thinking about ... san who uses you as a pillow .ᐟ
you barely make it halfway onto the bed before SAN collapses on top of you like a wwe wrestler. “san—” you gasp, trying to fight for air as his weight sinks into you, arms already wrapping snugly around your waist.
“i missed you.” his voice is muffled against your chest, his broad shoulders nearly swallowing your frame whole as he burrows deeper like a sleepy little kitten. “couldn’t sleep right last night, because my shoulders hurt again.”
you sigh upon hearing this, threading your fingers through his dark hair, it’s not the first time he is telling you this, but you are the only person that makes it comfortable enough to endure the pain. “i told you to try sleeping on your back, or stomach.”
“i can’t,” he groans, nuzzling against your collarbone. “my shoulders are too wide, and i just keep rolling over… i almost fell from the bed.”
he’s ridiculous, like literally utterly ridiculous, but at the same you can’t really blame him for not getting a decent sleep. “so what, i’m your pillow now?”
“the best pillow,” he murmurs, pulling you closer somehow. “so soft and warm, smells like strawberry chocolate cake, and you scratch my scalp just right—ah, there, like that…” he practically purrs under your touch, muscles relaxing beneath your fingertips as you gently massage his head. his biceps flex slightly as he shifts, dragging your leg over his hip like a possessive little monster. clingy, much?
you raise a brow, not because you are not used to this, simply because it comes out of nowhere, and very abruptly. “sannie, you’re being needy today.”
“i’m always needy,” he says without shame, cuddling into your warmth, smiling against your exposed skin. “especially with you.”
rolling your eyes, pretending to be annoyed, however, your hand doesn’t stop moving through his hair, and your fingers trail down his bare arm, tracing the lines of his muscle with just enough pressure to make him twitch.
“also, i’d like to file a complaint.”
“hmm?”
“you’re making it really hard to focus on your face when your arms are out here lookin’ illegal.”
he lifts his head, a grin that reaches his eyes, even making his dimples come out of hiding. “oh? baby, do you mean these?” he flexes, just slightly, watching your eyes follow the movement.
you swat him, not hard enough, but just enough to make him stop teasing you. “san, stop that! you’re too pretty and you know it.” he laughs, before ducking back down to kiss the side of your neck: gentle, lingering, stupidly in love. “i love you, you know?”
you pause, fingers threading through his hair again. “yeah, i know, and i love you too.”
but it still hits you like it’s the first time every time. when san says those three words, you forget about everything, when you look at him, he is the only one you think about. he may be a lovesick idiot, but you are crazy in love. “and i love your stupidly wide shoulders,” you murmur into his hair. “even if they’re the reason i wake up squished half the time.”
at that moment, you felt him relax, and yes, he was asleep. san always falls asleep quickly when you are here next to him, can’t blame him, you do smell like strawberry chocolate fresh cream cake, oddly specific but that’s just san for you.
you beg for his hand on your throat in the middle of sex. and san isn't ready for that, not yet, not until he does a little research.
style: bullet drabble
pairing: non idol!san x fem!reader
word count: 2.5k
tags/warnings: smut, pwp, breath play / choking, kink research, body worship, mirrors, pussy obsessed choi san, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, rough sex / passionate sex, creampie, discovered desires, two kinky idiots in love
notes: this one was a request from my bestie, carrie. i know, i know, i need to write more of boyfriend choi san!! i hope this does the prompt justice~
[masterlist]
Of the two of you, you’ve always been the kinker one. San knows this.
It’s part of what makes you so magnetic to him, part of the physical pull that yanks him back into your orbit day after day.
It’s not just about the sex, it’s about everything. The way you know what you want, the way you say it, the way you feel everything, deep in your marrow.
He never has to guess with you, never has to wonder if you’re happy, or tired, or feeling like sushi, or if whatever he tried in bed worked or not. You tell him, he knows.
Despite your appetites, your intensity, you’d never push him past his comfort zone. You’ve always made that clear, but no matter what, San is sweet. San is open, San is quite frankly fucking obsessed with you, and he always wants to try.
So when you beg for his hand around your throat in the middle of sex, frantically chasing your orgasm, and you feel him freeze up, you don’t push for it or demand it, you just guide him.
He’s never choked anyone before, he’s never even really thought about choking someone before.
But you’re panting under him with that look on your face, your hands in his hair as you lift your hips to meet his thrusts, and like all the other times, he wants to try.
You drag his hand up from your hip, over your waist and skimming along your ribs, a drag of his sweat slick skin over your sternum, settling his palm over your throat.
And he freezes.
“There,” you gasp, “San, please, please,”
He looks at you like you just cracked the earth open beneath him.
And -
He leaves his hand there, that’s all he can do.
His palm spread over your throat, no pressure, no grip. Nothing to take your breath away, just the warm weight of it where you needed it.
It still makes you moan.
“Is,” He pants, still rolling his hips, “Is this okay?” He’s uncertain, and he’s completely overwhelmed.
You nod, mouth open and eyes wide, something pulling in your expression that is so desperately needy that it hits him - You want this. You really, really want this.
He keeps his hand there, soft, a placeholder. It’s a promise he doesn’t quite know how to keep yet, but he sees your hunger, and at least for now he acknowledges it.
He makes you come like he always does, his cock thick and warm inside you, fingers rubbing tight little circles between your legs, his lips everywhere, breath hot on your skin.
He leaves his left hand on your throat the entire time.
And you fall apart under him, shaking, moaning and utterly satisfied, but if you’re being honest there’s still that piece missing, that thing that would make you feel fulfilled.
For the first time in your long relationship, he sees it.
After, you say nothing. You kiss the underside of his jaw and tell him you love him, and you step away from that kink as just another in a list of things you don’t want to pressure him too much for. On this one, you stay quiet. You fold it back into yourself and keep it for your alone time, your porn preferences, something to fantasize about when he’s away.
San spends the whole night tossing and turning, playing over the scene in his mind.
The way your eyes crinkled up, the way you felt wetter than you’ve ever been.
He’s hard again just thinking about your face like that, the way you clenched around him.
Your desperate “please”, and his name, it plays on a loop and it just won’t go, no matter how much he tries to think of other things.
In the morning, he lets regular life things distract him.
He makes you breakfast, he goes to the gym, he runs a few errands and sends you countless texts that have nothing to do with your needs, even with sex, just normal relationship stuff like what you want for dinner and if you saw this funny video.
In the back of his mind though, it’s there. Your pupils blown wide, mouth open, breath tight.
So when he gets home and he’s alone, he finds himself on forums. Message boards, sex-positive kink blogs, the deeper he dives the more he finds. Pressure points, risks, techniques, safety checks.
He’s shocked at how much information there is, he’s shocked at how many people love this.
He’s shocked at how hard he is sitting at his desk trying to pretend this is just research.
He practices with his hand on his own throat, finding the soft sides that control blood flow and how too much pressure on the front of his neck makes him need to cough, clear his throat, and take a long sip of water.
He learns fast: thumb and forefinger, collarbones, trachea, carotid artery.
He thinks he should be going to medical school for all the things he’s learned about blood flow and oxygen to the brain, but he catalogues it all.
He doesn’t bring it up the next day, or the one after that.
You feel it in the way he looks at you though, something in the quiet focus behind his eyes. You don’t know what he’s been wondering about, but he’s been thinking constantly, and his eyes have been trained on you now more than ever.
It shifts on a random Thursday, after dinner on the couch and the end of the new drama you’ve been watching together. He kisses you like he always does, and then he touches your hand, “Come with me,”
You follow him, drawn to the back bedroom with him, unsure of what he’s been thinking until he stops you in the middle of the room.
Your eyes glance to the bed, expecting sex, expecting where you always go.
With warm hands he turns your body until you’re facing the full length mirror.
Something pulls low in your belly.
His hands rest on your shoulders, and his breath is warm against your ear, “Take your clothes off,” he says, “I want to watch.”
Your heart stutters, but you obey, slow and silent, peeling off your trousers from work, unbuttoning your blouse.
He watches the whole time, eyes fixed on your hands.
When you’re down to your underwear and you pause he nods, “All of it, baby,”
You strip the rest, wetness pooling in your core already.
Kissing your shoulder, then your neck, his hands soft on your hips, and then his eyes flick up to catch yours in the reflection.
“The other night,” He kisses again, slow, “you asked for something new,”
You freeze, your breath quickening.
He takes in your expression, and you see the curve of a smile on his mouth as he lets his lips travel to your shoulder, then back up, “I didn’t know what to do then,” he admits softly, “but I do now.”
Your breath catches.
San wraps his arms around you, bringing you back into his broad chest, and then slowly he reaches around, his hand coming to rest warmly over your heart.
“If this is something you want,” He brushes against your skin with his thumb, “I can do it,”
“Y-yes,” You nod, eyes blown wide with want, “I want it,”
His hand slips up and rests over your throat, “Tonight?”
“Yes,” You answer clearly, unequivocally.
“Okay,” He kisses your temple, and squeezes his hand just once, just enough to make your breath skip and your knees go weak.
He doesn’t fuck you right away.
He takes his time, he worships you.
You know the promise of it is coming, but for now he takes you apart the way he likes.
He guides you to the bed and works your cunt with his mouth like he was made to do it, the only man who’s ever made you forget your own name with his tongue inside you, lips on your clit.
He warms up you with the kind of passionate obsessive kisses you’ve grown to love from him, until you’re rutting your cunt on his thigh and begging him to do the thing he promised he would do.
It’s then that he lifts you, turning you in his hands like you weigh nothing, pushing you right to the edge of the bed with his body seated behind you, knees spread wide around your body caging you in.
He draws your eyes up, and you see yourselves reflected back.
“Look,” He whispers it, nipping your ear, “Look how much you want it,”
You can only manage a nod
He hooks your legs over his, fucking you with his fingers slow and deep, rubbing you over and over until the sound of your messy cunt in the room has you moaning, gripping his thighs for purchase.
His free hand stays steady at your throat, and then slowly he presses.
Your mouth falls open, eyes rolling, your body melting back into his arms as you shudder.
You make a tight, needy sound, your voice vibrating against his fingertips.
“I got you,” He promises, eyes locked with yours in the mirror, “just let go,”
Your orgasm hits you so hard, completely without warning, your thighs snapping shut and your body wrenching in his arms as you shake, melting into boneless tremors.
The second your breach catches funny, his hand releases, and he slides you both back onto the bed.
His fingers smooth back your hair
“Jagi, Jagiya,” His voice rough, “you okay?”
You tell him it’s perfect, you tell him it was everything, and Choi San just laughs.
A wide grin as he hugs you, kisses peppered over your hair.
Tipping you back into the bedsheets, lips on yours, stealing your breath another way -
“I’ve been thinking about this,” He confesses, nuzzling your nose with his, “I wanted to make it perfect for you,”
“It was,” You breathe, “God, San,”
As you reach to him, he catches your wrist with gentle pressure and pins it back to the mattress, “Let me,”
You go still.
You melt.
He presses one kiss to the inside of your wrist, and then trails his mouth lower, teasing, getting you wetter and needier until you’re pulling at the front of his shirt and begging.
“Sannie, please,”
“There it is,” He sighs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “you sound so pretty, baby,”
Your stomach flip flops, muscles tense and aching for more, and then his hands fall to his belt and you shiver.
“Are you ready?” He pulls the leather loop free and tosses it aside before sliding down his zipper, his cock straining against the fabric.
“Yes, god,” You shiver as he pushes his pants down enough to free himself, “you’re so fucking hard,”
“I’ve been picturing this all week,” He laughs, confessing it honestly as he settles himself between your splayed knees, “I feel like I’ve been hard for days,”
Your breath catches when his cock nestles between your folds, but you blink up at him, “You liked it?”
He nods, lip caught between his teeth as he sinks the head of his cock inside you, “Liked it,” he nods, “liked the way it made you fall apart more,”
“Oh, fuck,” You grip the sheets, “baby,”
“I’m… I’m going to try to take my time, but jagi,” He sinks his cock in, shuddering at the feeling of your warm, tight walls, “I need you,”
“Me too,” You breathe, “please, just fuck me, we’ll figure it out later, I just need,”
He sinks forwards before you can finish your babbled sentence, and his cock pushes in deep, his hands closing around your wrists and maneuvering you so that both are held tightly in one of his hands, interlocked over your head.
“Oh,” Your hands clench, body jerking with nowhere to go.
“Tell me you need it,” He nods, sweat beading on his brow.
“I need it,” You beg him, your voice sinking into thready want, “please, please, San, I can’t,”
His eyes close, a warm exhale from his lips.
“I can’t,” You whisper, barely sure of what you’re saying.
But San knows, like he always does, he sees the way your eyes prick with tears and the way your chest is heaving under him in fits and starts, he knows.
“You can,” He murmurs, “I know you can,”
He kisses you so sweetly it nearly undoes you, but when your lips part, his free hand finally slides up and over your throat.
“Oh god,” You nod, mouth falling open, “please,”
He squeezes, careful and measured, and the sound it pulls from your chest makes him groan.
“Oh, baby,” He whispers, watching you relax under his hands, flushed and panting and his.
He holds your wrists together over your head with one hand, the other still wrapped perfectly around your throat, and his thumb strokes against your pulse.
Your breath catches, hips twitching under him.
“You look so good like this,” He says, his voice trembling, “god, you don’t even know,”
Your cunt clenches around him, and you know you’ll come fast, he can feel it. Your thighs are still trembling, hips tilting up to chase sensation.
Finally, he leans in, forehead pressed to yours, and his hips roll deep and slow.
“I just want to make you feel good,” He pants, “you’re everything,”
You whimper, your eyes going glassy.
His hand around your throat presses, perfect pressure on either side of your throat, your head buzzing.
Pleasure arcs up your body, and you move together.
Your hips jutting up to meet every thrust, the weight of him pressing you into the sheets.
His hand stays a steady controlled pressure on your throat, not too much, not too little.
Your breath is thin, dizzy pleasure rolling through your mind.
“Come for me like this,” He begs, watching your expression turn soft and pliant, “let me feel it, come on my cock just like this,”
Your orgasm hits so hard you lose your breath entirely, a headrush taking you under until you’re crying out, body locking up and jerking against his tight hold. You arch, shaking as you crack open, chanting his name on your lips.
“Oh, fuck,” You hear through the haze, “I’m, baby, I’m right there,”
You take a hitched, pleasured breath, your walls clenching around him and then he’s coming too.
He moans into your neck, collapsing over you, his hand releasing pressure but never leaving your throat while the other loses its grip on your wrists, clinging to the sheets as he pumps into you hard, chasing his release, staggering out his pleasure as your hips connect again and again.
You gasp, your lungs finally filling with fresh air, chest shuddering beneath him.
He’s shaking above you, but he kisses across your face, gathering you close, “You okay? Did I hurt you?”
You shake your head, gripping the back of his shirt, “Perfect, so perfect,”
He exhales hard in relief, a firm kiss to your forehead, “You’re okay?”
“I’m–,” You feel your body limp in his arms, “so good, I don’t, I can’t,”
He smiles, kissing your lips just once, “So we can do this again?”
You smile, your hand tracing a line down his cheek, “Yeah, baby,” you breathe, “we can do this again.”
Synopsis; You’ve been dating choi san for months now, never suspecting your boyfriend is actually your long-time obsession– Nightwing. When his late-night disappearances spark jealousy, you confront him, only to have him reveal the truth…and claim you in no doubt in who he belongs too
✧——wc; 6.5k
✧—— genre; Erotic Romance, Superhero AU, Established Relationship, Mystery/Smut
✧—— tw; MDNI!!! Dom/ Sub Dynamics (San as a controlling, possessive dom), Possessiveness & Marking/ Claiming, Breeding kink, Fingering & tit play, Spanking (impact play), Mild dumbification (reader gets called names, praised/ teased in a way that reduces her to a pleasure focused state), Rough sex (Including in costume), Apology Kink (Sexual punishment for doubting him), Light restraint ( reader held in place), Dirty Talk, Daddy kink, Pet names (e.g., daddy, baby, sweetheart), Mirror Play / Exhibitionism in private setting, Multiple Climaxes / Synchronized Sex, Sensory Focus / Body Worship, References to Superhero Identity / Nightwing
A/N: Okay guys, if you didnt know, I love Batman and I'm a big kpop fan. Inspired by the nightwing fancast debate on tiktok going on, I decided I wanted to push my hard take on this. Even though San is Korean and is currently perfecting his English, I feel like he could be a perfect nightwing. The body’s tea, they have the same build, and idc what anyone says nightwing is an asian man idc!!! 😌😌ALSO U GUYYYYYYSSSSS!!!! TYSM FOR 500 LIKES!!! I love you guys sm !!💋❤️ update: it’s come to my attention that ppl use ai to write their fics, I just wanted to clarify that I was unaware of grammarly being ai. I only use it to correct spelling mistakes and for a word count. I will stop using grammarly furthermore and find better ways to correct spelling and getting a work count. I deeply apologize and hope u guys understand! - linovvsss
You and San have been dating for months now. You first met on the bustling streets of Metropolis, a hectic morning interrupted when he accidentally bumped into you and sent your coffee spilling all over your clothes. Flustered and apologetic, he immediately offered to clean you up—and insisted on buying you a new coffee. Sitting across from each other in the nearby cafe, conversation flowed in effortlessly, laughter bridging the awkwardness of your first encounter.
Over time, the casual meetings blossomed into dates, and dates deepened into a steady, passionate relationship. You shared the details of your daily lives—him working in a stable position under the multi-millionaire Bruce Wayne, and you serve as a nurse at Metropolis General Hospital. San was attentive in ways that made your friends envious; he remembered the smallest things you said, lingered in touches that made your skin warm, and spoke to you in a tone that was always just a little too smooth, a little too commanding, like he knew you’d obey if he asked for more. He had a way of making you feel both cherished and claimed. The way he’d hold your chin to make you look at him when you were distracted, the low timbre of his voice when he called you baby, the faint pressure of his hand at the small of your back—everything about him hinted at control, yet wrapped in warmth.
⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑
It was one of those rainy Metropolis nights when the city’s lights blurred against the slick pavement, and you were walking home after an exhausting late shift. Your mind wandered to San, wondering if he’d stayed up to wait for you, when you caught the faint echo of footsteps behind you. At first, you told yourself it was nothing—until they quickened. You barely had time to turn before a shadow lunged toward you… and then another shadow dropped from above. The man was on the ground in seconds, groaning as a figure in black and blue armor cuffed him to a fire hydrant. When he turned to face you, your breath caught—not from fear, but from the way he stood, tall and sure, with rain slicking over the hard planes of his suit. “You okay, sweetheart?” The word rolled from his tongue like he’d said it a hundred times, low and smooth enough to make your stomach tighten. His gloved hand found your elbow, steady and unyielding, thumb brushing your skin in a slow drag. There was nothing rushed in the way he held you there, gaze lingering as if deciding whether to let you go. Then, with a subtle squeeze, he stepped back and melted into the shadows, leaving the scent of rain and leather in his wake. You didn’t remember the rest of your walk home—only the heat in your chest, the way his voice replayed in your mind, curling around that single word: sweetheart. You’d been touched before, but never like that—firm, certain, as though you were already his. You told yourself it was just the adrenaline, just the shock… but deep down, you knew that wasn’t true.
⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑
You told yourself you’d forget him—the stranger in black and blue who saved you that night. But you didn’t.
If anything, the memory sharpened with time. You could still see the way rain slid over the sharp lines of his suit, still feel the ghost of his hand on your arm, still hear the low rumble of “sweetheart” curling against your ear. At the hospital, when the news mentioned his name, you’d find yourself pausing mid-task, that same jolt of adrenaline humming through you. At night, walking home, your eyes would instinctively trace the rooftops. Half of you hoped never to see danger again. The other half secretly wished to catch even a fleeting glimpse of him.
At first, it was harmless—clicking through a few articles, scrolling past blurry paparazzi shots. But the longer you let yourself think about it, the harder it became to ignore. You began wondering what his voice would sound like without the distortion, how those hands would feel without the gloves—what it would be like to have them everywhere. You pictured the way he’d move if he wasn’t fighting crime, but something far more intimate. Before you could even admit it to yourself, you had a full-blown crush on a man you didn’t truly know.
One rainy evening, you and San were sprawled across his couch, the patter of water against the windows mixing with the faint hum of the TV. The blanket draped over you two was heavy with warmth, your legs tangled lazily beneath it. San’s arm was looped around your shoulders, his palm open against your upper arm, thumb moving in a slow, almost unconscious rhythm. It was one of those touches that felt casual, but made your skin prickle in awareness all the same.
On screen, a masked hero swung into frame, and San’s voice broke the comfortable silence—low, calm, but with a hint of curiosity. “So… who’s your favorite hero?”
You glanced up at him, smirking at the sudden question. “Promise you won’t judge?”
His lips curved faintly, eyes flicking down to yours. “No promises.”
You rolled your eyes, but your voice softened as you turned your gaze back to the movie. “Nightwing.”
You didn’t have to look to know his attention was fixed on you. The words spilled out easier than you expected, carrying a heat you couldn’t quite mask. “I don’t know… something about him. He’s quick, dangerous… always shows up when you need him. And he’s got this way of talking to people—confident, sure of himself… but not in a bad way. It’s like… he knows exactly what to do with you.” Your breath caught for just a second before you added, “I guess I like the idea of someone who could handle me.”
His thumb stilled mid-stroke, a pause so small you almost missed it. But when he looked at you, there was something unreadable in his eyes—like he was weighing your words carefully. Slowly, the motion of his thumb resumed, though there was an unmistakable deliberateness to it now, his touch heavier against your skin. “Yeah…” he murmured, gaze dipping briefly to your lips. “I can see why you’d like him.”
The words lingered between you, heavier than they should have been, and you couldn’t help but wonder why his voice carried the faintest edge of knowing.
⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑
The thought wouldn’t leave you. The way San’s eyes had darkened at the mention of Nightwing, the subtle weight in his voice—it all replayed in your mind like a scene you couldn’t stop rewinding. At first, you brushed it off, telling yourself you were just overanalyzing. But soon, other things began to stand out. Little things. The way his phone seemed to buzz more at night than during the day. How he’d suddenly get up from the couch to “run an errand” after dinner, returning hours later without so much as a grocery bag in hand. And when he walked through the door, there’d be that faint tang of rain on leather clinging to him, like he’d been outside far longer than he claimed.
The pattern only grew harder to ignore. Sometimes you’d wake in the middle of the night to the sound of the front door clicking shut, your half-asleep brain catching the soft scuff of his boots against the floor. Other nights, you’d pretend to be asleep when he slipped back into bed, but you could feel the tension still buzzing through his muscles, the subtle dampness in his hair as if he’d been out in the weather. He never offered explanations, and you never asked—not yet. But each time he kissed your forehead and murmured “Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” you couldn’t help but feel that the man lying beside you was carrying far more than he was willing to share.
⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑
You couldn’t hold it in any longer. Every unexplained absence, every faint smell of leather and rain clinging to San’s clothes, every subtle bruise along his arms or jawline had been stacking in your mind like a storm ready to break. Your chest tightened, your stomach knotted, and your pulse raced as you finally let the words tumble out. “San… where have you really been?” The tremor in your voice betrayed the storm inside you—fear, frustration, and something deeper you didn’t fully understand. The apartment suddenly felt smaller, the air heavier, as your gaze locked onto him. His usual easy smile faltered, and your body betrayed you with a shiver that had nothing to do with fear alone.
San tilted his head, studying you carefully, as if he were trying to read your every thought before answering. “Sweetheart…” His voice was low, teasing, but there was a subtle edge threading through it. “I’ve just… been working late. You know how it is with Bruce and the projects—meetings, audits, unexpected calls. Nothing you need to worry about.” His words were measured, calm, meant to soothe—or at least that’s what he thought. He stepped closer, letting the scent of him brush against your face, a mixture of soap, leather, and something sharper, something that made your knees tremble.
“Cut the BS,” you spat, your voice sharper now, trembling with both anger and the unsteady pulse of desire. “Don’t think for a second I’m buying that. Every night, gone. Every morning, smelling like… like someone else. And those bruises? Work doesn’t leave marks like that, San. Stop lying.” You felt your chest heave as you spoke, words spilling out faster than you could contain them. The casual, calm man you thought you knew seemed to vanish under the intensity of your gaze. The air between you crackled with a mix of accusation and something hotter, something that left your body responding despite your anger.
San’s hands went to your waist, pressing you gently but with unmistakable authority against him, chest brushing against yours. “You think I’d cheat on you?” he asked again, voice rising slightly, incredulous. “You really think I’d do that to you, sweetheart? Really?” His eyes bore into yours, sharp, commanding, teasing, almost daring you to believe the worst. “Do you really think I’d throw away everything we’ve built over some… random thrill?” His words wrapped around you like a vice, and you couldn’t help the little shivers that ran along your spine despite the fury in your chest.
You tried to step back, but your body felt heavier, almost reluctant, every inch of him commanding attention. “Then… then why are you always gone? Why are you so secretive?” you demanded, voice breaking under the strain of weeks of confusion. “I see the bruises, the… the smells, and you won’t tell me anything! Who are you? Are you even… you?” Your hands pressed against his chest, almost instinctively, as if trying to hold him in place while your mind spun. The man in front of you, the one you loved and trusted, suddenly felt like a stranger standing between you and the answers you craved.
San’s jaw tightened, and he exhaled slowly, the warmth of his breath brushing against your cheek as he tilted your chin up with a firm hand. “You really think I’d cheat on you?” he murmured, voice low, almost growling, dripping with sarcastic disbelief. “Sweetheart, after all the nights, all the moments we’ve shared… you really think I could?” He leaned in slowly, heat radiating off him, hands gliding under your shirt to rest possessively on your sides. Each movement, each word, each smirk was a test—a claim. Your stomach twisted, a confusing mix of awe, anger, and growing, undeniable need coiling inside you.
Then, deliberately, San stepped back slightly, pulling the jacket off the back of the chair to reveal a familiar, sleek black suit underneath. Tucked neatly at his side was the mask you’d always admired from the comic books and movies—the same one that had made your heart pound whenever Nightwing appeared on screen. “You… you’re… Nightwing?” you whispered, disbelief and awe tangling together as your pulse jumped. Your knees trembled, your hands frozen on his chest as the reality hit you. Every unexplained absence, every mysterious bruise, every late night—it all finally made sense. And yet, even as your mind processed the truth, your body reacted in ways you couldn’t control, shivering with a mix of shock and anticipation.
San’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk, voice low and teasing. “Thought you’d never figure it out, sweetheart,” he said, hands lingering possessively at your waist. “All those times you were worried I was cheating… it was me. Protecting you, protecting everyone. And yet here you are, standing in front of me, looking at me like I’m some stranger… or worse, like I’ve betrayed you.” He leaned in just enough for the warmth of his body to press against yours, giving you time to absorb every word, every detail, every deliberate movement, his hands tracing light, teasing lines over your sides that made your breath catch.
San’s eyes softened slightly, though a flash of frustration crossed his face. “You really thought… you thought I’d betray you?” he murmured, voice low, almost hurt, as if the idea stung more than your accusations. “After everything we’ve shared, every night, every laugh, every touch—you really think I could throw that all away? That I’d let someone else take my place with you?” His hands tightened slightly on your waist, not harshly, but possessively, grounding you while letting you feel the weight of his disbelief. The intensity of his gaze pinned you in place, forcing you to confront the depth of your own doubt and the sharp twist of guilt that immediately followed.
He leaned in just a fraction, almost close enough for your foreheads to touch, letting the silence stretch between you. “You think I’d let you worry, think the worst of me, while I’m out there protecting you?” His voice was thick with restrained emotion, the sarcasm from before mingling with a raw, vulnerable edge. “Sweetheart… I’d never give anyone the right to take what’s mine. You, me, this—everything we’ve built. And here you are, thinking I’m someone else, someone unworthy of your trust.” His hands traced slow, deliberate lines along your sides, making your chest rise and fall with a mix of anxiety and desire. The tension, the disbelief, the shock—it all coiled inside you, thick and electric, as your mind tried to reconcile the man in front of you with the superhero he truly was.
San’s gaze softened, but the sharp edge of frustration lingered as he leaned in closer, hands still pressing possessively at your waist. “You think I’d betray you, sweetheart… after everything?” His voice was low, teasing, yet edged with raw emotion, and it made your pulse quicken despite your lingering shock. Your body, tense from anger and disbelief, started to respond, a fluttering warmth rising as your breaths grew shallow. You wanted to pull back, to scream, to demand answers, but every instinct screamed at you to stay, to feel him, to understand the truth through his touch.
His fingers traced slow, deliberate circles along your sides, claiming you in subtle, tantalizing ways that left you shivering. “I’m here,” he whispered, lips brushing near your ear. “I’ve always been here. And you… you’re mine.” The possessiveness in his tone wrapped around you like a vice, making your heart pound, your thoughts scatter. You could feel the weight of his disbelief and desire, a mix of accusation and ownership that left you trembling, torn between your lingering suspicion and the undeniable pull of your body toward his.
Then, without another word, San closed the distance. His lips captured yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that was both demanding and claiming. It started gentle, teasing, giving you time to adjust, to absorb the intensity of the revelation, the shock, the lingering anger. But beneath the softness was a tension, a possessive heat that pressed against you, grounding you, and igniting a fire that had been building for weeks. Your hands instinctively tangled in his hair, fingers gripping, pulling him closer, as every emotion—shock, desire, confusion, longing—melted into one overwhelming wave.
The kiss deepened, demanding, possessive, testing the boundaries between restraint and surrender. San’s hands roamed over your sides and back, pressing you flush against him, every touch deliberate, claiming. Your body responded instantly, shivering, trembling with heat, the tension of your doubt and disbelief turning into a raw, urgent need. He whispered your name, low and possessive, each syllable sending shivers through you, making you arch instinctively into him, craving more.
Your breaths came fast, shallow, mixing with the soft groans escaping his lips as the kiss continued. The room seemed to shrink around you, the city outside fading, leaving only the two of you in this charged, intimate bubble. Every second stretched, every movement deliberate, as San explored your body with his hands while his lips and tongue dominated yours, teasing, marking, claiming. The tension from weeks of suspicion, fear, and unspoken desire melted, replaced by the raw heat of your mutual need.
Finally, he pulled back just slightly, resting his forehead against yours, lips brushing yours in a soft, possessive press. “You’re mine, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice thick, low, commanding, the weight of his claim pressing into every fiber of your body. Your chest heaved, breath coming in ragged gasps, and you shivered under his touch, completely consumed by him. The lingering shock, the disbelief, the tension from your questions—all transformed into a fevered, undeniable need that left you trembling and helpless in his arms.
⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑
San’s hands were still firmly holding your waist, his thumbs brushing possessively over your sides. “Look at me, baby,” he murmured, lifting your chin gently to meet his gaze, low and commanding. “All mine. Every inch of you belongs to me, and don’t you forget it.” His words made heat pool between your legs, your breath hitching as his fingers traced teasing circles over your ribs, down toward your hips, marking you with the faint press of his grip. The possessiveness in his tone, the way he claimed your body without hesitation, made your chest tighten with a delicious mix of awe and longing. The tension between you both grew thicker by the second. He leaned back just slightly, eyes dark and commanding, and gestured toward the bedroom. “Come with me,” he murmured, his voice low, teasing, and possessive. Your legs felt weak as you followed, every step charged with anticipation, your heart hammering in your chest.
As you reached the bed, he pressed you lightly against the wall, lips brushing your ear. “Slow, baby… I want every second,” he whispered, fingers tracing circles over your hips, down to your thighs, making you shiver uncontrollably. He kissed the shell of your ear, teeth grazing gently, before sliding his hands under the hem of your shirt. His fingers cupped your breasts, thumbs circling your hardened nipples while his gaze never left yours. “So soft… so ready for me,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin, a subtle mark of possession that made your knees buckle. He then latched his mouth onto them, gently sucking and nipping, sending waves of immense pleasure through you
He lifted you effortlessly and laid you gently on the bed, your head softly meeting the mattress. His hands began to roam over your body, lips and tongue tracing your thighs while his hands continued to fondle your breasts, teasing and kneading them expertly.
San delivered a sharp, controlled spank to your ass, making you gasp and arch instinctively against him. “Naughty girl, thinking I’d cheat… doubting me ,” he growled, pressing you lightly into the wall as if reminding you exactly who you belonged to. His fingers slid lower, teasing over your thighs while the hand on your chest continued to circle and knead, coaxing moans from your lips. Slowly, his mouth traveled to your chest, lips sucking and nipping at your nipples while his fingers trailed down your folds,teasing the sensitive skin.
Look at you… trembling… all mine,” he whispered, lowering himself deliberately between your thighs. His hands cupped your hips possessively, thumbs brushing lightly over your soft skin. “Such a pretty pussy, baby… all mine,” he murmured, his voice low and husky with desire. Then, his lips met your folds, and he began to lick and explore you as if savoring every inch, tongue gliding over you with slow, deliberate pressure, tasting you like it was his last meal. Each flick and swirl of his tongue sent shivers through your body, heat pooling unbearably as your moans filled the room. His hands kneaded your thighs, pressing you closer, holding you firmly in place as he continued, every movement possessive and intoxicating.
San then pressed his fingers deep inside you, curling them expertly as a low moan escaped your lips. “Feeling good, baby? Like the way I’m making you feel right now, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. He scissored his fingers inside you, hips brushing slightly against yours, all while his tongue remained latched to your folds, swirling and flicking with deliberate attention. “Such a sweet little cunt, huh, baby?” he whispered, eyes dark with possessive hunger. You mewled at the praise, the sound escaping uncontrollably as heat pooled unbearably between your legs. Every word, every motion, every brush of his lips and tongue drove you higher, leaving your mind dizzy with pleasure, completely consumed by the intensity of him.
His lips trailed down to your ass, warm and teasing, before he spit lightly on the skin and began licking your rim with deliberate, hungry attention. The sight of him still clad in his Nightwing costume made your pulse race, turning you on even more—seeing him half-masked, taut muscles flexing, claiming you like this, sent shivers of desire down your spine. He alternated between your pussy and your ass, tongue flicking, circling, and exploring, driving you wild with sensation. Moans of his name spilled uncontrollably from your lips as he growled, “That’s right, baby… you like that, don’t you? Give me that, all of it.”
His pace quickened, fingers curling and thrusting inside you as he pressed his mouth hungrily to every sensitive spot, the costume rubbing against your skin in all the right ways. “Come for me, baby… come all over my face, sweetheart,” he commanded, voice rough and possessive, each word sending waves of heat and urgency through your body. Your back arched, breath coming in ragged gasps, and as the tension finally broke, you came hard, moaning his name over and over, “San… San!” trembling and shivering under the intensity of his attention. Every lick, every flick, every skilled movement of his fingers left you trembling, moaning, and completely consumed by the intense pleasure he was giving you, the sight of his costume making it feel even more exhilarating and forbidden.
He then stood, lifting you gently to a seated position on the bed. His hands snaked around your hair, fingers tangling possessively as he pulled you into a hungry, claiming kiss, as if it might be the last time he’d ever touch you. “Mine, baby,” he murmured, voice rough, before you two shifted positions. You began to slowly strip him of his Nightwing costume, your fingers tracing over taut muscles as you peeled it off piece by piece, revealing the curve of his chest, the ridges of his abs, and finally reaching his pants. Stepping out of his boxers, his long, thick cock sprang free, the tip angry red and glistening with precum. The sight alone made your body pulse with need; you swore you could orgasm just from looking at him.
Unable to resist, you leaned forward and flicked your tongue over the tip, tasting him lightly, your lips brushing against his swollen head. The slight teasing sent a groan deep from his chest, and your own breath hitched as anticipation curled through you. Slowly, you began to take him into your mouth, gagging slightly at the sheer size but determined, lips stretching around him, tongue swirling. His hands tightened in your hair, holding you firmly in place, his eyes dark with desire.
When he groaned louder, he gripped your hair at the scalp, guiding you firmly as he moved your hands away from his length. One hand came to your chin, holding you in place while he began to slide deeper, thrusting slowly into your throat with controlled, commanding pressure. The sensation left you trembling, eyes watering, but utterly consumed by the intensity of him.
“Love it when my cock’s down your throat, don’t you?” he murmured, voice low, rough, possessive. “Such a good girl… taking my dick down your precious little throat,” he continued, each word marking you, making your body shiver with need and submission. Your moans muffled around him, broken and gasping, every movement pushing you further into the pleasure and obedience he demanded.
He held you tightly, watching every reaction, thumb brushing over your cheek possessively, as his thrusts in your mouth became slightly harder, deliberate, and rhythmic. “That’s it, baby… take it all… you’re mine,” he growled, the intensity of his movements combined with his praise sending waves of heat pooling through your body.
Your hands rested on his hips, lightly kneading as you adjusted to his rhythm, eyes watering and lips stretched, gagging slightly but pushing through to please him. Each groan he released pressed deep into your chest, vibrating through your body and feeding your need to serve him, to feel him fully.
He alternated between holding you firmly and guiding your head in slow, deliberate thrusts, savoring the control, marking you as his and making your mind melt into obedient pleasure. “Good girl… all mine… such a perfect little mouth for me,” he whispered, thrusts deliberate, and lips brushing yours between movements, tasting you, claiming you.
The intensity built higher, every inhale, every gag, every moan from you pushing him closer to his edge, while your body quivered under the combination of his dominance, size, and possessive attention. Your head bobbed instinctively, riding the rhythm he set, eyes locked on his dark, commanding gaze, feeling the full weight of him claiming you completely.
Finally, he tensed above you, letting out a deep, guttural groan as he spilled down your throat, hot and thick. “Take that, baby… such a good girl… all mine,” he growled, hips shuddering as he continued to fill your mouth. You moaned around him, muffled, overwhelmed by the taste and the weight of him, trembling as your lips and tongue continued to worship him even as he came. “That’s it… my good girl… mine… all mine,” he panted, still holding you firmly, marking you with every word and motion as your body shook under the intensity of his release and possession.
Shaking under the intensity of his release and the weight of his possession, your body still trembling, San scooped you up effortlessly and positioned you on your stomach, sliding you into a perfect doggy position. He lowered himself to meet your cunt with his mouth, lips and tongue teasing every inch of your sensitive flesh. His hands trailed possessively over your hips and thighs, kneading and marking you as he alternated between licking strips over your folds and plunging his tongue deep inside your vagina, curling and flicking with expert precision, fucking you with his tongue in a way that made your back arch and moans spill uncontrollably.
“Do you like it, baby? You like it when I make you feel this good?” he growled, voice low and possessive, tongue still thrusting deep inside you. Your breath hitched as you nodded rapidly, moaning, “Yes… yes, San… I love it,” the words muffled around him, urgent and needy. His fingers gripped your hips tighter, his eyes dark with hunger as he continued, “Such a good girl… you love it, don’t you? Mine, all mine…”
After driving you wild from behind, he gently turned you onto your back, guiding you so you could see your reflection in the mirror on the ceiling. The mirror, one of the things San had insisted be installed in your room, allowed him to claim you while you watched yourself being completely owned. “Look at you, baby… all mine,” he murmured, eyes dark and possessive as he watched your body react under his touch. Every stroke of his tongue, every teasing flick and press of his fingers made your reflection mirror the intensity of the pleasure and domination he was lavishing on you.
He then stood, grabbing himself and spitting over his cock, letting a bead of saliva drip down onto your folds before lining himself up between your soaked pussy. “Ready to take me, baby?” he growled, eyes dark and commanding. Your breath hitched as you trembled beneath him. “Yes… San, please… please… fuck me,” you begged, desperation dripping from every word. He smirked, leaning down to brush his lips over yours in a teasing, claiming kiss, prolonging your anticipation before finally thrusting deep inside you. The two of you groaned together, heat and urgency filling the room.
“Such a tight little pussy,” he murmured, voice rough and possessive, as he began a steady, hard rhythm, thrusting in and out with deliberate force. His hand slid up to grip your neck, holding you close and forcing your gaze to meet his, dark eyes locking with yours. The control and dominance made your knees weak, moans spilling uncontrollably from your lips with each deep, punishing stroke.
As he plowed into you, he leaned down slightly, voice low and teasing, “Such a naughty little girl, huh? To ever think I’d cheat on you…” He laughed softly, a mocking, possessive sound that made your chest tighten. Every thrust, every grunt, every possessive motion marked you, made you acutely aware of how completely he claimed you.
He alternated between holding your neck and gripping your hips, forcing you to stay flush against him as he drove into you relentlessly. “That’s it, baby… mine… every inch…” he growled, his voice rough, pushing you further into the pleasure and submission you craved. The combination of degradation, ownership, and physical pleasure made your moans higher, your body trembling, and your mind melted entirely under him.
He kissed you again, lips soft yet commanding, and murmured, “Come ride me, sweetheart.” With deliberate care, he laid back on the bed and guided you into a reverse cowgirl position, positioning you over him so you could feel every inch as you began to ride him. Almost immediately, your thrusts began to match his, moving in perfect rhythm with his, creating a delicious, synchronized motion that made both of you moan in unison. His hands smacked your ass in a mix of pleasure and control, each slap making you gasp, moans spilling freely as you praised him, feeling the intensity of his dominance and your own desperate need. The sight of your reflection in the mirror above only intensified the sensation—you watched yourself moving on him, eyes locked with your own in the glass, utterly consumed.
“Say it,” he growled, pulling your hair with both hands, forcing you to maintain eye contact in the mirror. Your gaze met his dark, commanding eyes reflected above you, and you moaned, “I’m yours… always yours, San… no man could compare.” He chuckled darkly, slapping your ass again, sharp and possessive, marking you completely as his. The synchronized rhythm of your bodies, the mirror showing every gasp, every arch, made every motion feel twice as intense.
After driving you higher, he gently flipped you onto your stomach, sliding back into the familiar doggy position. His hips pressed into you firmly, hands gripping your sides possessively as he fucked you with controlled, powerful thrusts. “Mine… all mine,” he murmured, voice low and commanding, pressing his chest against your back. “I’m gonna breed you, baby,” he growled, each word sending shivers down your spine.
He leaned down, brushing his lips over your shoulder, whispering against your ear, “Do you want that, baby? Want me to breed you?” You trembled, breathless and needy, gasping out a desperate, “Yes… yes, San…” His thrusts became harder, faster, each movement deep and possessive, echoing his words as he marked you completely.
The rhythm and intensity built higher, every thrust hitting deep, hips slamming into yours with forceful precision. The synchronized motion of your bodies amplified every sensation, sending wave after wave of pleasure crashing through both of you. Your body quaked beneath him, nails digging into the sheets, hips jerking with every powerful movement. Moans spilled uncontrollably, your breath coming in ragged gasps as pleasure coiled tighter in your belly. The mirror above let you see every detail—your body arching, your hands gripping the sheets, your reflection entirely under his control—which made your orgasm swell even more intensely.
As the pleasure spiraled, your body began to shudder uncontrollably, waves of orgasm crashing over you like fire, muscles clenching tightly around him. You moaned his name again and again, “San… San! Ahh! Yes…!” He pressed closer, thrusts harder and deeper, each motion insistent, driving you higher as his own release built, a deep, guttural groan vibrating through him. He leaned close, whispering possessively in your ear, “All mine… such a good girl… mine, baby.”
Finally, both of you tumbled over the edge together, hips stuttering and shuddering as he spilled deep inside you. “That’s it… take it… mine!” he growled, voice rough and commanding, hips grinding as he rode out his release. Every inch of him filling you completely, combined with the mirrored reflection of your bodies intertwined, made the climax feel all-consuming. Your moans and his grunts blended, echoing against the walls, a symphony of raw, unrestrained passion.
Afterward, he held you close, chest pressed to your back, fingers gently brushing your hair as your breaths began to steady. He pressed soft kisses along your shoulder and neck, murmuring, “You did so good, baby… my good girl… all mine.” His hands continued to caress you possessively, though now tenderly, as you rested against him, soaked and trembling, the intensity fading into warmth.
He rolled slightly, cradling you against his chest, arms tight around your body. “Look at me, baby,” he whispered, voice soft but still thick with ownership. “You’re mine… all mine. Always.” You nuzzled into his chest, letting your body relax completely, exhausted but completely safe under his protective hold. He stroked your hair and kissed the top of your head, murmuring low praises as you both drifted in the afterglow, still connected, still marked by the intensity of what you’d shared.
San held you close, chest pressed to your back, as your breaths slowly returned to normal. His fingers traced lazy patterns along your arms and shoulders, lingering on your sides possessively. “You did so good, baby… my good girl… all mine,” he murmured, voice low and warm. You nuzzled into him, still trembling slightly, your body sticky with sweat and his release, and he let out a soft, amused chuckle. “You’re a mess,” he teased lightly, nipping the shell of your ear. “And I love every inch of it.”
He rolled you gently onto your side and helped you up, guiding you to the bathroom so he could clean you off. Water ran over your skin, his hands gentle yet deliberate as he washed you, lips occasionally brushing against your shoulder and neck. You laughed softly as he playfully splashed a little water on your chest, and he grinned down at you, “I see that laugh, baby… you can’t hide it.” He leaned in to kiss you again, soft and lingering, teasingly pressing his forehead against yours as you let out a small giggle.
Once you were both cleaned up, he guided you back to the bed, holding your hand and pressing small, possessive kisses to your fingers and the back of your hand. “You know,” he said, voice husky and teasing, “being with you like this… it’s different. Makes me feel like I’m not just San… I’m Nightwing too. You saw him in action, but you don’t realize… you’re the only one who gets to see this side up close.” You shivered slightly at his words, a flush spreading across your cheeks, “You… you really are Nightwing?” you whispered, voice soft, almost reverent.
He let out a low laugh, deep and playful, “I am, baby. But right now? I’m just yours. You’re mine… all mine.” He pressed another gentle kiss to your lips, lingering a little longer this time, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging him closer, both of you laughing softly at how intimate and ridiculous the moment felt while still charged with the intensity of what had just passed.
Settling back onto the bed, he pulled you into his chest again, one arm around your waist while the other stroked your hair gently. “You know,” he murmured, playful teasing in his tone, “if anyone ever tried to hurt you, Nightwing wouldn’t just save you… he’d make sure they regret it.” You let out a small laugh, nuzzling your face into his shoulder, “I think I’m pretty safe then.”
He kissed the top of your head, humming contentedly, “Very safe, baby… mine, always.” Then he leaned down, pressing his lips to your temple, then cheek, then softly to your lips, a gentle progression that made you shiver in delight. “And just so you know,” he whispered, smirking slightly, “all the teasing, the claiming, the… messiness? That’s not going anywhere. I like seeing you this way… my girl, completely mine.”
You sighed against him, eyes half-lidded, heart still racing slightly from the intensity of earlier, “I… I love you, San. All of you… Nightwing too.” He chuckled low, brushing your hair back and pressing one last possessive kiss to your forehead. “Good girl,” he murmured. “Now rest. You’ve earned it… and I get to hold you, always.” He drew you closer, settling both of you into a comfortable embrace, gentle laughter and soft murmurs filling the room as you drifted into a shared, peaceful afterglow.
Taglist: @shinestarhwaa @joongxhwa 💕
⭑･ﾟﾟ･*:༅｡.｡༅:*ﾟ:*:✼✿ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑
@linovvs 2025 | do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any of my work
Disclaimers: this is no way a true representation of any of the members. this is purely fiction and for the enjoyment of the reader and to not be taken seriously
husband!san comes home from a night out with the guys a little too buzzed and starts stripping his clothes in the doorway, you’ve barely got enough time to close the door when he’s already pressing you against the wall. his chest is so warm and strong behind you, his cologne intoxicating you stupidly. husband!san leaves messy kisses on your neck, feeling you up over your clothes because he’s too impatient to take them off. he’s shushing you as he shoves your tiny pajama shorts to the side and slipping his cock inside you. husband!san who keeps calling you his “pretty wife” as he rails you against the wall, your poor acrylics scraping off layers of paint in the process. he’s sloppy and drooling a bit over your shoulder as he takes you as he pleases but he can’t be bothered to care because all he’s thinking about is how long it’ll take for your belly to get nice and plump for him <3
pairing: domestic san! x reader (just san being an absolute sucker for his s/o <3), fluff (too much fluff)
a/n: realistic little moments of what san would be like because we all love san (if there are any spelling or punctuation errors, please ignore them)
୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
loser boyfriend san who comes into your room in the middle of the night dragging his shiba plushie, eyes barely opened, just because you had a nightmare of being chased by a running broccoli in the middle of the streets. but he doesn't judge you, and holds you close in his arms, listening to all of your incoherent blabbering, hiccupping and sobbing, tears soaking a wet patch on his sandokki pajamas. after which, he tugs you to bed, lying beside you. the morning after, you wake up to san sprawled on the floor, hugging his shiba plushie close to his chest.
loser boyfriend san who takes pride in bringing you and your mom to the nail salon. and he absolutely does not care about the stares he receives when he links arms with you and your mom, striding in like a proud kitten. he waits patiently by your side, head resting on his arms, examining each and every procedure. "jagiya, doesn't it hurt? they are snipping off your skin!" san exclaims. oh,, such dumb boy. "san, it's my cuticles, i don't feel a thing" and when you and your mom attempt to explain to him what a french tip is, he smiles and nods sheepishly, even though you knew very well that nothing went into that boy's head <3
loser boyfriend san who claims to take taekwondo and gym classes to "man up" yet every time you fall sick he can't help but bawl his eyes out. "jagiya, it's okay, it's not your fault. it's just a little cough, that's all" you whisper while running your fingers through his hair. san, who had his head buried in between your breasts looks up at you, dragon eyes softened into swollen doe eyes. but your words didn't seem to help. he blabbers, tears beginning to well up in his eyes yet again "what if you die? what if you never wake up again because your cough killed you? what if-" "SAN. I'M NOT GOING TO DIE, IT'S JUST A COUGH"
loser boyfriend san who never fails to beat the housewife agenda by packing you cute lunchboxes when you had lessons to attend. every time you opened up the hello kitty themed lunchbox container, your friends would be in awe about how he managed to make the cute octopus shaped sausages, a heart-shaped omelette and fruits cut into different animals. once, you had forgotten your lunchbox at home and not even two hours into class, san showed up at your school running to you while frantically pointing at the lunchbox. "i can't leave my baby starving" is all he said to you before hurrying off to his school in a bike because he doesn't have a drivers license (...)
loser boyfriend san who travelled 8 hours to your parent's house without you knowing, just to ask for their acceptance to be your husband. "There is no one who provokes or quarrel with me. I can save her by fighting off bad guys because I have taken exercise hard and i can give her a lot of love because i grew up in a loving home. If you allow me, i will make her happy and comfortable all the time." and of course your parents were over the moon.
and that was the last time you had the rights to call him your loser boyfriend, because now he's your loser husband, and you still love him very much <3
gn!reader, no physical description, & no use of y/n
Summary: San spends his day off with reader… and Seonghwa.
wc: 1.1k
Warnings: Not a one :) Pure fluff
Masterlist
No smut but mdni pls. Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked.
I do not consent to any reuploading, translating, or feeding my writing into ai. If you do will find you and I clog your shower drain :)
San finally has a day off from his busy schedule preparing for their comeback, so you both decided to spend the day at his and Seonghwa’s dorm doing your favorite thing: absolutely nothing.
You let him sleep in and he texts you when he’s up and ready for you to come over. On your way over, you stop by a cafe to grab pastries and coffee, getting something for Seonghwa too. As soon as you walk through the door of their shared apartment, San helps you place the goodies on the counter before he’s wrapping his arms tightly around you, lifting you slightly off the ground.
“Good morning Sannie,” you breathe against his neck as your arms wrap around his broad shoulders. “Someone’s happy to see me,” you giggle, struggling for air as his grip somehow grows tighter.
He’s silent for a moment as he takes a deep breath, simply soaking in your presence. “I missed you.” he says softly as he finally sets you down.
“I missed you too, Sannie” you brush your fingers through his hair and smile softly at him. “I’m so glad I get to steal you for a day.”
His eyes look into yours lovingly before closing the space between you with a kiss; his hands squeeze your waist as yours drift from his hair to his jaw pulling him closer.
“Eugh, get a room,” a new voice rings out behind you, breaking you and San out of your bubble. Your lips separate but San doesn’t loosen his grip on you.
“Good morning, Seonghwa,” you sing-song gently. “I brought breakfast,” you add, tilting your head towards the takeout on the kitchen counter.
He eyes the bag and drinks. “Okay, I take it back, you guys can be gross out here as long as you keep bringing me food.”
A soft laugh escapes your lips as you pull away from San to set out the confections. San reluctantly lets you go but not without hovering close behind you like a shadow. Seonghwa grabs a drink, already knowing which one is his, and pulls out some plates and napkins. The paper bag is set aside as the pastries are set on the counter. You let the boys get first pick since it's their day off while you get rid of some of the trash.
Once you all have your drinks and your pastry filled plates, you make your way over to the living room to put something on the TV while you enjoy breakfast. The random show playing ends up becoming background noise as easy conversation takes priority. They tell you about comeback preparations all while trying—and failing—to avoid spoilers. You tell them about your job and the drama going on between your coworker and the boss’s wife. The topics transition seamlessly from work, to friends, to that new restaurant you’ve been meaning to try, and everything in between. The topic of hobbies makes an appearance and Seonghwa practically jumps out of his seat to tell you about an interest he knows you share.
“Oh, I meant to tell you about the new Lego set I got! Remember that Animal Crossing one I sent you on Insta?”
“Shut up, you ordered it?!” You gasp in excitement.
“I already built it. Come, it’s in my room I’ll show you”
You excitedly jump up to trail behind Hwa towards his room, both leaving your empty plates and half drank coffees on the coffee table. Also leaving San behind. It happened so fast he didn’t have any time to give a reaction other than blinking in bewilderment. You were supposed to be spending the day with him, not Seonghwa.
Begrudgingly, San lifts himself off the couch to follow you to Seonghwa’s room. He walks in to see the two of you huddled together in front of a shelf giggling over the Lego set. With a defeated sigh, San makes his way over to Hwa’s bed and flops down ungracefully. He fights the urge to pout when Seonghwa says something that makes you jump in excitement.
“Oh my god, no way!” You’re practically squealing.
“No, I’m serious. Took me forever but I finally finished the museum.”
“What museum?” San pipes in, his curiosity getting the better of him.
You and Seonghwa simultaneously turn to look at San, neither of you having noticed him arrive.
“Oh, uh, Animal Crossing. It’s a video game,” you reply as San nods in faux interest. You turn back to Seonghwa, “show me right now.”
There’s a soft scoff from the other side of the room, making your gaze shift back to land on San who is rolling his eyes, unaware of his audience. “Um… Something the matter, San?”
He hastily sits up, his face turning a shade of pink as he realizes he’s been caught. “Oh! Uh…” There’s no point in lying now. “It’s just-” he sighs, “I figured I’d be spending my day off with you, not watching you spend the day with Seonghwa…” he admits, feeling a little embarrassed for his jealousy. “It feels like he’s stealing my time with you.”
“Awe Sannie, I’m sorry” you fawn. “You’re right, we have been kinda leaving you out, huh?”
“Yeah, sorry San,” Seonghwa chimes in.
“I like that you guys are friends,” San clarifies, “I like that you get along so well. I just- I kinda wanted to be selfish today and have you all to myself.”
You silently make your way over to where San is sitting and reach your hand out towards him. His face twists in confusion at your outstretched hand.
“C’mon. Let’s go,” you instruct, causing San to finally take your hand. Turning to Seonghwa, you say “I’m sorry, Hwa, but I promised to spend the day with my boyfriend so you will have to show me your museum another time.”
He just laughs, not offended in the least as you drag San into the hallway and back out to the living room.
Letting go of his hand, you begin picking up around the coffee table. “Let’s just tidy up our breakfast and then we can go chill in your room or something,” you say absentmindedly.
San’s feet are frozen in place as he watches you from the sidelines. “You’re not mad?” he questions hesitantly.
“Why would I be mad that my boyfriend wants to spend time with me?” you offer in rebutment as you bring the empty plates to the dishwasher.
Once the dishes have been set gently in the machine you turn back towards the living room only to bump directly into San’s chest. Before you can say anything his arms are once again wrapped around you like a vine.
“I love you,” he whispers into your hair.
Your arms glide up to return the embrace, “I love you too, San.” Pulling away slightly, you lean in for a delicate kiss. “Now, let’s go do nothing together like we planned.”
a/n: Mommy’s first drabble 😏 and it’s ateez yayayayyyyy! I’m so excited for Golden Hour pt.5 in just like 3.5 ish hours omg 😳 San is my ult bias so it j made sense that he’s the first member I write ab here <3 Also I have no idea ab anything having to do w Seonghwa’s island; I’m not very well versed in his acnh progress like idk if he finished his museum or anything, so if it’s wrong and bothers u all I can say is sorry chicken :/ Anyways… I hope u guys like this and I hope ur not disappointed that it isn’t ab The Pitt but I promise there’s plenty more Pitt content in the works 🫡
MDNI banner by @cafekitsune | leaf banner by @thecutestgrotto
Header photo made by me on Canva w pics from Pinterest — pls don’t reuse this!
Request: San just wanted to hold your hand... Why is it so hard??
Warnings: reader is left-handed, they are students, mentions of a bad professor
A/n: the version for right handed people is here | daily click
San faced the biggest problem of his entire life, and that needed immediate fixing.
The professor was giving his lecture about something not half as important for, say, forty minutes now. Some classmates were annotating while others were whispering and laughing. Some were even sleeping. While San's world was falling apart, some people managed to rest like a baby. Ridiculous.
Ignoring every word the professor said, San started to turn his head so he could face the matter that was eating him alive:
You.
Well, actually, not you. He liked you very much. The issue was that you were sitting right next to him and yet, he wasn't able to hold your hand.
Oh, that was terrible.
On the last page of his notebook, San wrote down every one of the things that were in his way and how he could defeat them.
1. You always sat on his right side. Whenever the class got boring, like this one always was, you liked to look out of the window and see what was going on outside. But, because of this habit of yours, there would be no chairs on your right side, making him sit in your left. He didn't think about this issue too much because you really liked sitting in your usual place, so he wouldn't change that.
2. You were left-handed. Meaning that the one hand you could use to hold his was being used to write down the things the professor was talking about. For this matter, San came down with two solutions.
One, you could give up on studying in order to hold his hand. He thought it was fair enough, but apparently you need to study because that's what students do and because you want to have a future. Your defense wasn't that good in his point of view, but you seemed to not want to negotiate.
The second idea was to teach you to write with your right hand, this way he could hold your other one. When he said that, you laughed. He thinks that means no.
He didn't really come up with other solutions, so he decided that all that was left for him to do was to sulk. Profoundly so, enough to make sure you felt the presence of his pout without even having to look at it. Well, that worked, because soon enough you stopped writing down whatever nonsense the professor was saying just to look at him.
"What's wrong?"
"I want to hold your hand" he felt so miserable saying that. A bit childish, honestly. But he really wanted to hold you. Not being able to was killing him.
You offered him a simpathetic smile. "I need to write, San."
"I know" he looked down, pretending this wasn't that big of a deal. It wasn't, after all. "I know."
He held his own pen, for probably the first time since this class started, and tried to pay attention to what the teacher was saying. San started to think the professor barely knew his own subject. How did he even get that job?
When he finally heard something worth of writing down, he felt your head leaning down on his shoulder. He froze. Not because that was the first time you did that, it definitely wasn't, but because he was finally feeling you after so damn long (barely one hour).
"Is that better?" you whispered while still writing, and he could swear he heard a tiny smile laced in your voice.
San leaned his own head on yours, almost hugging you. "Way better."
Mission accomplished.
Masterlist | you'll probably like: we got time
Daily click
Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!
It’s been so long since San's seen you like this. A breathless and writhing mess under him as he places messy kisses to your lips and chin. Your night shirt, which belonged to him initially, was pulled up to expose your soft flesh for him to grab at his will.
His busy and hectic idol schedule combined with your exhaustingly long office hours made it difficult to be intimate. For months now, San would lean in closer to you on the couch and massage your inner thighs to hint he was in the mood, only for you to shoot down his efforts with a simple “I just wanna watch this episode right now.”
Or it would be you, pecking your lips down his neck after he got in bed with you at the end of the day, to which he’d reply with a soft and defiant “I’m tired,” as he pulls the comforter over his face.
It wasn’t that the magic was gone. It was just hard to be on the same baseline. Tonight was no different, with San coming home from dance practice, and you coming home from working overtime. But something changed as you both got into bed. Maybe it was the way you looked so small in his big t-shirt, or maybe it was because of the post-dance practice adrenaline, but whatever it was, San was grateful and he wanted to make the most of it, the most of you.
“I need to hear you. It’s been so long.” He whispered, as he slipped his half-hard cock into your panties, your wetness enveloping him like a warm, welcoming embrace. The sensation made you jolt your hips up, the almost forgotten feeling of his warm bulge brushing against your clit overwhelming you, making you crave more. He took a break from kissing your lips so he could hear your pretty, angelic moans, your uneven breaths alone making his cock harden up.
Your pretty pink panties were already drenched, your juices coating his shaft as he grinded against your cunt. He liked seeing the outline of his cock inside your panties, like a clear, silken path on your silky skin.
“Sannie…” You whined, lifting a hand to rub his lower abs, his lazy strokes making your eyes flutter. You were both half asleep from the long work day, and it only heightened the sensations even more, every stroke against your clit sending waves of overwhelming pleasure throughout your body.
San grunted, his body tensing as his orgasm approached. He exploded over your cunt, your freshly worn panties now a messy, cum-stained piece of fabric. You let out a soft mewl as he pulled out, and he couldn't resist the urge to rub himself against your clothed pussy, the fabric so wet that it almost became transparent, revealing your perfect folds and swollen nub to him. “Mm, so messy baby,” He cooed, but he made no attempt to clean you up. Instead, he traced his thumb over your clothed clit, smearing his cum across your sensitive bud. You were so dirty now and it excited you both. San’s cock throbbed as he thought of your pretty pussy decorated with a mix of your combined juices.
Before you knew it, your panties were drenched in your own sweet release, a powerful squirt that left you weak in the knees. Your body shook, every muscle convulsing with pleasure as he slowly pushed your panties to the side, revealing your most sensitive spot to him. As you came down, San proved he was not finished with you yet, and he lined up his hardened cock with your dripping wet hole, the head teasing the entrance, ready to plunge into your warmth for the first of many times that night.
