlocked. When he stepped inside, the air hit him like a wall.

Gone. All of it.

No furniture. No pictures on the walls. No half-packed boxes or forgotten belongings. Just four white walls and hardwood floors and the echo of his own heartbeat.

It looked like no one had ever lived there at all.

He stood in the center of the room, staring at the space where your couch used to be. Where he once sat with you while your legs rested across his lap, laughter soft between sips of beer.

He walked to the kitchen: empty.

The bedroom: stripped bare.

Not even a note. Not a trace. Nothing. Just like you'd promised.

He sat on the edge of the bed frame, his fingers curling into fists.

Then he called again, still voicemail.

He didn't leave a message. There wasn't anything left to say.

You were gone. Really gone this time. And for the first time since he met you, he couldn't find where you'd left your shadow. 

[armpirate]

Until You're Mine || Choi San

San, a notorious and feared mafia boss, has always lived in the shadows of power and violence. When an ambush leaves him wounded and on the run, he finds refuge in an empty event hall. Inside, Y/n, a rising star in the world of event planning, is nursing her own wounds -a career on the line after a confrontation with a powerful client. The last thing she expects is for her night to take a dark turn when San stumbles into her life, bloodied and dangerous.

Despite the fear and uncertainty, Y/n can't turn away. She helps him clean up, binding more than just his wounds in the process. What begins as an intense, chance encounter spirals into a dangerous obsession. San, used to being the hunter, becomes fixated on the one woman who dared to help him, even in his darkest moment. Meanwhile, Y/n, caught in the mystery of that powerful man, finds herself tracking his every move, unable to shake the dangerous allure of his world.

Neither knows that their fascination with each other is mutual. In a city teeming with danger, power, and deceit, their secret obsessions will pull them deeper into a deadly game -one where love, power, and obsession intertwine, and nothing is as it seems.

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 -

[armpirate]

Bittersweet || San

Bf experience

pairing: Idol!Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 6.2k

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst, smut, rough sex, oral sex (female receiving), masturbation (female receiving), unprotected sex, breast play, dirty talk. (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content).

Summary: After some change of plans at work forced him to stood you up for your birthday, your boyfriend comes up with sometimes to make up for it.

Aprox. time of reading: 26 minutes

MASTERLIST

San looked at the empty dinner table where a few petals left were lying, and that a few hours back were part of the decoration along with some dishes filled with food. He didn't dare to step inside the kitchen and fridge, because he knew it would be filled with all the food he had ordered, and that birthday cake he managed to buy a day before everything escaped his control.

The plan was easy: order all of your favorite food, buy your favorite cake, and be at home on time so he could celebrate his favorite person's birthday. But instead, the recordings took longer than they should have, and one problem came after the other.

You kept insisting throughout the week how it wasn't necessary for him to do all that for you, and how you could postpone that celebration to a more peaceful time. But it was enough to see your smile attempting to break your concerned expression for him to know he needed to be there for you. He was also sure that, the same way you tried to convince him to save it up for another time, you'd say it was alright when he stepped inside your bedroom and joined you in the bed.

It was always like that. His work got in the way of your relationship, and your first words were "It's okay", when he indeed knew it wasn't okay.

It was of no help how you stayed at home, instead of spending your birthday with your friends, because he assured you he'd be just "a bit late". Not only did he felt like he ruined the dinner, he felt guilty by making you sit there by yourself while you waited for something that would never happen, at least not that night.

"Food won't show up as much as you think about it" you joked behind him.

San turned to you as soon as he heard your voice, momentarily distracted by how good you looked wearing one of his gray hoodies, exposing your bare thighs and walking around like the treat he knew he didn't deserve.

"I didn't hear you enter" you added, walking to him.

For nights like that one, you gave San your code. It was comfortable, and it was also a special show of affection and trust. But it also gave him the possibility to spoil you with something as simple as going to sleep all alone, and feeling warmed by his embrace after you woke up in the middle of the night -or seeing his face the first thing in the morning when a few hours back you didn't think you'd see him.

Although that night you waited for him. You stayed in bed, scrolling through TikTok and social media, just to pretend to be asleep when he stepped inside the room and snuggled next to you, surrounding your waist carefully so as not to wake you up. You started to think you'd fall asleep before he even showed up, and that was why you got up for a glass of water, forcing yourself to stay up.

And that was when you saw him.

The living room was only lit by the two hanging lamps over the dinner table, making your boyfriend the focus of the whole place. The side on San's body that was looking at the table was bathed by the warm light, while the other half stayed in the dark, making his figure even thicker and wider by the contrast of lights.

"I tried to be careful. I didn't want to wake you up" he answered, turning to you at the same time his arms slightly opened for you.

Your hands moved around his tiny waist, ascending to his side under the black bomber. His arms instantly enclosed around you, trapping you in a gentle but safe grip you didn't want to get away from in a really long time.

As his hands moved over your nape and spine, he could feel each one of your muscles relaxing under his touch, even he could feel the weight of your head a bit heavier on his chest as you snuggled against him.

"How was your day? I bet you're tired" your voice sounded muffled, but you didn't move a single millimeter to make it sound clearer, you were too hooked on his woody scent.

San dropped a sigh, moving his hand up inside the locks of your hair "It was nothing special" he assured. "I recorded my parts earlier today, I went to work out, I rehearsed for a bit. And when I was getting my things ready to leave, they told me I had to record my parts again because there were some issues" he softly explained, never stopping the gentle movements of his fingers on your scalp. "How was your day?".

You simply shrugged, hiding your face deeper in his chest as you remembered your shift had nothing special that day. You did your daily tasks as usual, and finished them around the same time as well. And apparently your boss kept track of your personal schedule as much as you did, because he called you into his office as soon as you thought about picking up your phone to answer some texts. Being offered the promotion you were waiting for wasn't on your plans for the day, and being explained what it consisted of -aware of how your boss had thought of you enough to bother explaining every detail of that new position-, or what would be the changes you'd need to face.

"It was good. It's actually been better after I talked to you about it and how I felt" you admitted, sighing. "And you won't believe it, but they offered me the promotion".

San pushed you carefully, just enough to be able to look at your face as his eyes widened with the good news.

"You're saying it as if it was the most normal thing".

"It is the most normal thing" you giggled. "Besides, I don't really want to talk about it right now".

Your face was hidden back in his chest as your arms wrapped around him tight. You didn't think that it wasn't important, or that it wasn't big. You just didn't want to make the mood even heavier by ranting about the pros and cons that would come with the promotion.

"I missed you so much" your voice sounded muffled again, making him chuckle.

Unlike other times, you were able to see each other quite frequently. It was the positive thing of that time between comebacks and tours: he was still busy, but he was able to be around whenever he was done. Whether it was by the way he sneaked inside your room, or how you cuddled on the couch when he happened to have a day off.

"You saw me yesterday" he tried to knock some sense into your comment, instantly getting a squinted look from you.

"So you mean you didn't miss me?".

"Of course I did. I miss you every minute" he pulled you in for a hug again.

You moved back, only a little bit to look up at him, standing on your tiptoes to be able to link your lips together. Your hands moved from his waist to his shoulders, holding onto the neck of his bomber to be able to keep your balance -it didn't matter though, because San's hands were firmly holding you, resting on your lower back.

"Let's go to sleep" you broke the kiss first, taking every remaining of his saliva from your lips as you moved your tongue over them. "You must be tired".

Your clumsy step was interrupted by the grip of his fingers around your wrist, pulling you closer to his body suddenly as he scrunched down to lift your body and carry you like a bride, making you rushed to cover your lips with your palms as you felt a scream aiming up your throat by the sudden movement.

Resisting San and his charms was something that would never be in your plans. One small gesture, like picking you up to take you to bed, had you giggling against the curve of his neck and looking at him with eyes full of love.

He left you on the bed carefully, leaning over the mattress until you were back inside of the only space that wasn't covered by the blanket, silently growling as he stood back up. San couldn't help but smile when you quickly covered your body, only leaving half of your face out to look at him with smiley eyes.

"I'll put the pajamas on and I'll be right back" he let you know, caressing in between your eyebrows with his thumb before he stepped back from the bed.

When he opened the closet, his sleeping clothes were folded in the same place where you always left them after you had cleaned them. He had brought three different pajamas for whenever he spent the night with you, but you knew that white t-shirt and those plaid pants were his favorite. That was why they were always on the top.

San didn't take long to join you on the bed, dragging your body until you were lying on his side, surrounded by his arms, backed up by his body, and with his chin hooked on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry for today" he whispered once the sound of the sheets and your giggles were over, breathing heavily as he dropped that apology that he was sure wouldn't be enough.

"You shouldn't be sorry" you answered back. "We can celebrate it tomorrow. It's not like you did it on purpose".

"I didn't. But I promised you I'd be here, and I didn't".

"So I'm cuddling with a hologram?" you joked.

That was what he loved the most about you, and what it made him hate himself and be sure that he wouldn't ever deserve you. He was the one supposed to cheer you up for messing up that day, and instead it was you the one trying to make him feel better and taking the blame off his shoulders.

The tip of your fingers moved over the arm that you were using as a pillow, trying to reassure him that you meant your words. He wouldn't ever do anything on purpose to hurt you, you knew that, and seeing him having a hard time over something that was out of his control was hurting you.

You finally sighed, rolling over your body to face him, placing your palm over his cheek.

"This is like the trip story all over again. I know I'd probably react the same way you do if I were in your position, but I cannot make you feel guilty over missing dinner. You bought the food, you bought the cake... I know if it had been your choice, you'd have spent the whole day with me" your words sounded calm and soft. "Getting mad at you over this would be unfair".

And would only add more pressure and guilt on him.

"I'm just worried you might think you aren't my main priority" he finally admitted it.

"If I weren't, you wouldn't be feeling bad right now. And you'd probably be making up excuses" your thumb rubbed against his cheek.

You had another answer about being his main priority, assuring him that it didn't matter if his dream came before you, because you knew how much he fought to be where he was. But you didn't say it. You knew San would rant about how you shouldn't ever accept being the second priority of someone, not even if it was him, because you were more important and special than anything else. Last time you dared to say something like that, he stayed on the topic for almost two hours, until you finally nodded and promised him you wouldn't accept to be the second place in anyone's life.

"But..."

"If you say anything else after that 'but', I'll make you sleep on the couch" you warned him.

His lips disappeared in his mouth as he tried to keep himself from saying everything that was going on inside his head. Your proud smile helped move those thoughts away, to the surprise of no one, wrapping his arms around you to glue your bodies together in a warm hug.

"I love you so much, babe" he said, looking down at you.

"I love you, too".

You moved your body up a little, just enough to be able to link your lips together in a short and small peck. When you both were supposed to move back into the hug, you two also moved your faces forward to go for another kiss. A short kiss that slowly turned into a passionate one between some licks and sucking into each other's lips. Your fingers were messing with his hair, dragging him with you as you laid on your back.

While one of his hands supported your head, the other traveled over the curve of your hip, moving past the elastic of your panties to sneak inside the fabric of his hoodie. Your heavy breath, as you felt his digits digging further, almost interrupted your kiss. San smirked with that reaction, infecting you with his sensuality by just exchanging one look, before you dragged him back for another kiss.

His lips felt soft on yours, wishing you could kiss them for hours -and you probably would if only you could. Your body moved under his touch, trying to get closer to him as the tip of his fingers finally got to the curve of your breast. At the same time his mouth pulled from your lower lip, his fingertips dented on your tit, getting your back to slightly arch. Your nipple tightened under his palm, weak to the friction of his skin against yours. The combination of his fingers massaging your scalp, his tongue diving into your mouth and his palm going down your belly again were blurring your mind.

You could only think of him and the way he made you feel. So wanted and loved you even doubted it was even a real feeling.

A hum escaped your lips, and your legs undirectly spread, when his fingers moved past the elastic of your panties, sliding his fingers over your clit and sliding them through your slid over your panties.

"Let me make up for today, hmm?"

You were so focused on how deep his voice sounded after breaking the kiss, and how his lips looked shiny and moist, that your brain wasn't able to put two words together that could make sense. Slowly, you nodded.

San showered your face with kisses, giving small pecks on every corner he didn't pay attention to, while his hands started to lift his hoodie, slowly exposing your skin under the blankets, taking off the fabric with your help. His tongue moved down your throat, forcing you to throw your head back by the involuntary way your body reacted to him, topping it with a kiss on your chin.

He kept spreading with open-mouthed kisses over your torso, moving down to your cleavage and changing his position as he kissed the space in between your breasts. His knee was strategically positioned in between your legs, offering you something to rub yourself against when you couldn't take it anymore. San knew how sensitive your nipples were, and he wasn't surprised by the way your body squirmed with the soft kisses he laid on the two of them.

Just like he expected, your hips didn't take long to bounce against his leg, grinding against the fabric of his pants at the same time his tongue twirled around your hard button. When you looked down, you could only see the curtain his bangs had formed, and his nose peeking over them as it rubbed against your skin every time he went down to trap your nipple in between his lips.

Your clit throb every time his tongue moved over the tip, causing your hips to grind a bit harder against his leg. He was putting you in such a delicate state that you were sure you'd be able to cum by doing that only.

As he held you, San could sense it, too. Your muscles tensed with every move you made, your breathing was starting to be irregular and you were barely able to keep your hands still as the both of them gripped on his t-shirt.

A groan vibrated through your chest when he found your panties drenched in your arousal as he replaced his leg with his fingers, moving them in circles on your clit over your underwear. With every loud breath that hinted the start of those moans that always gifted his ears, a camouflaged moan came out, encouraging him to add his teeth every time he pulled from your nipple. That slightly mix of pain and pleasure stole the first moan of the night.

"Babe, I'm gonna cum" you warned him, feeling your pussy clenching around nothing as it desperately seeked for him.

Instead of getting him to stop and fuck you, San sneaked his hand inside your panties, earning a whine from you when his fingers met your swollen clit, keeping the same pace as he was following seconds back.

Your skin was burning with every move he made from one side to the other, and your jaw was clenched as you tried to keep those sounds to yourself. It was so impressive how he was always able to drive you insane like it was the first time and make your body melt in his embrace as he carried you through your orgasm.

He moved his hand away carefully, kneeling in front of you and causing the blankets to fall behind his body. How he moved in front of you caused you to support yourself on your elbows, getting a full vision of what he was going to do.

What you didn't know was that seeing you in that position was probably the most erotic image he could've ever thought of. His cock twitched inside his boxers, asking for that attention that he wouldn't give to it until he was done with you.

Your hips lifted at the same time his fingers hooked on the elastic of your panties, helping him take them off.

Just like San did with your upper body, he started a trail of kisses from your ankle to your knee. He gave you one fast look, giving you a smirk, as his lips moved past the joint. His kisses were so sweet and chaste, and his hands were holding you so attentively, that contrasted hardly with what was about to happen.

Your eyes never left him, as tortured as you felt when he kissed around your folds, as needy you felt when your hips instinctively lifted to his mouth. He had your full attention, and he loved being the focus of it.

"Hmm" you hummed, licking your lips he finally kissed you over your wet slit.

In an attempt to make him more comfortable, you widened the space in between your legs. And that also worked as a sign that you wanted more from him, that you craved way more than what he was offering you.

You could feel every single hair of your body rising when he slid the tip of his tongue from your entrance to your clit, getting a first taste of you. His tongue twirled around your clit, getting you ready, moving so slowly that you thought he was trying to torture you rather than prepare you.

Your fists closed, grabbing the sheets underneath you when his mouth pulled from your bundle of nerves, letting go of it with a loud sound before he took it back in between his lips again.

He always took his time whenever he went down on you, exploring every millimeter he hadn't explored, taking you to the edge and leaving you hanging for a bit more because he just loved when you surrendered to pleasure, enjoying each and every single one of your reactions as his tongue toyed with you. He was in love with how vocal you were, and how receptive you always showed yourself in front of him.

"You taste so good, babe" he mumbled, sinking his lips back in your slit.

His hands cupped your ass cheeks, lifting your hips and forcing your legs over his shoulders, caging his head in between them. Something shifted in his movements when he changed you to that position, and you could feel it on the way he held onto your flesh. He kept flicking his tongue on your clit, suddenly stopping to move his flat tongue over it. San repeated that same movement a few times, taking his time at first, and slowly moving his head up and down a bit faster, pressing a bit harder to get you to hold onto the sheets as if you'd escape your body at any given time.

His face moved lower on you, enough to be able to slide his tongue inside you, making your whole body wake up at the sudden invasion. At first he just slid it in and out, testing you and seeing your reflection, but soon it was as deep as it physically was able to, causing his nose to rub against your clit while he moved his face to the sides.

You reached to his hair, moving his bangs back, a bit too back to have a few locks falling back over his forehead and forcing you to pull them back again to be able to see his eyes as he ate you out, taking every drop of arousal that kept leaking from you because of him. His kitten gaze made such a huge contrast on what he was doing to you and how he was making you feel that you thought you'd be going crazy.

You were holding onto his locks as if your life depended on it, pushing his head a bit deeper into your core, feeling the friction of the tip of his nose against your clit got a bit more intense. You were losing yourself to him, and he loved watching you take everything he had to offer you, shameless to show off how good he was making you feel with those cracked moans that went straight to his cock.

The second orgasm didn't take much longer to fall upon you like a ray, going through your body from head to toe.

While you tried to recover from your high, San made his way up to your lips, kissing every bit of skin that was on the way until he was finally where he wanted to be. You could feel how big and thick he had become once he laid on top of you, lifting your hips to acknowledge the bulge before he kissed you with a smirk. You could your own taste mixed with his saliva as he twirled his tongue around yours, and just that sensory push was enough to feel your juices dripping down your core again.

"Does my girl want more?" he purred in between kisses.

"I always want more of you" you assured him, licking his lower lip. "Why don't you take it all off and fuck me like you're dying to do?".

He pecked the bridge of your nose, stepping out of the bed to get rid of all of his clothes, making your mouth water at the sight of his cock ready to split you open.

All those dirty thoughts were eclipsed by your clumsy boyfriend almost falling when he kicked the pants and his boxers away, before jumping back on the bed, making the whole mattress bounce with him.

"Desperate much?" you teased him back.

"Yes" he nodded, placing himself in between your legs. "So much I think I'm actually obsessed with you and how good you feel wrapped around me".

Your lip was trapped under your teeth, that tightened their pressure when San's tip pushed against your entrance to slowly slide inside with a gentle thrust. His fingers squeezed the skin behind your knees when he was completely in, trying to make sure you were okay. It was his way to tell you he was waiting for your approval to start moving.

Your hips lifted right after, giving him that sign he was waiting for. His thrusts started as slow and deep, letting you feel every inch spreading you out, every vein rubbing against your insides. He leaned over you, stealing a kiss from your lips, completely drunk by the way you took him in so easily.

"Move a bit faster, love" you asked

He changed the speed while resting his forehead on yours, almost drinking up all the quiet moans that left your lips and floated in between you.

You frowned when he moved back up again, only to change the position of your legs. He put them together, lifting them up to his shoulders before he slid back inside and moved back down to your face.

That new position made it impossible for you to control the loud moan that burned your throat as it escaped, feeling his tip hitting deeper with every thrust.

"Does it feel better this way?" he growled against your lips. "Fuck, I can feel how you squeeze me in so tight".

"Uh-hum" you whined. "You feel so big".

Your eyes rolled to the back when he changed the speed again, going a bit faster and making your skin clap with every thrust. The plead in them was driving him crazy, contacting with his most animalistic side as you begged for more.

"Sannie, babe..." you started mumbling after a few minutes, holding onto the wrists that were on both sides of your head. "I want to ride you".

His pounds lost power and speed, until he was completely still inside of you. He pulled out, letting go of your legs and moving back to lie next to you. With his help, you straddled his lap, placing your needs on each side of his hips.

One hand was positioned on your thigh, caressing your skin delicately, while the other was placed on your hip to help you move up before you started sliding down his cock.

It started at a normal pace, getting used to that new position and angle. Your hand rested on his lower belly, while the other reached for his arm for some stability. San needed more of it though, he needed to feel completely connected to you in every aspect. His arm moved under your grip, and next you knew his hand was holding yours tightly as you started bouncing on top of him.

Sense started to vanish as your whole body started moving. Having the curves of your body on full display, as you took control of his pleasure made him feel in a way he couldn't explain. Your tits bounced in sync with your movements, instantly making him aware of the thin coat of weat that started to cover you after a few minutes.

You got a short break after your legs started feeling sore, only rocking your hips back and forwards. It was a moment you both used to tease each other, linking your eyes and tempting with your smirks, proud that the other was just as lost in the feeling as the other.

The only moment you let go of his hand was to lean over him, targeting his lips for a long kiss that added passion to the sudden arrhythmic movements of your hips. You took him in completely again, gasping against his mouth while he moved your hair back to be able to look at your face. And you were thankful to him for doing that, because you loved seeing the way his face distorted when you moved back up, clenching your walls around his tip before you moved back down.

"Shit, babe. Do that again" he asked with a needy voice.

You repeated the same movement. You actually did it a few more times, while your tongue traced his marked jaw and your lips sucked on the freckles on his neck.

The teasing wasn't enough, you needed more. That was why you moved back up again, with both hands on his stomach while he held you tight by your thighs and hips. You started jumping on him, feeling his cock pull in and out with your moves, drunk by pleasure and addicted how you had that big man moaning and digging his nails on your flesh out of desperation.

"Please" he moaned out loud, and you didn't need him to say or do much more to know what he meant.

You didn't change the pace, you didn't change the angle or position. And although your legs were close to giving up, you still bounced like both of your lives depended on it. One stroke, two strokes... and he was gone. His cock twitched deep inside you as he spilled his warm seed with a loud moan.

Your movements didn't stop there though. You went back to the resting position, still feeling him hard deep in your guts, before you went back to bouncing back and forwards, but a lot faster that time and trying to be as glued to his body as possible. The room was soon filled with those wet noises that came from your pussy as you rocked your hips, mixed with the short but more frequent moans that escaped your lips by the friction of his cock on your walls and the feeling of his cum dripping down your cunt to his cock. San also helped you, positioning his hands firmly on your hips so you'd be able to get your clit to rub against his crotch and give you that little push you needed.

Your body collapsed on top of him as that last orgasm nearly ruined you. You stayed like that for a while, trying to recover as you caressed the other. San's fingers moved up and down your sweaty spine, while your tips traced his collarbone.

"Where did you learn to do that thing with your...?"

"Fanfics" you snorted.

"Hmm" he hummed, pretending he was thinking about it. "Maybe I should start reading them, what's your user?".

"Please don't" you giggled, suddenly lifting your head to look at him, moving your hands on each side of his head on the bed. "If you do start reading them, avoid mine".

Ever since he had known about that side of you, he had become more interested in knowing about it. And you wouldn't really mind... If you weren't deadly embarrassed over the idea of having your boyfriend reading about such detailed and weird ideas.

"You have no idea how lucky I feel to have you" he added with a more serious tone.

"I feel so lucky, too" your hands slowly moved over the pillow, until you were back at cupping his face. "Every single day. All the time. I'm thankful to be with you. And I'm not saying this because I was, and am, a fan..:"

"I know" he quickly nodded.

He remembered how nervous you actually were when you first told him about it, because you wanted him to know and choose whether to go on with the relationship. You understood he could've been creeped out over it, or even think that possibly what you felt wasn't genuine, but a cause of infatuation. But he knew it that same night. You took the time to spend quality time with him, to get to know him; and he was down bad for the beautiful person you were in and out.

Honestly, San even felt relief when you told him you were a fan and that he was your bias.

"You're really important to me" you squeezed his cheeks, making him smile at the moment.

"Let's go clean, shall we?" San suggested.

When he left the bathroom earlier after you cleaned, you thought he'd make his way to the bed. But when you stepped out, he wasn't there and neither were his clothes. Frowning, you put a pair of clean panties on and his hoodie back again.

As you stepped out of the room, you could see your boyfriend's smile in the dark, just to be lighted by the candle on the cake as soon as he was aware of your presence.

You stepped towards him as he sang the happy birthday song to you, moving the cake forward to your face as the song came to an end so you could blow the candles.

You didn't want that to ever end. That was your only wish.

"Grab a spoon. Let's eat some" he said, leaving the cake back on the table before he sat next to you.

It was a comfortable silence. The type of silence that made you sure you were with the right person. No pressure, no worries. It was just him and his company, and you thought that would be enough to solve all the problems that could come in your direction.

"Like I told you, they offered me the promotion" you suddenly said.

"Oh yes. What happened to that? What did your boss tell you?" his eyebrows lifted in surprise, while his lips curved up in excitement.

"He said I was the first person he thought of as soon as the opportunity showed up. And they gave me some time to think about my answer" you scooped your spoon in the cake to get another bite.

"Are you playing hard to get?" his tone sounded funny.

And it probably would've made you smile if you didn't know the reason why you agreed on thinking about it for a while.

"It's in the States".

You could feel his mood suddenly changing. That smile that you were able to feel disappeared, his leg stopped moving. He was completely freezed.

"Apparently they don't have vacancies in Seoul for the position I'd be promoted to, but they need someone to fill the vacancy in the headquarters in the US".

That knot in your throat showed up again, giving you a hard time not to start crying when you were aware of his concerned expression.

Earlier that evening, you were thankful San sent a text telling you he wouldn't make it to the dinner. You knew you wouldn't have been able to hide that for long, and it'd probably have ruined the mood he wanted to create for your birthday.

You were in a delicate situation. It didn't matter what you chose, neither of the options gave you the chance to stay in Seoul. If you rejected the offer, you'd only postpone moving out a few months, at least until your contract expired. And there was a small chance they'd renew it for the position you were doing then, and stay in Korea for a little longer. But also, if you took the offer, there was always the possibility to come back to that new position as soon as there was a vacancy.

Your head was back at the mess it was hours back.

"Can I give you my opinion?" he whispered.

You quickly nodded, just wanting to hug him and make the sadness that was coming out of his eyes disappear.

"You took the courses to form yourself for the position, you have the experience and the talent. You should take the offer".

Of course San said that. He had been the first one encouraging you to do what you wanted to do. He had also been your first support when you had breakdowns because you thought you were stagnant professionally wise.

He was your main supporter.

San's first thought, when you told him where the job was, was how he'd be able to survive having you so far away from him. His heart was starting to ache just with the idea. But of course he wouldn't ever show how hurt he could be about that, or how it affected him, because he didn't want to be the reason you gave up on something you worked so much for. He just couldn't show any hint of his pain, because he knew it'd affect your choice. The fact that you came up to him with the doubt, instead of coming with the decision, was enough evidence that his opinion was as important as yours on the matter.

"I don't want to be so far" your voice trembled with those final words.

San quickly dragged his chair closer to yours, wrapping his arms around you to hug you tight.

"I'll be with you wherever you are" he assured. "I promise there will be no difference. We'll have video calls every day, we'll text all the time. And I'll go to see you every time I have the chance. We will make it work".

It was such a bittersweet feeling. You were encouraged by his words, endeared by how he was willing to fight for your relationship even if you were away. But it was such an awful feeling that he had to say that because of something that involved you and that, at the same time, was out of your control. 

[armpirate]

Better than fiction | Choi San

Bf experience

pairing: Idol!Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 4.4k

Warnings: Smut, rough sex, oral sex (female and male receiving), masturbation (female receiving), protected sex, hair pulling, choking, dirty talk, dom!San x sub!reader. (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content).

Summary: You never thought what your boyfriend's reaction to you writing fanfic would be like, but you certainly didn't expect him to end up so jealous of himself to end up making your fantases come true

Aprox. time of reading: 19 minutes

MASTERLIST

Your blood stopped running for a few seconds. You could feel the way some parts of your body went numb, only keeping your attention on the live San started not that long ago, and that you decided to hear because his voice just had that calming effect on you. It didn't matter if it was through video call, audio messages, or those lives. You could hear him talking for hours and feel at ease all the time it lasted.

Except that day.

The way he made an understanding sound, followed by a scoff, that reached the deepest side of your brain, had you almost sitting at the edge of your bed, holding your phone with your two hands. The clicking sounds of his keyboard were the only thing that could be heard, while the chat went crazy, trying to distract him from his own curiosity.

There was a thick silence that made you aware of how hard you gulped, moving over the bed, feeling uncomfortable whatever the position it was.

"I see you, guys, are having fun" he teased with a honeyed voice.

That mocking tone, and the chuckle he let out after had you silently screaming, covering your mouth with the palm of your hand.

Even if he didn't know you were part of that small group of people that loved living in delululand, although you were already in your personal fanfic every day with him, you felt exposed, more like you'd never been before. It felt like you were caught doing something wrong, even if San wasn't speaking to you directly.

You didn't know how long you stayed in your bed, laying on your back as you stared at the ceiling. Only thing you were hoping for was that San didn't bring it up the next time you saw each other.

Basically because you were bad at lying, but San was also great at noticing when you lied to him.

You raised your phone to your face after feeling it buzz, biting your lip when you were aware of his name popping up at the top of your screen.

Sannie: Babe, did you watch the live? You didn't comment today...

You could imagine him pouting, with his lips pursed while he gave a lost kitten look to his screen. And he probably would've used his thinner voice if he had said that out loud directly to you.

Usually, you'd always leave a few comments. At first it started because you just liked teasing him, and seeing him getting nervous when your username showed up in the middle of the livestream. But it ended up being something he got used to, to the point of wondering if something happened to you if you didn't do it.

You: I did! But I was busy with work, so I just heard it while doing other things.

Sannie: Oh. Do you want me to go see you tomorrow better, then?

You: Nope, come here! You owe me a lot of cuddles

Sannie: I've only been away for a week...

You: Even a day is too much. Come here when you're done, pleaseeee.

San smiled when he looked at his screen, imagining your squared smile as you tried to convince him to go to your place for cuddles. Not like he needed much to be convinced, just the idea was convincing enough, but it was always cute to see him react like that -mainly because it was something you barely did.

"We're gonna order some food. Do you want anything?" Seonghwa's head peeked through his door.

San shook his head, not even trying to hide his playful smile as he got up from his chair "I'm going to Y/n's, so don't wait for me".

"Who's ever waited for you, any way?" Mingi teased, showing up in the corridor.

"I do" Seonghwa replied, looking back with an obvious expression.

Mingi rolled his eyes "He never leaves the house unless it's to see Y/n. And we know he never sleeps in when he goes to see her".

"Send a text when you get there" Seonghwa asked him, ignoring the boy behind him.

"And tell Y/n we said hi. You're gatekeeping her" Mingi complained, continuing his way to his room.

San simply smiled at that, pleased with the way all the members grew closer to you the longer your relationship went on. It always worried him that his friends and his significant other wouldn't get on well, but with you it was an automatic click.

Could be it was that you had that type of personality that molded into everyone else's easily, finding a bit of your humor and comfort in each one of the members. And while it sometimes made San jealous, deep inside he genuinely appreciated it.

You smiled widely when, after fifteen minutes, San knocked on your door with his arms opening big as soon as you stood in front of him. His arms wrapped around your waist, squeezing you to his body and lifting you a few centimeters in the air before he was moving you back inside, kicking the door with his foot to close it.

"Did you shower?" after digging your nose in his neck, you could recognize the floral scent of his gel, which you loved.

Whenever that smell got into your system, your first reaction was to snuggle to him and hide your face on his chest. It really seemed like he got ready for those cuddles that night.

Not leaving you on the floor, but making you stand on your tiptoes over his feet -only covered with his white socks-, he started walking through the short corridor. "Yup, we had a schedule today. And I didn't want to go around all sweated" he tilted his head. "By the way, the boys say hi".

"It's been a while since I last saw them" you sighed. "Are you gatekeeping them from me?".

San rolled his eyes at that question, confirming that, in fact, you did spend too much time with them all during that year and a half.

"No, I'm gatekeeping you from them" he replied, stealing a peck from you. "Now seriously, we could plan something for the next time you're free" he suggested, stopping in the middle of your living room.

"Sure" you nodded, tapping his biceps so he'd finally let you stand on the floor again. "I'll prepare some snacks, why don't you look for something to watch".

His hands carefully put you back on the floor, while his lips were together as he saw your body disappearing behind the white door to your kitchen. He groaned, slowly taking a seat on the couch, resting his head over the backrest for a few seconds.

When he looked to his left, he could see that small surprise you prepared for him two weeks back, unable to control his thoughts as he remembered the weekend you spent together, barely moving from that corner before he left for the festival.

It was the physical reminiscence of how lucky he was to have you.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, having him lifting his head to look at it for a quick second before he went back to the relaxed position.

Until it finally hit him. He forgot his back in the dorm, which meant Seonghwa would be ranting at him for not announcing he arrived well, and for being careless enough to leave the house without the cell.

"Love, can I send a message through your phone? I left mine at the dorm".

"Sure" you mentioned, still places all the gummies and the cookies on a plate. "No, wait-" it was the only thing you were able to say when realization hit you.

Although you ran as fast as you could, it was already too late. Peeking over San's shoulder, you could see that he wasn't in your chats, but scrolling down a really different page. His first idea was to send the text and move on, but the notification at the top caught his attention.

You never hid your fan side. He knew you were part of the fandom as soon as you started dating, even before, so it wasn't anything new for him to hear you using Twitter slang sometimes, and knowing about some things long before he did. But that day there was an app he didn't recognize, with an ask from an anonymous person seemingly freaking out after what happened in the livestream that took place some hours back.

Time to close it all now. San will expose us to the rest of the members and, like that one, several other posts.

"Give it to me" but San moved faster, getting up from the couch to move the phone away from you.

"San x Y/n?" he frowned, scrolling down your page through some of the most recent one-shots you had posted.

He looked over some of the details, smirking when he noticed you chose the pictures where he looked best to top the stories that would come under them.

"For your own sake, stop reading" you asked, finally snitching the phone from his hands and hiding it on your back.

"Since when do you write fanfics?".

"You mean about you, or in general?".

"There's been others?" his eyebrows raised, but you could tell by the way he was smiling that he was just mocking you for your reaction. "Why are you so embarrassed? It's probably cute".

"No, it's not" you assured, scoffing after that confirmation.

"What? You paint me like a douchebag or something? Are they sad stories?" his head tilted to the side, with his smirk slowly dropping at that idea.

"No, they're actually fun for the people that read them" you muttered.

"I won't judge you. Honestly, if this is important for you, I want to know what it is".

Ever since you started dating there was nothing that he liked more than learning things about you, and adding them to his life just to make you happy. If you liked a cake with a certain flavor, he'd always manage to have it for any celebration you two made. If you liked one song in particular, he'd learn it and sign it to you, or add it to his playlist so you'd listen to it when you're together. Every small detail counted for him, and whatever it was you were hiding on your back was no different from all those things.

"They aren't sad stories. Cute neither" you nervously stated.

"Horror stories, then?" he frowned.

You shook his head, handing the phone to him "They're... explicit" you summed up.

San looked confused when he took your phone, clicking over one of the short stories. Seeing the warning in red had him gulping thick "dom!San, choking, spitting, rough sex...", eyeing you up quickly before he looked down at your screen again.

It was weird to read about himself in that context, never thinking he'd end up doing it, and even less because it came from you. When he found out earlier that evening that fans were writing that type of content, he wasn't entirely surprised, but it didn't cross his mind the idea of you being part of that niche. However, there he was, supporting his weight on his lower back -which was laying against the backrest of the thick armchair in front of your couch- while he read through one of the stories.

His heart pumped against his chest, a bit harder with every line he read. Every description, every detail, everything was so realistic yet seemed so unreal at the same time. He could almost touch the sexual tension between the two characters, before the San of the fanfic forced the main character into a rough sloppy kiss that almost made his knees tremble.

He could feel your eyes on him. And the only thing he was hoping for is that it wasn't as evident how much he liked what he was reading, while he hawked when his throat went suddenly dry at the roughness that was represented in the fanfic.

"I can delete it all" you assured him. "I will..."

"Do you like this?" he interrupted you, finally lifting his gaze to yours. "Are you into being treated like that?".

"Well, I don't know" you hesitated, confused by his question. "It's just fiction" you shrugged, stepping towards him.

"No, Y/n. Be honest. Do you think our sex boring?".

Fiction sex was blatantly different from your real sex. On fiction sex you were able to dig on those kinks you didn't know you had, but that had your whole body burning just at the thought of doing them with San. While real sex was just you two, loving each other.

"What? No" you stepped towards him, cupping his face with your hands. "They're just dumb stories I write when I'm bored".

"Or when you're horny" he muttered.

"Look, they're just fantasies, that I didn't even try. I like the idea of them, because I think it'd be hot, but that's it"

"Why didn't you tell me you liked that?"

"Because I don't want you to feel uncomfortable with it".

Despite his looks, San was the most gentle and careful person you had ever met. He'd stop the whole thing if something that he thought would hurt you or bother you happened, and you appreciated that. You loved the way he looked after you in every single aspect of your relationship. That was why you never mentioned the idea of having him spanking you, and even less choking you through sex. It'd be crossing a limit for him, and just like San took care of you when you had sex, you wanted to take care of him.

"So you do want to try it?" he asked, lifting one of his eyebrows.

After licking your lips, and softly pressing them, you ended up nodding shyly, lowering your gaze to your feet.

Something about that story didn't allow him to think straight. Maybe it was the way he could imagine you squirming and twisting with pleasure, or how loud and desperate your moans would sound -when usually they were little whispers you gifted to his ear. Or could be it was the slightest glimpse of jealousy he felt over the San in the fan fiction, who was able to pleasure his girlfriend better than he did.

He didn't give you time to react, holding your wrist before he dragged you to your bedroom. You had no time to process anything that was happening, before he made you turn on your feet and make your lips collide. San was demanding, moving your lips over yours, not giving you any other choice than trying to keep up with his pace as he held your neck with his two hands, slightly letting his fingertips dent on your skin.

A moan burned your throat when his tongue sneakily moved between your lips, meeting yours for a brief second before he was dominating the way they twirled, having your core begging for him in a matter of seconds.

He left you hanging in the middle of a fast breath, turning you around so your back was stuck to his hard chest. His hands traced the curve of your waist, with your knees trembling at the soft touch as his fingers kept moving up, taking with them the thin fabric of your old t-shirt. Once the piece of clothing was gone, his palms covered your exposed breasts, making your back arch almost perfectly.

There was something so strange at being controlled that way, or feeling like you didn't have to worry about anything because San knew perfectly what to do. And you loved it. You could feel the pool in your panties as time went by slowly, and the way your heart raced in your chest when his fingers pinched your nipples before he went back to pressing your tits with his palms.

"Did you ever touch yourself thinking about this, hmm?" his voice sounded unrecognizable. It was harsh and raspy, making its way to your guts and clicking to one part of your brain that almost made you moan the answer.

San didn't know if he wanted to know. He could understand you touching yourself because he was away, but because he wasn't pleasuring you like he should? He couldn't deal with that.

He didn't let you answer. As he saw the way you gulped and took a deep breath to let him know, his hand flew to your covered pussy, sliding his fingers over it until it was completely covered by his palm.

You desperately seeked for his lips, this time starting the sloppy kiss. Trying to keep your balance while standing on your tiptoes, while your head went in circles was suddenly the most difficult task.

Although you knew San had you.

He grinded against you, letting you feel his growing bulge against your ass while his hand slipped inside your panties. He wasn't able to hold back the moan when your wetness coated his fingers as soon as he slid them through your slit, just being able to think of how good his cock would slip in and out of you with barely any effort.

"Can you feel how hard you made me, babe?" the circles on your clit were barely leaving any room for your brain cells to work properly, although you were still able to pick up some of the things he said. "Time for you to do something about it, right?"

Your hips collided against the headboard with every deep thrust he made, making you feel completely trapped between the wall and his body, thinking that probably your pain senses were too fucked by pleasure to be able to feel hurt at the way it kept bouncing against the hard surface.

San enrolled his fingers on your jaw, moving your head up slightly to give your back the perfect curvature, so your pubic bone would come up against the bottom of his cock and giving his thrusts the perfect angle so his tip would end up rubbing against that spot that had you whimpering and grinding against him in a matter of seconds.

"All this time wanting to try this, and you're barely able to take it" he groaned, with a shaky voice due to the power of each one of his movements.

All the times you thought of being in that situation, San was harsh, he was animalistic, just like he was being in that moment. But you didn't count with the extra threat that were his hips. You should've known better than pushing a dancer, mastered in body rolls and hip thrusts, to his limits. He found the best position for him, having you completely caged so his only worry would be pounding in and out of you, concentrating on the killing move of his hips, letting you feel all of him inside of you, but also making your skin clap every time.

You scratched your thighs, having nothing else to your reach as your head was held up "Please" you moaned. You don't know what you were begging for. Pleasure just felt a little bit too much to contain it for any longer, you just wanted it to blow and have it leaving your system.

"Please what?" San forced your body a bit higher, sinking his teeth on your collarbone. "Use full sentences, babe".

"Please, don't stop" you begged, your voice cracked in need.

He wasn't going to stop. And even less after seeing you like that. There was nothing that could make him prouder than seeing you being a mumbling mess for his cock, sure that he was closer to losing himself completely to his most basic instincts just to have you looking like that for the rest of the night.

The echo of the slap made you squirm rather than the itch that his palm left after it, making your pussy instantly clench around him, with your walls closing tight around him as if you didn't want him to leave you empty ever again.

"You take me so fucking good" he hoarsed, circling your swollen clit with two of his fingers.

With his eyes fixed on you the whole time, he was able to tell the exact moment you were going to cum. He saw that spark in your eyes, momentary and fast, but strong enough for him to see it before your eyes went blank with a long moan, that sounded in sync with the way your legs trembled and your body convulsed on his.

He wanted to drink the last drop of your high, moving your neck so your face would be towards him, taking your lips in his with freedom while you blindly followed his moves, weakly sucking on his lower lip.

At that point you could only feel the way San moved on the mattress, dragging your body along with his until the two of you were kneeling in the middle of the bed. Although he tried to let go of that caring side to please you, you could sense it was still there, taking over him for a brief moment as he made you roll on the bed and lie on your back, carefully to not hurt you, and making sure at all times that you were okay.

One of his hands rested on your stomach, caressing the spot between your belly button and your pubes as he waited for you to recover. When you looked up to him, you felt so small... San was big, but that night he felt twice his size. The way he looked at you, brushing his hair back to expose some of the sweat drops that stopped right on his eyebrows, giving you what you had named as his "stage gaze" had your pussy throbbing again.

Your body squirmed when he leaned over, moving his tongue over your clit to steal a whine from you before he sucked on the bundle of nerves.

He swore one day he'd be completely addicted to your taste.

San slipped his full length back again, only warning you with his tip pressing on your entrance before he was stretching you out in that new position. He was completely lost in the way you looked, eyebrows slightly furrowed, lips parted as you weren't able to breath through your nose anymore, and tits bouncing with every thrust he made. Only to go feral when he lowered his eyes a bit more to find his cock covered in your arousal whenever he moved it out, hiding himself in your walls not even a mini second after. Whole shaft was shiny with your juices, with some white thicker cream on the base.

"The mess you made on my cock..." he scoffed, squeezing your flesh. "My girl does love to be treated like a hole meant to be used by me only, hmm?".

At the lack of response from you, other than the way your fists closed on the sheets and some of the whimpers you tried to keep hidden in your mouth by pressing your lips together, San moved his fingers around your throat again. His digits' pressure on your skin tightened with every thrust, giving you one thin line that allowed air to make it to your lungs. His left hand kept you glued to the bed, that squeaked under you a little bit louder as time went by, while his other hand hooked around your knee, keeping it as high and spread as possible.

The eye contact, the grunts, and his cock rubbing deliciously on your walls... All of it was the perfect mix for a ticking bomb in your guts that started a countdown to wipe everything out.

"Are you going to cum again for me?" he teased, recognizing that spark in your eyes again. "Let go, babe. Cum around me".

He combined those words with the twirls the fingers on his right hand were doing on your clit, feeling it throb on his digits before you reached your orgasm with a loud moan, arching your back in a way he thought it would break.

"Come here and make me cum now, love"

You crawled on the mattress to where he was, smirking at him as you took the condom off. He growled over you when your lips wrapped around him, barely giving him any time to get used to the subtle breeze in your room before he was feeling warm again. Your head bombed fast, eager to feel the way his cock twitched against your tongue when you least expected, while your hand matched the movements of your mouth.

San guided the way your head moved, with his fingers grasping on some of the lock of your head to move you a bit faster, while his hips just buckled against your mouth. He just needed one last flick of your tongue on one of his veins, and he was already spilling his seed in your mouth with a deep moan.

You still licked him off for a bit more, cleaning him completely, until there was no trace of everything you had done.

"Spit it here" he hollowed his hand at the height of your lips.

You bit your lower lip, moving your body to be on the same height as he was and confront that confused expression he was giving you.

"I swallowed it" the pride and playfulness in your voice made him smile, and break character almost instantly.

He moved right after you did, placing his hands on your hips while your arms wrapped around his neck.

"Was it better than fiction?" his head tilted as he asked that question.

"It was better than fiction" you admitted, playing with the sweaty locks on his nape. "Did you like it, too?".

San nodded, curving his lips slightly "More than expected, actually".

Before you could smile widely in relief, your boyfriend leaned over to kiss you, gently and caring, moving his lips sweetly over yours to get rid of any drop of his saltiness. "Let's clean ourselves, and let me give you those cuddles you were asking for earlier, alright?".

San helped you move out of bed first, holding your hand carefully so you wouldn't fall, joining in front of you right after. He stopped midway, having you looking at him confused. "Let me tell Seonghwa I arrived well. I forgot to send him the text".

"Go, I'll wait for you in the shower"

As he stepped away from you and turned around, you couldn't help yourself. Your palm smacked against his ass, having him turning at you surprised, giving you an eye smile before he shook his head and made his way to the living room.

It was a good thing he found out about fanfiction after all.

[armpirate]

Wander through my body || San

Boyfriend exp.

pairing: Idol!Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 4k

Warnings: Smut, vanilla sex, oral sex (female and male receiving), masturbation (female receiving), unprotected sex (not you, wrap it up, folks). If you're a minor, refrain from reading it. Also, if you don't like this content, just keep scrolling.

Summary: Your boyfriend has been having a hard time, after he was forced to cancel a trip you were excited about. Even if you have told him everything is okay, he's still stuck on the idea that you're mad about it, so you come up with the idea of showing him how you're okay through actions rather than words.

Aprox. time of reading: 17 minutes

MASTERLIST

The huge teddy bear rested over the right side of your couch, after you placed it there. You weren't convinced of leaving it there, but it wasn't like you had many other free spots to leave something that was as big as you. Your boyfriend did mean it when he said he'd try to make it up to you, although you didn't expect that would mean seeing your small studio filled with heart-shaped balloons, cuddly teddy bears, and giant tulip buckets.

Earlier that day, he had called you to brag about all the gifts he prepared, including your favorite flower in different bright colors -that, surprisingly, fitted with the aesthetic of your apartment perfectly.

You couldn't say you were widely surprised though. Since you two started dating, San had always been the perfect boyfriend. He loved romance as much as he loved you, and showing his affection by using it was one of his best skills.

A walk next to the Han River in the night while holding hands, or sitting next to your window to see the snow falling down in front of you as you were cuddled next to each other, covered with a soft blanket... Those were the type of things he made you used to. And you loved it each time, because you treasured the efforts he made to see you, although his schedule was too tight.

His idol life was crazy, and you knew it before you started dating each other, when you met at Kangdae's, one of your friends in common, birthday party. San caught your eye immediately. Not only was he dangerously attractive, but his personality trapped you in the moment -and you were afraid you would never escape it. And he felt the same way, although -unlike you- he tried to tear down the walls that you kept building up, until you were completely defenseless to his charm.

One year later, you couldn't be more glad of avoiding everything that could've kept you away from him.

It was difficult at times, but you always managed to make it work.

Barely having time to see each other, the sometimes forced long-distance relationship, having to date in the dark, last-minute canceled dates because rehearsal took longer than he expected... And that week it was the cancellation of a week-long trip you both had been talking about for weeks, their tour would be finished and also neither of your coworkers asked for days off during that period of time -which allowed you to have that freedom to choose.

You already made sure to have that week off from work, when San assured you there would be no problem since there was nothing scheduled for those dates. Although thankfully you didn't buy the tickets nor booked the hotel. Just when you called him for it, the tone of his voice warned you that the next thing that would come out of his lips was something you wouldn't like.

It upsetted you, because you were already acting as if that trip was happening without a problem. But the guilty tone in your boyfriend's voice hurted you more. It was something out of his control. It wasn't like he had any type of control over his team, and the way they dealt with contracts for the group. He was already seeing himself packing his bags in a few months to go with you to Bali after you confirmed you were allowed to have that week off, until he stepped inside his company with the news that Ateez was going to be participating in a festival in Japan that same weekend -which meant he'd be required to rehearse for it. Ever since that happened, he had always been looking after you, calling you several times a day -even if he was using those tiny breaks to eat, even if that meant he stayed up at night -because he was on the other side of the world-, and sending several gifts to your place -where you didn't have any space left for more.

He didn't need to make up for anything, yet he made sure he did.

The emotional responsibility he showed, every single time he thought you were disappointed, was something you hadn't seen in any of your exes before -not even in most of your friends. It was definitely one of the things that you treasured with dear life, and that encouraged you to treat him better every day.

That week you barely had time to text back, or see him whenever he invited you over to the dorm when Mingi and Seonghwa weren't around, and the day he opted to show up at your place, he found the door closing up in his nose, with your eyes widening in surprise when you saw him.

San had never seen you reacting that way when he showed up, and that added to how distant you seemed that week, made him worry. His knocks on the door were gentle, yet insistent, while his voice called your name with an inquiring tone that made you struggle with the way your living room looked.

Ever since he came back from tour, everything seemed fine. You both went back to those late night dates, filled with cuddles that made him never want to leave your side, your random visits to the company... He didn't exaggerate when he thought that he saw you just as much as he saw the members -and he spent almost all day with them. But everything went off a few days back. All of a sudden, you stopped visiting him and seemed conflicted if he showed up to pick you up at work instead. It seemed like he was still on tour by the way you restricted your relationship to texts and calls.

At first, San thought that maybe work was busier than usual that week. But the worst side of his brain couldn't stop wondering whether you could've met someone else or not, or whether you started needing some space after dating for so long. Or if he did something to make you act that way. And it was then when he realized: you were supposed to be on that trip for two days already, yet there you were at home.

Meanwhile, you were inside, trying to choose whether to let him ruin your surprise or knowingly hurt him and give him a hard time to protect it. Work had been a mess, but trying to prepare the way your living room looked, along with all the small details you had to pay attention to, barely gave you time to breathe. If you finished your shift at six, at one past six you were going from one shop to the other to get everything you needed before he left for Japan. And you spent the whole previous day building the "stage" in your free corner of your living room, just to make sure it'd look fine before the day of the surprise came.

"Give me one minute" you screamed.

You weren't going to ruin your surprise. You were just going to give it to him earlier than planned.

Double checking the comfort space, you sighed and walked to the door. That wasn't the way you imagined that day, although you still didn't know if that was for good or bad.

His eyebrows were slightly furrowed at the top of his nose, and his eyes seemed bigger by the way confusion invaded them, by the way he was unable to read the expression on your face.

"What are you doing here?" you first asked, moving to the side so he'd be able to step inside.

"We've barely seen each other this week, and I missed you" San admitted, taking off his shoes before he turned back to you. "I know you're still mad, but...".

You were the one frowning as soon as he started speaking "Mad? About what?".

"I know it's not easy, and I know you were looking forward to that trip, but I promise I'll make it up to you".

Your hands rested on your hips as you heard what got him so worried to go to your apartment that late, out of nowhere. While you completely moved on from that topic days after it happened, he was still stuck there and the disappointment he thought it made you feel after months. If you were doubting on giving him his surprise in a few days, that was the sign that he needed to see why you were actually distant for that week.

Just clicking your tongue, and quickly twisting your neck, you took a step in his direction, reaching for his wrist to drag him inside your studio.

He was confused by the way you pulled him deeper in your house, walking behind you. As he followed you, there was a sound of waves that kept sounding louder with every step you two took, but he didn't pay much attention to it, it was the least of his worries at that moment. It all seemed like always when you two reached the entrance to your living room, except for the few plushies that he sent, that were decorating the shelves. Until his eyes fell over the corner in the living room that was empty. There was a huge beach poster, and the sand at the bottom of it was followed by a wide carpet with a print in a similar tone. Over it, a tiny table that had nothing on it, except for two empty glasses with two pink small paper parasols.

"Crafts were never my thing, so I'll say it for you: it looks a bit lame. But it's still unfinished., I didn't even prepare the drinks to make it spot on" you tried to justify yourself. "I know how bad you felt, and still feel, about that trip. And I tried to make this to make you feel better about it, but the only conclusion you could reach with this is never leaving me in charge of building anything".

The warm hug San trapped you in contrasted with your light jokes about the build up of your surprise. His face was hidden on the curve of your neck, feeling his nose and his lips pressed against your oversized t-shirt, while his arms surrounded your body, one hand cupping your head against his chest while the other pulled you in tighter by your waist.

"No, princess. It's perfect" he assured, with his face sinking deeper on your body -as if that were possible.

Finally smiling, your arms changed places. You wrapped his neck, standing on your tiptoes to be able to land a sweet kiss on his neck, while his arms hugged you tight from your waist.

"You don't need to make up for anything, babe" your fingers tangled on his locks, caressing the back of his head. "You never had to".

You squeezed his cheeks, lightly moving back to be able to look into his eyes during your embrace. His smile was so wide, despite not showing his teeth, that his eyes looked completely squinted.

"At first I thought you were planning on breaking up with me" he mentioned with a pout.

"Oh, you aren't getting rid of me so easily" you joked, pulling in for a peck on his lips.

The shape of his mouth slowly changed, going from the pout to fully adapt to the way your lips moved on his. His fingers pressed on a particular spot, between the curve of your waist and your spine that made you gasp, hugging tighter onto him as you smiled during the kiss. The tip of his tongue peeked through his lips as he smirked, guiding yours lips to his with the hand on your nape.

You had been dating for so long, but everytime his tongue rubbed against yours had the same effect on you. A wave of electricity ran through your body, feeling something waking up every time he flicked it against yours. Your knees went momentarily weak, forcing you to close your fist tight on the fabric of his black t-shirt.

San broke the kiss first, rubbing his nose on yours, before he said "I didn't bring a swimsuit".

That comment made you giggle, moving your face away to look back on him. You tried to seem serious, but you couldn't hold back the smile on your face when you were aware of the way his eyebrow kept rising.

"Lucky you, you don't need that on this beach".

You both mirrored each other's expression, mocking the way your eyebrows raised in a flirty way, while you two were dying to burst out laughing before you kissed again. San guided your steps until you were stepping on the carpet, breaking the kiss again to take his socks off and leave a short kiss on your belly before he was back on kissing you, joining you over the fake sand.

Being first to take off his clothes, he threw his t-shirt away, gluing your body to his while his hands moved down your oversized t-shirt to lift it up slowly. At the same time his hands moved up over the curve of your back, his lips traced a trail of open mouthed kisses that went from your chin to the line of your jaw, that he followed as if it was a path until he reached your earlobe. Once he sucked on that sensitive spot, you knew it was over for you. A heavy gasp fell from your lips, followed by your head tilting to the side, while you were only able to move your fingertips across his collarbones to reach his shoulders.

His skin was burning under your touch, making you the only one to blame for the way he was feeling.

Soon after, your t-shirt was flying across the room, having San's chest sinking and his growing bulge twitching when he saw you had no bra on. He pulled you close again, trapping your hips in his hands and catching one of your hard nipples in his lips. The moves of his tongue and mouth were slow on you, twirling and sucking on the hard button carefully, showing his devotion the best way he could while you cupped his head in your hands. With the change of one nipple to the other, a small one escaped your lips, along with your hips moving forward to his, rubbing your lower belly against his dick.

San moved down on you, keeping a route of wet kisses through your belly, until he stopped on the edge of your shorts. With his eyes closed, and still kissing the invisible line that separated your naked skin from your clothes, he got rid of the last pieces of fabric left on your body. He went lower, ghosting his lips over the place where your slit started, making your clit throb at the feeling of his warmth breathing over you.

"Lift your leg, princess" he asked, opening his hand in front of you.

Supporting yourself on his shoulder, you raised your leg, resting the back of your knee on his palm, which he moved higher to your thigh to raise your leg a bit more. The air seemed to get thicker with every small move of his tongue on you, making you eager to feel his tongue doing more than just soft kitten licks over your clit and teasing your entrance. His other hand was secured around your forearm, assuring you he had you even if you lost balance. It was something that was bound to happen when his lips enclosed around your bundle of nerves, pulling from it while his tongue drew small circles on it.

San kept testing you, changing his moves, changing the speed -going from fast to slow in a way that caused a short circuit in your brain-, going from your clit to your entrance to ignore both and shower with kids your inner thigh. And when he heard the first moan, it was over for you. Once that sound joined the sound of waves coming out of your small speaker, San sank his face deeper in your core, flicking his tongue a few more times until he moved back to look up at you.

Standing up, he was again towering over you, linking your lips on a messier kiss, that made you aware of the mix of his spit and your own taste on his tongue. He saw your intentions when you broke the kiss again, letting go of his lips with a loud sound before you sank to your knees. Although he stopped before you were able to. Reaching to the first thing to his reach, he handed you one of the plushies he had gifted you.

"Put it under your knees. It won't hurt you like that" he excused himself.

His gesture made you smile through all the lust mist in the air, reminding you that man was always looking after you, even if his brain wasn't completely conscious.

You undid his belt and unzipped his pants, eager to pull them down and see him completely naked. You both have had sex several times, but it always felt like the first time. There was always that nervousness to seeing him naked for the first time -even if it vanished quite fast.

His hand cupped your cheek when the tip of your tongue flicked around his tip, rubbing his thumb on your skin. The way his finger moved sometimes stopped, because he was way too focused on how warm your tongue and lips felt as you licked and teased his shaft, until he was aware and he went back to caressing you to let you know everything was fine.

Spitting a bit on his tip, you moved your hand softly, spreading the wetness all over his dick before you finally wrapped your lips around his tip. A soft groan was heart over you, a hint of what you were provoking on his body with just a few moves, and that went straight to your core. You kept moving down, taking him slowly, inch by inch, until you reached that point where you'd almost gag and that'd make you move back up slowly. You bobbed your head over his cock, with a steady yet slow pace, joining your hands to the way your lips were taking him in so good it felt like heaven for him.

His eyes were always closed when you looked up at him, with his head thrown back, while his lips were parted, sometimes mumbling praises, but other times just gasping and moaning with every move you made. And it was like that that day. He reassured you through the touch of his fingertips on your cheek, feeling how you sucked in every time you moved back to the tip and feeling it get thicker under his palm every time you took him in.

You were indeed heaven for him.

"Babe, stop" he stopped you, gulping thick when you reached his tip again. "Let me make love to you".

You cleaned the corners of your mouth and threw the teddy bear away, before he kneeled with you. His kisses were soft and sweet, but something on them that day made them feel way more tender. As if he was indeed treasuring that moment to the depths of his heart because he didn't want to forget it, sucking onto your lips so deeply every time your heads rolled that you thought you'd end up dizzy from it.

Through kisses and hidden touches, he helped you lay on your back at the same time he lied on top of you, molding himself to the spot in between your legs. Your hips instantly lifted to his touch, feeling that throbbing sensation again when he rubbed your clit a few times, moving lower through your folds until he reached your entrance. The moan you let out when two of his fingers slipped in you broke the kiss, but he just stayed there, admiring every millimeter of your face, knowing he was the only one you reached that way for. You wrapped around him tight, making him groan when he felt your walls enclosing around his digits as perfectly as he remembered.

"Does it feel good?" he asked, rubbing his nose on yours.

"Yes" you moaned, rocking your hips subtly against his hand.

A few seconds later, you were feeling empty again, when he pulled his fingers out to rub the tip of his dick through your folds to lube himself with your arousal, ghosting over your entrance every time he moved down. With one last annoyed gasp from you, San smirked, finally lining his length to thrust inside of you slowly.

Once he made sure it was fully in, he showered your neck and face with kisses, thrusting his hips back and forth slowly, feeling your walls taking him in like he belonged there.

San always worshiped your body through sex, moving his hands over your curves, letting his fingers wander through your body as if it was his most desired destination. He always gave the best balance between love and sex, rolling his hips for the best angle, while he whispered sweet things into your ear or spread soft kisses over your shoulder.

Sex between you two was always a full on representation of intimacy on all the possible levels. It wasn't only how you became one whenever he pounded into you, but also the nakedness of looking into each other's eyes, the romance of every little touch to encourage the other, and the passion of being vocal through moans and some mumbled words that made no sense.

He rested his forehead on yours, moving one hand to your hip while the other played with your hair. Your hips lifted after the first friction of his pelvis on your clit, looking for that same friction with every thrust he made. And San was aware, rolling his hips in a way that made that friction hold onto his arms and wrap your legs tighter around his hips.

"You feel so good, love" you moaned against his lips, moving your mouth down to bite his chin and kiss his skin.

"Does it feel good, hmm?" he asked with a raspy voice. "You wrap around me so well".

"Go a bit faster, babe" that whine went along a tight clench around his dick, that made him aware of how you were feeling almost instantly.

His thrusts were a bit faster, and deeper, just like you asked for it, making you hold onto his forearm and shoulder before he sunk his head on the curve of your neck. Your skin clapped with every thrust, just adding that intensity you both needed to push you closer to the edge. You felt the way his muscles contracted against your body with every move of his hips, while his gaps kept turning to high-pitched moans in your ear as he ran after his release. The synergy of all those sounds only worked as the last drop before everything overflowed.

Your back arched as you hugged him tight throughout your prolonged moan that announced your orgasm smacking into your system, while San sank his nails on your flesh and bit on your shoulder to drown his moan on your skin as he spilled inside of you.

You stayed like that for a few minutes, helping each other to calm down through touches and gentle kisses on the other's skin, thinking of getting some oxygen back before you looked into each other again.

"You liked the surprise?" your breathing was shaky as you spoke.

With a smirk, San nodded "You make me feel so lucky to have you".

You pouted to his words, tilting your head a bit, before you pulled him in for another kiss.

Maybe you'd keep that corner for a few more days until he left for Japan...

[armpirate]

As asked by a previous anon, here comes a prequel for "The Vows Between Us"

The first time San saw you, he almost laughed at the absurdity of it.

He had never believed in ridiculous notions like love at first sight -he thought it was something weak men used to justify their own helplessness. But then, there you were, sitting across from him in that cold, gleaming boardroom, utterly unaware of the fact that you had just altered the course of his life.

Your father was speaking, something about a potential partnership between their companies, a proposal San was meant to be listening to. But all he could focus on was you.

The meeting had already dragged on for nearly an hour, and San was growing increasingly bored.

The conversation between your father and his droned on, all business: market expansions, joint investments, potential collaborations. Important things, sure, but nothing that actually required his attention.

Until you spoke.

“If the goal is market expansion, then why are we targeting stagnant demographics?”

Your voice was sharp, confident, unimpressed. You weren’t asking -you were challenging.

San turned his head, finally giving you his full attention.

You met his gaze without hesitation. Unlike every other business heir, socialite, or investor’s daughter he had encountered, you didn’t look at him with admiration or curiosity. No nervous fidgeting, no unnecessary deference.

If anything, you looked bored.

His lips curled.

“Well, that’s simple,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “We’re not just targeting them. We’re dominating them".

Your eyebrow lifted just slightly. “Dominating stagnation? Sounds groundbreaking".

His smirk widened. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“Tell me, sweetheart…”

“I’d really rather you didn’t".

San chuckled, enjoying this more than he should. “Alright. Tell me,” he corrected smoothly, “how would you handle market expansion? Since you seem to think you know better".

“I don’t think I know better,” you replied, tilting your head. “I just know bullshit when I hear it".

Silence.

Across the table, the older businessmen shifted uncomfortably, but San was unfazed. If anything, he was even more intrigued.

“You have a sharp tongue,” he mused, tapping a finger against his chin. “I like that".

You sighed, glancing at your father. “Is this meeting actually important, or are we just watching him flirt with himself in real time?”

San’s grin didn’t falter, but something in his eyes sharpened.

Interesting.

Very, very interesting.

He leaned in slightly, voice dropping low. “You know, you might be the first person in this room who doesn’t find me charming".

You exhaled through your nose. “Oh, no. You’re charming".

San raised a brow.

“You’re just predictable".

He wasn’t expecting that.

For the first time, he found himself at a loss for words -not because he was offended, but because he realized something dangerous.

You saw right through him.

And worse?

You didn’t care.

The meeting continued without interruption, but for San, nothing else mattered.

Because in the span of a few minutes, you had done what no one else had: you had challenged him.

And now, all he wanted to do was win.

You were poised, your chin lifted in quiet confidence, your eyes sharp and knowing as they flickered toward him. There was no softness in the way you carried yourself, none of the artificial charm he was so used to seeing at these business meetings. You weren't trying to impress him. You weren't trying to impress anyone.

And that was what ruined him.

Because San was used to people who fawned over him, who schemed for his attention, who saw him as nothing more than the heir to one of the most powerful companies in Berlin. But you? You barely spared him a glance.

When you did finally acknowledge him, it was with the barest arch of your brow. A silent, unimpressed challenge.

And that was the moment San knew -he had to have you.

Not in the careless, fleeting way he had pursued others. No, this was different. It wasn't just attraction, it wasn't just interest. It was something more vicious, something deeper.

He wanted to unravel you. To break through whatever guarded walls you had built around yourself. To make you see him the way he saw you.

And so, for the first time in his life, San felt something unfamiliar coil in his chest. A slow-burning obsession.

It didn't matter how long it took. It didn't matter what he had to do.

San should have forgotten about you. He should've focused on the meeting instead of losing himself in you. 

That's what he told himself as the meeting dragged on, as your father and his spoke of numbers and contracts, as the city lights gleamed beyond the glass walls of the boardroom. He should have been focused on the conversation, on the future of his company.

Instead, his thoughts revolved around you.

You weren't like the women who threw themselves at him at every social event. You weren't like the business elites who treated him as nothing more than an advantageous last name. You were untouched by the expectations of his world.

And that fascinated him.

By the time the meeting ended, San had made a silent decision. He was going to figure you out.

As you gathered your papers and stood to leave, he expected you to at least spare him a few words -some polite farewell, an acknowledgment of his presence. Instead, you turned without a second glance, walking toward the door like he was nothing more than another suit in the room.

San clenched his jaw, watching you go.

This was new.

This was infuriating.

And yet, it only made his resolve grow stronger.

The next time he saw you was at a gala a few weeks later. He hadn't expected you to be there, but as soon as he spotted you across the ballroom, dressed in black with a glass of champagne in hand, he felt something coil deep in his stomach.

San spotted you before you saw him.

Amidst the glittering chandeliers and the symphony of polite conversation, you stood out effortlessly. Clad in an elegant, form-fitting gown that demanded attention without seeking it, you exuded a quiet confidence that made people look.

And San?

He stared.

He should have expected you to be here -these events were your world as much as his. But he hadn’t expected the immediate pull he felt, the way his pulse quickened at the mere sight of you.

Then, as if sensing his gaze, you turned your head, locking eyes with him across the room.

Instead of looking away like most would under his scrutiny, your lips curved into a small, knowing smirk.

Oh, you knew exactly what you were doing.

San exhaled through his nose, amused, intrigued, and -above all- determined.

So, with a glass of whiskey in hand, he made his way toward you.

"Didn’t take you for the type to enjoy these events," he mused as he approached, his voice rich with amusement.

You took a sip of your drink before responding. "And I didn’t take you for the type to enjoy getting rejected. Yet here you are".

San chuckled, unbothered, slipping into the space beside you. “Who said anything about rejection?”

“I did,” you said smoothly, eyes flickering to him before returning to the crowd. “The moment you decided to walk over here thinking you had a chance".

San smirked, tilting his head. “You wound me, sweetheart".

“Again,” you sighed, “really rather you didn’t".

He exhaled a quiet laugh, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “You have a habit of underestimating me".

"And you have a habit of overestimating yourself," you quipped, finally turning to him fully.

Up close, you were even more breathtaking. Your confidence radiated off you, a natural magnetism that pulled him in despite your sharp words.

But what fascinated San the most?

The flicker of something else in your expression.

A tease. A challenge.

A game.

So, he decided to play.

"Alright then," he murmured, stepping just a fraction closer. "If I’m such a lost cause, why are you still talking to me?"

You tilted your head, considering. “Maybe I like watching you lose".

San grinned, slow and dangerous. “Or maybe,” he countered, voice dropping just enough to be intimate, “you’re just waiting for me to win".

Your lips parted slightly, and for a split second -just a split second- he saw hesitation.

Then, you smirked.

“Keep dreaming, Mr. Choi,” you whispered, before gracefully stepping away, leaving him standing there with the taste of your challenge lingering in the air.

San exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he watched you disappear into the crowd.

You were going to be the death of him.

He turned one second, and when he had his eyes back on you, you were already laughing at something someone had said, but it wasn't the soft, practiced kind of laughter he was used to hearing in this world -it was genuine. Real.

And it wasn't meant for him.

For the first time in his life, San experienced something dangerously close to jealousy.

His fingers tightened around his own glass as he watched you interact with another man, someone he didn't know, someone who was making you smile.

It should have been him.

So he made sure it was.

It started with small things. Casual run-ins at social events, arranging meetings between your companies just to have an excuse to see you, lingering just a little too long in your presence. He watched, observed, learned.

You were difficult. Stubborn.

But San had never been the type to back down from a challenge.

Later that night, San leaned against the bar, swirling the last of his whiskey in his glass, but his focus wasn’t on the drink -it was on you.

You were smiling, chatting, effortlessly blending into the crowd with that natural charm of yours. But San could see the subtle signs most people would miss. The slightly unfocused gaze, the way your fingers wrapped a little too tightly around your glass, the slight delay in your movements.

You weren’t drunk to the point of recklessness. But you were affected -enough for it to bother him.

And enough for the men around you to start noticing.

San's jaw tensed as he caught the way one of them leaned in a little too close, laughing at something you said while resting a hand on the small of your back.

His fingers tightened around the glass.

One step. Then another.

And just like that, San made his presence known.

It didn’t take much. A subtle shift, a lingering stare, the sheer weight of his presence.

One by one, they felt it. The men who had been inching closer to you, the ones who had been eyeing you a little too long, suddenly lost their nerve.

Because San wasn’t just any man in this room.

He was Choi San.

And you?

You belonged to no one. But tonight, whether you realized it or not—he was the one watching over you.

As the night wore on, San quietly excused himself from the venue, stepping out just in time to see you slip into the cool night air.

You swayed slightly as you fished through your purse, huffing when your fingers fumbled against your phone screen.

San sighed.

He should leave.

He should.

Instead, he stepped forward. "Where are you going?"

You turned, blinking up at him. Even in your slightly dazed state, that same fire burned in your gaze. "Home," you muttered. "Not that it’s any of your business".

San ignored your sharp tongue, his gaze scanning your expression. “You’re not driving".

"No shit," you scoffed. "I’m not that stupid".

He exhaled a quiet chuckle. “Debatable". Before you could snap at him, he was already pulling out his phone, calling a cab.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.

Minutes later, the car arrived. San opened the door, motioning for you to get in.

You hesitated, eyeing him warily. "Why are you doing this?"

San met your gaze, voice unreadable. “Just get in the car, sweetheart".

Too tired -or maybe too light headed- to fight, you slipped inside.

San gave the driver your address, watching as the car pulled away before following behind on his own car. Close enough to make sure you got to the destination with no problem, but far enough not to cross any boundaries. 

When you arrived at your family’s mansion, San was already there, standing at the bottom of the steps with his arms crossed.

He didn’t say anything as you fumbled for your keys, barely managing to unlock the door.

He just waited.

And when you turned to glance at him one last time, confusion flickering through your gaze, he simply jerked his chin toward the open door.

“Go inside".

You hesitated. But then, with a tired sigh, you stepped in, closing the door behind you.

San lingered for a few seconds, ensuring you didn’t stumble back out, before turning on his heel.

Only then did he allow himself a quiet exhale.

Running a hand through his hair, he glanced back at the darkened windows of the mansion before getting back in his car. Because no matter how much you resisted him, no matter how many times you tried to push him away San always made sure you were safe. And even if if he was damn sure you wouldn't remember that night the morning after, even if he knew you wouldn't call him as soon as you woke up to thank him, he didn't really need you to. 

Months passed, and with every encounter, his obsession deepened.

He thought about you when he shouldn't. He watched you when you weren't looking. He memorized the way your lips pursed when you were annoyed, the sharp glint in your eyes when someone underestimated you, the way you always checked your watch before leaving a room—like you had something better to do, somewhere better to be.

It drove him insane.

And then, one evening, his father called him into his office with an offer that made his entire world tilt. 

"You need to settle down, San. The board won't trust you with the company until you prove you can be responsible".

San scoffed. "So what? You want me to pluck a wife out of thin air?"

His father's eyes gleamed. "Not quite. There's been an interesting proposal from an old friend of mine. A business deal, one that could benefit both families. You might already know his daughter. You've met her before".

San barely heard the rest of the conversation.

Because the moment your name left his father's lips, something inside him snapped.

It was perfect.

You were perfect.

It didn't matter that you would hate him for it. It didn't matter that you would fight it.

You were going to be his.

One way or another.

[armpirate]

Until You're Mine || Choi San | Ch. 24

MASTERLIST Previous || Next

Pairings: Mafia!San x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, obsession, mafia love

Warnings: dom!San, sub!reader, explicit language, mention of drug and guns, violence, rough sex.

Summary: San, a notorious and feared mafia boss, has always lived in the shadows of power and violence. When an ambush leaves him wounded and on the run, he finds refuge in an empty event hall. Inside, Y/n, a rising star in the world of event planning, is nursing her own wounds -a career on the line after a confrontation with a powerful client. The last thing she expects is for her night to take a dark turn when San stumbles into her life, bloodied and dangerous.

Despite the fear and uncertainty, Y/n can't turn away. She helps him clean up, binding more than just his wounds in the process. What begins as an intense, chance encounter spirals into a dangerous obsession. San, used to being the hunter, becomes fixated on the one woman who dared to help him, even in his darkest moment. Meanwhile, Y/n, caught in the mystery of that powerful man, finds herself tracking his every move, unable to shake the dangerous allure of his world.

Neither knows that their fascination with each other is mutual. In a city teeming with danger, power, and deceit, their secret obsessions will pull them deeper into a deadly game -one where love, power, and obsession intertwine, and nothing is as it seems.

Chapter duration: 13 minutes

The lock clicked.

Y/n pushed open the door to her apartment and stepped into the silence of her place.

Her heels echoed faintly on the hardwood floor. Her dress clung like melted ink to her skin, still cold from the night air. The taste of champagne lingered on her tongue, but the buzz had long since worn off. She reached for the lights, only to freeze when she heard a voice from the shadows.

—Don't.

Her hand paused mid-air.

The living room lamp flicked on before she could move, illuminating him.

San.

He was sitting on her couch, legs spread slightly, forearms resting on his knees, wearing one of his black suits, his tie hung undone around his neck. One of his hands loosely held a cigarette -unlit. His eyes dragged over her like a razor. Y/n blinked, once, then stepped fully inside, shut the door, and set her purse down.

She didn't ask how he got in.

Of course he had a key. Of course he'd use it when she didn't answer.

—How long have you been here?

Her voice was even.

San took a moment, looked her up and down again. His tone was quieter than she expected, dead calm.

—Long enough to know you disobeyed me.

That word, disobeyed, landed heavy. It first had an erotic hit in her system, but then it annoyed her when she realized what he meant.

She let out a humorless laugh as she kicked off her heels by the door.

—Is that what we're calling it now? Orders?

—You knew I didn't want you there.

She walked past him toward the kitchen, spine straight, hair still pinned perfectly, glittering earrings swinging with every step.

—You also knew I'd go anyway.

—And yet you didn't tell me. What was all that bullshit of trusting each other? —he growled— You could've fucking told me.

She poured herself a glass of water, she didn't answer for a few seconds.

—No, I didn't tell you.

San stood up slowly behind her. The air shifted.

—I thought it was better to tell you once it happened, because I'm sure you would've found a way to lock me in here if I had told you.

—You know I would know way earlier you told me.

She sipped her water and said nothing.

—Someone saw you. 'Told me you were laughing with Hongjoong's people, talking like nothing ever happened. Like we didn't talk about this.

Her fingers tightened around the glass.

—Who told you?

—Does it matter?

He was closer now. Quiet rage curled under every word, held back by something brittle. Something dangerous.

She turned around, leaning against the counter, arms crossed.

—Yes. It matters. Because whoever you sent to watch me clearly forgot to mention I was working, gathering information, playing the game the same way you do.

—Funny —he muttered, stepping forward—. From where I'm standing, it looked a hell of a lot like betrayal.

Y/n's jaw clenched.

—Don't you dare say that word to me.

San stopped, eyes flaring.

—Then explain it. Explain why, after I asked you not to go, begged you not to go, you still did. And didn't think you owed me even a fucking text.

She set the glass down, slow and deliberate, and tried to hold back the eye roll desperate to come out as she had to explain herself once more.

—Because if I had told you, you would've stopped me.

—Damn right I would have.

—So you still think you deserved to know after admitting that? Fuck, San, I just did something that was necessary.

That hit harder than a bullet.

—My men were already there to watch over the party.

—You don't get it. Your men could watch from afar, but the invitation to get a real approach was mine —she highlighted the last word.

Silence cracked between them. His breathing sharpened. Her voice softened—but not in surrender.

—San, this isn't about Mia. Or Hongjoong. This is about you not trusting me to make my own calls.

He stepped in closer.

—It's about you thinking you don't need me. About you thinking you're tough and sharper, making moves without even looking back.

She didn't flinch.

—So what, now I'm too much like you?

That stung. He looked away for a second, just a flicker, before meeting her eyes again.

—No, because I, at least, would've told you.

—Oh shit, don't make me laugh. You sent Jongho to watch over me without telling me, so don't try to act like I'm the only one doing things without telling you.

San frowned for a second, taken aback by the fact that he sent Yunho to watch over her, not Jongho.

—You should listen to me, without making me feel like I'm breaking something just by breathing wrong.

His hands curled into fists at his sides.

—You walked into that gala like you belonged to them.

—No, I walked into that gala like I wanted to know what's planned against the person I belong to.

The words were sharp, ugly, vulnerable. She stared at him, all the way through, eyes glittering like obsidian.

—I chose you. I choose you, every single day. But if you keep treating that like some kind of leash, one day... I won't.

His jaw locked. She watched him struggle with it -his pride, his fear, the possessiveness coiled behind his ribs like wire ready to snap.

—You think I don't trust you —he said finally—. But it's not about trust. It's about fear.

Her voice cracked, just slightly.

—Then say that, say you're scared. But also say why you're scared: is it because of losing me, or you're scared of me backstabbing you? —she challenged him.

Silence again. The kind that pressed against your chest like a blade.

He looked at her, his eyes reflecting all the dark thoughts that were going through his head.

—You were the one thing I thought I could keep —he said, voice low, almost childlike—. The one thing that wouldn't turn on me, or lie to me, or vanish when it got too hard. And tonight... I felt it. You are slipping, further than I can reach.

Something in her cracked. Not out of weakness. Out of exhaustion.

She moved toward him, steps slow, but steady.

—I was never trying to disappear, San. And I'm so tired of trying to prove to you how I wouldn't betray you —she sighed—. I'd betray for you, not the other way around.

When she reached him, she rested a hand over his heart.

He caught her wrist, held it.

—Angel...

She looked up into his eyes -haunted, raw, and too full of her.

—Stop making me choose between you and me, because I'm afraid I'll choose you over myself time and time again, and that's not fair.

They stood there, breathing each other in. The distance gone, but the damage lingering. And slowly, gently, he leaned in. Not like he was taking something -like he was asking.

When she kissed him back, it wasn't forgiveness. It was a warning.

—I never thought you were betraying me. I don't know why I said that —he whispered, his brows furrowing slightly.

—I know —she hummed, running her fingers through the soft fabric of his shirt.

She knew because if San had ever suspected she was willing to betray him, he wouldn't have waited in the dark in her apartment, sitting in her couch like he was desperate for her to come back, just to know she was safe.

His lips pressed to hers again, firmer this time. A question turning into a demand.

Her fingers curled into the lapels of his suit, and she kissed him back -open, slow, aching with too many unspoken things. The kind of kiss that tasted like apology and threat all at once.

He broke away first, barely breathing.

—You drive me crazy so easily...

Her reply was a whisper against his mouth.

—Good.

Then he kissed her again. And this time, there was no restraint.

San backed her against the shelves where she carried all of her books, one hand gripping her waist, the other sliding up her bare arm, feeling the cool satin of her dress. His touch was bruising, not from anger, but from desperation -like he needed to memorize every inch of her skin before she vanished again.

Her hands moved to his shirt, yanking it from his pants, fingers slipping underneath to feel the heat of him.

He let out a quiet groan against her neck.

—You look so fucking hot in everything you wear, but this dress... —he sucked on her neck hard— I swear to god you're irresistible.

She smirked, gasping as his teeth grazed her throat.

—Isn't this the moment where you say I look better off without it? Or something like that? —she teasingly asked.

He chuckled darkly, lifting her with ease, getting her legs to wrap around his hips, eager to get her out of that dress, eager to get her anywhere where he could have her as deep and rough as he wanted.

His hands pushed her dress up, slowly, reverently, until the fabric pooled at her hips. He stood between her legs, his palms spreading across her thighs like he owned them.

—You don't know what it does to me knowing that no one sees you like this.

She rolled her hips into his touch, breath hitching. With every step he took, his hips pressed slightly into hers.

—You don't get to talk about possession after tonight.

His eyes snapped up to hers. The muscle in his jaw ticked.

—Then let me prove it's not just that.

She opened her mouth to respond, but he kissed her again -harder, deeper- and the words melted into a moan.

The kiss turned messy, urgent. And, backing her up against the door frame to her room, he pushed his jacket off, hands tugging at his belt. He grabbed the back of her neck, not to control, but to hold, to anchor, to beg without saying a word.

Their clothes came off in pieces the second he crossed the door to her room. His mouth never left her skin for long. He kissed every part of her like he was reminding himself she was real. That she was still his.

Not out of dominance, but out of need.

—I'm still so fucking angry at you —he growled against the skin of her ribs.

—Guess that makes two of us.

When he finally slid into her, there was a pause. His thrust was deep, harsh, quick, but he stopped. A breath. Their foreheads pressed together, eyes locked.

—Don't ask for permission —he slid in deep once more, making her gasp when she felt her body bouncing with his—, but let me know what you do unless you want me glued to your back all the time.

—Why does that sound so good? —she teased him again.

As he sank his face in the crook of her neck to bite down on the curve of her shoulder, he started a paused and determined pace that had her holding onto him, nails digging on his skin.

—You always come back to me —he whispered, voice raw—, where you belong. Isn't that right?

—No —she whispered back, pulling him deeper—. I never left.

The rhythm started slow -grinding, deliberate, sensual. Like both of them were trying to say something the other would understand only through the way their bodies met.

He ran his fingers down her side, curled an arm under her thigh, held her to him like she was both salvation and punishment. She kissed the corner of his mouth, his jaw, his scar on his shoulder -that reminded her of the night they met-, like she was tracing all the parts of him that hurt in silence.

San's breath hitched as he moved harder, faster, with anger and pleasure, but still holding onto control like it was the last thread keeping him from falling apart.

Her name left his lips like a curse, like she was just pushing him to turn crazier.

And when she came -shoulders trembling, head thrown back, ears beeping- he followed, forehead pressed into her neck, arms locked around her like he'd lose himself if he let go.

They stayed like that, breathing, wrapped in sweat and silence.

After a while, he pulled back just enough to look at her. His thumb brushed her cheek. His voice was low, rough.

—I don't want to fight like that again.

She met his gaze, fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck.

—Then stop making me feel like I have to choose between loving you and being myself.

He closed his eyes.

—You don't. You don't understand —he breathed—. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you. I need you to be safe —he mentioned, slowly—. If something happens to you, nothing will matter. I won't be able to find sense in breathing if I'm not going to look into your eyes again. Don't you realize? —his fingers traced the skin on her neck, carefully, before he gripped her jaw to force her eyes on him— You aren't doing something like this again. It's the last time.

He didn't wait for her to answer, not even a nod. His lips were on hers again before she could even take air to speak.

There wasn't any hunger this time, just a promise. A promise that she'd remain near his grasp, while he did everything he could to protect her. And this time, they kissed each other like they both believed it.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward. It was soft, weighted in the way only quiet after a storm could be.

San was lying beside her on the bed, over the messed rose sheets, one hand resting against her stomach as her chest slowly rose and fell beneath his touch. The night outside the windows was still dark, but calm.

She stared up at the ceiling. He watched her.

—You really didn't want me to go tonight.

His jaw flexed, but he didn't look away.

—I didn't. You knew why.

She hummed, noncommittal, fingers brushing his wrist lazily.

—I know. But I want to be of help.

—You can't keep putting yourself in places where I can't do that, because you stop being of help, then.

Her eyes slid toward him.

—So, what you're telling me is to stand on the side and not get involved?

—Angel, you're already neck in to tell you you're not involved. I'm just saying to stop putting yourself in risky situations that will bring nothing to the table. The drinks could've been poisoned, someone could've stabbed you among the crowd, you could've been kidnapped with the excuse of telling you something... I know this, we don't play fair. We have no limits.

His hand paused. He took a breath.

—I'm really trying to remain sane, to think with a clear head so it'll be beneficial for us. So stop trying to push me to kill everyone that could be a threat to you.

She didn't have to answer for him to know she understood the meaning behind his words. The way she pressed her lips, the way she looked down at his chest... He knew she was finally realizing how that night could've ended if it had been in Hongjoong's plans.

And the fact that it didn't end up with even a small attempt worried him even more.

They stayed in silence for a few seconds again, until:

—You said Jongho was there?

She blinked.

—Yeah. You sent him, didn't you?

He sat up slightly, leaning on one elbow.

—No.

Her body went still, her eyebrows slightly knitting together on her forehead.

—What?

—I didn't send him. I told Yunho to keep an eye on you from a distance, but I never involved Jongho.

—But he was there . I saw him. I didn't walk to him to ask him what he was doing, because I assumed you sent him, just like you did with Wooyoung last time.

San's face darkened.

—Did you see him talking with anyone at the gala?

She nodded slowly, the chill crawling back into her limbs despite the warmth of their bodies minutes ago.

—I didn't recognize the men he was with. Although... Now that you mention it, at some point I saw Seonghwa leaving the main venue. Minutes later Jongho disappeared, too, but I wasn't sure it was connected.

San was already sitting up fully now, running a hand through his damp hair. Something had shifted in his attitude -the soft intimacy bleeding into sharp calculation.

—Yunho never mentioned Jongho being part of the rotation. And Jongho isn't the type to freelance unless there's a reason.

Her throat tightened.

—You think he's working for someone else?

—I think someone either told him to be there... or someone's been giving him orders without going through me.

She sat up, placing her hands on the mattress to support her body.

—Could he have been watching someone else?

San's eyes met hers. And for the first time that night, they were cold.

—No. We aren't after anyone else right now. Fuck, you're the only reason why I asked Yunho to attend the gala in the first place.

Silence crackled again. The weight of it different. No longer emotional -tactical.

He stood, walking toward the armchair where his shirt lay, pulling it over his head as his mind started turning faster than his hands.

—There's something else going on. Jongho wouldn't go rogue unless...

—Unless someone made him believe I'm not on your side? —she finished quietly— Could he have gone there on his own to make sure I'm not betraying you?

San stilled. Then turned to her, slow and deliberate.

—Or worse. Someone wants to know if I still care enough about you to be vulnerable.

Her blood ran cold.

—You think someone sent him to test you? —she tilted her head— You think he's a traitor?

He didn't answer. Just stared at her. Then he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out his phone.

—I'm calling Yunho. I want to know where Jongho is right now.

She watched him, pulse starting to race again, but for a different reason this time. 

Taglist: @a-tiny-thing , @brown88

[armpirate]

Until You're Mine || Choi San | Ch. 1

MASTERLIST Next

Pairings: Mafia!San x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, obsession, mafia love

Warnings: dom!San, sub!reader, explicit language, mention of drug and guns, violence, rough sex.

Summary: San, a notorious and feared mafia boss, has always lived in the shadows of power and violence. When an ambush leaves him wounded and on the run, he finds refuge in an empty event hall. Inside, Y/n, a rising star in the world of event planning, is nursing her own wounds -a career on the line after a confrontation with a powerful client. The last thing she expects is for her night to take a dark turn when San stumbles into her life, bloodied and dangerous.

Despite the fear and uncertainty, Y/n can't turn away. She helps him clean up, binding more than just his wounds in the process. What begins as an intense, chance encounter spirals into a dangerous obsession. San, used to being the hunter, becomes fixated on the one woman who dared to help him, even in his darkest moment. Meanwhile, Y/n, caught in the mystery of that powerful man, finds herself tracking his every move, unable to shake the dangerous allure of his world.

Neither knows that their fascination with each other is mutual. In a city teeming with danger, power, and deceit, their secret obsessions will pull them deeper into a deadly game -one where love, power, and obsession intertwine, and nothing is as it seems.

Chapter duration: 20 minutes

Chapter warnings: Violence, shooting, mentions of blood and drugs

The night had gone according to plan: the cabs were on time, the guests started arriving -with a significant amount of people showing up for the event-, the cloudy sky only showed its black tone with some shining starts standing out -at least, what the city of Detroit allowed-, which meant the cocktail would be held on the outside as planned.

Everything was going according to plan… until it didn't.

Y/n's fingers trailed absently over the clipboard, eyes scanning the banquet hall for any last-minute hiccups. The small awards ceremony had flowed as smoothly as she'd envisioned -perfectly timed speeches, lights dimming at all the right moments, and not a single technical glitch. The guests were enjoying the short colloquiums, the awards were safe and taken well care of before handing them to their owners.

She had everything under control… until the cocktail hour came.

The shift to the cocktail reception felt like a descent into chaos.

Y/n's gaze darted to the far end of the adjacent room, where a tall, chubby woman -one of the night's winners- was animatedly arguing with a waiter. A simple mix-up over her drink order had somehow spiraled out of control. The brunette was waving her arms, her voice rising over the soft chatter of the crowd, her complaints turning heads. Y/n felt the knot tighten in her stomach as she hurried over, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

Those situations always made her nervous, but it wasn't something she hadn't seen before or something she wasn't able to find a solution to.

—Look at what you've done —the woman snapped, her frustration palpable—. Do you have an idea of how much this dress costs?

It was a trivial mistake, one that could have been handled discreetly, but that ended up having the attention of half the room.

—I'm sorry, miss. I'm sure it was an accident, she was trying to get through… —Y/n said in her calmest voice, attempting to calm down the situation— Let me help you clean you up.

—Are you blaming me now?

—No, no —she quickly shook her head—. I meant that she didn't do it on purpose, these things happen. There's a trick to clean wine up.

—I don't need your boorish tricks —the woman pushed her away before Y/n could even attempt to help her—. Shit, this dress cost eight hundred dollars. Are you going to pay for it?

Y/n's body tensed after hearing the price. That woman paid for her dress the same amount Y/n paid for her rent, which she thought was expensive just a few hours back, while discussing with one of the hostesses back in the hall.

That woman was making a big fuss, when she knew s\well he had no problem buying another one if she wanted to. Hell, she probably had that same dress in different colors back home.

—Miss, again, the waitress was trying to get through, but you were in the middle of the way. I'm afraid the company can't pay for the dress, but…

—Not only do you ruin my dress, but also call me fat?

—What? No, of course not. I never meant it that way.

Y/n was trying everything in her hand to calm the woman down and keep her from making a scene, but it was too late. All eyes were already on them as Celia Curry kept ranting about her dress, ignoring all her attempts on making damage control. Some guests whispered behind their hands, and others simply watched, relishing the drama of someone else's accident.

The situation kept scalating out of her control, feeling like every word she said only helped to make things worse.

It didn't take long for Y/n's boss, Darnell, to appear beside her, his towering frame and stern expression making her stomach clench.

Darnell was a man of few words, but when he spoke, his tone carried weight. His skin was as dark as the fitted suit he wore, his eyes sharp behind his glasses as he fixed her with a disapproving look, before he took control of the situation that she wasn't able to, moving away with the problematic lady.

Eventually, the situation was handled, but the damage was done. The smooth control Y/n had so carefully maintained all night was shattered.

Darnell was chatting with the few guests left, while the only people left were those working for the catering company -and who were picking up all the tables spread all over the room-, and the three hostesses that were chatting between them.

She hoped that conversation would last forever, because she knew what would come next for her wouldn't be good news.

—Y/n —he said, his voice serious—, you need to handle situations like that better. You're supposed to put out the fire, not to make it worse.

Her stomach twisted. She was convinced it wasn't that bad, but she guessed wrong.

—I know what you're trying to say, but she only calmed down because it was you who spoke to her —she tried to explain.

—I have to pay eight hundred dollars of my own money, just so she'd stop making a scene. You've been working in the industry for long enough to know that it's always better to just nod and let them rant than say something else that could get us in trouble.

—It was an accident. The waitress didn't want to ruin her dress. What did she expect us to do? To call out someone who was doing her job? It was her fault for being on the way…

—I don't want excuses —he cut her off, his tone sharp—. Celia was going to hire us for one of the parties she hosts, and we almost lost that opportunity because you still don't know what are the right words to say in situations like these. I won't let it pass another time.

With that, he walked away, leaving her standing alone in the now quiet venue, her confidence shaken.

Y/n stayed behind, even when everyone that formed the staff left, needing the time to process and, more than anything, catch her breath.

The venue was eerily quiet now, the earlier noise replaced with the echo of distant footsteps and the soft hum of the lights. She glanced at the bar, where leftover glasses and discarded napkins remained.

She sighed, sinking into one of the chairs in the now-empty hall. It was supposed to have been her night. A flawless event to prove she could handle anything. Instead, she was left picking up the pieces of a mistake that never should have happened.

Alone with her thoughts, Y/n's mind wandered. Little did she know, her night was just getting started.

San stood at the edge of the abandoned ceramics establishment that once belonged to his family, the dim light from a single hanging bulb casting long shadows across the concrete floor. The air was thick with tension, and the scent of dust and humidity filled the room. It was a place where deals were made in silence and sealed with blood.

That night was supposed to be no different.

He had chosen that place himself -an isolated part of the docks, far from prying eyes and the ears of law enforcement. No one in that part of the city spoke about what they saw, even less if he was involved.

His black suit clung to his form with a precision that matched his meticulous nature. Everything was always under control.

Behind him stood Mingi and Jongho, his most trusted men. Mingi's height alone made him intimidating, his broad shoulders like steel doors guarding a vault. Jongho, quieter but lethal, had eyes that missed nothing. The two were formidable, their presence an unspoken warning: Do not cross us.

San's gaze was fixed on the men standing opposite him. Four of them, each dressed in leather jackets and cheap denim, their eyes darting nervously between him and his men. They had the look of street thugs -greedy, reckless, but not entirely stupid. Their leader, a man named Lucas, had swaggered in as if he owned the place, a false confidence that grated on San's nerves.

It had been an important deal, one San had personally overseen. This wasn't just another routine drug exchange; it was one that could tighten his grip on the city's underworld, push his operations to new heights. But from the moment the other group had walked in, San had sensed something was off.

The bags of money and drugs were in place, stacked neatly on a table in the center of the room. The terms were clear: a large shipment of high-grade product for an equally large sum of cash. But the other men -they were stalling.

San narrowed his eyes, his fingers lightly tapping the handle of the gun hidden beneath his jacket. He didn't like delays, and he liked hesitation even less.

—What's up, Lucas —San's voice was calm, but it carried an edge that made people pause.

He didn't need to shout to be threatening. Power, he had learned long ago, was in restraint. When you had it, you didn't need to flaunt it.

Lucas glanced at his men, shifting on his feet. His cocky demeanor faltered.

—We just… we need to make sure the product's pure, you know? No offense, San.

San's jaw clenched. He didn't like repeating himself. The product had already been tested, vetted, and verified. These kinds of second guesses were a slap in the face, especially after the reputation he had built. But Lucas' behavior wasn't just about caution. It was something more.

—You're wasting my time —San said, stepping forward. His voice dropped lower, a dangerous warning—. It was already tested. Are you implying I'm trying to fool you?

—It's not about trust, but I guess you already know that.

Lucas fumbled, gesturing to one of his men to check the drugs despite the first rejection, but San's focus wasn't on the drugs anymore. It was in their hands. Fidgeting. Twitching. Lucas' right hand, tapping rhythmically against his thigh. The unmistakable sign of a man on edge -one waiting for something.

It clicked in San's mind: This isn't just nerves. They're uneasy for a reason.

His instincts, honed by years in the streets, screamed danger. Without a word, San's eyes flicked to Mingi and Jongho. The two moved imperceptibly, hands ready on their weapons, their muscles coiled like springs, waiting for his signal.

—There's the money —Lucas insisted, his voice cracking slightly as he pulled a gun from his waistband, waving it casually like a prop.

A bad attempt to look tougher than he was, while trying to distract the man in front of him.

San didn't flinch. He never did.

—Test the fucking coke —he said coolly, nodding toward the product—. Do the job you came for. Unlike you, I know you don't have the balls to trick me.

Lucas hesitated. His men shifted, their gazes bouncing between each other. It was a subtle tell, but enough for San to know what was coming.

They've already decided.

San's eyes hardened. His blood surged with the cold realization. He didn't wait for the first move -he made it.

In one fluid motion, San drew his gun, his aim deadly accurate as he fired at Lucas' man who reached for the drugs. The shot rang out, the deafening crack of the gun a declaration of war. The man crumpled to the floor before he could draw his own weapon.

Gunfire erupted from all sides. Lucas' crew had been waiting for that -ready to steal both the drugs and the money. Bullets ricocheted off the metal beams, and the sound of shattering glass filled the room as chaos took over.

San moved with precision, his body a blur as he fired off two more shots, dropping another of Lucas' men. But in the frenzy, Lucas and the remaining two scrambled for the table, grabbing the bags and making a break for the exit.

Blood pulsed from a sudden, sharp pain in San's side. He looked down, seeing the dark stain spreading across his shirt. He'd been hit.

He stumbled backward, bracing himself against a pillar. His vision blurred for a second, but he forced himself to stay standing. He could hear Mingi and Jongho taking down more of the traitors, but it wasn't enough. Lucas had slipped through their fingers, dragging the stolen goods with him.

—Boss! —Jongho was beside him in an instant, eyes wide with concern—. You're hit!

San waved him off, anger fueling him more than the pain.

—Go after them. Now.

—We can't leave you here —Mingi insisted.

—I said go! —San's voice was steel, leaving no room for argument.

He wasn't going to bleed out there while his enemies walked free with what was his. He could still feel Lucas' smirk in the air, and that thought alone sent a fresh surge of fury through him.

Mingi and Jongho hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. They bolted after the escaping men, their footsteps echoing as they disappeared into the night.

San stood alone in the now-silent establishment, breathing heavily, his hand pressed hard against the wound. He could feel the warm blood spilling out between his fingers. Soon the police sirens reached his ear, making him curse in between her teeth, before he chose to escape through the back door.

He needed to get out, find somewhere safe, but the pain made each step harder.

Dragging himself through the alleys, he pushed forward, determined to stay conscious. After what felt like an eternity, the dim glow of a nearby venue caught his eye. He didn't know what it was -a bar, a club- but the lights were still on. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere he could stop the bleeding, and somewhere where he wouldn't be found, because the police wouldn't look for him there.

Without another option, he stumbled toward the door, pushing it open with what little strength he had left.

And that was when he saw her.

Y/n jumped, startled by the sudden crash of the door slamming against the wall. A man stumbled inside, his tall figure nearly crumpling as he lurched forward. She froze, her breath catching in her throat, eyes widening in shock.

He wore a gray suit, or what was left of it. The jacket was torn, stained with something dark -blood. A long, black coat hung loosely from his broad shoulders, but his sharp features were marred by the ghostly pale complexion of someone who had lost too much blood.

His dark, almond-shaped eyes scanned the room, his lips pressed into a tight line of pain. The man was hurt, badly.

Too much blood.

Her hands trembled as she shot to her feet. Instinct screamed at her to help, but fear paralyzed her for a moment. Her mind raced, panicked, as she saw the crimson seeping through the fabric of his suit, the gaping hole in his side.

—Oh god —she breathed, stepping back, her eyes glued to the growing red stain.

The man's knees buckled, and he stumbled forward, grabbing onto a nearby table for support. His gaze locked onto hers, sharp despite the pain.

—Help me —he rasped, his voice deep and commanding, a raw edge to it.

Her first instinct was to reach for her phone, call an ambulance so he'd get the help he needed, but he stopped her before she could get her purse.

—Don't call anyone.

—What? —Y/n blinked, not fully understanding— But you're bleeding…

—I said don't call anyone —he repeated, this time stronger, more forceful.

His words cut through her panic, grounding her. His eyes, dark and unreadable, pinned her in place. It wasn't a request; it was an order.

—Please… —his tone softened, just slightly, almost pleading, but the command remained. He leaned harder against the table, fighting to stay upright.

Y/n swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She moved toward him cautiously, instinct taking over despite the fear gnawing at her insides. He was a stranger -dangerous-looking, clearly involved in something violent- but something in his voice, his gaze, pulled her closer. She couldn't just leave him there.

—I… I don't know what to do —she stammered, glancing at the blood soaking his side. Her mind screamed at her to run, to call for help, but instead, her hands hovered over his coat—. You need a doctor.

—No doctor. So I guess the only thing I need right now is you.

—But… —Y/n hesitated, eyes wide.

His hand shot out and grabbed her wrist with surprising strength, making her gasp. His fingers were cold, but his grip was firm, insistent.

—Check my back —he ordered, his voice rough but steady—. Is there a hole?

Her stomach turned at the request, but she nodded, swallowing back the lump in her throat as she slowly stepped behind him. Her trembling fingers lifted the edge of his black coat, revealing more blood. It was everywhere. She winced as she saw the tear in the back of his suit -another bullet wound.

Oh God, there's another one.

Her knees nearly buckled at the sight of it, her breath catching in her throat.

—There's… there's another wound —she whispered, panic rising in her voice.

—Good. That'll make it easy —he mumbled—. Just… clean it. Stop the bleeding —he ordered again, his voice hoarse but laced with the same cold authority.

Y/n nodded, her movements stiff and robotic as she grabbed a towel from one of the tables. She didn't know what else to do -there was no medical kit, no real supplies to help someone who had been shot. But San moved first, clenching his jaw to omit a whine when he attempted to take off his shirt. She could hear the tremor in her own breathing as she pressed the towel to his back, feeling the warmth of his blood soak through the fabric.

He winced but said nothing, his jaw clenched as he leaned against the table, his chest heaving with labored breaths.

—You're losing too much blood —she whispered, pressing harder to stem the flow—. I don't think I can…

—You can —he interrupted, his voice low but firm—. I'll tell you what to do. Just… focus.

Y/n bit her lip, forcing herself to breathe, to calm down. She could feel the weight of his eyes on her under his wet bangs, even as she worked to stop the bleeding. He was staring at her -his expression unreadable but intense, almost like he was sizing her up, gauging her resolve.

—Who are you? —she asked quietly, glancing up at him through her lashes as she pressed the towel harder against his back— What happened?

He didn't answer. Instead, his eyes darkened, his face tightening with pain as he leaned more heavily against the table.

—That's not important right now.

Y/n swallowed hard, feeling the gravity of the situation sink deeper into her bones. That man, whoever he was, wasn't just hurt. He was dangerous. The way he commanded her, the way he dismissed his injuries, like this was just another day -it wasn't normal.

And yet, there was something about him, something magnetic, that kept her rooted in place. Even through the fear and confusion, she couldn't look away.

—Please —he said again, softer this time. His voice cut through her racing thoughts like a blade—. Help me.

Y/n pressed the towel harder against his back, her hands shaking as she tried to stop the bleeding. The man's breathing had become shallower, each breath coming in ragged, painful bursts, but he still didn't let up. He gave her instructions with a calm authority that unnerved her.

—Press harder —San murmured, his deep voice steady, though strained with pain. His dark eyes flicked between the wound and her face—. You're doing fine.

—I doubt you're doing fine though —she swallowed back the panic clawing at her throat, focusing on his words. Her fingers trembled as she tore strips from the tablecloth, fashioning them into makeshift bandages—. I'm not a doctor—. she whispered, her voice shaky—. I don't know if this is enough.

—It's enough —he said with a certainty that silenced any protest.

His hand rested against the table, steadying himself, while his gaze lingered on her face. His sharp eyes softened just for a moment as he noticed her red, puffy eyes -evidence of the tears she'd been shedding before he barged in.

San's brow furrowed slightly, an unfamiliar feeling rising in his chest. He wasn't used to caring about anyone else's emotions, let alone a stranger's.

—You were crying —he said, the statement coming out more like an observation than a question.

Y/n froze, blinking rapidly. She hadn't expected him to notice -he was the one bleeding out in front of her, after all.

—I… it's nothing. Just a bad day.

—A bad day? —his voice held a hint of something she couldn't quite place… curiosity? Amusement? His gaze darkened as he watched her work, her delicate fingers moving swiftly despite the fear in her eyes.

He was used to seeing fear. He'd seen it in countless faces before, but it was different. Her fear wasn't for him -it was for herself, for something else entirely, like she was scared of hurting him more.

—What kind of bad day makes someone cry alone in an empty venue?

Y/n bit her lip, trying to suppress the tears threatening to return. This wasn't the time to break down again. Not in front of him.

—Work —she muttered—. It's… complicated.

His eyes narrowed as if weighing whether to push further, but then a wave of pain hit him, and he gritted his teeth, letting out a low groan.

Y/n's heart pounded as she moved in front of him, her hands trembling as she pressed the makeshift bandages against the wound in his side. She could feel the heat of his body when directly touching his torso, and the smell of blood lingered in the air.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and for a moment, everything seemed to still.

His gaze was locked on hers, unblinking, as if he could see straight through her. Those dark, intense eyes sent a shiver down her spine, and she found herself unable to look away.

—Thank you —he murmured, his voice softer now, almost intimate.

He reached up, his fingers brushing lightly against her wrist. The touch was subtle, yet it sent a surge of warmth up her arm, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat.

—You didn't have to help me.

She blinked, her pulse racing. Why does his touch feel like this?, she thought. She couldn't understand why that stranger -that dangerous, bleeding man- was making her feel so vulnerable, so exposed.

—It's not like I had a choice —she whispered, though she wasn't sure if that was entirely true.

She could have run, called for help, but something about him -something about the way he looked at her- had kept her there, as if she were drawn to him by an invisible force.

San's fingers lingered on her wrist for a second longer before he pulled away, his eyes still locked on hers. The tension between them thickened, and she could feel the air grow heavier. She had saved his life, but in doing so, she had become entangled in something much larger than herself.

—Your name —he said suddenly, his voice a low rasp—. What's your name?

Y/n hesitated for a split second, then answered softly:

—Y/n.

—Y/n… —he rolled her name over his tongue, as if tasting it, memorizing it. It sent a strange thrill through her, one she couldn't explain.

He took a deep breath, wincing slightly from the pain, but his gaze never left hers.

—I won't forget it —and he was so damn sure he meant it—. It's a beautiful name.

Something about the way he said it made her heart skip a beat. She wasn't sure if it was a promise or a warning, but she could feel it -a connection, sharp and undeniable, forming between them in that moment. The world outside seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in the dimly lit room.

Then, without warning, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered.

—I owe you one.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat, her pulse racing as his words sent a shiver down her spine. His closeness, the heat of his body, the intensity of his gaze -it was all overwhelming. She should have felt afraid, but instead, she felt something else entirely.

Before she could respond, his hand gently cupped the side of her face, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped. His touch was both gentle and possessive, as if he were claiming a piece of her in that moment.

—Don't cry for them —he murmured, his voice low and dangerous—. They don't deserve your tears.

Her breath hitched, and before she could process what was happening, he leaned in and pressed his lips softly against hers. The kiss was brief, just a brush of warmth, but it ignited something deep inside her. A spark. A hunger she hadn't known existed.

When he pulled back, their eyes locked, both of them breathing heavily. In that moment, Y/n knew that she was no longer just a bystander in his world -she was a part of it now.

San's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, as if memorizing every detail of her face. Then, with a grunt of pain, he straightened up, his movements slow and deliberate. He adjusted his coat, his hand pressing against the wound one last time.

—I'll find you —he said quietly, his voice full of an unspoken promise. And with that, he turned and walked toward the door, leaving her standing there, her heart pounding in her chest.

She had been so lost in his aura, that she hadn't been aware of the car parked outside, and that San had called while she was in the bathroom making the napkins wet.

As the door closed behind him, Y/n stood frozen, her fingers brushing her lips where his had been. She should have been terrified, but all she could think about was the way he had looked at her -the intensity in his eyes, the way his touch had made her feel alive.

She didn't know his name. She didn't know what kind of danger he had just brought into her life. But one thing was certain:

She needed to see him again.

[armpirate]

Until You're Mine || Choi San | Ch. 20

MASTERLIST Previous || Next

Pairings: Mafia!San x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, obsession, mafia love

Warnings: dom!San, sub!reader, explicit language, mention of drug and guns, violence, rough sex.

Summary: San, a notorious and feared mafia boss, has always lived in the shadows of power and violence. When an ambush leaves him wounded and on the run, he finds refuge in an empty event hall. Inside, Y/n, a rising star in the world of event planning, is nursing her own wounds -a career on the line after a confrontation with a powerful client. The last thing she expects is for her night to take a dark turn when San stumbles into her life, bloodied and dangerous.

Despite the fear and uncertainty, Y/n can't turn away. She helps him clean up, binding more than just his wounds in the process. What begins as an intense, chance encounter spirals into a dangerous obsession. San, used to being the hunter, becomes fixated on the one woman who dared to help him, even in his darkest moment. Meanwhile, Y/n, caught in the mystery of that powerful man, finds herself tracking his every move, unable to shake the dangerous allure of his world.

Neither knows that their fascination with each other is mutual. In a city teeming with danger, power, and deceit, their secret obsessions will pull them deeper into a deadly game -one where love, power, and obsession intertwine, and nothing is as it seems.

Chapter duration: 14 minutes

Chapter warnings: Smut, explicit language

The sun broke through the blackout curtains like a blade, thin and sharp and golden, slicing through the calm that lingered from the night before. Y/n stirred slowly, her body still warm from sleep, and from him. The sheets were tangled around her legs, the silk brushing her skin in a whisper. But what woke her wasn't light.

It was silence.

The kind that came right after something cracked.

San was gone.

His scent clung to the pillows: spice and smoke and something darker, something hers now. But the space beside her was cold, abandoned hours ago.

She sat up slowly, her hand brushing over the sheets where his body had been. A flicker of something unfamiliar twisted in her chest. Not doubt, not regret, but curiosity. The game had changed. The pieces were still moving.

Muffled voices echoed faintly down the hall, too low to make out, but urgent in rhythm. She reached for the first thing within arm's reach: his shirt. Oversized, black, soft from wear. She pulled it over her bare skin without thinking and stepped out into the corridor barefoot.

The marble under her feet was cold, the hallway dim.

She followed the voices like a thread, deeper into the belly of his world, until she found them.

The office door was cracked open, just enough for her to see him.

San stood shirtless, a towel slung low around his waist, droplets of water sliding down his wide back. He was leaning over a table littered with files, grainy photos, and a lit cigarette burning low between his fingers. His body was rigid, but his voice was calm, too calm.

Another man stood across from him, tall, suited, sunglasses still on despite the hour. His jaw was tight.

—Nothing's clean anymore —the man said—. He left a trail. On purpose.

San's fingers twitched.

—And you followed it?

The man hesitated. San didn't look up, but the air thickened like a warning. Y/n didn't mean to step forward, but the floor creaked, just enough. San's eyes snapped to the door.

Their gazes locked.

No surprise in his expression. Just heat. Tension. And a flash of something rawer than either of them had shown last night.

—You're up —he said, voice rough from disuse.

Y/n tilted her head slightly, one brow lifting.

—You didn't say goodbye —she said.

When the man turned, Y/n could recognize him from the other times she had been driven back to her place. He dedicated a knowing smile at San, before moving away to walk towards the door, walking past her.

Once they were back alone, San's smirk was lazy, but it didn't reach his eyes.

—Didn't think you'd want soft.

She didn't answer. She didn't have to. She stepped into the room without hesitation, barefoot and composed in his shirt, as if she owned the place. And just like that, the shift between them started again.

No longer about if she belonged in his world, but how deep she'd go.

The air in the office was thick with tension and steam, like the heat hadn't quite left his skin after the cold shower. San stood hunched over the cluttered table, one hand braced against the wood, the other trailing over a map littered with markings and red circles. His bare back flexed with every slow inhale, a rivulet of water still sliding down the line of his spine, disappearing into the waistband of his towel.

His oversized shirt hung off one shoulder, the hem brushed her thighs as she stepped deeper inside his office, her eyes never leaving him, studying all of his movements and mannerisms, all the little details that made her so obsessed in the first place.

San looked up the moment he felt her eyes.

His gaze raked over her slowly, as if the night before hadn't been enough.

—You're not supposed to be in here —he said, voice low and unreadable.

Y/n stepped inside without hesitation, her arms crossed loosely, her bare legs whispering against each other with every step.

—Neither are you —she said.

—And where am I supposed to be?

—In bed —she simply answered.

Her tone was soft, teasing, an echo of the line he'd once thrown at her when he revealed how long he'd been watching her. That earned her the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth.

She stopped at the edge of the table, her fingers grazing the surface. Her eyes flitted over the photos, the maps, the chaos he somehow made sense of. She tilted her head toward a familiar face.

—So it is him.

San's expression darkened slightly, but his eyes never left her.

—You recognize him from the file.

—I recognize him from my office —she said, voice calm—. He was one of our most generous clients.

San didn't flinch.

That generosity came with blood money.

—Not like you, obviously—she sarcastically added, making San twist his jaw slightly.

Y/n's gaze drifted back to the surveillance image.

—And now?

—Now —San muttered, dragging a finger across the map toward a circled address—, he's funding the people who want you gone.

She didn't respond right away. Instead, she stepped closer, until her hip brushed the side of the table and she was directly in his space. San didn't back away. His eyes dipped to her exposed shoulder, then to the collar where his shirt hung loose against her skin. His hand moved -slowly, deliberately- and trailed one knuckle up her arm.

—You should go back to bed —he murmured.

Y/n smiled.

—You should come back to bed, too.

San's lips parted like he might respond, but she leaned in before he could, letting her breath fan across his jaw.

—You're still trying to protect me —she whispered.

He looked at her, eyes dark.

—That's not a crime.

—It's boring —she whispered, nose brushing his.

A soft chuckle left him, but it was laced with something feral. He gripped her hip with one hand, pulling her flush against him, the table at her back.

—So what would you prefer?

She ran her hand across his chest, dragging droplets of water with her fingertips.

—Let me in.

San's gaze didn't waver.

—You're already in, angel.

She leaned closer, lips brushing the corner of his mouth.

—Deeper —her hands moved lower across his abdomen.

His jaw flexed. His grip on her hip tightened.

—Of course you do. My angel isn't as fragile as I want to keep believing, right? —he murmured.

—No, I'm not —she purred, fingers playing with the loose knot of his towel.

But before she could expose him completely, San stopped her. With a growl, he scooped her up, lifting her body effortlessly to put her over his desk. He pushed everything off with a sweep of his arm, the sound of papers scattering filling the air. He laid her down, his body hovering over hers, his eyes filled with a possessive hunger, and he leaned down, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both tender and fierce. He broke away, his hands moving to her -his- shirt, pushing it open, ripping off some of the buttons, getting the small beads to fly off the desk, baring her to his hungry gaze.

He groaned, a sound of pure, unadulterated pleasure, as he took in the sight of her, her body flushed and ready, her eyes filled with a desire that matched his own. He leaned down, his lips finding her nipple, his tongue darting out to taste her, to tease her, to worship her. He could feel her body responding, her hips arching into his touch, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He smiled, a slow, satisfied curve of his lips, satisfied with the way she was always compliant for him. He moved down, his lips trailing down her body, his hands following the curve of her hips, her thighs, her calves. He reached her feet, his lips finding the arch, his tongue darting out to lick the curve so slow that it made her whole body shiver. He could feel her body trembling, the gasps that escaped her mouth quickly flooded the room.

He broke away, his eyes never leaving hers as he moved his hands down her inner thighs. The touch was so terribly slow that she found herself clenching around nothing, desperate to feel his touch on her. And when he finally did touch her, it was a feather like rub, his thumb making vague circles around her clit.

But if there was something even more sensual than his touch, it was the look on his eyes, the silent authority that didn't need to be spoken to be known and present.

San did what she teased him for, dropping the towel around his feet, making the fabric pool around them, before he positioned himself at her entrance, his body ready, his heart pounding in his chest. Although he didn't move forward, instead, he slid higher, until his tip reached her clit once again. Once her hips arched up, he smirked, moving himself down back into her entrance, just sliding the tip inside, pushing down and out to drive her to the edge.

—Are you ready, Y/n? —he murmured, his voice a low, husky rumble.

She could only nod, her voice stolen by the intensity of his gaze, her lower lip trapped under her teeth. He leaned down, his lips finding hers in a searing kiss as he slowly, gently, pushed into her, groaning during the kiss as he felt how tightly she wrapped around him.

He began to move, his strokes steady and deep, yet following a small pace to make sure she adapted to him, his body trembling with the effort to maintain control.

—Fuck, Y/n —he hissed, his voice laced with pleasure—. I could stay here forever.

Y/n moaned, her body arching into his, her fingers digging into his wrists as he held her by the hip.

—San, please —she gasped, her body trembling with need—. I need more.

San groaned, his hips picking up a faster rhythm, his body slamming into hers.

—Like this, baby? —he growled, his voice a low, husky rumble— You want me to fuck you harder?

Y/n could only nod, her body convulsing with each thrust, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He reached down, his fingers finding her clit, rubbing in slow, steady circles. Her voice cracked, her back arched and, for a second, it felt like none of the movements of her body made any sense.

San picked up the rosary, pulling from the beads and causing the tighter turn of the piece to wrap even tighter around her throat as he forced her body up. She didn't complain. Her body liked it, she didn't even recognize the guttural moan that came from her at the mix of sensations. And San groaned louder when he felt the way she tightly clenched around him.

She was such a twisted thing.

—Are you close, angel? —he groaned, fingers and hips still moving— I can tell you're close.

Y/n could only moan again as she tried to hold his gaze, her brain was unable to form a coherent thought. It was like his name was the only thing that made sense in her brain cells.

—Let go for me, my angel —he urged, his voice a low growl—. Cum as hard as you want around me.

Y/n screamed, her body convulsing as she reached her high, her nails digging into his shoulders in an attempt to get some stability, her body trembling with the force of her orgasm. San followed soon after, his body tensing as he emptied himself into her, his lips capturing hers in a devoted kiss. They stayed like that, their bodies entwined, their breaths mingling, as they came down from their high.

San pulled back, his eyes showing care and concern despite the darkness that came up from their intercourse.

—Are you okay, baby? —he asked, his voice a soft caress.

Y/n smiled at his question and the shift of his tone, moving to brush her lips against his.

—Hmm, I'm okay.

—You sure?

He asked as his thumbs moved over the barely seen marks of the beads on her skin.

—I'm sure.

After smiling, San picked her up again, carrying her body to the bathroom and leaving her on the sink. He treated her with such care as he cleaned her up, that she couldn't believe it was the same man having freaky and rough sex with her.

Their lips linked again. Softly, slowly. Their mouths were inches apart, breath tangled, the air charged like a storm waiting to break. But instead of kissing her again, San pulled back just enough to smirk.

—I have work to do —he said.

Y/n didn't miss a beat. She slid in front of him to hop off the sink and sauntered toward the door, glancing at him over her shoulder.

—We have work to do.

San watched her go, that smirk fading into something darker, deeper. What was he going to do about her?

The room was silent save for the distant hum of electronics -monitors flickering low, cables coiled like serpents across the floor. San had returned to his table, shoulders tense, eyes scanning the mess of intel like he could get it to make more sense. But Y/n hadn't left. Not yet.

She moved quietly across the space, barefoot and unbothered, San's shirt slipping lower with every step. Her gaze was sharp as it drifted over the open files. Her fingers stopped on one -her company's logo at the top, familiar printouts underneath.

She picked it up.

Her eyes narrowed.

It wasn't just any name. It was a client she had signed off on personally. Months ago. Back then, it had looked like an investment in logistics -something clean, corporate. But now, paired with the recent explosion marked beside it and the red circle around a coded location... it clicked.

Her breath caught. Not with fear. With clarity.

She looked up, voice even.

—This wasn't random.

San didn't answer.

She stepped forward.

—They used my signature. My company.

His jaw tensed.

—You were never meant to see that.

—Well, I did.

She dropped the file back on the table, the slap of paper punctuating the stillness. Her eyes met his -calm, but burning underneath.

—I want in.

San straightened slowly.

—Y/n, I told you, you already are. The moment you came into my life…

She shook her head, stalking closer, the hem of his shirt brushing her thighs, her voice low and deliberate.

—No, San. I mean deep. Give me something real. A target. A name. A job.

He stared at her. Silent. Reading her.

—You think this is a game, don’t you? —he said finally— This isn't chess. There are no clean moves. Once you're in, there's no getting out.

—Maybe I don't want a way out.

—You think I'd put your blood on my hands?

—You think it's not already there? —she tilted her head— I'm already in, whether you like it or not. The difference is the way I participate. I can be inside and be a worry, or I can be inside and be of help.

San didn't answer. He just looked at her, really looked at her. Barefoot, hair wild, standing in the middle of a war room like she'd been born there. He knew he should say no, but she wasn't backing down. And deep down, he didn't want her to.

—You want a name? —he asked.

She nodded once.

He turned to the table, reached for a separate folder, sealed with a red clip. Unfastened it slowly. Pulled a single page from the middle, and handed it to her. Y/n took it without flinching.

The name was printed in bold.

Park Seonghwa. Senior advisor to one of her company’s oldest clients. Charming. Polished. And apparently, a ghost in San's files.

—Start with him —San said, voice cold—. He's cleaner than the others. Harder to trace. He launders the money, ties the corporations to the blood.

Y/n stared at the name, then looked up at him.

—Do I talk to him?

San's eyes glinted.

—You watch him. You're an expert on that —he smirked.

She smiled, folding the page in half.

—I'll need something to wear.

That earned a dry chuckle from him. low and dangerous.

—I'll burn the shirt off you myself if you keep looking at me like that.

Y/n stepped back, still smiling, paper tucked under her arm like a weapon.

—Promise?

And just like that, the deal was sealed. Not with blood, but with fire.

It was night when they found him.

The warehouse was silent, drowned in the thick scent of oil and dust, the occasional drip of water echoing like a clock counting down. The only light came from a swinging bulb above, casting harsh shadows across the floor.

The door had been forced open. One of San's men had called it in with a clipped voice.

—You need to see this for yourself.

So they came.

San walked ahead, gun holstered but fingers twitching. Y/n followed, not far behind, dressed sharp now -dark pants, fitted blazer, and no trace of hesitation in her steps. Her heels echoed with quiet command, each one a drumbeat leading toward something inevitable.

And then they saw him.

Or... what was left.

The man, Isham, one of San's informants, the one who'd gone dark two nights ago, was tied to a rusted chair in the center of the warehouse. Head slumped forward. Chest carved with symbols Y/n didn't recognize, but San did.

Blood dried black along his collar. His hands were missing. Y/n didn't flinch. San didn't speak.

But both of them felt it, the shift.

It wasn't random. It was personal.

San stepped closer, gaze sharp. He didn't reach for the body. Just stared. And then, his brow furrowed.

Something was shoved into the man's mouth.

He crouched and, with gloved fingers, pulled it free. A single, gleaming bullet casing. Engraved with delicate, looping letters: Y/n's initials.

The air thickened.

Y/n stepped forward, calm as glass. She looked at the casing, then at the body. Then at San. His jaw was locked tight, something savage burning behind his eyes. It wasn't rage. Not yet.

It was calculation.

Y/n, voice low and razor-sharp, broke the silence.

—Looks like they want to play.

San's stare didn't leave the bullet. He straightened slowly, voice like steel wrapped in velvet.

—Then we'll give them war.

And in that moment, with blood at their feet and names carved into metal, the lines between protection and vengeance disappeared.

The game had changed, and they were done playing.

He was already dangerous, but he was about to become psychotic after Y/n came into play. He'd make whoever attempted against her safety regret ever messing with her. 

Taglist: @a-tiny-thing , @brown88

[armpirate]

Until You're Mine || Choi San | Ch. 25

MASTERLIST Previous || Next

Pairings: Mafia!San x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, obsession, mafia love

Warnings: dom!San, sub!reader, explicit language, mention of drug and guns, violence, rough sex.

Summary: San, a notorious and feared mafia boss, has always lived in the shadows of power and violence. When an ambush leaves him wounded and on the run, he finds refuge in an empty event hall. Inside, Y/n, a rising star in the world of event planning, is nursing her own wounds -a career on the line after a confrontation with a powerful client. The last thing she expects is for her night to take a dark turn when San stumbles into her life, bloodied and dangerous.

Despite the fear and uncertainty, Y/n can't turn away. She helps him clean up, binding more than just his wounds in the process. What begins as an intense, chance encounter spirals into a dangerous obsession. San, used to being the hunter, becomes fixated on the one woman who dared to help him, even in his darkest moment. Meanwhile, Y/n, caught in the mystery of that powerful man, finds herself tracking his every move, unable to shake the dangerous allure of his world.

Neither knows that their fascination with each other is mutual. In a city teeming with danger, power, and deceit, their secret obsessions will pull them deeper into a deadly game -one where love, power, and obsession intertwine, and nothing is as it seems.

Chapter duration: 17 minutes

The morning light crept in like a guilty secret. It filtered through the thin curtains of the bedroom -soft and golden, stretching in quiet beams across the hardwood floor and the edge of the bed where she still lay. Her skin, kissed by faint bruises and the ghost of last night's intensity, glowed in the warmth. San sat against the headboard, shirtless, knees bent, a cigarette long gone cold between his fingers.

He hadn't slept. Not really.

He'd watched her instead -watched the rise and fall of her chest, the way her mouth twitched faintly in dreams. Watched the curve of her back, how it curled toward his side like her body still trusted him even if her heart might not.

His jaw clenched.

She let him stay. After all, she allowed him to remain by her side.

Not because he deserved it, but because something between them still refused to die. Something just as volatile and violent as the reasons they kept tearing each other apart in the first place.

Y/n stirred, lashes fluttering like wings brushing off sleep. Her brows knit for a second -sore, maybe. Then she blinked slowly, meeting his gaze without a word. Silence lingered like smoke.

San looked away first.

—You're awake —her voice came out hoarse.

—Barely.

He nodded once, lips pressing into a line. A full minute passed before she shifted to sit up, pulling the sheet with her out of modesty, or distance.

—I didn't mean for last night to happen like that —he said quietly—. I didn't mean to lose it, or to speak to you the way I did.

Her eyes flicked to him, sharp, unreadable.

—But you did.

—I know —his voice was rough, almost tender—. I just… —he sighed, the words not finding their way out of his throat.

Y/n didn't speak right away. She pulled her knees up under the sheets, arms around them, the silence between them weighted and fragile. Then, barely above a whisper, San said:

—Do you ever wonder if we'd be better if we weren't so alike?

That made her look at him.

He wasn't being cruel, or calculated. He was just being honest. Exhausted. Almost human.

Her gaze softened, but her words still cut.

—You mean if one of us didn't know how to play the game?

—No —he murmured—. I mean if one of us didn't crave the danger.

—It's not the danger I crave, San —Y/n exhaled slowly, staring at her hands.

—Then what? —his head tilted slightly.

She met his eyes again, and for a second, he saw it: something rawer than hate, deeper than lust. Loneliness. His, reflected in hers.

—I crave the feeling that someone would burn the world down just to keep me —she said—. And sometimes, you make me believe you already have.

San looked down, expression unreadable, thumb brushing absently across the rings on his fingers.

—I'd burn more than that.

—I know.

Another beat of silence.

—You scare me sometimes —she added, voice lower now—. Not because I think you'd hurt me. But because I think you'd do anything but that. It also scares me how I don't feel like myself sometimes. And I don't know what kind of damage that kind of love does to a person.

San shifted closer, his voice just above a whisper.

—What if we're already damaged?

—Then we ruin each other —Y/n smiled faintly. Bitter. Beautiful— or save each other.

San leaned in then, brushing his fingers along her jaw like she might vanish if he didn't anchor her. He didn't kiss her, just held her there.

—I don't want to lose you —he said.

—I know.

She didn't promise he wouldn't, but she didn't pull away either. Because, as long as it was her choice, she wouldn't leave.

Her breath lingered between them. San's hand hovered near her face, knuckles brushing her cheek like he was still debating whether he had the right to touch her. Y/n didn't move -not away, not closer. Just watched him with those sharp eyes that always saw too much.

—You don't want to lose me —she murmured—, but you keep making choices like you're close to.

That one hit deep.

San didn't flinch, but the way his throat worked -swallowing the words he couldn't say- was answer enough.

Still, he leaned in.

There was no grand gesture. No rough claim or demanding hunger. Just the quiet press of his forehead against hers, like he was grounding himself in her presence.

—You think I don't know that? —he whispered— I'm just trying to hold on in the only way I know how.

Y/n let her eyes close, and then his lips touched hers. Soft. Careful. Almost unsure. It wasn't how San usually kissed her -full of dominance, hunger, the need to remind her who she belonged to. This one was slower. Like he was asking instead of taking. Like if she pulled away now, he wouldn't chase, he'd just accept the loss.

Her fingers curled into the sheets. And then they lifted, lightly clutching his bare shoulder, pulling him in as she kissed him back.

It deepened. Not wild, not desperate, just honest. Tender in a way that scared both of them more than violence ever had.

His hand slid to the back of her neck, cradling her like she was something precious. She exhaled into him, tension slipping from her spine, her lips parting just enough for him to sigh against her mouth.

All paradise gets a pause at some point, and theirs started when a sound from the nightstand broke the silence.

San tensed.

The phone buzzed again on the nightstand. He didn't break the kiss right away -just froze, mouth still on hers, teeth grazing her bottom lip like it physically hurt to stop.

Another buzz.

Y/n pulled back first, breath warm between them.

—It's okay —she said, trying not to sound disappointed—. Answer it.

San stayed close for one more heartbeat, like he might ignore it after all. He was really thinking whatever it was could wait a few more minutes, or hours.

But the buzz contradicted him.

—Shit —he muttered, finally reaching over.

One glance at the screen, and his entire posture shifted.

Mingi.

San sat up straighter, wiping a hand down his face before answering.

—Yeah?

Mingi's voice crackled through the speaker, tense and clipped.

—You need to come as soon as possible.

San went still.

—What happened?

—It's Jongho.

San straightened, instantly alert.

—What about him?

—We found something. A trail he didn't wipe clean enough. Yunho's tearing through the metadata now, but we've got proof this time: real connections, timestamps, the kind of shit we can't ignore.

A pause.

—He's not just hiding something. He's playing us. And I think he's getting ready to run.

San's eyes narrowed. Cold calculation settled into his bones, replacing whatever softness had still lingered from the kiss.

—Where are you?

—Safehouse two. The one under the dry cleaner.

—I'm on my way.

The call ended with a click.

He sat still for a second, eyes on the far wall, his pulse already racing toward a darker rhythm. The pieces were finally starting to move -answers slipping into reach after weeks of tension, suspicion, and dead ends.

Y/n shifted beside him, the sheet clutched loosely around her.

—So?

San looked at her, gaze unreadable.

—They found a hole in his cover. Jongho's not just lying, he's aligning himself with someone else. And now they know we're close.

She absorbed that in silence, the weight of it sinking into the space between them. San stood, pacing for a beat as he grabbed his shirt and shrugged it on. Every muscle in his body had gone taut again -no longer a lover in the afterglow but a man stepping back into the role of a king under siege.

He turned toward her, half-dressed, one hand dragging through his hair.

—I don't want you near him. Not until we're sure what he's doing, and who he's doing it for. Although we already suspect who it might be.

Y/n rose from the bed, walking slowly toward him.

—So, what if we are right and he's siding with Hongjoong?

His mouth twitched -not quite a smirk, not quite regret.

—It's still better news than to think he's helping someone else. I'm okay with problems coming one at a time.

For a second, he reached out like he might touch her again, but the moment faltered.

—I'll text when I can. Lock the door.

—San.

He turned. She stepped close, grabbed the collar of his jacket, and pulled him down into a kiss. This one wasn't soft, it wasn't gentle. It was a promise written in blood and fire -come back. His hands slid around her waist, tightening like he didn't want to let go, but he had to. They both knew it. He broke the kiss with a breath against her lips.

—Don't trust anyone. Not even Jongho. Especially not him.

Then he was gone.

And all that remained was the aftertaste of truth beginning to surface, and the big question of what she was going to do with it. Meanwhile, San drove, impatient, angry… and more importantly, worried.

The air outside was cold with city fog, but the safehouse under the dry cleaner was stifling.

San descended the back staircase quickly, his boots thudding against the hollow steps. The moment he stepped into the concrete-walled room, the mood shifted: thick with adrenaline, silence, and unspoken feeling of betrayal.

Mingi looked up from where he stood, arms crossed, a laptop balanced on a folding table beside him, his jaw was set. Wooyoung leaned against the far wall, chewing the inside of his cheek, tension written across his eyes. And Yunho was hunched over the screen, typing fast, eyes flickering under the glow.

San didn't waste a second.

—What did you find?

—A name —Yunho didn't look up—. A location. And three payments wired to a burner account that matches Jongho's known alias from before he joined us.

San stepped closer.

—You're sure it's him?

Mingi scoffed, flipping a tablet around and shoving it into his chest.

—Facial ID scan from a security feed in Prague, last month. He thought bouncing through old tunnels meant no cameras, but guess what: European customs upgraded.

On the screen: grainy but clear, Jongho, hood up, speaking to a man with a blurred face. Time-stamped, geo-tagged, and matched against a known corridor used by data smugglers and rogue ex-agents. The footage had already been slowed and zoomed by Yunho's meticulous hand.

San stared at it for a beat too long. Yunho's voice cut through the silence.

—That's not the worst of it.

San looked up.

—We traced the IP that pinged Derek's voicemail system two nights before he died. It wasn't from Seonghwa, or Hongjoong. It wasn't from Y/n either. It wasn't from any of the people we suspected.

Yunho's fingers stilled on the keys.

—It came from a secondary relay owned by us. Jongho's access code.

Wooyoung's tone was grim as he added:

—He left the door open. He let someone else find us.

San didn't blink. Didn't curse. Didn't move. He just… froze. A different kind of stillness, the kind that only comes before destruction.

Mingi broke the silence.

—So what do we do?

San lowered the tablet, his voice was low and quiet, calm in the way storms are just before they flatten cities.

—First, confirm who he's working with. No place for assumptions. Then we make sure he never gets the chance to run.

He turned toward Yunho.

—Where is he now?

—Still offline. He must know he's being watched. He probably didn't expect Y/n at the gala to catch him. But he's sloppy now. Nervous.

San nodded once, sharply.

—Track his last physical location. Don't ping him. Don't spook him. I want eyes, not a body bag. Not yet.

He grabbed a pen and scrawled a number onto a scrap of paper.

—I'll contact someone outside the circle. Someone Jongho doesn't know we're still in touch with. If he's planning an exit, we'll know by tonight.

Wooyoung finally looked up.

—And if it's someone from inside that he's getting help from?

San didn't hesitate.

—Then we burn the rot out. All of it.

Silence fell again -not uneasy but expectant.

Because they all knew: This wasn't just about Jongho anymore. This was about the whole foundation starting to crack.

The room had cleared out hours ago, but San hadn't moved. He sat on the edge of the table, one hand pressed to his jaw, thumb grazing the corner of his mouth in a motion so absent, so unlike him, it would've worried anyone watching.

The screen in front of him still played that same thirty-second clip of Jongho on loop.

He had memorized every frame.

The way Jongho looked over his shoulder, how he didn't speak until the other man spoke first, the slight nod -too familiar, too easy, as if it wasn't the first time they'd met.

As if Jongho trusted him.

San's stomach turned.

He wasn't angry, not yet. Anger was clean -blistering, bright, useful-, but this… this was worse. This was the dull, low ache of doubt. The kind that seeped under your skin and stayed there, whispering "What else don't you know? Who else is lying?"

He pressed the spacebar, freezing Jongho's face mid-turn.

—You were just a kid when I brought you in —San muttered under his breath—. The amount of times I had trusted you.

And that was the fucking problem.

He hadn't questioned him. He hadn't questioned any of them in years -not Yunho, not Mingi, not Wooyoung. They were his family, his second skin. They bled together, killed together, covered for one another so deeply that even the word loyalty felt too small for what they were.

But now?

Now, Hongjoong's name was resurfacing like a curse. And Jongho wasn't just a weak link -he could be the bridge.

San stood abruptly, pacing, every step echoing in the empty room.

If Hongjoong was pulling strings from the shadows again… this wasn't just betrayal. It was a war. And the battlefield was already halfway inside his walls.

He stopped in front of the window, pressing both palms to the frame, forehead against cold glass. His reflection stared back at him, pale and drawn, with something ancient flickering behind the eyes.

Not fear.

Not regret.

Calculation.

Because there was no clean way out of that now. No scenario where everyone he cared about made it through.

He would have to choose -who to cut loose, and who to keep close. Even if the wrong choice killed him. Even if the right one meant hurting someone who had once called him hyung.

Behind him, the door creaked open.

Yunho's voice came softly.

—You haven't left since we got the footage.

San didn't turn around.

—I know.

Yunho waited for a beat.

—I double-checked the logs. Mingi's checking the Prague connection, but there's another relay that might've been triggered… in Seoul.

That made San shift. His eyes narrowed.

—Seoul?

Yunho stepped closer, lowering his voice.

—And someone pinged one of Hongjoong's old safehouse aliases through an encrypted network that only someone on the inside could've known about.

San finally turned.

—Are you saying it's not just Jongho?

Yunho hesitated.

—I'm saying… we don't know how deep this goes. Yet.

And there it was again. That crack in the ground, spreading under San's feet. He felt it: the trap tightening around him, not from enemies out there but from ghosts inside the walls.

San didn't return home until after midnight.

The house was quiet, lights dimmed. Only the low hum of the fridge and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall reminded him that time still moved, even as everything else stood still.

She was on the couch.

Curled up in one of his sweatshirts, half-asleep, a book folded over her chest.

He should have smiled. Should have walked over, touched her cheek, whispered something soft just to feel her stir under the sound of his voice. But he didn't. He stood in the doorway and watched her like a stranger in his own home.

So peaceful.

So unguarded.

And utterly exposed.

San's jaw tensed as the thoughts came, quiet but relentless:

"What if they come here?"

"What if she's followed?"

"What if she's already been watched, and I don't even know it?"

He took a breath and stepped closer, keeping it quiet. She stirred as he knelt beside her. Her eyes fluttered open, soft and dazed.

—San?

—Yeah —he smiled faintly, brushing his thumb under her eye—. Go back to sleep.

—You're late —she mumbled.

—I know.

—You smell like gunpowder.

His fingers paused on her skin.

—Do I?

She nodded, then curled into him, as if it didn't matter. As if this -his danger, his life, his scent soaked in violence- was something she had already accepted.

And maybe that was the problem.

She had never asked him to change, never tried to fix him. She just let him be what he was, and trusted he'd protect her through it all.

But now?

Now he wasn't sure he could.

San wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close, but his mind was nowhere near the softness of her body against his. He was thinking of Yunho's voice in his ear, saying how neither of them knew how serious it all really was. His head could only focus on Jongho's face on that surveillance feed, the fact that Y/n wasn't part of this world, not really -but she'd still bleed like she was.

She whispered something then -soft, sleepy.

—Did you find anything out?

San blinked, unsure of how to answer.

Because he hadn't lost. Not yet.

But it didn't feel like he was any closer to finding out the truth, or even a small hint.

—Not yet —he simply whispered, brushing his fingers over the curve of her shoulder.

He was trying to calm her down, although in reality he was trying to calm himself down. She shifted, sensing the heaviness in his tone.

Her fingers found his.

—What happened?

He almost told her. Almost confessed that the boy he once trusted like a brother might be the one helping Hongjoong burn them from the inside out. But he didn't. Because if he said it out loud, she'd see it. She'd understand that the ground beneath their feet was about to give way -and that the only way to save her might be to cut her loose.

San kissed her forehead gently, lips lingering too long. He didn't say it, but the words were already forming like ghosts in the back of his mind: "You deserve to be safe from me."

—Is something wrong? —she finally asked.

He wanted to lie, say no. But he couldn't do it that night.

San walked to the edge of the bed and sat, elbows on his knees, head bowed. Y/n sat up as well, her eyes never leaving him.

—San?

Silence.

He didn't lift his head. He just said it.

—This can't go on.

A beat of silence stretched between them.

—What? —her voice barely rose above a whisper, the word too small for what she'd just heard.

He forced himself to speak the rest.

—It's not safe for you anymore. I thought I could keep you outside of it. That I could build something clean with you while everything else burned. But I can't. It's already touching you.

Her breath caught, but she didn't interrupt.

—My people are falling apart —San went on, voice growing hoarse—. Jongho might be working with Hongjoong. I don't even know if I can trust the rest. And you… —he finally looked at her—. You're the only thing I can't afford to lose. Which is exactly why I have to let you go.

Y/n stared at him for a long moment, blinking slowly.

—You're not serious.

He didn't reply.

—You're tired. You're scared. That's all this is. You're saying things you'll take back in the morning…

—I won't —he hated the way it sounded, like steel slamming down between them.

She sat up straighter.

—San. Stop. You're spiraling…

—I'm being realistic —his voice was quiet but resolute—. And I'm choosing you. Even if it means you hate me for it.

Y/n stared at him like she didn't know who he was anymore. Her breath started to shake, but she fought to keep her voice level.

—You don't get to decide that for me.

—I do when it's my life that's endangering yours.

—That's always been the deal. Fuck. I told you I'm in! You don't get to suddenly pretend this is about protecting me… this is about punishing yourself.

He closed his eyes. She was right, of course she was. But he couldn't afford to change his mind now.

Y/n slid off the bed and stood in front of him, angry tears starting to well.

—Look at me.

He didn't. So she grabbed his face, forcing it up.

—Look at me, San.

He did. And it nearly broke him. Her voice cracked.

—You say you're doing this to protect me, but you're not. You're just afraid. Of what it means to love someone enough to let them stay. You think you can't trust anyone, so you're breaking any links.

—I'm saying this because you're a bigger problem than what I have going on. You're a distraction, Y/n. I have enough with everything going on to be worrying about your protection and the fact that you'll always try to act on your own.

Something that seemed like a strength was the biggest weakness. Sometimes he'd have rathered her to be the scared type of girl who closed herself at home and didn't get herself involved in problems, in his life. But she wasn't that type, and it meant she was at an even bigger risk.

His hands reached for her waist without meaning to. She let him hold her, thinking his words were only caused by the heat of the moment.

For a moment, they were just breathing, their foreheads touching, the silence between them louder than any scream. Then she kissed him. Desperately. Like maybe if she gave him enough of her body, he'd forget what his mouth had just said. And he kissed her back, but then he pulled away—slowly, as if detaching from oxygen itself.

—I'm sorry —he whispered—. I can't let you die because of me.

She slapped his chest, hard. Then again. And again.

—You don't get to leave me like this —she choked out, voice raw now—. You don't get to destroy me and call it love.

His face crumpled, but he didn't move.

—I never asked you to protect me, San.

—I know —he said—. But that's exactly why I have to.

He walked out that night. And this time, he didn't look back.

Taglist: @a-tiny-thing , @brown88

[armpirate]

Indelible memories || Choi San

Bf experience

pairing: Idol!Choi San x fem!reader

w.c.: 7.1k

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, vanilla sex, musical tantric sex, masturbation (female and male receiving), protected sex, teasing, dirty talk. (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content).

Summary: It's your last week in Seoul, and your boyfriend has assured you you will remember every bit you spend together until you leave.

Aprox. time of reading: 30 minutes

MASTERLIST

I used a scene from a book by Megan Maxwell to inspire the smut. So, if it rings a bell for you, you already know why!

Boyfriend experience

Wednesday

The weight of your boyfriend's head on your shoulder made you quickly turn to him, finding him with his eyes half closed as he fought with his life to keep them open. He quickly made the attempt to sit straight, but his head didn't take long to start falling to the side softly as his eyes slowly closed at the same time, just to suddenly open when he was aware of how his body was leaning to the front a bit faster the deeper he fell asleep.

He was trying his best to stay awake, only because you wanted to watch that movie with him.

"Babe, let's go to sleep" you tried to convince him for the third time that night.

"Why? I'm awake" San insisted, making an effort to show off how he wasn't tired, although his puffy eyelids and the small marked circles underneath his eyes made it obvious enough for you. "Let's keep watching the movie".

You knew where all that stubbornness was coming from. And you also knew there would be no way to get San to change his mind after he convinced himself he'd be able to stay awake, although he hadn't been able to sleep properly for the past two days. He finally had a few days to get some rest, as his schedules cleared up a bit after coming and going to different places, but he kept pushing himself to the edge.

After you had gone forward with the promotion, San promised you he'd spend that last week with you as if nothing else mattered. In any other circumstance, he'd just agree with you on meeting on a different day if he felt his body wasn't going to handle it, but those last days he didn't care about it. He'd even crawl to your place if that meant he'd get to be with you as much as possible.

He just didn't want to regret not spending as much time as he could once you were gone.

His arm wrapped around you, changing the position of your bodies so you'd be lying on his side, while he leaned his body a bit more onto the armrest, to get his head to find some support in the palm of his hand.

That position was the killing shot for him. After fifteen minutes, you managed to look at him over his shoulder, finding him completely knocked out. His arm was stretched over the armrest, and his head had fallen over his bicep, his eyes were closed and his lips slightly parted as he finally allowed his body to get that well-deserved sleep.

"Love, let's go to sleep" you insisted again.

You didn't want to wake him up, but you also didn't want him to sleep in such an uncomfortable position.

"Stay here" he mumbled. "I don't want you to go".

You'd have thought he was awake, but the way his words sounded sloppy while being dragged with his tongue, and how he licked his lips to moisten them to proceed to close his mouth and keep sleeping, told you he was indeed asleep.

Hearing those words from him only made sense if he was asleep. And that, somehow, hurted you even more, because he hated the idea of you leaving as much as you did, but he still put on a facade, hiding his feelings so you wouldn't feel discouraged to do it. It made your heart ache to think that he believed he had to hold it in for you.

That night you curled up to him tighter than ever, not wanting to let go of him and everything that he meant for you.

Thursday

His hand was squeezing yours as you walked down the street. San picked you up at home, changing your plans last minute because he came up with a surprise out of nowhere, which he tried to avoid telling you about so he wouldn't ruin it. And you could tell he had most definitely avoided giving in to your interrogation tactics by avoiding speaking at all, with the only exception of telling you to hurry up or follow him.

Until he stopped in front of a closed establishment. You didn't know why you were there. The inside was dark, you could barely see further than what the lights of the street allowed you to.

"We shouldn't be doing this" you tried to stop him, holding onto his sleeve when he pulled the door open.

With everything that was going on in your lives, the last thing you needed was to have him involved in a scandal after breaking into someone else's establishment.

Your grip on the sleeve of his sweater got tighter when he stepped inside, waiting for you to do the same "If someone catches us..."

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course, but..." before you could go on to point out the several reasons why you shouldn't be taking a step inside, San threw the most convincing tone you could've ever heard with those three words.

"Then follow me" he gently got rid of your grip, moving his right arm only so he could offer his left hand for you to hold it.

Even in that dim space, and only lightened up by the street lamps, you were able to see the way his eyes shined as he offered his hand to you, and it took you less than a second to hold it.

After he closed the main door behind you, and started walking among the darkness, only guided by some shadows on the floor, you were expecting for the alarm to blast at any point. All that nervousness was left behind after he crossed another door, leading up to a completely lightened up room, where there was an old lady sitting at one side of the table positioned in the middle of the room.

She quickly stood up and bowed to you two, getting the same greeting as an answer, although yours was a hesitant move, still unsure of what you were doing there, and why that lady with a brown apron seemed to be waiting for you.

"You've always wanted to do this" he started explaining, picking up one of the aprons hanging on the backrest of one of the chairs. "But for obvious reasons we couldn't" he sighed, stepping in front of you, "I managed to find a way to do it... Well, actually, Yunho did" his voice sound so soft as he explained himself, carefully moving around you to place the apron over your clothes. "Her daughter is a fan".

"What did you promise her?" you asked in a whisper.

"Free tickets for the concert, in exchange of keeping it hush hush from her daughter and sns" San answered in the same tone. "And maybe ten photocards signed by Hongjoong, but we'll worry about that another day".

The whole process of creating couple rings right from the start was something new and fun, but there was something so meaningful about it. Because it wasn't only the objects, it was how San pouted whenever he missed something, or the way the tip of your tongue stuck out when you were focused on engraving your initials together on the inside, or your laughs when San gasped when the old lady used the blowtorch to give shape to San's ring, or the way you exchanged looks whenever you had the chance. It was all of you and your feelings in those rings.

"This is so you don't forget who you belong to" he mentioned with a serious look, lifting your done ring in the air.

"As if I was thinking about that" you challenged him, letting him place the ring on your ring finger. "You'll be hearing more from me in Seattle than now".

"I hope so" he nodded, handing his ring to you so you'd put it on him the same way he did to you. Your thumb gently caressed his finger, letting out a sad smile take over your face.

There was something you wanted to ask, but you didn't dare to question out loud until you finally left the store with your new rings.

"Do you really want me to go?" the question came out so suddenly, and so out of nowhere after a few minutes, that it took San by surprise, not sure of why you were asking that.

"Is that a tricky question?" his eyes squinted

He left in the morning before you could even talk with him about what he mumbled in his sleep, and he dragged you out of home so fast that you barely had time to talk until you arrived at that shop.

"You've said what I wanted to hear, or what you think I want to hear ever since I told you. But I want to know what you really think, and what you really want. If you don't want me to leave, I can give up on..."

"Give up? Hey" his eyebrows were slightly furrowed at even the idea of you rejecting that opportunity for him. "You think it'd make me happy to see you turn down that offer because I said so? If we weren't together, you'd be thrilled for that promotion and you wouldn't have thought about it twice" your lips were pressed together when he described that reality. "Of course I don't want you to leave. I'd be tied at your hip if I could. But I also understand I can't push you back. You've always been supportive, and molding to my schedules and my life. And it's about time I do the same for you. I've always said you're my main priority, and your happiness takes part in that" his eyes were fixed on yours, although a few times they always ended up moving somewhere else in the street. "This will be a phase, to make us stronger" he assured you, cupping your cheeks, "We should take it as a long ass tour. We'll be back to each other before we can even think about it. Until that time comes, let's just enjoy this week together, hmm?".

Your arms wrapped around his body like that was the only place you wanted to be glued to, hiding your face on his chest while he completely covered your body in a big hug

Friday

You didn't think there was something weird with the way your boyfriend was dressed, with those unusual black baggy pants and oversized t-shirt, with his head being completely covered by a bucket hat and some random drawings covering his arms -until the edge of his sleeve- with black ink.

"Are those tattoos?" you finally asked in the car, moving your fingers over his skin to try to check what they were.

"Don't do that. It tickles" he moved his arm slightly, smiling before he answered. "They're fake. One of the stylists had it for a video performance, but we never ended up using it, so I asked him and he gave it to me to use today".

"Now that we're on it: aren't you supposed to be rehearsing right now?" your eyes squinted as you interrogated him.

San just shrugged, nodding at the same time he let you know he just didn't care "It's your last week. Yesterday I already spent way too much time outside, and I even fell asleep on Wednesday. The boys understood, so it should be alright" a low sigh announced the continuation of his explanation "It'll be just five days".

As he stopped the car, it made sense for you why he suddenly changed the way he dressed, or why he added those fake tattoos over his body. He wanted to be with you out in the open.

"I mean, it's a bit more effort than those celebs who think it's all done with a cap and shades" you pulled from the visor of his hat, making him whine and move your hands away.

"I also have a mask, so when I take off the hat in the attraction, they won't see my full face" he explained.

"Wouldn't that drag more attention on you?"

"That's why I'm using the tattoos" he explained as if it were obvious. "If someone thinks I'm famous, they'll check the tattoos and move on".

"It's concerning how much you've thought about this".

You were teasing him, and he knew it by the funny smile you had on your face before you started walking to the entrance. San moved fast though, intertwining your fingers together, holding your hand like he was going to do for the rest of the day.

Saturday

Another gasp came out with some splash from the water as you sank his arm into the sink filled with warm water. After his idea of disguising as someone else in the theme park turned out well, or so you thought, San found the rest of the morning trying to get rid of the fake tattoos with no luck.

"What the hell is this tattoo made of?" you kept rubbing the sponge on his skin. "I bet a real tattoo would be easier to erase than this".

"Today is the party, I can't show up like this" he complained.

"What party?" you suddenly stopped after what he said, looking up to him.

His eyes momentarily went big, quickly avoiding yours and concentrating back in his arm. "Party? What party?".

"You said today is the party" the emphasis on each word fell on San's back like a heavy bag.

He ruined the surprise, after he had told everyone to keep it quiet for you.

"I organized a party for you" he sighed, almost moving his arms out of the sink, but being kept from doing it by your hand holding tight on his upper arm. "I wanted you to take a good memory to Seattle, I invited some of our friends, the boys, even my parents are going to come... I told everyone not to tell you".

You could tell how disappointed he was at himself for ruining the surprise so easily, after all the effort he had put in it and keeping it a secret since he started preparing it.

"I'll pretend I'm surprised for you" you assured him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Now we really need to get rid of this".

Sunday

You were used to San spoiling you, but so much and so many days in a row? It felt like you were in paradise. You had been telling him constantly he didn't need to do all of that, you tried to assure him it was enough with just having him around, especially after how tired he probably was after the previous night's party.

Yet there he was. Whenever you needed something, he brought it to you. Whenever you were hungry, he prepared something for you. And whenever you wanted to do something, he'd agree without a single trail of doubt.

"I can't enjoy it" your head shook, as your eyebrows furrowed and your lips grimaced when you won the game.

"You literally humiliated me. I've never had such a bad time playing Monopoly".

"How do I know you didn't let me win?"

"Are you kidding?" he pointed to the board, "I even bought the blue ones, but you didn't fall on them a single time. We should've stopped playing after I gave you two of my properties" teasingly, he threw the fake money.

"What can I say? I'm good with business".

Your smile made him forget about everything he was complaining about, feeling happy and in the right place just by seeing those wrinkles in the corners of your eyes as your lips curved up with pride. Whatever happened, however that new experience turned out, he was sure he'd do everything in his hand to keep you smiling that way. Thinking about having to see that smile through a screen was something that killed him the few months he left for a concert, but it always made him feel better to know he'd see it in person after a short while, but now you both were entering that difficult phase where neither of you knew when would be the next time you'll be together like that, without worrying about taking a flight back home, because you two were in the same place together.

You had started picking up all the pieces to put them inside the box when he said: "Are you good at dancing, too?".

"You know I'm not" you chuckled, resting your hands at the edge of the small table.

San seemed to ignore your answer, because he got up from the floor either way and reached his hand to you, waiting for you to take it. You were still as confused, but it didn't stop you from taking his hand and standing in front of him, allowing him to guide you to one side of the living room.

"So suddenly?" you asked when his hand moved to your waist.

It wasn't like that was one thing out of the ordinary. Your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic, and whatever idea that could make him feel like he was in a movie, he'd do it without thinking about it twice. And you always followed along, feeling full with those small gestures, because there wasn't anything more meaningful than those bright eyes looking down at you as if you were the most important in the world, while he guided your body with gentle moves.

Your cheek rested over your hand on his shoulder, while your nose rubbed a few times against his neck, trying to memorize his smell as well as you could.

"Did you improve your dancing skills?" he teased you, speaking before you could remind him of the pain he was trying to leave aside. "You haven't stepped on me yet".

"Is that an invitation for me to do it?".

San simply smiled, leaning over to link your lips together as you kept turning slowly on your feet. There was no music, but it was the best dance he had done in a long time.

Monday

"Three kids" he quickly said, finishing his map.

At that time, you were regretting ever teaching him that random game a few weeks back when you were bored. Every few seconds, he'd break the silence and lift his head to look at you over the folds of your t-shirt, momentarily freeing you from the weight of it on your chest.

"Three kids... Are you insane?" you took the notebook away from him.

Where there should be the three crushes' names, he had put: dog, cat, other. Looking below, you could see how excitedly he had encircled the number three, related to the number of kids he would have, and even lower, he had written three different professions: singer, writer, personal trainer.

"Why did you even include writer? You don't ever let anyone read your poems"

"Now I'm an idol, nobody should be allowed to read them"

And he did really mean it. Nobody, not even you, had ever read one of his poems.

"And personal trainer?" you chuckled.

"I didn't know what else to put there" he excused himself. "It was the first to go, luckily. It isn't meant to happen".

"Hey, in the location you didn't even write real places: Y/n's heart, my heart, anywhere... This is cheesy even for me" San snatched the notebook from your hands, giving it another read.

"I didn't want to put a real place" he shrugged. "Wherever it is, it's not important. What matters is that we're together" his tone quickly changed as he focused on another part of the game. "We'll get married in five years, right after I return from military service. Hmm, here it says it'll be in winter, but we could ignore it and get married in spring".

"Yeah, that sounds better" you nodded, playing along. "Hmm, I've always thought of getting married out in the open, with a cute dress with my shoulders exposed. I can't do that in winter".

"Why don't you do it and see what turns out?".

You'd have liked to pretend you didn't want to do it, but just the idea of planning your future together sounded exciting and tempting itself. It was a conversation you had a few times already, although it never seemed as serious as that evening.

It almost sounded like a promise between you two.

The smile on your face couldn't be hidden as you quickly sat up, starting to write all those details in a whole new sheet.

Tuesday

"I don't get why we're doing this" he complained, surrounding the bed with deep steps until he was standing on the side opposite to yours.

"Because you said you wanted us to remember this night for a long time" you giggled, quoting him a few minutes back when he was kissing you while you were on top of him. "And we will" you assured him.

"Yes, I'll remember this as the night my girlfriend..."

"Are you complaining?" you warned him, lifting your index in his direction, "Because you said you'd do everything I wanted to do on our last night". A click of tongue confirmed you were starting to get annoyed "Don't you trust me?"

"I do" by the way his lips opened again right after, you were sure he was about to speak, but you interrupted him before he could.

"Then choose three songs. The sexiest songs you can come up with" he sighed, finally giving in and picking his phone out of his pocket to look for the songs that could fit the mood you wanted to build.

He just couldn't resist you whenever you came up with an idea, it was so special whenever you confessed what you wanted to do. It showed how deep the trust was between you two, how your relationship was so safe in every aspect, that he only wanted to build it stronger. So San chose those three songs carefully, scrolling through his general playlist until he found them.

When he turned to you again, your lip was trapped under your upper teeth, and your gaze was eager for more than just him. San left his phone over the nightstand, following your guidance before you told him to get naked together, where you were standing in that moment, working on your respective clothings until you were completely naked in front of one another, with a distance that seemed like kilometers.

The hairs in your body raised as he scanned your naked body among the darkness, delicately looking at you from head to where the edge of the bed allowed him to see. And you did the same, making him feel suddenly nervous and exposed for the first time in those almost two years of relationship.

Under your guidance, he sat in the middle of the bed, following your movements while you crawled over the mattress to where he was, only moving away from him to pick up the phone.

"We can't speak and we can't touch each other while the first song plays" you warned him.

"What do you mean I can't touch you?" he whined as you joined him in the middle of the bed, placing your legs around his waist.

"You can't" you firmly shook your head. "If you do, I'll replay the song. When the second one starts, we'll be able to touch each other, kiss and speak. And, with the third one, everything will be allowed. Got it?".

Aware that you were waiting for him to answer, he nodded "Got it".

After he nodded for one last time, you finally clicked on the play button. Just a second later, a slow and sensual bhangra melody filled the room, covering your heavy breathing. You had to hold back from speaking out loud and congratulating him for picking such a good song. Ride it by Jay Sean would've been in your list if you had been in charge of it.

Touchin' and teasin' me, tellin' me no

The second your eyes met, you could see the way he was trying to hold his breath, piling up every effort to keep his hands away from you. You knew your boyfriend for long enough to know that he was going to speak before he emitted a sound.

"You look beautiful tonight".

"Babe" you whined. "We can't speak, remember?".

"I know. But I needed to tell you".

"Then tell me through your eyes" both of your fingers pointed at your eyes, to later point at his. "Let's focus on each other, hmm? Look at every detail, let your head imagine and your body feel".

Twisting his lips again, he nodded. And while it seemed like he had it all under control, his voice suddenly sounded over the music again "Will I be able to tell you through my eyes?".

"Babe, you have the most expressive eyes I've ever seen in my life. You'll be able to" you assured him. "Let's try it again".

San closed his eyes, trying to focus and gain some control back, after suddenly feeling so nervous under your gaze. It was such an intimate moment, that he didn't really know how to deal with it silently. He felt so exposed, yet so connected to you when your eyes met, that he felt tickles in his body when you gave him a tiny sided smile to let him know you were feeling the same way. He wasn't touching you, but you could feel the warmth of his body almost coating yours, his forearms were on each side of your ankles, but it felt like they were searing your skin.

Your eyes, and the lyrics of that song, were the only way you had to communicate everything you wanted to do to each other right in that moment. He was craving your voice, and hearing you whimper with every touch of his fingertips on your soft skin, while you were dying to cover his lips with yours, finding them more tempting than ever before.

You wanted to feel each other, you wanted to hear each other, you wanted to lose control together... But the last minute of the song kept you from doing so, almost feeling like there was a chain keeping your hands away from each other as you battled your deeper wants.

The seductive sound of a trumpet marked the ending of the first phase, and the beginning of the second one. You recognised the song almost instantly, moving closer to him to wrap your arms around his neck. Chase Atlantic was never his cup of tea, but he still chose Slow Down for that moment.

"I thought you said you didn't like this song" you teased him, sinking your fingers slowly in his hair.

"I don't, but it reminds me of you" he confessed, finally moving his fingers over your calves, "and how pretty you looked while I fucked you in the backseat of my car".

Just hearing those words coming out of him made your core throb with need, and the images replaying in your head made it feel so vivid that you could almost feel every inch of his dick rubbing against your walls and making you curl your toes inside the sneakers you wore that night. That song started playing when you two moved to the back, and he started pounding into you from behind after you had teased him on his lap.

"Did I?" you purred against his lips. "You always look so hot when you show how bigger and stronger you are, maybe that had a lot to do with how I looked" your lips traced his marked jaw, slightly sticking out the tip of your tongue.

He gulped so loud that you could hear and feel the moment the spit went down his throat when your lips met the freckles of his neck. You knew how sensitive that spot had always been for him.

For a second, he had you under his charm, you were under his control by how quick he was using the dirty talk to make you weaker, but you clapped back quite fast, making him suddenly nervous by how soft and seductive your voice sounded at the same time.

He remembered how insecure and lost you were on your first times, and how slowly you became the woman you were then: fierce, sexy, free... And what made him twitch between your bodies was thinking that he was the only one that saw that change.

You kissed him first, sucking his lower lip so delicately that he thought his whole body paralyzed with the way you trapped him. But your head quickly moved back before he could make the kiss go deeper.

He tried once, twice... always with the same result. Until he hooked your jaw in his fingers with a growl, moving your face to him to link your lips together just the way he wanted to have you. His tongue moved first, sneaking through your lips to make you gasp when it twirled around yours.

The first song had made you so sensitive and needy for his touch that the slight rub of his tongue on yours had you clenching around nothing, and grinding your hips against his hard-on for some friction.

"Babe, I thought you said I should take it easy" he broke the kiss to tease you for your own desperation. "You need me so bad?".

"Uh-hum" you licked your lips, cleaning all the remains of your mixed spits on them. "I need to feel you stretching me out as good as you know" you purred against his lips, but he only smirked in response.

He had insisted on saving up all the energy for your last night together, to make it more special for the both of you. And just for that same reason, you came up with the idea of doing tantric sex to start the night -after reading it on a book-, but it only ended up with you being victim of your own torture.

Your breathing instantly cut when two of his fingers moved over your clit, slowly and gently rubbing in eight-shapes traces. San had to control himself from surrendering to you after he met your folds, finding them completely soaked in your arousal.

"The song hasn't finished yet. Don't try to tempt me" almost covering your body, he leaned over you to whisper in your ear. "This was your idea".

Your breathing was faster, and your hips seemed to find a way to move by themselves, lifting every single time against his digits. You were so trapped when he kissed you again, that you didn't know when your fingers hooked around his wrist and moved his fingers down your pussy.

"What do you want?" he hissed against your lips, dedicating you one of those filthy looks that just made you want to do all the nasty things that came up to mind.

"Finger me" your voice sounded weak, but your petition was so determined that it almost sounded like you were begging.

A sigh escaped your lips as you felt two of his fingers pushing inside your entrance, getting deeper until he was knuckles deep in you.

He never went too fast, his finger never curled in your insides to reach that glorious spot, he just kept you there hanging as his digits pounded in and out of you so slowly that you were sure he was just trying to drive you crazy.

But two could play that game.

Millimeters away from his lips, you spit on your hand to guide it to his hard shaft, while your other hand pushed him to your lips by his nape. He groaned during the kiss while your fingers moved over his dick, coating it with the saliva before you wrapped them around it and started moving your fingers up and down, barely adding any pressure.

That kiss turned so hungry, so savage, that you both knew it was only a declaration of how much you both needed each other at that point of the game. While neither of you wanted to give in first, you were almost praying the other surrendered and took the next step before the song ended.

The pop-rock R&B music stopped, letting a slower indie rock song start. You both looked at each other knowing exactly what it meant: the start of the third phase.

"New rule: we can't touch each other until..."

You didn't let him finish, pushing his body onto the mattress to straddle his body with one leg on each side of his hips. But San was faster, holding your body and making the two of you roll so he was on top between your legs.

"I don't want to wait anymore" you whispered, attempting to pout when you saw the tease in his eyes.

"Neither do I" he confessed, giving you a sweet smile.

San moved away from you only to pick a condom from the nightstand on his right, separating your bodies while standing on his knee to wrap himself with the latex. With another kiss, he completely covered your body, molding himself in between your thighs, with one hand cupping one of your cheeks while the other directed himself to your entrance.

Your nails dived on the skin of his shoulders as he stretched you out, slowly moving forward inch by inch until your hips were connected to one another. He stopped there, taking his time to admire every detail in your face as he rubbed his nose on yours.

While your legs were tangled together, you moved your foot up through his calf, at the same time your fingertips traced his spine from his lower back to his shoulders.

"San" you called him, having his eyes falling on yours with so much dedication that you felt your heart crumpling in your chest ", I'm yours".

It sounded like a promise.

And that was exactly what it was. You were assuring him that whatever happened, how far you were from each other, you'd remain his, just like he'd remain yours.

He leaned over you after saying that, linking your lips together before his hips started rocking against yours, steadily making your lower back hit the mattress every few thrusts. One of his hands never left your cheek, but the other wandered over your curves and in between your bodies, reaching your swollen button to get that first moan from you.

There was nothing more addictive than losing all types of control of your body because of San.

Your knees were at the level of his waist, while your heels digged on his lower back as his pounds got a little faster with the passing of time.

"Harder, babe" you moaned with a shaky voice.

Just like you asked, his thrusts went against your pelvis with a bigger impact, making your whole body bounce and emit that loud clap that echoed through the room and almost sounded over your voice.

San quickly moved your hands away from his face and his shoulders, holding you by your wrists to put them over your head. He only enclosed his fingers around your small joints for a few seconds, caressing your exposed palms with his digits until he was able to hold your hands, intertwining yours fingers together, closing his fist so tight to assure you that he wouldn't ever let you go. He linked your lips together again, drinking up all of your moans.

Succumbing to pleasure, feeling that knot in your stomach tightening with every move of his hips, and every rub of his pelvis against your clit, you tried to fight that outer force that made your back arch and your head move back, because you wanted to keep kissing him while he drove you to your orgasm. Curling your fingers a bit, you went from holding his hand to digging your nails on his knuckles, slowly losing every control that was remaining in your system.

San felt it on the way your moans sounded more choked, and the way you clenched around him like you never wanted him to let go, and that only encouraged him to go a bit faster, keeping that same strength of his thrusts.

Your orgasm was stronger than you, having you break the kiss to let out the deepest breath and the loudest moan that could gift his ears. He still went on, fucking you through your high to reach his.

One thrust.

Two thrusts.

Three thrusts.

And he was gone.

You recognised those small whimpers, getting out one right after the other, until a low groan culminated it all as his thrusts got sloppier and his cock twitched inside you while he spilled himself inside the condom.

His forehead covered yours and his hands finally let go of yours to caress your forearms while your fingers cupped his cheeks.

"You have no idea how much you mean to me" he whispered, with the most sincere tone in his voice.

"I know" you nodded, trying to move his bangs away from his head, only to have them fall back to the same place right after. "I love you so much".

"I love you, too" his head was hidden in the curve of your neck, while your arms hugged him tight.

But you didn't want sadness to ruin the mood of the night, you didn't want that sensation of losing something to get to you until the time you actually had to leave. It was your last night, and you two needed to enjoy it.

"Hmm, what about a second round?".

"You want more?" he asked, raising his eyebrows surprised as he looked at you again.

"Always".

After saying that, you succeeded at making your body roll over the bed, getting on top of him to go on with a night that you didn't want to see the end of.

Wednesday

That day nothing felt like you were going to leave, like you were actually saying goodbye to all those things. San drove you to the airport, and you still didn't have the sensation that you'd be seeing that city for the last time in a long while.

You both woke up curled next to each other, you both cuddled like you always did in the mornings you weren't busy, you both had breakfast and joked around. Not even dragging those two big suitcases made you feel like you were leaving.

Until you arrived at the airport and reality hit you.

You could feel the way your hand was shaking despite having his almost covering it, and that knot in your throat was tying up as tight as possible with every step you took. You were so focused on your thoughts, that you didn't know when exactly those tears started rolling down your cheeks until you felt a salty taste from one of them in your mouth.

"Hey, hey" he stopped, placing himself in front of you and leaning over so your eyes could be at the same height and be able to look at one another under the visor of his cap. "We promised we wouldn't do this".

"I know" you managed to say. "It's just... I can't..." your head shook, letting him know you wouldn't be able to say another word before you broke out crying again.

The rhythm of his heart beating should've been peaceful enough to calm you down when he hugged you, other times it definitely worked. But that morning it only made you want to stick to him, because you knew it wouldn't be there as soon as you got on that plane.

In your almost two years of relationship you never had to consider having to let it go to each other's safe place, not even once. And even if you had a week to get ready for it, you ignored it, spending time together and making you treasure that comfortable place that your relationship was.

And now reality was hitting you two like a truck.

"We'll text each other constantly, we'll facetime every day, I'll go visit you every time I can, and you'll come to visit me whenever you have the chance" he tried to calm you down. "Remember what we said?" softly, he moved back just to be able to wipe your tears away "This will only make us stronger".

You really wanted to take that step, to go further in your career, but it was burning your chest to know that was the sacrifice you had to make to get it.

His words managed to comfort you, they helped calm you down, but it had the reverse effect on him.

You felt a drop falling over your shoulder, and when you looked up, you could see San trying to hold back those tears that were forming in the corners of his eyes. Your arms moved up to his shoulders, now adopting the position of the one who was comforting him to caress the strings of hair that escaped his cap.

"Time will also fly" you whispered with a shaky voice. "Who knows? Maybe I get the chance to come back sooner than what we think".

His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling a strong grip around your body when your lips kissed the curve of his neck, right where his freckles were.

"We said we wouldn't make a scene, and look at us" you chuckled.

San had been so used to seeing you whenever he came back from tour, to escaping anywhere with you whenever he had a gap in his schedule, that finally realizing all those small plans would be gone for a long while was aching more than he could've imagined.

You stayed there after calming down, holding hands, just enjoying the last few minutes together before it was time for you to go. San held you tight, hugging you tight one last time before you started going your separate ways. Although you stopped shortly after you started walking, turning on your tracks and running to your boyfriend to give him one last hug.

When you kissed again, you felt that salty taste on your lips again, but you didn't know if it belonged to your tears or his. You two tried to force a smile when you broke the kiss and stepped back, trying to encourage the other to be well despite feeling broken inside.