#ateez y/n

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ｍｙ ｔｙｐｅ♡

♡ Pairing: friend!yeosang! x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Summary: While getting ready for a night out with your friends, you get to see a different side of the sweetheart that is Yeosang.

♡ Genre: oh honey, straight up smut

♡ Word Count: 1.9k-ish

♡ Warnings: posessive yeosang, fingering, face fucking (m recieving), rough sex, creampie, unprotected sex (as always, ya'll know better), pet names (slut/good girl/bad girl/etc), hair pulling, manhandling, marking, yeosang has a filthy filthy mouth, masturbation, a lil bit of coochie slapping if you squint.

♡ A/N: My dear darling @anyamaris needed some Yeosang filth in her life and hopefully this delivers for the Yeosang biased babes out there.

 “Can I have a little help in here?” you shout over your shoulder, eyes locked on the full length mirror reflecting your battle with this dress. A part of you regrets having ordered it. It’s skin tight and much shorter than you expected. The only way to make it fit seamlessly has been to swap your normal panties for the tiny black thong you hardly ever wear.

Putting on a bra’s completely out of the question. Every single one you put on makes the fit of the dress awkward. Whatever. You already agreed to go out with your roommates. It’s too late to turn back now. You’ll make it through the night. If only you could get this zipper to work.

“Someone call for help?” Yeosang asks, popping into your doorway with the sweetest smile. You let out a sigh of exhaustion and relief. “Oh thank god. I’m fighting for my life with this zipper.” “No worries. I’ve got you.” You should’ve known Yeosang would be the one to come to the rescue.

He doesn’t even live here like Yunho, Woo, and Mingi do yet he manages to do more in the way of assisting around this place than the three of them combined. Yeosang comes up behind you, pinching the base of your zipper with one hand and whipping the slider up with the other. “There. All done” he says, stepping back to bask in the glory of having saved your life.

“Kang Yeosang, you’re an angel!” you squeak, hands smoothing the dress along your curves. Yeosang nibbles at his bottom lip, following every arch and dip your fingers ride along. “Mmm, sometimes” he shrugs, his gaze lingering on you a few seconds longer before he snaps himself out of it. You scan his body in the mirror, taking notice of that gloriously muscular frame and the rosy glow on those perky cheeks of his.

Is he flirting with me? From day one you’d wondered if there was some sort of tension between the two of you. After a while though, you wrote it off as being all in your head. Yeosang’s the same kind, soft-spoken man with everyone. Any time you thought he was giving you special attention that was simply him being himself. Right?

Something in you says this is the time to find out once and for all. You narrow your eyes at him, lips curved into a shy smile, “And what do you mean by that?” “Nothing” he shrugs, “Just that, you know, there’s two sides to everyone.” “Oh really? And when do I get to meet this ‘other side’ of you?” He comes up behind you again, only this time his hand’s against the small of your back simply to elicit those shivers currently traveling up your spine.

“Whenever you want. You just have to say the word.” You lean back into his hand, poking your ass out the slightest bit to gauge his interest. When his hand slips down, taking a handful of your ass, the question you’ve had for months is immediately answered. “What’s the word?” “Yes” he whispers, the innocence dropping from his voice. You’ve never seen Yeosang look at you this way before and you never want him to look at you any other way again. “I..uh…yeah” you stutter, “Yes.”

Silence hangs in the air for what seems like an eternity before he’s taking a leisurely stroll over to your door, locking it. With his back still turned to you, he pulls the silver rings from his fingers, tossing them onto the bed. “Y/n, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.” You turn to face each other and the clashing of your bodies is cataclysmic. Galaxies are created and destroyed by this type of collision. Yeosang’s pillowy lips capture yours, his tongue sweeping yours into a dance of pure chaos.

Immediately, you’re tearing at each other’s clothes. The zipper on your dress puts up no resistance now, coming undone at the lightest tug. Pinning you against the wall, he kisses his way down your chest, leaving a trail of almost heart-shaped red marks behind. “Yeosang…ah…” you moan, grabbing his hair as he tears your dress down. Your breasts spring out, one into a strong hand that immediately starts kneading it, the other into his mouth where his eager tongue swirls around your nipple.

“Hmm?” he hums against the plump flesh, his knee pushing between your legs to rub against your heat. The friction of his pants teasing your pussy through the barely there material of your thong has you choking on the most desperate moans. You rock your hips forward, grinding your clit along his thigh. “Fuck…mmph” you mewl, fingers trembling in his hair. Yeosang grabs your ass, bringing his leg flush against your core. With one last lap of your bud, his lips skim the surface of your skin until you’re eye to eye again.

“Such a needy little slut. So desperate for some friction” he teases, nibbling at your bottom lip, “You want my cock that badly? Hmm?” “Mmhmm” you manage, hips stuttering at the overwhelming pleasure of such a simple motion. Yeosang steps back and you fall to your knees, your legs much too weak for you to hold yourself up. He grabs you by your hair, tilting your head back to stare into those deep, starry eyes of yours.

You’ve always been his favorite thing to look at but fuck was there something special about having you on your knees like this, your chin resting against his arousal. Without taking your eyes off of his you undo his pants and his cock pops out of his boxers, brushing against your lips. It’s much bigger than you expected, the anticipation of it stretching your tight cunt getting you even wetter. Yeosang taps the head of his cock on your lips, precum coating them like a gloss.

You part your lips and he’s thrusting into your mouth, groaning as your spit soaks his length. “I want you to play with that sweet little pussy while I fuck your throat, okay?” he coos, slowly pressing deeper into your throat. You gag the deeper he goes. Music to his ears. Blindly, you run your fingers down your stomach, the same way you have so many nights alone in bed, and dip two of them between your folds.

Yeosang feels you moan around his cock and can’t wait any longer to fuck into you. He pumps in and out in short strokes, never giving you a break from the strain on your throat. The ridges on the roof of your mouth and the grooves on your tongue drag noises out of this man that he didn’t even know he could make. Spreading your thighs as far apart as you can, you guide your fingers into your core, you wrist bumping against your clit each time you curl your fingers against your weeping walls.

With your lipstick smeared, teary eyes smudging your mascara, you look an absolute wreck. And what a pretty little wreck you are. Drool drips down your chin, glistening on your tits. Yeosang wishes it were his cum, thick white pearls decorating your chest, but he has to save it for your pussy. Pulling your head back just enough that his cock still rests on the tip of your tongue, he kisses you on the forehead. “On the bed” he orders, “And keep fucking yourself until I tell you to stop.” Yeosang steps to the side, having far too much fun watching you stagger over to the bed. You’re like a new born giraffe, not a stable muscle in your body, but you make it.

Falling onto your back, you close your eyes and continue to explore your depths. He approaches the edge of the bed, parting your legs so wide that every velvety detail of your cunt is on display for him. He presses his thumb against your clit, making small circles as your slit gobbles down your fingers. “Oh, fuck!” you moan, choking it down once again. “Y/n, what are you doing?” Yeosang pouts, taking your hand away from your cunt and bringing it to his mouth, “We aren’t holding back are we?”

You open your eyes to him licking your fingers clean, his still moist cock dancing above your warmth. “I didn’t…want…the guys…uh…to hear.” Yeosang laughs, running the back of your hand along his cheek, “What if I do?” “What if?” he asks, spreading your pussy lips and spitting on your throbbing clit, “I want them to hear you scream for me?” Using the tip of his cock, he smears the spit through your folds, coming down to your entrance. “What if…they want to hear you scream too?”

Yeosang’s pressed against your core just enough to feel it flinch when he says this. Nothing had ever happened between you and your roommates. Not even a drunken hookup or a late night kiss. You can recognize though, that the three of them are incredibly handsome. Knowing that they might hear you…that they might like hearing you…turns you on in ways you don’t understand just yet. He sinks down into you and, with this new possibility in mind, your declarations of pleasure fill the room. “Yes…oooh…shit! So good! So…fucking…god…” you scream, your words trailing off into nonsense as he picks up momentum.

No matter where your roommates are in the house they can hear everything. You calling out Yeosang’s name. His dick stirring your completely drenched pussy like the world’s most delectable pot of macaroni and cheese. The sharp slaps he dishes out to the sides of your ass when he throws your legs over his shoulders to bottom out. “You belong to me now. You understand?” he growls, kissing your quivering legs. “Y…yes” you gasp, not even nearly loud enough for him. “Louder!” “Yes!” He fucks into you harder with each pump, the tremors spreading all the way to your chest.

“Louder! Who owns this sweet little pussy? Tell me!” “You, Yeosang!” the words grate your throat on the way out, “You…own…my pussy. Fuck, yes. All yours. All yours. All…” Your stomach sinks. Your back arches. Your soul may or may not leave your body. When it returns you’re twisting amongst the sheets, soaking his cock so heavily in your cream that even his balls are covered. Letting your legs fall to the side, he brings his sculpted chest against your lush body, kissing you like he wants to taste your insides. And he does.

“Inside or out?” he whispers and you instinctively know what he means. “Both” you say, tugging at his hair again. “Fuck, you’re so nasty” he grins, “I love it.” His body curls against yours as cum coats your walls from the deepest point to your very entrance. There’s still enough when he pulls out to empty all over your pussy, laying claim to every bit of you. 

Rolling onto your side, you chase a breath that seems intent on eluding you. Yeosang cuddles up behind you, kissing you on the neck. “Too much?” he asks, genuinely concerned about your feelings. You shake your head, settling into his arms, “No. It was perfect.” “Oh, good” he says, reaching an arm around to prop your legs open, “It’s going to be so much fun breaking you.”

[nervousdiythesimspsychic]

Master list:

the fox and the treasure hunters

chapter 1: Shadows and Secrets

chapter 2: Deception

chapter 3: I´ve got you

chapter 4: the interrogation

chapter 5: captured again

chapter 6: worries and no choices

chapter 7: Wooyoung and the fox are alike

chapter 8: Building trust

chapter 9: Wrong answer ---- chapter 9.5: Not so graceful

chapter 10: Whispers of the Swamp

chapter 11: Do not listen

chapter 12: trapped in memories

[unique-high]

Sleepover | San x Blk Fem reader

Summary: You're excited yet nervous about your first sleepover with your boyfriend, San, who is super in love with you.

REQUESTED BY ANON.

Just very cute fluffy fluff stuff (Just know I tried)

You stood back with your hands on your hips admiring your handy work. If building forts were an actual job, you'd make good money. It's decked on the inside with pillows, fairy lights, your squishmallows, blankets to keep warm, a basket of snacks, and the TV.

This was the first time that your boyfriend, San, was sleeping over. It needed to be something special. Something fun. So you told San, “Let's have a sleepover!”

Just as much as you were excited about the idea, so was he. You had a lot planned for the night but didn't think you two could make it to everything on the list. But sleepovers aren't actually meant for sleeping, so maybe you two would mark everything off the list.

You changed into your pajamas. And one last time you check the fort making sure it is up to code and won't come falling down on you and San. The doorbell rings. You rushed to the door, sliding down the hall in your socks.

“San!” You yelled as you yanked open the door.

He's smiling holding his squishmallow. He's in a matching pajama set like yours.

“Hey, Babe. You look really cute.”

Your cheeks burn a little.

“So do you! Come in.”

San steps in. He leans towards you placing a kiss on your forehead. Even though You and San have been dating for a little while now, you still aren't used to the little things that he does. So it made your heart race.

“I'm excited to be spending the night,” he said as he stepped into the living room. “Wow, you built this?”

“Yup. The hard labor paid off in the end,” you said.

San put his squishmallows inside the fort with yours. You grabbed San by the forearm and spun him around.

“I made a list of everything we're doing tonight.”

“What's first on the list?”

“Making heart-shaped pizzas!”

You gestured for your boyfriend to follow you into your small kitchen. Everything was laid out on the kitchen table in the corner. You washed your hands first and then San after you. You both sat at the table. San opens the cans of Pillsbury pizza dough and the tomato sauce.

As you're making the pizza with him. There's the conversation in between belly-aching laughter that makes you feel warmer. San was having a hard time forming his pizza dough into a heart. It looked like something deformed. So you fixed it for him. San spreads the tomato sauce on the pizzas and you go in with the mozzarella cheese and mini pepperonis, making a smiley face on the heart pizzas. You preheat the oven and when it is ready, San put the pizzas into the oven.

You popped some mini pepperonis in your mouth as you hopped up on the countertop. San stands in between your legs and you feed him a pepperoni.

“What's your favorite thing in the whole wide world?” You ask.

San thinks long and hard. Then his lips pulled into a smile.

“My favorite thing?”

“Yeah.”

“That's a hard one,” he said. “I wouldn't say a thing, though. But a person.”

“Who is your favorite person, then?”

You feed him another pepperoni.

“Well, it's this girl. She has a really pretty smile. Makes my heart skip a beat with just a look. And she has a really pretty name, too. I think you know her. Her name is Y/n?” San laughed.

You rolled your eyes, pushing his shoulder playfully. You were never someone's favorite person, and It so felt nice.

San touches your arm letting his fingertips drag along your skin, leaving goosebumps. There's a moment when it felt like the world slowed down just a bit for the two of you. It's sudden. Yet sweet. When San leans in and kisses you.

He laced his fingers with yours. You hear your heartbeat in your ears. When San kisses always seemed like magic. Silly. But his kisses did.

You and he are so lost in the little kiss that the pizzas are forgotten.

***

The pizzas burnt in the oven.

You and San laughed about it over the takeout you both were eating inside the fort.

“So we burnt the pizza. What's next on the list that we can't burn?”

“Making friendship bracelets!”

After eating. You ran to your room to grab the clear containers of beads you had picked up from Target earlier that day. Crawling back into the fort, you hand one to San. You both sat cross-legged in front of each other. San turned on the TV and logged into his Spotify. He played the playlist he made for you the second week of the relationship. The playlist was named “To The Pretty Girl Who Stole My Heart.”

San made his friendship bracelet with your favorite colors and his name. And yours for him had flower beads with letter beads that spelled out “forever yours”

“It's nice, isn't it?” You ask as you put your bracelet on San.

“Yeah. I'm never taking it off. I can't wait to show the guys!” he said, smiling.

You met San's friends before. A bunch of chaotic guys that were fun to be around.

San puts his bracelet on you and you admire it like it is an expensive tennis bracelet. It was better than that.

“I'm never taking mines off either!” You threw yourself onto San, knocking him onto his back. He smiles at you with love in his eyes.

San was absolutely crazy about you. He placed a kissed on forehead. “I love you Y/n.” He whispered.

His love for you is big.

After the bracelet making the next thing on the list was taking Polaroid pictures.

San held the Fuji camera, you are behind him. He counts to three and you both make a silly face. San said he was keeping that one in the back of his phone case. Then there was one of you both kissing, that one would at the back of your phone case.

A couple more photos were taken and you and San traded them like Pokemón cards. San really wanted all the cute photos of you, only so he could brag to his friends that he had the cutest girlfriend in the world.

“Dance off!” You shouted.

San laughed.

“We both know who will win.”

“Me of course.”

“Thats cute you think that babe.” San pinches your cheeks and pulls them.

San is up first busting out his killer moves, making funny sexy faces as he runs his hands down his body.

“Booo!” You give a thumbs down.

San grabbed one of the squishmallows from the fort and threw it at you, but you're quick and doughed the mallow.

“Let's see what you got then, Y/n.”

You did in fact show San what you got. Showing him the dance routine you've been saving just in case you ever did need to pull the moves for a dance-off. He falls over in laughter, clutching his sides, kicking his feet.

“Wow, you have no rhythm at all.”

You stopped dancing giving your boyfriend the evil eye. “Well I'm sorry not everyone can be a sexy dance God.”

San sits up smirking.

“So I'm sexy?” he wiggled his brows.

“Did I say sexy?” You play dumb batting your eyes.

“You did.”

“Well, I didn't mean to say that.”

San reached up grabbing your hand pulling you down between his legs. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. He loved the way you smells. It was comforting.

“Well, I think your sexy.” he mumbles against your skin.

Your face goes hot.

“Oh, hush.”

“Don't like hearing the truth?” he teases you.

You smiled a little saying, “I do.”

“Sexy, Sexy, Sexy.” He laughs.

***

Next on the list was to do facemasks and watch TV inside the fort while cuddling the squishmallows. There was a new show on Netflix that you wanted to watch with San.

But instead of watching the show you were staring at San. He's cute with his hello kitty facemask.

“What?” San asks as he popped some Skittles in his mouth.

“Oh... Oh, nothing I was just–” You looked back at the TV.

“Staring at me being a creep?” he teased you.

You take your squishmallow you're cuddling and hit him with it. San screams. You settle back down and look at the TV screen. He stuck his tongue out at you when you weren't paying attention.

“San?”

“Yeah?”

“You know how I'm your favorite person?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you're my favorite feeling.” You rest your head on his shoulder.

He smiles so hard that his cheeks ached.

“It's really nice knowing I'm your favorite feeling,” San said as he rested his head on top of yours. “I hope to be your favorite feeling forever, Y/n.”

A/N: I hope you liked it anon. I tried my best with cute and fluffy stuff. 😭

[k-hotchoisan]

backseat serenade

<mingi x fem!reader>

Getting stuck in the backseat of your friend’s car after a night out with your drunk friends wasn’t how you thought of ending the night, especially not on Mingi’s lap.

Genre/warnings: smut, pwp, forced proximity, technically exhibitionism but not because no one ends up noticing, fingering, light choking and wrist pining, riding, cream pies, orgasms, something is going on in the backseat…, furcoat mingi

word count: 3.3K (what the fucK)

a/n: y'all be eating fucking good fr. Also shout out to my loml @bro-atz for helping out with the plot a little <3 shout out to mingi brain rot!

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie  @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess  @woojirang @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn  @voicesinmyhead-rc @woojirang @wlv-asteria @jjoongstar @comicnerd557 or @kpopwrites @vic0921

networks: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

“Who else is here?” You ask. 

She shrugs. “My boyfriend and a couple of his friends. You know them.” Well, you’ve definitely met a couple of your friend’s boyfriend’s friends before. Your eyes scan the crowd and sure enough, you spot familiar faces. 

And then your eyes rest on a particular male—his hair dyed platinum and slicked back, already drawing attention because of his height alongside his fur coat that hung over his shoulders. You never thought someone could pull off a fur coat that well actually. A pair of glasses sits on his nose bridge, which seems to somehow accentuate how sharp his eyes are. He’s been on your radar since he appeared on a mutual friend’s Instagram. 

“He’s pretty cute isn’t he?”, your friend’s date pushes, lightly bumping his arm against yours. 

You cast him a glance. “Just surprised that there are people who still wear fur coats in this economy.”

“That’s-“

“Song Mingi”, you reply, not taking notice of your friend’s boyfriend’s surprised expression. 

“You know him?”

“Came across him”, you reply a little too quickly. You sure as hell were not about to spill the truth. 

He definitely looks and is intimidating for sure, especially when he opens his mouth to speak, his voice so low that it tickles your ears. You could hear him talk forever, you think. You could imagine how he moans in your ears.

You blink. The fuck?

And so, for the past hour or so, you’ve been stealing glances at the blond male, but unfortunately, there was only so much staring could do, and it was not helping you get the male’s attention. Sure, the both of you actually followed each other (you were surprised when he followed you back), and the way he liked your stories sometimes made your stomach grow butterflies, but you never actually interacted with him in real life. 

It wasn’t until the party was slowing down, when you came back from being distracted by another friend, was when you realise Mingi was gone. A ping of disappointment fills you up, but it’s not as horrendous as the feeling of regret—for not just going up to talk to him. You wonder when you’ll see him again.

You decide to find your friend and call it a night.

“Do you wanna hitch a ride with us?”, your friend asks, uselessly trying to balance herself, her partner holding onto her waist. 

“The driver didn’t drink, I promise”, your friend’s partner assures. 

You open the car door and your eyes widen when you spot Mingi. 

You whip your head to your friend to ask her sincewhen Mingi came with the friend group but you realise you wouldn’t be getting any concrete answers from a tipsy person. 

You glance back at the male donned in the maroon fur coat, who seems rather surprised when he sees that you were the one who opened the car door. 

But Mingi’s expression remains indifferent—god knows what he’s thinking about but you swore you saw a tint of something in his eyes when your friends told you to just sit on his lap because “the car had no space”. 

“Hi, y/n”, Mingi’s deep voice calling your name is kept in a bottle and stored at the back of your head. 

“Hey Mingi”, you greet back, cautiously approaching him. 

“Are you okay with this?” You ask, testing the waters by putting your weight on his left thigh. 

“It’s fine. I’m just worried that it’s gonna be uncomfortable for you since it’s gonna take a while to reach your place right?”

Right. You nod in defeat. 

Your body jolts slightly when you feel Mingi’s touch burn against your skin—especially your thighs. 

His friend on the passenger seat has the aux cord and he’s picked out a song to blast in the speakers. You feel goosebumps bloom across the nape of your neck when Mingi’s voice hits your ear from behind. 

“Sorry, you might need to move in a little more, Princess. We have three more squeezing with us at the back.”

You blink, processing the information before internally thanking the universe that the car is dark so the red flushing against your cheeks gets hidden. 

Soon you find yourself fully on Mingi’s lap, and although you try not to lean too much against him, you realise the position feels awkward, and when Mingi personally shifts you with his hands instead, you decide to stay put. 

The energy in the car is high, even after all that partying, which you easily deduce to be due to the alcohol. Unfortunately, you couldn’t be singing along at the top of your lungs, not when you’re subconsciously aware that Mingi is just behind you. 

Sitting on someone’s lap was definitely not as comfortable as sitting on a car seat, and that was a given, so you find yourself shifting constantly, not realising Mingi closing his fists every time your ass shifts against him, particularly his crotch. 

Suddenly you feel the weight below you shift. Mingi’s arm wraps around your waist, his weight pressing against you. You stay put the moment you feel his lips barely inches away from the shell of your ear. 

“I strongly suggest you try to stay still, y/n, or it’ll become a problem for the both of us.” 

You turn your head slightly, barely enough to capture him within your peripherals. At first, you wonder if you’re starting to annoy him, but when you feel his hands slide down to your thighs and something hard pressing against your ass, you get your answer. 

And you wonder how far you should take this. 

Your face is heating up, at the idea you’re just sitting on Mingi’s thick erection, separated by the fabric of his pants and the ridiculously thin fabric of your body con dress. You wonder about his size, which only gets more vivid since you’re literally sitting right on his fucking cock—how thick he would be, how much he would stretch you open, and it’s making you slowly drench your panties. 

The more his erection is blatantly pressing against you, the more you can’t help but fidget on his lap. You’re wondering why Mingi hasn’t said anything, you wonder if he even felt it at all. The moment that thought forms in your brain, you pick out what sounded like low groans from behind you. Then you feel Mingi’s fingers press against your bare thighs, just this fucking close to lifting your dress. 

Mingi shifts against you, his hard cock now even more prominent against your ass—directly below your pussy if it wasn’t for the fact that there were layers of annoying fabric keeping them apart. 

His deep voice is like a melody in your ear,  “I’m closing an eye if you’re just doing this on accident, but there’s only so much more grinding I can take princess.”

You glance over to the company seated just right beside you—they are still singing their hearts out thanks to the self-assigned DJ of the car. The music was still blasting, and you realise you and Mingi are slowly forming another world—one growing of hot and heavy air. 

You’re trying to weigh your options and risks, but the constant friction of Mingi’s cock just poking you through his pants mixed with the light buzz from the alcohol earlier is keeping you less than logical. 

You lean back, the back of your head resting on his shoulder, feeling the thick coat tickle your cheeks, taking in the scent of his cologne that you swear only he could pull off, the boldness rushing into your veins like adrenaline.

“And if I said it wasn’t an accident?”

You don’t know what he might do next, but it’s making your legs tremble by the second. Your clit is fucking throbbing from the sheer anticipation. 

Mingi’s eyes dart to glance at you while his head remains positioned straight, before he presses himself onto you with a smirk against your ears, “Right. Glad we cleared that up, princess.” 

His hands press on the sides of your throat, two fingers tipping your jaw to turn your head to face him as he clashes his lips against yours, and you’re ready for him to just take whatever the fuck you have left. You’re doing your best to muffle your moans through the kisses, but as every second passes, you’re ready to give into it—mostly scream his fucking name into the night at this point. 

Your eyes are so glazed out, your pussy throbbing and drenched, your mind so sexually frustrated the more Mingi keeps you waiting. Mingi’s fingers trail along your bare thighs, his legs forcing yours to stay open, easily letting the gather of your dress push upwards, while his fingers push your panties to the side. You hear him mutter fuck when your wet cunt drenches his fingers. He barely drags his fingers over your clit, yet you already feel like you’re about to burst. 

“Are you gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?” Mingi asks, sinking his gaze into yours. You swallow hard and nod, so fucking entranced by his sharp eyes behind the glasses, and alongside the fact that his fingers are rubbing circles on your clit. 

“Fuck me. You’re so fucking wet for me”, he hisses, eating up your moans as he fits his thick fingers into your pussy, filling you up instantly. Oh god. You feel your mind completely blank out at the sensation of Song Mingi stretching you out. 

You swear that the wet sounds of Mingi’s fingers fucking your sopping cunt were louder than the music, but for some reason, and thank fuck, no one else seemed to notice. Yet. 

His other hand clasps over your mouth as he watches your eyes roll back, your desperate and satisfied moans muffled every time his thumb presses against your clit while his fingers fill you up again and again. 

You shouldn’t have agreed to stay quiet. 

Mingi’s legs are strong as fuck because his knees keep your legs from snapping shut as you let the feeling build in your stomach. Your hips are involuntarily bucking against his fingers, craving for him to fuck his fingers deeper. Shit. You can’t seem to get enough. He releases his hand off your mouth for a while, letting it wander to your tits, rolling your nipples over your dress with his fingers, listening to you pant and whimper.  

“Can’t wait to fuck your tight cunt once we get off”, he mutters into your ear, increasing his pressure on your clit. 

“Please… fuck! Mingi…” you trail, not even sure what you’re begging for at this point. But the knot tightens hard and taut. You’re about to snap anytime soon. 

“Cum on my fingers for me, y/n. Show me how your cunt is gonna feel like when my cock is gonna stuff you full.”

His hand goes back to clamping over your mouth to muffle your cries while your orgasm rips through your body. Your eyes roll back, and your back arched against his abdomen, the pleasure spreading through every nerve while he’s still fucking you with his fingers, enjoying the way you’re completely undone because of him. Your cunt can’t seem to stop spasming and it’s only from his fucking fingers. 

But it slowly wears off, and he releases his hand from your mouth, letting you catch your breath. 

His fingers slowly leave your spent and creamy cunt, and for a split second, you’re almost disappointed. You turn your head, watching Mingi slide his stained fingers past his lips, licking them clean, and his eyes locked onto you. 

“You taste so fucking good, Princess”, he whispers, before his hands are on your throat again, pulling you in for a wet kiss, and you taste yourself on his tongue, your face heating up at his words once more. 

The split second you pull away from him is when the music stops, and you hear your name being called.

“Y/n!”

Your eyes widen, and Mingi lowers his knees, letting you quickly shut your legs, letting his arm rest close to your legs, blocked by his fur coat. Thank fuck you’re in the dark. 

“This is your stop right?” Your friend asks before she turns on the interior car lights. You glance at the apartment building and sure enough, it is your apartment building. 

“Right”, you manage to answer with a forced smile. 

And as you are about to leave the car, Mingi suddenly announces, “I’ll send her up. Don’t wait for me.” He takes off his fur coat, draping it over your shoulders, quickly turning away as he pushes the car door open, ignoring the suggestive looks his group of friends were giving him before curtly saying his goodbyes and shutting the car door. 

Mingi is pretty much gentle with you as the both of you head up to your apartment, asking if you’re feeling cold, even though he’s only in a black tank top. You can’t help but gawk at how he looks even under shitty elevator lights—still so fucking hot. His fingers haven’t let go of yours yet since the both of you left the car, and he sure isn’t letting you go when the both of you reach to the door of your apartment. 

You feel so ridiculous in this oversized fur coat, but the fact that Mingi’s smell is just all over it makes you turn a blind eye to it. 

You unlock the door, pushing it open, the post nut clarity hitting, but the realisation of Mingi in a private space with you sending you mind into the gutter. 

And suddenly you feel your cunt throb again. Fuckin hell. 

“Cute place you have there”, he comments, slipping his shoes off. 

“I try to make the most out of it”, you return, taking off the fur coat, handing it back to him. 

Mingi pauses, staying near the door.

“I got no clue why I left the car like that, y/n. If you want me to leave, I can just call a cab and-“ 

His mouth runs, watching the way you’re walking towards him, and his lips snap shut when you pull him in for an open mouth kiss, his thoughts completely disappearing like they never existed. 

“Finish what you started, Minki”, you whisper when you pull away. 

For once, you like the way red looks on his pretty face, the red that disappears when he catches on, eye fucking you while thinking how fucking hot you look under normal apartment lights than the dim lights. 

His hands cup the back of your neck before his fingers are on your scalp, tugging your hair to face him, letting his lips collide with yours. You taste him so much more intensely now, and fuck does he taste like heaven. 

You feel his hands leave your head, going for your wrists instead, and he backs you up against the wall, deciding to pin your fucking wrists against the wall while stealing all of the oxygen you have left in between pants. 

His fingers trail down so lightly across your skin, you feel like you’re about to combust. 

“Is the couch fine for you?” He asks. You nod, just internally begging him to do anything to you. 

His hands slip down to your thighs, carrying you up in his arms, kissing and sucking against the skin of your neck while he navigates through your apartment. When he does find the couch (rather quickly), he lets you fall onto it, watching the way your dress rides up higher to your hips, your soaked panties coming into view, and his cock growing hard once more. 

“You know, you’re honestly killing me with that dress”, Mingi comments, his fingers tugging off your drenched panties, almost salivating over your glistening cunt. “Had to hold back from just pulling you out and fucking you.”

Oh, fucking gods. 

“That’s why we’re here now, aren’t we?” You tease, watching his satisfied grin grow bigger. 

You can’t wait for him to fuck your brains out. 

Mingi squats, letting his face press against your bare cunt, giving licks up, his tongue pressing against your clit while holding your legs apart. He thinks your whimpers and begs are like a fucking symphony—and he could listen to them over and over again while he breaks you, over and over again. 

It doesn’t last long, unfortunately, because he feels like he’s about to burst the longer he waits, his cock bulging against the fabric of his pants. 

So Mingi unbuckles his pants, pushing them down along with his underwear, his thick and long cock springs from his apparel, wet and decorated in thick precum. He gives himself quick strokes, amused by the way your face is turning a soft shade of pink. 

His thick fingers once again hold your wrists above you, lining his cock up to your pretty hole and pushing himself in, his girth taking up all space instantly. You see stars splatter beneath your eyelids as his cock stretches you out—thick and heavy. 

“Fuck. Song Mingi-“ you cry out, struggling against his grasp. 

“So fuckin tight, princess. Fuck, you feel so fucking good”, he sighs, letting himself bottom out in you, relishing in the way your face completely contorts into pleasure when he’s fully seated in you. 

And when he starts fucking you, your eyes roll back—the feeling of his cock pumping in and out of you switching off most of your senses. 

You sense his arms pining your wrists are growing tired, so you do your best to tap his arm, and Mingi lets go, watching you slide his wrist down to your throat. 

You sure know how to push his buttons. 

He applies pressure and it hits all the perfect spots. A choked moan escapes you while he fucks you dumb. 

“I’d love to choke you more, princess, but I really need you to ride me right now”, Mingi whispers, his fingers leaving your throat, and he pulls his cock out. 

You climb onto his lap, lining his cock before you push yourself down, his fullness knocking the wind out of you once more. 

“Are you gonna take all of my cum like a good girl?” He hums, wiping away the tears from your eyes. You nod weakly, biting your lip. 

“That’s my good girl”, he compliments, and it makes your heart fucking soar. Mingi bounces you on his cock, groaning at the way you’re squeezing around him. “Fuck, squeeze me just like that. God, your pussy feels so fucking amazing, princess.”

“Mingi, I’m so close. Oh fuck I’m gonna-“

Mingi only holds your thighs down, watching you shake, feeling your cunt just clenching down and flutter on his cock, cream seeping down his shaft, and he groans in your ear, keeping himself deep in your pussy, his thick cum flooding into your tight cunt, listening to you curse while he forces you to ride out your high. 

“So fucking good. Mingi…” you mutter through tears and hiccup, letting Mingi kiss your tears before he slowly pulls his wet cock out of you, satisfied at the way his cum slowly trickles out of you while you catch your breath. 

Mingi waits for your mind to slowly clear, and you climb off him, but your fingers stay interlocked with his. 

“We can wash up and order food if you want”, you say, trying to avoid the fact that you’re still flushing slightly considering Song Mingi made a wreck out of you. 

But he pulls you along with him. 

“An invitation to shower together? I’ll gladly fuckin take it, princess.”

[minkieater]

first time with mingi ִ ִ ִ ࣪𖤐.ᐟ

smut minors dni | wc ~4k

after your third date with mingi, you were impatiently ready to take things further. you traded a fancy restaurant for your living room, roses for snacks, a bottle of red wine for a six pack of beer sitting on the second shelf of your fridge. mingi was cozier than he’d been, sweatpants and a hoodie hanging loose off his body, glasses on his beautiful bare face. you think you might prefer him this way— as sexy as he looked in a black button up and slacks…

you sat on your couch, drinks and snacks sprawled across your coffee table, a massive blanket covering both of your bodies. you were curled into his side, head lying just below his collarbone, legs sprawled across his lap. he had one arm across your legs, the other in your hair, fingers scratching at your scalp: it all felt so domestic. like mingi was meant to be here, with you, as if this wasn’t only your fourth date. 

mingi sat spread out— knees wide, back leaned into the cushions, head lazily placed atop yours. he felt so massive as you clung to him, it was dizzying, you never considered yourself inherently small, but next to him? with his six foot build, broad shoulders, thick thighs, hard chest— he felt so strong beneath you, you knew he could flip you around if he wanted to. the thought was too incriminating for the close proximity you were in. 

the last date had ended with you and mingi lazily making out on your doorstep where you almost invited him in, but you weren’t ready yet— you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself, so you sent him off with swollen, wet lips and pants tighter than they were when he walked you up. tonight was different— you told yourself tonight was the night, you prepared yourself, but sitting with your body wrapped around him made you consider that maybe you’d never be ready for him. 

he made it easier, though, the more his fingers played with your hair, the more you relaxed into him— although it didn’t stop the fidgeting. you don’t think you paid attention to the movie after the first five minutes— mind immediately dropping to the gutter once you felt him under you. 

“you comfortable?” he pulled you from your thoughts, his voice husky yet soft— he caught you and he didn’t even know it. 

you tilted your head up to look at him him as a meek yeah fell off your lips, you saw the moment of realization: when his eyes darkened, glossing over ever so slightly, lips parted barely a centimeter to take a quick inhale. he could see it all over you, you could see it all over him— the acceptance, the want, the need. 

you tilted your chin up first, catching his lips between yours. he groaned into it, hand in your hair tightening at your roots, tilting your head backward with the force he kissed you back with. you gasped into him, lips still moving in a steady rhythm, taking his bottom lip between your own and then his top one, right handing sliding across his clothed chest. 

he deepened the kiss, tongue slipping into your mouth, massaging yours— your head was elsewhere, within seconds your makeout turned hot and heavy, your skin was burning for him. he pushed you back onto the couch with slight questioning force and you answered with no pushback, letting your back hit the cushions freely, arms immediately shooting for his neck to pull him closer. 

he crawled on top of you and you hooked your legs around his hips, fingers tangling behind his neck, feeling the short brown hairs that stood at his nape. he kissed you harder, tongue messily entering your mouth without any shame— you whimpered as your legs tightened around him. 

“shit,” he groaned in response, his voice impossibly deeper as his hips bucked involuntarily, meeting your center which made you both let out high pitched, drawn out noises of pleasure. 

you breathed into each other’s mouths for a moment as you took a pause, the only other noise being the sound of your heartbeats as you both realized where this was headed. he sat up on his calves, running a hand through his hair, you begged your eyes to not drop to his groin, to ignore the clear tent in his sweats. 

“mingi?” you asked a question with just his name, voice small, quiet. he took a breath as if he needed to calm down— in case you didn’t want to take this further. “i want you,” it was almost moaning the way your voice relayed everything you felt, every ember of passion that he ignited the moment he pulled you on top of him. the loss of contact was brutal, you felt cold with the blanket long forgotten and mingi’s body heat so far away. 

it was as if you flipped a switch with how quickly he responded, yet he still asked the question as he crawled on top of you again, “are you sure?” 

“yes,” you said through a breath as your legs hooked around his hips and your fingers tangled in his hair, you needed him closer, his warmth and his weight. 

he groaned before his lips attached to your jaw, sloppy and wet as they trailed from your ear to your chin— back to your lips, then down the column of your throat. your center was throbbing for it— him, aching with a pulse only he could satisfy. your hips pressed into him as his hands traveled up your waist beneath your shirt, using his hips as leverage to grind yourself against him as he felt your skin. 

the noises that left his lips were lewd— husky breaths, deep groans, whimpers when you rolled your hips against him just right. a smile crept onto your face, everything about him, every move he made was so hot you thought you’d explode if you didn’t get more friction. 

“so beautiful, so soft,” he mumbled as he flipped your top above your chest, hands exploring your bare skin, thumbs flicking over your nipples beneath your bralette. 

“take it off,” your voice was long gone— you didn’t sound like yourself anymore— already. you arched your back and he used two fingers to unhook your bra, pulling it over your head with your top. 

nipples hardening under the cool air, he warmed them with his breath before his plump lips wrapped around your left one, thumb coming up to run over your right. you moaned, back arching into him, your lower half trapped beneath his build. his other arm traveled up your waist, just feeling, exploring, caressing— the stimulation was mouth watering, you had no filter, noises leaving your lips without thought. 

“perfect fuckin’ tits,” he announced without even looking at you, mouth moving to your other nipple, wet lips making a trail of spit between them. your head was buried into the cushion, hips begging to be set free, to move, to be touched. 

mingi could feel your desperation and he loved it, he let you squirm, let you beg for it— mingi loved to feel wanted, and your reactions told him you needed him. he was on cloud nine. 

“more,” you mumbled, more under your breath than out loud, and mingi was quick to obey. thumbs hooking into your waistband he pulled them down, lips following, hot wet kisses placed down your torso. 

you squirmed as the cool air hit more bare skin, antsy for more, for his lips, his hands, his fingers— anything he’d give you’d take greedily, then still ask for more. 

his lips hit your hips, teeth nibbling at the bone beneath your skin, making you suck in a harsh breath. he smiled as he got your pants off, hands traveling up your legs, rough palms against the soft flesh of your thighs. he peeled them open, met with dark lace and a smell so sweet he struggled to take his time. a kiss to your ankle, to your calf, just below your knee, he licked the underside of your thigh and your moans grew in pitch and volume. 

it was music to his ears as he pressed another just beside the lace, hands ghosting over your hips, he knew you were impatient but he wanted to savor every moment, every noise, every movement of your hips jutting towards his face. you whined as his thumb skimmed over your center, putting pressure on your clit, still over your panties. 

“don’t tease, please mingi, need you,” he had to ignore your pleas as much as it killed him to– he needed to take it slow, even if you were soaked through the thin lace already, you needed to finish once or twice before he’d even consider fucking you properly. 

“patience, baby,” he once again didn’t look up, too focused on hooking his thumb under the lace, pushing it to the side. his mouth watered as he got a proper look at you, core glistening under the dim light coming from the movie you stopped watching, for a moment he thought he’d start drooling if he didn’t dive into you immediately. 

he licked a fat stripe up the center of your folds and you moaned fully, back arching and head falling backward, the soft weight of his tongue was heavenly. mingi was intoxicated then, one taste of you and he was under a spell, falling deep below the surface of his own greed. he pushed your panties further aside as your legs spread wider, licking into you again, lips sucking on the bundle of nerves at the top. 

your hands flew to his hair, fingers tightening at his roots, keeping his head in place. your voice was high pitched, still breathy and gone as you moaned out, “yes, so fucking good, baby.” 

mingi melted at the praise, if he was motivated before there was no denying it now– his own head growing fuzzy as he ate. tongue licking stripes, dipping into your core, lips sucking around your clit: he felt like an animal. one finally eating after months of hibernation, his saliva mixed with your wetness covered his chin, listening as your moans quickened. 

the tightening in your core was quick– so quick you almost couldn’t believe it. his tongue flicked your clit and you tugged at his roots harder, chanting, “right there, don’t stop, oh fuck–”

he listened as your tone heightened at the end of your instruction, he knew you were close, he needed you over the edge. he kept his rhythm steady, flicking at your clit at a repetitive pace and your moans grew until they got caught in your throat, hips shaking– he had you. 

the pleasure in your abdomen was blinding as he pushed you to your high, it crashed over you in steady waves, your breathing had completely stopped somewhere in your long, dragged out orgasm. as you finally felt the aftershocks and your grip lessened on his hair your breath came back to you in deep heaves, every nerve ending in your body tingling, eyebrows knitted together and jaw slack without any sound. 

“you did so good for me baby,” he cooed, then licked his bottom lip, scooping the wetness off his chin with his index finger and bringing it between his lips. you should feel embarrassed at the lewd display but you couldn’t find it in you– that orgasm was one of the best you’ve ever had, you didn’t have the time to with how quickly he was on top of you again, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

“came hard, huh?” he teased, hands petting at your stomach then traveling up to your chest. 

“mm, yes,” you moaned at the touch, octaves deeper now, “want you inside me.” 

“let’s go to your room?” he pressed another kiss to your lips, palms rubbing along the side of your thighs. you nodded and he helped you up, quickly walking across the hardwood of your floor to your dimly lit bedroom. you mentally thanked yourself for leaving the lamp on your bedside table on. 

you laid down on your perfectly made bed, still stripped down to your panties where mingi was still fully clothed. the change of environment brought consciousness back to you, cheeks flushing at the realization– you laid propped up on your elbows, “mingi, you have too many clothes on.”

he chuckled as he kneeled onto the bed between your knees, hands immediately reaching up to pull his shirt over his head by the collar. your lips parted as he revealed his abdomen, breath escaping your lungs. you immediately sat up to touch, his skin was soft and warm, toned and hard and sexy. you pressed kisses along his stomach as he kneeled level with your head, your hands trailing up his thick thighs as his came down to play in your hair again. your plan was to take your time, it was your turn to taste him, but he pushed you onto your back– “need to see you cum again.”

“wanna make you cum,” you argued even if his words made your abdomen clench. 

he shook his head and then kissed your cheek, “next time, wanna make you feel good tonight.”

how could you argue with that?

he kissed down your jaw as both of his thumbs hooked under the straps of your panties, you lifted your hips so he could pull them all the way off. his hand quickly came to your center again, you gasped as he let a finger slip between your folds. still sensitive, you shuddered, hips backing off his touch. he followed them, finger pressing onto your clit, placing careful pressure before working it in a circle. you moaned, giving in, eyes softly closing– he pressed his lips to yours, soft and sweet and the opposite to what he was doing between your legs. 

he slipped a finger inside and you gasped, mingi took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, missing the way your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure. he started pumping slowly, curling inside you until your lips stopped responding, too far gone in the feeling. 

“come on, can’t have you going dumb before you get the real thing,” he teases with a smile, you crack your lids open just to whine and his smile grows– “this is just one finger, what will you do when it’s my cock? hmm?”

the teasing was nothing but added pleasure, moans flew from your lips as he hit the spongy spot inside you, making your entire body twitch. he giggles before adding another finger, you think he’s enjoying this way too much– if he could hear your thoughts, he’d agree. he curls them again, his pressure growing firmer, his thrusts getting faster. you could feel it again, the pit of pleasure steadily growing, your body getting hotter. your moans picked up, the filter leaving you again, eyes falling shut and jaw going slack. 

“fuck,” you cried, “you’re– too fucking good at this,” you spoke between moans, hands flying to his bare, strong shoulders, gripping to hold you steady, keep you grounded. 

“give me another,” he encourages, “open up for me, baby.” 

you don’t know how much more open you could be– legs spread, bent knees pressed against his thighs, the strength of them effectively holding them open, restricting any movement. you could feel yourself clenching around him, but you couldn’t stop, the feeling of his thick fingers curling against you was too fucking good. the pressure grew heavier, pleasure pooling at the pit of your stomach, feeling as if soon you’d overflow. 

“come on,” his voice was strained now, mouth hovering over yours, his breath floating from his lips to your own. “cum again, then you can have all of me. wanna feel you so bad.” 

his words were enough to push you over, toppling beyond a ledge so high you began free falling, eyes screwed tight, breathless and brainless for even longer than the last time. you thought your body might begin steaming soon, with the heat of his own and the sheer pleasure he’s giving you– it was all too much. you were unabashedly moaning now, cries leaving your lips, the intimacy of having him so close to you was dizzying. your brain became mush a long time ago, the fog only worsening, blinding you as much as your orgasm did. 

“yes, there we go, good fuckin’ girl,” his praise was like a prayer, “cum all over me, wanna taste it.”

oh– he was just as far gone as you. you scrambled for his waistband like your orgasm was no obstacle, “need you,” you whimpered, giving him no time to think as you yanked his sweats over his hips. 

you needed to be closer, it wasn’t enough, you needed more. mingi didn’t argue nor hesitate, rolling his sweats off his ankles, “condom?”

you shook your head too fast for the responsible part of you to intervene. “got tested, just pull out.”

he tilted his head with an intake of air, “you trust me to pull out of this pussy?” 

“fuck it, i’ll take the pill,” you decided, and somehow even more adrenaline coursed through mingi’s veins. his smile was wide as he threw his sweats to the floor, and your eyes widened at your view. 

“holy shit,” you couldn’t hold it back, salivating at his length– rock solid, standing straight up against his stomach, pink and leaking and impatient, “i need you inside me now.”

firm fingers grabbed onto the flesh of your thighs, he leaned down to spit on your core, using his tongue to spread the wetness– not that you needed any extra help after two orgasms. “such a pretty fuckin’ pussy, could eat you every day.” 

your hands grabbed for his length, one gripping him at the base as you spit on the other, meeting to spread your spit along him, mixing with the precum that dripped down his tip. he whimpered as you touched him, a beautiful sound, one you wanted to hear with him buried in the back of your throat. another time. 

“take a deep breath for me,” he said as he lined himself up, your thighs laid atop his, body sprawled out beneath him. you obeyed, breathing down to the bottom of your lungs as he pushed in slowly, you both moaned at the same time, in the same way– relief. 

“you’re huge,” you say, eyes screwed shut as he inches himself in, you weren’t sure if it was a compliment or a complaint. 

“you can do it,” he responds with a cocky smile, “open up for me.”

again with that sentence, you supposed he meant relax for him. you beckoned your body to untense, starting from your fingers to your toes, your face to your hips, and he moaned in relief. “yes, just like that,” his voice was strained, eyes trained on your core as he sheathed himself at your base, the small tufts of hair at your base tangling as they met. 

“so good, so fuckin’ tight, baby,” he let his head droop between his shoulders, forehead just a millimeter from yours, your hands reached up to cup his cheeks. 

you whispered into his lips as you tilted his head up, “move.” you attached your lips to his as he pulled out and quickly realized that was a mistake, lips parting but unresponsive as he began rocking into you, filling you with every thick inch of him. 

stressed moans poured into his mouth from yours, the pleasure was tantalizing– he filled you up perfectly, cock curved upward to hit that spot inside of you with every stroke– you immediately knew you wouldn’t last long. the pleasure from your two orgasms were nothing compared to what he felt like inside you: full and dripping, the noises that came from your meeting were embarrassingly wet. squelching, you couldn’t bother to blame the heat in your body on embarrassment– it was him, his body heat, the sweat forming on your forehead from the force of him as a whole. 

you could get used to this. earth-shattering, it was, feeling yourself mold to his size, as if you were built to take him. your body rocked from the force, chest bouncing from his thrusts that grew harsher, moaning and whining and crying into his groaning lips. 

“pussy so good,” he moaned, voice heavy and husky as your thoughts aligned, “it’s like you were made for me.”

“i was,” you respond with the strength of nothing but sheer will, “all yours, mingi.” 

“fuck,” he groaned with a particularly harsh thrust, “say that again.” 

“i’m yours,” you moaned, nails digging into his shoulders, “all fuckin’ yours.”

“‘m not gonna last,” he said, voice breathy as if he was holding back. he took a hand between your legs, two fingers working circles into your clit, “need you to cum for me.” 

you arched your back into him, hips meeting his thrusts, the pressure beginning to build almost immediately. your brain was somewhere else, words blending together, “wan’ you to fill me up, mingi. make me yours.” 

he whimpered, high pitched and unashamed, “gonna fill you up so good, baby. fill you up with my cum.” 

you moaned into the shell of his ear as the pressure blew, rocking into you harder than his thrusts, your joints locking up and nails no doubt clawing shells into his shoulder. your moan was nearly a cry as you came around his length, clenching, squeezing him with everything you had– he followed right after, hips losing their rhythm, releasing small gasps as his hips came to a still, releasing into you. 

you could feel the warmth as he unloaded, feeling fuller than you’ve ever been in your life. he fell onto his elbows above you, hips still flesh against yours, stomach heaving into your own, breathing into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. he took a moment before he pulled out carefully, rolling onto his side. 

“you okay?” he asked, a hand searching for you, finding relief on top of your stomach. 

you took a second to answer, dazed, eyes already fluttered shut. it was nothing more than a weak mhm that fell from your lips, and he responded with an innocent giggle. you could see him without opening your eyes, you knew he laid there with a lopsided grin and a moving chest, his eyes shaped like crescents. it brought a smile to your own face with an even weaker chuckle leaving your lips. 

“let’s get you cleaned up, lover–” he placed a kiss on your cheek, but your eyes didn’t open– “shower or bath? … do you have a bathtub?” 

a real laugh fell from your lips, it took every ounce of energy you had left. when you felt the slight trickle of him leaking out of you it shocked reality back into your senses, your eyes shot open. “oh shit– bath, carry me there?” 

you were right: lopsided grin, heaving chest and crescent shaped eyes laid beside you, but he was quick to move, scooping you up bridal style, walking you to your bathroom. you sat on the toilet while he filled the tub, but he joined you in the hot water, a strong wall behind you as the water soothed the post-sex ache. 

he kissed the top of your head from behind you– “i think this might be a bad time to ask, but we’re exclusive now, right?” 

you smiled as your head fell to his shoulder, “yeah, baby, ‘m all yours.”

[matzofficial]

💭 — SAY HELLO TO THE BABY!

pairing. bf!ateez x reader cw. none.

notes. omg it's been a hot minute uni is literally kicking me in the ass ;;-;; so i needed a little cuteness overload! i hope you like it <3 reblogs and comments are appreciated. see you in the next post~!

[iannmin]

too big | j.yh 정윤호

tags + warnings: 18+ mdni, huge!yunho x small!reader, size kink, breeding kink, short drabble

synopsis: yunho’s huge, everything about him is huge, and it’s all fun and games until -

a/n: really think yunho would do this tbh, making you feel small and helpless as you take him so well :((

୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

messy bangs and sweat dripping down his forehead, he attempted to breach your entrance. you gasped “s’big…nnnngh…too big” His red veiny tip was barely through your folds and you were already blabbering incoherently, nails digging into his back. as if it wasn’t enough, he grabbed your thighs and hooked it over his shoulder, setting you up in a mating press, trapping you in the sheets. now there’s no escape. “shhh..you can take this princess c’mon”. He pressed a gentle and light kiss on your forehead, “it’s gonna fit. I’ll make it fit.” he whispers, wrapping his left hand around your tiny waist, hands so huge that it covered the majority of your waistline. he put his right hand on your mouth, and in one snap, he sinks his entire length into your heat. you let out a muffled scream, eyes rolling backwards, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. You swear you felt your walls tear from the stretch. “s-so mean..yunho meanie….nnnngh..hurts” he smiles innocently at your broken words “but I made it fit princess” he takes your left hand that was helplessly gripping the sheets, and placed it on top of your belly, and that’s when you felt it. a bulge in your stomach. his huge bulge. he lets out a groan of relief, burying his low moans against the crook of your neck. “m’gonna breed you so full, so so full.”

[jensthwa]

we can't be friends (CS x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

San is your first love. He broke your heart and played with your feelings without even kissing you back when you two were in highschool. Now, many years later, you do your best to avoid crossing paths with him because there's just no way you could ever hate him, but there's also no way you two can be friends again. But his best friend is also one of your best friends, so there's only so much you can do to avoid San when he arranges a dinner you're forced to go to.

PAIRING: first love!choi san x afab reader.

GENRE: one shot (fluff, angst, smut)

WORD COUNT: 20k (yikes).

WARNINGS: SMUT ☽ (MINORS DNI) attempt !!! at comedy, unnecesary pinning, a looot of context, bad friends :(, some arguing, tension, drinking and drunk behavior, tears, making out, description of female anatomy, oral (f reciving), fingering, love making, pet names (babe, baby), flirty seonghwa, wooyoung being a little shit again but also a genius, gyuri almost commiting a crime.

NOTES: hi everyone! this is a lenghty one, i know, but trust me when I say the context is necessary to understand what reader goes through with san. also, some of this may or may not have happened to me (have fun figuring out which part) (it's quite obvious tbh). THIS IS PART OF THE SHOW AND TELL UNIVERSE BUT CAN BE READ AS A STAND ALONE, even though there's some references and characters that you can only know if you read s&t lol. this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: august 06 2024.

permanent taglist: @hotteokkay, @potatomountain, @fairylover68

masterlist.

You and Choi San go way back. 

Well, it's nine years way back? You were only fourteen when you first saw him. 

He moved back to your area of the city a year after you moved from an entirely different one. You thought you knew every school secret there ever was, provided by your new best friend, Gyuri, but she didn't tell you about him at all. 

She claimed that it was because he didn't cause any stir the years they studied together before and after spending a whole first period in your eighth grade classroom with him at the back of the class, silently taking notes, you couldn't phantom why.

He was great at every subject, seemed to have a lot of popular friends and was, overall, a pretty nice guy. He was also very cute, skinny but you could tell he was the kind of guy who played a sport outside of school hours and he had a cute pair of dimples that showed everytime you scanned the classroom just to lay eyes on him. 

Choi San was a perfect boy to crush on, even a perfect guy just to have as eye candy during recess. You felt really strongly about him, not really forming a full opinion although your gut told you right away you were right. There was something about him… but you only figured that something until later, next year, starting your ninth grade. 

Gyuri and you were avid readers. Precocious girls, with minds way above your age. All your teachers praised came laced with the same compliment so you both decided that was the truth. You rejoiced in it, thinking you shared things in common with the grown ups and decided that that was the key to feeling a little superior in comparison to the rest of your classmates, who neither of you liked very much. 

Until they all decided to start dating each other and you two realized you were nothing but two kids with great imaginations and a love for school, praise and fictional men that couldn't be translated to the real world without sounding delusional and weird. 

So you decided to do something about it. And so, on a random Tuesday recess, you two scanned the crowd trying to find two boys (or a boy and a girl, because you always knew you liked girls too) worthy of your affections. One for her, one for you. Bonus points if the two of them were also best friends, of course. 

Double dates were all the buzz at the time anyways. 

Besides, only then they could understand the bond you and Gyuri had. Sisterhood like no other, nevermind Gyuri actually had an older sister and a niece at the ripe age of fifteen. 

And so when your index finger scanned the crowd and eliminated at least three potential crushes before landing on Choi San, you felt like it was meant to be. 

You see, his best friend, Jung Wooyoung, was perfect for Gyuri to crush on. He was almost as tall as she was at the time and his easy, outgoing personality was compatible with her book crush at the time as well. 

He also flirted with her on several occasions before that. 

So it was meant to be. 

Choi San, on the other hand, had never even glanced in your direction before. 

Just like your book crush did before he fell in love with the main character. 

See? Meant. To. Be. 

It was decided then that, although Choi San was not going to be your first crush ever, he was going to be the guy that motivated you to be at school for the time being, because math gets really boring after trying and failing at least ten times. 

You thought nothing of it when it felt a little forced, when you couldn't blush at all at the sight of him and you gathered that it didn't need to happen like in the books you read. You simply needed to say his name when someone asked you if you had a crush on anyone and that was enough to be in symphony with the rest of your classmates. 

Your longing glances were caught once or twice by him and you brushed the weird flip your stomach did everytime he looked away, blushing a little. You never really cared when it happened, really, knowing his crowd and your crowd (Gyuri and you) would never even cross paths in the first place. 

You two kept to yourselves and your little book unofficial book club, sitting on the floor at lunch time and cursing everyone who dared to call you weird for it. San and Wooyoung had a crowd of people at the loudest table laughing with them over stupid teen jokes and, uh, sports? You didn't even know. 

And then the unimaginable happened. 

Jung Wooyoung sat down, criss cross applesauce and everything, in front of you on a random Monday afternoon while you and Gyuri discussed the english assignment due next period. 

Gyuri was not too excited about that. 

Turns out, the only one excited to have a crush at school was you. She was very much still in the Lonely Hearts Club phase while you skipped all the way to your The Notebook phase and she was, in her own words, too afraid to admit it when you came up with your crush plan. 

You forgave her, of course, and decided to wait for her as long as needed because you were certainly not about to be an individual and have a crush on your own. 

And by the time Wooyoung smiled at you both and introduced himself to you, like you weren't in the same class for a year already, you thought your pretend crush on his best friend evaporated and joined the void superficial and fleeting interests you had. 

But then Choi San sat beside him, his knee brushing against yours in the process, and you knew you would have to issue a formal apology to your best and only friend for leaving her behind on this little thing. 

Because, oh boy, were you crushing on Choi San. 

You felt the blush rush to your cheeks and then fell silent while your friend and his friend discussed Fifty Shades of Grey for some reason you never cared enough to discover and you knew you were done for.

It was the first time seeing his dimples in full action, so close to you, so you completely stopped functioning all together. Amazing. 

When you decided to have a crush, you never took into account that you were, actually, quite shy. And he really wasn't, but you noticed that he knew when to talk and what to say and with your friend being a lot more outgoing that you were it gave you the comfort that she would speak for the both of you while you admired from the sidelines as your little duo became a group of friends you still miss deeply to this day. 

He was funny and you laughed at your jokes even though you pretended to be tired and completely worn out by the school day, resting your head on Gyuri’s shoulder and stealing glances at the boy while she kept arguing with his best friend. 

Wooyoung was popular and liked enough to have a few people sit with you later that week, people who never even knew you existed before that. They were good friends with San as well, so you tried your best to keep up with everyone until she sat down next to you one day. 

Arin was not really a bad person. She just was a bit conceited, calling herself princess type of conceited and you never really related to her even if she was nice to you to your face. She was absolutely gorgeous and, you found out with Wooyoung’s arm around your shoulder and a whisper to your ear, she had been San’s crush since they were both in elementary school. 

That would explain the sudden tension at the table when she sat down next to you, said hello to everyone, offered you a sweet she just bought from the cafeteria, and stared at San for the remainder of lunch time. 

You also noticed Wooyoung glaring at her a little and he later explained to you that he didn't really like her all that much. She loved attention and San gave her attention, so she would intentionally flirt with him to get her ego stroked in return. 

It didn't really matter how he felt about the girl, though, he didn't have to like her just because his best friend did. And when you caught her batting her eyelashes at San, you knew you didn't even stand a chance.

You tried to hide the disappointed look on your face but both Gyuri and Wooyoung looked at you while the two of them flirted endlessly for the remainder of lunch time and you figured you were doing a pretty shitty job at it. He didn't glance at you once either way, so it didn't really matter. 

Arin did but she just complimented your eyes and then started a conversation with someone across the table, her annoying sweet and fake voice making your right ear ring in disapproval. 

Either way, you ended up becoming her friend. Gyuri was not very fond of her and neither were you, but you all went to the bathroom together, did your makeup together, did school projects together and then sat everyday at lunch together with the rest of the guys who were, in one way or another, trying to get her to like them. 

Because, once again, she was a sight for sore eyes. 

It wasn't until later, in the middle of the year, that one of them did. Not Choi San, but Choi Yeonjun. 

You remember the day you found out they were together and the gut wrenching concern you felt when you found out that San was not at school that day. 

It was after summer break, you remember Wooyoung telling you that San and his family took a few more days of vacation and if you couldn't believe your eyes when you saw the new couple sharing a sweet kiss at the designated lunch table, you could only imagine how San felt the next day when he saw the same image right in front of him. 

Yeonjun was his friend, right? He knew about his crush and decided to get together with her anyways. Surely, San was devastated. 

But he wasn't. He just cheered them on and then laughed along when Yeonjun shoved his arm playfully after the hollering. 

But you saw through it. 

Your crush on San made you observant. Made you believe you knew him better than everyone else and so, after lunch, you took out your phone and pulled up the notes app. Writing a simple “are you okay?” in it and passing it to him the next second, you were surprised with yourself before you saw him frown a bit. And then he understood what you meant. 

Nodding, he passed you the phone back, before giving you a reassuring smile that you treasured in your heart and saw in your dreams. 

You didn't believe him, though, but stayed close enough to everything related to the situation to hold Arin in your arms when Yeonjun inevitably broke her heart. 

Starting your tenth year, he moved back to his city and decided to play the I thought we weren't even that serious card on her. Which was nasty, considering love it's very, very serious for a sixteen year old girl. 

By this point, you were all a little family and hanging out after school and on the weekends was not unusual, so it didn't surprise you when Arin invited you, and only you, to her house after choir practice on a Thursday. 

She lent you her older sister’s clothes to wear (because her's would never fit you. Her words, not yours) and took you to a walk in the park just to break your heart for the first time ever. 

“You know… I thought love was something I couldn't find in highschool anymore. But San it's really making an effort, you know? He's been there for me ever since Yeonjun left and… Well, I think he's going to ask me to be his girlfriend tomorrow.” 

Grasping the park bench she forced you to sit at, you only nodded and let out a shuddering breath that gave away what she was trying to figure out since earlier that day. 

“I'll say yes but only if you say it's okay to do so.” 

Arin was not really your friend, the same way Yeonjun was not really San’s friend. 

Because there's no way you would ever be okay with it. 

And yet, you tried your best to give her a smile and pretend the sound of your heart breaking didn't bring tears to your eyes “Of course it's okay. Why wouldn't it be?” 

A week later, they were officially dating. The rumors spread around like a wildfire and it took out of you with everyone calling San a nasty rebound and you doing your best to prioritize the ghost of the friendship you had with him. That whole fiasco lasted a few months. 

Months in which your friendship with everyone just grew stronger. Gyuri was still your best friend, Wooyoung was crushing on her hard and everyone knew, Arin and San were a steady couple, a new girl joined your class that year, named Yeri, and the principal assigned her to you because she thought you two would get along really well. 

“I like girls,” was like, the third thing she ever told you while you were showing her the school “I'm just telling you now because I don't plan on hiding it and you are wearing a pride pin.” 

“Oh, that's cool. I like girls too,” you smiled, looking at your pride pin “I didn't hide it either and no one gave me shit about it, so, don't worry.” 

Yeri also liked the mainstream music that you liked and soon she became a new addition to your group. And with Arin spending all of her free time with San, you, Gyuri and Yeri only grew closer and closer. You didn't have Arin’s voice in your ear telling you the million reasons she found Yeri uncool, but you saw it in her face every time the table laughed at one of Yeri’s jokes. 

And so, it went on for a while: 

Your mom driving all of you around in her car to the beach, to dinner, to the movies and letting you have mixed sleepovers at your house (meaning you, Arin, Gyuri, Wooyoung, Yeri and San) was fun and all, but it was not enough to distract yourself entirely. Everytime you glanced at the couple, that sinking feeling in your chest would appear and sulk your whole mood for, at least, fifteen minutes.  

Fifteen minutes of pretending you were okay with them before forgetting completely for an hour or so and then the cycle would repeat until you were alone staring at the ceiling and doing your best to not cry about it.

All it took was your first kiss being Yeri of all people for you to decide that it was time to retire your crush for Choi San once and for all. 

And for a while, it all went according to plan. You decided to tell Gyuri that it was okay because he was your friend first and the guy that you liked second and that you were not fourteen and desperate for love anymore, that it was time to go on with your life as if nothing really happened in the first place. 

You were hooking up with Yeri anyways, so it seemed like you were doing just fine. 

You grew closer to San as well and even though he mostly talked to you about Arin and whatever tantrum she was throwing at the time, you really started to feel some sense of normalcy within you when it came to just speaking to him. 

You no longer blushed when he made you laugh, you no longer looked at him with the longing of a past life lover and you were really happy for him because, at the end of the day, he was really happy with his relationship. 

Until winter break came around and Arin decided to give San his first heartbreak ever. 

She decided to call for a break in their relationship because she was, in his words, too overwhelmed with the amount of love and attention she was getting from him. 

Which was completely fucking insane considering the fact she forced him to save her contact as Princess Arin and all. 

So naturally, you sided with him. And she didn't take it to heart because everyone knew you liked San anyways. 

She told you the news herself through Facebook after asking you to explain to her the English assignment due next day and then she decided to tell you something you'll never understand because you no longer are on speaking terms with her: 

Princess Arin: u know i broke up with him because of u right? :) 

Princess Arin: one day I'll tell u all abt it. 

She never told you anything about it. And by then, you were starting your last year and San was your best friend who hung out with you everyday after school, calling you late at night and helping you with assignments through Skype. So you didn't really care. 

And as the day passed, you started understanding the connection they talked about in books and movies. You thought you did before, Gyuri being your eternal person in this world, but it felt so different with San. 

Different and good. Different and achy enough for you to want to keep it in your life. 

Your dynamic was friendly, sure, but it was alright. It consisted of banter and daring stares as well as laughter and soft moments you treasured till this day. 

“It's way too early to be this annoying, Choi San.” 

“Oh, you think this is me being annoying?”

You both got an hour of detention for disturbing the class that day. 

You loved it. 

But then, after almost a month of picking up the broken pieces of his heart one by one, and your mother giving him a self-help book to make him regain the confidence he lost during the breakup process, you realized that you were in love with him and there was nothing you could do about that. 

You noticed one friday afternoon, when he offered to pay for your and your mom's ice cream at the drive through, when he scrambled to get all the change he had on him to leave a tip for the person who handed you guys the sweet treat, that there was no way you didn't love him. 

And it was confusing as fuck when everyone else started to tell you he had feelings for you as well. 

“Think about it. You text each other good morning everyday” Yeri listed with her finger and you nodded “Then, you go to school, sit together and spend the rest of the day together” another nod “Then after school you either go get ice cream together or hang out for a bit with your mom while she drives him home. And after that, you get on Skype for the reminder of the afternoon and then he calls you on your house phone and you two spend the rest of the night talking before falling asleep on the line together,” she looked at you like you were insane for even denying the accusations made against San, but she continued anyway “And then it's rinse and repeat and it has been that way since… What? Three months ago?” 

You nodded again, defeated. 

“Girl, he likes you.” she sighed, annoyed and a little tired, before sitting on your lap and kissing your lips affectionately “And you're here making out with me instead of him. You really are a lost cause.”

That didn't stop you from hooking up with her until she found a girl who's heart was not reserved for someone else, though. Said girl went to a different school and was a year younger than all of you, but she looked very happy and stopped secretly kissing you in the school bathroom like a week after they met. 

And when she finally told everyone, you were really happy for her, but San not so much. 

It was the night you thought everything was about to change. The night you thought he was about to kiss you or you were about to kiss him, whatever happened first. 

Laying in your bed, facing each other in the dim light, he thought it was the biggest form of betrayal and pouted the whole time he explained to you why. 

He thought you liked her and you realized he didn't really pay attention to you after all. Not the way you did with him. 

Bless his heart. 

You didn't kiss him that night because he wouldn't shut up about you and Yeri. 

“I mean, why couldn't it be you? She clearly liked you if you two were hooking up for over a year” and when his hand came to rest on your back, under your shirt, you breath hitched enough for him to notice it but not enough for him to just don't do anything about it except trace the curve of your silhouette with the pad of his thumb “I don't understand why anyone would pass the opportunity to be with you.” 

Huh. Maybe he did have feelings for you. 

No. He's just being a great best friend. Don't take that for granted. 

But it was impossible for you not to take Yeri’s words seriously as time went on. 

You didn't want to think he was giving you mixed signals, but yet again there was that one time when you reached behind your passenger seat in your mothers car to pinch his leg playfully after he pulled on your hair a little bit from behind, only to end up holding his hand the rest of the car trip to his house. 

His fingers slowly caressing the back of your hand were just too much for you not to get everything mixed up. 

Or that other time when your school held a Woman's Day event, and your class president decided that all the boys in the class were going to give roses to the girls.

When it was your turn to get a rose, you knew no one would give you one. But Yeri stood in line and collected a rose from the bin before the class president had the opportunity to say anything else. 

“I'll take that, thank you very much.” She turned to you, smiling. San blocked her way to you a second after. 

“And just what do you think you're doing?” 

“Giving my best girl a rose, of course.” She peeked around him, giving you a wink that you could only roll your eyes to. 

San turned to you, the fondness in his eyes making you question the decision of not pretending to be sick that day. It was too much for you to handle. 

“To the back of the line, then. I already called dibs on her,” he turned to your friend, snatching the rose from her hand in one swift move “I'll take that, thank you very much.” 

He had no idea what that meant to you back then. It was true that, at school, he behaved a little differently than when you two were alone. 

He was athletic, so he had some friends that you were sure used to ask him what the fuck was he doing wasting his time with a girl like you instead of getting a new girlfriend. 

He had a family that didn't approve of yours, too. You felt it the first time you met his mom and, even though she was nice to you and your mom, you could feel the judgemental stare she gave both of you when your mom told her she was a single parent. 

San told you that it didn't really matter, that his mom didn't have to like you because you weren't her friend, you were his. 

He played with your feelings a little too well. Wanting him, adoring him and letting yourself be consumed by the thought of him loving you back was enough to keep it going. To ignore the fluttering way your heart kept beating whenever he talked to you which was all the time. 

You assumed the way he behaved with you in private was the real him. The one who didn't care about appearances or his family approval. 

The one who cared about you. 

It was dizzying and fantastic and you thought he just might've been the love of your life. 

But then he would tell you how much it hurted when he saw Arin at school and how much he missed her, the intimacy they shared before, and reality would come crashing down and setting your delusions on fire again. 

He had sex with Arin. You would never stand a chance. 

Or so you thought he did. Except when you overheard Arin speaking to her friends and that was the first time you ever got mad at Choi San.

“And, you know, me and San were never intimate like that so I wouldn't know but I think boys have no idea how to please a woman if they tried to.” 

What? 

Oh. So he lied to you. 

And you were so upset by the thought of him making up stories of their intimate time together that it didn't even cross your mind that Arin might've been lying to save face. 

So when he came back from the bathroom and sat at his usual desk in front of you, you didn't even think about his feelings when you decided to treat him like shit for lying about something so important like sex to your face. 

“Leave me alone, San! I don't want to fucking talk to you right now!” 

The hurt expression he gave you after that is one you would never be able to forget. 

But you grew to be stubborn and a little overprotective of your own feelings, so you thought him playing the part of your best friend all these months and sweet talking to you was just another one of his lies. 

“You guys not being friends right now doesn't make any fucking sense, sweetheart.” Wooyoung's tone is careful and laced with affection, but you knew he was playing the devil's advocate on behalf of San. With his arm around Gyuri’s shoulder (by that point, they were a thing for over two months) you could swear you saw him smirk when the nickname brought a scowl to your face. 

He might've been worried, but he was also a little shit. 

“You really are going to let Arin ruin what you two have?” Your best friend was, of course, on your side. But she was your best friend for a reason and her love included pointing out when you were behaving like an infant at the age of seventeen and a half. 

“You two are practically dating and you're going to let the evil ex-girlfriend get in the way? Over something you weren't even supposed to hear in the first place? Come on.” 

Again, Wooyoung was a little shit. And you were so upset about everything that you shyness couldn't even help the fury behind your reply: 

“Stop saying that! We are not practically dating, he's in love with Arin and I'm not sure I even like him like that anymore!” Getting tired of everyone and their mother (your mother) feeding your delusions, you came to the conclusion that putting a stop to your friendship with Choi San was for the best. 

And, in doing so, you ended up breaking your own heart for the second time in your life. 

But he didn't put up an easy fight at all. You remember the feeling of pure joy when he grabbed your hand on the way to the cafeteria one day, pulling you so hard you almost ended up sitting in his lap, and the way his pleading eyes begged you to listen to him one last time. 

“Us not being friends doesn't feel right, Y/N…” he said and the word he used to categorize what both of you had hurted you, but you pushed the feeling away “Please, let's not fight anymore. I don't even know what happened, but I forgive you for yelling at me and I hope you forgive me for whatever it is you think I did.” 

Of course, you forgave him the next second without thinking too much about it. And for a while, everything went back to normal. You Skyped as usual and occasionally you let your other friends join the call even though it didn't really feel like it used to before. 

The next thing you knew, your feelings were in full bloom again and when you realized it, it was too late. 

Because by then, you had already let your childhood friend, Sunhee, join a few Skype calls and by the fourth one she invited her friend, Minseo, to them as well. 

Terrible, terrible mistake. Because even through the screen, you could see that Minseo looked a lot like Arin with the added bonus that she was down to earth and cool and liked the same things San liked.

You liked the same things San liked as well, but it never seemed to matter. 

Because not even two months after you decided to stop talking to San over a lie you weren't supposed to find out in the first place and then became friends one more time, he gets together with Minseo and you're sick to your stomach all over again. 

You hated her. Not because she was, suddenly, his girlfriend (not girlfriend girlfriend, but in a friends with benefits arrangement you never even knew why he agreed on in the first place) but because suddenly she was so fucking obnoxious and didn't seem to like you either. 

Was it not painfully obvious San didn't have feelings for you? Why was she mad at you then? You literally brought them together! 

And all you got in return was her telling him she didn't feel comfortable with him having a girl best friend. That ungrateful bitch. 

He stopped calling. He stopped texting, he stopped carpooling with you and your mom after school and he stopped caring whether your math assignment was done or not. 

He stared pulling away more and more and it didn't matter how hard you tried to get him to talk to you, it seemed like he never really fucking cared about you in the first place. 

And by may that year, you didn't speak to San anymore. Granted, the only person he did speak to was Wooyoung, but even their friendship was falling apart. 

For the first time ever, San broke your heart firsthand. And it felt really, really fucking bad. 

You cried to your mom about it, she reminded you that you were nothing but a great friend to him and that, if he didn't take the time to appreciate that, that was his loss not yours. 

And she started hating him from that moment on. But you couldn't hate San, not even a little bit. 

Why would you hate him for not liking you back? For not loving you the way you loved hi— 

Your laptop closes down right in front of you and when you try to look up to find out who's responsible for interrupting your writing time, you get interrupted again. 

“Ouch! What the fuck, Gyuri?” The slap to the back of your head is quick and filled with rage. 

“What the fuck are you even writing. I can read from here, you know?” 

“I'm just laying my feelings down and— Ouch! Stop that!” You try to hit her back but she turns away quickly when your hands almost knock her coffee mug out of hers. 

“You can't possibly still have love for San, Y/N. It's been years.”

It's been four and a half, to be precise. But who's counting, right? 

“And why are you writing it in third person? You don't usually do that.” 

“I don't really know, Gyuri!” 

“I’m telling you, this celebratory dinner bullshit it's affecting you way more than it should,” she sighs, plopping down on the couch of your shared living room, and you leave your seat at the table to join her “He might not even show up. He has that thing with Kyungmi.” 

Kyungmi. 

You couldn't get to that part on your open document, but San left Minseo when he met Kyungmi at one of the frat parties they love to attend. Wooyoung told you that he said that it was love at first sight and you even met her briefly when you picked Gyuri up from the apartment he and San got when they started college together. 

She’s gorgeous and doesn't look like Arin or Minseo at all. It’s a different type of gorgeous. She's a year older than San and went to the same school as them and Gyuri. 

You think you might even like her better than him. 

You tried to be happy for San when you found out, but you two barely even speak a word to each other and you convinced yourself a while ago that you couldn't care less if he sees right through you and your fake smiles. 

You gathered, after everything happened, that San knew you liked him and took advantage of that. Unintentionally, but he did anyway. 

You sigh, resting your head on your best friend's shoulder. “It’s his best friend's celebratory dinner, though, he needs to be there.” 

Two seconds pass and then you both say it at the same time: “He’s in love.” 

And when San is in love, he has a one track mind with the name of his lover as the goal. 

You nod, but you can't help but to be insistent “It's Wooyoung's celebratory dinner, he needs to show up, right?” 

“I might not even show up, he's a pain in the ass.” She replies but you can tell her annoyance is not genuine and it makes you smile. 

Gyuri and Wooyoung broke up towards the end of your first year of college but you all stayed close friends. A one year relationship was not enough to fuck up the friendship they had and they decided to stay civil until, eventually, they became close friends again. 

To this day, you wonder why you and San couldn't rekindle your friendship when it became clear to you that you missed your friend and not the guy that you liked. 

Because San was always your friend first and your first love second. 

But it doesn't really matter anymore, because Gyuri is forcing you to shower and reminding you that you two need to keep Wooyoung on his best behavior tonight. 

“That girl he used to like before me is going, he said. I looked her up, she's single and he needs to get together with her because I can't take him whining about it anymore.” 

They keep things with each other way too civil, you think. 

“I'm telling you, if we don't show up he's going to do that thing where he gets drunk and makes a fool of himself. I can't have that, I'm on a mission.” 

“A mission to get your ex laid?” You ask, shampooing your hair. 

“A mission to get him a girlfriend so he can stop crying to me about feeling lonely.” 

“Maybe he wants you guys to—” The shower curtain opens and you see your best friend’s scowl before covering yourself up with your hands. 

“Gyuri!”

“Don't you dare say what you were about to say or I'm divorcing you.” 

You chuckle “Sure you are.”

You're left alone again with the water stream and she goes back to do her makeup “I told you back in ninth grade that we weren't a great fit and I was right. We can't get back together,” she sighs “It'll ruin everything.” 

“I doubt it will but you guys have been friends longer than you were boyfriend and girlfriend, so I'll just have to deal with my parents being divorced and civil.” 

“God, don't ever refer to us like that again— Oh! Speaking of parents,” you see her beam at her phone when you move the shower curtain to search for your towel and then she shows it to you “Mingi and Love just celebrated their one year anniversary!” 

Love being Mingi’s best friend. Gyuri talks to you about her college friend group all the time. The drama fuels your dinner conversations, you even follow a few of them on social media. 

“What does that have to do with parents?”

“They're the mom and dad of the group.” 

San is in that friend group, you can see him in the back of the picture and you recognize his apartment layout too. He's not the main focus of it but he's all you can see until you notice the couple sitting near him on the couch. 

The picture shows both of them, her in his lap and Mingi looking at her with stars in his eyes. 

Good for them. 

“Is that the girl he was friends with forever before they finally realized that they were in love?” 

“Yeah,” she sighs in contempt, looking down at the picture again “I was there the day it happened. I mean, not physically with them, but they left Yunho's party together and I told Wooyoung that it was finally about to happen!”

Gyuri is not a romantic person at all. Her excitement shows you that she really loves them and so you soften at the news that would usually give you and your dry love life a headache “It was the day before you called me to get you out of that awful date.” 

Ah, that also happened back then. You shudder at the memory.

“Tell them I say congrats, babe.” 

“I'm bringing you as my plus one.” 

You laugh, confused “To where?” 

“Their wedding, duh.” 

“They practically just got together,” you remind her, a year is not enough time to propose “And I don't really know them, Gyuri!” 

“They love you,” she assures you as you step out of the shower “I have been speaking about your antisocial ass for years. They can't wait to meet you.” 

“So you've been shit talking behind my back for years? Is that what I'm hearing?” 

She laughs “No, babe, that's Wooyoung's job.” 

Clearing your throat and looking at your friend through the mirror, you try to be as nonchalant as you can when you ask: “Has he… Did he tell you if…” 

“No, Y/N, I have no clue if San is going or not and Wooyoung is actually mad at him at the moment.” 

“Why?” 

She looks at you, sighing “He's been lacking as a friend lately.” 

“Hm.” 

“I hope you're not planning on swooning if you see him. Fuck him, Y/N.” 

“I know…” 

“And by fuck him I mean he doesn't deserve you or your forgiveness.” 

“He didn't do anything to me, Gyuri,” you remind her, shrugging “Not reciprocating my feelings is not a crime so I don't have to forgive him for anything.” 

You can practically feel her starting the San hate train engine, so you step out of the bathroom but her voice follows you. 

“And what about that time he ditched you for Minseo when you asked him to go with you to that medical appointment, huh?” 

“Cut it out, Gyuri…” 

But her head peaks around the corner, into the hall where you're rushing towards your room “Or that time when—” 

“Can't hear you!” Turning to look at her, she gives you an affectionate middle finger and heads back to the bathroom.

Closing the door, you lean into the thin wood and sigh, getting San’s face out of your mind so you can focus on getting ready and actually show up for Wooyoung and Wooyoung only. 

He just got a permanent position after completing his internship at a company that's your company's rival. He's going to crush you and steal clients from you but you are genuinely so happy for him. 

You should've guessed he enjoyed books as much as you did back in highschool. The debates he used to have with Gyuri were not all about flirting with her but also because he has a passion for books. 

And now he's going to work in the same field as you.

You're so proud of your friend. 

As you get ready, you remember the excitement cruising through your body when your boss trusted you enough to give you the first manuscript of a new client so you could edit it. You're sure Wooyoung is going to do better than you, taking into account that he actually went to college for this. 

You didn't. 

You met your boss at the part-time job you got in senior year, when you were trying to distract yourself from all the pain and the horrors of becoming a grown up. She was chatty, got a little too drunk on soju and told you she was starting her own book publishing company. 

When she returned months later after remembering that you told her you loved books and would love to work for as a publisher one day, she offered you a job in her company right after graduating highschool. 

You took it because you didn't think an opportunity like this would show up ever again. 

She was truly a blessing, the kind of person you never really believed in until she taught you all you needed to know about publishing and editing and encouraged you to take online classes during the nights so you could get, at least, a certification on what you do. 

You're proud of yourself too. The opportunity found you in a specific moment of your life where both your heart and your self esteem were destroyed and now you're not the person you used to be. 

Maybe that's why the possibility of facing San makes you so nervous. Collective memories are dangerous because the details never match the ones on the other person's head. 

You know who you were back then but… Are you the same person in San’s head? 

You don't even want to find out. 

Scanning your outfit in the mirror for the last time, you take the shoes you're wearing tonight out of your closet and walk over to the living room. 

Only to find Gyuri laying on the carpet under the coffee table, half dressed and on her phone. 

“You're going to mess up your hair.” 

“I don't care, I'm not going.” 

Sighing, you sit down on the couch and staring at the wood of the table covering her face. 

“What happened now?” 

“The bitch canceled!” 

“Wooyoung?” 

Poking her head out, she frowns at you “No, his first love.” 

“You were his first love.” 

“You know what I'm talking about, Y/N!” 

Laughing at her, you offer her your hand “Get dressed. Who cares if she's not going? He's not going to sulk because he's going to have you and his best friends there.” 

She whines like a child when you pull her up from the floor “I had a plan!” 

“Then make a new one, babe. We're going to be late.” 

She starts to whine again but then stops mid-groan to give you a once over. You shift uncomfortably on your feet, suddenly self-conscious about your appearance for the first time in years. 

“You look really hot…” she tells you and you fake gag at her words “Really pretty. Like a fairy and a smoke show at the same time.” 

You can't possibly look like that when you have such a simple outfit on, floor length high waist black pants and a flowy sleeve top that ties in the middle. It's barely formal but now you're thinking too hard about it. 

Blushing, you wave your hand to dismiss her compliment “Oh, my god. Go and change!” 

She rushes to her room on the opposite end of the hall and you finally breathe, looking down at your choice of fit and wondering if it's too much. 

Gyuri would've told you if that's the case, but either way it haunts your mind in the car on the way there, leg bouncing up and down under your best friend's judging gaze that only softens when you pout at her. 

“They are going to love you, babe. I'm so serious, they've been waiting years to meet you.” 

You nod because, yes, you're concerned that her friend group is not all as welcoming as she paints them to be. 

And you wish your doubts would go away but you're really, really not good at making friends. You're cautious, extremely closed off to new people and not as good with conversation no matter how much confidence you gained over the past years. 

When you walk to the loudest table at the laid back restaurant their friend Seonghwa made the reservation at, you think you won't be able to fit in with everyone else. You feel like an intruder, like Gyuri is supposed to enjoy this part of her life without you here. 

That's why you rejected every invitation they ever made. 

You celebrate birthdays with her, with Woo as well, but it's all very intimate and separate from their social circle, the one that includes the man you haven't fully faced in years. 

But you can't exactly back out now, not when one of them turns to you and seems to light up when they see you. 

“Oh? Is this her?” you recognize Hongjoong from pictures, he's the only one facing you when you approach the table, lowkey hiding behind Gyuri like a child. 

“Who?” 

“Huh?”

San is nowhere to be seen. Thank god. 

Slowly, everyone turns around and you see their faces light up with both delight and surprise. Your heart is pounding, you feel it in your throat, in your eyes, in the heat that colors your cheeks. 

But Gyuri just steps aside and presents you with a smile “This is her!” 

“Oh, Y/N!” Wooyoung gets up, rushing towards you and crashing into your frame with a crushing hug “I'm so glad you're here,” he murmurs into your hair and then turns to his friends, quiet them down “Everyone, this is Y/N, one of my best friends in the entire world.” 

He's such a dramatic human being.

You love him so much. 

Raising your hand, you shyly wave at them “Hi.” 

The entire table erupts with joy. Some of them greet you, some of them are saying that they are happy to be finally meeting you and Wooyoung grabs your arm and plops you down into the seat next to Gyuri, at the edge of the table. 

Laughing, you apologize for not meeting them sooner and then you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders. 

Panic raising, you quickly turn around to see who it is before releasing a shuddering, but calmer, breath. 

“She's a very busy woman, guys. She works for the competition, my competition,” everyone gasps at that but Wooyoung is smiling at you “and she's very good at what she does. Which means she's busy, get off her case,” he puts a glass and a can of beer in front of you “Drink, babe.” 

“Thanks, babe.” You whisper back and he leans in to peck your head before going away. 

Gyuri groans “Stop stealing that from us! It's our thing, Y/N, don't indulge him.” 

“It's his celebratory dinner…” you argue with a laugh that Hongjoong and Mingi follow. 

“Yeah! Can you get off my case tonight, Gyuri?” 

She huffs, wrapping her arms around you “I hate you all.” 

“No you don't!” 

The table laughs and everyone returns to their individual conversations when Woo sits down on his spot. 

There's a few seats left, one besides Mingi and one right in front of you but you don't think too much about it because soon Gyuri gets up to ask Yeosang something and Seonghwa occupies her seat right beside you. 

You think he can sense that you're more shy than you let on, because he doesn't include you in whatever he and Yunho were talking about and waits until he stops talking to him to turn to you. 

“So, you work for a publishing company?” 

The question catches you off guard and you swallow the beer quickly before nodding “Y-yeah, I… Yeah.” 

He chuckles “You're nervous.” 

“I'm just not as good at meeting people as Gyuri is. She usually does the job and I tag along.” 

“I feel like I know you already, though.” He says, leaning back on his chair. 

“Because she talks a lot about me?” he nods “Yeah, she tends to do that.” 

“Wooyoung also talks a lot about you, San too… Sometimes,” your cheeks heat up and he misinterprets what it means “All good things, I promise.” 

You doubt that. 

Your brain gives you a hundred and one possible things San could've said about you. 

For some reason, none of them are good. But you choose to believe the gorgeous, long haired guy in front of you. 

“Well that's good to hear,” you take another sip of your drink before smiling at him “I was sure Woo was trash talking about me.” 

He shakes his head with a smile “He wouldn't dare, he has Gyuri on his ass all the time and I'm sure she would kill him.” 

“I'm sure she would kill him even if he didn't do it.” 

His smile grows wider “That's true,” he says, looking over at them who are, very coincidentally, fighting about something. You let out a sigh and he laughs again before clearing his throat “So, the publishing company. What kind of books do you like to edit the most?” 

Your smile grows wider too. 

For the next hour, you talk to Seonghwa about your job and how you started in it. He asks you about your classes and the challenges that you face on a daily basis and Wooyoung overhears and ends up joining the conversation as well.

You don't even hear footsteps nearing until a voice cuts everyone off. 

“I'm sorry I'm late!” 

“Baby!” Mingi gets up from his seat, but no one else does so he's stuck between the table and his girlfriend. 

“Oh, that's Love, huh?” you ask Seonghwa, Wooyoung too entertained messing with the couple to hear you anyways. 

“Yeah… Is that how Gyuri refers to her?” He frowns.

“Mhm,” you answer, leaning into him like you're about to tell him an important secret “I'm not supposed to call her that, don't tell her.” 

Seonghwa leans in too, pretending to zip his mouth shut and you laugh. 

The girl wiggles her way into the seat reserved for her and everyone lets out a groan when they smooch each other. You can only giggle and the sound draws her attention to you “Y/N?” 

You quickly nod “Yeah, hi, nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you! Finally, I thought Wooyoung and Gyuri had an imaginary friend,” you laugh, shrugging at the joke “Love your outfit, by the way, are those— Oh, San, hi— Are those jellyfish?” 

You want to answer. You truly do, the yes right at the tip of your tongue, but words leave you when you turn your head around and find San already looking at you with wide eyes.

He looks great, he's a bit more muscular than what the pictures show and than the last time that you saw him, his arms hugging the fabric of the dress shirt he's wearing like it was tailored for him and everything. 

How dare he. 

You wonder if his heart is beating as loud as yours is right now. If he's surprised, disappointed or happy to see you at all. 

“Her favorite animal.” He answers for you “Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi…” you whisper back and it feels like you're in a trance. He doesn't look away but the table quieting down once again snaps you out of it and you turn to the girl with a wide smile that you hope conceals whatever the fuck you're feeling at the moment “I love jellyfishes. Had a phase as a child when I would exclusively talk about them, too,” you chuckle, nervously, reaching for your earrings instinctively “Gyuri gave them to me as a present last Christmas.” 

You definitely overshared just now. From the corner of your eye you catch your best friend getting ready to step in if needed. 

Love looks at you, then at San (who's just standing next to you without uttering a word) and then back at you again, smiling like she just figured something out “Well, I love them.” 

“Thanks…” 

Coughing unnecessarily loud, Wooyoung gets up from his seat “You're late.” 

It takes a second but San tears his gaze away from you to look at his best friend and you take the opportunity to chug down the rest of your beer “Sorry, something came up.” 

Seonghwa turns at that and looks at him as well “You good?” 

“I am. Did you guys already eat? I'm starving.” 

“Nope. We're about to order. Let me get you a drink, come here.” And just like that, he disappears from your view and you almost sigh in relief. 

“Are you good?” Seonghwa asks you next and you reckon he's very observant. But then again, you're not the most gracious human being when you're in San’s presence, so, you figure everyone else noticed your change of mood as well. 

“Yeah, I just… I haven't seen him in a while and I didn't think he was coming. I was surprised, that's all.” 

“I can see that,” his eyes move around your face for some reason, frowning a little bit but then he seems to let it go, getting the menu closer to you “Okay, good, um… I actually made the reservation here because they have the best samgyeopsal in town.”  

“Do they?” 

“Mhm, so…” 

He helps you pick your food and when it's time to order, he moves back to his seat. Gyuri asks you with her eyes if you're okay, you nod and grab her hand under the table with a tiny smile and then everyone is moving around to make space for San and Woo once they return. 

He doesn't sit in front of you. 

Relief floods you and you can finally feel your muscles relax as he is so far away, at the other end of the table and in the same row of seats, so you don't really see him unless you really try. 

Which you don't, so your food goes down easy and the rest of the night as well.

Until everyone but you and Seonghwa move around their seats and he ends up right in your point of view as you do your best to ignore him and focus on his friend. 

Seonghwa asks you about your hobbies, you tell him that you love to write movie essays on websites no one even cares to read and he asks you to show it to him so he can look it up when he gets home.

“And you've always done this? Since highschool?” 

You nod and he beams “I read like the first three lines and it looks really good, Y/N. Is that why you love books so much? Because you're a writer?” 

“I wouldn't consider myself a writer but… Sure, I love to write.” 

“Did you know this?” he turns to San and your smile drops a little. 

“Know what?” 

“Your friend is an excellent writer.” 

“Oh, I know. She, uh… Used to write stories on her notebook instead of paying attention in math class,” he sips on his drink and at the detail you didn't know he knew, you turn to him fully “I used to read over her shoulder sometimes.” 

“She's really good.” Seonghwa is looking at your phone, still reading “Really smart, too.” 

San’s jaw tenses a little and you can't understand why “I know.” He says again. 

His friend is none the wiser, blocking your phone and returning it to you “I like it,” he says, smiling and you blush “The essay.” He clarifies after a second, prompting a laugh out of you that he joins. 

San doesn't laugh, but you don't pay attention to him because Seonghwa is asking you something else. 

When it's time to leave the restaurant, Wooyoung suggests going back to his apartment to milk the get-together as much as you all can.

You all throw your napkins at him in feign disgust at the choice of words but you all accept his proposal either way. 

So now you're sitting on the couch, legs crossed and head on Gyuri’s shoulder while you listen to all of them talk (more like argue) about something that happened at their university last week, their voices drowning the soft music playing out of the tiny speaker resting on the counter. 

San is on the floor, to your right. It's hard to keep your eyes off him when you feel him looking at you when you close your eyes and let the noise fade into the background. It's not like you're able to add something to the conversation anyway and Gyuri seems to be drinking her sorrows (not being able to hook Woo up with the girl she told you about) away. 

Your best friend is slurring her words already, drink in hand and index finger pointing at Jongho accusatively because, apparently, the fight they're talking about was his fault. 

“You don't—” she hiccups “You don't even know why it was your fault and it pisses me off even more, you know?” 

“Okay, let me take that.” Taking the drink from her hand and before she starts complaining you stand up to make your way into the kitchen. 

The sink is full and a mess, so you pour the liquid into it and leave the glass sitting right beside it. Distracted by the dilemma of helping Woo out with the dishes or not, you don't notice someone else also entering the space.

That's why you jump a little when you turn and catch Seonghwa leaning on the wall by the entrance. It startles you enough to laugh the nerves out afterwards and he shakes his head, smiling. 

“Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. They're boring me to death with the fight story.” 

You nod, realizing that maybe that's because he doesn't attend the university anymore. He told you he graduated last year “They're too drunk to let it go.” 

“Too drunk to dance to this amazing song, too. Who's playlist is that?” he frowns and you rest your back into the sink, rolling your eyes because he's pretending he doesn't know “Oh! Right, it's mine.” 

“And they just don't know how to appreciate it, huh?” he shrugs and you click your tongue “They're such bad friends, Seonghwa, I truly don't know why you keep them around.” 

“You appreciate it,” it's your turn to frown and he leaves his spot at the wall to walk towards you “You were singing along to it,” he explains and you let out an ah, nodding as he extends his palm to you, clearly inviting you to dance. 

“Oh, I don't… I don't really know how to—” 

“I'll show you.” 

His kind eyes are asking you to trust him. You really, really shouldn't. 

No matter how hard you try to bury the hopeless romantic little girl who decided to have a crush on a guy back in ninth grade, she's still there, begging you to let loose and live a little. 

When you grab Seonghwa’s hand, you think the smile he gives you was worth listening to her. 

You can't even tell the song that's softly playing anymore, a mellow r&b melody reaches your ear but you are not listening. You're focused on him, on the way he spins you around even if it doesn't fit the bit, on the way he laughs softly against your ear when he pulls you close by your hand and then pulls away just as quickly. 

Laughing as well, the spell of this beautiful stranger (because you remind yourself you don't really know him that well) is hard to break. 

Until it does. 

Someone clearing their throat behind you stops you and Seonghwa's feet from moving any further. When the tall, older guy turns you around, you're face to face with San and his scowl. 

“Sorry to interrupt but I need to get started on the dishes. Everyone else is heading out too,” he looks behind you, at the man who's still standing close to you and grabbing your hand “In case you want to ask Mingi for a ride.” 

“They finally stopped fighting!” he fakes excitement, finally letting go of your hand and walking in front of you, blocking San with his body. You chuckle, barely clapping your hands to join the pretense as he's pulling up his phone “Can I ask for your number, Y/N?” 

Blinking a few times, you're not sure if your heart speeds up because he's asking or because you hear San sigh exasperated behind him “S-sure.” 

When you put your information on his phone, he bids you goodbye with a pat on your head and hugs San on his way out the kitchen. 

Now that you two are alone, you suddenly want to run and join Seonghwa. You were doing so, so well. 

Avoiding San like the plague it's much easier when you're safe hiding behind your two best friends. 

Ignoring his stare would be much easier if you weren't stuck into place. 

“I—” 

“You—” 

You both speak over each other and you force out an uncomfortable laugh that he doesn't return. Instead, he motions you to go first while he occupies the space in front of the sink, turning the faucet on. In doing so, he has to grab your waist and move you out of the way which makes you short circuit for a second “I was going to help you with that.” You finally stammer out. 

He lets out what you take as an annoyed chuckle. 

“You seemed busy, I don't know how you would've done it.” 

Ouch. 

Why do you allow his words to cut so deep when you stopped caring about what he does a long time ago? 

The band aid rips, the stitches come undone and all it took him were five seconds to melt your resolve away like it was never there in the first place. 

“I'll… I go get Gyuri so we can leave Woo and you to get to it, then.” 

“Bathroom.” You hear him mutter under his breath as you are taking the final step to leave. 

“Huh?” 

“She's in the bathroom, probably puking her breakfast out,” he looks up at you to give you a tiny smile “You left her alone with Jongho and Woo for five minutes so she got ahold of another drink.” 

“God damnit.” 

Rushing out, you run into everyone else at the door and Mingi has to let go of his very intoxicated girlfriend when she reaches you to give you a hug “Don't be a stranger, Y/N! It was lovely to be around you, hm?” 

The sudden physical contact almost makes you gasp but you cover it up with a shy giggle “O-oh. Yeah, um, lovely to meet you too. All of you.” 

“Sorry about that,” her boyfriend grabs her arms and breaks the hug “She's right, though. Don't be a stranger.” 

You nod once, smiling a little more sincerely now and everyone says bye to you, including Seonghwa, who grabs your hand one last time and gives it a squeeze before closing the front door of the apartment. 

You think you feel your heart skip a tiny bit under all the shit San’s words pulled up to the surface a minute ago. But there's no time to dwell in that: you hear Gyuri opening up the bathroom door before gagging and closing it again with a slam. 

Jesus Christ. 

You two are really getting old. You stopped drinking like an hour ago, when you were starting to feel tipsy after your second beer, and you know she didn't drink as much as she used to maybe four years ago, but the visage that welcomes you when you open the door and find her crouched down in front of the toilet certainly brings back memories of those times. 

“I left you alone for like… five minutes.” Sighing, you lean in to hold her flimsy ponytail and pat her back. 

“I'm good,” she gags again and then holds up her hand to stop you from saying anything else “I'm fine.” 

Smiling, you help her up and she grabs the counter as she's washing away the taste of whatever she ate earlier today and alcohol “Me when I lie…”

“Y/N!” she hits your arm but the movement somehow almost makes her trip. 

“You want to lay down?” 

“Is she okay?” Woo’s head peaks into the bathroom and when he sees his ex, he makes a face. 

“Does she look like she's okay?” you help her out of the bathroom and start heading for Wooyoung's room. 

“Wow, wow— Where do you think you're taking her?” 

“To your room, dumbass!”

“Why mine? San's is literally right there.” He whines, pointing at the door you pass by without a second thought. You don't want to know where his room is or what it looks like at all. 

“Yeah, well, did San get her this drunk?” 

“How was I supposed to know that she was at her almost black-out phase? She never drinks that much in front of me!” he complains again but you're already tugging Gyuri in, who mumbles something incoherent and then flips Wooyoung off “Na Gyuri if you puke on my bed I swear to God!” 

If you didn't know Wooyoung so much, the whining and the attitude would probably make you think he didn't care for her at all. But he's brushing her hair out of her forehead, securing the blanket around her and moving to take her socks off when you reach the door. 

“I'm guessing you're okay with her staying the night?” 

“Of course you guys can stay the night, Y/N.” He says and he stumbles a little to get to you, so you smile and shake your head, about to let him know that you're not staying anywhere near his roommate when he continues “You can come over whenever you like. You know that, right?” 

“I know, Woo.” 

“I barely even see you these days, I… Oh! I forgot!” he points to the end of the hall, towards the kitchen “You guys don't really like each other so maybe don't come over when he's here because I don't want to see you sad!” 

“Lower your voice,” you whisper to him, bringing a hand to his face and patting his cheek a few times to wake him up “Did the alcohol suddenly hit you or something?” you sigh for the umpteenth time “Anyways, you should lay down and I'll get going. I'll come pick her up tomorrow and—” 

“That's such a great idea! Oh, I'm a genius.” 

“You didn't come up with it, Wooyoung.”

“San!” he calls all of the sudden and you wish he was sober enough to read the panic on your features. He seems much, much sober when his best friend starts walking down the hall and stops right beside you “Take Y/N home, please, she's going to give you a bag that you must protect with your life.” 

Said best friend looks at you, his eyebrow arched in a silent question “Gyuri’s stuff.” 

“Ah.”

“Go, go. It's getting late, I'll just… I'll cuddle with my ex until you get home.” 

And she has the nerve to say he doesn't want her back. 

When the door to Wooyoung's room closes and you're left with San on the poorly lit hallway, you make a mental note to never step foot on this place or allow your friends to drink ever again. 

You don't even look at the guy before practically running down the hallway and reaching for your bag. You make sure your phone is secured in your pocket as you slip your shoes on and soon you're grabbing the front door knob and twisting it. 

Keys jingle next to you but, again, you don't spare San a glance. 

“So—” 

“I'll get out of your hair, you don't have to… walk me home or whatever he said.” 

“Y/N, it's late.” 

Turning to him, your smile is as fake as the ones you've been giving him the past couple of years “And I'm a grown up, San, I can walk myself home.” 

“What about Gyuri’s stuff?” 

“She can wear Wooyoung's clothes, it's not like they never shared before. Anyway… Thank you for having me, it was nice to see you. Goodnight.” Your response comes out fast and it sounds as planned out as it actually is, kinda robotic and devoid of actual emotion. 

San can't see through you the way you see through him. It's okay, he won't mind it. 

He probably won't mind that you close his own door on his face either. 

If that door is what you hear when you're making your way down the stairs in order to make a fast escape, you choose to ignore it. 

You have to stop mid-way to compose yourself. You don't know why you feel like crying or why your heart is beating so fast. 

You knew going in that there was a possibility of seeing him tonight. You know how San affects you, so effortless and seemingly like no time has passed at all in between senior year and present day. 

You know all of this already, it's an endless loop that will keep repeating until you either move away or decide to stop agreeing to Wooyoung's plans all together. 

So why is your chest heaving with emotion? Why is nostalgia playing mind tricks with you? Why do you want to turn back and hug him and beg him to turn back time so you can do it all differently now that you know how to look like and what to say to make him love you back? 

Ah, you're definitely not sleeping tonight. So you start distracting yourself while walking down the stairs again. You remind yourself to tell a much sober Wooyoung how proud you are of him. You think about Seonghwa, about his kind eyes and the way he grabbed your hand to dance with him just half an hour ago. You wonder how long it will take you to get home if you jog all the way there. You—

Why the fuck is San outside when you get there? 

In a comedic way, you can see your attempt to distract your mind off of him slipping through your fingers and evaporating in the warm summer night breeze. 

In a realistic way, you're fucking pissed at him for taking the opportunity of a good night sleep away from you. 

You pass him and start jogging like you planned a minute ago. Footsteps follow you until his arm brushes yours and you take a step to the side to stop it from happening again. 

“Go home, Choi San.” 

“Stop fighting it, Y/N. I'm walking you home.” 

“It's a twenty minute walk—” 

“Drop it.” 

You do. And for the first ten minutes, no one utters a word even if the tension feels electric and the street is so quiet so you can hear when his breath accelerates when he jogs to catch up to you whenever you try to leave him behind. 

Isn't that ironic. He was the one who left you behind all those years ago. 

“I didn't know that you danced.” 

He breaks the uncomfortable but safe silence to say that? 

“Well, you saw me dance so I clearly dance when I want to.” 

“You never danced with me.” 

“You never asked me to.” 

He laughs “I'm pretty sure I did on several occasions, Y/N.” 

“Well, you're wrong,” you're getting annoyed. How dare he think he remembers better than you? “It doesn't matter anyway, what's past is past and—” 

“You also gave Hwa your number,” he interrupts, his long legs taking two strides to get in front of you, still walking, facing your direction with his hands on his pockets. 

It's dangerous and stupid, even if the streets are practically empty and the sidewalk barely has any bumps. 

You hope he falls on his pretty face.

“I did.* 

“I don't have your number.” 

“Well, I changed it and you never asked for it, so…” 

“You could've called me or texted me to let me know you did it.” 

He's getting on your nerves.

“San,” you start, taking in a deep breath you hope calms you down “We don't even text anymore, why would you want my number?” 

“Do you like him?” 

“Seonghwa?” you ask, frowning and he nods “Like… As a person?” 

“As a potential love interest.” He clarifies matter-of-factly and you roll your eyes. 

“I met him today, San. Why do you want my number?” 

“Because we're friends?” he offers after a second, shifting so he's walking by your side again. 

“Are we?” you ask, laughing bitterly at that “Because we haven't spoken a word to each other in years.” 

“That's not true.” 

“It is, San.” 

“You… You don't speak to me anymore, so…” 

“Well your girlfriend at the time told me she didn't feel comfortable with me speaking to you anymore,” you sigh “so I didn't and you didn't try to talk to me either.” 

“Well, I want to talk to you now.” 

“And is your new girlfriend aware of that? Is she comfortable with that? Because I don't want anyone telling me what to do anymore and—” 

“Why wouldn't she be comfortable? We're friends, Y/N.” 

“Are we?” you insist, petty, bitter and overall very, very hurt. 

He looks offended at that “I assumed we were?” 

He's getting on your fucking nerves. 

“We stopped being friends the second Minseo asked me to stay away from you because she didn't like me, San.” 

“She’s not in my life anymore—” 

The words are coming out of your mouth without even thinking it through. His demeanor, the way he's somehow reproaching you for whatever he saw between you and his friend, the way he pretends nothing happened between you and him, thinking that you two are still friends. 

“We stopped being friends when you pulled away from me, saw me do the same and did nothing to stop it from happening, San.” 

He stops in his tracks at that. You don't, pushing forward and quickening your step even if your calves burn. 

“Either way,” you speak up “Make sure you tell your girlfriend about wanting my number and then you can ask Seonghwa for it if you want—” 

“She's not my girlfriend anymore!” 

Now that stops you, just a few buildings down from yours, you turn around just to find San closer that you thought he'll be.

“O-oh. I… I didn't know that. I'm sorry.” 

“You didn't do anything to be sorry for.” 

“Still, it must suck so I'm sorry you're going through that.” 

“We didn't want the same things and so we ended it. It is what it is.” 

You nod. 

He walks the few steps separating you and you have to raise your chin a little to look him in the eye for the first time since you left his apartment “I wanted to tell you.” 

“That you broke up with your girlfriend?” 

“Yeah, I don't know why. It happened when I broke up with Minseo too, I just… You're the first person that I thought of calling when it happened. I texted you, too, but the messages didn't go through.” 

You hum at that. 

Why would he even say that? 

You resume your step, not really knowing what to say until you reach the stairs that lead to your building’s entrance. 

“And you didn't ask Woo for my number?” 

He follows you up. 

“I don't think he would've given it to me if I asked.” 

That sounds like an excuse, so you don't let it slide as you enter the code to your building and let yourself inside, San holding the door so he can get in as well “Why would he do that?” 

“Because he…” San sighs, pressing the elevator button “Nevermind. He just wouldn't.”

Frowning, you turn to him “No, now you have to tell me.” 

“It doesn't matter, really—” 

“Tell me, San.” 

He stares for a second and then looks away, like a child, vulnerable and you can't help but soften at that “He didn't like the way I treated you.” 

Eating your words from before, you shake your head “You didn't treat me like anything.” 

The elevator dings and you get inside. 

San follows you. 

“Exactly,” he says, resting his shoulder on the metal “Like you said I just did nothing and—” 

“Well, sometimes that's just what happens,” you want to end this. You want to pack Gyuri’s bag, give it to him and never see him again. 

This conversation hurts, it reopens barely closed wounds and it creates new ones you don't really need when it comes to whatever happened between you two. 

There's only so much a person can handle and it really doesn't help that you're a fool for San. He takes advantage of it, of the fact you can't really push him away at this point and the fact that he wants to have this conversation now instead of four and half years ago? 

Mean. 

He's mean. He's evil. He's… He's staring at you with a spark in his eyes that you recognize too well. 

Hope. 

When you get to your floor, you try to wipe the image away while busying yourself with your keys. Your hands tremble a little but you're able to open the door of your apartment and get in without inviting him. 

He gets in anyway. You take off your shoes as he closes the front door. 

He stays silent as he follows you around the apartment and you don't worry about turning the lights on. You get into Gyuri’s room and start picking out a comfy hangover outfit for your friend. Some clean underwear, sweatpants, two shirts and socks. 

When you drop to the floor, in front of the closet, to look for a bag to stash all of it in, San silently clutches beside you. 

“It shouldn't have happened to us. Never us.” 

You can't take it anymore. 

“San, what is this? What are you doing? I mean, why are we—” 

“I know.” 

“It's been years…”  

“I miss you.” 

He's so mean. But the softness in his tone resembles the one he used all the way back in highschool, when he told you that not being friends with you didn't feel right and you want to cave in right there and then. 

Your heart screams at you to do it, your reason warns you that you both have been through this before and it never ends right. 

You simply can't stay friends with Choi San. 

Your love for him must run too deep, your resentment claws at it and tries to hurt it but it's an immovable force that won't budge even if you try to bury it under the years that have passed, the things he has done. 

Tears gather in your eyes and you try to blink them away as you stare at your best friend's clothes on your lap and try to come up with something to close this path up again, reconstruct the picket fence you built around it the second he broke your heart for the first time. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back, letting the walls fall a little “I miss you too but I don't think I miss whatever version of you you are right now, San.” 

“W-what?”

His shaky voice makes the walls crumble and crash. 

Turning to him, your hand shakes as you place it on top of his “And you don't miss the version of me I am right now. You miss what I was back then, the comfort and the shoulder to cry on I offered you when Arin and you broke up. You miss my availability and the way I didn't press my feelings on you because it didn't matter if I liked you or not, you were my friend first and the guy that I had a crush second but—” you choke up, tears falling down your cheeks even if you don't want them to “I can't do it anymore. I'm not that girl anymore and I won't be there for you now that you and Kyungmi broke up because I can't handle it. I can't, I'm sorry.” 

He doesn't deny any of it.

He stares at you, tears wetting his cheeks as well and it hurts even more this way. You wish you had the strength to hold it together, to treat him like you did on the street a few minutes ago, but you can't. 

There's no way you could ever hate him like you want to. 

“You know…” he starts in a whisper, letting out a humorless chuckle “That's what I used to tell myself too.” 

“Hm?” 

“That you were my friend first and the girl that I had a crush on second.” 

How dare he mutter the words you always wanted to hear, the ones you picture being said in a different setting, the ones that haunted your every waking thought that period of time you doubted your friends, your mom, yourself for even believing Choi San could ever have a crush on you. 

He doesn't get to say them. You want to tell him but the words die on your throat and form a lump that you can't swallow down. 

You don't get to say that. You don't get to say that. 

Your hand drops from his and you look away again only to grab the first bag you find on the closet floor and shove Gyuri’s stuff in it. 

If the lack of response it's what prompts the hurt in his voice the next time he speaks, you don't want to think about it. 

“I wish I didn't. Now it's too late to do something about it, huh?” 

This time the rage comes back with a mask on. Feing settlement for all the what if’s covers you like a blanket on a really hot summer night: unwanted, unnecessary. 

But you can't sleep without it, so you do nothing to push it away. 

“I guess it is.” 

You get up from the floor, leaving the room and wiping your face with bitterness coating your movements as you wait by the door for him to get out. 

When he does and he steps in front of you, you extend the bag and he takes it without missing a beat. 

Voice robotic and words premeditated, you open the front door for him “Thanks for walking me home and taking this back.” 

He leans a little into your space and you don't move away. But just as he did in highschool, he takes in your hitched breath and does nothing more.

“Thanks for letting me talk to you.” 

He didn't give you much of a choice there but it's okay. This is closure, this is the end of your story with Choi San and you convince yourself you're glad that it is. 

“Sure,” you whisper back and he steps outside, turning around to watch you slowly close the door “goodnight, San.” 

He doesn't say it back. 

When the darkness of your apartment engulfs you, that's when you let yourself breakdown. Covering your mouth with your palm, you descend until your knees are against the wood on the floor and closing your eyes you make it a point to let it all out. 

You'll let it all out, drink some water, text Wooyoung and Gyuri to let them know you're safe and go to bed. 

And tomorrow you'll begin your day with the freedom of finally knowing what would've happened if you or San ever took the next step. 

This is fine. This is moving on. This is— 

The doorbell rings. 

Opening the door again, you crease your eyebrows in a silent question that San doesn't care to answer, so you look around the floor in case he forgot something you're missing. You wipe your cheeks and under your eyes as you turn to him again “Did you—” 

Time slows down when he makes it past the threshold and you can't move an inch, gaping at who you once thought was the love of your life “What are you doing, San?” 

“Something about it.” 

“What?” 

“Forgive me,” he asks, breathless and in a murmur, fueling your confusion. And then he's closing the distance, dropping Gyuri’s bag and cupping your face so gently that it hurts “but I'm doing something about it.” 

You stopped dreaming about the possibility of San kissing you that one time you two were on your bed and, another time, you told yourself that, if it ever happened, you wouldn't kiss him back. 

It's too late to kiss him back. 

But sparks fly when he crushes you against the wall and takes in a breath before slothing his mouth against yours like he's been waiting to do this every single day for the past nine years you've known each other. 

There's nothing you can do to conceal the way yearning takes over you, pours out of you, making you breathe into his open mouth and kiss him back like you always wanted to. 

You already know it is a mistake by the time you grab his shirt to keep him in place but does it really matter when this is all you ever wanted? 

Feeling warmth leave your face, you notice the way he desperately crowds your space as his chest bumps into yours, leg claiming its place in between yours, the palm that leaves you pressing against the wall, next to your head. 

The kiss is filled with emotion, with longing and desire and it steals the air out of your lungs tragically and beautifully at the same time. Before, you used to dream about his lips making everything feel right, making you fit in in a world you didn't feel like you belonged to. 

But this kiss drops you into uncharted territory, drags you into the depths of something that should be buried by now, after all this time. It brings the flame back to life and it's dangerous. 

The fact that it feels this way, both marvelous and catastrophic at the same time, makes you so sad. 

Sorrow descends down your face until your mouth is picking it up and your tongue is mixing it with whatever emotion is cruising through San right now. 

You have to know. 

He spent your entire youth and early adulthood keeping it to himself, knowing when to show his true colors and when to hide them, choosing who to do it with and you realize the San that lives in your head is nothing but a figment of what you wanted him to be. 

Because him holding to your waist like it's his only lifeline doesn't fit the San you remember, him telling you he liked you back then doesn't fit the guy who was just your best friend. 

You need to know. 

“San,” brokenly, you speak into his mouth and he pulls away just enough to see your face. Your eyes remain closed, your chest heaving and your lips trembling “Why are you doing this?” 

“Because I want you, Y/N.” 

You push him away, weakly, almost like you don't really mean it because deep down you don't but he steps away like you're asking to. 

Because, of course, your mind scraps the bottom of your resentment to give his words a completely new meaning. 

“You can find another girl to fuck and be your rebound, San,” more tears spill down and you wipe them away in anger but more threat to fall down so you cover your face with your hands and groan, desperate “I can't do this, especially not when I know that you know how bad I wanted you. Y-you know what you do to me San so stop—”

“I want you in my life. I don't— What? I don't want you like a rebound, I… Can we sit down and turn on a light so I can look at you when I say this?” 

His words should be reassuring but they're not, the way you tend to feel unlovable around him coming up to the surface, preventing you from thinking clearly. 

You can also feel his lips on yours still. It's dizzying but you manage to push yourself off the wall and pad around until you hit the switch of the warm light lamp near the couch and the apartment comes to life just like that. 

He takes in the space he's never seen before, walking slowly towards the living room and looking over the bookshelf that screams your name all over it. He smiles a bit as he looks over the book titles and you look away before your heart starts acting up again. 

You can't stay mad at him for long if he's looking through something so personal to you and smiling that fondly at it. It feels even more intimate than the kiss you two just shared. 

Wiping your cheeks once more, you are sure you look a mess but he doesn't seem to mind it once he comes into your point of view, sitting down on the couch, in front of your standing form. He grabs you by your hands until you're sitting next to him, close to him, cologne intoxicating your senses. 

“I told you I liked you when we were in highschool, right?” 

You nod. 

“You seemed surprised but it was dark so I'm not really sure. I thought you knew, everyone knew.” 

Oh, he's a comedian. 

“How would I have known, San? I… Yeri told me you liked me one time, in senior year, but I denied it. Then, my mom told me you seemed to want me in a non-platonic way and I dismissed her as well,” you take in a deep, shaky breath “For me, the thought of you liking me just didn't make sense. You loved Arin and she's… She doesn't look or act like I did back then at all, so how would I have known?” 

You didn't need clues and puzzles and what if’s, you needed words and actions that weren't confusing. You needed him to tell you back then, because telling you right now and kissing you senseless after he broke up with a girl he supposedly was very in love with means nothing but pain. 

“I didn't realize you liked me too,” you make a face, about to tell him off, but he interrupts “I didn't! I thought you liked Yeri and I thought you saw me as the annoying guy who wouldn't leave you alone. I only just realized it a couple years ago, because Woo told me.” 

You raise your eyebrows and mutter under your breath “I'm murdering him tomorrow.” 

The corner of his lips twitch before he shakes his head in dismissal of what you said “I liked you. I really, really liked you and never told a soul because… Well, it's scary when you fall in love, right?” 

“San, you had no problem telling Arin, Minseo or Kyungmi that you liked them.” 

He looks down to the floor, lost in thought and you want to open your mouth to take what you just said into a new direction, but you don't “Maybe that's because I didn't love them the way I love you.” 

Oh. 

Love you? As in… He loves you right now too? 

No way. 

“You didn't love me, San. You don't love me right now either, you… Maybe we both were in love with the idea of love? Maybe that's what happened and—” 

“Quit telling me what I'm feeling, Y/N. You always do that, you always assume you know what I'm feeling but you don't!” 

Raising your voice a little more, you try to get your point across in the worst way possible: by being stubborn “You don't know me! How can you possibly—” 

“I knew you back then, Y/N! And I loved you back then, too!” He looks like wants to say something more but he doesn't, instead, he takes a calming breath and then leans into your space for the third time tonight “And I might not know you now but I want to. That's what I meant when I said that I want you. I want you in my life, I want to know the person you became when we stopped talking, I want to talk to you every single day and I want to hold you and kiss you and be by your side however you want me to, I just… I can't lose you again.” 

His confession renders you speechless and you notice his chest is heaving, going up and down in sync with yours. 

But the way he pulled away from you senior year still hurts, it paints a picture of what's going to happen if you accept this. 

You can't believe his words. 

He must feel lonely and confused, like he did when Arin broke up with him. He must be looking for a shelter you can't provide. 

“And when you find another girl that's more to your liking? What then, San?” 

“There's no one that I love more than you, Y/N and I'm sorry I was shit at proving it back then and I'm sorry that it took so many years for me to come to my senses.” 

He's tearing up and your heart pangs absurdly loud at that. 

“I saw you with Seonghwa earlier today, laughing and dancing and flirting and I thought: Oh, maybe if I didn't waste that much time pretending I'm someone I'm not, that would be me.” 

You stare for a second, you watch a single tear drop down his cheek and then look away. 

“Is that what you were doing? Is that why you pulled away?” 

“Maybe?” he offers and you turn to him again. Is not enough and maybe he can see it in your expression, because he goes on “I mean, I… I thought I wanted Arin. I thought I wanted Minseo. I had people in my life who were really happy to see me with them and I just…” 

“Wanted to keep them happy,” you nod, understanding. He doesn't have to say his mothers name for you to know he's referring to her and maybe his other highschool friends outside of Wooyoung “Were you pretending with me as well?” 

“No,” he answers right away “You and Woo were the only ones who saw me for who I really was back then.” 

“And why do you think you love me now, San?” you ask, deflating against the couch and ignoring the way your heart soars at his quick response.

“Because I never stopped,” he stammers out and then clears his throat “Because I looked for you in Minseo and Kyungmi and I wondered for years why they couldn't make me feel the same way. And I told myself I didn't need to feel the same way and that I deserved to wonder for the rest of my days but seeing you tonight? I can't.” 

Straightening your spine, the pained look you sent in his direction is not intentional but it prompts him to lean closer and closer until he's cupping your cheek again. 

“I can't keep wondering.” His voice is a sweet whisper, a siren song that draws you in until your forehead is resting against his. 

All these years, you were so self-focused on changing to a better version of who he used to know, learning from your mistakes and closing off to the opportunity of letting him prove himself a better man, you forgot that time passed for him too. He’s telling you he changed, too. 

Imagination is a safe space. Is where you hide, where desire can take its wings and fly high without hurting you too much. Make belief has rescued you before but this? The way his nose nuzzles softly into yours and your breaths tangle? This is very real. And reality is prone to hurt you. 

But the want you feel is undeniable. The way your entire being wants to cave in and give him an opportunity is suffocating, it makes you choke out a sob that he follows with one of his own. 

You kiss him, softly at the beginning, but his hands on you tighten and you let yourself get lost in the way they go down your neck and your arms, caressing you softly until they reach your waist and pull you into his lap. 

Pulling away, you grab his chin with two fingers and force his teary eyes to snap open, searching for an answer on yours.

“If you hurt me,” you start, breathless “If you're mocking me, if you're using me to get over Kyungmi, if you are pulling me back in to break my heart again, Choi San, I swear to God I will kill you.” 

“I won't do that to you ever again, Y/N,” he returns softly “I love you, I'm sorry if I ever hurt you but I love you.” 

Others would argue that it is pathetic how quickly you forgive him. But then again, you could never be mad at San. 

You were only mad at yourself for how everything turned out. 

“I love you too, Sannie.” 

Saying something never felt so freeing before. 

“Oh, Y/N…” you can see the way relief washes his worries away “Y/N…” he starts to say but then leans in to kiss you again and never finishes his words. 

You don't mind it. 

Pouring out all the pent up affection you pretended to bury for years, you explore his mouth and carve into your memory the way he feels. The way he sighs into it when your tongue brushes his, the way he pulls you in closer when your fingers reach the nape of his neck and pull on his hair there, hands splayed on your back so he can keep you in place as he leans down and places you against the worn out couch. 

He maps you out, hands going down your waist in a familiar feeling that brings back that memory of you two laying down on your bed. Only this time, he's actually touching you with a purpose. This time, you two have made up your minds and your limbs are tangled in a way you can feel all of him pressing up against you. 

It starts to get stuffy, the space on the couch not nearly enough to have him the way you want to. Soon, you're both standing up, mouths still moving against each other and hands roaming everywhere until you're undoing the buttons on his shirt. 

He pulls away to fully take it off, eyes never leaving yours, dropping the shirt to the ground, next to the couch and then he's on you again, making your back crash into the wall as he works the knots keeping your blouse together. 

He walks you through the hall, stopping only to take your top off and then he's walking you to a room that has a familiar scent that doesn't belong to you.

“Wrong room, wrong room,” you say into his lips and he laughs, looking to your surroundings “Mine’s over there.” you point to the other end of the hall, taking his hand and pulling him towards it. 

You don't make it far before he's yanking you towards him again. He looks down, taking your body in and you do the same, his firm and defined stomach a sight you never thought you would be able to see. 

“You're so beautiful,” he whispers, backing you against the wall again and kissing your cheek “So, so beautiful.” 

Turning your head to chase his mouth, he lets out a heavy sigh when his lips trail a path to your neck and murmurs against the skin there “I never told you how beautiful I found you before but you're so perfect, baby.” 

“I always thought I wasn't your type, San,” you let out a noise when he grabs your hips and pulls you forward, crashing his into yours “Fuck.” 

“And I always thought you were too much for me, too smart,” he kisses his way back up, focusing on your jaw and chin until he's kissing your cheek again “too pretty,” he moves to your ear, pecking right under it and you hold him closer “too good for me.” 

It doesn't really matter that this is all new to you, the way he's speaking, the tenor of his voice, the things he's saying… It sparks something familiar in you. You're pulling his hair back to make him look at you, a moan slipping out of his lips at that. 

You want to hear it again. 

He's smiling at your reaction, hand tightening on his locks.

However, that smile drops when he seems to recognize the gleam in your eyes. 

You gather up courage, feeling empowered by the way his hooded eyes darken but wait patiently for you to speak your mind. 

“Maybe I'm too good for you now, too,” you lean in, your lips softly tracing his “Maybe you should prove to me that you deserve me, San.” 

It's a dare. One that he seems to like a lot because his eyes sparkle with the same fire they used to back in the day. 

“Oh, I'll prove it to you, alright.” He whispers, panting when you let go of his hair and he leans into you to kiss your lips briefly before pulling away again.

His hand tilts your head back and you rest it against the cold wall, his fingers touch your bottom lip before going down and down and down until they rest against the seam of your pants, unbuttoning them in one swift movement. 

Going back up, his nails softly dig into your skin and you preen, taking the soft sting of his ministrations like you two have done this a million times before.  

His mouth is on yours again, his hands are pulling you off the wall and into your room until you two land on your mattress, a moan spilling out of your lips when he sloths his knee in between your legs and pulls them apart with expertise. 

You don't have the mind to break down what that means. 

Opening your eyes when he kisses down your neck again, you notice your room is barely lit by the street lights outside, curtains pulled open and windows closed but, this way, you can see the way San kisses between your breasts and your belly, catching his eyes when he looks up to measure your reaction. 

You sigh, already feeling some sort of build up going on down there and he hasn't even touched you properly yet. 

You don't even want to think about how wet you actually are. 

He leans back, open palms going down your legs slowly until they reach your feet. It tickles and you can't help but let out a giggle that he joins short after, his gaze never losing the edge because of it, though. 

“San…” 

He guides your hips up so he can take off your pants and you sigh when his hands return, raising your leg up “I missed your laugh,” he says low, attaching his lips to your calf “I miss being the one making you laugh too.” 

You feel like crying again but then he's letting your leg down and grabbing the other one to give it the same treatment, so your tears can wait. 

This time, he moves upwards till his mouth nears your clothed center and your breath hitches. 

Yeah, you can definitely cry later.

“You want me to prove to you how much I want you, Y/N?” he murmurs, his lips ghosting your mound now “How much I love you?” 

“San, p-please…” 

“Fuck, look at you.” He sounds like he's too lost in the heat of the moment and you're kind of grateful, because the moan you let out when his fingers hook on your underwear and pull them to the side to expose your pussy to his hungry eyes is loud. 

When he kisses you right where you need him, you let out another moan. And when he parts your folds to lick a stripe up to your clit, you curse him under your breath until he's laughing against you softly, the vibrations accumulating heat on your belly. 

He doesn't tease you much longer and you look down at him just to catch the moment his self control slips, eating you out like a man starved while his hand stays on your hip to hold you down and keep you underwear from interrupting his feast. 

“This is like,” he dives in again for a few seconds and you grab the sheets beneath you “All my fantasies coming to life but better.” 

He's so chatty during this and the only thing you can do is stammer a yeah? and pray for it to reach his ears.

“Mhm,” He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue and your legs shake “It tastes even better than what I dreamed, too.” 

The heat of his mouth leaves you, lips spreading your wetness through your stomach until he fully reaches your face, your eyes closed and lips already waiting for him. 

Tongue caressing yours, your hands trail down his torso and focus on getting his pants off. You're shaking with excitement so it proves to be more difficult than you imagined at first but he helps you in unbuckling his belt. 

Once the piece of clothing is on the floor (or the bed, you're not really paying attention to where it lands), you don't waste time in feeling him up through his boxers. 

The hiss you get in return makes you smile. 

Bringing your lips to his neck, you suckle on this pulse point and gain another pleased noise before grazing your teeth against skin and moving to his collarbone next.

In a way, you get what he means. If he truly was pining over you the way you were pining over him, the thought of exploring his tan skin and making him moan feels like a dream. 

So you kiss him again in order to make it all last longer. 

The minutes pass between the both of you, softly making out and figuring out what gets both of you going, discarding your underwear in the process. 

You realize your moans make San’s cock twitch against your leg and he seems to notice the way your hips buck up everytime his hands handle you more roughly. 

After a few minutes of just this, you feel his hand making its way down again and the pads of his fingers circle your clit until you're grasping the sheets again. He gathers your arousal and then enters one finger slowly and when it slides in and out with ease, he enters the next one. 

There's really not much prepping he needs to do, already soft and compliant under him, you relax into his comfortable touch before you're aching for something else. And your mouth is preoccupied with his, so you do something else to catch his attention. 

Hands caressing his back, you let them drop to his ass with a soft smack that wins you a soft huff on amusement and then a whine when you move his hips towards yours. 

“Condom?” 

You shake your head “I'm clean and I have an implant.” 

“Oh?” he smirks, about to tease you but you squeeze his butt again and he moans “Fuck. I'm clean too.” 

“Good,” you whisper against his cheek, laughing as he arranges his position. 

And he might've been touching you all this time, kissing you until your mind emptied and your lips are all swollen up, but the look on his eyes when he slowly enters you is what might drive you over the edge. 

Grabbing your hands, he pins them on the side of your head as he moves, dropping his head down with a groan as you take him in, nose touching yours and moth whispering sweet things you can't quite pick up. 

He feels so good. 

This all feels way too good to be real. 

In the cloud you're at, you allow yourself to dream a little more before the reality of what your confessions mean dawns on you. 

For now, you allow San to make love to you. Sweetly, slowly and with a passion you never were lucky enough to encounter before. 

Maybe it's because your previous lovers didn't have your heart the way San does. 

He rams his hips into yours hard, closing his eyes and resting his warm cheek against yours, kissing your face inch by inch when you accompany his movements with your own. 

When his pace picks up, you hug him close and secure your legs around his hips as you moan. 

“Y-yes, fuck.” 

“Like that?” he repeats the movement from before, pulling out and then in with such force it rocks the entire bed. 

“Just like that, baby, fuck.” 

“God, you sound so good,” you smile a little, forehead resting on his shoulder before your head falls down against your pillow again “I love you,” he repeats against your lips, letting your hands go to cup your face with both of his again “I love you so much.” 

Teetering over the edge, you feel happy tears stinging in your eyes. Though closed, you can feel San’s stare on you, on your face, on the way you react to his sweet words and relentless pace. 

You say it back in a whisper and he repeats it again and again and again until you're both coming and tears are spilling down your cheeks. 

He kisses them away. 

You wipe his with trembling fingers as you come down, having trouble breathing from everything that just happened. 

You don't feel suffocated anymore, you feel like you've been freed. Like this was supposed to happen at some point and you two finally got around to it. 

“I love you,” he says once more before slipping out of you with a parting kiss. 

Holy shit. 

When San gets up from the bed and you point him to the bathroom, down the hallway, you're left with a sticky mess in between your legs and a lot to think about but you settle on four things. 

San just made love to you. There's no way that was just sex. 

There's also no way you're coming back from this. 

Gyuri is probably going to kill you. 

And that, obviously, your feelings for San never left. You feel the familiar warmth of them spreading through your post-orgasmic state. They're there, mocking you, asking you who the fuck you thought you were for pushing them away. 

He returns, toilet paper in his hands before leaning in and cleaning you up, lips immediately finding home on your skin as he does. 

You both giggle at that.

You probably need to shower but you've been crying and there's no way you're leaving this bed tonight. He throws the paper away on your bedroom’s trashcan and then crashes into the bed next to you, still naked, still looking at you with so much love you're wondering what stopped you from seeing it was there before. 

Taking his hand, you bring it to his lip and give his knuckles a peck “That was really good.” 

“It was.” 

“I can't believe we actually just did that…” 

He smiles and what he says next shocks you even more than his confession “I want to take you out.” 

“San… You just came inside me not even ten minutes ago.” 

“And?” you laugh and he shakes his head, leaning into your space again “I spent many years doing everything wrong, let me do it the right way.” 

“Making love to me one time and then taking me out on a date is not the right way, sir.” 

He nuzzles your cheek with his nose and you let out a pleased sigh “Who said it was just one time, huh?” Attacking your neck with his lips again, you push him away with a laugh. 

“Oh, come on!” 

He laughs as well “Give me ten minutes and I'll make it two!” 

San makes love to you two more times. And by four in the morning, you're snuggled into his arms and sleeping soundly. 

When you wake up and find the space next to you empty, you think it was all a dream. Your naked form begs to differ and you quickly put the t-shirt you usually wear to bed on and your panties underneath it to go out and face the feelings of your actions fighting with the blender in the kitchen. 

“How do you two live with this stupid thing?” 

“We don't,” you answer, startling him “We don't use it. What are you trying to make?” 

San’s shirtless, wearing his pants and his hair messy. Looking back at the living room clock, you see it's just five past ten. 

Smiling as he approaches you, you forget you must look a mess too when he pecks your lips and barely pulls away “Good morning, beautiful.” 

You pretend to cringe at that, pulling away “Oh, God. Morning, dumbass.” 

“You like it, you're blushing,” he points out and the pink on your cheek deepens as he's going back to the blender “Does anything work here?” 

“The microwave,” you shrug “And the stove. Were you trying to make yourself a…” you look over the ingredients he has pulled out of your fridge “Green juice?” 

“I was trying to make both of us a green juice,” he corrects and your heart skips at the immediate domestic attitude he has with you “But now I can tell neither of you drink anything like it, hm? I'm buying you a blender.” 

“Please don't.” 

“Why?” 

“Why do you think that one is broken?” 

He hums, huffing out a laugh seconds later and you walk over to him, unsure on how to approach him even though what you did yesterday night and earlier this morning didn't allow your shyness to step in. 

Now you're feeling it. 

He can tell, because he stops fighting with the steel appliances to grab your waist and pull you close “I wanted to make you breakfast.” 

“We can make breakfast together and I can order your green juice,” you compromise and he nods, but he doesn't let you go “And later we can go out on that date you promised me yesterday and we can go over what we're going to tell the two idiots.” 

His smile drops. 

“Oh, fuck.” 

Grimacing, you nod “It was the second thing I thought about after waking up.” 

“What was the first?” 

“Oh, I was trying to remember if you ever asked me to dance before,” he nods with a smile “Guess what? You didn't.” 

He fake gasps at that “I did!” 

“No, you didn't!” 

“Babe, yes I did,” he insists and you laugh, which prompts him to wrap his hands around you tighter when you try to get away from him “It was when—” 

“Oh. My. God. I'm going to be sick again.” 

Now when the fuck did Gyuri come back. 

And why is Wooyoung with her too, jaw slack as he watches both of you pull away from each other and create a safe distance that doesn't help whatever your best friends just saw. 

“It worked?” he asks and you can barely hear him until he hollers like a crazy person “Oh, it worked! I am a genius!” 

“Wooyoung, hold me! I'm going to kill them!” Gyuri looks like she's about to launch towards you at any second now, so you close your eyes and accept your fate. But nothing happens “Wait— What worked?” 

When you open them again, San is hiding behind you and Gyuri’s back is to both of you as she looks at Wooyoung with, what you assume, murderous intentions. 

“Gyuri, let's talk about this,” the black haired guy puts his hands up “You were too drunk to discuss it so I made the choice of— Gyuri, no!” 

You burst into laughter when she starts chasing him around the apartment and San giggles as well, only more nervous than delighted by their little cat and mouse game. 

He's probably sensing he's next on her hit list. 

As if you would let anything happen to him in the first place. 

“Stop, stop! I'm sorry, please leave me alone!” you hear Wooyoung’s voice echoing through your hall and in a second he's entering the kitchen, rounding you and San “I'm so happy for you guys, really, this was meant to happ— Stop!” He cries when Gyur catches onto him and yanks his hair to stop him from running.  

“Y/N,” she starts, chest heaving and you take a step back, crashing into San’s chest. He holds onto you only to push you a little and protect himself from the fury of your best friend “When I told you fuck him I didn't meant this!” 

“I know.” 

Wooyoung whines but he can't get away from her grasp so he just accepts it and pouts like a child. 

“A-and you!” She points towards the guy resting his chin on your shoulder “How dare you! If this is something casual for you then—” 

“I love her.” He defends himself quickly and your heart all but stops at that. 

“You do?” Wooyoung coos, amazed at his best friend’s confession. 

Gyuri's anger falters at that. 

“You… You do?” 

“And I love him,” you let out in a shy whisper, smiling a bit “But you already knew that.” 

“Of course I already knew that, bitch, I am your other half,” she makes a point to stare at San as she says it, letting Wooyoung go and he massages the part of his scalp that was targeted by his ex “Don't forget that.” 

“Y-yes ma'am.” 

You laugh again and Woo joins the embrace, eyeing you both expectantly and rolling his eyes when neither of you say anything to him “Well, you are so welcome guys. What are we having for breakfast?” 

You and San don't get to go out on that date. 

But when you do, he asks you to be his girlfriend the next day. 

And when you say yes he almost breaks down in excited tears.

Eventually, even Gyuri comes around and threatens him into treating you right, which means he earned her seal of approval. 

You delete the document on your laptop when you find it a month into being his girlfriend and, instead, start drafting your new beginning on it, in first person this time because the story doesn't feel like it belongs to someone else now.

The first line read as it follows: 

How did I ever think San and I could be just friends? 

If you read all the way down here: THANK YOU SO MUCH. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2024.

[freyaphoria]

Hello! Since I can't save the writings in my drafts and your request is currently stuck in my drafts, I have to post it this way. I hope you can see your request T_T By the way, I wrote this 4 times, and the universe prevented me from writing it. Normally it was over 2k words, but most of it was deleted and I forgot what I wrote. Anyway, Love u!♡

Look Like a Freak

tw: nerd!Seonghwa x fem!reader, oral(giving mentioned, receiving), squirting, slapping, fingering, vibrator using, degradation, bondage, overstimulation

wc: 1.5k

taglist: @aim-blossom @matzrionette

“Seonghwa, are we really going to do it here?” It was too late to ask now. He made an approving noise as he abused your pussy between. To your surprise, he could hear you and respond. Normally, after tasting you, Seonghwa would be pussy drunk and wouldn't hear or see anything.

Seonghwa's room was the most virginity room you've ever seen. There were more Star Wars figures and Legos than you could count. And what is it? On the top shelf of the display case, on top of the Star Wars legos, there were colorful house legos and animals next to them, which you might think were related to animal crossing which might attract the attention of 5-year-old children.

You and Seonghwa went to the same university and met at the dance club. When you first met him, he was very quiet, buried in his book with a book by an unknown author in his hand and he was wearing the metal-framed glasses he was currently wearing, not communicating with anyone. Even though most people avoided communicating with him, you felt his potential in his eyes under those big glasses. You had initiated the first communication and asked him something about the star wars lego keychain hanging on his bag, and before you knew how the things had developed, he had pulled you into the back storage and made out with you. After a while, you started fucking after every dance lesson and became addicted to each other. You were nothing but a fuck buddy, but you'd still meet up at his house every once in a while to build Legos together like cute couple, and as you can imagine, your night would end up in his bed, trying to recover, with his cum dripping down between your legs.

Same thing today, you met at his house to play his favorite game, the two of you lying in bed while Seonghwa was playing Animal Crossing on his Nintendo. But you had made him horny without knowing why, and Seonghwa stopped his game, which was an unexpected move from him, and started eating you. Animal Crossing, where you played with Seonghwa, was still on on the TV and calm music was playing.

"Can you at least turn off that game? It's ruining the whole mood-" You were cut off by Seonghwa shoving your panties into your mouth. "Don't tire that beautiful mouth of yours by talking, you will be tired enough when I put my dick down your throat."

Who would believe that someone as nerdy as him could make you this wet? If you told your friends who knew him, they would all think you went crazy. But right now, you were in his bed with your legs wide open and you were dripping, Animal Crossing in front of you, Star Wars figures next to you, and a nerd Seonghwa losing himself between your legs.

When Seonghwa started using his fingers as well, you realized you wouldn't last long. He was eating you out and fingering you so professionally that you were seeing stars every time, your legs shaking uncontrollably and squirting on him. And so it was, the moment you felt his fingers inside you, curls them up and abusing your sweet spot while his tongue stimulates your clitoris, you couldn't hold back that ball that was growing in your belly any longer and you came into his mouth. Your voice came out as a muffled moan through your underwear in your mouth. "Oh but I couldn't hear you clearly, looks like we're going to do it again." He pulled the fabric from your mouth and kissed you hungryly. Since he still didn't remove his fingers from you, you continued to spasm uncontrollably around his fingers and began to squirm from the overstimulation.

"What is that? You got tired a little early for a slut like you. Open your legs." As you tried to close your legs, Seonghwa forced them open. When you closed them again, you were startled by the sound of him slapping your thigh hard. "You want to be a brat? Okay then." He let go of your legs and headed towards his desk. He opened his drawer, took the rope next to a lot of Animal crossing cards, closed the drawer hard and turned towards you. You held back your laughter when you saw the colored cards. He adjusted the thin metal-framed glasses that fell on the tip of his nose, found the end of the rope and started wrapping it around your wrists.

"Hwa, I'm getting rope burns, haven't you found that furry handcuff yet?" He tied the rope tightly around your wrists, he bent your leg towards you and brought your ankle closer to your hands and tied the rest of it to your ankles. "No I couldn't. And if you stop squirming, you won't get a burn." After tying your other side in the same way, he checked its strength and made sure that it was not loose. He looked at you, his masterpiece, from head to toe, then he spanked your pussy that you had forced open and exposed for him, and he moved towards your upper body. You let out a small scream at the sudden feeling of pain. He tied your upper body by looping the rope around your chest and tying it over your arm; so it stabilized your arms and prevented you from closing your legs.

"Now, what should we do with you?" You felt even wetter with the feeling of being restricted and having all your control in his hands. The feeling of emptiness inside you was becoming unbearable and if he didn't fuck you soon, you would start crying and whining from frustration. "Just fuck me already."

The left side of his mouth lifted up and laughed slyly. A deep chuckle escaped his throat. "No no, I won't give you what you want that easily." This time, he opened the drawer where he kept your toys under the previous drawer and took out the pink vibrator with remote control. When you think about what he did to you with it, your heart starts to lose its rhythm and the adrenaline in your body begins to tickle your pussy waiting to be filled. The vibrator that he play with you for hours and eventually makes you squirm from overstimulation and cry and beg him to stop...

"How about this? No coming until I finish my new lego set. If you come, I won't fuck you tonight. Understood?" "Wait, at least let me suck you." He moved the toy in his hand over your folds before inserting it inside you, collecting your wetness on the toy. "Are you that much of a cock slave? Is there a day you don't spend without sucking me? Can't that little belly of yours do without taking my cum?" Your face turned red because of his dirty words. Yes, there wasn't a day without sucking him, but there wasn't a day without him eating you either. You were considered equal in every way. After all, you were a fuck buddy and that was your purpose. "Please just let me take you in my mouth" He balled up the panties he had just taken out of your mouth and put it back into your mouth. "Just deal with it for now. You can do it, right? It shouldn't be too hard."

After laughing sarcastically, he moved the vibrator over your folds for the last time and put it inside you. You gasped at the sudden feeling of being filled. The fact that you didn't know when Seonghwa would start the toy and when he would stop it made you nervous and excited. After licking his fingers, which got wet because he inserted the vibrator inside you, and tasting you again, got up from you and took the lego bag next to his wardrobe and placed it on his desk. "Which one do you think I should do?" He took out the Lego sets one by one from the paper bag and showed them all to you. The hilarity of your current situation and the Animal Crossing music playing in the background almost made you laugh. You were thankful for the fabric over your mouth that prevented you from laughing.

"Oh that's it!" He took out the 1394-piece Ghost & Phantom II set from the bag and placed it on the table. When he took the remote control of the vibrator and started to turn it on at medium level, you first lost your breath and started to squirm in your place. But he tied the ropes so tightly that you couldn't move much.

"Remember, no coming until I finish this set." He opened the box and placed the contents on the table, looking at you who began to tremble slightly. “You look like a slut.” And you look like a freak you thought.

[tsukisrants]

The Help

pairing: choi san x afab! reader

word count: 11k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s this, are you threatening me?” he snaps back, a twisted laugh escaping from his lips bitten raw. He misunderstood because he always misunderstands everything—every word, every thought.

You don’t know how to get out of this. You don’t know what to do. It all keeps getting worse, second by second. You feel like you’re suffocating. You feel small, crushed under the weight of something far too big. But you want to be strong. Really, you desperately want to be. But more than anything, you wish you didn’t have to be. You wish you could be small, fragile. But safe.

You open your mouth to respond, even though resignation is already growing within you.

Something — someone — interrupts you.

“She’s not threatening you. But I am. Get your hands off her, buddy.”

You’re confused. This… this shouldn’t be happening. It never has before. No one has ever tried to help you, and it feels so surreal. But when you raise your eyes, you realize you’re wrong.

Your first thought, absurdly, is that the guy — the man — who spoke is one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen. Black hair, feline and intense eyes, broad shoulders. Jaewon’s jaw clenches. He’s not used to being interrupted, either.

But the nameless man has a hand gripping his arm, and he seems to be holding tight. And yet, his face shows little emotion. A stern gaze, but one that seems to soften slightly when it lands on you.

“Who the fuck is this? Someone you’re screwing, Y/n?”

The coward doesn’t have the guts to talk directly to him, so he keeps trying to belittle you, who are gasping, confused and scared, panic slowly growing in your chest. “No. But I am someone who’s about to hurt you really bad if you don’t let her go. You’re a pathetic worm, and I crush worms like you, buddy.”

Jaewon hesitates, his grip on your wrists loosening just a fraction. He looks at the guy up and down, a flash of doubt crossing his eyes. But then, like the pathetic creature he is, he tries to recover by puffing out his chest and snarling, “Mind your own fucking business, buddy. This is between me and her. Isn’t it, Y/n?”

The man’s gaze turns icier, his hand still gripping Jaewon’s arm like a steel vice. His expression remains calm, unsettlingly so, like he’s not even remotely threatened by the man in front of him. If anything, he looks vaguely irritated. Especially due to the fact that Jaewon tried to use you as a support for his own fucking tantrum.

“I don’t think you understand,” the man begins, his voice cutting through the night like a beacon. It’s something tangible where there was only darkness before. Maybe even a shred of hope. Salvation. “I’ve been polite up until now. Leave her alone.”

Jaewon seems stuck. Confused, maybe. You know him well enough to tell he’s seething with rage far beyond what he’s showing. But like the coward he is, he only targets those who seem defenseless, weaker than him. Jaewon doesn’t fight battles he knows he can’t win. “Fine,” he growls. It’s almost animalistic. His hands release your wrists with the same violence he used to grab them. He shoves you away, and you stumble a bit.

He doesn’t let go out of remorse or a guilty conscience. He lets go because he’s a coward.

The man next to you takes a step forward, steadying you. But before he can move any further, you find yourself clutching at the fabric of his shirt, desperate to keep him from leaving you alone.

Jaewon stalks off, radiating fury.

“Don’t leave me alone,” you whisper. You’re shocked by your own words because you never ask for help. It’s just not you. But now? Now you feel drained, overwhelmed, lost in a whirlwind of emotions you can’t fully process. And you don’t want this guy — this stranger who actually dared to intervene — to end up getting hurt because of someone as worthless as Jaewon. It wouldn’t be fair.

“No, hey, it’s okay. Everything’s fine now,” the man reassures you, his voice softer this time, actually addressing you directly. His gaze is completely different now: gentle, comforting. Still feline, yes, but more like a cat’s rather than a fierce predator’s.

“My name’s San,” he murmurs, and there’s a hint of shyness there, like he’s not used to introducing himself under these kinds of circumstances.

“I’m Y/n. Thank you, San. I didn’t think anyone… that anyone would help. You didn’t have to, but thank you. Really.”

San shakes his head, a tiny, dismissive smile curving his lips. But there’s something sad beneath that smile, something that looks almost like frustration. “No one was doing anything. I couldn’t just stand there and watch,” he mutters, his eyes casting sharp, judgmental looks at the bystanders — those who chose to do nothing yet couldn’t resist gawking at the scene.

“I’m used to it, don’t worry,” you reply with a sad smile of your own. Your body feels sluggish now, adrenaline bleeding away and leaving you with a mess of feelings you can’t quite untangle.

“Doesn’t make it right,” he counters, and the firmness of his words feels like a reminder, one you almost needed to hear. He gives you a little space, stepping back just enough to make sure you’re not uncomfortable. And that’s when you realize your hands are still clutching his shirt. You pull away as if you’ve been burned, embarrassment heating your cheeks. You mumble some kind of apology, but he quickly brushes it off.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to get you some water or something?” he asks, concern lacing his tone.

You shake your head. The ghost of Jaewon’s touch still lingers on your skin. “I’m fine, really. I just… I just need a minute.”

San doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push. You’re grateful for that, and grateful that he stays nearby, radiating a sense of security that feels so strange and new. “Take all the time you need,” he says, his eyes darting around as if making sure Jaewon’s really gone.

As your breathing steadies, you notice your whole body is trembling. You were planning to drink yourself into a carefree night at the club, not get stranded in the cold, fighting off the ghost of someone you never wanted to see again. You rub your arms, trying to warm yourself. The thin blouse and mini skirt you’re wearing do nothing to protect you from the chill.

“I owe you. Really,” you murmur, hating how weak your voice sounds. San shakes his head, almost annoyed by the thought of you owing him anything.

“You don’t owe me a thing. That guy’s a piece of shit, and you shouldn’t have to deal with his crap. No one should. I just did what was right,” he explains, and even as he speaks, he’s already shrugging off his leather jacket. Underneath, he’s wearing a simple black t-shirt that clings to him with an obsessive, almost painful elegance.

“Here, put this on,” he says, draping the jacket over your shoulders before you can even protest. Its weight is immediate and comforting, the warmth sinking into your skin and chasing away the last of your chills. It smells like him. Intense. Overwhelming. Alluring. And you hate that your first instinct is to bury your face in the collar and breathe him in like he’s the oxygen you’ve been starved of.

“Is that better?” he asks, his voice a little gentler now. And you can’t help but be thrown by how genuine he sounds, how every word feels like it’s meant just for you.

You nod, offering him a shy smile as you pull the jacket tighter around yourself. Your body’s finally starting to feel warm again. “Yeah, much better,” you reassure him, shrinking into the comfort of his jacket, trying to make yourself as small as possible within its safety.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" San asks, his gaze lingering on how your body all but vanishes within his jacket. His smile is soft, disarming, and you can’t help but notice how the delicate dimples decorating his face only enhance his allure. They’re a subtle charm, something that both fascinates and entices you in a way you can’t quite place.

You hesitate. Part of you wants to say yes. To go home, hide away, retreat to the safety of your four walls where everything is quiet and predictable. But you don’t want that. Not really. You refuse to hand Jaewon that satisfaction, to let him force you to abandon something you had planned for yourself. He's not worth it. And you've always promised yourself you wouldn’t sacrifice any part of who you are for anyone, especially not a man. And if that man is that sleazy idiot Jaewon, then your resolve is all the more unshakable.

So, you shake your head. And while your decision feels uncertain at first, the moment you take a long, grounding breath, you know you’re making the right choice.

“No,” you murmur, your shoulders tightening slightly before relaxing again. “I still want to drink and have fun. If I go home now, then he wins, right?”

Something flickers in San’s expression, a curious mixture of pride and admiration. His head bobs in an immediate nod, that dimple of his still very much present. “Exactly. Good. You shouldn’t let him think he has any power over you.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, a trace of hesitation lacing your movements. San is gorgeous. One of the most beautiful men you’ve ever laid eyes on, if not the most beautiful, period. Maybe it’s irrational, maybe it’s reckless, but who could blame you for trying to salvage something good out of an otherwise disastrous night?

“But if you want…” you begin, and his whole face seems to light up, feline eyes glittering with something rich and deliciously intense. “If you want, you could still keep me company? I was thinking of having a drink, clearing my head... But I don’t know if you had plans or needed to meet up with someone.”

San’s response is immediate, as if he’s been waiting to hear those words. His hand moves to brush back a rebellious lock of pitch-black hair that frames his face just so, making him look even more captivating. “Gladly. No, I... just some friends, but nothing important. I’ll send them a message. Mingi’s probably already out cold, anyway,” he explains with a casual shrug, as if you have any clue who the hell Mingi is.

But that’s not the point. The point is that San is here, offering his time and attention like it’s the simplest thing in the world. And maybe, just maybe, tonight doesn’t have to end as badly as it started. You let out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding. His answer comes so easily, so naturally, like being here with you is exactly where he wants to be. And that thought alone makes your heart stutter a little.

“Okay,” you say, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. “I hope your friends don’t get too mad at you for ditching them.”

San’s laugh is low, rich, with an edge of something playful that tugs at your nerves. “If anything, they’ll be relieved. Especially if Mingi’s already passed out somewhere. He’s a lot to handle, believe me.”

You chuckle, the tension easing from your shoulders bit by bit. “Sounds like a wild group.”

“You have no idea.” He tilts his head, eyes glinting under the dim lights as he studies you. Not just looks at you, but really studies you, like you’re something worth figuring out. You don’t miss the way his eyes seem to flicker down to your exposed legs, nor the way his ears get red when he notices you caught him staring. “But right now, I’d much rather get to know you,” he adds, a boldness to his tone that you don’t know whether it’s genuine or fake.

You take a breath. The umpteenth one of the night. You smile, because even when courage feels distant, you force yourself to embody it. You force yourself to give everything you have, no matter the cost. Even when it feels like you have nothing left to give.

You take a step. Timid, maybe, but determined. The next one feels almost scorching. You reach out and take San’s hand. Your fingers slip between his, intertwining so naturally it’s like they were always meant to fit. San’s eyes widen, surprise flickering across his face as a gorgeous flush blooms along his cheeks. The sight leaves your own skin blazing, but even through the embarrassment, you push forward, daring to claim what you want.

Heat rushes through you, sweet sparks dancing across your skin—tiny, glowing constellations sparking to life wherever your bodies connect. You lift your gaze to his, and it’s like he’s already wrapping himself around you, his presence both sheltering and electric. That intoxicating sense of protection lingers, and you already feel yourself starting to get addicted to it.

Your lashes flutter, but your eyes remain locked on his, a magnetic pull neither of you seems willing to break. His breathing has quickened, his grip tightening around your hand like he’s afraid you might disappear if he lets go.

“So, are you coming with me?” you whisper, your voice low and daring, trembling with all the possibilities hanging between you. His lips part, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that threatens to unravel you. But that’s fine. Because something about this moment feels real. Raw. Undeniably yours.

San licks his lips, and the he pulls you closer, his grip possessive and protective all at once. “Lead the way,” he murmurs, voice roughened by something you can’t quite name.

The club looms ahead, lights spilling out from the entrance, throbbing with bass-heavy music and the echo of laughter. You hesitate, but only for a moment, before tugging San forward, your fingers never breaking from his. As you step inside the club that was on other side of the street, the atmosphere swallows you both whole. You don’t usually go out clubbing, but when you do, you easily lose yourself to the feeling.

Neon lights slash through the darkness, painting everything in shades of electric blue and crimson. Bodies move and sway to the music’s hypnotic pulse, but it’s the warmth of San’s hand entwined with yours that makes your pulse stutter.

He leans in, his lips dangerously close to your ear, his voice low and tempting. “So, was this part of your plan? Dragging me in here just to keep me close?” The playful accusation sends heat spiraling through your chest. You meet his gaze, your smile taunting.

Despite the music, all you can hear it’s him.

“Maybe. But I wouldn’t call it dragging if you’re the one holding on so tightly.”

He chuckles, the sound dark and smooth, his dimple flashing as he looks at you like you’re the most captivating thing in the room. “Touché. Guess I’m not letting go anytime soon, then.”

“Is that promise?” you answer, tongue darting out of your mouth to wet your lips, his face following the way your lipstick stained lips shine under the lights of the club. “Maybe. Or a threat. It depends.”

You shake your head, but your answer gets lost when someone bumps against your shoulder as they pass by. San is quick: he tugs at your wrist, making you fall against his chest.

“Got you,” he says, looking proud of himself from doing so.

“Seems like it,” you answer, and he looks extremely pleased with the way you two seem to be playing the same game.

“You’re good at this,” you murmur, trying to sound nonchalant despite the way your heart is racing. He raises an eyebrow. “At what?”

“At making me forget about everything else,” you admit, softer than you intended.

San’s gaze softens, and his smile turns almost tender, though there’s still that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Maybe that’s not a bad thing,” he replies. “Never said it was,” you say, your body starting to tremble with the way the music dances around you two.

“Drinks?” he asks, titling his head towards the bar and pointing at it with his chin. You nod immediately, and San takes the lead, making you follow him as he makes room for the both of you in the endless sea of bodies that fill the space around you guys.

You reach the counter, and San leans over the bar with confidence, catching the bartender’s attention with a wave and ordering something you vaguely recognize as potent and smooth. Strawberry flavored, for the both of you. You like it, that that’s what he would choose for himself. He does indeed own a sweet vibe that you can’t quite capture.

When the drinks arrive, he slides yours toward you, his fingers brushing yours for just a moment—enough to make your breath hitch. He watches you intently as you take a sip, his own glass untouched.

“Good?” he asks, and instead of answering with words you decide to chug the drink down in one go, the alcohol immediately flooding your body and making your mind foggy enough to make the air thicken around you. “That’s my girl!” he says, laughing as he mirrors your gesture, a droplet of the drink spilling from his lips and leaving a sweet trace on his chin that he quickly dries with a flick of his thumb.

You’re momentarily stunned, your heart caught between beats. San doesn’t break eye contact, and suddenly the air between you feels charged, like a wire pulled too tight. Your instincts scream at you to look away, to break the tension before it swallows you whole—but you don’t. You can’t. You wouldn’t even dream of it.

“Let’s dance,” you say, the words slipping from your lips with more confidence than you feel. San’s smile blooms, wicked and beautiful, and before you can second-guess yourself, he’s leading you into the crowd, his fingers still interlaced with yours.

Once you reach the center of the floor, San doesn’t hesitate. His hands find your waist, fingers curling around you with a firmness that sends a fresh rush of heat through your skin. The music thrums low and sensual, and without needing any more invitation, you start to move.

At first, it’s just you finding your own rhythm, letting the beat guide your hips. But San matches you with ease, his body moving against yours with a grace that leaves you breathless. It’s like he’s made for this, the way his touch seems to melt into you, every subtle shift bringing you closer until there’s barely any space left between you.

His body is a dream. And on top of that, he knows how to use it. Your brain really has a hard time processing all that it’s happening, but you don’t find it in yourself to care. You keep moving, your bodies swaying in perfect sync, the music’s rhythm melting into the charged heat between you. San’s hands roam over your body like he’s memorizing every curve, every line, as if he’s known them all along. And you let him. You let him touch and explore, your defenses slipping away with each lingering brush of his fingers.

Your hands find their place behind his neck, your fingers pressing against the warm, feverish skin there. It feels like fire, a burn that leaves you craving more instead of pulling away.

Your fingertips glide through his hair, slow and testing, and you catch the way his eyes flutter shut the moment you touch him. His breath stumbles, just for a second, and it’s enough to make something wild unfurl in your chest.

Taking it as encouragement, you let your hands dive deeper into his hair, threading through the silky strands with a confidence you didn’t realize you had. The delicate texture brushes against your skin, soft but electric, feeding your courage. Then, with deliberate pressure, you tug at a few strands, savoring the sensation of his hair tightening against your grip.

The reaction is immediate. A deep, guttural sound vibrates from San’s chest, spilling into the air between you with a rawness that makes your own pulse stutter. His eyes snap open, dark and molten, searching yours.

But you don’t back down. You hold his gaze, your hands still tangled in his hair, daring him to show you more of that unguarded desire simmering beneath the surface. You want him to break. You need him to.

“Was that on purpose, Y/n?” he rasps, his voice thick and unsteady, the sound of it rumbling from deep within his chest. His lips are so close to your ear that his breath fans over your skin, hot and tantalizing.

“I don’t know, was it?” you bite back, mischievous and sweet, teasing him. You love the way your name sounds as it leaves his mouth. He smirks, and you can’t help but do the same.

“Looks like I found myself a little brat,” he comments, clearly amused by your antics. “Think you can handle it?” you ask, and just to prove your point, you tug again, just a little harder, and the way his jaw clenches makes your head spin.

His eyes flash, that competitive spark flaring to life. “Oh, I know I can, little one. But now you’ve got me curious. Just how far are you planning to push me tonight? Just how much you think you can take?” As he talks, San’s hands never stray far from you, his touch alternating between gentle and possessive, like he’s trying to figure out exactly how much of you he can claim. Little does he know, he already has it all. But, to be honest, you like the idea of him working for it a little bit.

“Sannie,” you start, smiling at him and enjoying the way the nickname seems to get through his skin, “I can take it all. And more.”

“Fuck,” he groans, eyes closing for a second. You’re making him lose his composure, and you couldn’t be more proud of yourself. “You’re impossible,” he murmurs, but the way his eyes roam over your face, lingering on your lips, makes it clear he wouldn’t have you any other way. “I should’ve known you��d be trouble from the moment I saw you.”

“Yeah, maybe you should have. But it’s too late now,” you tease, your nails digging into the skin of his neck, probably leaving tiny red marks as you keep on touching him.

Before you can think better of it, your fingers trail down his neck, brushing against his collarbone before settling on his chest. His heartbeat thunders beneath your touch, matching the wild rhythm of your own. “San…” His name falls from your lips like a plea, and you don’t even know what you’re asking for.

But he knows. Somehow, despite not even knowing you, San seems to know exactly what you need, like he’s reading you with a precision that leaves you breathless. Maybe it’s because it’s what he needs, too. You like to think so.

His hands tighten around your hips with a bruising force, and you gasp, the blend of pain and pleasure coiling hot and restless in your chest. His grip is possessive, commanding, and the way he handles your body leaves your legs trembling.

“I could make you say it out loud,” he whispers, his voice thick and dripping with wickedness. “Make you ask for it. Maybe even beg for what you want.” His face is so close to yours, his words brushing against your skin like a scorching caress. Your heart slams against your ribcage, your pulse a frantic beat under his ruthless attention.

“But maybe later, yeah? Right now, I think you deserve a little reward.”

And then he kisses you.

There’s nothing gentle about it: just pure, unfiltered hunger and greed crashing into you violently. His mouth claims yours, desperate and demanding, and it feels like everything suddenly clicks into place. His lips are rough and consuming, his tongue sliding against yours with a skill that leaves you reeling. And you try, you really do, to seize control of the kiss, to meet his intensity with your own. But it’s useless. He overpowers you effortlessly, his dominance written in every movement, every searing touch.

He tastes like everything you’ve been craving and everything you’re afraid to lose yourself to. He tastes like danger. Like hope.

You claw at his shoulders, nails digging into the firm muscle beneath his shirt, but it only seems to encourage him. He loves how desperate you are. His grip on you tightens, his fingers pressing into your skin with a force that leaves you aching and dizzy.

“You’re trying so hard to fight it, aren’t you?” he taunts against your lips, his voice a low, sinful rasp. “Pretending you’re not dying to give in. Pretending it doesn’t make you wet that I’m so much stronger than you. That I’m in control.”

His words sting, but you can’t deny the truth tangled within them. The way your body trembles under his touch, the way your pulse races at the sound of his voice, it all betrays you. Your own body.

“I’m not pretending anything,” you bite back, but even you can hear the waver in your voice. It doesn’t matter. Not really.

“No?” His lips trail along your jaw, leaving a trail of sinful kisses over your skin. “Good girls don’t lie.”

Your fingers curl into his hair, tugging hard enough to draw a ragged groan from him. You want to claw back some control, to make him feel even a fraction of the desperation he’s stirring in you.

“Never said I was one” you manage to say, breath heavy and tone not convincing at all.

“Oh, princess.” His laughter is low, charged with an amusing darkness. “Then I’ll just have to turn you into one.” A promise, a threat. The middle point, the perfect balance, the unbreakable intertwining of the two. Your chest rises and falls quickly, each breath you take feels almost solid, tangible.

In the whole room, there’s only one thing: San. San. San.

“I’ll have fun watching you try, then,” you reply, your tongue darting out to wet your lips just a bit. San loves the way you challenge him; it’s more than obvious by now. His excitement is as palpable as yours, and in the surrealism of what’s unfolding between you two, everything feels perfectly right.

“Come home with me, then. So I can prove you wrong.” San’s words cut through everything. He looks at you with something you’re not sure you can read. His eyes are dark, determined, but you catch a hint of hesitation and sweetness. Yours probably look the same.

It’s not like his request surprises you all that much, and yet, you feel completely caught off guard.

San’s hands don’t leave you, their warmth keeping you anchored to reality. His grip is firm, certain.

“I’m never wrong,” you say to him. It’s not a yes, not yet. San waits, patiently. You love that he doesn’t push, not even a little. “But maybe you’ve earned a little sympathy from me, Sannie. So I’ll give you a chance.”

He smiles. The reaction is immediate. His face lights up, and a soft giggle escapes your chest, too.

“You should be grateful we’re in a public place and your skirt is short, or I would’ve already thrown you over my shoulder,” he explains. You rise onto your toes and, with all the naturalness in the world, press your lips to his for just an instant. He’s caught off guard but clearly pleased by your boldness.

“Already feeling jealous, San?”

He rolls his eyes. Bingo.

He leans in, just enough that his breath grazes your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Keep talking like that and we won’t even make it to my place.”

Your laugh is soft, a little breathless. “And here I thought you had more self-control, San.”

“Self-control, y/n?” His smile is sharp, eyes darkening as they trace over you with an unapologetic hunger. “I have just enough to get us out of here without breaking all the rules. After that...” His gaze drifts down your body, then back to your eyes, voice low. “...I make no promises.”

You don’t bother hiding your smirk. “Then what are you waiting for, Sannie?”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. It’s like he was waiting for you to say those exact words. His hand finds yours once again, grip firm and impatient as he leads you through the crowd, the thrum of music and conversation fading to nothing.

Outside, the air is cooler, but it does nothing to dampen the heat sparking off of San. His fingers are still tangled with yours, and when he looks at you, you swear the city lights reflect his grin, sharp and electric. The moon touches his face gently, kissing his beautiful honey skin. Unreal. That’s how you’d describe him.

Then… it’s all hurried. He calls for a taxi, and you guys fight yourselves to keep your hands in place, trying hardly not to make a mess in the backseat of the car as a complete stranger drives you home. It’s- comforting. He tells you a little about himself: he dances. Teaches a class to kids to earn some money between his jobs as a dancer. Tells you you probably have seen him in some music videos in the past. Promises he’ll sing for you one day.

One day. The promise of a tomorrow.

Once you reach his place, though, there’s no time left for pleasantries. He holds your hands as he guides you to his door, and once inside his apartment the small talk dies.

Flames arise, and you’re ready to run through hell with him. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, San’s hands are on you, pressing you back against the wall with a hunger that’s only grown since that first playful exchange.

“I’ve been waiting for this all night,” he murmurs, voice thick and heavy. His eyes search yours, still checking, still giving you room to pull away. “Well,” you whisper, breathless and smiling. “Good things come to those who wait, right?”

The jacket he landed you falls on the ground, and he mutters a curse under his breath as he looks at you.

His lips are on yours before you even finish the sentence, though, all heat and intensity, the kind that leaves you dizzy and clutching at his shoulders like he’s the only thing keeping you upright. And maybe he is. So strong and perfectly built, his body is towering over yours, making you feel small and helpless in the most delicious way.

The kiss you share is ravenous, a desperate clash of tongues and teeth. His mouth claims yours with an urgency that leaves you breathless. His tongue and yours twist and tangle, battling for dominance, as his teeth nip at your swollen lips. The small, unbidden moans slipping from your mouth only spur him on, his own growls of pleasure vibrating against you.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he groans against your lips, his voice thick and ragged. His breath fans over your skin, hot and impatient.

He doesn’t hesitate. His hands grip your thighs, lifting you from the ground like it’s nothing, pressing your body flush against his. Your legs wrap tightly around his waist, your hips grinding against his without thought or restraint. You can feel how hard he is, the strained bulge of his pants rubbing between your legs, igniting heat that leaves you trembling. Your skirt rides up, leaving you scandalously exposed to him, and you catch the wicked glint in his eyes as he notices.

“Impatient,” you murmur, but your voice is breathless, betraying your own eagerness. His mouth finds your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin before sucking hard enough to leave you shivering. His grip tightens, his fingers digging possessively into your thighs as he carries you with firm, determined strides. You cling to his shoulders, the world around you a blur of shadows and heat. The only thing that matters is him.

He pushes the door open with his shoulder, his eyes never leaving you as he kicks it shut behind him. His bedroom is dim, but you barely register the surroundings. All you feel are his hands on your skin, his mouth teasing and tasting wherever he pleases.

“You have no idea,” he growls, his lips tracing along your jaw before his tongue flicks over your lower lip, drawing a shiver from you. “I don’t know how I stopped myself from lifting your skirt and fucking you on the dance floor in front of everyone.”

“You should have,” you moan, hands rubbing at his shoulders. “I would have let you.”

“You can’t just say shit like that, fuck,” he groans, his desperation palpable.

“Look at you,” he murmurs against your lips, voice low and filled with something almost primal. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” You swallow, your breath coming in shallow, ragged gasps as his mouth moves to your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His teeth scrape over your pulse point, a wicked smirk playing at his lips when he feels the way your body arches into him.

“San…” his name falls from your lips, a needy plea. It only seems to drive him further. You’d say more, but the words die in your throat, leaving space only to desperate little sounds that would make you blush in any other occasion.

“Say it again,” he growls, his hands sliding up your thighs, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin with infuriating gentleness. “Let me hear you. Say my name.”

“San,” you whisper, your voice trembling with desire, your nails digging into his shoulders as you press yourself even closer, arching your back to try and get some friction, your core pulsing and your panties getting wetter by the second.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and then he’s moving again, carrying you effortlessly until you reach the edge of his bed. You fall onto the mattress, and he’s on top of you in an instant, his weight pressing you down, his body fitting perfectly against yours.

“You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting this,” he murmurs, his voice rough and drenched in heat. “Every time I looked at you tonight, all I could think about was this. You. Spread out beneath me, exactly where you belong.”

“Show me,” you whisper, hands moving to grab his shirt and pull at it, working with the fabric to ask him to take the useless piece of clothing off. “Show me what you wanted to do to me, Sannie. You promised. You said you’d make me good. Fucking do it already.”

It was the right thing to say. “Watch your mouth, brat,” he bites back, looking at you like he wants to devour you whole.

San finally takes his shirt off, and what you see almost takes your breath away.

He’s perfect, so much that looking at him is almost painful. His skin shines like honey, his muscles are defined and imposing, and his body honestly looks like a wet dream come true.

San licks his lips. His smirk makes your head spin. He grabs your legs, moving your body around like one would do with a doll. He takes your boots off, and as he does that he kisses your ankles, looking at you in the eyes and sending shivers through your whole body. Your boots are soon forgotten as they fall on the ground with a loud noise.

You play with the buttons of your blouse, teasing him. One. Then the other. You espose yourself to his hungry gaze, anticipation mounting into you and making your hands tremble.

When it finally falls open, San almost rips it off of you. “No bra?” he asks, hands moving from your sides up to your breasts, grabbing them and squeezing, making you hiss in pain. “Dirty girl,” he comments, thumbs rubbing against your sensitive nipples.

You fight your own body, and force yourself to keep your eyes open as your hips move to meet his, your aching pussy begging for attention as you try and rub it against his clothed cock.

“Want it that bad?” he asks, pinching one of you nipples and making you almost cry out in pain. Tears pool at your eyes, and his hips are finally being pushed against your core, too. The length of his cock rubbing over your soaked panties.

You feel helpless, really. You want— you need him to touch you. You need to touch him. So your hands move frantically, trying to reach his pants and their button, your fingers rubbing against his bulge and making him hiss at the feeling. He lets go of your breasts, reaching for your wrists instead and stopping you from getting his pants off of him. “Good girls ask for permission,” he says.

Your eyes roll at the back of your head in frustration, and you try to escape his grip, but to no avail. He’s way stronger than you.

“Fuck, fuck, San, take them off. Please, wanna see you, wanna feel you,” you beg, way too impatient to get his cock inside of you to keep teasing him about it.

San smiles, “you can do better than that, can’t you? But this will have to do for now.”

You really wanna cuss him out, but you stop yourself when he starts to finally take those useless pants off, showing not only his bulge, but those sinful, strong legs of his. The sight is too much for you to take, so as you spread your legs wider, you decide to tease him some more.

You shift your hips, pulling up your skirt up until it’s resting all crumbled against your belly, exposing your wet panties to him. Your fingers start to rub against your own pussy with hunger, your clit begging to be touched and relieved.

San’s eyes go wide at the sight, and you watch as he grabs his own bulge in return, hips moving forward as he fucks into his own hand as he watches your pitiful attempts at pleasuring yourself.

“I’m so wet for you, Sannie,” you whisper, moans escaping your lips as you arch you back to get more friction against your cunt.

“You’re such a little slut, aren’t you? Fuck, look at that, Y/n… Pull those panties to the side. Show me that pretty little hole, yeah?”

“It’s all yours, Sannie,” you whisper, eyelashes fluttering as you grab the fabric of your panties and pull them to the side. Air hits your core, and the cold makes you shiver all over. Your hole pulses with the need to be filled, and your lips are glistening with the thickness of your arousal.

San’s eyes burn your skin. He seems completely lost in the sight of your pussy exposed to him. Enough that impatient starts to show off on him, too. He pulls his boxers down, and reveals his cock to you. “Fuck,” you moan, cause you just can’t help yourself. It’s long. Thick, with veins running through the length. The tip is such a pretty shade of pink, shiny with droplets of his pleasure. Your mouth waters at the sight, and your mouth starts to feel empty, too.

What you’re feeling is so intense it’s overwhelming. It leaves you stunned, breathless, your body feverish and desperate for relief.

For a fleeting moment, you think of Jaewon and everyone who came before him—how utterly insignificant they seem now, more than ever. How San is beyond their reach, and maybe even beyond the rest of the world’s.

Standing naked before you, San looks like a dream. Even you can barely believe it, as if he’s nothing but a mirage. But he’s not, because his breath matches yours, its warmth colliding with your skin.

A delicious reminder that, tonight, the most beautiful man in the world is yours. And if you have any say in it, you’ll do everything to keep him close.

But what you don’t see is how San’s eyes drink you in, reverent and hungry all at once. To him, you are the very thing dreams are made of—something precious, fragile, yet burning with a fire that matches his own. San’s world narrows to the space between you, his thoughts muddled and clear all at once: he wants to be yours just as fiercely as you want him to be.

It’s your resolve that breaks first, and you find yourself taking your panties off, throwing them at his face. He laughs, and you do the same thing. But his eyes never cease to hide darkness.

His hand grabs the fabric, and you see him mouth at your panties, lips running through the wet cotton. It’s so fucking dirty, that you can’t help but raise on your hips and pull yourself up, your hands reaching for his neck.

You pull him down with you, making him fall on top of your body. You kiss him through your own fucking panties in what has to be the most desperate, nasty kiss of your own life.

Spit mixed with your own juices, the texture of it all fucked up and weird in a way that makes you even more desperate. San growls against your mouth, his hands going back to your breasts first, before one leaves to trace your body up to your neck. You freeze as the loudest moan of the night leaves your throat, and the panties finally fall on the bed, now forgotten.

“You like that?” he asks, testing the waters. “What do you think?” you reply, forcing yourself to be a brat just a little longer.

“I think you like it. I think you want me to be rough, and that’s why you keep being a brat. You want me to make it hurt, baby? You just had to fucking ask.”

And then- then his grip gets tighter. Just as he pushes down his hips, your pussy welcoming his hard cock. The tip slides easily against your abused clit, and as breathing becomes harder, you find yourself spreading your legs even wider than before. “Look at you,” he whispers, laughing softly. “So pathetic, huh? Cock makes you stupid, little one. And I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

You want to deny, really. But I’d be useless. You both know it. So you do what you do best: you take. You take and moan and feel.

San seems pretty satisfied, and while he never lets go of the grip he has on your neck, his other hand reaches your face. “Open,” he orders, tapping on your chin. Your mouth falls open almost immediately. “Tongue out,” he adds. You obey.

“Good girl,” he praises, making you moan.

“If it’s too much- anything. If anything is too much, you tell me, okay?” Softness. His tone caressing you. You nod, you voice it out. “Yes,” you say. He nods, then he spits. He spits in your mouth, and you feel the thickness of it as the juice slides on your tongue.

“Make them wet,” he says. Then he pushes two of his fingers inside your mouth. His skin is both soft and rough: hjs body must require hours in the gym, and you don’t have to wonder why his hands have that weight to them.

“You like it, don’t you? Having your little mouth full. I can see it. You’re humping me like a bitch in heat, princess.”

His fingers get more rough: he rubs them inside your mouth, pushes them down your throat and makes you choke a little, the passage tight from the grip he still has on your neck. “W-wish t’was your cock,” you manage to blurt out, words slurred as your mouth gets filled up.

“Yeah, baby? Fuck, you’d feel so good choking on it. A little cock sleeve for me, your head empty as you only have to fucking suck and get messy for me.”

You nod, moaning desperately. He chuckles, and then your mouth is empty. But- but then your pussy isn’t. He takes those wet, shiny fingers down, and pushes them between your legs. He finds your hole easily, and those two fingers are pushed inside your pussy without care. It drags a loud moan from you, and San starts to fuck you with them immediately, curling them up just the way you love, his thumb rubbing at your clit.

“So tight, fuck,” he groans, leaving your neck. He raises a little, cause he wants to fucking look at the ways your pussy swallows his fingers hungrily. They disappear inside of you and your walls clench over them, trying to get them as deep as possible.

“More, more, please,” you moan, your hands replacing his as you touch your breasts before his eyes. “Shit,” he whispers. “You’re gonna kill me, baby,” he groans, the slide of his fingers loud as squelching sounds come from your hungry core. You raise a little and look down, too, desperate enough to want to have the sight of his hand glistening with your wetness engraved into your mind forever.

Pleasure builds up from all the arousal you’ve felt during the night, and you almost feel like crying as San takes pity on you and decides to rub more constantly at your puffed clit, his thumb making circular movements to help you reach your climax.

“G-gonna… you’re gonna make me cum,” you groan, fighting your own body to keep your eyes open. You want to see: him, his body, his face. Everything. “Ask. Be good, Y/n. Ask for fucking permission, or else.”

It’s too much. His tone, his stern voice, the threat lingering behind his words. You can’t take it anymore, and your whole body starts to tense up as your legs being to tremble uncontrollably.

“Let me- let me, please. Sannie, m’gonna cum, let me, please, please, can I? I can’t- I’m going to…”

“Cum. Fucking cum over my fingers, princess. Be a good little slut and make a mess for me.”

That’s all you needed. You fall back onto the mattress, pitiful moans leaving your mouth as you hiccup through your own pleasure. San keeps fucking his fingers into you, your orgasm seeming to never end as you comply to his orders and make a huge mess of the sheets and of his fingers, wetness gushing out of your reddened pussy as you clench hardly over his hand, sucking in his fingers as they own you from the inside.

He guides you as you try and gather some control over yourself. Your hair is a mess, your skin flushed red and nipples so hard it hurts. A thin layer of sweat covers your skin, and you can see that the same thing goes for him.

He pats you, fingers leaving your body: he gives your overwhelmed pussy a few light slaps, a weak scream leaving your mouth as pleasure and pain seem to electrify you all of a sudden, making you take deep hurried breaths to keep yourself grounded. “Made me so proud,” he praises, and as he does that he brings his own hand to his face, tongue moving sinfully as he licks his fingers before your eyes, moaning as you juices invade and dominate his tastebuds. “Such a sweet pussy,” he comments, and something seems to flash before his eyes like a sudden realization.

He bends over, folding you in a half as he moves you around by the back of you thighs, face disappearing in between your legs as he attacks your cunt, licking at the skin to clean your own mess up.

You grab onto his hair, pulling at it in the way he so clearly likes, and the tip of his tongue fucks into you a few times, making your head spin.

“Gonna… Sannie, you’re gonna make me cum again if you keep doing that,” you warn him, legs closing around his head as you can’t help but ride his tongue which is now torturing your clit. You’re all puffy and wet, and San shows you no mercy, moaning loudly against your pussy. You see that he’s basically humping the bed under him, and the sight is so dirty that it brings you painfully close to the edge.

“Do it,” he groans, “give me another one, princess. Squirt your juices on my face, wanna taste you.”

How could you deny him? You scream his name: both because he loves it when you do it and because there’s nothing else your mind knows apart from that right now. Just: San. San. San. And his fucking magical tongue, apparently.

The second orgasm of the night is as powerful as the first, if not more due to the extreme overstimulation. Despite the pain, it’s still insane. Your body trembles all over, and your eyes roll at the back of your head until San slows down, lazily lapping at your lips and at your thighs, cleaning them up. “Fuck, you’re so hot when you cum, wish I could stay trapped between your legs all fucking night.”

He keeps kissing your legs, allowing you some time to regain control over yourself. He bites, too. Sucks on the skin to leave what surely are gonna be pretty marks. He rubs his cheek over the inside of your thighs, and then he helps you out of your skirt, which was still all ruffled over your waist.

San looks almost possessed, chin wet with a mixture of spit and of your pleasure, a satisfied smile on his face that makes him look like the happiest man in the whole world.

“Kiss me, please,” you ask, eyes heavy as you make grabby hands at San, feeling vulnerable yet safe. He doesn’t make you wait, kissing you immediately. Your lips meet once again, and you don’t dwell too much on the reason why it feels so right to be kissing him, rather focusing on the way you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue.

“Please, Sannie,” you whisper against his lips, “Fuck me. Wanna get fucked so bad, please. Wanna make you feel good,” you add, moaning as you let out all the begging you had been keeping down.

“Precious, you’re so precious,” he grunts, licking inside your mouth as he takes your legs and forces them open. You lick your hand, spit covering your skin.

You’re touching his cock now, having it into your hand and tugging at it, hand sliding over his length and rubbing at the tip, making him moan and whimper. It’s a delicious sound.

“So big,” you comment, guiding San’s cock to your pussy. “Such a big cock, Sannie. Biggest cock i’ve ever had, baby. You’re gonna split me in a half. Gonna have to make it fit, Sa-“. He interrupts you, probably going crazy at the thought of any other man ever coming close to you.

He just— pushes inside. In one sinful stroke. No condom, just raw skin against raw skin, all thanks to you mentioning being on the pill on your taxi ride back home.

It’s insane, cause yours weren’t lies. He really has the biggest dick you’ve ever had, and it’s stretching you open beautifully. You feel it all the way inside your belly, and even to the point in which you could feel in your fucking throat.

“Take it,” he says, looking down at where your bodies meet, “take it all. Take my fucking cock, baby. Gonna be the last cock you ever fucking take. Gonna keep you, yeah? Gonna keep you all to myself.”

Should it scare you? You don’t know. But it doesn’t, cause that’s what you’re thinking too. You want no one else. After this, it has to be him. He has to be yours. You have to be his.

“Gonna- my cock. It’s my cock now, Sannie,” you reply, smiling happily as you get stretched over him, the tip of his cock reaching so deep inside of your body you can feel it hit your fucking cervix. It’s so good, you already feel yourself getting dumb from it. “It’s mine, all mine. And m’yours. Fuck me like I’m yours, Sannie. Ruin me, hurt me, anything, please.”

He won, after all. He won and you’re happy he did, cause you wanted to lose to him ever since the start of the night.

“You’re mine. My pretty princess. My beautiful little slut. I found you, huh? Not gonna let you go.”

And now he’s fucking you. His cock slides in and out of your body, balls hitting you as he hurriedly moves inside of your throbbing cunt.

His forehead glistens with sweat, and you move your head to slide your tongue over the skin of his neck, the taste salty yet sweet. You suck on the skin, feeling something primal that shouts at you to mark him up. He must like it, cause he buries himself deeper inside of you as you lap and bite at his neck.

“Harder, please… fuck me harder,” you beg as your nails run through his back, leaving pretty red marks on his skin. “Yeah? Harder, baby?” he asks, smirk appearing in his face alongside his pretty dimple, feline eyes burning into your skin.

While you nod, he leaves. He leaves you empty and begging, and you feel yourself on the verge of tears as soon as he does. But he’s quick to take care of it, and he manhandles you around, moving you around until you’re face down ass up on the bed, all spread open for him as your pussy spasms with the need of being filled up again.

San spanks you a few times, ass moving with the force of his hits. You moan out each time, pushing back against him cause you seem to never have enough of it. Grabbing you by the hips, San finally sinks down back inside your cunt, balls hitting your clit now, adding yet another feeling to the overwhelming mixture of sensations you’re feeling now.

“Let’s see,” he murmurs, and you bend your neck to be able to see the wicked expression he’s showing now. He grabs you by the hair and fucking yanks, making you cry out in pain as he practically bends you in a half, “you like it, doll? huh? pulling my hair at the club and thinking you could fucking get away with it?” he growls into your ear, tongue lapping at your earlobe and sucking it into his mouth.

“Say you’re sorry, whore. Say sorry for being a fucking brat, be a good girl.”

For a moment, everything spirals into madness: a fierce, unrelenting overload of emotions and sensations. Tears stream from your glossy, reddened eyes, your face a wreck of smudged makeup, ruined and raw. Your mouth hangs open, a thin trail of saliva connecting your parted lips to your chin. You are the very image of desperate slut.

And yet, it’s time to confess.So you nod, crying beautifully through the wreckage. “Sorry, sorry, San, I’m sorry,” you babble, a frantic litany of apologies spilling from your trembling lips, earning an amused grunt from him, who hasn’t stopped fucking you.

He’s rough with it, touching your body all over. Holding you up by the hair and making it hurt just like you asked, fucking his cock into you over and over again, the sound of it nasty and loud. He pushes you closer to your limit, stuffing your mouth full of his fingers and commenting on how debauched you look. “Filled up from both ends just like you deserve, baby. Happy? Yeah, look at that pretty smile of yours, princess. You just love getting stuffed, it’s so hot.” His words are filthy, humiliating, and they burn at the pit of your stomach, making your arousal grow bigger than your own self.

You can’t answer, cause your mouth is getting pulled open by his fingers. He’s fucking them inside, holding your mouth open and making you make a mess of yourself as spit falls from your lips and reaches your neck.

Right before it gets too much, he lets go, using the hand that was in your hair to push your face back into the mattress, pushing you down using his strength and making you feel extremely overpowered.

“Stay fucking there. You stay there and take it, you hear me? Take my cock, Y/n, you were made for it,” he orders, and you feel how he’s starting to lose control, too. His cock feels even bigger now, and as crazy as it sounds you can feel it pulse inside of you, rubbing against your abused walls.

He’s just using you at this point, using your body, your cunt— turning you into his personal flashlight as he chases his own release.

You want it so bad, and the thought of him finally dumping his load into you has you getting closer and closer to the third orgasm of the night. You’re drooling over yourself like a dog, moaning so loudly you’re probably gonna have do deal with a sore throat in the morning, but it feels so good that you don’t care at all.

San takes and takes. Gives and gives. Hurts you and destroys you and puts you back together all at once, owning your mind and body completely.

“I’m so close,” he warns, shoving himself inside of you without care, hands coming down to hit your ass, probably leaving red marks resembling his hands all over your skin. You nod, over and over again, begging him to give it to you.

“Cum inside, Sannie, inside of me please,” you start, and you get interrupted by him blurting out a “fuck,” so loud that it makes you smile with pride.

“You want me to fill you up, princess? Want me to blow my load inside your pussy? Breed you full?” he asks, running his fingers and nails over your back, using your hips as leverage to fuck inside your cunt deeper, your walls convulsing over his cock as if begging to have it as deep as possible.

“Yes, please, want you to cum inside, want to be full of it, want your cum… i’ve been so good, Sannie, give me my reward, please,” you beg, crying freely and using your own hands to hold your cheeks open, moaning loudly as it only makes his cock slide deeper.

You don’t even need to touch yourself this time, because the thought of him filling you up would be enough on its own to make you cum.

You feel the orgasm approach and you surrender to it when he grits his teeth and blurts out a series of curses, calling you names and praising you all at once as his movements become more erratic and violent. You feel your stomach bulging with it, the tip of his cock poking at your belly from the inside, and your eyes roll back as he fucking spits on you- droplets of it hitting your ass.

“Here it comes,” he warns you, chest rising fast as his legs tremble. “Take my fucking load. Don’t fucking spill it, baby. All inside this pussy, I’m- I’m coming inside of you, pretty. Fuck!”

His last strokes are languid and dirty, deep and full of ownership. He shoves his dick as deep as possible inside of you, and your spasming pussy welcomes it and milks it. Your own juices gush out as you cum all over his dick, your orgasm strong and powerful, and he pumps his load so deep inside your cunt you can fill every drop of it as it paints your insides white. Thick and hot, his cum gets pumped inside of you, claiming your pussy and marking it up as his once and for all. Staining you, messing you up, breeding you full.

He stills, staying inside of you for a little longer, feeling every second of his orgasm as you clench over him, enhancing his pleasure.

Your breaths are both heavy and ragged, bodies hypersensitive and buzzing with lingering warmth. San’s body collapses against yours, but even then, he’s careful not to crush you under his weight. Despite his own exhaustion, he moves you across the bed with ridiculous ease, still making sure to handle you gently.

He holds you close like he’s afraid you might slip away, and, truthfully, you find yourself doing the same.

Eventually, he gets you both where he wants: him lying on his back, and you curled up against his chest, which is still heaving with every fierce breath. San’s fingers slide through your hair, playing absently with a few strands, while you leave tiny kisses along his chest, your cheek brushing against his skin.

“That was…” you start, biting your lip and blushing a little, “…incredible,” you both finish at the same time, laughing softly as you cling even tighter to each other.

You feel his hand trail down your back, fingertips tracing random patterns on your skin. He tilts your chin up with his other hand, smirking just enough to make your heart skip.

“Didn’t know you had it in you,” he teases, eyes glinting with mischief. “I might just have to keep you all to myself from now on.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but your cheeks burn, and he catches it immediately. His smirk softens into a fond smile as he pulls you even closer, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead. You nuzzle into his chest, feeling his heartbeat still racing beneath your touch. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” you whisper, half-challenging, half-reassuring. A promise and a threat, both interlaced with hope.

“Oh, I know,” he replies, voice dropping just enough to make a shiver run through you. “You’re mine now. Not letting you go.”

He kisses the top of your head, then leans down to murmur against your ear, tone both teasing and affectionate. “Better get used to it, princess. You’re stuck with me.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

notes: thank you for reading this! this is my first san fic… can you believe it? since he’s my bias and all. i hope you liked it, really. let me know in the comments your thoughts (the dirtier, the better). i hope you had fun! see you next time <3

[strrykais]

(☘︎) ─── different sides of the internet

gamer!yunho x camgirl!reader

with an accidental package swap with your neighbor, jeong yunho, the one who keeps you up at night with his constant yelling. when an opportunity to make a big check comes your way yunho somehow is the only person who can help, luckily for him he finds you hot, and who is he to pass up the chance to sleep with you.

𐀔𓂃 kais note: i need yunho so bad.. like its painful to think he isnt balls deep in me.

back to library | req: yes / no

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | extra

© strrykais ⋅

🏷️ : asked to tagged !

reblogs, likes and replies are appreciated! feel free to send constructive feedback/thoughts in my asks!

[from-izzy]

[00:35] | ATEEZ CHOI SAN

“And if I do?”

pairing » ateez choi san x fem!reader

trope/au » established relationship au, non-idol au

genre » very fluffy, falling asleep during studying and boyfriend san who is worried for you because you don't take the greatest care of yourself, (it really was supposed to be fluff all through the end) turns suggestive towards the last quarter of the story, reader is a bit playful, san is very in love with you, of course you are super in love with him too

word count; estimated reading time » 1032; ~4 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » quite suggestive at the end, indeed...a suggestive sentence at the very end, san lifts the reader up, reader wears glasses, reader implied to be smaller than san, san restrains reader's hands, pet names (bubs, baby girl)

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist 🤍 the boyz lee juyeon ver.

my ateez debut! here it is @jaehunnyy !! i really wanted to post smth for your bday so please take this as a late bday present 😭 thanks for proofreading a bit of this one and finding the pictures for the banners 🥰 you saved me a bunch of tears fr 😀 have fun with the second one (even though it's the same...😭)

It’s not an unusual occurrence for you to be staying up late at night and for San to find you draped over your books and worksheets when he gets home. In fact, it’s becoming such a usual occurrence that San is making it a habit to open the front door with such gentleness that the click of the door opening would be too loud for his liking. In reality, your study desk at your shared apartment is quite a distance from the entrance of the apartment, so if San wanted to, he could enter in the same way as if you were awake.

But he didn’t want to.

In the rare case that you decide to snooze off on the couch, he doesn’t want to be the one to ruin your precious, peaceful sleeping time. Unfortunately for him, he would still be needing to do it one way or another if he ever finds you asleep on the couch or anywhere but your shared bed. The victorious smile from closing the front door quietly soon turns upside down, frowning at the sight of your head lying on your stack of handouts in the study room. The stack acted as your pillow, your arms around the rectangular pile. You look like you have been resting your body for some time now, given that San’s soft head pat didn’t faze you at all. With a slightly heavy sigh, San makes his way to the other side of the desk to get a better look at your face. He kneels on the floor, content with being more at eye level with you. 

He’s surprised to see that you must’ve been so exhausted that taking your glasses off might have been too much effort for you. The side frame completely rests on the paper, the nose pad of the glasses no longer resting properly on your nose. San hisses at how the hard plastic pushes against your nose, already imagining the pain when you wake up and realise tomorrow.

“Bubs,” he tests your consciousness with a whisper. “Your whole body is going to hurt when you wake up, you know?” Your breathing is still as even as before, and the no response from you deepens his frown. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to move you, okay?” 

San rises to his feet once again, grabbing the blanket drapped on your study desk that he has prepared. He’s told you multiple times to at least cover your body if you don’t plan to take a nap on the bed, but he should have known that when tiredness kicks in, all a person wants to do is to close their eyes. San spreads the light cotton across your back, kissing the side of your head and humming sweet melodies to avoid surprising you too much with his movement.

“San?” You slur sleepily, still unable to fully wake up. San clicks your desk light off and soon sees your content smile at his little gesture. “When did you get home?”

“Just a few seconds ago. When did you fall asleep?”

“Just a few minutes ago.” A raised eyebrow from your boyfriend is what prompts you to tell him the truth. “A little longer than that.”

San tuts disapprovingly, “You can’t keep slouching off on the table. It’s not good for your body. And this,” he takes your glasses off by the hinges, “it’s not comfortable for you.”

You hum at his loving lecture for you, beginning to straighten your back from the long nap. Truthfully, if San weren’t beside you right now, you would be sending complaints to your past self for dozing off at the table, your back cramping and sore. But Choi San knows you too well, and the creases between your eyebrows tell him everything.

“See?” He reprimands. 

You’re not given another chance to rebut when he swivels the chair around for you to face him. In a second, you’re in his arms, the back of your knee and back supported securely with his arms, and your shoulder pressed against his chest. San looks down at you, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead that you respond to by pressing yours along his jawline. Along the short walk to the adjacent room, you plant kisses all over his face, giggling at the way his cheeks grow red with every second. 

Just a few seconds before San would rest you gently on the mattress, you steal a kiss from his plump lips, arms wrapped around his nape and threading your fingers into the strands of his hair. San almost stumbles but soon regains balance when he registers the way you delicately take his lips. Along with the giggles and fabric rustling against each other in the small room, it’s not long until your head properly lays on a pillow. San doesn’t let you breathe after, climbing on top of your figure with his palms beside your head to support himself. His knees sink to the mattress beside your thighs, and you’re left breathless with the man before you. The remnants of his cologne are clearer now, and the proximity leaves you curling up a side of your lips.

Your boyfriend knows the meaning of your expression well from experience. “Don’t rile me up, baby girl…”

Just like he did a second ago, your eyebrow rises. Your pointer traces along the center of his exposed neck, feeling the gulp and his intense stare on you. You glide across his skin, tracing along his collarbones slowly, making sure that your touch lingers on his skin. When your finger slides down to the neckline of his fabric, it curls around his shirt to pull his tense expression closer to you. A quick touch of your lips is all you spare him before regaining eye contact with him.

“And if I do?”

Those words are enough for San to lose control, pulling the sheets to his palms as he fists them tightly. One hand leaves the bed, restraining both your wrists under his hold above your head. He dives closer to the crook of your neck, ragged breathing and warm breath against your skin.

“I’ll make sure you’ll sleep peacefully for days.”

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 ateez masterlist 🤍 the boyz lee juyeon ver.

tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @blossomnet

@haneul-and-clouds @jaehunnyy @mars101

[nervousdiythesimspsychic]

The Fox and the treasure hunters

The fox and the treasure hunters

pairing: ateez x fox fm reader

genre: mystery, thriller, adventure

warnings: violence, dark themes, Psychological Trauma, Psychological Stress, blood and gore, Physical Danger, Suffering, Emotional Growth, Trauma,

summary: (y/n) has been on the run her whole life. She is accompanied by the spirit of a fox, which was placed in her mind by a witch. Over the years, she has learned to work alongside the fox, but the trauma of her youth runs deep. Because of this, she is wary and trusts no one. One day, eight men walk toward the village; her instincts tell her that they are here for her. Can these men earn (y/n)'s trust and pull her out of the darkness while they search for the treasure, where (y/n) turns out to be a key player in ways they never expected?

xxx Ziezo

masterlist - Next

Chapter 1: Shadows and Secrets

It was late in the afternoon when (y/n) heard that eight strangers had entered the village. She knew immediately that these weren’t ordinary travelers. Their posture, their appearance—everything about them screamed they were here with a purpose. Curious but cautious, she decided to keep an eye on them. By evening, she had perched herself on the roof of the inn, her battered boots firmly planted on the wooden roof as she observed the men.

From her position, she couldn’t fully hear their conversations, but their body language spoke volumes. One of them, a smaller man with black hair, seemed to be the leader. His movements were confident, and the others instinctively followed his lead. As she watched them closely, (y/n) felt her inner fox stir—a faint warning rippling through her. These men were not here by chance.

“We need to find her,” (y/n) heard a voice say as the group stepped into the tavern. She strained her ears, holding her breath.

“And if she refuses?” another asked, his voice noticeably less assured.

“Then we’ll make it clear she has no other choice,” the leader replied with calm determination. “But violence… that won’t be necessary.”

Her eyes narrowed. Who were they looking for? Her heart quickened, and as she edged closer to the tavern’s open window, a strange tension in the air made her uneasy.

“We’ll start early tomorrow morning,” the leader’s voice sounded again. “We’ll split up and question the villagers. Perhaps someone’s seen or heard something. She can’t hide forever.”

A tall man with messy brown hair, his sword casually strapped to his belt, leaned forward. “And what if she sets a trap?” he asked. “What if she’s dangerous?” His tone was both curious and concerned.

“That’s always a possibility,” the leader answered, his gaze fixed on his beer as if the answer was in it. “But we know what we’re doing.”

A cold shiver ran down (y/n) spine. They were well-organized, that much was clear. As she tried to keep her breathing as quiet as possible, she heard a new voice speak.

“Don’t you think she’s already watching us?” said a man with a heavier, calmer tone. His gray cloak seemed to absorb the tavern’s candlelight rather than reflect it.

“Perhaps,” the leader admitted, his eyes slowly scanning the room. “But it doesn’t matter. Eventually, she’ll make a mistake. Everyone does.”

(y/n) grinned in the shadows, a mix of defiance and nerves. She knew he was right—her clumsiness had gotten her into trouble before. But not this time.

As the group continued their conversation, she noticed one of them, a man with silver-gray hair and an almost otherworldly presence, suddenly went quiet and looked toward the shadows. His dark eyes seemed to slide directly in her direction. (y/n) froze, her muscles coiled like a spring.

“Seonghwa? What is it?” one of the others asked, a younger man with striking blond streaks in his black hair.

Seonghwa remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on where (y/n) was hiding. “Nothing,” he finally said, his voice soft but penetrating. “I just thought… I heard something.”

“Probably a cat,” the blond man chuckled. “Or a fox.” His comment drew a wave of laughter from the others, but Seonghwa didn’t smile. He kept his eyes on the shadows for a few seconds longer before pulling back and returning his attention to the group.

(y/n) exhaled slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she’d come dangerously close to being discovered. These men weren’t ordinary adventurers—they were sharp, dangerous, and determined. But so was she.

As the conversations in the tavern carried on, (y/n) carefully crept away from the window. She knew she needed a plan to drive these men out of her village as quickly as possible. And to do that, she’d have to be better than her reputation. She would have to be a fox at night.

The next morning, the market was in full swing. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, fish and herbs, while villagers busily sold and bought their wares. (y/n) effortlessly blended into the crowd, her tattered clothing and nonchalant demeanor ensuring that no one noticed her. Yet her eyes constantly flicked toward the eight men, who were scattered across the market in pairs, questioning the villagers.

She smirked. Did they really think anyone here could help them? The stories about the fox were nothing more than rumors, inflated by fear and imagination. Some villagers claimed the fox was a man; others swore it was a spirit that only appeared at night. No one knew that it was her—a young woman who had been hiding in plain sight for years.

Her grin quickly faded when she saw how close the men were getting. Hongjoong, the small but confident leader, stood with Yeosang by an old herbalist. They seemed calm, even polite, but their questions were direct.

On the other side of the market were Wooyoung and San. San appeared to be the quiet observer, but Wooyoung—with his playful smile and flirtatious demeanor—was clearly the one doing the talking. To her annoyance, they were heading in her direction.

“Good morning!” Wooyoung called out as he approached her. His smile was disarming, but (y/n) kept her face impassive.

“What do you want?” she asked sharply, gripping her basket of herbs a little tighter.

“Relax,” Wooyoung said breezily. He leaned casually against the stall beside her, letting his eyes roam over her. “We’re just here to ask a few questions. Have you, by any chance, heard anything about… a fox?”

“A fox?” (y/n) repeated, her voice laced with feigned ignorance. “You mean the animal?”

San, standing next to Wooyoung, scanned the market carefully. “More of a… figure,” he said. “Someone who might not be exactly who they seem.”

You shrugged. “Sounds like a folktale.” “This village has plenty of those kinds of stories.”

Wooyoung grinned. “Maybe. But you know, I love a good mystery.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a deeper tone. “And I get the feeling you know more than you’re letting on.”

“Maybe I just don’t like strangers ruining my morning,” you shot back, turning away as if busying herself with her herbs.

San gave a faint smile but said nothing. Wooyoung, however, seemed amused by your sharp response. “You know,” he said, “if you help us, we can make sure we’re gone sooner.”

“I don't know how to help you,” you replied coldly. “Maybe you should ask someone else.”

Before Wooyoung could say more, San lightly tugged on his shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said simply, his gaze briefly sweeping over you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

You watched them leave, her heart pounding in her chest. That had been too close. She needed to be even more careful—and faster. If these men thought they could find you, they were wrong. But deep down, she felt the tension building. The game of cat and mouse had begun.

Less than fifteen minutes later, what she’d feared happened. As she passed a fruit stall, she heard a deep voice behind her.

“Ma’am, a moment?"

you turned slowly and saw Mingi and Jongho. Mingi, with his imposing height and sharp gaze, looked at her with a mix of interest and politeness. Jongho stood beside him, his stance firm and self-assured.

“What now?” you grumbled, putting on her best irritated expression. “I’ve already answered enough questions from your friends.”

Mingi raised a hand, as if to calm her. “We know, we know. But maybe you’re the one who can actually help us.”

“I don’t know anything,” you said sharply. “And if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Jongho studied her carefully. “There’s no need to be defensive.” “We’re just trying to verify some rumors.”

“Rumors,” you repeated with a mocking laugh. “There are plenty of those in this village.” “Ever wonder if they’re just stories?”

Mingi smiled slightly, as if her frustration amused him. “Maybe. But stories often have a grain of truth, don’t they?”

“Not in this case,” you shot back. “So if you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

She turned and walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. That had been too close. But as she melted into the crowd, she couldn’t suppress a small smile. If these men thought they could unmask her, they were mistaken.

Night fell over the village, and the tavern buzzed with life. The air was thick with the scent of beer and woodsmoke as villagers exchanged boisterous tales and raised their glasses. Among them sat (y/n), tucked away in a dark corner, cloaked in shadows. Her sharp eyes tracked the eight men who had taken a table on the opposite side of the room.

Hongjoong sat at the head of the table, his elbows resting on the rough wood and his fingers interlocked. His gaze swept over his companions. “So,” he began, his voice calm but piercing, “what did you all learn today?”

Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. “Not much, honestly. Some people think the fox is a ghost. Others say it’s a man who only appears at night. There was even an old woman convinced it has an actual tail and fox ears.” He chuckled. “But no one seems to know anything concrete.”

San, sitting next to him, took a sip of his beer and shook his head slowly. “They either don’t know or they’re lying. But that girl at the market… she was sharp. Maybe too sharp.” He glanced at Wooyoung, who shrugged.

“She doesn’t know anything,” Wooyoung said breezily. “And if she does, she’s not about to just tell us.”

Mingi, his tall frame almost too large for the small chair he occupied, frowned. “Maybe we should start looking farther from the village tomorrow. If the fox really is a thief, it’s unlikely they’d stay right in the middle of town.”

Yeosang nodded thoughtfully. “Good point. But it seems like the villagers don’t entirely trust the fox either, so why would they hide her against us?”

Jongho, quiet and analytical, tapped his fingers against the rim of his glass. “Still, there’s something… odd. Everyone talks about it, but no one seems afraid. More like fascinated.”

“That makes it harder,” Hongjoong replied, leaning back in his chair. “Stories might hold a grain of truth, but you have to sift through the nonsense to find it.”

(y/n), still concealed in her corner, forced herself to keep her face neutral. Their discussions amused her but also made her uneasy. They clearly underestimated her, yet Hongjoong’s sharp insight posed a threat. Her fingers tapped the table lightly as she thought about her next move.

“As far as I’m concerned,” Yeosang said, setting down his glass, “it’s worth staying here a few more days. There are plenty of places in the village we haven’t searched yet. And if the fox is watching us, we might be able to lure them out of hiding.”

Hongjoong regarded Yeosang and nodded slowly. “Good idea. Tomorrow we’ll split up and comb through the rest of the village. It’s a game of patience, and I’m willing to wait.”

Meanwhile, Wooyoung had started on his second glass, his eyes scanning the tavern. “What if the fox doesn’t exist at all? What if this is just a bunch of village gossip?” His tone was lightly mocking, but it brought an uneasy silence to the table.

“Then,” Hongjoong said calmly, “we’ll have been mistaken. But until then, we keep looking.”

(y/n) felt her muscles relax slightly at his words. They weren’t close yet, but they couldn’t be underestimated. With a subtle motion, she rose, her dark cloak shielding her from curious gazes in the tavern. As she slipped toward the door, she allowed herself a small smile.

The game was of cat and mouse has begun.

Next chapter

[kathaelipwse]

You Can Take It, Right? | S.Mingi

MDNI 18+

Song recs: Friends by Chase Atlantic | Take you down by Chris Brown | Say my name by ateez | Red lights by Skz |

Warnings: Heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, mutual pining, teasing, best-friends-to-lovers energy, Mingi being a menace, mild language, hot & messy make-out session.

Trope: Best Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Friends Who Flirt Too Much, Slow Burn with a Payoff

WC: 781 words

Synopsis:

What starts as harmless teasing turns into something far more dangerous when Mingi decides he’s done playing around. Trapped between him and the couch, you’re forced to answer the question—will you push him away or pull him closer?

Author’s Note:

I had way too much fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy Mingi being an absolute menace with that dirty mouth of his. The tension? Thick. The teasing? Dangerous. And that payoff? Worth the wait. LMK if you want a part two! 😉

You should’ve known better than to challenge Song Mingi.

It started off the way it always did—banter, teasing, stolen glances that lasted too long to be friendly. You were used to pushing each other’s buttons, toeing the line but never quite stepping over it. Until tonight.

It was just the two of you, sprawled out on his couch after a movie, the soft glow of the screen flickering over his face. The teasing had started when he caught you staring.

"Like what you see?" he’d smirked, stretching his arms over his head, his hoodie riding up just enough to show a glimpse of his toned stomach.

You rolled your eyes, trying to act unaffected. "Please. You’re all talk."

That was the mistake.

Because the second those words left your mouth, Mingi shifted—his lazy smirk sharpening into something darker, something unreadable.

"All talk, huh?" His voice was lower now, dipping into that deep, husky register that made your stomach tighten.

Before you could react, he moved—one arm bracing against the back of the couch, the other pressing into the cushion beside your hip, caging you in effortlessly.

The air changed.

Mingi wasn’t smiling anymore. His eyes dragged over your face, slow and deliberate, lingering on the way your lips parted, your breath suddenly uneven.

"You can take it, right?" he murmured, and fuck. The way he said it—like a challenge, like a promise—sent a shiver straight through you.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. "Mingi—"

He hummed, dipping his head until his lips hovered just above your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, his voice a deep rasp that made your stomach flip.

"Look at you," he mused. "All quiet now. Wasn’t so cocky a second ago."

You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to squirm. "Shut up."

Mingi chuckled, the sound low and smug. "Make me."

Your breath caught.

He was still so close, his body heat sinking into you, his scent—clean, warm, Mingi—wrapping around you like a trap. But it wasn’t just his presence. It was his voice—the way he was dragging this out, letting his words settle over your skin, heavy and thick.

"If I touched you right now," he murmured, his lips just barely grazing your jaw, "would you push me away… or pull me closer?"

You should’ve pushed him away.

You should’ve.

But instead, your fingers twitched, itching to grab the front of his hoodie and pull. And Mingi saw. His smirk widened, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he let out a low chuckle.

"That’s what I thought."

Your patience snapped.

With one sharp tug, you fisted his hoodie and yanked him down.

Mingi barely had time to react before your lips crashed into his. And for a second, he froze—like he hadn’t actually expected you to cross the line first. But then he moved.

A groan rumbled from his chest as he kissed you back, deep and hungry, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. The shift sent you sprawling back onto the couch, Mingi following without hesitation, pressing you into the cushions as his weight settled over you.

His mouth was hot, his lips parting just enough for his tongue to brush against yours, slow and teasing. His fingers dug into your hips, keeping you pinned beneath him, his body pressing into yours like he needed to be closer.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, breathless. "You taste better than I imagined."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. "You imagined this?"

Mingi grinned against your mouth, his teeth grazing your lower lip before sucking it between his teeth, biting down just enough to make your breath hitch. "Baby, you have no idea."

The way he said it—low, rough, possessive—sent a full-body shiver through you.

And then he was everywhere. His lips trailed along your jaw, down the column of your neck, each kiss punctuated by a hushed whisper, a dirty little confession. "Been thinking about this for so long." A slow, open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone. "The way you look at me? Drives me insane." His teeth scraped against your skin, making your fingers tighten in his hair.

"Mingi—"

He groaned, his hands tightening around your hips as he rocked against you, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale. "Say my name like that again, and I swear I won’t stop at just kissing you."

Heat flooded through you.

But before you could respond, his phone buzzed on the coffee table.

The sudden noise snapped you both back to reality, your heaving breaths the only sound filling the room. Mingi didn’t move right away—his forehead still resting against yours, his fingers still gripping your hips like he was this close to saying screw it and going all the way.

You let out a shaky laugh. "Guess we got a little carried away."

Mingi groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. "Worst timing ever."

You nudged him playfully. "You gonna check that?"

"Absolutely not."

You giggled, finally pushing at his chest until he let you sit up. But when you looked at him, his dark, hooded eyes were still locked on you, his lips kiss-swollen, his breathing uneven.

"This isn’t over," he murmured, tilting your chin up with his fingers.

You swallowed hard. "No?"

His smirk returned, slow and dangerous. "Oh, baby… I’ve barely even started."

---

[k-hotchoisan]

active recovery

<yunho x fem!reader>

sore thighs suck after leg day. thank god Yunho is there to offer his help to ease the soreness 🤍

genre/warnings: pwp, smut, contributing to the big cock!yunho agenda, leg day aftermath (soreness), it starts from an attempted massage and… yeah, size kink, unprotected sex, overstimulation, mating press position, breeding, fingering

a/n: haven’t written Yunho in a hot minute + my attempt of distracting myself from my leg soreness from leg day 😒

wc: 1.8K / apply for taglist here 🤍

You wake up and you feel like lightning struck your legs, especially your inner thighs. You groan, feeling the soreness shoot up your muscles every time you move.

And to think you didn’t do enough squats the previous day. Your legs tremble slightly too even though you try to minimise any movement to the best of your ability.

Your hand combs through your messy bed in search of your phone. You find it and immediately scroll to your chats, tapping on the first one with Yunho’s name on it. 

[you]: I’m tapping out on gym today. My legs are fuckin toast. 

[yuyu🐶]: sounds like a skill issue. 

[yuyu🐶]: I’m joking please don’t block me. 

[yuyu🐶]: I’m coming over with food and some help ok?

You manage to muster the strength to leave your bed to wash up at least, forcing yourself to get used to the electricity running through your legs. 

The doorbell rings shortly and despite the jerks your legs were giving you on the way there, you manage to reach to the door to invite Yunho in, who has his hands busy with food like he promised. 

He sets up the table and he ensures you’ve eaten well before the both of you go to your bedroom to hear what he’s suggesting. 

“Which part of your leg is sore?” He asks, kneeling before you, giving your legs soft squeezes. You flinch and squeal when his fingers press against your thighs. Guess he’s got his answer. 

“Lie down for me. I’ll stretch you out”, Yunho instructs, and you do. 

Yunho starts with a slow massage, kneading against your sore muscles, ignoring your soft whimpers when his fingers press against a sore spot. It’s kind of working, but you still feel the sensitivity bursting through your nerves, and it makes you involuntarily twitch against Yunho’s touches. 

You groan when Yunho applies pressure on your thighs. He pushes your legs towards you, and he leans in. You try to ignore the suggestive position of Yunho’s crotch just pressing against yours while he’s stretching out your thigh, focusing on hoping to relieve any ounce of soreness at least.

Unfortunately, your soft groans aren’t helping with the situation. Try as Yunho might, ignoring you only seems to have your moans go straight to his dick. 

“Y/n, as much as I adore your voice, I’d appreciate it if you kept it to a minimum. It’s distracting.”

“I can’t help it if I’m this sensitive”, you pout, not realising you ticked something in him. “And also your reactions are cute with your ears all red like that.” 

Yunho narrows his eyes, ignoring your words , and instead focusing on trying to finish your massage. When he’s done with one side, he switches to the other, doing the same action of folding your legs against your chest, his thighs getting dangerously close to your pussy once more. Your thoughts are starting to float to a less pure space.

You know you shouldn’t be doing this. You and Yunho are just simply gym buddies—well, gym buddies who have some sort of funny tension going on recently. And now that he’s just this physically close to you—touching, pressing, stretching you, you can’t seem to get your mind out of the gutter.

It wasn’t until Yunho’s palm spread over your thighs once more, massaging against your thick flesh that you let out another sudden moan at the pressure, that Yunho seems to hit his limit. It’s enough that he’s holding back considering that his hands are getting dangerously close up further your thighs, the way he had himself pressed against you at a rather interesting position, but you, moaning at every touch he’s applying onto you? He can only hold back so much.

“Sorry Yun. It’s just… it feels so good when you do it like that.”

Then, Yunho has you under him, he towers over you on your bed. 

“They say active recovery is good for soreness. Lucky for you, I know a pretty good form of active recovery. Your thighs are gonna be doing a lot more stretching though.”

You swallow hard, wondering if you should take on what he’s trying to allude. Seems like you pressed a little too much of his buttons. Oops. Not that you wanted to complain though.

In the most twisted ways, you always wondered how Yunho would compare—his build wasn’t large, but he’s still big. His hands are big—and he makes carrying dumbbells look like toys. You always wondered where else would be big.

And now, you’re about to find out.

“Now, keep your legs open like this for me”, he instructs. Your bottoms are peeled off you in seconds, and you have your legs spread open. Yunho’s fingers pry your lips open to get his pretty fingers wet enough, then he trails down your wet cunt, circling your clit slowly.  

“You gotta relax for me, baby”, he coaxes you in a tone that’s sending you butterflies in your stomach. “If you can’t take my fingers, my cock is gonna snap in you, y’know?”

That’s all the warning he gives before his slender fingers plunge into your wet heat, and your brain completely melts at the feeling. 

“Good girl”, he comforts. His other hand is gently rubbing and massaging against your thigh once more, ramping up the sensitivity before he trails down to accompany his other hand, fully rubbing circles on your clit. 

Your back is arched from how much Yunho is pressing against your g-spot on top of stimulating your clit. It’s making your toes curl and your mind go blank. 

“Gonna cum Yun,” you mutter through heavy breaths. Yunho is kissing up your neck to your jaw before his lips are on yours, the movements of his fingers encouraging you to release all over them.

“Cum for me, baby. It’ll feel so good, I promise”,  Yunho whispers into your ear, snapping the knot in your stomach. 

He eats up your moans with his kisses, taking advantage of your mouth when your orgasm rakes through your whole body leaves your eyes rolled back and your mouth hanging open. 

Yunho’s cock is soaked and hard underneath his shorts—it’s throbbing and pushing against the fabric of his apparel. So when you’re getting off your high, he has his pants off quickly too. His cock is thick and heavy, covered in precum, looking like the perfect thing to fill you up with.

His wet cock rests on your equally wet cunt, and Yunho strokes himself against your drenched folds, making sure his tip brushes against your clit every time. 

“Yunho, please”, you mutter, your pussy fluttering against nothing, aching for Yunho to just fuck you. 

“Not too sore to take my dick right?” Yunho teases, his gaze darting between your desperate eyes and the way cream from your pussy is decorating his big cock. 

“I’m gonna be stretching you in more ways than one, babe. Be a good girl and take it for me, yeah?”, he smiles. 

For some strange reason, you don’t feel the soreness in your inner thighs, or maybe you’re just so horny that it’s not the soreness that’s your main concern now. 

You bite your lip, then your mind completely coming undone when you feel Yunho push his cockhead into your pussy, stretching your hole open as he accommodates his thick cock in you. 

“Fuck. Look at your tight pussy trying to fit all of me in. I should fill you in for size training after our next sessions. Extra stretching sessions shouldn’t be much of a problem, right baby?” 

Maybe you should take up on that offer. 

The thought of Yunho fitting his fat cock to stretch you open just so your tight pussy can mold to his cock size after your gym sessions sounded way too fucking tempting, especially in your current predicament. You’re imagining the way he would coax your pussy to take more inches of him, and the thought of doing it right after your training sessions—being pumped full of endorphins and just Yunho’s fat cock—your pussy is just dripping and taking more of his cock by the second. Way too fucking enticing.

“Mm. That’s it, baby. Fit me in like this, yeah?” Yunho sighs when his cock finally bottoms out in you, your walls hugging him like a glove. 

You gasp at the fullness. His cockhead is pressing against your g-spot but you feel it in your fucking throat, and any small twitches his cock is making in you is a contender to make you cum any second. 

Your fingers grab onto his tensed biceps to give yourself some leverage, and Yunho is kind enough to wait for you to adjust, or maybe because he feels like he’s about to cum any second from the way your pussy is just squeezing him. 

“Jeong Yunho”, you pant, trying to catch your breath. “You’re so fucking big. Fuck. Oh my fucking god, I feel so full.”

He chuckles, rubbing slow circles from your inner thighs and clit. “All the more we should train for that.”

Yunho and his fat cock are gonna be the death of you. You didn’t even need leg day to do it for you. 

“God, Yunho, just fuck me already.”

“Gladly.” 

Your head is thrown back the moment his cock pulls out of you and thrusts back into you. You’re not gonna survive this, you swear. 

The moans slipping out of you grow louder and more lewd, and Yunho is gradually losing the ability to hold back when he hears his name in your high-pitched symphony paired with the way your pussy is just creaming all over him. He watches the way his cock pushes a bulge whenever he slides into you and it’s taking him everything to not to just rearrange your guts.

The pressure soon wears off, only pleasure flooding through your veins when Yunho fucks the daylights out of you. And now you’re growing greedy. 

So is Yunho. 

“You’re driving me crazy, baby”, Yunho is growing breathless whenever he feels your cunt sucking him in. “Keep doing that and I’ll guarantee you’re not walking straight tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan, Yuyu. Then you can come over to take responsibility, right?”

Yunho groans. God he fucking loves it when you’re like this for him. 

So he responds by grabbing you by your thighs and lifting your hips slightly to make sure his cock fills you up all the way. His eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure, mouth slightly open as he listens to your voice climbing up in pitch at every thrust he gives you. 

“So good. Ah fuck. You’re so fucking thick”, you cry through your fucked out delirium. 

Yunho bites his lip, his thrusts growing more desperate and erratic with his cock just twitching for his release. 

He settles your legs down, only to fold them so that your knees are almost pressing against your chest, making sure you fucking see stars while his cock fills you up over and over in that position, hitting your g-spot so fucking easily. You’re choking on your moans at this point, your orgasm just being dangled over your head. 

“Fuck, right there! Gonna cum, Yunho. Oh god, that’s it”, you sob, your orgasm hitting you through shots of dopamine filling up your brain and flooding all over your cunt, pulsing against Yunho’s dick. 

Yunho has his eyes rolled back when you’re squeezing uncontrollably against him, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm, listening to your cries like it’s his favourite sound for the rest of the day. 

“Shit, I don’t think I could ever get enough of this pussy”, he mutters through pants. “So fucking perfect to cum in.”

Yunho squeezes your legs as he stills in you, making sure every drop of his thick cum is filling your pussy to the brim. 

He jerks slightly before pulling out, still holding your legs open for him to watch his cum seep out of your pussy and onto the towel below. You squeal when you feel his long fingers push his cum back into your pussy. Yunho is never telling you, but it’s his silent way of putting his mark on you. 

He soothes your thighs a little more even though he’s still finger fucking his cum back into you while kissing and biting the soft flesh of your thighs. ignoring your cries of overstimulation, before he closes your legs to lie them down. 

“See, this is a form of active recovery too”, Yunho says matter-of-factly, looking up at you with a pretty deceptive smile with his head on your lap. You narrow your eyes, grabbing him by his scalp. 

“I’m gonna blow your phone up tomorrow if I can’t feel my legs, Jeong Yunho.” 

Yunho continues to smile, his fingers easily removing yours from his head. 

“I guess that’s a yes to the extra training sessions then?” 

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie  @pre1ttyies @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess  @mylovelymito @softwsan  @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie

[evenyvn]

Is That Me?

Streamer!Yunho x Fem!reader

summary : in which yunho makes his in game avatar eerily similar to you and thought no one will notice.

cw : she/her reader, sfw, fluff, gaming streamer yunho, yunho is a tsundere, the reader got some sort of cute agression towards yunho, kisses, they are in love your honor🙏 very short.

this is inspired by this trend on tiktok where people makes their game avatar look like their girlfriend and i find it absolutely adorable

Masterlist

Yunho had been live for a couple of hours now, the streamer is deeply focused on customizing his character in a new RPG. He had spent an embarrassingly long time tweaking the facial features—adjusting the shape of the eyes, softening the lips, picking the right skin color. His chat had caught on quickly.

> “Yunho, that’s literally Y/N.”

> “Bro, you’re not even being subtle.”

> “Tell me why this character looks IDENTICAL to your girlfriend.”

> “Obsessed much?”

He scoffed at the comments, shaking his head. “Nah, nah, it’s just a coincidence,” he muttered, but his chat was relentless.

> “Sure, dude. You even picked her exact beauty mark.”

> “The denial is crazy LMAO.”

But Yunho paid no mind. He was too immersed in finalizing the outfit choices, his eyes locked on the screen, completely unaware of the soft creak of the front door opening behind him.

You had just gotten home from work, tired but excited to finally see your boyfriend. You walked through your shared apartment, following the familiar sound of your boyfriend voice on his gaming room, opening his door only to stop dead in your tracks when you caught sight of his screen.

your eyes widened.

Is that… you on his game?

Yunho was still too focused, humming to himself as he adjusted the character’s hairstyle.

You grinned mischievously before creeping up behind his chair. Without warning, you threw your arms around his neck from behind, pressing against him as you practically yelled in his ear, “IS THAT ME??”

Yunho jumped. His whole body stiffened, his hands jerking the mouse so hard that his character spun in circles on screen. His chat exploded.

> “SHE CAUGHT YOU LMAOOOO.”

> “BUSTED BUSTED BUSTED.”

> “OH, YOU’RE SO DONE.”

He turned his head slowly, wide-eyed, meeting your smug gaze. “Wh-What are you doing here?” he stammered, ignoring the way his ears turned pink.

“I live here, Yunho.” You giggled, squeezing him tighter. “Now tell me—” you pointed at the screen “—why does this character look EXACTLY like me?”

“I mean how are you home so early? and It’s just a coincidence.” He cleared his throat, trying to sound nonchalant.

You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest. “So you’re saying I look basic?”

Yunho’s hands shot up in defense. “No! No, that’s not what I meant—” While he's trying to think of an excuse, his chat was having the time of their lives.

> “AW HELL NAW HE FELL FOR THE TRAP.”

> “RIP Yunho 1999-2025.”

> “Just admit it, bro.”

Meanwhile, you leaned closer, pressing loud, exaggerated kisses all over his cheek and jawline. “Aww, you’re so cute~” you cooed between kisses. “You made me in your game and tried to act like you didn’t! That’s adorable!”

“Quit it!” Yunho whined, wiggling in his chair, but he wasn’t really resisting. His face was completely red now as he tried to hide a big grin on his face behind his hand.

You finally stopped, grinning ear to ear. “Admit it, baby,” teasingly tilting your head. “You remember my face so well you made my character without even looking at a picture, huh?”

Yunho pursed his lips, staying painfully silent, face still hidden behind his hand. His chat knew the truth.

> “He 100% did.”

> “Bro has her memorized at heart.”

> “Simp behavior and I respect it.”

After a moment, Yunho sighed in defeat. “...Maybe.”

“Maybe?” you gasped again, dramatically clutching your heart. “The bare minimum acknowledgment??”

Yunho rolled his eyes, finally relenting. He reached for your wrist and tugged you onto his lap. “Fine, fine. Yeah. I made her look like you on purpose. Happy?”

You beamed, wrapping your arms around his neck again. “Very~”

“Alright, but now you have to stay and stream with me,” Yunho said, acting as if he was the one making the demands.

You didn’t hesitate. “Deal.”

And so, for the rest of the stream, You sat comfortably on his lap, constantly pointing out every little detail he got right—down to the curve of your smile and the arch of your eyebrows—while Yunho pretended to focus on playing. His chat, however, wouldn't live this down.

> “Yunho’s whipped and we love to see it.”

> “Best stream ever.”

> “Y/N never shuts up about how cute he is and honestly? Same.”

Even though Yunho stayed quiet, his shy little smiles gave him away. And deep down, he didn’t mind—because, well… they weren’t wrong.

divider by @.adornedwithlight | likes, reblogs, and comments, are very appreciated ♡