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armpirate · 2 months ago

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The Vows Between Us || San

Part 2

pairing: San x fem!reader || Arranged marriage

w.c.: 13.6k

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

Aprox. time of reading: 40 / 50 minutes

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

MASTERLIST

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"With what power?"

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

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

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

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

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

Ten minutes late. Then fifteen.

You weren't there.

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

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

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

A hush fell over the crowd.

And there you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally, you whispered the words.

"...I do."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

San, however, was nothing if not persistent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He seemed so genuine, so caring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Goodnight, Y/n."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You forgot to bring clothes.

You let out a frustrated groan, rinsing the shampoo quickly before wrapping yourself in a towel. The last thing you wanted was to ask San for help, so you cracked the door open and peeked out.

He was still there, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, clearly waiting for your return like some smug predator.

Of course.

You squared your shoulders and stepped out, keeping your head high as you made your way toward the bag.

San's eyes found you immediately, sweeping over your damp hair and the towel wrapped tightly around you. He didn't even try to hide it.

"Forgot something?" his voice was low and teasing.

"Not a word," you warned, grabbing your clothes.

But before you could escape back to the bathroom, his hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His fingers were warm, firm, and far too steady for someone who was enjoying this way too much.

"Why bother going back?" he said softly, his voice dropping into that dangerously calm tone that always made your pulse race. "You're already here."

You tightened your grip on your towel. "Let me go, San."

His eyes darkened, his thumb brushing against your wrist in a slow, deliberate motion. "Why? What's the big deal? We're married now, remember?"

Your breath caught, but you forced your voice to stay steady. "I'm not afraid of you, if that's what you're thinking."

He leaned in just slightly, his lips curving into a smirk. "Then prove it. Get changed right here." His gaze dropped for a split second before meeting yours again, his voice barely a whisper. "Unless you're shy."

Your heart thundered in your chest, heat rushing to your face. "I'm not shy."

You weren't shy, but you didn't like the way your body was reacting to his voice, to his petition and his proximity. And you certainly didn't want him to see it so clearly either.

"Then go ahead," he said, his voice practically daring you.

You glared at him, yanking your wrist free. "Turn around."

"I'm not turning around" he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "What's the fun of it if I can't see you?"

He was trying to intimidate you, challenge you to do something he thought you wouldn't dare to do, so he could then tease you about it.

Two could play that game.

You placed the clothes on the bed, next to where he was. Taking one step back, your hands were placed on both edges of the towel, slowly undoing the knot to let it pool at your feet. San gulped thick at the sight, not expecting you to actually get naked in front of him, and even less that way, and it gave you a pinch of pride at how nervous he looked for a second.

You didn't need to do anything, just that stare and the sight of your body alone was enough to awaken the most primal needs. His body responded to you, even if it had been just a second he saw you. Your humid skin, the way some drops fell from your hair and rolled down the curve of your breast to get to your hardened nipple. His mouth was watering just with the need of tasting you.

San blinked, confused at the way your hand was stretched out for him, "The panties" you mentioned as if it were obvious.

His hand moved to his left, grabbing the fabric to hand it out to you. You put them on torturously slow, covering your lower half to snap your fingers and asking him for your bra. Placing the strips on your shoulders, you turned to him, your body fitting perfectly in between his semi-parted legs as you silently asked him to tie the clasp.

Shivers ran through your body at the contact of the reverse of his fingers on your skin, his touch holding on longer than necessary, just because he liked the way you felt as he touched you a little bit too much.

You didn't need to ask, because San moved to the next item the moment you stepped away.

He should've seen it coming for him when he saw you lifting your feet, placing it on his thigh -way too close to a place where he needed you like crazy. Your fingers moved calmly, sliding the tight over your leg, up the curve of your knee, moving it past your thigh. Yet San could only focus on how your warmth spread over his skin like wildfire, making him feel you were touching him in places you were not.

When you finally stepped back to put on the other side of the tight, and the rest of clothes, San felt like he could breathe again, his control coming back to him when he was able to think straight -which also happened when you were fully clothed again.

You thought he'd hesitate or act shy, but instead his cocky attitude came back as he stood up, the height difference becoming obvious again as he towered over you.

"See how it isn't that difficult to be a good girl?" he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

You'd have thrown a shoe at him if he hadn't hidden inside the bathroom immediately after airing out that response.

He was insufferable.

The car ride to San's house was quiet, tense, and far too long for your liking. The morning sun bathed the streets in gold, but it did nothing to lighten the atmosphere inside the vehicle. San sat beside you, one arm draped lazily across the back of the seat, his eyes occasionally drifting toward you as you stared resolutely out the window.

He had been surprisingly well-behaved since the towel incident, keeping his teasing remarks to a minimum -though his occasional glances were enough to keep you on edge.

When the car finally pulled up in front of his house, your eyes widened slightly. House was an understatement. It was a sprawling modern estate with sleek glass panels, sharp architectural lines, and an air of quiet luxury.

"Home sweet home," San said, stepping out of the car and holding the door open for you with a half-smirk.

You stepped out, clutching your overnight bag tightly. "Big enough so we won't have to see each other for a whole day"

"Thanks for noticing," he quipped. "Come on. I'll give you the grand tour."

You followed him up the steps, trying not to be too impressed as you took in the pristine interior-marble floors, minimalist décor, and massive windows that flooded the space with light.

"Kitchen's over there," San said, gesturing toward an open-concept area with gleaming countertops. "Dining room, living room... you know, standard rich-guy stuff."

"Right," you said dryly. "Because this is completely normal."

He glanced back at you with a grin. "You'll get used to it." the mockery on his tone, knowing damn too well you were used to all that luxury and more, shouldn't have been as funny as it seemed for you.

You rolled your eyes, walking a little faster to avoid his gaze. The tension from earlier was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but it was muted now, replaced by an odd sense of anticipation.

"Upstairs," San said, leading you to the second floor. You followed him down a hallway lined with modern artwork and huge windows, your footsteps echoing softly on the hardwood floors.

He stopped in front of a door near the end of the hallway and turned to you. "This is your room."

You blinked, caught off guard. "My... room?"

San nodded, his expression unreadable. "I figured you'd want your own space."

Your hand tightened around the strap of your bag. For a moment, you didn't know what to say. You had fully expected him to make some smug comment about sharing a bed -or worse, insist on it. But there he was, offering you something you hadn't dared to hope for: distance.

"Thanks," you said quietly, stepping into the room. It was beautiful -spacious, with a king-sized bed, soft cream-colored walls, and a large window that overlooked the shared garden of the building. There was even an en-suite bathroom with a walk-in shower and a deep soaking tub.

You indeed wouldn't need to get out there, except to eat.

"Your things are in the closet" he started. "You didn't bring a lot of things, so I guess you'll bring the rest later?"

"No, that's it" you whispered.

San stopped for a second, shocked about the fact that you only brought a medium suitcase and the bag you were carrying to pack up all of your things. It wasn't like he was expecting a full suitcase display from you, but certainly not something so minimal.

"I'll be down the hall if you need anything," San said, lingering in the doorway. His eyes softened, his earlier bravado fading just a little. "Seriously. Anything."

For a brief second, the air between you shifted. He wasn't teasing or smug. He just looked... sincere.

You hesitated, feeling the strange urge to say something more, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you gave him a small nod. "I'll be fine."

He smiled faintly, stepping back. "Alright. Settle in. I'll see you downstairs."

As he walked away, you closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly.

Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

But then again, with San, nothing ever stayed calm for long.

The first month of marriage was nothing short of a battlefield.

It didn't take long for every small interaction to turn into a heated argument. San always had something to say -sharp and sarcastic, ready to push your buttons at every opportunity. You were no better, meeting his smug remarks with icy glares and curt responses. It became a game, a war of words and wills, with neither of you willing to surrender.

There were good moments, but they were fleeting. It started with you finding out San filled up your closet with different clothes and accessories, adding up to the small suitcase you first brought. And it slowly evolved into a laugh shared over breakfast when San nearly burned his toast. A surprisingly comfortable evening spent watching a movie in silence, where the tension seemed to ease just a little. But those moments were always overshadowed by the endless tug-of-war that followed.

It was exhausting, that constant dance of hostility and fleeting truce.

Every day felt like a test of who could push the other further without breaking. The house, despite its size, felt stifling. His presence lingered in every room -a constant reminder that your marriage was nothing more than a cage disguised as luxury.

And today, you'd had enough.

The argument started in the kitchen that morning, over something as trivial as a set of misplaced car keys. It escalated far too quickly, voices rising, accusations flying.

"You always think you can control everything," you snapped, crossing your arms.

San leaned against the counter, his jaw tightening. "Control? I'm trying to help you, but you treat everything I say like it's some personal attack."

"Because it always is!" you threw up your hands in frustration. "You don't know how to back off, San! You just keep pushing and pushing... Fuck, you don't let me breathe!"

"Maybe because you keep running away instead of facing things!" his voice dropped, low and sharp. "You're so obsessed with shutting me out that you can't even see when someone's trying to meet you halfway."

You stared at him, chest heaving, words caught in your throat. For a second, neither of you moved. The silence felt heavier than the argument itself.

Then, without a word, you turned on your heel and stormed upstairs. You needed air, space, anything to escape that suffocating cycle.

In your room, you grabbed a coat and your purse, your hands trembling with frustration. Your eyes caught on your wedding ring, glinting in the sunlight. The sight of it only fueled the fire burning in your chest.

You slipped it off, the cool metal unfamiliar without the warmth of your skin beneath it. For a moment, you stared at the ring in your palm, your thoughts a chaotic swirl of emotions.

Then you set it on the dresser and walked out of the room, not bothering to look back.

San was still in the kitchen when you came back down, his back to you. You didn't say a word as you grabbed your keys from the counter and headed for the front door.

The sound of your footsteps must have caught his attention because he turned around, his eyes narrowing. "Where are you going?"

"Out," you said shortly, not slowing down.

"Without your ring?" his voice was calm, too calm. It sent a shiver down your spine.

You paused, hand on the door handle, refusing to turn around. "I need some time alone."

"And you think taking off your ring is the way to do that?" his footsteps echoed behind you, slow and deliberate. "Is this your idea of freedom?"

You finally turned to face him, meeting his eyes head-on. "What does it matter? It's not like this marriage is real anyway."

The words hung in the air, heavy and final.

For the first time in weeks, San didn't have a quick response. He just looked at you, his jaw clenched, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite place -hurt, maybe, or anger, or both.

"If you walk out that door without it," he said quietly, "don't expect me to come looking for you."

The threat was clear, but it only made your resolve stronger.

"Good," you said, voice steady. "That's exactly what I want."

And with that, you opened the door and stepped outside, the cool air hitting your face like a slap.

As you walked toward your car, your heart pounded in your chest. Part of you expected him to follow, to stop you. But when you glanced back, the door was already closed.

Maybe he didn't care enough to stop you after all. Although you wouldn't think too much about it. The more he ignored you, the more freedom you'd have.

The bar was harmonized with a low hum of conversation and soft music filling the air. You had no plan when you walked in -just an overwhelming need to be anywhere but at that house. You found a spot at the bar, ordering a drink and savoring the temporary escape it promised.

The alcohol warmed your throat and dulled the frustration swirling in your chest. One drink turned into two, and for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again.

"You look like you could use some company."

You glanced up to see a man standing beside you, his smile easy and confident. His eyes lingered on you just a little too long.

"Not really," you said, turning back to your drink.

"Come on, don't be like that," he said, leaning in closer. "It's just a conversation. You shouldn't be alone in a place like this."

"I'm fine," you insisted, but he didn't seem to get the hint.

The air shifted before you could say anything else, a new presence filling the space behind you.

"She's not alone."

You froze at the familiar voice, low and commanding. Turning slightly, you found yourself face-to-face with San. His dark eyes were locked on the man, his jaw tight, his entire body radiating quiet danger.

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "And who are you?"

San's lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. "Her husband."

The word hung in the air like a gunshot, silencing everything around you.

The man's eyes flicked between the two of you, suddenly less confident. "Right... well, my mistake." he backed away with a muttered apology, disappearing into the crowd.

Your heart was pounding, though you weren't sure if it was from the alcohol or the way San's eyes hadn't left you once.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, trying to sound unaffected.

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, his voice calm but laced with barely restrained frustration. "But I guess taking off your ring and disappearing without a word answers that for me."

"I needed space," you said, crossing your arms. "You don't own me, San."

His eyes darkened. "You're right. I don't. But I'm still your husband. If you disappear in the middle of the night, I'll come looking for you. And if some creep thinks he can hit on you, then I'm going to do something about it."

You rolled your eyes, the alcohol emboldening you. "So this is about your ego?"

He took a step closer, the tension crackling between you. "No. It's about the fact that I care, whether you want to believe it or not."

His words caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

"Let's go," he said, his tone softening just a fraction. "It's late."

"I'm not going anywhere," you said stubbornly, turning back toward the bar.

San let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Fine. You want to be difficult? Have it your way."

Before you could react, his arm looped around your waist, and in one swift motion, he threw you over his shoulder like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"San!" you gasped, pounding your fists against his back. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he muttered, already weaving his way through the crowd. Heads turned, curious eyes following the scene as you squirmed in his grip. "You brought this on yourself."

"San, I swear to God..."

"You can yell all you want," he said calmly. "We're leaving."

Once outside, the cool night air hit you like a slap, but it did little to cool the heat rising in your cheeks -from anger or embarrassment, you weren't sure. San carried you all the way to his car, finally setting you down beside it.

"You're insane," you snapped, your breath coming fast as you straightened your clothes.

"Maybe," he said, stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. "I thought you'd have learned to love it by now."

For a moment, you stood there, caught in a standoff.

"Get in the car," he said softly, but there was no mistaking the authority in his voice.

Your pride told you to refuse, to stand your ground and make this even more difficult. But something about the intensity in his eyes made you falter.

Wordlessly, you opened the car door and got in, your pulse still racing.

San slid into the driver's seat, starting the car without another word. The ride home was silent, the air between you charged with tension. You could feel his occasional glances, the way his hands tightened around the steering wheel every time your bare finger caught the light.

The ride home was silent. He didn't speak, and neither did you. But the weight of everything unsaid filled the car, pressing down on you both.

When you pulled up in front of the building, San finally broke the silence.

"I'm not going to pretend I know what you're thinking," he said, his voice low. "But if you want to leave, really leave, just say it. I'll let you go."

You turned to look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his eyes. It was the first time you'd seen him drop his guard like this.

But instead of answering, you opened the door and stepped out, your heart pounding in your chest.

San stayed in the car for a moment before following you inside. Neither of you said a word as you climbed the stairs, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

When you reached your room, you paused in the doorway, glancing back at him.

"Goodnight," you said softly, your voice barely audible.

For once, San didn't have a clever comeback. He just nodded, his eyes lingering on you a little longer than they should have.

"Goodnight," he echoed, his voice rough around the edges.

As you closed the door behind you, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you -something neither of you was ready to admit yet.

The tension between you and San had been palpable since that night. Every word, every glance, felt like a battle -a silent war that neither of you was willing to lose. And just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you found yourself trapped at one of his company's lavish parties, drowning in champagne and meaningless small talk.

It wasn't your kind of crowd. Polished executives and their equally polished partners swirled around you, exchanging pleasantries and hollow laughs. Being the accessory of the main character of the party wasn't your thing at all. You stood near the bar, sipping your drink, counting down the minutes until you could escape.

That's when you saw him, San, standing at the center of a group of people, commanding their attention with ease. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his hair perfectly styled, exuding the kind of confidence that made it impossible to look away.

And then you noticed her.

She was standing beside him, too close, her hand resting lightly on his arm as she laughed at something he said. A striking woman in a sleek red dress, her eyes sparkled with something far more than professional interest.

Your grip on your glass tightened as you watched her lean in, whispering something into his ear. To your horror, San didn't pull away. Instead, he turned toward her with a slow smile, his eyes dropping deliberately to her lips before meeting hers again.

It was a calculated move -one meant for your benefit. You knew it. He knew it.

Your stomach twisted, a mix of anger and something far more dangerous bubbling in your chest. But you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

You turned your back to him, willing yourself to focus on the conversation happening nearby. It was meaningless chatter, something about stock prices, but you latched onto it, pretending you didn't notice the way your pulse was racing.

"Jealous, love?"

The voice was low and teasing, right behind you. You didn't need to turn to know who it was.

"Hardly," you said, taking a sip of your drink without looking at him. "Do what you want. I couldn't care less."

"Is that so?" San stepped into your line of vision, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Because it looked like you were about two seconds away from throwing your drink at her."

"More like two seconds away from smacking this glass on your head" you finally sentenced.

"That does sound like someone who's jealous"

You forced a smile, meeting his gaze head-on. "Please. If I wanted to make a scene, you'd know it."

San chuckled, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper meant only for you. "Careful, Y/n. You might give me the wrong idea: that you actually care about me and what I do."

Your pulse jumped, but you refused to let him win. "Trust me, I don't." you narrowed your eyes while looking at him "Just be careful of how you behave in front of everyone. We're still married. In private, do whatever the fuck you please".

His smile was slow, almost predatory. "Good. Because I'd hate for you to get hurt playing a game you can't win."

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless and furious.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. You couldn't stop watching him: laughing, smiling, always with her by his side. Each glance felt like a deliberate push, a challenge to see how far you'd let him go.

By the time the party started winding down, you'd had enough. You grabbed your purse and made your way toward the exit, your steps quick and determined.

But before you could leave, a hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

"Running away again?" San's voice was calm, but his grip was firm.

"Let go," you said, your voice low and dangerous.

"Not until you admit it." His eyes locked onto yours, the amusement gone, replaced by something far more serious.

"Admit what?"

"That you care," he said simply.

You yanked your wrist free, your eyes burning with fury. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet, here you are," San said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Still standing in front of me". You didn't know when he stepped so close that your chests were pressed together and your breaths were mixing between you two "I'm only yours, love. You just need to ask me, and I'll declare to you my love without thinking twice".

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, the party noise a distant hum. You hated how close he was, how easily he could get under your skin.

But you refused to give him what he wanted. Not tonight.

Without another word, you turned and walked away, ignoring the way your heart was pounding in your chest.

The car ride back was suffocatingly quiet. The air between you felt like a loaded gun, ready to go off at the slightest provocation. San's hands rested on the steering wheel, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. You sat stiffly in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring out the window in stubborn silence.

The tires crunched on the gravel as the car came to a stop in front of the building. You didn't wait for him to say anything -didn't even glance his way as you pushed the door open and strode toward the front entrance.

But the sound of his footsteps trailing behind you, steady and deliberate, made your pulse quicken.

You barely made it inside when San's voice cut through the silence.

"Care to explain what that little stunt at the party was all about?" his tone was deceptively calm, but the underlying tension was unmistakable.

You spun around, glaring at him. "Are you seriously accusing me of something after what you pulled tonight? Flirting with her right in front of me?"

San smirked, stepping closer. "You noticed."

"Of course I noticed!" you snapped, your voice rising. "You made sure I would."

He shrugged, his eyes gleaming with something dangerous. "Maybe. But you didn't have to leave the party like that, running off again like you always do. It's getting old, Y/n."

"Maybe it's because I can't stand being around you," you shot back, your voice trembling slightly with the force of your anger. "Did you think of that?"

San tilted his head, studying you. "No," he said quietly, stepping even closer until there was barely any space between you. "I think you left because it bothered you. Because for once, you didn't have control, and it drove you crazy."

Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down. "You think too highly of yourself."

"Do I?" his voice was a whisper now, low and deliberate, each word wrapping around you like a challenge. "Then why are you shaking?"

You hated him for being right. Hated how easily he could strip away every layer of defense you had built.

"I'm not..."

"You are," he interrupted, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. "And it's not because you're angry. It's because you feel something."

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out.

His eyes dropped to your lips for the briefest moment before locking onto yours again. "Tell me I'm wrong, and I'll back off," he said softly. "Tell me you don't feel anything, and I'll stop."

You stared at him, your heart pounding so hard it was almost painful.

But you couldn't say it.

The words wouldn't come.

San's smile was slow and triumphant. "That's what I thought."

He turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, breathless and furious, your skin still burning from his touch.

"You're insufferable," you called after him, but your voice wavered, the heat of your frustration blending with something far more dangerous.

San stopped mid-step, his back still to you. For a split second, you thought he'd ignore you, that he'd let you stew in your own whirlwind of emotions.

But then he turned, slow and deliberate, his dark eyes locking onto yours like a predator sizing up its prey. His steps were measured, each one bringing him closer, the air between you thick with electricity.

"You know what's really insufferable?" his voice was low, almost a growl. "The way you keep running. The way you keep fighting me when we both know exactly how this will end."

Your breath caught in your throat as he came to a stop just inches from you, his body radiating warmth, his presence overwhelming.

"I'm not running," you said, though it sounded more like a whisper than the firm declaration you intended.

His hand reached out, fingers brushing against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him. His touch was light, almost teasing, but it sent a jolt of heat racing through you.

The space between you disappeared in a heartbeat. His lips crashed against yours, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis. The kiss was anything but gentle -wild, desperate, and filled with every bit of frustration and desire that had built up between you.

Your hands found their way to his chest, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing grounding you. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him, his grip possessive and unrelenting.

It felt better than anything neither of you could've ever imagined. It wasn't just a kiss -it was a battle, a collision of everything you didn't say, everything you'd tried to ignore.

His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before deepening the kiss. You gasped when he sank his tongue in your mouth, quickly meeting yours at the same time he cornered you on the wall next to the door, his hand gently cupping the back of your head before moving it back to your neck.

You hated him for making you feel this way, for always knowing how to push you to the edge and catch you before you fell.

But at that moment, you couldn't bring yourself to care.

When you finally pulled back, your breaths were ragged, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes searched yours, dark and unreadable, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

"Say it," San whispered, his voice rough and breathless. "Say you don't feel anything."

You stayed silent, your lips still tingling from his kiss.

But the way your hands lingered on his chest, the way your body leaned into his, spoke louder than any words ever could.

He took your silence as the perfect answer, smirking to himself before he linked your lips together again. His fingers sank in your hair at the back of your head, twirling them on some locks to pull from them and throw your head to the side as he kissed you down your neck.

"You're absolutely everything I've ever fucking dreamed of" he heavily whispered on your skin. "I want to admire you, worship your body and make love to you so you'd meet a devotion you had never seen in your life. But hell... when you look at me that way..." his thumb brushed over your cheekbone "I want to ruin you so bad, show you no one will fuck you so good to make your ears beep so loud you won't be hearing your own pleas when you ask me to stop".

Your kiss grew more passionate, your breaths coming in ragged gasps, when he kissed you again. His hands began to wander, tracing the curve of your back, the swell of your hips. You could feel the hardness of his body against yours, and it sent a thrill through you, craving for something you didn't know you were desperate for. You moaned softly into his mouth, pressing yourself against him, at the same time his hands held your hips to keep your body glued to him.

San broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck again, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. You arched my back, a soft sigh escaping your lips, when his fingers brushed against the little skin that was shown off through the cleavage of your dress. It frustrated you, but it also felt so good the way your body responded to his touch without a resistance, your nipples hardening against the fabric of your bra, your entrance clenching around nothing as you kept waiting to feel him inside you.

When he looked down at you once again, his hands moved down to the zip of your dress, his thumb brushing on your skin while his other fingers slid the material down. He didn't need to ask you, he didn't need to tell you, you helped him take off your dress.

His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching. You were definitely better than he could've ever imagined. No light pajamas would ever compare to the vision in front of him.

You reached for the hem of his black shirt, pulling from the buttons to reveal his toned chest. San had to hold back the growl in his throat when you ran your fingers over the muscles, feeling the heat of his skin, making him sure your fingerprints were burning every inch you were moving through.

He wasn't going to let you take control so easily though.

He lowered his head all of a sudden, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth through the lace of your bra. You gasped, your hands fisting in his hair as a way to control your own self. He teased and suckled, his other hand cupping your breast before he dragged his fingers down with the fabric, exposing the flesh, his thumb rubbing against your nipple before he pinched it with his index. You could feel the wetness pooling between your legs, your body aching for more.

San slipped the straps of your bra off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He took his time, exploring every inch of your body with his mouth and hands. He made you squirm beneath him, he filled your head with pleas you never thought would ever be aimed at him, your body was on fire for him.

You reached for his belt, unbuckling it slowly. He lifted his hips to help you, his jeans and boxers coming off in one swift motion. You looked down at him, your eyes widening at the sight of his hard length. He was thick and long, the tip glistening with pre-cum. You licked your lips when a sudden urge to taste him overwhelmed you. Was it how sexy he actually was? Or how bad you wanted him to beg for you and finally accept you were in control? Maybe both?

You leaned down on your knees, not wasting a moment before taking him into your mouth. He groaned, his hands tangling in your hair as your tongue swirled around him. You sucked and licked, your head bobbing up and down at a tortuous speed. You could feel him getting harder, his hips thrusting gently. You took him deeper when he pushed you lower, your nose brushing against his skin to look up to him.

And hell, if that image wasn't the best sight ever...

He pulled you up with one swift motion, your lips still parted to the size of his length when he crashed his lips against yours again. Your back slammed against the door, and your head banged against it the moment he pulled your panties down and slid two fingers in you. His thumb brushed over your clit gently, slowly, which was opposite to the way his curved digits moved and rubbed against your walls.

He earned another moan from you, and his cock twitched in the air against your body once more.

"Who do you belong to, Y/n? Who owns you now?" his voice was thick and raspy as he whispered. His voice was a mix of cockiness and need to prove you always belonged to him.

The moment you tried to move your head forward to rest on his shoulder, his fingers wrapped around your throat and stuck your head against the wood to keep your eyes fixed on him.

You didn't know what to do with your arms, how to keep yourself on your feet, but you did know you had to keep your eyes fixed on him.

"My love" he almost sang when he felt the way your walls clenched around him and your clit throbbing "I've only been yours" his digits squeezed your throat tighter, unaware of how that dragged you closer to your orgasm.

Your body squirmed and folded under his grip when that hurricane hit you, yet he didn't stop. His movements were more delicate and slower, but he fingered you through your orgasm until he felt your breathing settling again.

Your lips were parted when his wet fingers slid through them, and you blindly obeyed, closing your mouth around his digits to lick every drop of his work of art. San barely gave you time to let go of them before his lips crashed against yours again, his tongue looking out for yours to taste you directly on it.

You were so addictive.

San picked you up effortlessly, humming at your legs wrapping around his waist, as he made his way to his bedroom.

When he let you down on his mattress, he couldn't help but admire the way your naked skin stood out so clearly while lying over his sheets, dying to twirl his fingers on those locks spread over his pillow. You brought in him a feral attitude he didn't know was so strong.

You looked up to him, eager for what was to come, your body ready to jump as he kneeled on the bed and crawled to you. His hands parted your legs easily, resting your calves on his thighs when he redirected his length to you.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your clit, making your moan. "You're so wet," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "Will you let me fill you up? Hmm?" he looked up to you while still rubbing himself against you "Let me mark you now that you've finally accepted that you're mine".

His words, the idea, the look in his eyes... all of them influenced you to finally nod.

He slid into you slowly, his eyes locked on yours. You gasped, your body stretching to accommodate him. He felt big, bigger than you could've guessed when you took him in your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, until your hips met and you both moaned with relief.

You stayed like that for a few seconds, giving the two of you time to get used to each other before he began to move, his hips thrusting against yours. The sound of your bodies coming together filled the room, your moans and gasps echoing around you. You could feel every inch of him, the sensation overwhelming.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his forehead resting against yours. "So tight and wet." he rubbed his nose on yours. "It was really worth it to wait for you".

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back. "Harder," you whispered, your body aching for more.

He obliged, his thrusts becoming faster and deeper. The bed creaked beneath you, the sound of your bodies slapping together filling the room. You could feel your orgasm building, your body tensing in anticipation.

He reached between you, his fingers finding your clit at the same time his lips found your mouth. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, sending you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, your body convulsing around him as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

He continued to move, his own body tensing as he chased his own release. You felt him getting harder, his thrusts becoming more erratic. With a final thrust, he groaned, his body shaking as he came deep inside you, his load hitting a deep spot.

You lay there for a moment, your bodies slick with sweat, your breaths ragged. He rolled off you, pulling you into his arms. And as much as that feeling felt foreign, you didn't push it away. Instead, you snuggled closer to him.

The weeks after that night were nothing like the stormy start of your marriage. Slowly, without even realizing it, you began to lower your defenses. San softened in his own way, his sharp-edged words losing their sting, replaced by warm glances and lingering touches.

It wasn't love -at least, that's what you told yourself- but it was something dangerously close. You found comfort in his presence, in the late-night conversations you shared after you agreed on sharing bed with him, the stolen moments of laughter, and the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world when he looked at you.

The night he was officially named the head of the company, the entire building was alive with celebration. People congratulated him left and right, raising glasses in his honor, praising his charm, his brilliance, and his unstoppable rise to power. You stood by his side, smiling softly as he greeted his investors and thanked his board.

But despite the glamour, something felt off. San was different -detached, colder than usual, like the man you first met. He didn't seem to notice your growing unease.

Later that evening, after slipping away for a moment to get some air, you made your way down a quieter hallway in the building. As you rounded a corner, voices stopped you in your tracks.

It was San's.

"You're really settling into this husband role, huh?" the voice was familiar -Wooyoung’'s, you realized after a second.

His tone was light and teasing, but it was what came next that made your blood run cold.

San let out a low chuckle. "Don't get carried away. This marriage means nothing. It was a deal, plain and simple. I finally got what I wanted"

There was a pause, followed by the sound of a glass clinking.

"And the rest?" Wooyoung asked, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Sleeping with her?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering painfully in your chest.

"That's just part of the game," San said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Keeping her close keeps everything in control. She's predictable now. She's exactly where I need her."

Your vision blurred, your mind racing to process what you'd just heard. Every moment you'd spent with him, every touch, every whispered word in the dark -it had all been a lie. A calculated move in a game you didn't even know you were playing.

The sound of their laughter echoed down the hallway, cutting into you like a blade.

You turned and walked away before they could notice you, your steps quick and unsteady. Your chest ached, a painful mix of anger and heartbreak constricting your lungs.

By the time you reached the main hall, the noise of the party felt like a distant hum, your surroundings spinning as you tried to catch your breath.

You thought you had started to know him. You thought maybe, just maybe, there was something real between you.

But you were wrong.

You were nothing more than a pawn in his game -a game you never agreed to play.

The rest of the night at the party, you avoided him like the plague, your attitude a huge contrast to how you behaved when the night had started. Whenever San tried to approach you, you found an excuse to step away -chatting with guests, refreshing your drink, even pretending to admire the floral arrangements like they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"Y/n" his voice caught you off guard as you lingered near the exit, your hand brushing the stem of an untouched champagne flute. San's dark eyes studied you, his brow furrowed in concern. "What's going on? You've been distant all night."

"I'm just tired," you said flatly, forcing a tight smile. "It's been a long day."

His frown deepened, but he didn't press further. Not yet.

The ride home was quiet -tense in a way that made the air between you feel suffocating. San sat beside you, his eyes occasionally flicking toward you, as if waiting for you to explain what was wrong. But you kept your gaze fixed out the window, your thoughts swirling in chaos.

Once you were back home, you made a beeline for the stairs, wanting nothing more than to put distance between you as you closed yourself back in your room.

"Y/n" his voice was sharp now, demanding. You stopped halfway up the stairs, your hand gripping the banister tightly. "Talk to me. What's going on?"

You turned slowly, meeting his gaze. The man you had once started to trust, the one who had held you so tenderly just nights ago, now felt like a stranger.

"I want a divorce."

The words fell from your lips with a finality that hung heavy in the air.

San froze, his eyes widening for a split second before narrowing dangerously. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me," you said, your voice calm despite the storm raging inside you. "You finally got what you wanted. You're head of the company now. There's no need to keep up this farce anymore."

His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Is that what you think? That this was all just some business arrangement, and now it's over?"

"Isn't it?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You've gotten everything you wanted, San. There's no point in pretending anymore."

"You're unbelievable," he growled, stepping closer. "You want to throw everything away just like that? After everything we've been through?"

You laughed bitterly. "What exactly have we been through, San? Lies? Manipulation? This marriage was never real. It was just a means to an end for you."

His eyes darkened, his lips pressing into a thin line. "And what if it wasn't?"

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him sway you. "It doesn't matter. I'm done."

"You're not done," he said, his voice low and dangerously calm. "You don't get to decide that impulsively."

"It's not an impulse," you snapped. "This was part of our deal since the beginning. I've made up my mind."

San's eyes burned with fury, but beneath it, there was something else -something raw and unguarded. "And when exactly did you make up your mind about it, huh?" he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I think it's better for both of us," you said, ignoring the way your heart clenched at the look in his eyes.

But San wasn't having it. His hand gripped the banister beside you, his body blocking your path. "No," he said firmly. "We're not done. Not until I say we are. And you're not leaving," San said, his voice steady but barely restrained, his body now fully blocking your path. His gaze locked onto yours, fierce and unrelenting.

"Move, San," you said through gritted teeth, trying to push past him. "I'm done having this conversation."

His hand shot out, gripping your wrist -not hard, but firm enough to keep you from walking away. "No. We're going to finish this right here"

You glared at him, your pulse racing. "What's the point? You made it clear I was just a means to an end. Now that you're head of the company, what reason is there for us to stay married?"

"Because this isn't just about the company!" San snapped, his voice rising, frustration boiling over. His chest heaved with each breath, and for the first time, he looked genuinely unhinged, like he was losing control of everything he'd carefully built.

You yanked your wrist free, your eyes burning with unshed tears. "Then what is it about? What part of this marriage was real to you? Tell me!"

His silence was deafening. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching your face for something -anything. But no words came.

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. "Exactly. You can't even answer that."

San's eyes darkened, his frustration tipping into something dangerously possessive. "You really want to know what's real?" he said, stepping closer until there was barely an inch of space between you. "You." his voice was low, his eyes burning into yours. "Every damn second with you was real"

But for some reason, those words that night felt like the most painful stab at your chest. If there was something clear to you that night, it was that San never really cared for you, but his own control over you. That idea alone made your head spin, trying to decipher if all of his words in that moment were part of the act as well.

His proximity sent a jolt of heat through you, but you refused to back down. "Words mean nothing, San. Actions do."

"Then watch me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Before you could say another word, his lips crashed against yours in a kiss that stole your breath. It wasn't soft or sweet -it was raw and consuming, a war between his frustration and desire. His hand cupped the back of your neck, holding you in place as his lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin.

You tried to fight it, to remind yourself of everything you'd just overheard, but your body betrayed you. Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer even as your mind screamed at you to push him away.

His tongue swept across your bottom lip, coaxing a soft gasp from you, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. It felt like drowning, like falling too fast and too far, and you hated how easily he could unravel you.

When he finally pulled back, your hand slapped across his face, making it turn. He stayed in that position for a few seconds, until he finally moved his head back up, his eyes searching yours, dark and unreadable. "You think I don't care?" he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You're wrong."

Your heart thundered in your chest, and for a fleeting moment, you believed him. You believed every word, every touch. But the sting of his earlier betrayal still lingered, refusing to let go.

"I can't do this," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Not like this".

Not when you couldn’t trust him, or know what he was saying was real or not. Not knowing when he was playing with you or showing off his feelings.

It was too much.

San's grip on you tightened, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Yes, you can. You're not leaving."

"I don't want to be near you" you let go of his grip once again. "You disgust me. I can't even stand being near you right now. Who knows? Maybe it had always been like that and now that the reason that kept us together is gone I can be honest with the two of us. Be honest with yourself, too".

The next afternoon, sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows, casting a warm glow across the marble countertops. You sat at the kitchen island, quietly picking at your lunch, your mind still tangled in the events of the previous night. Sleep had been elusive -every word, every touch, every kiss replaying in your head on an endless loop.

You were lost in thought when the sound of the front door slamming snapped you back to reality. Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, growing louder until San appeared in the doorway, his expression dark and unreadable.

Without a word, he reached into his coat and pulled out a stack of papers. He strode over to you and threw them onto the counter in front of you, the crisp white pages fanning out across the surface.

Your heart stopped for a second as you glanced down at them: "Divorce Agreement". Signed.

"You wanted this, right?" San said, his voice cold and biting. "There. You've got it. Congratulations, you're free."

You looked up at him, stunned into silence, your fork frozen in mid-air. His eyes were like shards of ice, his usual warmth completely gone. He looked almost... victorious, but underneath it, you could sense something else, some of his vulnerability was still obvious in his eyes.

"San, I..."

"You don't need to say anything" he interrupted, his voice dangerously calm. "You made it clear last night that this marriage means nothing to you. So, I'm giving you what you want. No more pretending. No more games."

Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you struggled to find your voice. "You think this is what I want?" you finally said, your voice trembling.

"Isn't it?" he shot back, his eyes narrowing. "You were the one who asked for the divorce. I'm just making it easy for you."

You swallowed hard, your throat burning. "You're unbelievable."

San crossed his arms, leaning against the counter with a bitter smirk. "No, what's unbelievable is that you think you can just walk in and out of my life whenever you want. You're the one who pushed me away, Y/n. I'm just giving you the freedom you begged for."

"Don't you dare act like you're some kind of victim here," you snapped, rising to your feet. "You lied to me, acting like you cared, like you were into me. You said you were after me long before all of this happened... Bullshit! You used me for your business, just like you admitted to Wooyoung. But I was dumb as fuck to believe we were more than that".

His eyes flickered with something -surprise, perhaps, or regret- but it was gone in an instant, replaced by that same infuriating calm. "So, that's what this is about," he muttered. "You overhear one conversation, twist it in your head, and suddenly I'm the villain?"

"I didn't twist anything," you said, your voice shaking. "I heard exactly what you said. That I'm just a pawn in your game. That sleeping with me was just part of your plan. Hope you enjoyed the bit of control you had while you fucked me."

San laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. "You really think that's all you are to me?"

"Isn't it?" you challenged, your heart pounding so hard it hurt. "Tell me I'm wrong."

The silence that followed was deafening. His jaw clenched, his eyes searching yours for a long, agonizing moment. Then, slowly, he stepped back, his expression hardening.

"You already made up your mind," he said quietly. "So what's the point in convincing you otherwise?"

Your breath caught in your throat, tears stinging your eyes. You wanted to scream at him, to demand answers, to tear down the walls he had so carefully built around himself in less than a few days. But instead, all you could do was stand there, your heart breaking all over again.

"Fine," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "If that's how you want it."

He nodded once, his face devoid of emotion. "It's what you wanted, remember?"

Annoyed, you reached for a pen, signing up the papers next to him, slamming it against the table before getting up and walking away, leaving the papers on the counter in front of him. The sound of the front door slamming shut echoed through the house, and for the first time since the start of your marriage, you felt truly alone.

#armpirate #ff #smut #one shot #reader insert #san #choi san #san smut #ateez #choisanxreader #sanxreader #ateez smut #choi san smut #sanxreader scenarios #ateez scenarios #choi san scenarios #CEO!San #Arranged marriage #Arranged marriage au

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conscbgb · 2 months ago

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We all know very well that kpop industry/companies suck for a ton of reasons, we know that CEOs just look at their artists like money machine makers...but then we have this man...they call him "father" and even if KQ is not perfect it really gives the feeling that he cares about them on a human level too

The CEO himself taking photos of San on their private charter flight stalker's style 🤦‍♀️🤣

#ateez #kq ceo #kq entertainment #son mingi #jeong yunho #choi jongho #kim hongjoong #choi san #jung wooyoung #kang yeosang #park seonghwa

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1117feverlessdreams · 3 months ago

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W.C.P.P. 🎀 ⛓️‍💥- Episode 1

🐈‍⬛~🎀 SUMMARY: After seven long years, you’ve fired your assistant because of your differences. Your new hire, Wooyoung Jung wants nothing but the same as you do, and a lot more than you’d think.

🐈‍⬛~🎀 TAGS/WARNINGS: Cursing/Name-Calling, Mentions of Sex, Mention of Dom-Sub Play.

🐈‍⬛~🎀 WORD COUNT: 11.4K

🐈‍⬛~🎀 A/N: In the beginning, it’s important to pay attention to detail. You never know who/what may come later on. (ALSO WOOYOUNG CUTTING HIS HAIR THE DAY I RELEASED THIS, IM SICK.)

🐈‍⬛🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾 🐾

The sleek, modern office buzzed with activity as creative teams huddled around the latest MacBooks and smartboards.

Your intensifying aura strides throughout the space with piercing stiletto heels that click authoritatively on the polished marble floor.

Today starts with the sudden approach to Mark Lee’s desk, your assistant of seven years. He sat hunched over his computer, oblivious to your approach. You make yourself known as you obnoxiously clear your throat, springing him to spin around rapidly in his chair.

"Mark, a word in my office. Now." Your tone left no room for argument, demanding that the man should follow for his own good.

Your office decor reflects your fierce femininity- pretty and in pink, your favorite color. You held the door open for both of you to enter. As your back collides with the curtain-covered glass door inside, your eyes dart toward the side of Mark's head. The silence becomes entrapped with a soft click. Then you turn to cower him in once more, ensuring that your expression is stern.

“How do you think the meeting went earlier today?" Your voice was measured, betraying none of the frustration you’d felt during the presentation.

Mark shifted uncomfortably in his seat, avoiding your wandering gaze. "Um, I think it went alright."

A heated breath shrivels even the hairs in your nostrils, your eyes narrow slightly as you continue to press him. "Mark…honestly, as my assistant of seven years, I notice when my decisions may worry you. So, I'll ask you again,” you warn. “How do you think the meeting went earlier today?"

Mark sighed, his shoulders sagging as he finally met your gaze. "Look, Mrs. Hart, I just think...I think you should have signed that deal with GreenTech. The numbers were solid, and it would've given us a leg up on our competitors." Mark's tone bordered on insolence, his body language relaxed as if he thought he was merely offering a differing opinion.

“‘Quality over quantity’…it’s a phrase that is constantly undermined in the business world.” You chuckle lowly with an underlying menacing tone, determining that your footsteps are purposeful as you travel behind your wide office desk. “But for your sake Mr.Lee…let’s say we did sign that deal.” Mark's eyebrows raise with an attentive quirk, hoping to hear your change of heart.

“Skyrocketed to the top with our profits…”, you continue, “We’d probably make shit product too, but hey!- maybe with that money we’ll make GreenTech cover our tracks.” That’s not exactly what he hoped for, and yet he remains seated without choice but to listen. “Where’s the competition in that Mark?”

Mark, with his face flushed, leans forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone. "Mrs.Hart, you have to think about the offer without playing the moral high ground here. Business is about making profit, not about making friends, or producing some perfect, ethical product." He paused, his expression turning cunning.

Your eyes flashed with annoyance at Mark's presumptuousness. You lean in closer, and for his sake, you turn your voice low with the same level of intensity. "How do you think money is made in business, Mark? By cutting corners, sacrificing quality, leaving a trail of subpar products and obviously disgruntled customers in our wake?"

“That’s not the way I see it madam“, Mark grumbles. “There will always be the next best thing. That’s why there’s competition! Just think about it! With GreenTech in our market, we will always be the best.”

Like a thick block of ice, your face hardened to its core, and your expression remains cold. "It’s a shame that you could be so wrong, Mark. Competition is about offering a superior product, not buying our way to the top,” you say plainly. “I expected more from you…my assistant of seven years."

Mark's jaw tensed as the words he’s always wanted to say battle on his tongue. "Oh please, you've always been short-sighted Mrs.Hart. With the kind of money GreenTech is offering, we could bury our competitors! We'd set the standard, not just try to keep up with it!”

That was it, the last re‘Mark he could make, and then came dangerous consequences.

“Short-sighted?! Mark…” You address coldly, "I'm disappointed. You've bought into the very thing I've always tried to stand against." You walk over toward your high ceiling windows, a view of all surrounding industrial architecture.

“Perhaps you’re short-sighted one. Quite frankly…I couldn’t envision a capitalist in my company's success. I'll be revising your position within the company. Mark Lee…”, you say with a slight head turn, “you are dismissed.”

Mark's face contorted with anger and betrayal as your malicious words began to sink in. "You seriously can’t be considering firing me over this," he spat, his voice trembling with rage. "After everything I've done for this company, you're just going to toss me aside because I have a differing opinion?"

You turn your attention back to the distant outside view, seeing it as pointless to give him the time of day. “Business comes with compromise. Your “opinion” derives from GreenTech beliefs, and based upon this conversation, you’ve tossed yourself onto their side.”

Mark burst up, screeching his sitting chair across the polished flooring. "I'm not some change in GreenTech's pocket. I just believe in seizing opportunities when we see them! You're the one who's being stubborn and stuck in your ways, Mrs.Hart!”

With his challenging words, you had to look him in the eye. To see him cower. For him to fully feel you overpower. “There it is. You, and everyone in this company, that’s your real and raw opinion about me.” You turn slightly so he can see your pleased expression and provide him a round of applause, because speaking up surely had been a feat he’s been wanting to conquer for quite some time.

"You're unyielding, Mrs.Hart, and that's what's going to be your downfall. You can't keep dismissing ideas just because they don't align with your perfect little moral compass," Mark hissed, his face reddened with boiling anger.

“Dismissed.”, you quip with the click of your tongue. You remain unmoved, calmness frighteningly rooting from where you stand. “Allow your replacement to enter please.”

Mark ferocious gaze shuffles between you and what awaits behind the door. He storms to unlock it, his hand flinging dramatically backward as he opens the door to meet his maker.

The new guy's balled fist stalls in the air, his eyes darting between you who is dangerously content, and the infuriated Mark. He hesitates to enter, uncertainty written in bold all over his face. "I, uh, I assume I'm not interrupting anything important?" he asks cautiously.

“He’s been dismissed”, you carelessly announce. “You’ll take his place for the time being.”

You smile graciously, pleased with the divine timing. Wooyoung Jung was the perfect candidate. Charming with a perfect resume, and similar to you, as you do say so fabulously yourself, looks that could kill.

Mr Jung’s eyes widen slightly, but he quickly composes himself. "Oh, is that really it? I must admit, I didn't expect to be stepping into this role so soon," he says, walking further into the room. He casts one last glance at Mark before focusing on the person he came to impress.

Next thing you knew the door slams and Mark disappears, making your eyes squeeze shut, and Mr.Jung to tsk. You blink open your eyes upon hearing the noise of disapproval he made, making you all the more intrigued to turn around and meet such a character.

With finely cut long black hair, a small, yet intimidating face, and a respectful demeanor- you were considering him platonically attractive at the least. Perhaps it wouldn’t piss you off to see his face in office every weekday.

“I admire the decoration in your office madam. Pink adds a new touch to all things business.” He grins to you with glee with a lack of oppression on his nerves.

“Why…thank you.”, you mumble in surprise. “This is short notice,” you cut in, avoiding elongating pleasant greetings. “I apologize for the ongoing…drama. But if you would like to dismiss yourself, you could follow behind Mark there. The work environment is preferably... fast-paced.”

Mr.Jung clears his throat, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "No, no, it's quite alright. I'm flattered you've chosen me to fill this role. I assure you, I can keep pace with whatever this position requires." He extends his hand towards you.

You take his hand gesturing for him to sit across from you where your ex-employee took a stand. "Mark and I have... differing views on how the company should progress." You pause, eyeing Mr.Jung curiously. "I hope this won't be an issue for you.”

Mr.Jung tilts his head as he grins charmingly, his hands slipping into each other comfortably on his lap. “Just steer me in the direction you wanna go. No matter where, I’ll always be your right-hand man.”

You smile for the first time since Mark's presence disappeared from the space. “The expectations are high for you now Mr. Jung. I carry promises like those in the front of my mind.”

His smile widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I won't let you down, Mrs. Hart. I promise I'll prove myself worthy of your high expectations." He pauses, "And please, call me Wooyoung."

You turn in your chair, and grab a clipboard and pen, sliding it across the desk to him. “Well Wooyoung, I hope you are ready for your first-ever business meeting.”

…

During the meeting, Wooyoung listens intently to the presentations, asking insightful questions and offering thoughtful suggestions that clearly show he's not just knowledgeable, but also cares deeply about the company's success. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him, thoroughly impressed by his intuition and outspokenness.

"I understand that we're aiming for a quick turnaround on this project," Wooyoung interjects during a discussion on project timelines. "But I think we should allocate more resources to quality assurance. Rushing might lead to oversights that could cost us more time and money in the long run."

Then there was once a marketing director, presenting a campaign idea that you seemed hesitant about. "I think we should consider a more digital approach," He interjects once again, and confidently. "Millennials and Gen Z are our target audience. They're not flipping through magazines or watching TV ads like they used to."

“He's right,” you chime in, your eyes appreciative as they meet Wooyoung's who’s sat across from you. "Let's allocate our budget to influencer partnerships and social media ads. And let's discuss this further after the meeting, Wooyoung.”

…

“This may be the first time in ages a man has kept true to his word with me,” you say to him after the meeting, “you quite literally took the words from my mouth.”

Wooyoung grins, leaning against the edge of your desk. "Well, I try my best to read the room. And you wear your thoughts rather openly on your face, Mrs. Hart."

You find this amusing, considering reading the room is your unique skill. “I don’t hold back, or rather, I can’t afford to. It was relieving to step back from being the bitchy boss for a change.”

"Well, I'm glad I could help you take a step back," Wooyoung remarks, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "For what it's worth, I find your honesty refreshing. And I assure you, I can handle the 'bitchy boss'. I thrive under challenge."

You genuinely chuckle and extend your hand for him to take. “Welcome to The “Better Business Co.”

🐈‍⬛🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

As the days go by, Wooyoung's presence starts to have a noticeable effect on the office's mood. Colleagues who were once distant or quiet are now opened up and engaged in conversations. The atmosphere is lighter, with more laughter and genuine smiles. You aren’t ignorant of the changes, and it's not lost on Wooyoung either.

One day, as he's is chatting with some colleagues during lunch, you happened to pass by the table. You’re surprised to see him laughing freely with his coworkers, his natural charm and wit shining through. You pause in place, watching him for a moment before continuing on your way, a small smile playing on your lips.

Soon, you start to realize that Wooyoung's positive energy is infectious, and you find yourself feeling more relaxed and approachable. You start to initiate conversations with your team, asking about their weekends and hobbies.

The once-stuffy office is now filled with the sound of laughter and friendly banter. But business is still business of course.

As much as you worry to admit, you look forward to seeing Wooyoung's face in the morning. His warm smile and easy demeanor set the harmonious tone for the work day. You catch yourself humming along to the music playing in the background, something you never ever do. Even the usually grumpy IT guy can't help but crack a smile whenever he walks by.

As you and Wooyoung walk down the hallway together after another entertaining meeting, your colleagues greet you with daily smiles and waves. "Morning, Mrs. Hart! Mr. Jung!" someone calls out. He was so remarkably casual, a few high-five him as they see him pass by.

You can't help but notice how popular he's become. It made you ponder your work relationships at his side. Which made you realize, ‘relationships’ weren’t in your vocabulary.

You lean over towards him whispering, “You're like the office mascot. how does it feel to be so well loved?" Your eyes sparkle as you smile teasingly.

Wooyoung grins bashfully, running a hand through his flowing hair. "I guess I'm just a people person..but you know, it's not just me. You've lightened up too. The whole office feels like a different place now," he replies, his gaze warm as he smirks cheerfully at you.

It causes you to huff as you begrudgingly confess. “I suppose I have. But I’m never letting my guard down though when it comes to my business. I’m still tough like a clam.”

Wooyoung chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I wouldn't expect anything less from our 'bitchy boss'." He winks at you, his tone playful. "But even a tough clam needs to come out of its shell once in a while."

…

The office is transformed for the night, strings of fairy lights casting a warm glow over the space. Laughter fills the air as colleagues mingle, enjoy good food, and let loose.

Wooyoung, dressed in a sharp suit, is behind the makeshift bar, mixing drinks with a flourish.

You finish a conversation and look for your new partner in crime. You realize his natural mingling nature may never be cut short from serving drinks all night long, so instead, you walk over to him yourself.

“Hey Jung, have you ever had a drink yourself yet?” You fold your arms onto the counter as you approach it. “I bet you could use it before everyone else here. After me, of course.”

Wooyoung looks up from his bartending duties, flashing you a grateful smile. "You know me too well. I've been so caught up in making sure everyone else is having a good time, I haven't had a chance to enjoy anything myself." He reaches for a clean glass, preparing himself a drink.

You wait until he’s finished and raise your half-empty glass for a cheers. “To our partnership…and the grand endeavors we’ll be rewarded along the way.”

Wooyoung clinks his glass against yours, his eyes meeting yours over the rim. "To partnerships, and proving that business and fun can be compatible." He takes a sip, his gaze never leaving your face. "You did an amazing job with this party by the way."

“Oh dear”, you snicker, “if it weren’t for you, a party would be the last thing on my checklist. We did an amazing job.”

He shakes his head, a warm smile spreading across his face. "Don't sell yourself short, Mrs.Hart. You're the one who decided to reward the team. I just helped you execute your vision." He leans over the counter with a playful wink, going over the remainder of his drink into his mouth.

Your face becomes flushed, flicking your wrist in distraction to swig your glass, only to spot it empty.

What's worse is that in truth, you had become a bit tipsy.

"Besides," Wooyoung continues, misinterpreting your flustered expression to be unphased, "it's not every day I get to work alongside such a... power boss." He winks playfully, grabbing a bottle behind the bar to refill your glass.

“A power boss?” You murmur. That’s a new one, but it’s the best name by far. Looks like I finally found someone to put up with my bitchiness.” You lift up your glass in celebration, slaying your arms over the stool in victory.

Woo laughs heartily, clinking his glass against yours once more. "And I love every minute of it." He takes a sip, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

"You know…”, he trails off, “some people might say we make a pretty great team, both in and out of the boardroom."

“Yeah?” You murmur, blowing out a harsh breath. Mostly due to the burning alcohol in your stomach. “Who said that?”

A mischievous grin appears on Wooyoung's face as he leans in closer. I might have overheard a couple of our colleagues discussing earlier. They were saying how well we complement each other, and..." He pauses for dramatic effect, “how our dynamic is almost...romantic?” He raises an eyebrow with an unveiling expression, gauging your reaction.

The office has been buzzing with such rumors for weeks. What goes around comes around to you like clockwork. But the folks in the office have been careful not to address either of you directly. "But we'd make a terrible couple, right?"

You freeze in disbelief before drunkenly waving off such a claim. “Damn right. We’re both too stubborn. We’d be unstoppable then.”

Wooyoung chuckles, taking another sip of his drink. A rather large one in comparison to the lasts. "Exactly..besides, I couldn't handle being bossed around 24/7." "Though I must admit, there are some perks to the idea." His gaze flickers to your lips briefly before meeting your eyes again.

“Oh yeah? Well, lemme hear 'em.” You suddenly become confident with the liquid courage, and he is no help, he continues what he initiated with the liquor flowing like blood in his system.

Wooyoung leans in closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Well, for one, your... assertiveness would be quite... stimulating in other situations." He smirks, watching your reaction closely.

The sudden change of mood makes you spit out a little laughter and nearly fall out of your seat- to which Wooyoung catches you, but almost falls over himself.

You lean in and whisper childishly with a hand hovering over the sides of your face. “Do you mean like…

“Sex?”

A brief widening of Wooyoung's eyes occurs, followed by a soft laugh, his face flushed. "Eh, erm, yeah...that's one of many perks that came to mind."

You giggle in amusement, wiggling a teasing finger at how heated he became at his own jest. Just as your moving close to his chisled cheek, with his eyes allured on your dazed face, you lose balance from out of your seat.

Wooyoung helps steady your waving form, his hands are gentle, and firm. "Ah...see? You're drunk sweetheart. "I'm not sure that's an appropriate topic for the office party anyway."

You groan in annoyance and set down your glass. You lean forward again, trying to maintain contact with his deep eyes as your eyes blink out of sync. “What happens to putting the fun in business”, you whine. “Your a little…party pooper. I wanna go home.” Your head wanes back and forth, then tumbling down to smack the countertop.

Wooyoung sighs, rubbing his temples. He looks around the party, which has started to wind down, and he decides then, it's probably for the best. "Alright, alright. Let's get you home." He carefully moves around the bar to pick you up, cradling you in his arms.

You continue on, whining and complaining about wanting to go to bed with your arm thrown around his neck-pulling him down in the slightest. “Hey you…party pooper…tuck me in already”, you burp.”

He trudges you successfully out of the office, ignoring your complaints. Once you're both in his car, he carefully buckles you into the passenger seat before getting in behind the wheel. As he drives, he can't help but glance over from time to time. It was extremely rare to have ever seen you like this.

Wooyoung pulls a quick hand off the wheel and sends a voice text to your HR representative, asking them to wrap things up and make sure everyone gets home safely. He then focuses back on the road, determined to get you home without any more eventful detours. "There, all taken care of," he says, more to himself than to anyone else.

A sudden road bump pangs your head into the door, and you moan painfully, waving a measly finger at your subordinate.“Hey, don’t drink and drive!”

Wooyoung can't help but adore at your drunken concern. "Don't worry, I'm perfectly sober. I only had the drinks we shared. You, on the other hand..." He glances at her, shaking his head fondly. "What am I going to do with you, madam?"

You frown with etched brown, drunkenly trying to think long and hard about what you should do. It makes your headache worsen even more and you simply give up. “Arghhh, I dunno…”

A warmth spread through his chest at your petulant expression. He pulls up to your apartment building and parks the car. "Come on, let's get you inside." He reaches across to unbuckle your seatbelt, sliding his hands around your waist to help you out of the car carefully.

You don’t know what happened in between but you have already made it to the elevator “Eight, room 816,” you whisper. The door closes as you both elevate to the eighth floor. You lean on Wooyoung when you stumble, his hold is automatic, and he finds it so amusing. “You’re so warm.” You drunkenly express, “like my blanket.”

Wooyoung chuckles softly as he supports your weight, his hands resting comfortably on your hips. "I'm glad I can be your human blanket." He guides you out of the elevator when you arrive at the floor with a ding and down the hall to your door. "Now, where are your keys, sleepyhead?"

“I won’t tell you that they’re in my purse.” You whisper, and quite literally waving a finger ‘no’.

He sighs and carefully sets you down on the floor, kneeling in front of you to dig vigorously through your deep designer purse. "You're making this much harder than it needs to be madam," he mutters, finally finding the keys.

“Sorry.” You sheepishly mutter.

“I forgive you.” Wooyoung unlocks the door and pulls you inside, guiding you to the place you've wanted to be all night long, the bedroom.

He sits you down softly on the edge of the bed and kneels in front of you, gently removing your feet from your gruesome hot pink heels.

"There, that's better, Wooyoung proclaims. “Now, let's get you under the covers before you pass out on top of them."

In a way, you make things a small bit easier, smiling and pulling your body in the sheets with him like a lazy rag doll. “Ahhh…home sweet home.”

Wooyoung tucks you into bed, pulling the blankets up to your chin as if you were his child. A strand of hair is brushed out of your face by him in another sign of parental affection. "Sleep well. You’re going to need it.”

He pulls back as you nuzzle in warmth, speculating a small glance of discomfort in your features. At first, he hesitates, but then he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the harsh kiss between your eyebrows.

Wooyoung lingers for a moment, his lips still against your forehead, before gently pulling away. To his surprise the crease melts flat, ceasing in appearance.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself as he watches over your form. "Mrs.Hart," he whispers softly, "We need to talk."

Without speaking any further, he leaves your apartment shortly after. He didn’t expect a response of course, nor for you to remember these moments in the next morning. It was more so of a practice run, a severe need to ease relief from the front of his mind.

The drive home is spent lost in thought, the gold city lights blurred outside his windows. Once he arrived home, he stripped down to his boxers and fekk into bed.

But sleep is harder than most nights, and it’s all your fault.

…

The next morning, Wooyoung strides into the office with a purpose. He's dressed sharp, his mind focused solely on business. At first glance, you would have never thought anything worrying was crushing on his nerves.

He greets his employees with a polite nod, and his face derives from anything non-neutral. As he settles behind his desk, he pulls out a folder containing the day's agenda.

You, on the other hand, are hungover. Someone looked after you this morning-setting out your clothes and saving you lots of time and embarrassment in the process- because you were started to settle on PJs.

All alone in your office, you suffer in silence from your headache, drinking both tea and coffee to wake you up and liven your mood.

Wooyoung walks in happily as he does every working morning, noticing your slow movements and frequent face-palms from his office. He suppresses a smile, instead walking over to your office with two ibuprofen tablets and a bottle of water. "Here," he says, setting them down neatly on your desk. "For your head."

You greatly take them as soon as they’re placed in front of you, swallowing one dry as you down the water to prepare for another. “Wooyoung…thank you for this, and for getting me home safely. From this headache, I can imagine I was a hot mess.” You pull your hands to smooth the sides of your head, moaning as the pain subsides.

He leans against the nearest wall with his arms crossed. "You were," he says bluntly, a small smirk playing on his lips. "But I took care of you, and that’s what I'm here for." His gaze intensifies, holding amusingly onto yours.

You hiss from looking up toward the ceiling lights. “Yeah but last night might’ve been a little extreme, and it won’t happen. Anyway, what’s on today’s agenda?”

He pulls out a folder from under his arm and walks over to set it down on your desk. "Today, we're finalizing the contract for the new club downtown."

“Good”, you scan over the contents inside the folder with a breath of relief. “Nothing that over-exerts the energy that I don’t have. Today should be easy.”

Wooyoung straightens up, his smirk deepening. "Just leave the heavy lifting to me, my hungover delicate flower. I'll make sure everything runs smoothly."

You chuckle at his typical teasing. It was never too much. Just unpredictable, but effective. “I’ll treat you to dinner after work. It’s the least I could do for my non-professional-like behavior.

Wooyoung's eyes glint with excitement. "Deal," he replies. "But tonight, I choose the restaurant. And…," he adds, shifting aimlessly on his heel, "you're not driving. I'll pick you up."

Without a beat, you throw your hands up beside your head without banter. “You don’t hear any complaints from me!”

He grins at you wolfishly, clearly pleased. "Good. Because I have the perfect place in mind”, he says cheekily. “Now, let's get to work, Madam Hart. We've got a contract to finalize." He winks at you and saunters out of your office, whistling an original tune.

…

As the day progresses, Wooyoung does indeed take the lead, handling the more demanding tasks with ease. In admiration you watch him, impressed by his imitation of your assertiveness and confident demeanor.

As the discoursed work day came to its end, the business still stood on all fours thanks to Better Business Company’s Mr. Jung.

True to his word, Wooyoung arrives at your apartment later that evening. He's dressed for a casual outing, his long hair tucked back into a ponytail with two neatly placed front strands. He rings the doorbell, a bouquet tucked under one arm.

Your company comes as expected as you lie idly on your couch. You walk to answer the door, looking more refreshed and rejuvenated than earlier today in a pink slip-dress. "Hey…you look nice."

"You look… well-rested," Wooyoung amends, smiling. "For you Madam. They’re pink!"

The large bouquet of petunias came out in surprise. You would’ve seen them sooner if you weren’t processing your focus in his face before it could make its way down to the rest of his body. “Oh…Wooyoung I- what are these for? I’m already in your debt. I don’t need you to buy me flowers.”

"Nonsense," he replies, pushing the bouquet firmly into your arms. "Consider it a peace offering. For last night, and for being such a trooper today despite your hangover." He grins mischievously.

You turn foot into your apartment as you roll your eyes. “Well let me just set these in my vase, and we can get going to this mystery spot.”

Wooyoung nods, watching as you bustle around and make picky remarks about the secret place he selected. He notices little details - a book on the coffee table, a photograph on the wall, a stack of unopened mail. He files these away in his mental library, eager to learn more about you outside of his paycheck. "Ready?" he asks once you return, his hand waits for yours to hold.

“More than I’ll ever be.” You take his hand as the tips of your fingers brush over his palm. But once you’ve made it outside your door, you pull it out of his subtle grip.

Wooyoung snickers under his breath, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Don't worry, it's not a surprise skydiving session." He places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you out of the building and down to his car.

“That would be such a dick move after a hangover,” you scoff as you approach the door.

"Mmm, note to self: no extreme activities post-Mrs.Hart’s bender." he chuckles, moving around to open the passenger door for you.

On the drive there it’s no different. Wooyoung fills the silence with baited banter, making you fall for it so gullibly, despite your usual self.

The car arrived at a nondescript building. Wooyoung leads you up a flight of stairs to a rooftop patio. String lights twinkle overhead, and the air is filled with the sizzle of cooking and the low murmur of conversation. He guides you to a small table in a quiet corner.

You nod approvingly at your new surroundings, smiling warmly at Wooyoung who has been watching your reaction with glee. “Fresh air, check. Warm high-calorie food, check. Nice company….check. This may be the ideal hangover spot. Well played Mr. Jung.”

Wooyoung grins, taking his seat after pulling out yours. "I have my moments."

He picks up his menu, scanning it for a few seconds before setting it down without a second glance. Rather he looks across the table at your downturned eyes. "Now, let's see... what do you hungover crave? Greasy food? Carbs? Something spicy to clear out those sinuses?"

“Mmm…”, you hum, dazzling over the menu while scooching playfully on your seat. “I’ll have a mix of all the above.”

"Excellent choice," Woo says, approvingly. He flags down a waitress, placing an order for two of their special, ‘Hangover Helpers'.

While waiting for your orders, you decide to pick up on less frivolous conversations. “Did I do anything odd that made you uncomfortable while I was drunk? I swear I can’t remember a darn thing besides going to bed.”

Wooyoung leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "No, nothing too out of the ordinary," he says, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Just the usual drunken musings and some...affectionate gestures."

You squeeze your eyes shut and clench your teeth in frustration. “Dammit! That is one of the things I didn’t want to hear! Did it make you uncomfortable?”

His smirk widens into a full-blown grin. “You drunkenly telling me I'm ‘so dreamy' and trying to hug me was adorable. It didn’t make me uncomfortable in the least, I just wish I had recorded it."

“Okay…”, you start with a genuine laugh, “I don’t even have to be sober to know I, in fact, did not say-“

"Oh, yes you did," Wooyoung insists, his eyes dancing with amusement. "And you also informed me that my hair is 'like satin'. Your words, not mine." He leans forward, resting his chin on his hand.

“You truly amuse me”, you bitterly scoff.

"Oh, but you did," he continued, leaning forward. "And then you proceeded to pat my cheeks and declare that, ‘I had such a sweet face'. You were quite taken with my face actually."

Your eyes lower in a deadpan expression. You reach forward to grab a menu, fanning it in your face. “I have a feeling that I was more infatuated with my bed than anything.”

"Ah,” he concedes with a chuckle, “but the bed was a close second. "You did have a rather passionate reunion with your pillow when I finally got you into bed." He shakes his head, still grinning. "I swear…your drunk self is a riot."

You huff quietly with a small smile that dissipates in seconds. “I’ve only heard that a couple of times with Mark…he’d just let me lay on top of the bedding- and forget about setting my clothes out for tomorrow. He said I was so impossible to deal with, he couldn’t even take off my shoes.”

Wooyoung's expression softens, his humor fading for a moment. "Well, I managed," he says quietly. "It wasn't so bad. Though I will admit, you were a lot more childish than usual.”

Your eyes snap up from his use of words- your turn the menu down in disbelief. “What! Oh gosh… I don’t think I wanna know what happens next.”

"Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad," he groans, his grin returning. Before he could further explain the waitress serves your platters.

Wooyoung dives into his food with enthusiasm, occasionally stealing glances at you teasingly as you prepare to eat. He watches as you take a big first bite, your eyes fluttering closed briefly in satisfaction. "Good?"

Your eyes feast on the rest of your meal rather than the man who invited you out to dinner. “Breakfast never tasted so good.”

"I'm glad," Wooyoung mumbles, his mouth full of food. He swallows and takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. "Though I have to say, you seemed to enjoy your pillow just as much last night. Quite the dramatic reunion with it."

“Okay, let it go!” You chew with a small laugh, and there was more where that came from for the rest of your dinner.

…

Wooyoung mimics your every giggle to your apartment, leaning against the closed door. "Well, at least this time you're sober." His grin is quick and charming. "Mostly."

You hold back a smile and push him away from the door, fumbling while grabbing your keys that fell to the bottom of your purse- giving Wooyoung major deja vu vibes from last night. “Well I promise you won’t have to cuddle me in bed this time- and set out my outfits.”

When you finally found your key, you held it up like a bar of gold, quickly inserting it through the lock and entering the apartment.

You turn to Wooyoung, but the intensity in the air fills with an odd lingering desire to stay in each other's company. The night was still young, and the office was closed for the weekend...

“Would you like to come in?”

His gaze follows into the apartment, his eyes lingering on you as you turn your back to him, walking towards the hall to your bedroom. If he said no, you’d have to awkwardly walk back to the door, and slam it quickly to just blame it on you still being hungover the next day.

The intensity in the air is palpable, the unspoken desire to prolong this moment hangs heavily. Wooyoung steps inside, closing the door behind him. "Just for a minute."

You approach the bedroom door, opening it up just a bit with a small creak. “I’m just going to change back into my PJs. Make yourself comfortable if you’d like.”

Wooyoung watches as you disappear down the hall. He doesn’t understand why his shoulders drop from tension as you leave the room. He lets out a slow breath, trying to rein in his thoughts.

He walks over to the gray velvet sofa with pink pillow decor, sits down, and runs a hand over to the back of his head to remove his hair tie- dislodging a few strands from its careful styling.

Moments after you come back out in your pink (of course) satin pajamas- making yourself comfortable on the couch with glasses of water for the both of you.

Wooyoung's eyes follow you as you re-enter, his gaze lingering in satisfaction in the way the satin clings to your curves. He takes the glass of water you offer, your fingers brushing briefly. "Thanks," he murmurs, taking a sip to distract himself from the sudden dryness in his throat.

His change of demeanor doesn’t go unnoticed by you, part of being a good CEO is reading the bodily behavior of your colleagues. “You sure that’s all that went last night Mr. Jung? I feel like you might be disassociating with some kind of- PTSD.”

His smirk revives at your teasing tone, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Very funny," he drawls, setting his glass down on the coffee table with a deliberate clink. "I'm just thinking, that’s all."

You weigh your leg into a cushion, settling your back into a pillow in the corner. “A glass of water for your thoughts?”

Wooyoung's expression suddenly turns serious, his gaze intent as he peers over at you for a few heartbeats. "Just...about how different this is from last night," he says slowly. "And how much...I don't want it to end."

A tapping sound clinks on your glass from your fingernails as silence reigns after his confession. “I respect you for being so open about that, I know that wasn’t the easiest thing. Which is why…I too feel the same way.”

His eyebrows melts and his pout lies flat as relief etches into his features. "Good," he breathes. Leaning forward, he sets his glass down. The movement brings him closer to you, and the space between you both shrinks in distance.

“Oh, come on.” You whine, the sudden moments of silence were becoming exasperated. “When the spotlights on you, you want to shrivel up in the dark and be nonchalant? What’s bothering you Wooyoung?”

His chest tightens at your words, his heart pounding in his ears. He looks into your eyes, seeing the warmth and understanding there, and it's like a dam starts breaking inside him. "I'm scared," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

Sensing the seriousness that arises, you sigh in guilt, setting your water down as you gesture toward your chest for Wooyoung to lie upon. “I won’t push it.”

He hesitates for just a moment before slowly leaning forward, resting his head on satin-clad chest. Your warmth envelops him, your laundry wash filling his nostrils. He exhales shakily, his arms coming up to wrap around smoothly around your waist. "I'm scared of messing this up."

Your face scrunches up in confusion. If anything, everything he’s done so far is miles away from a fuck up. “You don’t need to worry. The business thrives with you in it. If anything I’ll slip up before you do.”

Wooyoung lets out a huff of laughter at your comforting words, his arms tightening around you as he exhales another snapping breath. "That's not what I meant," he says quietly. His fingers trace irregular patterns on your back through the satin. "I'm scared of scaring you off. Of wanting too much."

You scoff, shaking your head with worry and whispering, “I’m sure whatever you have planned for the company will be in its best interest. You cook up great innovations Wooyoung. I trust you most.”

His breath regulates at your revelation, a warmth spreading through his chest that has nothing to do with body heat. He tilts his head to look up at you, his eyes shining marvelously with emotion. "You trust me?" he asks softly, almost desperately.

“I never thought I’d see the day I say it to any man…but yes!” You chuckled. “I trust you, Wooyoung Jung.”

His face breaks into a wide, heartfelt smile. "Good," he murmurs, before leaning up to lay back on his elbows. When he pulls away, he props his head on the top of the sofa, his voice is barely a whisper. "Because I trust you with me, Mrs.Hart."

A hand you had casually been held up where his head lied poked him on the forehead. “That’s what makes us so compatible, partner.”

‘Partner’, he thinks, the word resonating to the deep thoughts within him.

…

In the following week at the office, you and Wooyoung have fallen into an upbeat rhythm. You spent hours debating over contracts, brainstorming new evolutionary ideas, and sharing laughter over late-night work sessions. One evening, as you’re wrapping up, Wooyoung leans back in his chair, rubbing his drowsy eyes.

You shut off your desktop, holding the power button until you see pitch black. “This week catching up to you too huh?”

Wooyoung nods, a rueful smile on his face. "You could say that. I feel like I've been running on caffeine and adrenaline." He stands up and stretches, his shirt riding up to expose a sliver of his toned stomach. "What do you say we call it a night?

Your jaw tenses as you take an accidental peak at his abdomen, you grab a pen and scribble on a sticky note- alleviating your focus elsewhere. “I’m up for it. Tomorrow is our day off, and we’re caught up for the next couple of months if things go to plan.”

"Mhm, and things will go to plan," he bursts out confidently, rounding his desk to where you scribble your thoughts on paper. He comes up behind you, and your doodles come to a slow. It wasn’t until you felt massages to your shoulders that the tension melted under his fingers.

You moan softly, tilting your neck for Wooyoung to access those sore spots your massage gun touches every hard work day.

His grin widens at your quiet moan, his thumbs working the knots out of your pointed shoulders. "Mmhmm, just like that," you murmur approvingly. As he works, he leans down, his breath fanning over your ear. "Have I told you how much I appreciate you lately?”, he devilishly whispers.

"Not nearly enough," you jokingly reply, your voice low.

Wooyoung huffs, continuing to massage your shoulders, his touch easing as he feels you relax under his ministrations. “You're the backbone of this company, Mrs.Hart. And not just the company...me too. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Your eyes snap open, you grab onto the hands Wooyoung held over your shoulders in a still. “You know that goes both ways.”

Both of his hands smooth over your back blades as he backs away to turn your chair around, dropping to his knees before you. His hands take claim off you this time, thumping in your lap. "Yes, it does," he agrees softly, his eyes focused on yours in a deep search.

The office is quiet around you, the only sound is the soft hum of the computers on standby. There was something about him at this moment that made it hard to swallow. To move, to just breathe. He just looked so striking under the one ceiling light that illuminated the room.

“Okay…”, you sufferingly clear your throat, “let’s get a move on. If you keep doing that time will be pouring into tomorrow.”

Wooyoung nods as his head casts downward with a wicked grin, reluctantly releasing onto your hands. He arises first, helping you to your feet. "Alright, alright. Let's go," he groans, walking with you towards the elevator. As you both step inside, he hits the button for the ground floor, leaning against the wall behind you.

You mindlessly look at the secured sliding doors, dreaming about the freedom outside of it, wondering what your day off would entail.

The elevator begins to descend, the soft hum filling the silence between them. Wooyoung watches your blurred expression through the reflective steel walls of the elevator. He places his hands tentatively on your shoulders once again. "A massage for your thoughts?" he mimics from last week's hang out.

Your eyes shutter as soon as you feel rhe contact of his warmth. “I’m just waiting for tomorrow. Mentally, I’m already there.”

Wooyoung chuckles, pulling off once again to stand by your side as the floor gets closer for departure, bumping your hip with his own. "Me too. It's going to be a good day," he comments, his tone filled with promise. The elevator dings, as the doors slide open. He places a hand on the small of your back, guiding you out into the lobby.

You both walk out to your cars which are now parked next to each other- because it just makes sense with how often you work together.

As you both approach the cars you push start on your keys, and you both arrive at your drivers' doors simultaneously. "And Mrs.Hart?" You look up to meet Wooyoung, who is already eyeing you. "Drive safe, okay? Text me when you get home?"

You giggle as you chew nibbles on your lips. “You know I’m no good at that. I’ll probably be blowing boogers in my sheets by the time I get home.”

Wooyoung pulls open his door with a chuckle, shaking his head. "Fair point. Just ask your Alexa, she’ll do all the work.” He opens his door, sliding into the driver's seat before leaning over to roll down the passenger window. "Goodnight, Mrs.Hart."

You slide into your car, mimicking his action before waving at him with a small smile. “Goodnight Wooyoung, drive safe.”

He waits until your car pulls out of the parking lot before putting his car in gear. He watches your taillights until they disappear around the corner, a contented smile on his face as he starts the drive home.

…

Wooyoung wakes up to the sound of birds chirping outside his window. He stretches flexibly, the blankets roll away from his bare chest. He stands up to freely pull off his boxers, padding naked to the bathroom.

After completing his morning routine, he wraps a towel around his waist and heads downstairs.

He eats his eggs and rice slowly, his mind drifting to the possibilities of your whereabouts. He thinks about your strength, your confidence, your unyielding feminist nature.

He thinks about kneeling before you, about your hands gripping his hair, about your voice ordering him to... He shakes his head, trying to dispel the thoughts.

He hears a distant ping from his coffee machine and walks back into the kitchen to pour himself a mug, adding plentiful spoonfuls of sugar before taking a seat at the table. As he sips his coffee, his mind wanders back to you.

He remembers how you handled a difficult client last week. How you stood tall, your eyes blazing with anger as you dressed the man down. He remembers the way your voice dropped to that low, commanding tone when you were displeased. He swallows hard, his body reacting dangerously to the memory.

He takes a shuddering breath, his towel tenting obscenely in his lap. He knows he shouldn't be thinking about his boss this way. It's inappropriate and unprofessional. But he can't help it. The thought of her dominating him, controlling him completely, sets his blood on fire.

Coincidentally, he receives a text later that day as he's lounging on his bed, flipping through the channels on his TV.

You: I know it's our day off but could you come over?

You: I need some brawn over here.

Wooyoung: No worries.

Wooyoung: I haven’t moved from my bed since I ate breakfast this morning. Coming over.”

In no time flat, he quickly gets dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie before making his way over giddily to your apartment. When he arrives, he knocks and hears a voice yelling from inside. “Come on in!”

He walks into you trying to carry a box into your room. Your face is flushed with red, and strands of hair fall out piece by piece out of your bun. "I swear, if I break a nail..." you muttered under your breath.

Like a track star he quickly strides over, wrapping his arms around the other side of the box. "You can let go, I’ll take care of it," he says, easily lifting it out of your hands. He carries it into your bedroom, placing it on the floor beside your bare mattress. "What is all this stuff woman?"

You follow him inside, sighing at all the packages you have yet to unbox. “It’s all for my queen-size four-poster bed. I should’ve let those guys charge me to build it.”

Wooyoung's eyes widen as he processes the implications. A queen size bed with four posters...perfect for-

tying someone up?

He swallows hard, stressing to keep his composure. "That's... that's a really nice bed," he manages to say, his voice slightly strained.

“Yeah…I figured it looked nice with a canopy,” you remark, “it’ll make this space less boring I guess.”

Wooyoung nods, his eyes darting to the bedposts. He imagines being bound to them, helpless, at mercy. The thought makes his heart race. He turns away, busying himself with disassembling the box. "What all do you need help with again?"

You turn to him awkwardly with an embarrassed grin. “I think I need you for the whole build… if you have the time?”

He starts to talk but he hesitates, struggling to blindside his racing mind. Being alone with you for an extended period, in your personal space... It's dangerous territory, given his feelings. But he can't say no, not when you’re looking at him with the eyes of a vixen. "Of course," he hears himself say.

“Really!” You gawk in excitement, hugging him only briefly. “Ugh, where have you been since I moved into this place!”

“I don’t know…when did you move in?” He childishly muttered.

You roll your eyes, playfully smacking his chest which he rubs onto delicately after with a pout. “I’ll help you, of course, and you’ll be out of here in no time!”

As you begin to skim over the directions, oblivious to his inner turmoil, Wooyoung takes a deep breath, stilling himself. "Alright, let's do this."

…

The next few hours are spent reading a complex manual the team deciphers with experiments- and oftentimes- chatting breaks that could’ve been replaced with work being done.

As the two of you build, your dynamic of ‘partners’ begins to shift. You laugh together at each other’s frustrations, your shoulders brush as you lean over the instructions. Wooyoung finds himself relaxing, his earlier anxiety replaced by a comfortable camaraderie.

Until...

"Okay, now we need to attach this to the post."

You stand above the mattress to hold each piece in place while Wooyoung reaches around to the front of you to secure it with the provided hardware.

Again, experimentation is the most convenient strategy- well… more to one party than the other. As your bodies press close, his chest connects to your back. His breath catches at the contact. He fumbles with the screwdriver, his hands suddenly become clumsy and the nail unscrews itself from the hole. "Shit… sorry.”, he whispers.

“Don’t fret”, you gleam, “just screw it in a bit more.” You assist him as you tip your head back against his shoulder, giving him better access to properly screw into the hole. "Here, like this," you say. Wooyoung swallows hard, his throat crumbled dry. He can feel your breath, warmth brushing against his neck. He pushes to focus on the task at hand, trying to ignore the distraction you unknowingly present.

He's hyper-aware of every inch of your body against his. He finally gets the screw tightened, then pulls back abruptly, as it doesn’t screw in any tighter. "There”, he breathed out in relief.

You squeal in excitement, jumping down from your bed. “Holy shit…we’re finally done, and it looks exactly like the picture on the box!”

Wooyoung nods, climbing down and trying to regain his composure. The bed stands proudly in the center of the room, its canopy draped along the edges so sinfully. "It looks great," he manages to say, his voice a bit hoarse.

An adrenaline rush pulses through your core as you jump to lightly bounce on the mattress, zooming to every corner.

Wooyoung laughs weakly, running a hand through his hair. "Hey get down, don’t erase our hard work!" he says teasingly. You walk down to the foot of the bed where he stood, towering over him in an effortless and poweress stance, poking out your tongue with a silly expression.

He avoids looking at you after you bounce away, afraid his feelings might be written all over his face. "Well, I suppose your zoomies mean that my work is done. I should probably go.”

His discern punches guilt into your chest. His energy couldn’t equate to match yours right now, and it’s all because he took on the weight of putting the pieces together. “Wooyoung wait!”

He turns hesitantly in the door frame, watching as you hop down from the newly built bed. "Thank you…for today. I couldn't have done it without you." You bite your lower lip, dithering to say…"Stay for dinner?"

It's a recipe for disaster. But he can't bring himself to say no.

Wooyoung's heart skips a beat at the invitation. He wants to stay, and he wants to spend more time with you. But he knows it's a bad idea, and that he needs to set boundaries for himself. He opens his mouth to decline, but the words stick in his throat. "Okay," he hears himself say instead.

“Great! And then you’ll be on your way home, I promise!”

Wooyoung forces a smile, nodding in agreement. He follows you to the kitchen, his mind racing. He knows he's playing with fire, but he can't seem to help himself. As you start pulling ingredients out of the fridge, he offers to help, hoping the distraction will keep his feelings at bay.

He watches as you bustle around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients, and humming under your breath. Every now and again you’ll point to a spot in the kitchen for an ingredient and he’ll fetch it for you like a puppy.

And boy did his tail wag at every command.

…

“Okay, that’s enough now” you direct in a monotone voice. “Just give it to me Wooyoung.”

He looks up from the cutting board, his eyes meeting yours. You’re leaning against the counter, your arms crossed over your chest. Your gaze is intense, and your expression is unreadable. "What?", he asks voice barely above a whisper.

“The veggies!”, you vigorously point, “you’re gonna cut them too small!”

"Oh," he says, his voice coming out choked. He quickly moves the cutting board out of his reach, his hands shaking slightly.

You push off from the counter and move closer to him, your movements careful and deliberate. "Here, let me," you say in your more homely voice.

He steps aside, his heart pounding in his chest. He watches as you finish chopping the vegetables, your hands sure and steady.

As you work, Wooyoung can't help but stare at you. The way your hair cascades near your back, the curve of your waist, the strength in your arms. He's so caught up in admiring you that he doesn't realize you're finished until you turn back in his direction. "There”, you whisper with a satisfactory smile, "dinner should be ready in another ten minutes.”

"Great," his voice sounding strained even to his ears. He clears his throat from the itchiness, "Is there anything else I can do to help?" He's desperate for a distraction, anything to keep his mind off the way his body is reacting to your proximity.

“No, you’ve done enough. If it makes you feel better I can just give you a bite to go.” You turn to him as you mix around the ingredients from sticking at the bottom of the pot. Slightly worried about his oddly anxious nature.

"I'm sorry, I'm just..." Wooyoung trails off, unsure how to finish. He's just what? In love with you? Desperately attracted to you? Terrified that you might notice the way he's been looking at you?

You sigh, slowly walking up to him and touching his shoulder. “You're overthinking too much, and you’re probably pushing your body beyond what it can bear Wooyoung. Lay on the couch for a bit, I’ll bring dinner to you.”

In coerced agreement, he nods, relief washing over him at your touch. He lets out a shaky breath, feeling like he's teetering on the edge of a precipice. He turns and walks to the couch, sitting down heavily. As he lays back, he closes his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart. “Get your shit together man,” he whispers amongst himself.

You enter the living room minutes later, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of your homemade chicken and vegetable stir fry, a side of steamed jasmine rice, and a glass of water. You set it down on the coffee table in front of Wooyoung.

“You wanna sit up so you can properly put some fuel in your body?” Wooyoung sits up, his eyes fixed on you. The way you lean over to put the tray down causes your blouse to gap slightly, offering him a tantalizing hint of cleavage. He swallows hard, trying to dislodge the lump in his throat.

As Wooyoung starts to lean backward, you plump the throw pillows behind him, your fingers brushing against his shoulder. He stiffens at your touch, and you notice his reaction, your eyes flicking up to meet his.

The contact lingers for a moment, with your faces close. Wooyoung can smell your perfume, something light and floral that makes him want to bury his face in your neck. You blink, breaking the spell, and step back. "Eat up before it gets cold," you mutter in a slightly breathy voice.

He feels both unnerved and invigorated by you’s directness. It’s as if you stripped away some of the layers of polite distance that usually exist between you two, leaving him feeling raw and exposed.

You join him in eating and cars rev as they pass by now and again in the silence. You chew softly and grow more annoyed with Wooyoung's continuous acts of behavior. You thought the food would cheer him up but by the way he’s still scooching on the opposite ends of your couch- you know something’s up.

"You're being awfully quiet," you acknowledge, tearing the silence. "And you keep scooching away from me, so, let’s talk." you take a sip of your wine, your eyes narrowing as you study him.

He shifts uncomfortably, tugging at his hood collar as if it's suddenly too tight. "I, uh, I'm just not used to you being so... nurturing, I guess. It's throwing me off."

You laugh loudly, shaking your head in surprise. "Wow, not even a little bit subtle, huh?", you set your wine glass down and turn to face him fully. “Did I ruin your plans for today? I will grant you a free vacation day from work. I mean we’re already caught up with the progress we’re making.”

Wooyoung's shoulders relax, and he lets out a small laugh. "No, seriously, don’t bother. It's just... different. Unexpected. You're usually so... focused on work. Seeing you like this, taking care of me, it's...nice." He pauses, then adds quietly, "...a little scary." your eyebrows shoot up, a flicker of hurt crossing your face before you disclose your expression.

"Scary? Because I'm being nice to you?" your voice is carefully neutral, but there's an undercurrent of confusion and slight offense.

“I don’t know it feels…motherly?”

You throw your head back and laugh, a rich, throaty sound that fills the room. "Oh my goodness, Wooyoung. I'm 29, not 60. I think I can take care of you without having to be Mrs. Weilderman from next door."

Your laughter eases the tension, and Wooyoung feels his body unwinding. "Alright, alright, not motherly. Just... different. And I like it," he says, giving you a small smile. He takes a deep breath and continues, “Maybe even more than I should." He pauses, looking down at his hands as he wrings them in his lap. "I think I might be um..."

“A mommas' boy?” you joke, tapping the shell of your elbow into his slender shoulders, causing him to rock right.

“I am my momma's boy,” he admits, “and I love her to death, so you can’t shame me.”

“Awwww how cute~ I don’t think I’ve seen you become such a sap. Looks like we’re both seeing different sides of another tonight.”

Wooyoung encircles his small face frame that holds a big package of handsomeness. “No shame.” You giggle, swiveling your wine before tossing back the remaining liquid.“But, there’s this other thing. I can’t find the word for it, but it’s like this feeling of me just… naturally wanting to do anything for you. It never feels forced on the job.”

“Awe, well aren’t you perfect for employee of the month.” You sigh contentedly and ponder his heartfelt confessions. “Okay…” you nod, “let’s try, devoted? Indebted? Grateful?”

Hiss eyes flick over your face, he tilts his head like a lost puppy, shaking his head when the words just didn’t hit a ring in him. “No? Naturally, doing anything…for me? Without feeling forced…

“Submissive?” you whisper, looking down in shock from the slip before you look back up at him.

Wooyoung's head snaps up, his eyes wide with shock and a hint of fear. "How did you...?"

“Oh…”

He swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "I mean it’s only natural! As your..subordinate."

You grin mischievously, your eyes gleaming with amusement. "I mean it is a bit of a shock, but we can talk about it.” you lean forward, poking him playfully in the chest. He reaches up to rub over the area, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment. “You were a bit like this the other night. I think you said something about scaring me off?”

Wooyoung chuckles nervously, looking back at you. “I guess I just... I just wanted you to see me as more than just your subordinate. And I guess this is me ruining my chances.”

“I guess that sort of depends on what you want then. You smooth a hand over his shoulders, trying to mimic the calming massages he gives you under stress. “We work pretty closely to where things are just natural between us now, it wouldn’t necessarily be ruined.”

Your words send a thrill through Wooyoung, and he bites his lip, his heart racing. "What do you mean?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He looks up at you, his eyes searching yours for any hint of what you might be thinking.

“Well… whatever it is that you're beating the bush around.”

Wooyoung's words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken desire. He looks up at you, his eyes pleading, and his heart pounds like a bongo in his chest. “I want to serve you outside of the office, provide you relief from a shitty work day, and more beyond than just a back massage.”

“Tell me the about the- ‘and more’ ” You inch closer with dimly lit slender eyes and coax Wooyoung's shaky hands with your hot pink sharp stiletto nails.

He shudders as you's nails trace over his skin, his resolve weakening. "I... I want to worship every inch of you," he breathes, his voice trembling with barely contained desire. "To use all of me for your pleasure in ways you've never experienced before. I’d kiss the ground before you.”

You lean in completely and abruptly stop at his trembling dolly pink lips. “How about you shut the hell up, and kiss me now?

The sudden change in your demeanor sparks immediate action from Wooyoung. He leans in, burrowing his fingertips directly onto your scalp, pressing his hot lips to yours. The kiss starts chaste before growing more passionate.

As you pull apart, his eyes dilate at your lips as he whispers, "That's what I've wanted to do to you every time you've snapped at someone in a meeting.”

You chuckle, leaning upward to press your thumb over his wet lips. “That would’ve been a real power move hm? It would’ve given those uppity dipshits more of me to talk about.”

Wooyoung's heart races as he looks at you, taking in your amused expression. "Yeah, it would have gave them more to focus on than their egos." he agrees, his voice still breathless from their kiss. "But I think I'd prefer it if you saved all that fire for me. Just me." He reaches out to gently stroke your cheek.

“You like seeing me upset?”

“I thrive on it every day I come into the office.”

“You’ve never given me a reason to be upset...”

“That’s because all I want to do is please you."

He glances down at your collarbone slipped from your disheveled top, tracing it in memorization. “Your smile is always rewarding to me, especially when it’s directed to only me.”

Your eyes flick up to his while your hands become curious about his body. “So, this word for you…submissive.” You twiddle with the strings of his hood, pulling it as it scrunches around his venous- covered neck. "In what other ways did you want to explore that outside of the workplace again?”

“Well.. just as you would in the office…you make the rules Mrs.Hart.” He grabs onto your hand, conversing almost completely with his own.

Your expression softens briefly at Wooyoung's touch, but then your gaze hardens as you consider his words. You pull back slightly, your hesitation palpable. "That would be... complicated," you murmur, your voice laced with uncertainty. "My reputation, the company... if word got out..."

Wooyoung watches you stand and smooth out your clothes, your movements precise and calculated- disrupting the easy flow. He feels a flicker of confusion, wondering if he's misread the situation entirely. He sits in contemplation, his mind racing with possibilities, trying to understand what's going through your mind.

He swallows hard, his expression serious as he listens to your concerns. "I understand," he says softly, his hand dropping from her cheek to your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "And I don't want to put either of us in that situation."

Although his words were assuring, his anxiety betrays him, He decides to approach you cautiously, not wanting to ruin the progress you both made. He stands up and walks over to you, his movements slow and deliberate. He reaches out and gently takes your hand, entwining his fingers with yours.

You breathe out softly and look upon your hand with his in-fitting connection. But then you let it go again. “I might’ve initiated things too quickly, and it isn’t your fault. I like you Wooyoung…maybe too much." You walk over toward the door, holding the handle as an indication of the next step that had to be taken. “Let’s dial this back and call it a night. I’ll see you at work?”

Wooyoung’s heart sinks slightly as you release his hand and step back, your words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He looks at you, searching for your face for any sign of hope, but your expression is resolute. He gets up accordingly, meeting you at the door.

"I'll be heading home now, my boss is counting on me to be well-rested for tomorrow's meeting," He says with a small, forced smile. His eyes, however, betray his true emotions, flickering with a mix of hurt, confusion, and unfulfilled desire.

The door clicks and you breathe out a deep breath your face hardened to obtain.

”Business and pleasure, an easy recipe for disaster.”

🐈‍⬛🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾

Episode 2

THANK YOU FOR READING.

PLEASE DO NOT COPY MY ORIGINAL WORKS, reblogs are appreciated and accepted. Stealing and modifying my work or publishing out on other platforms is not.

©️1117feverlessdreams, 2025

Much love,

xoxo

#ateez au #1117feverlessdreams #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #sub ateez #sub kpop #business #ceo #WCPP #100 notes

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monsta-x-jagi · 6 months ago

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Crown and Chrome

Summary: Kihyun disappeared from your life just as quickly as he rode into it. You fell for him, hard, and he left you to put yourself back together after him. And you tried. But what will you do when he comes back into your life and into your company?

Characters: biker!Kihyun, CEO!reader

Total word count: 29.5k

Warnings: provided in individual chapters

COMPLETED

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Epilogue 1

Epilogue 2

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maximura · 1 year ago

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Hanteo Music Awards 2024

#Park Seonghwa #Seonghwa #Ateez #hanteo music awards #less mob-wife-chic and more ceo-of-a-company-chic #i hope he keeps his long hair #it's nice #but he actually looks amazing with the super short hair too #he has the range! to make it work!

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minisugakoobies · 9 months ago

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CEO Mingi seems to be doing well

(Prev Boss!Mingi)

Me sitting here fighting the Sunday night existential dread that comes with thinking about work tomorrow, choosing instead to imagine CEO!Mingi who invites OC to go on a holiday with him. Under his watch, his company's had its most profitable quarter in years, and he's wanting to do something to relax and enjoy his success. And for some reason those things equate to spoiling her with a trip to Jeju Island and a private bungalow at an in-demand resort.

Jungkook is surprised when OC informs him that she's leaving for a week, but too stubborn to say anything. OC knows he's slightly stunned by how quickly she and Mingi became a thing. She is too, honestly - she never really expected to find someone into her, and she's even more surprised by how quickly she fell for him.

When she steps foot onto the island, it's like she's walking into a dream. The bungalow is secluded, and the staff make themselves scarce, so it feels like it's just the two of them on their own island. They establish a little routine. By now she's learned that Mingi likes to sleep in. So she rises alone to watch the sunrise each day. Then when she hears him start to stir, she slips into bed and wakes him with soft kisses. Eventually the cuddling turns into fucking, deep and slow. They spend their afternoons doing whatever their hearts desire - swimming, swinging in the hammock, napping on the couch. Mingi seems to spend most of his time with his hand(s) on OC - clutching to her in the water, resting his palm on her thigh as she sits next to him reading, slinging his arm over her at night, fingers splaying on the soft curve of her belly. He's a warmth she never wants to forget. She wonders how long she gets to have him. 💕

#mingi #ateez #ceo!mingi #mingi smut #lovely moots #minttangerines #asks #can you tell that i need a vacation?#boss!mingi au

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wooyoungmybelovedhusband · 2 years ago

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ʕ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 3.00 "Qᴜɪᴛ?!" ʔ

ヾᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ : ᴄᴇᴏ! ᴘᴀʀᴋ ꜱᴇᴏɴɢʜᴡᴀ x ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛᴀʀʏ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ヾꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ/ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ : ʜᴇʀᴇ

ヾᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ : ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟʟʏ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ꜱʟᴀᴘ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ꜰᴏʀ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴛᴜᴘɪᴅ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ.

ヾᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 875

ヾᴅɪꜱᴄʟᴀɪᴍᴇʀ : ᴀʟᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ "ᴡʜᴀᴛ'ꜱ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛᴀʀʏ ᴋɪᴍ" ᴋ-ᴅʀᴀᴍᴀ ᴀᴜ, ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇꜱ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴄᴛᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏʟɪɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀɪꜱᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ.

«"Mr.Park what are you doing here? Is there anything you need?» Seonghwa clears his throat, after hearing your words as he regains his composure. «Ms.Hwang, may I know why you're here?» Your brows furrow at his words, not quite understanding the absurdity of his sentence. The corners of your lips twitch trying hard to keep your formal expression as you ask, «Mr.Park, I don't quite understand the context of your sentence, could you please elaborate?»

He clears his throat yet again, «The party hosted by Sumyung group will be starting at 8 o'clock tonight, I'd like for you to be prepared by 6 o'clock with the dress which will be delivered to your house two hours before.» Your left eye twitches in annoyance having your blind date spoiled by the man towering over you, «Mr.Park I think you've been mistaken, I have already appointed Song Hyunju's schedule to be your date for the party. And she has already chosen the dress for the party too.»

Seonghwa's eyebrows knit slightly, but he lets out a low sigh, «I am quite disappointed in you for making such a stupid situation, Ms.Hwang. I hope you know that she has quite the scandal with the CEO of Sumyung group, Lee Dohwan who wouldn't like seeing her as my date. I thought you did your research on the model's social interactions with the people of the Sumyung group.» Your lips tremble a little in shock, and you quickly pull out your phone to look through everything only to find out he was correct. ' "Famous Model Song Hyunju, the ex-girlfriend of Lee Dohwan, the CEO of Sumyung group, was found to have cheated on him, thus their break-up" Stated by Dispatch Korea.'

Fuck, I thought I had checked everything. You raise your head to let your eyes meet his, the same formal expression staying on your face. «I would like to apologise for my mishap, Mr.Park. I promise to not let this kind of mistake occur again, and I will be driving to your apartment at 6 o'clock instead to pick out your suit.» Seonghwa doesn't speak one more word before walking away after giving you a nod.

You let out a long sigh, as you walk your way towards your house. «All this for nothing?»

Just when you reach your house, you hear your phone ring. You walk inside and answer the call without checking the ID. «Y/n-ah didn't you say you'll be free today?» You instantly recognize your sister's voice, «Sadly no, Yeji.» You huff out a sigh but flinch when you hear your older brother Hyunjin's voice, «WHAT? BUT WE WERE GOING TO HAVE OUR SIBLING NIGHT TODAY.»

«Well we can't have that today because I will be having a 'be the stuck-up boss' date' day, today.» You let out all your pent-up frustration caused due to the man who sent you the very long tight-fitting shimmery red dress for you to wear tonight. «Seriously? What's wrong with that Asshole, didn't you ask for a leave?»

«Well, I did, I guess, but now I have to be his date because of a stupid mistake I made.» You look at time and squeak instantly, «Okay Yeji, Hyunjin, I'll call you guys later. I've got to go.»

By the time the clock struck 5:30 p.m, you were dressed in the beautiful red dress which was sent to you, and you had grabbed your purse as you got in your car.

Just as you reach his mansion, you step out of your car, preparing yourself as you take a deep breath before walking in.

You walk in to find no one in the house, no maid in sight, you frown to yourself before walking to his giant closet like you usually did. But your eyes bulged out at the sight, it was the Park Seonghwa, trying to fix his crooked tie. You swiftly snap out of your trance of thoughts, before walking towards him, «"Mr.Park, I'll fix it.»

You set your purse down on the wide glass table just a few metres away from his figure. Seonghwa doesn't flinch at your voice, and you just make your way towards him. You place your hands around the crooked tie, it was usual like any other day since the day you mastered fixing a tie. But you notice the way his breath gets caught in his throat, his Adam's apple bobs slightly.

Your eyes wander up to find his dark sharp eyes looking down at you. You swiftly lower your head back down, trying to ignore the way your cheeks heat up. You mentally slap yourself, but flinch when you hear, «"Are you done Ms.Hwang?"» You swiftly pull the bottom of the tie, fixing it completely before moving away.

«"Let's head to Mr.Park. It's getting late already."»

The whole ride to the party was too silent, but you manage to finally break the silence, «"Mr.Park I've been meaning to tell you this for a week. This may come off as a surprise to you, but I will be quitting."»

«"QUIT?!"»

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez smut imagines #ateez hard hours #ateez x reader #ateez series #ceo! ateez #ceo! seonghwa #ceo!seonghwa #ceo!au #seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa #seonghwa #seonghwa series #park seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa series #ateez x reader series #seonghwa x reader series

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kathaelipwse · 2 months ago

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Stuck With You

Masterlist

☘︎ Next chapter>>>

Pairing: CEO!J.Yunho x Secretary!Reader

Trope: Grumpy x Sunshine

Warnings: Smau, Fluff, grumpy yunho, bickering

Word count: 1.1k

Author's note: Hie lovies! I hope y'll are fine! Also! This will be a series of 12 chapters!

Chapter 1: The Long Road

The storm warnings had come in earlier that morning—dark clouds brewing over Seoul, thick enough to make the city feel like it was sinking under the weight of the sky. Rain poured, slamming against windows and turning the streets into rivers. A flight to Ulsan was supposed to be easy—a quick trip. But as the weather worsened, the airline had announced it: all flights canceled.

And so, here y'll are, trapped in a car, traveling the four-hour route to Ulsan. Yunho, the CEO of one of the biggest companies in Korea, had insisted on driving. The decision made no sense to you, his secretary who had to accompany him for an event in Ulsan. As time passed by, Yunho had been… Yunho. Grumpy, moody, irritated that something so trivial as weather had ruined his perfectly planned day.

“Great,” Yunho muttered under his breath, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. “Four hours. Wasted.”

The traffic on the highway was crawling. The rain didn’t help, and the skies had darkened even further, making the world outside seem claustrophobic. The headlights of other cars smeared through the fog, nothing more than vague shadows in the rain. The hum of the engine and the soft rustling of the wipers were the only sounds filling the car.

You shifted in the passenger seat, glancing over at Yunho, trying to figure out how to break the suffocating silence. They had been quiet for a while now, both of y'll lost in your own thoughts.

“You know,” you started, voice light and casual, “the view looks kind of nice in a weird, stormy way.”

Yunho didn’t even look at you. He just sighed, his eyes locked on the road. “If you think the view is nice, you must be insane.”

You smiled a little, trying not to let his mood drag them down. “You don’t think it’s a little bit peaceful? All this rain? It’s kind of… soothing.”

He didn’t respond, and for a moment, the only sound was the soft buzz of the car's engine.

“You sure you don’t want to stop for a coffee or something? Get a break?” you asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Yunho’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I don’t need a break. We’re already behind schedule as it is.”

You let out a small sigh, knowing this was going nowhere. “We’re stuck in traffic, sir. We’re gonna be late no matter what.”

Yunho shot you a quick glare. “I’m aware of that.” His voice was tight, like every word was squeezed out through clenched teeth.

You turned towards the window. “Well, there’s no point in getting worked up about it.”

Yunho's eyes flicked over to you for a split second, his jaw clenching. “It’s not about the traffic. It’s about the time. Time is money. And I hate wasting it.”

You rolled their eyes, but Yunho wasn’t looking. “You’re really going to keep going on about the time? You do realize we’re not getting to Ulsan any faster by complaining about it, right?”

Yunho’s lips curled into a tight smirk, though there was no humor in it. “It’s cute that you think that.”

You blinked, trying not to let the sarcasm get under their skin. “Look, it’s not my fault your flight got canceled. You’re the one who insisted on driving instead of canceling the plans with a solid excuse of The Storm.”

“Because the event is important for the company Ms. L/n, you are aware of it,” Yunho said, his voice flat.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I think this is a waste of time,” you muttered. “You’re driving, we’re stuck in traffic, and we’re still hours away from Ulsan. And, oh—did I mention we’re already running late?”

Yunho hissed under his breath, clearly annoyed at your remark. “If you’re going to keep complaining, I’ll turn this car around and drive you straight back to Seoul. Or I will leave you here itself. How’s that sound?”

You snapped your head toward him. “That’s not even funny.”

A heavy silence filled the car, thick with the tension of frustration and annoyance. The rain hammered against the roof, and the low growl of the engine was the only sound breaking the quiet.

“Alright,” Yunho said, finally breaking the silence. “I’ll take a shortcut. It’ll save us time.”

You turned your head sharply. “A shortcut? Really? You’ve got to be kidding.”

Yunho’s eyes flicked to the GPS on the dashboard. “The map says it’ll save us at least 20 minutes.”

You squinted at the screen. The route looked different from the one y'll had been following. It led into a narrow road, almost like it wasn’t even part of the main highway.

“Sir, that doesn’t look like a shortcut,” you said, voice laced with doubt. “That road looks like it’s going to take us to the middle of nowhere.”

He shot you a look. “It’s a shortcut. Trust the map.”

“Trust the map? This thing’s barely working,” you argued, raising an eyebrow. “You sure you don’t just want to get lost?”

Yunho’s grip on the wheel tightened. “I’m not getting lost. We’ll get there faster. Just sit back and relax.”

But as y'll veered off onto the new route, the road seemed to narrow, the trees growing thicker, the air heavier. The headlights barely cut through the rain anymore, and the soft hum of the wipers felt like the only thing keeping y'll grounded in reality.

“This is getting weird, Sir,” you said, your voice now a little more tense. “This doesn’t feel like a shortcut. We’re not even on the map anymore.”

Yunho didn’t respond. His eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead. The GPS flickered for a moment, then a “Route recalculating…” message appeared.

“What the hell?” you muttered, glancing over at the screen. “It’s—”

The map froze, then went blank.

“Sir, what the hell is happening? Where are we?” Your voice was starting to edge into panic. “This isn’t on any map.”

Yunho’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “I don’t know. The signal’s gone. This damn road is cutting us off.” His voice was tight, now showing hints of irritation. “We’re going to have to turn back.”

But when you looked back, the road behind y'll was gone. It was as if it had never existed, swallowed by the night shadows, trees blocking the way they came.

“What the hell?” you said again, voice shaky. “There’s nothing back there. We can’t even—”

Yunho slammed his fist on the dashboard in frustration. “Great. Just great.” He gritted his teeth. “We’re stuck.”

You looked out the window, the rain intensifying with every passing second. There was no sign of a road, no lights, no houses, nothing but darkness and the relentless storm.

“Sir,”you said softly, their voice almost drowned out by the downpour, “what do we do now?”

Yunho didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked from the road to the blank GPS screen, then back to the endless dark ahead. His grip tightened even more on the wheel.

“I don’t know.” His voice was low, barely audible over the rain. “We’re lost.”

.....To Be Continued

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zh0nggucc1 · 1 year ago

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Drippin Desires 1/2

Word count: 1.6k

Pairings: Mingi x Gn!reader

Content: Mingi is Y/N’s boss and he’s running late…

Warning: NSFW, public indecency, fingering, degradation, pet names (darling), dom!mingi, sub!reader

Splash! Droplets of the liminal greys above my head secreted its condensed layers. People scavenged around for any form of shelter, some even using the tops of their hood-less jackets to protect their heads from the harmless liquid. There was one in particular who caught my eye, the only one that could come out of this waterfall looking like a Greek God. If he wasn’t a Greek God he was surely blessed with all the beauty Athena had to offer

Song Mingi, unfortunately my boss. His brown, slicked back locks were beginning to fall down onto his carefully and beautifully, sculpted face, due to the rain weakening the gel that held his most likely, soft and luscious hair in place. A slight look of frustration painted his face before he glanced my way, replacing that sour look with a half smile. He soon approached me. We didn’t often catch the train together as he usually took the earlier train. I’m assuming he woke up late, putting him in this position.

“Good morning Mr. Song, are you running late?” I gently and professionally spoke to him. The rain dripping down his face enhanced his beauty by 100x, I could barely focus on anything but his stunningly shaped, pink, plump lips. They looked like they were itching to be kissed, I couldn’t bare it. “No need to be so professional, we’re not at work yet, call me Mingi.” He sent me a friendly smile. I couldn’t be friendly with him, I could barely resist ripping his clothes off on the spot. “I would prefer to be professional around you, sir.” As I finished speaking, the train had arrived at the platform. The moment the doors had opened, I swiftly hopped on hoping he would take the hint and leave me alone. The train was rather crowded so we had both ended up in each other’s personal space. It was more than i could handle.

“Come on, you can loosen up around me Y/N, don’t have to be so tight~.” His comment caused a light pink to cover my cheeks. “I don’t think it is appropriate for you to be talking to me this way and please, call me ‘L/N’, we must remain professional, sir.” I remained calm. “What? You don’t like it when I call you Y/N?” He sent me a very subtle smirk. No, I fucking love it, that’s the problem…

“Please don’t call me that again.” I spoke in between a gulp. Mingi spoke up again. “But I like your name, Y/N.” That was it. “I said stop!” I snapped at him, just like an angry chihuahua. I immediately regretted it. I turned around, My back facing him, feeling slightly guilty for shouting at him. Seconds later, I felt something solid poke my backside. Was that what I thought it was? This can’t be happening, I won’t be able to resist much longer…

“S-Sorry…” He muttered, as he grazed his finger along my hip, his tone much less confident and much more timid. He held his head lower, the sensation of his rough breaths down my neck, sending chills down my spine. I know what he wanted and I wanted it too but it was so risky, especially here.

Fuck it. Any dignity I left was gone in an instant as I backed myself up onto his partially hardened erection. I could tell he enjoyed this as he had to clear his throat to hide any devilish sounds that were aching to leave his mouth. It was so undeniably sexy. I needed to hear more of his sinful vocals. They caused a familiar liquid to coat my panties. I pressed my thighs together, in attempts of creating some kind of friction to satisfy this unbearable desire to be touched by him.

I hurriedly, scanned around the crowded cart. Once I was sure no one was looking, I grabbed his abnormally long fingers from behind and placed them exactly where I wanted them, up my skirt, in between my thighs. Not a word, left my lips in shame. I was about to let my boss fondle me on a train.

I heard a scoff leave his mouth and felt the vibrations from his chest due to our close proximity. Gosh that was so sexy, I felt myself getting even wetter. I bit my bottom lip, my breath becoming shaky.

His head tilted, his lips grazing my earlobe. “What is it? You want my fingers, hm?” He suggested, his voice low and quiet. It turned me on more than anything. I gulped and nodded. “I want to hear your words, darling.” He stated, stubbornly. “Y-yes..” I quietly replied. “Yes what?” He smirked. “Yes please...” I desperately spoke. He let out a low chuckle, sending shivers down my spine.

His finger’s collided with my underwear using one gentle touch and with one rough pull, they had been ripped off of me. I gasped in disbelief. He muttered a careless ‘oops’ and placed lacy fabric in his other hand, so he was now able to give me what I had been desiring.

He swiped his middle finger across my dripping folds, causing me to let out a shaky breath. He soon located my clit, rubbing slow and gentle circles around it. It felt good, but i needed more. I whined quietly. “What? is it not enough for you? How about this?” He hastily shoved two digits inside of me, causing me to let out a loud gasp. My reaction brought a wider smirk to his face. It created a sloshing sound due to the wetness. His fingers were so long, they easily reached my g-spot. He pumped his fingers in and out, rapidly, hitting my g-spot every time. My body jolted every time he hit it. I bit down on my bottom lip to suppress my moans, hard enough to draw blood.

It satisfied him seeing me try so hard to keep my composure but failing miserably. “What a slut? taking my fingers so well.” He whispered, his lips, again grazing my earlobe. I wished those perfect lips of his could be all over my body. I wished for his tongue to replace his fingers ramming into my dripping cunt. Unfortunately, this was the most I could allow to happen. It was too risky.

His bulge rubbed against my ass as his fingers rammed into my clenching cunt. He used his thumb to circle my clit, rapid enough for an orgasm to be nearing. I couldn’t do that here… it would make a mess.

“Sir- I mean Mingi- I mean Mr. Song… you need to stop.. i’m c-close.” I stuttered, breathlessly. “So what? Why don’t we make a mess and let the whole world that you’re not as innocent as you make yourself out to be~.” He whispered seductively. As much as I loved this feeling, he had to be stopped. I grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand out of my skirt and just in time because our stop was approaching. Once the train had stopped, he leaned down to whisper in my ear again. “Meet me in my office on your lunch break, darling~” He got off of the train while I paused, almost forgetting to get off.

I hopped off and started making my way my usual coffee shop. I always stopped by there before work. As I walked in, I noticed a face i hadn’t seen before. I had grown quite fond of all of the employees, but this one I didn’t recognise. They must’ve hired someone knew. He was gorgeous, a little bit short, but nevertheless stunning. He had black, mid length hair, with a middle parting. He had a smile that could light up a whole room and quite a cute aura. I had been so focused staring at him, I didn’t notice that he was trying to take my order. “Ma’am, can I help you?” He gifted me a gentle smile, knocking me out of my trance. “Ah yes, so sorry! Could I get a caramel latte with extra cream?” I asked, He immediately typed it into the till. “Of course, is that all?” His voice was so soft and pretty, I could listen to it all day. “Yup that’s all, how much will that be?” I asked. “On the house… if I could get your number?” He flirted, looking me in the eye. He was confident, even more attractive. My cheek went a light shade of pink. “Eh sure why not?” I took my phone out of my pocket and opened up the keypad, handing my phone to him. He took it and swiftly typed his number in, saving his contact with the name ‘Joongie<3’. I read his name badge. His name was Hongjoong, what a pretty name. “thank you uhh-“ I cut him off. “Y/N, call me Y/N.” I smiled. “Nice to meet you, Y/N.” He passed my phone back to me. “Nice to meet you too, Hongjoong.” I replied. “Wait how did you- oh I forgot I wear a name badge.” He let out the cutest chuckle, to which I replied also with a chuckle.

After our conversation I waited, patiently for my latte. After it had been made, I bid Hongjoong a goodbye and made my way into my work building. There was nothing special about my job. It was a basic office job, nothing more to it, I sat at a computer all day and got paid to type. I can’t the pay was bad though, the pay was pretty good for what it was, it gave me enough to live on and that’s all that mattered. There was one thing I looked forward too everyday and that was eye fucking Song Mingi whenever he made a grand appearance however today I felt as if I had more than just eye fucking to look forward to.

I walked over to my computer, setting my coffee down on the table. I decided to take my phone out and message Hongjoong, just so my number would show up in his phone.

Hey! it’s Y/N, message me when you get the chance

Delivered

I knew, as he was at work, it would take a while for him to reply, so I just got straight on with my work.

TO BE CONTINUED…

A/N: I hope you all enjoyed!! please give me your opinion and/or requests!! thank you for reading <3

#ateez fic #ateez #mingi #song mingi #ceo #fanfiction #fanfic #mingi fanfic #ateez fanfic #song mingi fanfic #mingi fanfiction #song mingi fanfiction #ateez fanfiction #hongjoong

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cocobeanncteez · 3 months ago

Text

The CEO Collision - Part One

Pairing: CEO!Seonghwa x CEO! reader (f)

Warnings / content for Part One: Suggestive content, angsty, alcohol consumption. Please note that other than Ateez, all other character names used are fictional.

Word Count: 10.4k

Masterlist for The CEO Collision

“Congratulations, Ms. Y/N,” your secretary said when you entered your office after your last meeting for the day, and the week as it was a Friday. “The investors seemed impressed.”

“Thank you, Nari,” you replied with a grin, gathering your stuff to put it in your bag. “Shouldn’t you be heading out soon for your date?”

Nari blushed. “Yunho pushed our reservation by half an hour to give me some time to get ready.”

You nodded. “That’s sweet of him. Have fun tonight,” you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “And tell Yunho I said hi.”

“Will do,” Nari said with a grin. “You’re heading straight home?”

“That’s the plan,” you replied, glancing at your phone to check the time. “I’m long overdue for a quiet night in.”

Nari chuckled. “Knowing you, you’ll end up working from home anyway.”

You smirked. “Probably, but at least I’ll be in my pajamas.”

“Fair point,” she said, walking you to the elevator. “Drive safe, Ms. Y/N.”

“You too. And don’t let Yunho distract you too much from dinner,” you teased as the elevator doors opened.

Nari blushed again, laughing as she waved goodbye. “No promises.”

The elevator doors closed, leaving you alone for the descent to the parking garage. You leaned against the wall, letting out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The week had been productive but exhausting, and the promise of the weekend was the only thing that kept you going.

Once the elevator reached the basement, you stepped out and made your way to your car. The quiet hum of the nearly empty garage was oddly comforting as you unlocked the sleek black sedan that your father had insisted you drive.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, you tossed your bag onto the passenger side and started the engine. The low purr was satisfying, a reminder of all the hard work that had brought you here. As you pulled out of the parking lot, the city lights began to blur together in a comforting glow against the evening sky.

The drive home was uneventful, the streets gradually growing quieter as you moved away from the bustling business district. By the time you reached the gates of your family’s estate, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and purple.

The gates opened automatically as you approached, and you drove down the winding driveway toward the sprawling mansion. Parking in your usual spot, you turned off the car and sat there for a moment, staring at the grand facade of your childhood home.

With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your bag and stepped out of the car, making your way to the front door. One of the house staff greeted you with a polite smile as you entered.

“Welcome home, Ms. Y/N. Dinner will be served shortly.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, slipping off your heels as you made your way inside. The comforting aroma of your mother’s cooking wafted through the air, and despite your exhaustion, a small part of you looked forward to the meal.

As you approached the dining room, you heard the faint hum of conversation and your twin brother’s unmistakable laughter.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” your twin, Hongjoong, teased without looking up.

Rolling your eyes, you walked over and ruffled his perfectly styled hair, earning a sharp protest.

“Ugh, stop that!” he grumbled, swatting your hand away.

“Can’t help it,” you replied with a smirk as you took your seat. “You look too polished. Someone has to keep you grounded.”

He huffed, running his fingers through his hair to fix it, muttering under his breath about how annoying you were.

“Kids, behave,” your mother said with a fond smile as the staff began serving dinner.

You glanced at the spread—steaming platters of food, perfectly arranged salads, and freshly baked buns. Despite the lavish meal, your mind was still buzzing with thoughts of work.

“How was your day, dear?” your mother asked, her tone warm while she watched you fill up your plate.

“It went really well,” you replied, a sense of pride creeping into your voice. “We had our investor meeting today for the new line of medical imaging devices, and they were impressed. They’ve agreed to back us for the next phase of development.”

“That’s wonderful news,” your father said, setting down his fork to look at you. “This could be a game-changer for your company.”

“It will be,” you said confidently, picking up your glass of water. “The potential applications are huge, and with their support, we’ll be able to expand production globally.”

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you’d be burnt out by now. You’ve been working on that pitch for weeks.”

You shrugged, taking a sip of water. “I won’t lie, it’s been exhausting. But seeing the results today made it worth it.”

“Hard work always pays off,” your father said approvingly. “You’ve done an excellent job, Y/N.”

Your mother beamed with pride. “I knew you’d pull it off. You’ve always had a knack for making things happen.”

“Well, let’s just hope the development phase goes as smoothly,” you said, though the smile on your face didn’t waver.

Dinner buzzed with lively conversation as the dishes were passed around. Stories from work, jokes, and plans for the weekend filled the air. You felt the week’s exhaustion slowly ebb away as the comfortable rhythm of family time took over.

“So, Joong,” your father said casually, turning to your brother. “Are you heading to Mingi’s bar later tonight? Seonghwa mentioned the two of you were planning to catch up over drinks.”

Hongjoong shrugged, chewing on a bite of salmon. “He brought it up earlier, but I haven’t decided yet. Why?”

Your father leaned back in his chair, his expression growing more serious. “I spoke with Seonghwa’s parents today.”

The mood at the table shifted subtly, your mother straightening her posture and Hongjoong setting down his fork.

“Oh?” your brother said cautiously. “What about?”

Your father hesitated for a moment, as though choosing his words carefully. Then, he said, “Their company has been struggling for a while now. They came to us with a… suggestion.”

“What kind of suggestion?” you asked, sensing where this might be headed but hoping you were wrong.

Your father looked directly at you. “They’ve asked for your hand in marriage, Y/N.”

The words hung in the air like a thunderclap.

“What?” you said, your voice sharper than you intended.

Hongjoong gaped, clearly just as blindsided at hearing that his bestfriend would possibly marry his twin sister. “Wait, hold on. You’re joking, right?”

Your father shook his head. “They believe a marriage between you and Seonghwa would secure both families’ futures. It would strengthen the partnership and stabilize their company.”

“This is ridiculous,” you snapped, your appetite vanishing. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s not as bad as you think,” your mother interjected softly. “You and Seonghwa already know each other since high school. It wouldn’t be like starting from scratch.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” you exclaimed. “We know each other too well, and it’s not good!”

Well, your relationship with Seonghwa was complicated. In simpler words, you hated each other.

Okay, maybe hate is a strong word. Strongly dislike?

You and Seonghwa have history, though.

And it hurts every time you see him.

“Y/N,” your father said firmly, “this is bigger than personal feelings. Sometimes, sacrifices need to be made for the greater good.”

Hongjoong was not amused, his voice rising. “You’re really going to force her into this? Without even discussing it with her first?”

“We’re discussing it now,” your father replied, his tone calm but unyielding.

You felt a wave of anger and disbelief crash over you. “Discussing? You’ve already decided, haven’t you?”

Your mother avoided your gaze, and your father’s silence was confirmation enough.

Hongjoong’s jaw clenched. “This is insane.”

“You’re being dramatic,” your father said. “This arrangement will benefit everyone.”

“I’m not doing it,” you said through gritted teeth, pushing your chair back. “You can’t make me.”

“Y/N—” your mother started, but you were already on your feet, your heart pounding with fury.

“I need some air,” you muttered before storming out of the dining room, leaving your stunned family behind.

The cool night air brushed against your skin as you stepped into the garden, the faint glow of lanterns lighting the cobblestone path. The neatly trimmed hedges and rows of blooming flowers framed the vast space, but your focus was on the gazebo ahead—a sanctuary of peace amid the chaos of the evening.

You made your way to it and sat down on the wooden bench inside. The gazebo overlooked the koi pond, its surface rippling gently under the moonlight. You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging within you.

Marriage. To him.

The thought alone made your chest tighten. You pressed your hands against your lap, fingers gripping the fabric of your dress. Your mind, against your will, drifted to the past.

It was senior year of college, a warm night like this one, and a party full of red cups, blaring music, and friends urging you to drink. You and Seonghwa had both been there, circling each other with that same mix of irritation and curiosity that had always defined your relationship.

You remembered the alcohol-fueled courage that led to a heated argument in the kitchen, which somehow turned into shared laughter and then lips moving against each other, and then…

You shook your head, willing the memory to stop, but it continued. The two of you in his dimly lit bedroom, a tangle of limbs and whispers, hands all over each other, bare skin to bare skin, the lines of hatred blurring for a brief moment. And then, the next morning.

The hurt welled up as you recalled how he had acted like nothing had happened, brushing it off as though it had been meaningless. No acknowledgment, no apology—just an unspoken agreement to pretend it never occurred.

Your nails dug into your palms as the emotions swirled. Hurt. Anger. Resentment.

Because that wasn’t the first time you spent the night in Seonghwa’s bed. It happened one more time the same year.

And again three years later when you both started a masters degree in the same university.

He reacted the exact same way, acting like this was all a mistake.

A soft knock on the wooden pillar of the gazebo startled you, pulling you back to the present.

You turned, and there he was—Park Seonghwa.

His tall figure was illuminated by the soft garden lights, and his dark suit clung to him perfectly, as always. His expression was unreadable, his eyes steady as they met yours.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his voice calm, though you could sense the tension beneath it.

Your heart skipped a beat, but you masked it with a glare. “Do I have a choice?”

Seonghwa’s lips curved into the faintest smirk as he stepped into the gazebo, his presence filling the small space. “Not really.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Why are you here?”

“I came to pick up your brother,” he said, leaning against one of the pillars. “But it seems like I stumbled into a family meeting instead.”

“You knew,” you accused, your voice sharp.

His brows furrowed. “Knew what?”

“About this ridiculous arrangement,” you snapped, standing abruptly. “About our parents trying to marry us off like some business merger.”

Seonghwa’s expression hardened. “You think I had a say in this?”

“You always seem to have a say in everything,” you shot back, the years of resentment bubbling to the surface.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I found out this afternoon, Y/N. I’m just as blindsided as you are.”

You searched his face for any sign of deception, but all you saw was the same frustration you felt. It caught you off guard, and you lowered your gaze, the fight draining out of you.

“I’m not doing it,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

Seonghwa’s voice softened slightly. “Neither am I. But you know how our families are. They won’t make this easy for us.”

You clenched your jaw, looking away. The weight of the situation pressed down on you, and for a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the garden’s serenity at odds with the turmoil in your hearts.

“I don’t want to marry you, Seonghwa,” you said finally, your voice trembling with honesty.

He hesitated, and when he spoke, his tone was quieter, almost resigned. “I know,” he murmured, loud enough for you to hear before he left you alone.

But for some reason, the way he said it didn’t bring you the relief you thought it would.

-x-x-x-

The soft clinking of cutlery and the murmur of polite conversation filled the sunlit dining room. The brunch spread before you was nothing short of extravagant, as was typical of any gathering hosted by your family. Freshly baked croissants, platters of fruit, and a variety of cheeses adorned the table, along with a selection of teas and juices.

Across from you sat Mr. and Mrs. Park, Seonghwa’s parents, their expressions warm despite the tension that lingered beneath the surface. Mrs. Park, ever elegant, wore a tailored pastel suit, her smile gentle as she sipped her tea. Mr. Park, though visibly tired, maintained his usual composed demeanor.

“Thank you for having us,” Mrs. Park said, glancing at you. “It’s always a pleasure to visit.”

“It’s always nice to see you, Mrs. Park,” you replied with a small smile, setting your cup down.

Your parents sat at the head of the table, exchanging pleasantries with the Parks, but the unspoken purpose of the brunch hung heavy in the air.

“How’s Seonghwa?” your mother asked casually, though there was a slight edge to her tone.

Mrs. Park hesitated, her smile faltering for a moment. “He… had a late night with Hongjoong and Mingi,” she said delicately. “He’s resting.”

You barely suppressed a scoff. Of course, he was. It wasn’t hard to imagine him nursing a hangover while his parents tried to salvage their family’s business.

“Oh yes,” your mother said, her expression neutral as she took a sip of her tea.

Mrs. Park quickly redirected the conversation. “Y/N, how is your work going? I heard about your recent success with the investors. That’s truly impressive.”

“Thank you,” you said, offering a polite smile. “It’s been a busy few weeks, but the results were worth it.”

“You’ve always been so driven,” Mrs. Park said fondly. “It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about you.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sincerity in her voice. Mrs. Park had always been kind to you, treating you almost like a second daughter. The thought of her struggling because of their company’s financial issues tugged at something in your chest.

As the conversation continued, Mr. Park cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “We won’t pretend this isn’t a difficult situation,” he said, his tone steady but tinged with exhaustion. “Our company… it’s been challenging, to say the least. We’ve explored every option we can think of this past two years, but this marriage proposal seemed like the best path forward—for both our families.”

Your father nodded, his expression serious. “It’s not ideal, but it’s a way to ensure stability.”

Mrs. Park turned to you, her gaze soft. “Y/N, I know this isn’t fair to you. If there were another way, we wouldn’t even consider asking this of you. But… we’re out of options.”

The vulnerability in her voice made your heart ache. You had known the Parks for years, and they had always treated you with warmth and respect. The thought of them losing everything felt deeply unfair.

“I understand,” you said quietly, your hands resting on your lap. “You and Mr. Park have always been kind to me, and I appreciate that more than I can say. If marrying Seonghwa is what it takes to help your family, then… I’ll consider it.” A silence fell over the table, broken only by the soft chirping of birds outside. “But…” you continued, “I would like to get to know Seonghwa a bit more first.”

Mrs. Park’s eyes filled with gratitude, and she reached out to place a hand over yours. “Thank you, Y/N. You have no idea what this means to us.”

Your father looked at you with a mix of surprise and approval, while your mother’s expression remained unreadable.

But as you sat there, a quiet determination settling over you, you couldn’t help but wonder how you would face Seonghwa after this—and whether he would ever understand why you made this choice.

You had a soft spot when it came to him. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy for you to at least agree to try?

Later in the day, you were sat on the plush couch in your room, a glass of wine in your hand as you recounted the whirlwind of the past 24 hours to your best friend. Across from you, Yeri was curled up in an armchair, her eyes wide with interest as you spoke.

When you finished, she let out a low whistle, her jaw dropping slightly. “So, let me get this straight,” she said, leaning forward. “You’re basically engaged to CEO Park Seonghwa?”

“Uh, no,” you replied with a sigh, twirling the stem of your wine glass between your fingers. “I asked to get to know him, Yeri. It’s… complicated.”

Yeri tilted her head thoughtfully, her expression surprisingly calm. “It doesn’t sound like you’re entirely against it, though. The idea of marrying him, I mean.”

You blinked at her, caught off guard. “You’re not going to yell at me about how unfair this is?”

She shrugged, offering you a small smile. “Don’t get me wrong, I think the whole ‘arranged marriage for the sake of business’ thing is ridiculous. But honestly, Y/N, it might not be the worst thing in the world.”

Your brows furrowed. “How can you say that? You know how I feel about him.”

Yeri sighed, setting her glass down on the coffee table. “I know Seonghwa’s a sore spot for you, and I know your history with him isn’t exactly… ideal. But it’s been nearly four years since the last time you were with him, you both are thirty years old, and his parents are struggling and this can help them. If your families think this is the best way to secure the future, it might be worth considering.”

You stared at her, unsure whether to feel betrayed or grateful. “You’re awfully calm about all this.”

“Because I know you,” she said, leaning back in her chair. “You wouldn’t even be entertaining this idea if you didn’t care. You’ve always had a soft spot for people in need, poor or rich, and as much as you hate to admit it, you care about his family. Plus…” She paused, a teasing smile creeping onto her lips. “It’s not like Seonghwa’s hard to look at.”

“Yeri!” you exclaimed, throwing a pillow at her.

She laughed, dodging the pillow easily. “I’m just saying! If you have to be stuck in a marriage of convenience, at least it’s with someone who looks like him. You must admit, he speaks so eloquently too.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re too stubborn for your own good,” she shot back. “Look, I’m not saying this is going to be easy. But maybe it’s an opportunity to start fresh. You’ve spent so much energy hating him—maybe it’s time to let some of that go?”

You bit your lip, her words hitting closer to home than you wanted to admit. “It’s not that simple, Yeri.”

“I know it’s not,” she said gently. “But you’re one of the strongest people I know, and if anyone can make this work, it’s you.”

You let out a long sigh, setting your glass down. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Yeri leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with determination. “You start by surviving this engagement thing or getting to know him whatever-thing. And when the time comes, I’ll be there to make sure your wedding is the event of the century. Deal?”

A small laugh escaped you as you reached for your wine glass again. “Deal.”

“To new beginnings,” Yeri said, raising her glass in a toast.

“To surviving this mess,” you replied, clinking your glass against hers.

-x-x-x-

The hum of activity filled your office as you reviewed the latest reports from your team. The success of the investor meeting last week had set a positive tone, and you were determined to keep the momentum going.

Your phone buzzed against your desk, drawing your attention away from the document in front of you. Frowning slightly, you reached for it and saw a message from Seonghwa.

Seonghwa: Dinner tonight? Let’s talk.

Your breath hitched, your heart racing despite yourself. You hesitated, staring at the screen for a moment before typing a reply.

You: What time?

The response came almost immediately.

Seonghwa: 7 PM? I’ll pick you up.

You: Sounds good

You set your phone down, trying to focus on your work, but your thoughts were already elsewhere. The idea of sitting across from him at a dinner table was… unsettling. After years of tension, could the two of you even hold a decent conversation?

A knock on your office door pulled you from your thoughts. “Come in,” you called, smoothing your expression.

Nari walked in, holding a folder. “Here are the updated projections you asked for.”

“Thank you,” you said, taking the folder and setting it on your desk.

Nari hesitated for a moment, glancing at your phone. “Are you okay, Ms. Y/N? You seem… distracted.”

You managed a smile. “I’m fine, just a lot on my mind.”

She nodded, not pressing further. “If you need anything, let me know.”

As she left, you leaned back in your chair, letting out a long sigh. You knew why Seonghwa had reached out. You were both navigating uncharted territory, and like it or not, you needed to give this a chance—for your families, if nothing else.

When the clock struck five, you grabbed your coat and bag, leaving the office with a sense of apprehension. As you headed to your car, you checked your phone again, confirming the time.

7 PM. Dinner with CEO Park Seonghwa.

Your grip on the steering wheel tightened as you drove home to get ready. You weren’t sure if this dinner would bring any clarity, but one thing was certain: it was the start of a new chapter, whether you liked it or not.

---

You stood in front of your floor-length mirror, smoothing the fabric of your black silk dress. It clung to your figure perfectly, the sleek design exuding elegance while still being understated enough for a dinner meeting. Your matching pumps completed the look, and you reached for your favorite necklace—a delicate silver chain with a tiny diamond pendant—fastening it around your neck.

As you finished applying a touch of lipstick, there was a knock at your bedroom door.

“Come in,” you called, setting the tube down on your vanity.

The door creaked open, and Hongjoong’s familiar face appeared. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his sharp suit slightly wrinkled, likely from a long day at work.

“You look nice,” he said, his tone light but his eyes watchful.

“Thanks,” you replied, turning back to the mirror to check your hair one last time.

“So…” he began, stepping further into the room. “Dinner with Seonghwa, huh? He’s waiting downstairs.”

You let out a soft sigh, turning to face him. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not starting,” he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I just… wanted to check in.”

You arched a brow. “Check in? Since when do you ‘check in’?”

He smiled faintly, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that made your chest tighten. “Since my twin sister got roped into an engagement with my best friend, whom she’s barely been able to tolerate for the past decade.”

You crossed your arms, leaning against the edge of your vanity. “I’ll survive, Joong. It’s just dinner.”

“I know,” he said, sitting on the edge of your bed. “But you’ve never told me why you and Seonghwa don’t get along. And now you’re supposed to marry him. I can’t help but worry about how this is going to work.”

You averted your gaze, focusing on the soft shimmer of your dress under the light. “It’s… complicated.” You couldn’t tell Hongjoong about the couple of times you slept with Seonghwa; he would be furious and you didn’t want any drama.

“It always is with you two,” he said, exhaling a laugh. “But you know you can talk to me, right? If there’s something I should know, I’m here.”

The sincerity in his voice made your throat tighten, but you forced a small smile. “I know. Thanks, Joong.”

He studied you for a moment, his brows furrowing slightly. “You don’t have to do this, you know. If it’s too much—if it’s not what you want—mom and dad will understand.”

You shook your head, standing straighter. “It’s not about what I want. This is bigger than me, and you know it.”

Hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I hate that you’re in this position. But if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

You smiled faintly. “Thanks for the pep talk, coach.”

He grinned, standing and brushing invisible lint from his suit. “What are brothers for?”

As he reached the door, he paused, glancing back at you. “Be careful tonight, okay?”

“I will,” you promised, and with that, he left, leaving you alone with your thoughts once again.

You turned back to the mirror, taking a deep breath. Your reflection stared back at you, poised but uncertain. This dinner wasn’t just a meal—it was the first step in navigating a path you never thought you’d take.

You descended the grand staircase of your family’s mansion, the soft clicking of your heels echoing against the marble floor. Your fingers brushed lightly against the ornate railing, and you forced yourself to remain calm, despite the flutter of nerves in your chest.

At the base of the stairs, Seonghwa stood with your mother, engaged in polite conversation. His smooth voice carried up to you, though you couldn’t make out his words.

It wasn’t until you were halfway down that his gaze shifted, locking onto you. His conversation with your mother faltered for a brief second, his eyes trailing up your figure with a flicker of something you couldn’t quite place.

You tried not to let his attention rattle you, but you couldn’t help noticing how sharp he looked tonight. He wore a silk white button-up shirt tucked neatly into tailored black slacks. The top button of his shirt was undone, revealing just enough of his collarbone to add an air of casual charm.

There was a reason why Park Seonghwa was frequently labeled the most handsome and eligible bachelor CEO in the country. And tonight, it was painfully obvious why.

As you reached the last step, your mother turned to you with a warm smile. “Ah, there you are, darling. You look stunning.”

“Thank you, Mom,” you said, offering her a small smile. Your gaze flicked briefly to Seonghwa, who was still watching you. His expression was unreadable, but the intensity of his stare made your skin heat.

“Seonghwa’s been keeping me company while you were getting ready,” your mother said, her tone light and conversational.

“Good to know he’s capable of that,” you replied, unable to resist a teasing jab.

Seonghwa’s lips quirked upward in a small smirk. “I aim to impress.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the faint twitch of amusement at the corners of your mouth.

“Well,” your mother said, clasping her hands together, “you two should get going. Don’t keep your reservation waiting. Drive safe, Seonghwa.”

“Of course,” Seonghwa said smoothly, nodding toward the front door.

You paused mid-step, turning to him with a raised brow. “You’re driving?”

“I always do,” he replied, already pulling the keys from his pocket. “Why? Unless you’d rather drive yourself?”

You huffed softly, walking past him toward the front door. “Just try not to kill us.”

“I’ll do my best,” he quipped, following you outside.

The chrome silver sports car parked in the driveway was unmistakably his—sleek, polished, and oozing with understated wealth, much like its owner.

Seonghwa stepped ahead to open the passenger door for you, a gentlemanly gesture that caught you off guard. You slid into the seat without comment, the faint scent of leather and his cologne enveloping you.

Moments later, he was in the driver’s seat, starting the car with a low purr of the engine.

“This should be interesting,” he murmured, glancing at you with a playful glint in his eyes before shifting the car into gear and pulling out of the driveway. The soft hum of the engine filled the car as Seonghwa drove, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel. You leaned against the window, watching as the glittering skyline of Seoul gradually faded into quieter roads and open spaces.

You frowned, glancing at him. “This doesn’t look like Gangnam or any of the other districts people like you usually frequent. Where are we going?”

He smirked, the faint glow of the dashboard highlighting his sharp profile. “Relax. You’ll like it.”

“Will I?” you shot back, your voice tinged with doubt. “CEOs like you go beyond Seoul?”

“You’re a CEO too,” Seonghwa chuckled, a low, amused sound that made you glance at him again. “Expensive doesn’t always mean good,” he said, his tone teasing. “Seems like the guys you’ve been with before just took you to the basics.”

You blinked, taken aback by his comment. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “What? It’s not my fault if your standards have been... uninspired.”

“Uninspired?” you repeated, your voice incredulous.

“You’ll see what I mean,” he replied smoothly, clearly enjoying your reaction.

You huffed, crossing your arms. “I’ll have you know, I’ve been to some of the best places in Seoul.”

“Good for you,” he said, his grin widening. “But tonight, I’m showing you something better.”

You bit back a retort, deciding it wasn’t worth the argument. Instead, you turned your attention back to the window as the car began winding up a steep hill.

Moments later, Seonghwa pulled into a small parking lot at the top. The restaurant in front of you was nothing like what you’d expected. It was simple yet elegant, with warm lanterns casting a golden glow on its wooden façade.

“This is where we’re eating?” you asked, unable to hide your surprise.

“One of my favorites,” he said, stepping out of the car. “Come on.”

You followed him inside, where the soft murmur of conversation and the faint aroma of freshly prepared dishes greeted you. The hostess bowed and led you down a quiet hallway to a private room at the end.

The room was intimate and tastefully decorated, with a low table surrounded by plush cushions. A large window stretched along one wall, offering a breathtaking view of Seoul’s twinkling lights below.

“Not bad, right?” Seonghwa said as he gestured for you to sit.

You hesitated for a moment before settling onto one of the cushions. “The view is… nice,” you admitted grudgingly.

He smirked, taking the seat opposite you. “I told you I know good places. You just had to trust me.”

A server arrived to pour tea and hand you both menus. As you glanced over the options, you couldn’t help stealing a glance at Seonghwa. He looked completely at ease, his sharp features softened by the warm glow of the room. For a brief moment, you wondered if there was more to him than the infuriating person you’d known for years.

As the server returned with the first round of dishes, you took a moment to admire the spread. The plates were elegantly arranged, and the aroma of fresh ingredients filled the room.

“This looks amazing,” you admitted, glancing at Seonghwa.

He smirked, leaning back against the cushion. “Told you I know good spots.”

You picked up your chopsticks and sampled one of the dishes, your eyes widening slightly at the burst of flavor. “Okay, I’ll give you this. The food is actually good.”

He chuckled, watching you with a satisfied expression. “You sound surprised.”

“Well, forgive me for underestimating someone who usually dines at places where the plates are more decorative than functional,” you quipped, a playful edge to your tone.

“Touché,” he replied, reaching for his glass of tea. “But I’ll have you know, I’ve always preferred places like this. The hype about fine dining is overrated.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? You’re saying that after all the times you’ve been photographed at Michelin-starred restaurants?”

He smirked. “Appearances. You know how it is.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t argue. After all, you’d played the same game for the sake of business and image.

As the meal progressed, the conversation turned unexpectedly candid.

“So,” you said, setting your chopsticks down for a moment, “why did you agree to this? The engagement, I mean.”

He met your gaze, his expression calm but serious. “Do I really have a choice? My company’s struggling, and our families are… insistent.”

“You could’ve said no,” you countered, tilting your head slightly.

“And let my parents deal with the fallout?” he said with a dry chuckle. “You know how they are. Saying no wasn’t really an option.”

You sighed, swirling the tea in your cup. “Yeah, I get that. My parents were just as persistent.”

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again, his tone quieter. “What about you? Why didn’t you refuse?”

You hesitated, the memory of his parents’ heartfelt words at brunch flashing through your mind. “They’ve always been kind to me,” you admitted. “I couldn’t stand the thought of letting them down when they’re already dealing with so much.”

He studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “You really care about them, huh?”

You shrugged, uncomfortable with the shift in the conversation. “They were always good to me. That’s all.”

The server returned with dessert, a delicate plate of mochi and a pot of freshly brewed tea. Seonghwa gestured toward the dish. “Try the matcha one. It’s their specialty.”

You picked one up and took a small bite, nodding in approval. “Not bad.”

He laughed softly. “Not bad is high praise coming from you.”

You shot him a look but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

As the meal wrapped up, Seonghwa glanced at the time and stood. “Ready to head back?”

You nodded, following him out to the car. The night air was crisp, and the stars were faintly visible against the dark sky.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you glanced at him as he adjusted the rearview mirror. “You didn’t drink tonight,” you noted.

He flashed a quick grin. “Someone had to drive.”

You smirked. “Responsible and considerate. Who knew?”

He chuckled as he pulled out of the parking lot, the car humming softly as it began the descent back down the hill. “Don’t get used to it.”

The drive was quiet but not unpleasant. You found yourself stealing glances at him, surprised by the unexpected side of Seonghwa you’d seen tonight. He seemed focused on the road, his hands steady on the wheel, but his presence filled the quiet space between you.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he remarked after a while, glancing at you briefly before returning his attention to the road.

“Just… thinking,” you replied, shifting slightly in your seat.

He arched an eyebrow. “About what?”

You hesitated, unsure if you wanted to share your thoughts. “About tonight,” you said vaguely.

He chuckled softly, his lips curling into a small smile. “What about tonight? The food? The view? Or… me?”

You shot him a look, your cheeks warming slightly. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late,” he teased, the smirk not leaving his face.

Rolling your eyes, you turned your attention to the window, watching the city lights grow brighter as you neared Seoul. “I was just surprised, that’s all. Tonight wasn’t what I expected.”

“In a good way, I hope?” he asked, his tone suddenly less teasing and more curious.

You didn’t answer immediately, considering your words carefully. “It was… different. I’ll leave it at that.”

He let out a low laugh, shaking his head. “Always so guarded. You haven’t changed much.”

The comment made you stiffen slightly, your gaze snapping back to him. “And you think you know me so well?”

“I’ve known you for years, Y/N,” he replied, his voice calm but firm. “Maybe not everything about you, but enough to know how you are.”

The weight of his words hung in the air, stirring memories you’d long tried to bury. Memories of the nights you’d spent together in college, and the way he’d brushed it off as though it meant nothing.

You looked away, your voice quiet. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension, but Seonghwa didn’t push further.

As the car turned onto your family’s driveway, the mansion loomed ahead, its windows glowing warmly against the night. He pulled to a smooth stop near the front entrance, cutting the engine.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said, your voice a little more composed as you unbuckled your seatbelt.

He nodded, leaning back in his seat. “Anytime.”

You reached for the door handle but paused, glancing back at him. “Why did you take me there?”

He looked at you, his gaze steady. “Because I thought you deserved a real dinner, not something staged for appearances.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond.

“Goodnight, Seonghwa,” you said finally, stepping out of the car before he could say anything else.

As you walked toward the door, you could feel his gaze on you, lingering like a question you weren’t ready to answer.

-x-x-x-

The week flew by in a whirlwind of meetings and deadlines, and before you knew it, Friday evening had arrived. You found yourself standing in front of your closet, deliberating on what to wear to Yeosang’s 30th birthday party.

The party was being held at Mingi’s bar, a sleek and exclusive venue that was a favorite among your social circle. Yeosang, who you had known since he was still crawling around in diapers, had insisted on a lively celebration, and you weren’t about to miss it.

You finally settled on a fitted, navy cocktail dress with subtle sequins that shimmered under the light, pairing it with silver heels. After one final glance in the mirror, you grabbed your clutch and headed out.

When you arrived, the bar was already buzzing with energy. A live DJ played upbeat music, and laughter and chatter filled the air. The space had been reserved entirely for the party, with a section of tables arranged for gifts and a custom cake shaped like a stethoscope and a scalpel—a nod to Yeosang’s career. His family owned a chain of hospitals and he was a fourth year resident in neurosurgery. His mother was the doctor that took care of your mom’s pregnancy with you and your twin.

“Y/N!”

You turned to see Yeosang himself, looking dashing in a tailored suit. He greeted you with a wide smile, pulling you into a warm hug.

“Happy birthday, Yeosang,” you said, handing him a small, elegantly wrapped gift.

“You didn’t have to, but thank you!” He beamed, placing the gift on the table before turning back to you. “You look amazing, by the way. Are you planning to steal the spotlight from me tonight?”

You laughed. “Hardly. This is your night, doctor.”

As you exchanged a few more pleasantries, Hongjoong appeared beside you, his arm draped casually over your shoulder. “There you are,” he said. “I thought you’d back out last minute.”

“Not this time,” you replied, rolling your eyes. “It’s Yeosang’s 30th. How could I miss it?”

“Good,” Yeosang said, grinning. “Now, go grab a drink and have fun. You work too much, Y/N.”

You chuckled, nodding as you made your way to the bar.

At the counter, you spotted Nari sitting beside Yunho, her cheeks flushed as she laughed at something he had said. Yunho caught sight of you and waved.

“Y/N!” he called out. “Join us!”

You smiled and approached, Nari immediately scooting over to make room.

“Hi, Ms. Y/N,” Nari said cheerfully, her tone more relaxed than usual. “Isn’t this place amazing?”

“It is,” you replied, ordering a drink. “Mingi always outdoes himself. You don’t need to use honorifics with me, Nari, we’re not at work.”

Nari nodded with a smile. “I’ll try.”

As you sipped your cocktail, a familiar voice behind you made you turn.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Seonghwa said, his tone teasing.

He was dressed sharply, as always, in a dark blazer and slacks that complemented his broad shoulders. His hair was slightly tousled, giving him a more casual yet polished look.

“Seonghwa,” you acknowledged coolly, raising your glass slightly. “Surprised you made it.”

“Why? Because I’m such a workaholic?” he replied, smirking. “Even I take breaks occasionally, Ms. CEO.”

“Rare, but good to know,” you said, turning your attention back to your drink.

Hongjoong appeared moments later, clapping Seonghwa on the back. “Come on, man. Let’s go grab a drink and join the others.”

Seonghwa gave you a lingering glance before following Hongjoong into the crowd.

As the night went on, the music grew louder, and the atmosphere became more spirited. You found yourself chatting with old friends and acquaintances, laughing and catching up. But every now and then, you felt Seonghwa’s gaze on you from across the room, a quiet intensity that was impossible to ignore.

The music pulsed through the bar, the crowd thickening as more guests arrived. You were just about to grab another drink when you noticed a familiar face making his way toward you. Jaehwan.

“Y/N,” he greeted you with a bright smile, his presence as confident as ever. “Long time no see.”

You tensed slightly but masked it with a smile, trying to keep things cordial. “Jaehwan. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeosang and I go way back, you know? We work together now,” he said with a casual shrug, his dark eyes glimmering with a hint of amusement. “And with you being here, it’s the perfect chance to catch up. Can I get you a drink?”

You didn’t particularly want to spend more time with him, but you couldn’t exactly brush him off. “I’m good, thanks.”

He raised an eyebrow at your response, clearly not used to being turned down. “Oh, come on. Just one drink. For old times’ sake?”

You hesitated. The history you shared with Jaehwan was complicated. You had been together for years, but it was always an exhausting cycle of breaking up and making up, seeing other people in the middle, until one day, you simply couldn’t do it anymore.

“Honestly, Jaehwan, I’m not interested in reminiscing right now,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light but firm. “I’m just here to enjoy the party.”

Jaehwan didn’t seem put off by your words. Instead, his grin only grew. “You’re still as beautiful as ever, you know?” He leaned in just a little closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “I’ve seen you in the news and in interviews, but you’re even more stunning in person.”

Your eyes flicked away, trying to avoid the lingering gaze that made you uncomfortable. “Thanks,” you said, though you didn’t quite mean it. “I should get back to Yeosang.”

Before you could step away, Jaehwan reached out, gently placing a hand on your arm. “You know, I never understood why we ended things. We were so good together, Y/N.” His voice was soft, almost coaxing, as though trying to reopen a door you had carefully shut.

You stiffened, feeling your chest tighten. “We weren’t good together. Not in the long run.”

Jaehwan’s expression faltered slightly, but only for a second. “You’re still holding onto that, huh?” he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and frustration. “I thought we were past it. You never gave me a real chance to explain.”

You looked him square in the eyes, your heart racing. “There’s nothing to explain, Jaehwan. We both know how it ended. And why.”

His face softened for a moment, the charm slipping, replaced by something more genuine. “I was an idiot, Y/N. I know that now. I shouldn’t have played with your feelings like I did.” He paused, searching your face as if trying to read you. “But I’m here now. If you want to talk, start fresh... I’m open to it.”

You exhaled slowly, feeling your frustration rise again. You’d put so much energy into moving on from him, and here he was, trying to pull you back into his orbit. “I don’t want to start fresh, Jaehwan. I’ve moved on. I’m not interested in going backwards.”

His face tightened, though his smile never completely disappeared. “That’s a shame. I always thought we had something special.”

You shook your head, stepping back slightly, creating some distance. “We did. But that was a long time ago.”

As you took a step back to leave the conversation behind, Jaehwan called out, his voice softer than before. “I’ll always be here if you change your mind, Y/N. Don’t forget that.”

You turned on your heel, walking toward the other side of the bar, not wanting to hear any more. It had been a long time since you’d seen him, but the feelings his presence stirred up were all too familiar—frustration, confusion, and that lingering sense of unresolved tension. But you reminded yourself that it was okay. It was okay to feel whatever you felt. Six years of being with someone is a long time.

Meanwhile, across the bar, Seonghwa had noticed the exchange from a distance. He stood talking to Mingi, San, and Jongho, but his eyes kept flicking over to where you were conversing with Jaehwan.

“Who was that guy with Y/N? Seems familiar.” Seonghwa asked casually, though there was a slight edge to his tone.

Mingi followed his gaze. “Oh, that’s Jaehwan. He’s a doctor, works with Yeosang. He and Y/N used to date... for a long time, actually.”

Seonghwa’s lips tightened. “Oh. That was the guy?” He knew you were dating someone previously, but he didn’t really ask Hongjoong for any details before, and Hongjoong never told him anything about it. You kept your relationship strictly private, so there were no articles about this either,

San, ever the one to offer the juicy details, spoke up. “Yeah, they were on and off for years. Six years, I think. But they finally broke up for good. Y/N’s pretty done with him.”

Seonghwa’s gaze darkened as he watched Jaehwan take a step closer to you to talk to you again, leaning in just a bit too much for his liking. “I see. And he thinks he has a chance?”

Jongho raised an eyebrow, surprised by the fact that Seonghwa was concerned about you. “Sounds like it. But I wouldn’t worry too much, Seonghwa. Y/N doesn’t seem interested in going back down that road.”

Seonghwa didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still trained on you, the lines of his jaw tightening ever so slightly.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he muttered under his breath, his focus now entirely on the conversation unfolding between you and Jaehwan.

You were trying to shake off the lingering tension from your conversation with Jaehwan when you turned to the bartender and ordered a blowjob shot, hoping the sweet, creamy taste would ease your nerves.

Jaehwan, however, wasn’t finished. He leaned in again, the subtle scent of cologne still lingering around him. "I still don't understand, Y/N," he said with a low chuckle. "You and I could make it work again. I mean, we've always had chemistry, right?"

You gave him a tight smile, the first sip of the shot barely numbing the irritation bubbling in your chest. "Jaehwan, I told you already. I don’t think this is going to work out. Let’s just leave it at that."

But Jaehwan wasn't ready to let go. "Come on, you can’t just throw away everything we had. I know you still feel something, Y/N." His hand brushed your arm, a touch too familiar, and you fought the urge to pull away.

Seonghwa had enough, and he made his way through the crowd. He moved with purpose, his sharp gaze landing on you and Jaehwan, his posture stiff with a quiet authority that demanded attention.

Jaehwan, oblivious to Seonghwa's growing irritation, smiled as he leaned a little closer to you. "I know you and I had our issues, but—"

Seonghwa’s voice interrupted him, smooth yet firm. "I think you’ve had enough time with my fiancée."

You froze, Jaehwan blinking in surprise. “Fiancée?” He glanced from Seonghwa to you, confusion and curiosity in his eyes. “Wait, since when are you two—”

Without waiting for a response, Seonghwa took a step forward, his eyes never leaving Jaehwan. But it was his attention on you that made your heart skip a beat. As you took another sip of the shot, a small smear of whipped cream lingered on your bottom lip.

Seonghwa noticed, and before you could react, he reached forward, his thumb gently brushing against your lower lip to wipe away the cream. His touch was tender but purposeful, his gaze never leaving yours.

Jaehwan’s eyes widened in disbelief, clearly caught off guard by the intimate gesture. "What the hell?" he muttered under his breath, his posture stiffening as he tried to regain some control of the situation. “Who are you, again?”

Seonghwa’s voice was cool, yet there was a hint of something protective behind it. "I’m Park Seonghwa. Y/N’s fiancé." He didn’t give Jaehwan a chance to respond before adding, "We haven’t made our relationship public yet."

Jaehwan’s gaze flicked to your hand, taking note of the lack of a ring. "But… there’s no ring," he remarked, his voice edged with confusion. "Is this some kind of… business arrangement?"

Seonghwa’s lips curved into a slight smirk, the tension between them almost palpable. "Like I said, our relationship isn’t public yet," he said coolly, his eyes flicking to you for a moment before returning to Jaehwan. "We’re keeping things under wraps for now."

Jaehwan stood there, stunned and silent, his gaze shifting from Seonghwa back to you, as if trying to piece together the situation. He clearly hadn’t expected this turn of events, and his earlier confidence had evaporated, replaced by a mix of surprise and frustration.

You, on the other hand, found yourself caught in a strange moment of both relief and discomfort. Seonghwa’s intervention had put an end to Jaehwan’s persistence, but it also dragged you into a deeper web of lies you weren’t sure you were ready to untangle.

"Well," Jaehwan said after a long pause, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, "I’ll let you two be, then. Enjoy the party, Y/N." With that, he turned and walked off, leaving you and Seonghwa alone once again.

The atmosphere between you and Seonghwa felt heavy, and as much as you wanted to keep a cool, composed exterior, you couldn’t shake the tension in the air. Seonghwa had taken control of the situation, but now, it seemed like there were even more unspoken words hanging between you two.

Seonghwa didn’t immediately speak, but when he did, his voice was quieter, almost amused. "You’re welcome."

You shot him a look, not sure whether you should thank him or be frustrated. "What was that all about?"

Seonghwa shrugged, his expression unreadable. "He was getting too comfortable. You shouldn’t have to deal with that."

You couldn’t argue with that, though it still left a bad taste in your mouth. "You didn’t have to step in like that."

He tilted his head, his eyes softening for a brief moment. "I know, but I wanted to. And I’ll do it again if I have to."

You let out a small sigh, your heart fluttering in a way that confused you. The night wasn’t what you expected, but somehow, you weren’t sure you minded it as much as you thought you would.

Seonghwa turned toward the bar, signaling for another drink. "Come on, you need to enjoy the rest of the party. And besides, you can’t have your ex running around ruining your night."

Two shots later, followed by a series of light-hearted conversations with various people, and the buzz from the alcohol was finally starting to set in. The warmth spread through your body, making your head feel lighter, the edges of your thoughts blurring slightly. You leaned back in your seat, your laughter ringing a little louder than you intended, but for once, you didn’t mind. You could feel the weight of the night slowly drifting away, the constant tension easing off your shoulders.

Realizing you needed a break, you excused yourself from the crowd and made your way to the restroom. The cool air of the bar’s hallway seemed to clear your head for a moment, and when you returned, you didn’t feel quite as dizzy as before. You spotted the balcony just ahead, where a few people were gathered, some leaning over the railing, smoking and chatting. The fresh air felt good against your skin, and you welcomed the solitude, a brief reprieve from the noise inside.

You pulled out your phone, unlocking it and glancing at the screen. Yeri’s message was waiting for you.

Yeri: How’s everything going? Are you okay?

You couldn’t help but smile at her caring tone. You quickly typed your response:

You: I’m good. Just needed some air. It’s been a lot tonight, but I’m managing. I'll tell you everything later.

After sending the message, you leaned against the railing, letting the cool breeze calm your senses. The bustling sounds from the bar seemed far away, and you closed your eyes for a moment, letting the moment of peace sink in.

But of course, peace never lasted long.

You heard footsteps approaching, and before you could turn around, Seonghwa’s voice reached you, smooth and just a little concerned. "You okay out here?"

You opened your eyes and glanced at him. He stood just behind you, his posture relaxed but his eyes watching you closely, as though taking stock of your every movement. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or just the sheer intensity of the situation, but you felt suddenly bold—bold in a way you hadn’t felt in a while.

"Yeah, just needed a break from all the...," you trailed off, glancing back towards the loud, crowded bar. "Everything." You laughed softly, then, almost to yourself. "It’s kind of overwhelming."

Seonghwa nodded, stepping closer, the space between you narrowing slightly. "I get it. But you should be careful. You’ve had a few drinks tonight." His voice was softer now, gentler, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze directly, a flicker of challenge lighting your chest. "What, you think I can’t handle a couple of drinks?" The words were a little sharper than you intended, but the alcohol had given you the courage to tease him in a way you wouldn't normally do.

He smirked, his lips curving upward in that way that made your heart skip. "I’m not worried about you handling them," he replied, voice low and laced with something unreadable. "I’m just worried you might get too comfortable."

Your breath caught for a moment. It wasn’t the first time you had noticed how close he was now, his presence almost tangible, like he was becoming a part of the space you occupied. The air between you seemed to thicken, and for a moment, it was just the two of you, the buzz of the party a distant hum.

"Too comfortable?" you repeated, feeling the boldness rise within you like a wave. You took a step closer to him, unconsciously closing the distance, your eyes scanning his face, trying to decipher the sudden shift in his expression. "And why would that be a problem?"

Seonghwa’s eyes flickered down to your lips before returning to meet your gaze. The tension between you two felt palpable, like an invisible thread pulling you closer despite the divide you tried to maintain. He didn’t answer immediately, his silence only making the moment more charged, more electric.

"You’re a lot different when you’re not all business," he said quietly, the playful edge of his voice barely masking the undercurrent of something else. "Maybe I’m starting to see the real you, Y/N."

Your heart raced at the comment, and you felt your breath hitch in your chest. The alcohol had loosened your inhibitions, but there was something about the way Seonghwa spoke, something about the way he was looking at you, that made you forget for a moment why you were supposed to stay guarded.

You leaned in slightly, your eyes locked with his, and a teasing smile spread across your face. "Maybe you like what you’re seeing."

The words came out almost too easily, the playful challenge in your tone not entirely fake. You could feel your pulse quickening, the thrill of the moment swirling around you.

Seonghwa's eyes darkened just a shade, his lips curling into a smile that was both amused and intrigued. "I think you're right," he said, his voice low, as though he was daring you to take the next step, to push the boundaries further.

For a heartbeat, you two stood there, neither of you moving, the tension thick and humming between you. You had no idea where this was going, no clue what would happen next, but you knew one thing for sure: you were no longer just playing along. Tonight felt different. And the way Seonghwa was looking at you—it seemed like he felt it too.

The moment hung in the air, electric and heady, as the rest of the world seemed to fade into the background. You were suddenly aware of how close Seonghwa was, how much you could feel the heat of his body, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he inhaled deeply. Without thinking, you moved, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until there was barely any space between the two of you. His breath hitched slightly at the closeness, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.

"Why are we always in this situation when we've had a couple of drinks?" you asked, your voice quieter now, a bit more vulnerable. You could feel the weight of your words, the tension that had been building between you and him finally reaching its peak.

Seonghwa took a deep breath, his hands resting gently on your waist, and you felt a surge of something stronger—something that made you tilt your head just slightly, brushing your lips against his. "You're not going to want me if I make a move," you said, your voice lower, almost a warning.

"I've always wanted you," he whispered against your mouth.

For a moment, everything seemed to stand still—the world, the music, the people inside the bar—all faded away, leaving only the two of you standing in the cool night air. But then, just as quickly, you pulled back, your breath unsteady, your heart pounding harder than it had a moment ago.

"I'm not falling for that," you said, your voice strained, almost harsh, as if you were trying to distance yourself from the vulnerability that had crept in.

Seonghwa’s expression faltered slightly, and he reached out to touch your arm, as if trying to stop you from pulling away further. But you were already taking a step back, and you could see the hurt flash in his eyes, the confusion.

"I don’t want to resent you more," you whispered, your voice small, almost fragile. The words were like a knife to your chest, and as soon as they left your lips, you regretted saying them. The hurt was suddenly evident in your eyes, and the alcohol that had fueled your boldness before was now making everything seem more raw, more real.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened, and his lips parted as if he wanted to say something. But no words came, just the heavy silence that fell between you two. For a moment, you thought he might try to reach for you again, but you turned away, already feeling the sting of regret that followed your confession.

You didn’t wait for him to speak. You just turned and left him standing there, the cool night air around you suddenly feeling colder than it had before. You didn’t know what you expected from him, but what you knew for sure was that you needed to get away from this—away from the tension, the confusion, and the feelings that had begun to resurface.

You quickly made your way back to the entrance of the bar, trying to keep your composure. As you stepped inside, you spotted Hongjoong in the crowd, chatting with a few people near the bar. The moment he saw you, his eyes softened with concern.

"Ready to go?" he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, trying to mask the storm of emotions swirling inside you. "Yeah. Let's go home," you said, your voice quieter than usual. You didn’t look back at Seonghwa, though you could feel his presence lingering in the back of your mind, heavy and unrelenting.

As you and Hongjoong made your way out of the bar after saying your goodbyes to your friends, you tried to shake off the weight of what had just happened. You didn’t know how to feel about Seonghwa anymore, nor about the admission that had slipped from your lips.

-x-x-x-

End of Part One.

149 notes · View notes

armpirate · 2 months ago

Text

The Vows Between Us (Part 2) || San

Part 1

Pairing: Choi San x f reader || Arranged marriage

Warnings: angst, fluff, smut, dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex, teasing (Minors DNI. Refrain from reading if you aren't over 18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content).

Aprox. time of reading: 40/50 minutes

Summary: You thought it was over. The divorce papers had been signed, the marriage you never wanted finally behind you. You were free. Or so you believed. Months passed, and you built a life without him, a life where his name was just a whisper in your past. You even convinced yourself that the fire between you had burned out. Until he showed up at your door, with that same devastating smirk, with eyes that still held every war you had fought against each other. And with words that shattered the fragile world you had created "I never sent the papers." Now, you’re back in his world, back where it all began. But this time, it’s different. This time, it’s a battle of wills, of emotions too tangled to ignore. Because the man who once pushed you away is now pulling you closer. And the most terrifying part? You don’t know if you want to resist.

MASTERLIST

Two months had passed since that afternoon when San left the divorce papers on the counter, months since you signed them and stormed out of his house. You thought it was over. Final. You got the few things you had brought in your suitcase the first day you showed up there. You made sure to forget everything that was related to him.

He had made his choice, and you made yours -you walked away and never looked back.

That was the original plan, after all. You agreed on that arranged marriage, you both played the perfect couple and then you got divorced when he got the position he married you for. Several couples ended things after they realized they tied the knot way too early, so your case wouldn't stand out.

Life after him was quiet.

You slipped into a routine, convincing yourself this was freedom. The first three weeks, you tried to focus on yourself, you tried to find a job, you found someone new -a man with kind eyes, soft words, and no complications. He wasn't San, but that was the point. There was no fire, no chaos, no heartbreak lurking around the corner. You were finally getting that peace you had never been able to have.

You almost believed it was enough. Until you received his message:

"Come back. We have unfinished business"

For a moment, you sat frozen, staring at the screen, your pulse quickening. The message was too simple, too loaded with meaning. You'd spent months trying to rebuild your life, you spent months trying to forget about him and move on. Whatever unfinished business San thought you had was none of your concern.

You deleted the message.

It didn't matter. You weren't going back. You didn't know about him, but you were sure every business related to him was pretty much finished.

At least, that was your idea -until the doorbell rang.

You hesitated, your heart in your throat as you approached the door. You didn't know why, but the vibe you felt that day, the shiverings running up your spine, warned you not to open the door and just go on with what you were doing.

When you opened it, your world tilted and you knew you should've listened to your instinct.

San stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe, his eyes sharp and unrelenting, like he hadn't missed a single moment of your absence. His black suit clung to his frame, his expression unreadable, though there was an unmistakable heat in his gaze.

"Miss me?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with something darker, something possessive.

Your breath caught, but you quickly recovered. "What the hell are you doing here?"

His eyes flicked to your bare ring finger, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I think you know."

"No, I don't," you snapped, crossing your arms. "You signed the divorce papers, I signed the divorce papers. It's done. We're done."

San let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "No, Y/n. We're not."

Your heart stopped for a split second. "What are you talking about?"

He stepped closer, the air between you charged with tension. "I never sent the papers. I signed them, sure. But they never left my desk."

It hit you like a punch to the stomach. The past few months -the distance, the quiet life you tried to build- had all been based on a lie. You didn't know why you were so surprised, everything with San was always based on a lie.

"You've got to be kidding me," you whispered, your voice trembling with disbelief. "Why?"

San's gaze darkened, his jaw tightening. "Because I wasn't ready to let you go."

Anger bubbled up inside you, masking the ache in your chest. "You don't get to decide that for me."

"I think I just did," he said, his voice low and steady, the weight of his words suffocating. "And I'm not leaving until you understand that this..." he gestured between you. "...is far from over."

"You're insane," you said, stepping back to put distance between you. "I've moved on, San. I have a new life. Someone else..."

"Someone who isn't me," he cut in, his tone dangerously soft. "And we both know how that story ends."

"I don't care about what the fuck you do, but I'm not going back to you" you challenged him. "Don't want to send those papers? Fine, I'll get you to court if that's what you want".

"You can do that" he nodded "But I'm afraid it won’t turn out well for you" his smirk widened at your confused expression. "You know... You left our home, you didn't even come to pick up your things because you sent someone else instead" his eyes narrowed "Abandonment isn't well seen during divorce trials".

You didn't want to lose your temper, but your voice broke as you raised it to confront him "What fucking abandonment are you talking about? You have the divorce papers, you signed them first".

"What divorce papers?" he lifted his eyebrow. "It's a bit difficult to prove something when you don't have physical proofs".

Your blood was boiling, your body was trembling with rage and frustration. How could he dare coming back to your life that way? After everything he did to you? Why was he making things so difficult?

You clenched your fists, refusing to give in to the whirlwind of emotions he was stirring inside you. "You don't control my life anymore."

"No," San said, closing the space between you until you could feel the warmth radiating from him. "But you're still my wife, so get that pretty ass back home if you don't want to make things worse for you".

You stood there, frozen, as San's words settled in the air between you. The anger, confusion, and pain bubbled up inside you, but there was something else too -a flicker of uncertainty.

You'd spent months convincing yourself it was over. That you were free. But standing here, facing him again -looking into those eyes that knew you better than anyone else- it felt like you were right back where you started.

"I'm not going back," you said, but the words came out more fragile than you meant them to.

"Then don't," he replied, his voice soft but resolute. "But be ready for the consequences. We're still married, so I expect you to go back to our house."

You met his gaze, determined not to show him how much his presence unsettled you. You weren't going to let him have the upper hand again.

"Our house, my ass..." you muttered, turning to walk away.

But then, his voice stopped you. "I left the keys in your mailbox, Y/n."

You froze mid-step, the weight of his words sinking in. He wasn't just expecting you to return. He was staking a claim on your life once more, as if he'd never let you go in the first place.

Swallowing your pride, you turned back to face him. "If I ever thought of coming back, don't think for a second that I'm going to make this easy for you. The way I acted before would be a beautiful road in comparison. I'll make your life hell"

A faint smile tugged at San's lips. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

The way he turned with his ego on its full rise, as if he knew you'd do what he wanted, had you losing yourself when you closed the door. You wanted to burn that apartment down, you wanted to throw every heavy object at his head, you even wanted to bang your head against the wall and make all the thoughts stop. You understood the fury, but why was one side of you glad he showed up? Why the hell were you hopeful and relieved?

You were angry at San, but even more frustrated at yourself, because there wasn't a logical explanation for your reaction.

What the hell was going on with you?

The drive back to your old house was a blur, your thoughts spinning as you tried to make sense of everything. You had made the decision to return, but only because you knew you couldn't escape the pull he had on you -not yet. Not completely.

When you arrived, you hesitated before unlocking the door. The keys were still in your hand, their cold weight a reminder of everything that had happened between you two.

As you stepped inside, the first thing you noticed was the silence. The living room was too quiet, the space feeling too familiar, too... him.

And then you saw him.

San sat casually on the couch, his legs stretched out in front of him, a smug smile on his face. The thing that caught your attention, though, was the ring resting on the coffee table in front of him -your wedding ring. The same one you made sure to leave behind before slamming the door at the entrance and starting a new life -that you thought would last longer than just two months.

He watched you closely, eyes gleaming with an unreadable expression as he spoke, his voice low. "Welcome home, Y/n."

You didn't say anything at first, your gaze flicking from the ring to his face. The frustration and betrayal you felt were still fresh, but it wasn't enough to drown out the undeniable truth -San knew how to get under your skin like no one else.

You walked past him without a word, picking up the ring and slipping it onto your finger, the cold metal a reminder of everything you had once shared.

"Don't think this means anything," you said, your voice steady despite the storm brewing inside you. "I'm here, but I'm not yours. And I'm coming back with my conditions".

He smirked while arching his eyebrows, inviting you to share with him the ideas you came up with the twenty four hours you were apart.

"I'll keep my room, we aren't sharing a bed" you said first. "I want my space. I have enough with having to stay here until you get bored, I don't want to deal with your snores on top of it all".

His chuckle echoed in the four wide walls. He could give you back your room, it wasn't like he made any changes. Actually, he didn't dare to move a single thing whenever he got in there to sit at the edge and look around, since it was the only way to feel close to you those two months you were apart.

"We're married, but I'm living my life".

"That means fucking that new guy?" he arched his eyebrow, not amused by your second condition.

"That means having my own life, do and undo whatever the hell I want, leave this place whenever I please with no explanations. You want me here? Fine. But it'll be as if you had a piece of decoration".

"I want you here at eleven every night"

You froze at his petition, sure you didn't hear him well or understand him properly. Did he just say...?

"Go and fuck whoever you please, but at night I want you in your bed, under my roof" he calmly added.

He couldn't control who you were going to see, and it wasn't like it was going to be something to last forever -he was convinced you'd give up on any other men you had tried to meet after him the second you spent more time together again. It'd be as if you had never left.

He wanted to be relieved and calm, knowing that you'd be safe in his house. That was all he needed.

"And what if I don't want to?"

"I'm accepting your conditions, you should also accept mine" he cut you off, his glare rough as he drilled into your eyes.

"Fine..." you sighed. "The time I'm here, though, I don't want you to speak to me unless it's necessary. And I mean life or death situation" you tried to make yourself clear by adding that new condition.

"Now I can't speak to you?"

"You had a chance to and you didn't take it, now I don't want to hear anything, absolutely nothing, at all, from you".

Said that, you picked up your suitcase, walking upstairs to close yourself inside your old room, surprised at how the place even smelled the exact same way it did the day you left.

San's smile didn't fade as he leaned back on the couch, looking up at the short way you made to the first floor. "We'll see about that."

The first few days back in the house were cold and quiet -just how you wanted it. You stuck to your word, speaking to San only when absolutely necessary. If he asked a question, you answered with as few words as possible. If you crossed paths in the hall, you barely spared him a glance.

It worked... for a while.

But San wasn't the type to tolerate being ignored.

One evening, you were in the kitchen preparing dinner when you felt his presence behind you. He leaned against the counter, silently watching you as you chopped vegetables.

You ignored him, hoping he would leave.

He didn't.

The silence stretched between you like a taut wire, heavy and suffocating. Finally, San spoke, his voice low and deliberate. "Are you really planning on keeping this up forever?"

You didn't look at him. "We agreed to only necessary conversations."

"And this feels very necessary to me," he said, stepping closer. "Unless you're enjoying playing house in silence".

Your jaw tightened. "I'm not playing anything, San. I'm trying to survive living under the same roof as you".

His lips curved into a slow, maddening smirk. "Funny, because from where I'm standing, it seems like you're running away".

That did it. You dropped the knife onto the cutting board with a sharp thud and turned to face him. "Running away? From what exactly?"

"From me" he tilted his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "From whatever it is you're so afraid to admit."

"You're delusional," you said, crossing your arms. "Not everything revolves around you, San."

He took another step forward, and suddenly the space between you felt far too small. "No, but you're making it pretty obvious that something about me still gets to you" his gaze dropped briefly to your lips before locking onto your eyes again. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be working so hard to avoid me".

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you refused to back down. "I'm not avoiding you. I'm just choosing not to engage with someone who clearly can't respect boundaries".

San chuckled softly, but there was no humor in it. "Boundaries, huh?" his voice dropped an octave, dangerously low. "Tell me, Y/n... how long do you think you can keep pretending you don't feel anything when I'm this close?"

He was right in front of you now, his breath warm against your skin. Every instinct in your body screamed at you to push him away, to tell him he was wrong.

But you didn't move.

For a second, neither did he.

Then his hand brushed against your wrist, his fingers curling gently around it -not forcefully, but enough to send a jolt through your system. His eyes searched yours, waiting for you to tell him to stop.

But you couldn't.

The tension snapped, and before you knew it, his lips crashed into yours.

It wasn't soft or tentative -it was raw and desperate, a collision of anger and need that left you breathless. His hand slid up your back, pulling you closer as the world around you faded away.

For a moment, you let yourself get lost in it -the heat, the frustration, the undeniable pull that had always existed between you.

But reality hit just as hard, and you pulled back, breathless and shaken.

"See?" San whispered, his forehead resting against yours. "You can lie to yourself all you want. But you can't lie to me".

"No, that's definitely more your thing" you clapped back, making sure your back was glued to the counter, as if that would keep from making another mistake.

"You still think I lied to you?" his eyebrows momentarily arched, before his hand landed over the counter, bending his body slightly.

"I don't think so, I know it" you tilted your head. "Which makes me wonder what the fuck do you exactly want from me?"

"Do I have to spell it out for you?" he aimed to take a step closer to you, his hand slipping from the counter as he approached you.

Before he could reduce the distance to a palm, you quickly picked up the knife over the cutting board to threaten him with it, San instantly raising his hands in a mockery surrender pose.

"You treated me like a fool once. I'm not allowing you to do it a second time" you assure him, your eyes piercing through his.

You dropped the knife back to the counter, thinking it was going to be a better idea to just leave and have dinner somewhere else than stay in that house and stand his constant comments and silent looks.

The moment you left San standing in the kitchen, lips swollen from the kiss you still felt burning on your skin, you knew you couldn't stay in that house any longer, at least not when you felt so weak.

One wrong word and move, and you'd be back to a place you'd regret.

You grabbed your coat and keys, ignoring the pounding in your chest, and headed straight to Steve's apartment.

He answered the door within seconds, his brows lifting in surprise when he saw you standing there. "Y/n? What's wrong?"

You stepped inside, brushing past him. "I shouldn't have gone back to him. Moving into that house was a mistake."

Steve shut the door behind you, his expression hardening. "Did he do something?"

"No," you said quickly, though your voice wavered. "Not exactly. But... he won't let me go. He keeps trying to pull me back in, and it's suffocating."

You tried to ignore the fact that you didn't tell your boyfriend about the kiss. You could have, but for some reason you chose to hide that detail.

Steve gave you a soft look, his hand aiming for your arm to brush his fingers against the thick fabric of your coat. "Let's get you something warm first".

You played with the white cup in your hands, the steam from your hot tea almost reaching your nose.

"It's clear what he's doing" he thought out loud, his head shaking while still deep in thought. "He knows you're too strong to fall for his games, so he's trying to trap you emotionally. If you really want to get him out of your life, you need to hit him where it hurts".

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "San's entire identity is wrapped up in that company. It's what made your marriage necessary in the first place, right? He needed you to solidify his position as head of the company. So... why not disrupt that? Use the one thing that connects you both: his business".

The idea left you breathless for a second, the audacity of it hanging in the air. It was dangerous, calculated, and exactly the kind of move San wouldn't expect.

"You want me to ruin his position?" you asked cautiously.

"Not exactly ruin it," Steve said with a sly smile. "But challenge it. You have enough influence and knowledge to shake things up. Attend board meetings, make connections with the investors, prove that you are the real power in this relationship, not him".

Your mind raced at the possibilities. San had always thrived on control -especially in the business world. If you stepped into that world and took control of your own narrative, you wouldn't just be playing his game. You'd be rewriting the rules.

"I don't know..." you murmured, but deep down, a part of you was intrigued.

You wanted to fight back, but you weren't sure how the consequences of your actions could affect San in the future.

Hold on a second... Why were you even feeling sorry for him?

"Think about it," Steve said, leaning back with a confident grin. "If San wants to play power games, give him a fight he won't see coming".

You returned late that night, slipping back into the house like a shadow. San wasn't in the kitchen or the living room, but you felt his presence everywhere -watching, waiting.

As you climbed the stairs, your eyes drifted to the ring still sitting on the coffee table, gleaming under the soft light.

You ignored it and headed to your room, the resolve hardening in your chest.

This was war now.

San stood at the head of the conference table, his voice calm and commanding as he laid out his latest strategy to the board. His navy suit and confident stance made it clear who was in control. Every investor in the room hung on his every word.

Until the doors to the conference room swung open, interrupting him.

All eyes turned toward you as your heels clicked against the marble floor. San's smirk grew the moment he saw you. You were as beautiful as he kept thinking throughout the conference, that aura around you worked like a magnet. His attention had to be on you whenever you were in the same room -and even if you weren't. His eyes sparkled with mischief and curiosity, assuming you were here for a surprise visit.

But then you didn't stop by the door.

Instead, you walked to the far side of the long table, your expression composed and businesslike, not a single glance aimed at him. The room fell into a stunned silence as you looked down on the man who was sitting at San's right, your intimidating gaze immediately making him look to his left so everyone would move one seat away so his seat would be free for you.

Without a word, you took a seat, right next to San.

The tension in the room was palpable.

San's smirk faltered, his eyes narrowing as he watched you lean back in your chair, your fingers calmly tapping on the table. "Y/n," he said slowly, his tone low and questioning. "What are you doing here?"

You offered him a polite, professional smile, ignoring the flicker of warning in his eyes. "I'm here for the meeting, of course". You turned to the others, your voice clear and confident. "Good afternoon, gentlemen. You all must know, but I'm Y/n, and as of this morning, I'll be joining the executive board as the company's new Strategic Advisor".

San's jaw clenched. You could see the muscles in his neck tighten, though his expression remained otherwise unreadable. He leaned slightly toward you, his voice barely made it to your ears. "You've been busy, haven't you?"

You didn't blink. "I thought it was time I got involved. You keep insisting I'm your wife and such. You wanted me back at our house, so I think it's just fair I also take part in our business. You've always said we're a team, haven't you? You should be happy".

He straightened, eyes fixed on you, his mind running like crazy with all the thoughts in his head. "A team," he repeated, his voice dangerously calm. "Of course".

The meeting resumed, but you could feel San's eyes on you the entire time. Every word spoken, every decision discussed -it was all charged with tension. You chimed in occasionally, your remarks sharp and insightful, earning nods of approval from several board members, and casually opposing your husband's ideas or opinions.

By the end of the meeting, it was clear to everyone that you weren't just a pretty face in a designer dress. You belonged in that room, and you weren't going anywhere.

As the meeting wrapped up, the board members began to file out, offering you polite nods as they passed. San stayed seated, watching you with a carefully neutral expression. When the door finally closed behind the last executive, the silence between you became deafening.

"You've made your point," he said, his voice low and laced with something between admiration and irritation. "You had fun. Now go back home. This isn't a game".

You stood, smoothing your dress and giving him one last look. "Who said I'm playing a game, San? I'm just here to do what's best for the company".

With that, you turned and walked toward the door, leaving him sitting there -his eyes dark, his mind already calculating his next move.

That night, you barely made it through the front door before San's voice cut through the silence.

You swore things were being way too peaceful for it to be real. You left the company later in the evening, you spent time with your boyfriend, and then you went back home before eleven like San had conditioned you.

You didn't expect him to still be awake.

"You've got some nerve, Y/n," he said, leaning against the doorway of the living room. His tie was loosened, the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing a sliver of his collarbone. His dark eyes pinned you in place, burning with a mix of anger and something else far more dangerous.

You calmly slipped off your heels, pretending not to notice the tension radiating from him. "I don't know what you're talking about".

He pushed off the doorframe, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. "Really? Barging into my meeting, announcing your shiny new position in front of the entire board without telling me first? That wasn't just a power move, that was a declaration of war".

You crossed your arms, holding his gaze without flinching. "I'm only doing what's best for the company. Or are you threatened by me, San?"

His eyes darkened at the challenge, his jaw tightening. He stopped just inches away from you, his presence overwhelming. "Threatened?" he repeated, his voice dangerously soft. "No, love. I'm not threatened by you. But you should be careful".

You raised an eyebrow. "Is that a warning?"

His lips curled into a smirk, but there was no warmth in it "Call it... advice". He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your ear. "Because if you want to play games with me, you'd better be ready for the consequences."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" you shot back, refusing to back down despite how close he was.

He let out a low, humorless chuckle. "No, Y/n. I know you aren't scared of shit like that".

The air between you crackled with tension. For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in a dangerous standoff. Then, without warning, San's hand shot out, his fingers wrapping gently -but firmly- around your wrist.

"You think you can walk into my world and play by your own rules?" he murmured, his eyes locked on yours. "Let me remind you who taught you how to play this game in the first place".

Before you could respond, his lips crashed into yours, all restraint vanishing in an instant. The kiss was fierce, consuming, a clash of frustration and desire that had been building for far too long. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you against him as if daring you to push him away.

But you didn't.

Instead, you kissed him back just as fiercely, pouring every ounce of your anger and defiance into it. It was a battle neither of you wanted to lose, a fight that left you breathless and trembling.

You found yourself pulling him closer, your hands wrapped around his neck when he pushed you against the door to corner you.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His eyes burned with that familiar intensity -the one that always left you on edge.

"Tell me again," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "that you're not playing games with me."

You looked at him through hooded eyes, before you got back some strength to speak "I'm not. I'm just giving you the consequences of your actions".

After pushing him, you managed to walk away. You were paying him back with his own decisions, you were doing exactly what he told you to do -you even started wearing the ring again- only to make him regret everything he did to you.

Because, deep down, you weren't sure anymore.

But, as always, San changed the rules.

It started at the office. He didn't oppose your presence after a few days. Not only did he accept you working at the company, but he made it clear to everyone else that you belonged there.

"Y/n's perspective is valuable," he said during one of the meetings, his tone calm and confident, as though the two of you hadn't nearly torn each other apart the night before. "We'll benefit from her insight".

You blinked in surprise, not missing the way the other executives exchanged glances. San never shared control with anyone. Yet there he was, backing you up without hesitation, his demeanor warm and approachable.

You waited for him to pull some kind of stunt. To undermine you or push you into a corner. But it never came.

Instead, he stayed close -always helpful, always charming. He lingered by your office with coffee in hand, offering advice or casually checking on your progress. He praised your work during meetings, smiled at you in that disarmingly genuine way that made your stomach twist.

And he kept his distance -physically, at least. No more sudden touches. No more whispered words meant to unravel you.

But his eyes... his eyes never stopped watching you, never stopped waiting.

Every time you turned a corner, he was there. Every time you doubted your next move, he was one step ahead, guiding you with perfect timing. He was patient. Calculated.

He was making it impossible to hate him.

One late afternoon, after another meeting where San had spoken up in your favor, you lingered in the conference room, trying to process it all. The sun dipped low, casting golden light through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Something on your mind?"

You turned to find San standing in the doorway, his jacket slung over one shoulder, his sleeves rolled up. His voice was soft, almost casual, but there was a gleam in his eyes that betrayed his intent.

"Just thinking," you said, keeping your tone neutral.

"About how well we work together?" he asked, stepping inside and leaning against the table. "Admit it, Y/n. We make a hell of a team".

You narrowed your eyes. "You're up to something".

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Not this time. I meant what I said. I'm here to help you. I told you, we're partners now, we're a team. No games".

You wanted to believe him. You really did. But trusting San was like stepping into quicksand -you never knew how far you'd sink before it was too late.

Still... he was making it harder and harder to resist.

"I'll treat you to dinner" he moved his head, motioning you to walk with him.

But you froze. You already had plans, you were already meeting up with Steve to have dinner. But something in you couldn't hide the fact that you wanted to spend time with San -even if you saw each other all day now, it was never enough.

You could've said no and let Steve take you to the same restaurant you went to on Fridays, but you didn't.

"Uh, let me send an email real quick" you lied.

You took out your phone to let Steve know you wouldn't be able to meet him that night. It was the fourth time that week you stood him up. While the other times weren't related to your husband but work, they made you feel more regretful than that evening.

Twenty minutes later, you found yourself seated at a small, intimate table in an intimately lit restaurant tucked away from the city's busy streets. The place had an understated elegance -brick walls, warm lighting, the scent of freshly baked bread drifting through the air.

It wasn't flashy or extravagant. It felt... cozy. Unexpectedly personal.

San leaned back in his chair, watching you as the waiter poured wine into your glass. "Relax, Y/n. This isn't a business meeting".

You raised an eyebrow, swirling the wine in your glass. "Isn't it?"

"Not tonight." He rested his elbows on the table, his eyes never leaving yours. "I just want to enjoy your company. No business. No games".

You sipped your wine, unsure whether to believe him. The man sitting across from you was far too good at blurring lines, at slipping through cracks in your armor when you least expected it.

"So," San said after a beat of silence. "Tell me. How's your first week at the company been?"

"It's been... fine," you replied cautiously.

"Just fine?" His lips curved into a playful smirk. "Come on. Be honest".

You leaned back, crossing your arms. "Honestly? I expected you to be more of a pain in the ass".

His laughter was low and rich, drawing the attention of a few nearby diners. "I'm full of surprises".

"That much is true," you muttered, setting your glass down. "But I still don't trust you".

"Good," San said, his tone soft but serious. "You shouldn't".

That threw you off. For a second, his expression shifted -his eyes darkened, his smirk fading into something far more sincere.

"But maybe," he added, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine, "you'll give me the chance to change that".

You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. San had always been a master at keeping you on edge, but tonight was different. Tonight, his words felt less like a game and more like... something real.

The waiter returned with your meals, breaking the tension. The conversation turned lighter, San recounting an embarrassing story from one of his early days at the company. His laugh was contagious, his charm impossible to ignore.

For the first time in a long while, you found yourself lowering your guard -just a little.

But as the evening went on, you couldn't shake the feeling that San was always one step ahead.

You were halfway through your meal when San leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, his eyes gleaming with something you couldn't quite read.

"So... Steve," he said, his voice deceptively casual. "Tell me about him."

Your fork froze mid-air. His tone was light, but the question hit you with the force of a loaded gun. You set your fork down carefully, your gaze narrowing.

"What about him?"

San tilted his head, lips curling into a slow, almost amused smile. "You've been seeing him for... what? A few months?"

"Why does that matter?" you asked, sipping your wine, trying to appear unaffected.

He shrugged. "Just curious. Seems like a nice guy. The kind of guy who probably wears beige sweaters and helps old ladies cross the street". His smile turned sharper "Safe".

Your jaw tightened. "Yes, he is. Which is more than I can say for most people" you snapped back your attack clear.

"Wow, calm down. It wasn't meant as an attack" San chuckled, leaning back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. "Although... safe is boring. You're not boring".

"Not everything has to be chaos and fire, San," you shot back, your voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

He swirled the wine in his glass, studying you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. "No. But it's more fun, isn't it?"

You could feel the tension rising again, the air between you thick with unspoken words. He wasn't just curious -he was poking at something, testing you, trying to find a crack in the wall you'd built.

"I'm happy with Steve," you said, folding your napkin and placing it on the table. "And he's good for me. Unlike certain people who thrive on turning everything into a power game".

His smile faded for just a second, his eyes flashing with something darker. "You think I'm playing a game with you?"

"Aren't you always?"

San leaned forward again, his voice low, dangerous, and intimate. "If I were playing, Y/n, you'd know it. But I'm not. Not this time".

You stared at him, your heartbeat picking up pace. His words were a challenge -a direct, undeniable dare to see through his layers and figure out what he really wanted.

The waiter returned, breaking the moment as he offered dessert, but you waved him off. You needed air. You needed to get out before San could sink any deeper into your thoughts.

The cool evening air hit your skin as you stepped outside the restaurant, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You needed space -time to clear your head after that loaded conversation.

You had barely taken a few steps down the sidewalk when you heard the door swing open behind you, followed by the sound of his footsteps.

"Y/n," San called, his voice calm but commanding.

You didn't stop.

"I'm going home," you said without turning around. "Alone".

Because that was the only way you'd assure yourself you'd make your way to your room without letting San get in your head.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, easily catching up to you. "I'll drive you".

You stopped abruptly, spinning on your heel to face him. "I don't want your company".

San smirked, his hands sliding into his pockets as he stepped closer, his eyes gleaming under the streetlights. "I'm not asking for your permission".

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. "You can't control everything".

His eyes darkened, his playful demeanor shifting into something far more serious. "I'm not trying to control you" he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "But I'm not letting you walk away from me like that. Not tonight".

Your breath caught in your throat as he stood so close you could feel his warmth despite the chill in the air. His presence was overwhelming -intoxicating in a way that made you hate how easily he could unravel you.

"I really can't stand you" you muttered, turning to walk again. But before you could take another step, his hand gently wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in place.

"Let's go home together" he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. "Please."

The word caught you off guard. San rarely asked for anything. He demanded. But the way he said it now, with that rare hint of vulnerability, left you momentarily speechless.

Against your better judgment, you nodded, letting out a resigned sigh. "Fine".

The car ride was silent, the tension thick as San drove with one hand on the wheel, his other resting on his knee. You kept your gaze fixed on the passing city lights, refusing to acknowledge the way his presence filled the small space.

But when you reached the house, it was clear the night was far from over.

The car rolled to a stop in front of the house, the engine's low hum fading into silence. You hesitated for a moment before stepping out, your heels clicking softly against the pavement. San followed closely behind, his footsteps deliberate but hesitant -something you weren't used to from him.

He opened the front door and held it for you without a word, his eyes scanning your face as if searching for something. You stepped inside, your pulse quickening when you felt him right behind you, the air heavy with unspoken words.

"Y/n," he said softly, his voice raw and unfamiliar.

You froze in place, your back still to him, your hand tightening around the strap of your purse when you were able to recognize that tone in his voice. You didn't want to do this. You couldn't do this. Not now. Not after everything.

But San wasn't giving you a choice.

"I've thought about you every damn day," he said, his voice breaking ever so slightly. "Every night. Two months, Y/n. Do you know what it's like to feel haunted by someone who isn't even there?"

Your breath hitched, and you turned around slowly, meeting his eyes. His usual armor -the smirk, the cocky confidence- was nowhere to be found. Instead, he looked... tired. Vulnerable. And painfully sincere.

"I hated it," he continued, stepping closer. "And then there's that... Steve" he practically spat the name, his jaw tightening. "You think he's good for you? He's not. He'll never know you like I do. He'll never be able to keep up with you".

"San..." you started, but he cut you off.

"No," he said firmly. "Let me finish. I know I've made mistakes. I know I pushed you away when I should've done everything to keep you. And I know it's selfish to drag you back when you started to move on. But it drove me insane knowing someone else was filling the space I left empty" his voice dropped lower, almost a whisper. "I can't lose you. Not again".

His words hit you like a punch to the chest, every syllable unraveling the carefully constructed wall you had built over the past two months. Your throat tightened, tears threatening to rise, but you clenched your jaw, refusing to let them fall.

"Stop," you said quietly, your voice trembling despite your best efforts.

San's eyes flickered with confusion, but he obeyed, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"I can't hear this," you whispered, shaking your head. "Not now".

"Why?" he asked, taking another step closer, his eyes searching for yours.

"Because..." your voice caught in your throat.

You didn't know how to finish that sentence without exposing the feelings you were trying so hard to bury.

"Y/n," he said, softer this time, his hand reaching out as if to touch you but stopping halfway.

You took a step back, your heart hammering in your chest. "I need... I need space".

The room fell into a suffocating silence, the weight of his confession hanging heavy between you. San nodded slowly, his expression unreadable, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Okay," he said quietly, his voice barely audible. "I'll give you space".

You turned away quickly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill. But even as you walked toward the stairs, his words echoed in your mind, each one cutting deeper than the last.

The restaurant was warm and filled with life, but you felt cold, your thoughts miles away from the conversation. Steve sat across from you, his smile easy, his words familiar and comforting, yet you barely registered a word. Your mind kept drifting back -back to the house you shared with San, to the memories that clung to you like a second skin.

"Y/n?" Steve called gently, his brow furrowed as he leaned closer. "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. "Yeah, sorry. Just... tired".

But you weren't tired. You were haunted. Haunted by the way San had started chipping away at your carefully built walls without even trying.

The mornings when you'd come down for coffee, and he'd already be there, leaning casually against the counter, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, holding out a cup he'd made just the way you liked it.

"Morning," he'd say, his voice low and husky from sleep, a knowing smile tugging at his lips when your fingers brushed as you took the cup.

The way he'd linger close -always too close. Passing by you in the hall of your office, his hand grazing your lower back, his touch sending sparks up your spine. Or how his eyes would follow you in meetings at the office, dark and intense, making you forget what you were supposed to be saying.

And the nights. The nights were the worst.

"Do you always work this late?" San had asked one evening, standing in your doorway, his tie loosened, his eyes tired but warm.

"I like working late," you had replied, barely glancing up from your laptop. But you'd felt his presence, the air charged with that electric tension.

"Liar," he'd muttered under his breath with a chuckle, disappearing down the hall before you could respond.

Every little thing he did had felt deliberate -small, intimate gestures that blurred the lines you had tried so desperately to draw.

And now, sitting across from Steve, you felt the weight of those memories pressing down on you like a tidal wave. You weren't the same person who had walked out of San's life two months ago. You had been reshaped, little by little, without even realizing it.

"Y/n, we need to talk" Steve said suddenly, his voice cutting through the fog in your mind. Those words brought you back instantly "I've noticed... Y/n, I think something's changed between us".

You looked up at him, startled. "What do you mean?"

He studied you for a long moment, his expression soft but knowing. "You seem... distracted. Distant, even. And I don't think it's just work. We barely see each other, and it's always one excuse after the other. And the little we get to see each other, you wear that fucking ring like you're actually married to him" subtly, your eyes moved down to your hand.

He was right. The first time it happened, Steve pointed it out with a joke. But the second, the third time... he noticed something was off with the way you started becoming more attached to that piece of jewelry. He noticed how you were distancing yourself from him, as if you never wanted to move on from the person who put it on you in the first place.

"I..." you tried to deny it, but the words caught in your throat.

"You're in love with him," Steve said gently, his eyes sad but honest.

Your breath caught in your chest, your pulse racing.

"No, I'm not," you said quickly, too quickly. "It's complicated".

Steve leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "No, it's not. It’s pretty simple, actually. You're still wearing his mark in every part of your life, even if you don't see it. And maybe you've convinced yourself that you've moved on, but trust me... you haven't" he sighed, his back resting on the backrest. "When we started seeing each other, I thought you'd eventually forget about him. But now that he's back, I can see it even clearer on you. You think of him the way I think of you".

His words stung because they were true.

"I... I don't know how I feel about San. But you're right about one thing: I think about him the way I wished I thought about you" you sighed. "And I've been so selfish with you, so unfair... It shouldn't have taken me this long to realize".

Or maybe you did realize earlier, but you just clung to the idea that the stability Steve kept offering you was all you ever wanted. You tried to cover up your feelings with what you wanted.

"I'm really sorry for putting you in this position, I'm really sorry for hurting you and making you waste your time. I shouldn't have..."

"I knew what I was doing when I first walked in" Steve smirked. "It was also my choice to stay. I just hope he can be better and make you the happiest, because it's the only thing you deserve, Y/n".

Your heart broke when you watched him getting up and walking to you, his lips leaving a small kiss on your forehead before he started walking towards the exit.

It was over.

The front door clicked shut behind you, the soft sound of the lock sliding into place echoing in the quiet house when you came back home. You kicked off your heels, your jaw tight and your mind a tangled mess of emotions. Your heart raced -half from the lingering tension with Steve, half from the anticipation of seeing San.

The lights in the living room were turned on, you didn't need to catch a glimpse of San sitting on the couch to know he was there, his elbows were resting on his knees, his dark eyes locked on you the second you stepped inside. He looked like he'd been waiting for you, his jaw clenched, his tie loosened around his neck, the top buttons of his shirt undone.

He was indeed waiting for you. You arrived one hour late to the time you first agreed on your conditions, and his mind was already racing with all the things you could be doing, or the things that could've happened to you.

"Late night?" he asked, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

You froze, your pulse quickening as the weight of the conversation you'd just had with Steve pressed down on you. "Don't start, San. I’m not in the mood tonight".

He stood, taking slow, deliberate steps toward you. "I'm just curious. Did your boyfriend have something interesting to say?"

You glared at him, your fingers curling into fists at your sides. "This is none of your business".

He chuckled bitterly, his eyes darkening. "None of my business? You live in my house, Y/n. Everything about you is my business".

"You're unbelievable," you shot back, your voice rising. "I live in your house because you wanted it that way. We're still married because you wanted it that way. You made me your business because you're fucking insane" you snapped back "Yet I'm the one who owes you explanations and details?"

San stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "You do owe me an explanation, at the very least. You disappear for hours, come back with that look on your face, and I'm just supposed to act like it doesn't bother me?"

"It shouldn't!" you snapped. "This marriage is a lie, San! You don't get to be jealous or possessive. Fuck fuck's sake, you shouldn't even be worried. You said it yourself! It's meaningless, remember?"

He flinched at your words, his eyes narrowing. "You're really going to throw that in my face again?"

"You gave me no choice," you hissed. "I'm just playing by the rules you set, San".

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you crackling with tension. His eyes flickered with something you couldn't quite place: frustration, anger, and something deeper, something dangerous.

"Fine," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "If that's how you want it".

You turned on your heel, heading for the stairs, your heart pounding in your chest. But San wasn't finished.

"You can run upstairs and lock yourself in that room all you want," he called after you. "But you can't keep avoiding this forever".

You didn't respond, your footsteps heavy as you climbed the stairs. When you reached your room, you slammed the door shut and leaned against it, your chest heaving.

The truth was, you were more terrified of not running.

Terrified that if you let him close again, you wouldn't have the strength to push him away.

Weeks passed, and the house felt colder with every passing day.

The distance between you and San had become a silent war -each of you too proud to surrender, too stubborn to bridge the gap. Every interaction was brief and transactional, your words clipped, your glances fleeting.

And yet, he was always there. Always watching. Always close enough to remind you that no matter how much space you tried to put between you, it was never enough.

Tonight was no different.

You stood in front of the mirror in your bedroom, applying the final touch of lipstick. The buzzing of your phone vibrated on the dresser -a message from your friends confirming the plans for the night.

You slipped into your heels, grabbed your jacket, and headed toward the door. The house was unusually quiet, but you barely noticed. You were halfway down the stairs when San's voice, low and groggy, stopped you in your tracks.

"Where are you going?"

You turned to find him leaning against the doorframe of the living room. His hair was tousled, his face pale, and he clutched the front of his shirt as if he could barely stand. His eyes met yours, and for a split second, you hesitated.

"Out," you said slowly, your brow furrowing. "Are you... okay?"

San groaned softly, staggering toward the couch and sinking onto it with a dramatic sigh. "I don't think so... I've felt off all day. I didn't even go to work".

When you didn't see him in the office, you thought it was because he was avoiding you as hard as you were avoiding him.

But you were wrong.

You crossed your arms, watching him closely. He looked convincingly miserable -too miserable, almost.

"You seemed fine earlier," you said, raising a brow.

You did catch a glimpse of him when you came back from the office. Truth was that you didn't pay enough attention to him, while he was lying on the couch, to tell whether he was really sick or just having a lazy day.

"I've been sick all day" he muttered, rubbing his forehead as if the weight of the world rested there. "Maybe it's a fever. Or worse. Who knows? I might not even wake up tomorrow".

You narrowed your eyes. "Are you seriously faking being sick to keep me from leaving?"

His head shot up, a spark of offense flashing in his eyes. "What? No!" he coughed -a little too perfectly timed. "I would never. I just thought... maybe you could stay. You know, in case I need... help".

A short laugh escaped you despite yourself. "Help with what? Tucking you in?"

San's lips curved into a small smirk, the sickly act slipping for a second. "Well, since you're offering..."

You shook your head, exasperated. "For real...."

He leaned back into the couch, his expression softening as he looked up at you. "Come on, just stay. Just tonight" his voice dropped, quieter, almost vulnerable. "It's been a while since we've had dinner together. I'll make it worth your while".

Something about the way he said it made your pulse quicken. His eyes -dark and earnest- locked onto yours, and suddenly, you were questioning whether you wanted to leave at all.

You sighed, glancing at the door one last time before slipping out of your heels and tossing your jacket onto a nearby chair. "Fine. But only because I don't want to come home and find you passed out on the floor".

San's eyes lit up for a brief second before he coughed again -weakly, almost theatrically- and leaned back on the couch like he was barely holding on. "I knew I could count on you".

You rolled your eyes, walking over to the other side of the room. "What do you want for dinner?"

"Takeout. Whatever you feel like," San said, already reaching for his phone. "My treat".

It wasn't long before the smell of food filled the house. San had ordered your favorite dishes, and despite yourself, you couldn't help but appreciate the thoughtfulness. The two of you sat cross-legged on the living room floor, cartons of takeout spread between you, soft music playing in the background.

He passed you a pair of chopsticks, his fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary. "You're too quiet tonight," he murmured, his eyes lingering on you. "What's on your mind?"

You gave a noncommittal shrug, focusing on your food. "Nothing much”.

"Liar," he teased, nudging your leg gently with his knee. "You always get that look when something's bothering you".

"You're imagining things," you replied, taking a sip of your drink.

He watched you for a moment, his playful smirk fading into something softer. "I missed this".

Your breath hitched slightly, but you quickly masked it. "You mean tricking me into staying home while you fake a near-death experience?"

San chuckled, a warm, genuine sound. "No. I mean... being with you like this. Talking. Eating. Just... being".

You hated how easily his words unsettled you, how they made your carefully constructed walls tremble just a little.

"Don't get used to it," you muttered, trying to sound indifferent. "You're not that convincing, by the way".

His brows lifted. "What do you mean?"

"You forgot you were supposed to be sick about twenty minutes ago".

San froze, his chopsticks hovering mid-air, then laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Guess I got caught up in the moment".

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Uh-huh. Caught up in ordering half the menu and devouring it like you haven't eaten in a week?"

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "I haven't eaten in a whole day... almost. I needed to be convincing".

"You keep proving how crazy you are" you said dryly, but you couldn't stop the small smile that tugged at your lips.

As the evening stretched on, the atmosphere grew warmer, more intimate. You leaned back on the couch, full and content, while San sat beside you, his arm resting on the back cushion, his fingers just barely grazing your shoulder.

He didn't say much after that, just watched you in quiet contemplation, his gaze unreadable but steady, like he was trying to memorize every detail of this moment.

And for once, you didn't pull away.

"After all these months... I still don't know why you agreed to marry me" he said out of the blue, catching you off guard. "You're old enough to refuse. What could've your parents done to you? Block your cards?"

Your feet hesitated over the edge of the coffee table, while those memories came back after being left to the deepest area in your brain.

"I don't know. And I didn't want to risk learning it" you mumbled. "Sometimes I think they adopted me to trade me for something better" you scoffed, saying those thoughts out loud for the first time. "You can say all my life since I moved with them was about that. I was never a daughter, but an object to exchange. It's okay though" you sighed "I learned to live like that".

San stared at you for a few seconds in silence, drinking in every expression, every small gesture that gave out more of your feelings.

"I never thought of you that way" he admitted. "Before we married, I was attracted to you. Really attracted, I mean... You have no idea the amount of times that..."

"San, stop" you chuckled, attempting to hide your face behind your palms.

"What I mean is that our marriage just helped fasten things. Then I started to know you more after we moved in together, and I swear I've never been more lost with someone else before. Every little thing, even things I thought I already knew, made me feel like I was rewriting you all over again. I think... I started falling for you much earlier than I should've. And God, it felt so fucking good".

You could just stare at him as he spoke, trying to find a hint on how he was playing you, but there was nothing at all.

"But then... then you overheard me talking to Wooyoung... I knew the second I saw your face that I'd ruined everything. I hated myself for it. Every damn day after you left, I cursed myself for not stopping you".

Your breath caught in your throat. The sincerity in his voice, the cracks in his carefully guarded composure... It was too much. Too real.

"I just want you to know that I didn't say those things to hurt you," San began, his jaw tightening. "I didn't feel them. I could never feel them. I said them because I thought I was protecting you".

"Protecting me?" you blinked, confusion flickering across your face.

"My father started getting suspicious of us when I kept dodging the topic every time he brought up the divorce. And it got worse when I suggested you to become part of the company, because you're brilliant and you have amazing ideas, and you'd add so much by doing what you love... And you proved it these weeks. But my father thought that maybe I was getting too invested in you, and having us involved together in something else would only make it harder for us to part ways. I didn't want you to become a target, I didn't want you in between the crossfire".

You crossed your arms, trying to maintain your composure. "So your solution was to tell Wooyoung that I meant nothing to you?"

"I panicked. Wooyoung and his mother have a tight connection with my father, so maybe if I reassured him that everything was as always..." San admitted, his voice cracking just slightly. "I thought if I made it sound like it was all just business, like I didn't care... it would all stop. My father would leave you alone, and we'd be able to keep going for a little longer until we got strong enough. No one would question your success, and with just a little more time we would've gotten strong enough to get through everything. I didn't realize how wrong I was until it was too late".

He ran a hand down his face, his frustration evident. "It backfired in the worst way. You heard it, and it broke us. I would've taken it back in a heartbeat if I could".

"What changed now? Because I doubt your father was happy with the idea of having me back".

"It's worse to have you away, and share you with someone else, than going through a war against my father to keep you in my life" he whispered. "When I signed those papers... I was so angry at you, but I was angrier at me, because I thought I wasn't going to be able to protect you. And then you signed them as well, and I couldn't find the courage to file them and present them in court. It was the only thing that kept us together".

You leaned back against the couch, folding your arms tightly across your chest, trying to put some distance between yourself and the raw vulnerability in San's eyes.

"The first week, I tried to get you out of my head and convince myself that it was for the better. I kept postponing presenting the files until I realized I didn't want to".

You opened your mouth to respond, but the way San's gaze darkened made you stop short. He pressed his lips into a thin line, as if weighing what to say next, before finally leaning closer -too close.

"I gave you space, I let you live your life" he said, his voice low, almost dangerously calm. "But you didn't really think I'd let you go, didn't you?"

Your pulse quickened, unease spreading through your chest. "What are you talking about?"

San tilted his head, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "I never stopped keeping tabs on you. Not once. Those months we were apart? I knew exactly where you were, what you were doing... and who you were with".

Your heart stopped. "You... what?"

San shook his head, his expression almost regretful. "I wanted to let you move on at first... but the second I saw him holding your hand, touching you like you were his, I couldn't stand it. So I made sure he wouldn't last long in your life." he paused, leaning closer. "Did you ever wonder why Steve's company suddenly lost that big contract? Why he became distant, out of nowhere?"

Your stomach churned. You had wondered. You remember the big turn in Steve's personality after that, but you two managed to get him back on the right road.

"You..." your voice shook with rage. "You almost ruined his career just to... what? Keep me single?"

San's jaw tightened. "To bring you back where you belong" his voice softened, his eyes blazing with something raw and possessive. "With me" he sighed, slightly throwing his head back "When you didn't break up after that, I knew I needed to do something else. And that was why I showed up looking for you and bringing you back".

Your breath caught in your throat, torn between fury and disbelief. "You're sick in the head".

"Maybe," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you can't deny that part of you wanted to come back. Even now, you're still here. You're still mine."

Your hands clenched into fists as his words settled like poison in your veins. "Mine." That one word snapped something inside you, sending you spiraling between anger and something far more dangerous.

Shit... why was your body feeling lighter after his confession? Why were you so eager for his lips? Why did his twisted actions work to make your heart beat faster for him?

"I know you're feeling the same way even if you're with that prick" he whispered, his fingers softly tracing your jaw.

He shifted closer to you, his thigh pressing against yours, rubbing your skin over your tights. He looked into your eyes, and you could feel a spark ignite between you. "Y/n, love," he said softly, "I've been an idiot. I'm sorry."

San leaned in, his lips gently brushing against yours, instantly getting them to part as if he had thrown a spell on you. You closed your eyes, feeling the warmth of his touch, getting lost in the rush when he finally linked your lips together. It was slow, gentle, as if he was afraid you'd move away. But slowly, your lips sucked on his, your lower lip molding in between them, the kiss deepening as your tongues explored each other's mouths, the mere contact making the two of you moan. San's hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, making sure there wouldn't be a single inch between your bodies.

After the distance between you, he couldn't tolerate any physical space.

"You taste so good," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. "I've missed this".

You moaned softly, your lips still brushing his, your body responding to his touch. "I've missed you too," you finally admitted, your voice breathless.

When you kissed again, you could feel the air shifting, the tension turned into something heavier, something that almost made you eat the other alive.

San's hand moved up to cup your breast, his fingers gently squeezing while his thumb rubbed against your nipple through the fabric of your dress. Shocked by pleasure, you stopped the kiss to bite his lower lip for a few seconds, the time it took you to control your own moan. "Is this what you want?" he asked, his voice a low growl, when you finally released his lip.

"Yes," you whispered, your voice filled with need. "I want you".

San's hand moved to the hem of your dress, slowly lifting it up, his warm palm covering every inch of skin he went through as he moved it up. And every centimeter of skin that was exposed made you eager for more. You raised your arms when he pulled the elastic fabric up enough, allowing him to remove it completely. San leaned down, his lips capturing one of your nipples through the lace of your bra, having your back arching and your body surrendering to him as you rested against the backrest of the couch. You moaned, your hands tangling in his hair to make sure he wouldn't move away.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his hands moving to unclasp your bra. "I could touch you all day".

Your bra fell away, and San's hands replaced the lace, cupping your bare breasts with an eroticism that had your breath catching in your throat. He kissed you again, his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands explored your body, he wanted to make it clear you were his. Not to you, but to his own self. Your hands moved to his shirt, unbuttoning it slowly.

"I want to feel you," you whispered, your fingers tracing the muscles of his chest.

San moved away shortly, just enough to allow you to remove his shirt completely. He unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers. Your eyes widened as you saw his hardened bulge, straining against his briefs.

"You're already like this?" she chuckled, looking up to his eyes.

San smirked, hooking his thumbs into his briefs and pushing them down. "You keep underestimating the power you have over me, love. My whole body reacts for you".

Your hands moved to your tights, pushing them down along with your panties. San kneeled on the couch, his hands moving to your thighs, taking you by surprise when he leaned in, his tongue flicking against your clit.

You gasped, your body bucking against his touch. "S... San," you moaned, your hands tangling in his hair.

His tongue continued to explore you, his fingers joining in, sliding in and out of her wetness with a slow motion that had you sinking deeper on the couch. Your moans filled the room, your body writhing against his touch.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with desire, before licking again.

As minutes passed, you could feel your body tensing, your high crashing over you with such intensity that you saw white for a mini second. San's tongue continued to move, drawing out your pleasure, not wanting to move away from you. Your muscles relaxed, although not entirely, because you were back at that state of arousal that had you edging for more, your breath coming in ragged gasps.

San stood up, his hands cupping your face to stop you before your mouth could reach his length. You looked up at him, your eyes filled with all the filthy things you wanted to happen.

You wanted him.

"I have to be inside you first" he bent over to kiss you. "It's the only right way to do it".

His hands hooked below your arms to pull you up, to quickly move around your waist and your nape to link your lips once more. His touch felt as if he wanted you to become one: the way he kept sticking your body close to his, the way his hand on your hair tangled around the locks to pull you deeper for the kiss, the way his nails scratched your back... It was more than just love.

You'd have walked blindly towards your room if you hadn't stumbled and fell over the stairs. Neither of you knew whether it was the need or hunger, but neither of you got up. San made sure to place you so you'd be sitting on the step while your back and head resting on the others, with his body barely making it on the edge to fit in between your legs.

He positioned himself at your entrance, his dick sliding in slowly. You moaned, your body adjusting to his size after so long. San began to move, his hips thrusting against yours slowly at first, trying to memorize the feeling, the way your walls wrapped around him so good that he almost forgot how to breathe.

"You feel so good," he groaned, his voice filled with pleasure.

Your hands moved to his back, your nails digging into his skin while your legs wrapped higher on his waist. "San, please," you moaned, your body arching against his.

You didn't know to specify what you wanted, he already knew. San's thrusts became more forceful, his body slamming against yours. You didn't even care how the edge of the step kept hitting against your back, that pain became part of the pleasure at some point. Your moans filled the hall, your body responding to his touch in a way it hadn't before. "Yes" you moaned, your body tensing as another wave of pleasure approached. "San" your voice cracked.

San's thrusts became erratic, his body tensing as he tried to control his own release from coming. But it was so hard, he ended up spilling himself inside you, his hips sloppily moving while his dick twitched wrapped around your walls, his lips seeking for yours to let you know he wasn't done.

Somehow, you made it to his room, the bed looked like a battlefield from all the turns and shifts, the sheets stained with sweat and something else.

Your body collapsed a third time over the mattress, your moan prolonging a bit longer while you tried to catch your breath. It was like a reward for getting him hard again when you sucked him off through his release during the second round.

Your ears beeped, your sight was blurry, but the only thing your over sensitive body could feel was the way his body collapsed on top of you, his body shuddering with his orgasm.

You laid there for a moment, your bodies entwined, his face hiding in the curve of your neck while he whispered the most devoted words to your ear. He rolled off of you, just to pull you close. You snuggled against him, your body still humming with pleasure, ignoring the rational part of your brain that was asking you to leave.

You'd have plenty of chances to act that way. During that night, you just wanted to be with him.

"I love you, Y/n," he whispered. "Even if you hate me for what I did, even if your heart belongs to someone else. I fucking love you, Y/n. And I doubt I'll ever be able to feel the same way about someone else".

The sunlight filtered gently through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stirred awake, the weight of last night pressing down on your chest as memories flashed through your mind: San's confession, the tension, and how everything had unraveled after, how you tried to ignore it as he hugged you closer to help you fall asleep.

For a second, you hoped it had been a dream, but the faint hum of activity outside your bedroom told you otherwise. San was already awake.

You sighed, dragging yourself out of bed and into the bathroom to freshen up. The silence in the house was oppressive, a sharp contrast to the heated exchange from hours before. After throwing on something casual, you padded barefoot into the kitchen, where you found him leaning against the counter, a mug of coffee in hand.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Morning," he said, his voice low, almost cautious.

You nodded, walking past him to pour yourself a cup of coffee. The air between you felt suffocating, thick with words that had already been said, and some others that were left unspoken.

"Did you sleep well?" San asked, breaking the silence.

You glanced at him briefly. "Fine".

He took a slow sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving yours. "About last night..."

"Let's not," you cut him off, your tone firmer than you intended. "I think we've said enough".

His jaw clenched, but he nodded, stepping aside as you moved toward the fridge. You grabbed some fruit, peeling it in silence, feeling his eyes on you the entire time.

"Are you really going to pretend it didn't happen?" he finally asked, his voice steady but laced with frustration. "What I said, what we shared... it wasn't nothing".

You set the fruit down with a soft thud, turning to face him. "I'm not pretending it didn't happen. I just don't know what you expect me to do with it".

"I expect you to stop running," he said, taking a step closer. "To stop hiding behind your walls every time things get complicated. Fuck, I thought we were getting somewhere".

"And I expect you to stop playing with my life," you shot back. "You've been controlling everything since the beginning, how am I supposed to trust this isn't just another game to you?"

He looked genuinely hurt for a moment, his expression softening. "It's not a game," he said quietly. "It's never been a game. You're the only thing that's ever felt real in all of this".

His words made your heart twist painfully, but you pushed it aside, unwilling to let him see how deeply they affected you. "I need time," you said again, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can't just flip a switch and forget everything that happened”.

San's shoulders sagged slightly, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable. "I get it," he said after a pause. "Take all the time you need. But I'm not going anywhere".

You stared at him for a long moment before turning away, grabbing your coffee and heading back to your room.

You thought that would be the end of the conversation, at least for now. But San had never been one to back down so easily, and deep down, you knew this was far from over.

Later that evening, the house was unusually quiet. You sat on the edge of the couch, staring blankly at the television, not even registering the images flashing across the screen. The weight of everything that had happened lingered heavily between you and San, who sat a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you rather than the show.

"Y/n," San said softly, breaking the silence. His tone was different -calm, almost resigned. "We need to talk".

You turned to face him, your heart tightening at the serious look in his eyes. "About what?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers laced together. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by something more vulnerable. "I've been thinking... maybe I've been holding on too tightly".

Your breath hitched slightly, but you kept your expression neutral. "What do you mean?"

San looked at you with a mix of sadness and determination. "I've forced you to stay. Dragged you back into my life without giving you much of a choice. I thought it was what I needed to keep you close, but... I can see how much it's been tearing you apart".

You opened your mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to stop you. "Let me finish," he said gently. "If you want to go, I won't stop you this time. No tricks, no conditions. I'll set you free" his voice caught slightly on the last word. "I just want you to be happy, even if that means it's not with me".

The air seemed to leave the room all at once. His words, so final, hit you harder than you expected. For months, you had wanted exactly this -a clean break, a way out. But now that he was offering it, your chest tightened painfully.

"You're... serious?" you asked, barely above a whisper.

"Yes," he said quietly, his eyes searching for yours. "I'm tired of forcing you to stay in a place you don't want to be. I love you too much to keep you trapped here".

Your throat constricted to the raw emotion in his voice. His confession hung in the air, making it nearly impossible to breathe. You wanted to say something -anything- but the words wouldn't come.

For the first time, it felt like the walls you had built around yourself were beginning to crumble, piece by piece. And it scared you more than anything.

San smiled faintly, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'll leave you alone tonight. You can think about it. Just... let me know what you decide".

He stood slowly, his steps heavy as he walked toward the hallway. You watched him disappear around the corner, your chest tightening more with every step he took.

Alone in the silence, you realized that maybe, just maybe, the thing you were most afraid of wasn't staying with San -it was losing him entirely. You fell for him too long ago, you refused to see it even when Steve threw it at your face, and now you were scared of the aftermath of building all those walls around you.

The tension had been eating you alive for days. Each passing hour only made it worse. San had given you space -too much space- and the longer you waited, the more you hated it. You had tried to convince yourself that you needed time, but deep down, you knew the truth. You didn't want time. You didn't want to be free.

You wanted to be with him.

The realization hit you like a freight train as you found yourself pacing outside his company's headquarters. This was reckless -completely irrational- but you didn't care.

With your heart in your throat, you pushed through the glass doors of the building, ignoring the curious glances from employees as you made your way to the top floor. The elevator ride felt endless, every second ticking by with the weight of everything unsaid between you.

When the doors opened, you strode into his office like a storm. His secretary tried to stop you, stammering something about an important meeting, but you barely heard her. Nothing mattered except getting to San.

He was in the middle of a conversation with a group of executives when you burst through the door. His head snapped up, eyes widening in shock. For a moment, the room fell into stunned silence.

"Y/n?" his voice was calm, but the confusion and flicker of hope in his eyes betrayed him.

You didn't respond -not with words, at least. You crossed the room in long, determined strides, your pulse racing. The executives glanced at each other, murmuring awkwardly, but you didn't care.

You stopped right in front of him, your gaze locking onto his, while your hands were holding the divorce papers he kept in his office. You ripped the papers, throwing them over his desk. Then, without a second thought, you grabbed the front of his suit jacket and pulled him down into a kiss.

It wasn't gentle or hesitant. It was fierce and all-consuming, filled with every emotion you'd been holding back for months -anger, longing, love. San froze for half a second before his hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with equal intensity.

The room erupted in gasps, but the world faded away. There was only him -his warmth, his scent, the way his lips molded perfectly to yours.

When you finally pulled back, breathless, San's eyes searched yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"I don't want a divorce," you said, your voice trembling but determined. "I don't want to leave. I want to be with you, San. I want to love you, I want the freaky sex and the cozy nights in, the boring days and the full family pack. I want you".

A slow, almost disbelieving smile spread across his face. His grip on your waist tightened slightly. "Say it again," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of your pounding heart.

"I want you," you repeated, tears welling in your eyes. "I love you".

San pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that".

The executives were still awkwardly lingering nearby, but San didn't seem to care anymore. He leaned down to kiss you again -softer this time, filled with the promise of everything yet to come.

He pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, "Let's go home." When he turned to the executives, all of them were dedicating him a confused look "We'll retake this tomorrow morning. As you can see, my wife needs me".

San intertwined his fingers with yours, leading you out of the office without a second glance at the stunned executives. His grip was firm, almost desperate, like he was afraid you might slip away if he let go.

Neither of you said a word on the elevator ride down, tension crackling between you like a live wire. His thumb traced absent circles on the back of your hand, a gesture that felt far too intimate for someone who had just promised to set you free days earlier.

Once you stepped outside, the cool evening breeze hit you, but it did nothing to calm the storm raging inside you. San's black car was already waiting at the curb. He opened the door for you, his eyes dark and unreadable, and you slid inside without hesitation.

The ride home was thick with silence, but not the cold kind you'd endured for weeks. This one was heavier -charged with everything still left unsaid. Every glance he stole at you from the driver's seat only made your pulse quicken, while his smirk grew when he felt the muscles on your thigh tensing under his touch as he reached for it.

When you arrived back at the house, San barely waited for the door to close before pulling you into him. His lips found yours again, urgent and demanding, as he backed you against the wall in the entryway.

"I meant what I said," you whispered between kisses, your fingers curling into the fabric of his blazer. "I'm not leaving".

San rested his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. "Good," he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. "Because I'm never letting you go again".

His hands moved to cup your face, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the intensity in his eyes. "Do you know how many times I've imagined you coming back to me like this?" he whispered, his thumb brushing across your cheek. "How many times I regretted pushing you away?"

"Then don't push me away this time," you said softly, your own voice trembling.

A flicker of vulnerability crossed his face -a crack in his carefully built armor. "I won't," he promised. "Not ever again".

He kissed you once more -slow and deliberate, savoring every second as if he were trying to memorize the feel of you all over again. And this time, it wasn't just a kiss filled with heat and passion. It was filled with something deeper -something neither of you dared put into words just yet.

"Come with me," San said, his voice low and inviting. His fingers laced with yours again as he led you upstairs, his steps steady but purposeful.

This time, there were no barriers between you. No distance. No hesitation.

You were back home.

Months had passed, and spring wrapped the city in soft sunlight and blooming flowers, a perfect backdrop for what was meant to be a "first-anniversary celebration" in everyone else's eyes. But to you and San, this was more than a party. This was your real wedding -a chance to do things right. No forced arrangements, no hidden agendas, no resentment. Just the two of you, ready to start again.

The preparations had consumed you for weeks, but for once, you didn't mind. Every decision felt personal now -every detail a piece of who you had become together. The venue was an intimate garden, bathed in warm light and adorned with white roses, soft candles flickering on every table. Guests mingled, clueless to the significance of the ceremony.

You stood in front of the mirror in the bridal suite, your heart racing as you smoothed down the lace bodice of your gown. This time, there was no hesitation, no dread weighing down your steps.

A knock at the door broke your thoughts.

"Come in," you called softly.

The door opened, and San stood there, already dressed in his tailored black suit, looking devastatingly handsome. His tie hung loose around his neck, as though he'd been too restless to finish getting ready.

"You're not supposed to see me before the ceremony," you teased, smiling despite the fluttering in your chest.

"I know," he said, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. His eyes softened as he looked at you. "But I couldn't wait. I needed to see you".

He walked toward you, stopping just short of touching you. His eyes roamed over your face, his expression shifting from admiration to something deeper.

"You're beautiful," he whispered. "But more than that... you're mine".

You felt your throat tighten at the sincerity in his voice. "San..."

"I know this is just an anniversary party for everyone else, but for me... this is it. This is our real beginning," he said, his voice low and earnest. "No pretenses, no games. Just us. I love you, Y/n. More than anything".

Your breath hitched at the words -so simple, yet so powerful. You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his.

"I love you too," you said softly. "And I can't wait to marry you. For real this time".

A rare, boyish smile spread across his face. "Then let's go out there and do it right".

As you walked down the aisle moments later, everything felt different from that day months ago. This time, his eyes didn't carry worry or uncertainty. They were filled with warmth and love, unwavering as they locked on you.

And this time, when you reached him at the end of the aisle, it felt like the happiest day of your life.

The soft hum of a string quartet filled the air, blending with the scent of fresh roses as you stood across from San. His hand was steady in yours, his eyes never once leaving your face. The officiant spoke gently, inviting you to share your vows.

San had already said his -a tender, heartfelt confession of love and promises, full of words you never imagined hearing from him when your marriage first began. You barely managed to hold it together. But now, it was your turn.

Your throat felt tight, and for a moment, your eyes flicked to the guests seated around you. Then back to San. Only him.

You took a deep breath, your voice steady despite the rush of emotions flooding your chest.

"I've thought a lot about this moment," you began, your eyes locking on his, "what I'd say if I ever got the chance to do this right. The truth is... I didn't believe this would make me so happy when this all started. I didn't believe we'd make it. We were too different. Too stubborn. Too much like enemies who refused to surrender".

San's lips curled into a faint smile, his grip on your hand tightening just slightly, encouraging you to continue.

"And yet," you said, your voice softening, "somewhere in the middle of all that chaos, you became the person I didn't want to live without, you showed me a love and support I haven't ever seen in anyone else. I tried to fight it, I really did. But every time you stood by me -every time you pushed me to be stronger, even when I hated you for it- you made me realize something: I wasn't scared of you. I was scared of how much I needed you".

The air felt thicker, the world narrowing until it was just the two of you. San's eyes glistened, though he said nothing, waiting for you to finish.

"I love you," you confessed, your voice trembling now. "I love your strength, your loyalty, and your ridiculous determination to win every argument. I love how you see through me, even when I try to hide. I love how, no matter how hard I push, you always pull me back. So today, I'm choosing you again. Not because I have to. Not because of expectations. But because I want to. Every day, for the rest of my life... I want you, San. And I promise to always fight for us -just like you've always fought for me".

The guests seemed to vanish in the background, replaced by a heavy, electric silence. San's thumb brushed over your knuckles, his eyes filled with something raw and overwhelming. He leaned in slightly, his voice barely audible.

"You've just ruined me," he whispered with a soft, breathless laugh.

You cleaned each other's tears while smiling, your touch feeling as raw and sensitive as never before.

The officiant, or more like someone you hired to play it for that party, smiled knowingly. "I think it's time to seal these vows with a kiss."

San didn't hesitate. His hand cupped your cheek tighter, drawing you in for a slow, tender kiss -one filled with promises and beginnings, a far cry from the fiery, desperate kisses you had shared before. This one was different.

When you pulled back, breathless and dazed, the crowd erupted in cheers. But San only had eyes for you. And you only had eyes for him.

Taglist: @brown88, @youcanstayalways

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