#san x reader

[dulceazucarmorena97]

Devotee

Summary: You’re rich asshole, San’s, high school sweetheart and lifelong affair partner. Caught between your circumstance and your desire for more, it’s time to finally face reality.

Tags: AFAB reader. Dom San x sub reader.

Warnings: SMUT. Angst. Reader has immensely low self-esteem. San is kind of a major asshole. Depressing. Toxic.

You sit there, tear-streaked face twisted as you watch him get up from the single seat at the foot of the bed. Your heart feels like it has a fucking blade sticking straight through it. If you’d have known a side effect of this love to be this searing pain, you’d have stayed the hell away from it entirely—

But here you are. Charred from head to toe, and still begging for him to lick the branding iron.

You leap from your spot and run to him, catching his wrist by his sleeve, “Please— don’t go,” Your voice is so small, your eyes suddenly so big and glossy. He looks down at you as he always has: like you’re so minuscule in his line of vision. “Stay with me,” You whisper.

He gently tugs his arm away from your grasp, stepping back by only a step as he says, “Give me something to stay for then.”

Your heart does that thing it always does when you’re with him: a cross between fluttering and sinking— like you’re eager to please him, but so utterly disappointed that he’s asking so little of you. But this desperation deep inside you is so excruciating, you’d take every crumb he’s willing to give you like the pathetic dog that you are.

Wordlessly, you turn your back to him, and without missing a beat, he undoes the zipper on your dress. His fingers are quick and nimble; not like when you were teenagers. He was so clumsy then…so desperate for you.

Role reversals are a cruel thing.

Sometimes you want to just ask him outright if he still feels for you the way he once did…but then you think better of it; no use in breaking your own heart by asking questions you don’t really want the answer to…or rather, questions to which you’ve known the answer all along.

Love doesn’t ache; at least, not like this. Love doesn’t threaten to leave for lack of physical exchange.

You let your dress fall to the floor in a pool at your ankles, leaving you in only those pretty panties: the ones he bought you when he took you with him on that business trip without his wife knowing. He was so fucking cruel during that trip— not letting you leave the fucking hotel room for fear of his colleagues knowing he brought along his whore. Sure, the sheets were silk, and room service offered only the most choice menu items…but what good is it to enjoy all of it alone?

He used to make you promises: one day, maybe later, next year, after my divorce, after my daughter gets a little older. At this point, he’s strung you along for so long, he knows he doesn’t have to promise you anything anymore.

You reach behind you and grab his hands, pulling him closer so that your back is flush against his chest and pelvis. “Why do you do this to yourself?” He asks, looking down at where your ass meets his groin, admiring how your panties come up like a T on your hips. You swallow, a knot threatening to form in your throat, “Do what?” You ask, feigning ignorance but knowing full well what he means.

He suddenly wraps an arm around your waist, while the other comes up under your arm to grab at your neck, his lips pressed to your ear, “You keep playing dumb. I’m starting to believe it,” He says, his teeth grazing your earlobe as his hand clutches at your stomach. Your eyes sting anew, hearing the reality of his perception of you out loud.

“Why can’t you love me?” You whisper, voice caught in your throat as your hundredth tear falls from your tired eyes. “Why can’t you leave me alone?” He asks. “You used to worship me and now it’s like…I don’t even exist.”

“You exist on my credit card bills, trust me,” He snorts humorlessly. “Don’t be an asshole,” You hiss, though it has little conviction.

While the right one stays on your neck, his left hand comes up to grab at your naked breast, kneading it gently, “Fine, then I’ll just be honest,” He rolls your nipples between his fingers,

“Worship is hard when it brings you nothing but headaches…see, the path I’ve chosen,” He looks up at the ceiling in thought, his hand never faltering, “I used to resent it…but now I’ve come to realize that it’s through this path that I can live the life I want. You keep thinking that some day, as long as you keep offering yourself up to me-” he pinches harder, making you squirm, “that I’ll one day ‘come to my senses’ and see it was you all along. But this isn’t a movie, Y/n,” He lets go of your nipple and your throat, and then roughly pushes you forward, forcing you to catch yourself on the bed, so you’re now bent over the foot of it.

“Worship is nothing,” He says bitterly, “to someone who no longer believes in miracles,” He licks his fingers and then reaches down between your legs to feel your heat. He smirks, “But let’s be honest, you’re only mad because, without my worship you’re no longer a goddess,” His fingers press softly on your sensitive clit, making your eye lids flutter, much to your own self-hatred, “you’re just the girl I fuck on occasion.”

You gasp as his fingers sink slowly into you, preparing you. You hate that your body wants him, in disobedience to your fucking brain. You hate him for making you want him. You hate him for making you hate yourself. There’s nothing you want more than to tell him to fuck himself, but you know that if you do,

it won’t even hurt him.

It’ll just hurt you…

So, when he unbuttons his pants and takes out the only cock you’ve known since you were seventeen, tapping it on your ass cheek— when he pulls aside the crotch of your panties and rubs the head of said cock along your entrance, all you can do is brace yourself and give in to your instinctive desire.

Despite all this talk, one thing he’d always humbly admit? How he never tires of having you. How you’re the best lover he’s ever had. And how, had things been different, he’d have worshiped you for the rest of his life.

But things aren’t different, and you’re no goddess—

And he’s no devotee.

[boobear061]

Debt Collector, 3.2 | Choi San

Synopsis: Choi San never chased people. He never had to.

Cold, powerful, and feared by everyone around him, San built his world on control. So when a desperate man fails to repay his debt, San takes the only thing left of value: his daughter.

Y/n's life changes the moment San walks through her front door. Torn from everything she knows and trapped inside his world, she's forced into a marriage meant to secure her family's safety.

But what begins as business quickly becomes something far more dangerous because the moment San saw her photograph, he already knew: nobody else was ever going to have her.

Taglist: @yuyu1024 , @thesanniediaries , @brown88

Part 4 ( COMING SOON )

**

( A/n: This chapter has time skips! )

( A/n: Please read Part 3.1 first! )

Another month passed.

It became easier.

Not perfect.

Never perfect.

Just...

Easier.

I found myself waiting for him in the evenings without pretending otherwise. He found himself leaving work earlier than before. Neither of us talked about it, we simply noticed.

One evening...

Rain tapped softly against the bedroom windows.

I sat cross legged on the bed reading while San worked beside me, several files spread across the comforter.

I looked over and said " ...You're bringing work into bed now? "

" I have deadlines. "

" You're a mafia leader. "

" I still have paperwork. "

I stared at him and said " The mafia has paperwork? "

" So much paperwork. "

" ...That's disappointingly normal. "

He looked up and said " Were you expecting more explosions? "

" Maybe. "

" There were explosions yesterday. "

I blinked and said " ...You're joking. "

" I am. "

I narrowed my eyes and said " You almost had me. "

" I know. "

I smiled despite myself, without thinking... I leaned over slightly and said " Hold still. "

He looked at me and said " What? "

" There's ink. "

" Where? "

" Right here. "

I reached out, my fingers brushed the side of his jaw, wiping away a tiny smudge of black ink I'd somehow noticed from across the bed.

" There. "

His eyes never left mine and said " ...Thank you. "

My hand lingered for half a second longer than it needed to. I realized it, he realized it too.

Slowly... I pulled away and neither of us mentioned it.

**

Weeks blended into months.

The mansion still buzzed with guards.

Meetings still lasted until midnight.

Enemies still existed.

San was still feared by everyone who worked for him, but never by me.

Not anymore.

One evening, I found myself standing on the balcony waiting for him to finish another phone call, he stepped outside a few minutes later and said " It's done. "

" Everything? "

" For tonight. "

I nod my head, the garden below was quiet.

String lights glowed softly across the estate.

Without thinking, I stepped a little closer.

Not because I was cold.

Not because I needed something.

Because somewhere along the way... standing beside him had become the place that felt most natural.

Our shoulders touched lightly, neither of us moved away. San looked out across the grounds before speaking quietly and said " You don't hesitate anymore. "

I glanced at him and said " What do you mean? "

" When you first came here... * Voice remained calm * you always made sure there was distance between us. "

I looked down at the space between our shoulders, there wasn't any now.

" I guess... * Smiled faintly * I stopped needing it. "

For the first time in a long while... San didn't answer immediately. When I finally looked up, he was already watching me, there was no triumph in his expression.

No satisfaction.

Only something quieter.

Something that looked remarkably like gratitude.

He reached for my hand slowly, giving me every chance to pull away, I didn't.

Our fingers intertwined naturally, as though they had done it a hundred times before.

He didn't tighten his grip.

He simply held my hand.

Steady.

Warm.

Certain.

I looked down at our hands, my wedding ring catching the soft light from the balcony.

Months ago, that ring had felt like a chain. Now... It felt like a promise I was finally beginning to understand.

**

Two Months Later

The morning sunlight spilled through the bedroom curtains, warming the hardwood floor.

I stirred slowly, blinking against the light before turning onto my side. The other half of the bed was empty, the blankets were slightly rumpled.

His pillow was still warm.

He'd already been awake.

I smiled faintly.

That wasn't unusual anymore.

San almost always woke before sunrise. Some mornings he went to the gym, other mornings he disappeared into his office before anyone else in the mansion was awake.

Being the head of the Choi Organization didn't allow for slow mornings.

I slipped out of bed and pulled on one of my cardigans before making my way downstairs.

The mansion was already alive.

Guards stood at their usual posts.

Staff moved quietly through the halls.

One of the housekeepers smiled warmly and said " Good morning, Mrs. Choi. "

" Good morning. "

As I entered the kitchen, I found San standing beside the island, a cup of black coffee in one hand while reading something on his tablet.

His white dress shirt was neatly tucked into dark slacks, sleeves rolled to his forearms.

He hadn't noticed me yet, I paused in the doorway.

Sometimes... I liked watching him before he realized I was there.

Not because he was intimidating, because when he thought no one was looking..

His expression softened.

The constant vigilance faded just enough for me to see the man beneath the title everyone feared.

He looked up, his eyes found mine immediately and said " There you are. "

" You say that every morning. "

" I do. "

" You always know where I am. "

" I do. "

I walked closer, smiling and said " Then why say it? "

" Because I like seeing you. "

The answer came so naturally that it stole every thought from my mind. Heat spread across my cheeks and said " You... "

" I? "

" ...You're making it difficult to argue. "

" I wasn't aware we were arguing. "

I laughed quietly and said " No. "

" I didn't think so. "

One of the cooks placed breakfast on the island before disappearing again. San set his tablet aside without another glance and I said " You stopped working. "

" I'm having breakfast with my wife. "

" You've become very good at saying things like that. "

**

Breakfast lasted nearly an hour. Mostly because San allowed it to.

Normally his mornings were filled with meetings.

Phone calls.

Reports.

Today... his phone buzzed three separate times and he ignored every single one.

I raised an eyebrow and said " Shouldn't you answer? "

" It isn't urgent. "

" You haven't even checked. "

" If it were urgent... * Glanced toward one of the guards standing discreetly near the dining room entrance * They'd already be inside. "

Almost on cue, the guard shook his head and said " No emergencies, Boss. "

San nod his head before returning his attention to me and said " See? "

I couldn't help smiling and said " You planned that. "

" I didn't. "

" You definitely did. "

" I simply know my people. "

" You really trust them. "

" My life depends on them. "

The weight behind those words lingered, his men weren't employees, they were people willing to die protecting him because someone, somewhere... was always trying to kill the man who led the Choi Organization.

The thought tightened something inside my chest, he noticed immediately and said " You've gone quiet. "

" I was thinking. "

" Dangerous. "

" I've heard. "

" You have. "

He reached across the table.

Not dramatically.

Not hesitantly.

Simply...

He rested his hand over mine.

His palm was warm.

Rough.

Calloused.

For just a second, I stared at our hands.

Months ago... I would've pulled away.

Now... my fingers curled around his without thinking.

His thumb brushed lightly across my knuckles.

Neither of us mentioned it.

Neither of us needed to.

**

That afternoon, I wandered into the mansion gardens.

Spring had finally settled over the estate.

Flowers lined the stone pathways.

The fountain sparkled beneath the afternoon sun.

I'd spent hours out here lately.

It was peaceful.

One of the guards followed several steps behind.

Not close enough to interrupt, close enough to intervene if necessary.

I'd long since accepted that I would never truly be alone.

Not while I was San's wife.

I knelt beside one of the flower beds, gently brushing my fingers across the petals and heard " They're blooming earlier this year. "

I looked up.

San.

He'd changed out of his suit jacket. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up again. His tie was gone.

" What are you doing out here? " I said.

" I finished early. "

" You finished? "

" I delegated. "

I laughed and said " I don't believe you. "

" It's true. "

" You? "

" Surprising, isn't it? "

" A little. "

He crouched beside me.

Neither of us spoke for a while, we simply watched the breeze move through the flowers and he said " You spend a lot of time here. "

" I like it. "

" I know. "

" You always know. "

" I make it my business to. "

I smiled and said " You sound possessive. "

" I am. "

His honesty caught me off guard again.

" But not because I want to control you. * Looked at her calmly * I simply want to know you're safe. "

The sincerity in his voice made my chest ache and I said " I know. "

That evening...

The mansion grew unusually busy.

Luxury cars filled the driveway.

More guards arrived.

Men in tailored suits walked briskly through the halls carrying folders and speaking quietly into earpieces.

A meeting.

An important one.

I stayed upstairs, curled into the reading chair near the bedroom window.

Down below, I could see black vehicles arriving one after another.

Every visitor was searched before entering.

Every movement was watched.

Being the head of the mafia meant paranoia wasn't weakness.

It was survival.

Hours passed.

The sun disappeared.

Night settled over the estate.

Still... the office lights remained on.

I glanced toward the clock.

11:54 p.m.

Too late, far too late.

I left the bedroom and quietly made my way downstairs. The hallway outside San's office was empty except for two guards.

They both nod their heads respectfully and one of them said " Mrs. Choi. "

" Is he still working? "

" Yes. "

I frowned and said " Has he eaten? "

The guards exchanged a brief glance and one of them said " ...No. "

Of course he hadn't.

I sighed softly before turning toward the kitchen.

Twenty minutes later...

I stood outside his office carrying a tray, one guard knocked gently and said " Boss. "

" Come in. "

The office door opened, stacks of files covered nearly every surface. Several maps were spread across the conference table.

San sat behind his desk, reading through another report.

He looked exhausted.

He simply hid it better than anyone else.

His eyes lifted, the moment he saw me... something in his expression eased and he said " You should be asleep. "

" So should you. "

" I'm working. "

" So am I. "

His eyebrow lifted and I said " Bringing you dinner counts as work. "

" It does tonight. "

A quiet chuckle escaped him.

One of the guards discreetly closed the office door behind me, I set the tray down and said " You skipped lunch too. "

" I was busy. "

" You skipped breakfast yesterday. "

" ...I was busy. "

" You've used that excuse three times this week. "

" I have? "

" You have. "

He leaned back in his chair and said " I've been caught. "

" You have. * Crossed my arms * Eat."

" Yes, ma'am. "

I blinked and said " ...Did you just listen without arguing? "

" I'm learning. "

I narrowed my eyes playfully and said " Who are you? "

He smiled, actually smiled.

His men would've been shocked.

The feared leader of one of the country's most powerful organizations... obeying his wife because she'd told him to eat.

He picked up his chopsticks.

Satisfied, I sat down across from him. Neither of us spoke for several minutes.

He ate, I read one of the books I'd brought with me. The office settled into comfortable silence.

Eventually he looked up and said " You stayed. "

" I always do. "

" You don't have to. "

" I know. "

" Then why? "

I closed my book and said " Because... * Searched for the right words * I know everyone else comes in here because they need something from you. "

He watched me quietly and I said " I wanted to be the one person who came in because I wanted to make sure you were okay. "

Silence filled the office.

A deep...

Meaningful silence.

San slowly stood, walked around the desk, stopped beside my chair.

For a long moment, he simply looked at me, then... very gently... he reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

The touch was careful, almost hesitant, as though he still couldn't quite believe he was allowed to.

" You've changed this house."

I looked up at him and said " I have? "

" It used to feel... * Searched for the word * efficient. "

" And now? "

He smiled softly and said " It feels like home. "

My heart squeezed painfully inside my chest, without thinking... I stood, only inches separated us now and said " I think... "

My voice came out quieter than I'd intended.

" It started feeling like home for me because you were in it. "

For the first time since we'd married... neither of us looked away, outside the office, guards continued their patrols.

Phones rang somewhere deeper in the mansion.

The organization never stopped.

Enemies still existed.

Meetings would continue tomorrow, but inside that office...

The world narrowed until it was only the two of us and standing there... looking into San's eyes... I realized something I could no longer deny.

Somewhere between treating his wounds, waiting for him to come home, sharing quiet meals, and learning the weight he carried...

I hadn't simply grown used to my husband.

I'd fallen in love with him.

The realization terrified me, not because of what I felt but because loving the most powerful man in the mafia meant knowing that every time he walked out the front doors of the mansion...

There was always a chance he might never walk back through them again.

**

Three weeks later

Three weeks had passed since the night I'd admitted the truth to myself.

I loved my husband.

I hadn't told him.

Somehow... it felt too big to put into words. So instead, it slipped into the little things.

Into waiting for him every evening.

Into making sure he'd eaten before another meeting swallowed his entire night.

Into quietly straightening the collar of his shirt when it sat crooked.

Into noticing when he looked more tired than he let anyone else see and somehow... he seemed to notice every one of those things.

The mornings had become our favorite part of the day.

I wandered into the kitchen one morning still wrapped in one of San's oversized hoodies, my hair tied into a loose braid.

He was already there, reading through a report while drinking his coffee.

The moment he looked up, the report no longer seemed important.

" Good morning. "

" Morning. "

His eyes lingered on me for a second before he folded the report closed and said " I was about to come look for you. "

I smiled and said " You knew exactly where I was. "

" I did. "

" Then why were you going to look for me? "

He considered the question for a moment and said " I like finding you. "

The answer came so naturally that my heart stumbled. I shook my head with a quiet laugh and said " You make it very difficult to stay composed. "

" I've noticed. "

A quiet smile tugged at my lips and said " You've noticed? "

" I have. "

" What exactly have you noticed? "

San looked at me for a moment before setting his coffee mug on the counter and said " That you smile before you realize you're doing it. "

I blinked and said " I do? "

" You didn't used to. "

" When did that start? "

" I don't know, * His gaze remained on hers * but it happens almost every morning now. "

Heat crept into my cheeks and said " I wasn't aware. "

" I was. "

I looked away with a quiet laugh and said " You really are observant. "

" It's my job. "

" I think this goes beyond your job. "

" It does. "

His answer was so matter of fact that it stole my response.

He walked over to the refrigerator, taking out a carton of orange juice before grabbing another glass from the cabinet.

Without asking he poured one for me first. I leaned my elbows against the kitchen island, watching him and said " You've started doing that. "

" What? "

" Making mine before yours. "

He glanced down at the two glasses and said " I suppose I have. "

" You didn't even think about it. "

" No, * Handed her the glass * it felt natural."

Natural.

Something about that simple sentence warmed my chest. The word stayed with me long after he'd said it.

It wasn't just the orange juice.

It was the way he automatically reached for the chair beside him when breakfast was served instead of sitting across from me anymore.

The way he remembered I liked strawberry jam instead of orange marmalade, quietly passing it to me before I'd even asked.

The way he never left the house without telling me goodbye.

None of those things had happened overnight.

They'd simply... become us.

I took a small sip from my glass, watching him from over the rim.

He'd picked his report back up, though I noticed he hadn't actually started reading again. His eyes remained on the same paragraph for far too long.

A smile tugged at my lips and said

" You're not reading. "

His eyes lifted immediately and said " No? "

I shook my head and said " You've been looking at the same page for almost a minute. "

One corner of his mouth lifted and said " Observant. "

I laughed softly and said " I learned from the best. "

For just a second, something warm flickered through his expression.

Quiet pride.

He folded the report closed again and said " I'll finish it later. "

I blinked and said " You keep doing that. "

" What? "

" Setting work aside. "

His gaze settled on mine and said " For you. "

The answer came so simply that I almost forgot to breathe.

" You don't have to. "

" I know. "

" Then why do you? "

He rested one forearm against the kitchen island and said " Because the reports will still be there in an hour. * Eyes never left hers * But breakfast with you won't. "

My heart squeezed painfully.

How did he keep saying things like that so casually?

I looked down into my glass, trying and failing to hide the smile spreading across my face and I said " I think you're getting dangerously good at this. "

" At what? "

" Making me blush. "

" I wasn't trying. "

" That's the dangerous part. "

A quiet chuckle escaped him and said " I'll keep that in mind. "

" I don't think you will. "

" No. "

His smile widened just enough to make my stomach flutter.

" I probably won't. "

**

Rain had trapped us inside the mansion.

The library windows rattled softly beneath the steady storm while I searched the highest shelves for a novel I'd been meaning to read.

" .... Almost ... "

I stretched onto my toes.

Still... too high.

A familiar voice sounded behind me " You're not going to reach it. "

I turned, San stood only a step away and I said " I would've eventually. "

" I know. "

He reached over my head, effortlessly taking the book from the shelf.

Instead of handing it to me immediately, he looked at the cover and said " You've already read this one. "

" ...Twice. "

" You cried both times. "

I stared at him and said " ...How do you know that? "

" I found tissues tucked inside the last time you finished it. "

Heat flooded my face and said " You noticed that? "

" I notice most things about you. "

My heart betrayed me again.

He finally handed me the book.

Our fingers brushed, neither of us pulled away immediately.

Our fingers lingered against one another for the briefest moment.

Not intentionally, just.. neither of us seemed in any hurry to pull away.

The rain drummed softly against the library windows, wrapping the room in a comforting hush. The scent of old books and burning cedar from the fireplace filled the air.

I finally wrapped both hands around the novel, smiled and said " Thank you. "

" Of course. "

He didn't leave. Normally, he would've returned to his office, another meeting, another report, another phone call waiting for him.

Instead.. he stayed.

I tilted my head and said " Weren't you working? "

" I was. "

" Were? "

" I decided to take a break. "

I narrowed my eyes playfully and said " You? "

" I know. "

" I don't believe it. "

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and said " I expected that answer. "

I laughed quietly and said " You've become suspiciously responsible lately. "

" I've always been responsible. "

" I meant responsible toward yourself. "

He was quiet for a moment before replying and said " I'm trying. "

The simple honesty in those two words caught me off guard.

Trying.

Not pretending.

Not brushing it aside.

Trying.

" ...Because I keep bothering you? "

His eyes softened and he said " No. "

" Then why? "

He looked toward the rain covered windows before answering " Because I realized something. "

" What? "

" I work as though tomorrow isn't guaranteed. "

I frowned slightly and said " And? "

He looked back at me and said " But if tomorrow does come... I'd rather not spend all of today behind a desk. "

Something in my chest tightened. He wasn't talking about paperwork, not really.

He was talking about life, about how uncertain his own was.

I swallowed and said " ...You're thinking too much. "

" So are you. "

" ...Probably. "

A comfortable silence settled between us. I wandered toward one of the large armchairs near the fireplace before curling my legs beneath me.

San remained standing for another second before surprising me completely, he sat down in the chair beside mine.

Not across the room, beside me

The fire crackled between us, I looked over and said " ...You've never sat in here before. "

" I haven't. "

" You built this library. "

" I did. "

" And you've barely used it. "

" No. "

" So why now? "

His gaze drifted toward the shelves and said " Because you're here. "

My heartbeat stumbled, again.

Honestly... I was beginning to lose count.

I looked away before he noticed how flustered I'd become.

Too late.

" I made you blush. "

" I did not. "

" You did. "

" It was warm in here. "

" The fireplace has been lit for hours. "

" ...Exactly. "

He watched me with unmistakable amusement and said " You've become very creative. "

" I have to be. "

" Why? "

" Because you keep saying impossible things. "

" They seem possible. "

I let out an exasperated laugh and said " You know exactly what you're doing now. "

" I do. "

I pointed accusingly at him and said " There. "

" Where? "

" That. "

" What? "

" You're teasing me. "

" I am. "

" I knew it. "

His quiet chuckle filled the room.

It was still a rare sound. Every time I heard it... it felt like discovering something precious.

I rested my head against the back of the chair, smiling despite myself and said " I don't think anyone outside this room would believe this. "

" What? "

" That the man everyone fears spends his free time making his wife flustered. "

" They don't need to know. "

I smiled and said " No? "

" No. "

" Why not? "

" Because... * His eyes met hers * this part of me belongs to you. "

The words stole every coherent thought from my mind.

The room suddenly felt very small.

The rain sounded louder.

The fire seemed warmer.

I stared at him, searching his face for even the slightest hint that he'd meant something else.

There wasn't one. He'd said exactly what he'd intended.

My voice came out barely above a whisper " ...You say things that make my heart forget how to work. "

His expression softened in a way I'd come to recognize.

Not the expression reserved for business.

Not the one his men saw.

Only... this one.

" I'm beginning to notice. "

" Oh, that's embarrassing. "

" It shouldn't be. "

" It is. "

" Why? "

" Because you're always so calm. "

" I wasn't always. "

I blinked and said " ...You weren't? "

He shook his head once and said " The first time I realized you weren't afraid to stand close to me anymore... * Gaze drifted briefly to the fire * I spent the rest of the meeting thinking about it. "

I stared at him and said " You? "

" I. "

" You were distracted? "

" For approximately twelve minutes. "

I couldn't help laughing and said " Twelve? "

" I checked the clock. "

" You actually counted? "

" I did. "

I covered my face with one hand and said " I don't know whether that's incredibly sweet or incredibly concerning. "

" It can be both. "

I laughed even harder and said " I think... that's the most human thing I've ever heard you admit. "

He smiled and said " So I've been told. "

The rain continued falling outside.

Neither of us reached for another book.

Neither of us spoke for a while.

We simply sat together in the quiet library, listening to the storm.

**

A few days later...

It was nearly midnight. I found San asleep.

Not in bed, at his desk.

His reading glasses rested low on his nose, one hand still loosely holding a pen while paperwork remained scattered around him.

I smiled to myself.

For once... the head of the Choi Organization had lost a battle against exhaustion.

Quietly, I walked over.

I carefully lifted the pen from his fingers before gathering the files into neat stacks.

He stirred slightly but didn't wake. The blanket resting over the office sofa caught my attention. I unfolded it carefully before draping it across his shoulders.

The movement made him open his eyes and said " ...Y/n. "

" You fell asleep. "

" I wasn't planning to. "

" I know. "

His voice was still rough with sleep and said " You stayed awake for me again. "

" I wasn't sleepy. "

He looked at me for several long seconds and said " You always lie about that. "

" ...Maybe a little. "

Without thinking... he reached for my hand, his fingers wrapped gently around mine and said " Thank you. "

There was something different in the way he said it.

Softer.

Warmer.

Almost... affectionate.

Even half asleep, his fingers wrapped around mine with quiet certainty, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

The office was illuminated only by the desk lamp and the soft glow of the city beyond the windows. The mansion had fallen unusually quiet. Somewhere far outside, a guard's radio crackled before fading again.

I looked down at our joined hands, my thumb brushed lightly across the back of his hand without me even thinking about it.

His eyes softened and I whispered " ...You should go to bed. "

" So should you. "

" I wasn't the one who fell asleep at my desk. "

" I was resting my eyes. "

I smiled and said " Is that what we're calling it? "

" It is. "

" You were snoring. "

His eyebrows lifted and said " I don't snore. "

" You absolutely do. "

" I don't. "

" It wasn't loud. * Teased * Just... enough to prove you're human. "

A quiet breath escaped him that sounded suspiciously like a laugh and said " I'll have to ask someone else. "

" You can't. "

" Why not? "

" They'd all tell you they never heard anything. "

" Because they're loyal? "

" Because they're terrified of you. "

The corner of his mouth lifted and said " ...Fair. "

I couldn't help smiling. It still amazed me sometimes...

How different he was when it was just us.

The man the rest of the world feared was somehow the same man arguing with me over whether he'd been snoring.

His gaze drifted over my face before settling somewhere just behind me and said " What time is it? "

I glanced toward the clock on the bookshelf and said " Almost midnight. "

He sighed quietly and said " I kept you awake. "

" You didn't. "

" I did. "

" I chose to come. "

His eyes returned to mine and said " I know. "

There was that look again. That impossibly gentle expression he never let anyone else see.

He slowly released my hand, though his fingertips lingered against mine for just a heartbeat longer before letting go completely.

" I should finish these. "

I looked at the mountain of paperwork covering his desk and said " No. "

" No? "

" No. "

His eyebrow rose and I said " You've already worked all day. "

" I still have- "

" You also fell asleep. "

" I recovered. "

" You were asleep for almost forty minutes. "

" ...Was I? "

" You were. "

He looked mildly surprised and said " I don't usually sleep that deeply. "

" I know. "

Silence settled for a moment, then I said " Come upstairs. "

The words slipped out before I had time to overthink them.

He looked at me quietly and I said " The paperwork will still be here tomorrow. "

" It will. "

" And if it's truly urgent... "

" They'll wake me. "

" They always do. "

" So... * Smiled softly * come to bed. "

For a second, I wondered if I'd said too much. Then he stood.

Without arguing.

Without negotiating.

Without reaching for another file.

I blinked and said " ...You're actually coming. "

" I was invited. "

" I thought you'd insist on finishing. "

" I considered it. "

" What changed your mind? "

His answer came as calmly as ever and said " You asked. "

My heart melted a little more.

Somehow... after everything we'd been through... that was still enough.

Together, we stepped out into the hallway. The two guards outside the office immediately straightened and they said " Boss. "

San nod his head and said " We're done for the night. "

Both men looked surprised but recovered almost instantly and said " Yes, Boss. "

As we walked toward the staircase, I felt their eyes follow us for a second before they politely looked away.

" ...They're surprised. " I murmured.

" They'll recover. "

" They're probably wondering why you stopped working before two in the morning. "

" They know why. "

I looked at him and said " They do? "

" They've noticed. "

" Noticed what? "

His expression remained perfectly composed and said " That my wife usually wins. "

I stopped walking, he took another step before realizing I'd fallen behind. Turning back, he found me staring at him and said "....What? "

" You let me win? "

" I choose my battles. "

I narrowed my eyes and said " That's suspicious. "

" It should be. "

" I thought I was persuasive. "

" You are. "

" So which is it? "

A hint of amusement flickered across his face and said " ...Both. "

I laughed quietly as we continued upstairs. The bedroom greeted us with familiar warmth.

I watched him loosen the cuffs of his sleeves before placing his watch on the nightstand.

His movements had become familiar to me.

The careful way he folded his jacket.

The way he always checked that the bedroom door was locked before turning off the lights.

The way he never climbed into bed until he knew I was comfortable first.

Little things.

Things I'd started noticing because... somewhere along the way....I'd begun memorizing him.

I slipped beneath the blankets while he turned off the bedside lamp. Darkness settled around us. Only moonlight filtered through the curtains.

For several quiet minutes, neither of us spoke, then he said " ...Y/n. "

" Hm? "

" ...Thank you. "

I turned toward him and said " For what? "

" For reminding me... "

His voice was barely louder than the rain beginning outside again.

" ...that I don't always have to carry everything by myself. "

My chest tightened. I reached across the small space between us until my fingers found his hand beneath the blankets.

This time... I was the one who reached first, his fingers intertwined with mine instantly.

No hesitation.

No uncertainty.

Just warmth.

Just trust.

I smiled into the darkness and said " You don't. "

" ...I know. "

For the first time in a long time... The head of the Choi Organization fell asleep before I did and with his hand still holding mine...

I realized there was nowhere else in the world I'd rather have been.

[bro-atz]

choose

we feel like we’ve gone crazy

break up with your boyfriend

coffee really is your color

gradually, until we fall

Voting ended onAug 7

[my1003soda]

DRINK UP ONE MORE WILL BE POSTED VERY SOON 🩷

are you ...

excited

gagged

shitting yourself

chillin

happy soda is FINALLY posting du1m

sodas button

Voting ended onAug 4

[saan-pup]

apt for two

pairing: san x reader

cw: smut (18+), drunk!san with needy-desperate vibes (as always), afab!reader, friends-to-lovers, praise kink, mommy kink, handjob, nipple play (m!recieving), breeding kink, unprotected piv, eternal boner (you'll find out), mention of asian glow, san's fancam, not beta-read, etc.

wc: 4k

---

1 shot

tonight was supposed to involve a pregame at your place before bar-hopping, but somebody decided to ditch you and turn in early (wooyoung). of course, it wasn't until 9:30 that you got the text.

you'd been waiting so patiently, only having one drink. you were saving the rest to share with your friends once he arrived. it was supposed to be the three of you, but now it's just--

2 shots

"maybe he's just tired because of work or something?"

san is sweet, trying to lighten your disappointment.

he just took his second shot, barely wincing as he swallows it quickly before gently setting the glass back on the counter -- you can tell he's trying to hide his distaste for the liquor.

"he's just hungover because he decided to go out without us last night, sannie..." you drone, "he's probably sleeping off the club."

"hm, you're probably right. but if he were here, it probably wouldn't be that fun if he's hungover."

"that's true..."

you pour another round of shots.

3 shots

"hey, let's play a game." san looks at you with bright eyes.

you can see it already -- the flush spreading across his cheeks. for such a big guy, he sure get tipsy easily.

"what kind of game? there's only the two of us."

"how about...apateu?"

"with two people?" he nods with a cute little smile. how could you deny him? "sure, if you want"

5 shots (for san)

you bite back an adoring smile as you watch san down a second shot. his expressions are a lot freer now, letting himself wince just from the smell of tequila, followed by a grossed-out groan after he takes it.

"okay, maybe we should stop. you've lost twice already." he's not very good at this game -- even when you let him pick the number for each turn.

"no, no, let's go again!" his eyes are glazed over, lids heavy from the liquor as he tries to convince you to continue.

you let a smile crack as you watch him sway prettily in front of you, "...you seem a lot more drunk than me though."

"hm?" he smiles back, "that's okay? right?"

you can't help but laugh at his adorableness. he picks up your shot glass and nudges it closer to you.

"just take one, so we're even."

it might just be the liquor, or that pretty blush on his face, but you're feeling bold.

"mm, but you had two, baby."

you say it so casually, yet he reacts to that word immediately. his expression is quickly replaced with something needy.

oh, so he liked that....

"t-then take two." he suggests with a stutter.

you pour yourself one more, right to the brim, and he watches on in awe. you drink it easily, enjoying the way san's eyes stare at your lips as you lick them clean.

"i don't think we're gonna make it to the bars tonight." you tease.

his small shy smile returns, "just stay here...with me, then."

5 shots + a glass of water (for san)

you guide san to the couch with a glass of water in your hand.

barely a few steps from the kitchen counter, he makes you stop for a moment so he can clumsily lace his fingers with yours.

"it's more secure" he murmurs shyly.

you don't say anything as you continue to lead him into the living room, but when you turn away you're biting your lip to stop yourself from pouncing on him.

you're afraid that your cuteness aggression will scare him away.

he immediately picks up a pillow to snuggle against his chest as he sits down. always needing something in his lap...

he looks up at you, all pink cheeks and smiles, as you set the glass of water down on the coffee table in front of him.

you sit down next to him and settle against the plush seat with a sigh.

"what now?" he asks eager and curious.

eager for what?

"well, first, drink some water," san obediently takes a few sips of water as you continue to speak, "do you want to watch a movie or something?"

you were planning on letting him crash on the couch, but how could you leave him when he's looking at you like that?

"hm..." he puts the glass down before looking back at you with a shy expression, "can we watch something else?"

"like what?"

"can i show you some of my fancams?"

"...fancams...?"

"yeah, i want to show you how i look in concert."

you almost giggle from how shy he's being. isn't tequila supposed to make you bolder?

"sannie, i've been to your concerts."

he pouts -- actually pouts, "but you haven't seen them like this!"

how could you deny him?

"ok, ok, let's have a look then."

you try to give him the remote to look it up, but he immediately struggles to type with it -- even turning off the tv at some point -- so you have to take over.

"so it's...'san fancam--'" you press in each letter individually.

"'--ice on my teeth 241115'" he finishes for you.

"...1...5..."

you finally type it all in and click on the video. you see woo (the ditcher of the night, you remind yourself) crouching in front of a sleekly dressed san, who looks very different from the soft and cuddly man next to you.

"how do you remember all of the numbers for the title?" you question as you finally relax back onto the couch.

he shrugs, "i dunno, i just do -- wait, start it over, we were talking during the start!"

"san, it's been like, two seconds."

"please??"

you start it over to placate him.

as you watch the video, you notice how quiet he is next to you.

he must be really into his own fancams...

you get it though. you've never watched his fancams before (you've only seen woo's because he forces you to binge them with him whenever you facetime), but he looks really good in that long coat, glasses, and with his hair slicked back like that, hitting every note with that stupidly handsome look on his face.

he looks so serious...so domineering. delectable.

so...not how you usually see him.

you turn to look at him, wondering if he's just as entranced by himself as you are -- but he's already looking at you.

you feel your cheeks heat up as you're caught ogling your friend, right in front of him.

"so...? do you like it?"

"yeah, it was a good performance, san."

"sannie." he corrects, "do you really like it, or are you just saying that?"

"no, i really like it--"

"which part? do you like the outfit? a lot of people say they like that outfit on me the most. but there's also one where i have on a see-through top..." he starts to ramble.

oh, now you know what he's looking for.

your voice is soft as you coo to him, "you looked great up there, sannie. so talented...and handsome." he smiles sheepishly as you compliment him, "did you show this to me because you wanted to show off? show me how good you are in front of a crowd?"

now he's shy.

"just wanted to know if you liked what you see."

you cradle his face with your hand, "you're so cute, baby," he melts against your touch, nuzzling his warm cheek against you, "just want some praise, hm?"

it's crazy that you have this man falling apart for you with a few words and a bare touch of your hand.

on stage, he looks so regal and put together.

right here? he looks undeniably soft and malleable.

"do you like me?"

"of course, i do." you caress his cheek with your thumb, enjoying the heat that radiates off his skin, "you're a sweetheart."

"no, like, do you like-like me?" his eyes meet yours, wide with hope and yearning.

"what, are we in middle school?" you tease.

he whines softly, "im serious"

you ignore his question and throw it back at him.

"do you like me?"

he's hesitant, timid, but eventually --

"mhm."

"oh really? since when?"

"since forever."

"why didn't you tell me?"

"because..." san briefly looks away, "because i don't know if you like me"

your hand drifts from his jaw to his chin. you can't help but admire his perfect features -- his fluffy hair, dark brows, intense eyes, cute nose, and...his lips.

you carefully glide your thumb over his pretty bottom lip, enamored by how pretty and pink it is.

he stutters out a breath.

"and if i do?"

"c-can you kiss me?" he sounds so sweet and timid when he asks. his eyes eagerly glance down at your lips as you drag his bottom lip down, revealing his pearly white teeth.

you're mesmerized by his mouth. you press against his perfect teeth and he opens up immediately, letting you drag your thumb against his soft tongue. he sucks it in, laving sweetly against the sensitive pad of your finger as he stares up at you, eager to please.

"such a good boy~"

he whines, brows furrowing in desperate need. what a sweet sound.

you move your hand from his mouth so you can get in a better position. you shift from the couch to his lap, wanting to feel his body against yours. his arms immediately loop around your body, finding your waist so he can press you closer.

you dip in, hand at the base of his neck to control him, and nudge your nose against his -- just to tease him. he tries to push up and press his lips to yours, but you stop him, hand firmly holding him back.

"what am i gonna do with you?" you shake your head, "silly boy..."

he looks confused, brows tighten together endearingly, an expression that's slightly embarrassed.

"i-i thought you wanted to kiss."

"did i say that?"

"n-no, but--"

"you think you're so pretty that anyone would let you hit?" your hand moves up to the center of his neck. you press gently on the sides of his throat, pulling a groan from his lips. "mm...maybe you are pretty..."

he shivers from the praise. you can tell he's trying to hold back, but he's still subtly trying to move his hips under you, desperate for any type of friction.

"please? just one kiss?"

"just one?" you ghost your lips on his.

he whimpers at the feeling. you guess his lips are especially sensitive.

"please"

you give in, leaning against his silky pink lips. you feel him melt against you, sighing into it like it's the sweet relief of water in a barren desert. he desperately attempts to pull you closer by your waist, but you're already firmly pressed against him.

he deepens the kiss, delicately licking against the seam of lips before diving in and dragging his tongue against yours. you taste the tequila and lust -- it makes you hungry for more. he moans prettily when you nip at his lips, sucking on the sweet, sensitive skin until it gets all puffy and plump.

when you break the kiss, he attempts to chase your lips for more, not ready to separate. you dodge his advances with an amused smile, loving how needy he is already.

"you said one kiss"

"mmm, i think i messed up on that one..." he swipes his tongue over his swollen lips as he stares hungrily at yours, eyelids heavy but gaze wanting, "can we try again?"

“maybe if you earn it again…”

he groans, “fuck,” he presses his hips against yours, making you feel how hard he is under his pants, “but i need you so bad, mommy.”

hearing that word slip from his beautiful lips almost makes you melt into a puddle, right on his lap. if it weren’t for the way you were straddling him, your thighs would’ve immediately pressed together from the amount of need you were feeling. 

you press down on him just as eagerly, panting from the pressure of his hard cock against your aching clit. 

"yeah? you gonna be a good boy and fill me up?"

"mhmm~" his deep voice drones, vibrating from his chest against yours, "please let me -- i need to be inside of you."

you roll your hips against him, coaxing cute whimpers from him with every press.

"think you deserve it?" you taunt. san can't even answer you, merely nodding with his eyes squeezed shut, reveling in the feeling of your body grinding against his.

your hands move down from his neck, over his chest and stomach before settling right against his covered cock. you can feel the way he twitches under his pants, desperately begging for attention.

he groans when you press against him, the minimal pressure is already too much for him to handle.

"you're already so hard for me." you stroke him over his pants, feeling the perfect contours of his erection even when separated by the fabric.

"m'always hard for you" he slurs, hips subtly flexed upwards in an attempt to feel more of you.

"let me see." you unbutton his pants with ease and use a bit of force to pull them off just far enough to reveal his pretty cock and the top of his legs. his blushing tip weeps delicately with beads of cum, already spilling against his shaft -- evidence of how close he already is to the edge.

when you wrap your hand around him, his body stiffens and his hands instantly grip over the top of your thighs to ground himself.

"w-wait...not yet--" he begs, head thrown back in ecstasy.

you haven't even done anything yet.

"sannie," you can feel him throbbing against your fingers, "baby, are you okay?"

"d-don't move." he shudders, "i m-might--"

you watch his facial expressions closely as you squeeze your fist around him, nearly drooling from the way his eyebrows scrunch together with intensity.

"oops..." you fail to hide your smile but it doesn't matter, he can't see it anyway. you swipe your thumb against the edge of his tip, massaging that sweet spot as his legs begin to shake.

you slip your other hand under his shirt, feeling up his muscled torso to his heaving chest. his skin is warm and smooth against your fingers and it makes you want to leave pretty marks all over him.

his back arches when you lazily drag your index finger against his nipple. you circle your finger around it experimentally and the needy bud hardens from your teasing touch.

"sensitive boy..." you hum.

he whimpers sweetly, "t-too much--"

you ignore his words and pinch his nipple. his mouth opens and he's barely able to take a handful of breaths before he's crying out in broken moans and thrusting against your hand. you work him through it with hushed praises, letting him fuck your fist until he's too weak to continue.

you take your other hand and run your fingers through his hair lovingly as his climax moves through him before caressing the back of his flushed neck. his overstimulated body shivers against your gentle touch, but he still leans into it.

he made a mess.

his cum spurted all over -- spilling over your hand and dripping on your lap -- so now, your pants (and his) are ruined. when san finally calms down a bit, he peeks down at the mess as well.

"i-i'm sorry, i tried to hold it in..." he stares at you with rounded eyes, sparkling with shame and embarrassment.

you tilt your head as you regard the flushed man before you, "if you're gonna be so messy, clean it up." he cowers slightly at your taunting words.

"h-how..."

you lift the hem of his shirt wordlessly and -- after a moment of confusion -- he obediently raises his arms to let you take it off. he watches on with a surprised expression as you bundle it up and use it to wipe your hands and lap.

"what? you thought i'd make you lick it up?" you tease, "didn't know you were that much of a pervert."

"i-no, i d-don't know." he stammers.

you accidentally brush against him as you're cleaning up and his body jolts harshly from the feeling. you gently move the shirt away and notice that he's still hard.

how the fuck--

he can feel your stare.

"u-um...it's..." he attempts to cover himself up with his hands, "this is normal." you throw his shirt to the side and take him by the wrists. you move his hands away and his cock twitches from your attention.

"is it?" when you look up at his face he's blushing, thoroughly embarrassed by his needy body.

"only...when i think of you." he says quietly, "y-you can just ignore it though." he stares at the way your smaller hands wrap around his wrists.

cute.

just to see what he'd do, you put his hands on your body, leading them up from your hips to your chest. he immediately gropes your tits in his large hands, letting out a pathetic noise.

"didn't know you were so insatiable..." you push him away and get off of his lap. he whines from the loss of contact but as soon as he sees you start to strip for him, he's silent, watching on in awe.

you pull off your shirt but leave your bra on -- just another way to tease and deprive him of what he wants. next, you shimmy off your pants before throwing them in his lap.

"look at the stains you left on them," you pout, "those were new." (no they weren't) "you're gonna have to buy me a new pair."

"yeah, o-ok, i'll buy you anything you want..." san ignores the pants and continues to stare at you with a cute spaced-out expression, refusing to miss even a second of you nearly naked in front of him.

he looks so good sitting there, waiting so patiently for you. his broad shoulders -- that stretch every shirt he owns -- lift every so often with the deep breaths he's taking.

his bare body is tan and fucking chiseled, you swear you could get off just grinding on his stupidly perfect abs. and the way he's keeping his hands to himself, despite how eager his cock stands for you.

when you start to approach him again, he shoves the stained clothing away to make room for you. you caress his face as you settle on top of him again.

"don't worry, baby, i'll help you."

"fuck, please."

back on top of him, you roll your hips so your covered cunt just barely grazes his hard cock. he lets out a helpless groan from the bare touch.

"oops, i forgot to take these off..." you snap the waistband of your panties against your hips, "is it okay if we just shove them to the side?" you ask, guiding his hand to feel the lace that decorates the edges.

he tugs at the fabric with thinly veiled frustration. you're surprised he hasn't lost it already. you loop your arms around his neck, letting him touch as much of you as he wants.

his hand travels under your thighs to press right over your clothed center.

"just don't mess these up too, okay?"

"i'll try my best" he presses the pads of his fingers against your cunt, feeling your wet slick soak through the thin fabric of your underwear. "f-fuck, you're already dripping."

"i'm all ready for you, sannie..." you press your hips against his hand, "you could probably just slip it right in" you whisper.

that's all the convincing it takes for him to push his hand under the fabric and run his finger against the soft lips of your cunt.

"feels good, baby~" you shove your face against the crook of his neck, mouthing and nipping against his skin. he hums gratefully at the praise -- it almost sounds like he's purring.

your slick coats his fingers as he rubs them against your sopping hole, gently pressing into you until you stretch around him. you bite your lip as he thrusts into you shallowly, barely able to finger-fuck you correctly because of how far his arm is stretched around your body.

you swear you're making a mess of his hand, dripping everywhere because of how much you want him inside of you. you pull your face away from his neck, eyes locking with his, "sannie, just fuck me."

you lift your hips up enough to press his weeping cock against you.

"b-but what about--"

you pull him in for a kiss and he immediately leans into it, melting against you once again. if you weren't so horny, you'd gush over how easy he is for you.

"don't worry, baby, i can take it."

san listens, pulling your panties to the side so he can position himself against you. he runs his cock against the seam of your cunt a few times to lubricate himself enough before slowly pushing against you. you press down at the same time, legs shaking slightly as your body stretches to accommodate his size.

"o-oh, fuck!" he chokes out, overwhelmed by the feeling of your soaking cunt sucking him in. you both moan when you sit all the way down, letting him fill you to the brim.

"mm...you fill me up so good, baby." you sigh, starting to roll your hips against him. he's so big that he presses against all the special spots inside of you with every move you make.

his hips involuntarily jerk upwards every time you lift your hips away from him, desperately needing to feel you all around him. he'd probably like cockwarming, you think -- or you would think if he wasn't fucking the thoughts from your mind.

"m-mommy, it's -- too much--" his hands wrap around your waist, squeezing faint bruises into your skin as he grapples with the feeling of your tightness fluttering around him.

your head tilts back as you speed up against him, "be good, sannie..." your breaths come out short and labored, "let mommy use your cock -- mm...fuck, yes." your mind is hazy as he hits all the right places inside of you.

he whines, pressing his face against your chest as you move against him, "i don't think i'm going to last." he twitches inside of you, already worked up to the edge.

"then go ahead," you breathe, "cum in me."

you feel the way his hips flex at the thought of filling you up, of making a mess out of you.

"i-i shouldn't..." he says -- but he's fucking up against you harder.

"why not, sannie?" you taunt, "don't want to get me pregnant?"

he lifts his head from your chest to look at you, "p-pregnant?"

"mhm," you smile down at him, "give me your babies so i can't go anywhere."

you're suddenly pressed against his hips, hard, his cock stretching you to your limit. you can feel him everywhere. you moan loudly, cunt fluttering uncontrollably from the intense pleasure he's pressing into you.

"you'd be mine?" he questions with an eager tone, almost innocently so. you can feel the way he throbs inside of you, just a touch away from tipping over the edge.

he refuses to move until you answer him.

so you try to. at least with the 1% of brain power he leaves you with.

"a-and you'd be mine." you can barely focus on the words you want to say.

san starts to shallowly thrust into you, "i'm already yours..."

"then i'm yours too."

his hands cradle your face as you continue to move against each other more desperately. he guides your face to his, pressing his lips against yours messily, teeth dragging and tongues mingling.

it's like he's only doing it to taste you. to feel you because he can't believe you're real. to claim your whole body because he can't take being away from you, even by a few centimeters.

you reach your highs together, moving perfectly in sync until you're both shaking in pleasure. you feel his hot cum fill you up, spurt after spurt -- so much in fact, you can feel it start to drip out of you, down his cock, and onto his lap.

"fuck, i might actually get pregnant from this." you say to yourself.

you feel him twitch inside of you again.

well, shit.

[normaniwrites]

San's masterlist 🩷

Seven days restraint

[s-halazia]

Treat Her Right - CSN

San x Reader

Contents: smut, mentions of past sexual issues with an ex, oral (fem. receiving), fingering, heavy praise, may or may not be super self indulgent

San’s thumb ran along the line of your panties.

“Tell me if you need to stop.” San said looking up at you with soft loving eyes. He understood your apprehension. He had heard the stories of how your ex would shame you for certain things, especially surrounding sex. He knew it left lasting scars, and San being the amazing boyfriend he was, was determined to help you heal.

When it comes to oral sex, you had an issue. Your ex had made you feel like pleasuring you was a chore, and a disgusting one at that. He always said you tasted weird and that he hated doing it. San, however, was the complete opposite.

He never pushed, but wanted to make you feel good so bad. To show you that your body was a gift to him. One that should be treated with love, respect, and most of all devotion. So after months of asking, waiting patiently until you said you were ready, here you are. Laid out before him like he’d dreamed of many times. He pressed a chaste kiss to each of your hips before pressing another to the little pink bow that adorned the top of your panties.

“We can always stop, baby. Just say the word.” You gave him a nervous nod. “Tell me you want this, love.” Your eyes darted down to his.

“I do, Sannie. I really do. I just-” You cut yourself off with a frustrated huff. San was quick to crawl up your body. His large hands cupped your face, searching your eyes for the words you couldn’t say.

“We don’t have to.” He said with a soft smile and shake of his head. But you shook yours in return.

“No, I want to do this for you.” He pressed a soft kiss to her lips.

“Then let me show you how good it can feel.” You gave a small nod. He pressed one more sweet kiss to your lips before he kissed his way back down your body.

“Just relax, my love. Focus on me.” He looked up for one more sign of conformation before slowly peeling off your panties. He spread your legs just as slow, searching for any hesitation or discomfort. “You’re so beautiful. Every piece of you.” He said pressing kisses along your right inner thigh. “Especially here.” He pressed the lightest of kisses to the spot above your clit. He reached up, pulling your hand to his, interlacing your fingers. “Focus on me.” He reiterated. Not a command, a safety net.

He slowly licked an experimental stripe. You squirmed at the feeling. Half in pleasure, half in unease. He backed off, kissing around your thighs again until your breath slowed down.

“Can I keep going?” He looked up. You nodded. He licked another stripe, this time deeper. His tongue caught on your clit, circling slowly before his lips wrapped around it, sucking softly on the bud. A soft moan escaped your lips.

“Good, baby. You’re doing so good.” He said before continuing. He pulled you closer to his face. You fought the urge to tell him to stop. Ask him if it tastes okay. If he still wants you after having you like this. He sensed your mind wandering. “Stay with me, baby.” You brought your wandering mind back to your boyfriend. Closing your eyes, you tried to focus on the feeling of his tongue against you. How good it felt, and not all the trauma from your past.

San’s exploration moved deeper, as his tongue softly and slowly slipped inside of you. A gasp came out before you could stop it. You swore you felt San smile against you.

“Just like that, baby. Just like that.” His tongue continued to prod and poke and his mouth to suck. It felt so good, but… it just wasn’t happening.

“Sannie.” He stopped immediately, looking up at you.

“What’s wrong, my love?” You let out a huff, frustrated tears coming to your eyes.

“I can’t do it.” He quickly came back up to shush you gently.

“You can. I know you can, baby. My strong girl.” He rested his forehead against his. “Please let me keep going. You taste so good.” You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of a lie. When you didn’t find one, you sighed.

“I just don’t think I can cum.” To your surprise, San gave you a soft smile. He smoothed your hair.

“If you’re willing to let me, I’ll get you there. I promise.” You gave him an unsure look. He gave you a loving kiss. “You deserve to feel good. Please let me give that to you.” You rested your head against his for a second before nodding.

“We can try again.” San smiled and kissed the tip of your nose.

“That’s my girl.” He settled back between your legs, rubbing at your hips to help ground you. His lips once again found your clit and you tried your best to relax into the pleasure.

He built you up slowly. Every lick, suck, hum filled with love and reassuring. You let your hand drift down to card through his dark hair. Playing with it as you tried your best to stay present in the love he was providing.

As slowly as his tongue was moving, he brought a finger to your entrance, dipping it inside shallowly a few times before pushing it in. His name fell from your lips as you squirmed under him. His left arm came across your hips, gently grounding you and holding you in place. He worked the finger in and out in time with his tongue. Adding a second as he hummed around your clit. You arched off the bed as best as you could with his arm barring you in place.

“Sannie, oh my god.” You said softly. He didn’t reply, just continued what he was doing. He’d do this until his jaw ached if it meant finally getting to see his beautiful girlfriend cum on his tongue.

Somewhere along the way, it started really worked. You moaned his name in that higher pitch, the pitch that was music to his ears.

“You’re right there, baby. I can feel it. Give it to me.” He kept the slow, same pace to his fingers. Slowly, but calculatedly pushing in and out rubbing so deliciously against that spot.

“San, I think-” He sucked harder on your clit speeding up his fingers ever so slightly before you finally broke. A cry of his name fell from your lips in almost a sob. He kept doing exactly what he was doing. Working you through your orgasm, moaning at the taste of your cum. He didn’t stop until you weakly pushed his head back a bit.

He came up, slowing scooping you into his chest. He held you tightly, grounding you to him, kissing softly at your hairline and stroking your cheek.

“I’m so proud of you, baby. You did such a good job.” He said as he coddled you. “My brave girl.” He praised. He slowly rearranged you so you could lay on his chest. He stroked your back whispering soft praises in your ear.

“Was it really good?” You asked quietly, almost shyly.

“It was better than I dreamed of, baby. You were perfect. You are perfect.” He held you close. “I have no clue what that asshole was talking about. I could do that every day and die a happy man.” You laughed softly at his hyperbole.

“Shut up.”

“No, I mean it.” He punctuated with a kiss to you head. There was a soft pause, a moment of blissful silence. “Thank you for trusting me.” He said earnestly.

“Thank you for not giving up on me.” You said, drawing soft circles on his bare chest.

“It never even crossed my mind.”

[yungistiny]

SCREAM 2

[ C. San + J. Wooyoung ]

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶🔪 are you single?

summary: san and wooyoung are ride or die. they’d kill for each other without blinking. and killing for her is the greatest euphoria they have been chasing for far too long.

warnings: killer/dom/bisexual san, killer/switch/bisexual wooyoung, sub reader, depictions of blood, gore and violence, use of drugs and alcohol + more to be added

genre: horror, dark romance, throuple, smut

pairings: ghostface san x afab reader x ghostface wooyoung

word count: 7.1k

chp 2 coming soon

SCREAM [ yungi standalone ]

masterlist

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Los Angeles didn’t get many summer storms, but when they came, they came hard, wild and unexpected, like the city was trying to rinse itself clean in one night. It was well after 2:00 am. The neon sign above Vega’s Dive buzzed weakly through the downpour, flickering like it too was drunk. Inside, the bar was nearly empty, just a few regulars clinging to the last minutes of whiskey soaked solitude while outside, the fighter stumbled onto the slick pavement, boots splashing through shallow puddles. Danny Ruiz, twenty eight, underground darling turned disgrace. A cocky smile tugged at the corner of his lips, even as the alcohol made his steps uneven. He still thought he’d won.

Powder in the eyes, cheap shot, sure. But the crowd roared when San went down, blinded and bleeding. Danny had walked out with the cash and the victory, and in his mind, that made it fair. The rain matted his hair to his forehead, the sharp scent of ozone and wet concrete wrapping around him as he lit a cigarette with fumbling fingers as somewhere behind him, a door creaked. He didn’t turn. Didn’t notice the shadow step out from the alleyway. Didn’t notice the other one already tailing him across the street, boots splashing in time with the thunder.

Two figures. One lean, cloaked in black with a slightly off kilter gait, like a dancer enjoying a private joke. The other, broader, quieter, precision in motion. Both masked. Both deadly.

The cigarette was gone by the time Danny reached the corner of Valentine and 6th, a grimy little intersection where even the streetlights gave up. The only illumination came from flickers of lightning cracking across the sky, brief flashes revealing graffiti covered walls and busted out windows. He muttered to himself as he stepped over a soggy pizza box and into the narrow hallway of his apartment building, a concrete coffin of a place with peeling paint and that ever present reek of mildew, sweat, and leftover Chinese takeout.

Unit 206. The lock stuck, like it always did. He jiggled the key, cursed under his breath. The moment the lock clicked, Danny shoved the door open, kicking aside a pile of junk mail and stepping into the dark. The building was quiet, too quiet. Most of the tenants worked late or didn’t come home at all. The overhead light in his unit buzzed once and died as he grumbled, tossing his keys onto the counter, peeling off his wet jacket. Outside his window, thunder rolled in the echoing silence until the sound of soft, dragging leather across tile caught his attention.

Danny turned, confused, not yet afraid. Then the door to his apartment creaked open… slowly. But no one was there. He walked toward it and stood in the threshold of his shitty little apartment, blinking into the hallway. No one. Just flickering overheads and the sound of rain dripping through the broken skylight near the stairs. Maybe the wind had pushed the door back open. Or maybe he hadn’t closed it all the way. That’s what he told himself. Still, he locked it this time. Triple bolt. Slamming it shut and turning around only to freeze.

His kitchen light was on now and it hadn’t been before. And standing directly beneath it, like a fucked up painting brought to life, was a figure in a long black robe and a gleaming Ghostface mask. The fabric clung wetly to his chest, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. Playful and mocking as a gloved hand tapped a kitchen knife against his thigh, casual, like he was considering how to use it.

Danny stumbled back a step, heart climbing up his throat. “Who the fuck…”

“Oh, Danny boy,” the voice crooned, playful and syrup slick through the modulated distortion. “You didn’t really think that cheap trick would go unpunished, did you?” The mask tilted again, almost amused as Danny’s eyes darted to the hallway. Too far. The window? Nailed shut. The fire escape? Blocked by an old dresser he never moved. “I mean…. powder? Really? What’s next? Thumbtacks in the gloves? Banana peels in the ring?” Ghostface took a step forward, boots squelching on the wet floor. “San could’ve gone blind, you know. Which would’ve been very inconvenient for me. He’s the only one who knows how to make my coffee just right.”

Danny lunged for the drawer where he kept an old hunters knife, but Ghostface was already there, quicker, smoother, grabbing his wrist and slamming it against the counter. The distorted laugh echoed in the tiny space, and Ghostface leaned in close, mask nearly touching Danny’s face. “You don’t get to win dirty and walk away, sweetheart. Not in our city.” He brought the blade up to Danny’s throat, not slicing, not yet, just resting it there. Just enough for Danny to feel the cold edge of inevitability. “Any last words for the crowd, champ?”

Danny tried to spit in his face, but the mask tilted back just in time, unbothered. “Cute,” Ghostface said. “But not original.” Danny’s breath sawed in and out of his lungs, raw and ragged. “Y… You’re crazy,” he hissed, cradling his bruised wrist, stumbling back as the Ghostface in the kitchen stalked toward him, blade twirling with flair. “You’re fucking insane!”

“Aw, come on,” Wooyoung said behind the mask, voice light, teasing and mean. “That’s not very gratitude core of you. I did wait until you got home, didn’t I?” Danny’s spine met the edge of the counter as he backed up and kept backing, heart pounding, eyes wide, completely missing the second figure emerging from the hallway behind him. The second Ghostface was silent. Still. Watching and waiting as Danny took one more step and collided hard with something solid. He turned, gasping and the second Ghostface shoved him backward with both hands right into Wooyoung’s waiting arms.

“Gotcha,” Wooyoung purred, plunging the knife deep into Danny’s gut with an elegant little twist, like he was carving a ribbon into a present. Danny choked, a wet, guttural sound as he stumbled back, eyes wide, hands flying to the fresh wound. Blood poured out in thick, dark ropes as he staggered toward the hallway, hand leaving smeared red fingerprints on the wall as he gasped for air and ran, pure instinct, blind and stumbling toward the only thing that made sense, his bedroom. He didn’t even realize he was screaming as his legs barely carried him across the threshold, crashing into the dresser as he scrambled to shut the door behind him but it didn’t click all the way.

And it didn’t matter. Because the soft sound of boots against tile was still coming. Steady. Rhythmic and mocking as Danny collapsed to the floor, crawling now, fingers reaching for the phone on his nightstand because like an idiot he realized he left his damn cell at the bar, he knocked over a lamp, the shade crashing to the ground and just as he wrapped his trembling hand around the phone…..

The bedroom door opened. Two figures stood in the frame, Ghostface masks grinning like death itself had a sense of humor. Danny was gasping now, one hand pressed to the gaping wound in his abdomen, the other slick with blood as he tried to crawl backward, away from the figures in the doorway. His legs weren’t working right. His vision was blurring. He could barely hear over the sound of his own panicked breathing as one of them stepped forward. The broader one. Quieter.

Ghostface didn’t speak. Just crossed the room in slow, even strides and then without ceremony, dropped to a knee in front of him and Danny flinched, eyes wild as the knife in the masked figure’s hand came down, not into him, but into the floorboards. Buried there with a sudden crack, the blade quivering in place beside Danny’s shaking leg. And then, slowly, purposefully, the figure reached up and pulled the mask off.

It was San. His dark hair was soaked, sweat and rain glistening on his jaw, and his eyes, those soft, sweet eyes the crowd always underestimated, were dark and unreadable now. Calm. Cold. He didn’t speak at first. Just looked at Danny, head tilted, watching him squirm as Danny’s expression crumpled with shock, disbelief crawling over his features. “No…” he breathed, shaking his head. “No fucking way…”

San’s voice was steady. Quiet. Almost gentle. “You could’ve fought clean.”

Danny’s lip curled, rage flaring like a last ditch defense mechanism. “You serious? You’re gonna kill me over a fight?”

San’s mouth twitched just slightly as Danny barked out a bitter laugh. “What the fuck….” He nodded toward the second Ghostface still standing in the doorway, knife gleaming. “That your boyfriend under that one?”

“Why does everyone think we’re dating?” Wooyoung’s voice snapped through the modulator, dripping with exasperation and theatrical offense. He stepped into the room with a dramatic flair, unbothered by the gore or tension. “Is it the matching masks? The coordinated kills? The cohabitation? We only fucked a few times. Calm down.” He peeled his mask off as he walked, revealing a grin that didn’t reach his eyes and a smudge of blood on his cheek like war paint. He crouched beside San, elbow brushing his as he glanced down at Danny like he was barely more interesting than a popped tire.

“Anyway,” Wooyoung added, tone light, “if I was gonna date someone, it wouldn’t be a guy who wears camo to dinner.” San didn’t react. He just reached over and yanked the knife from the floor, jaw set as he wiped a thumb across his knuckles methodically, like someone tidying up after dinner. “I don’t… like dirty players,” he said, voice low and even, the kind of voice that made the room feel colder even though the apartment was still thick with humidity and the smell of hot cigarettes. He never shouted. He didn’t need to.

Wooyoung moved before Danny could draw a breath. Fast, practiced, an arm wrapping around Danny’s chest, pinning him as if the man were already a coat to be shrugged off. Danny thrashed, fist and elbow flailing, panic making him clumsy and loud as San stepped forward, the knife gleaming dull under the single buzzing bulb. He didn’t hesitate. There was no flourish, no dramatic pause, just the brutal efficiency of a man who knew exactly how to end something and had done it before.

One movement and the blade found the first eye. Danny’s scream tore out of him, a raw, animal sound that bounced off the cheap plaster and disappeared into the stairwell. He clawed at San’s hand, fingers scrabbling for purchase on wet tile. His hands left frantic streaks across the counter as he tried to push away, to shove, to move. San’s face didn’t change. He pushed the knife again, the second time more deliberate, and then the first eye stilled in Danny’s face like an impossible, awful punctuation. He blinked when there was nothing left to blink with, a wet, ragged blink that made him choke.

Wooyoung’s grip tightened and his free hand found Danny’s jaw and tilted the head up so San could reach the other side. There was a mechanical calm to the way the two of them moved together, one holding, one finishing, ritualized and cold. When the second movement came, Danny’s scream broke into a wet, keening sound. He slammed backwards, palms skidding against the floor, knees giving out. For a frantic second his hands clawed at the doorway, at the floor, at any texture that would anchor him as he stumbled to his feet with the disoriented momentum of someone trying to wake from a nightmare.

Blood and rain slicked the tiles, but everything else was a jagged, muffled world. He lurched toward the bedroom window like a man trying to find the exit in darkness, boots slipping on the plastic that had been tracked in from the hallway. He fumbled with the latch, hands trembling so badly they couldn’t form a coherent motion. San and Wooyoung followed, shadows advancing with them, Wooyoung’s laugh was soft, almost conversational, like someone commenting on weather. San kept his face angled down, his breathing measured as Danny threw the window open and there was air, wet and sharp, and instinct, and the stupid bright idea that maybe the fall would jar him back to sense.

He didn’t look down. He tried to climb, tried to pull himself up on the narrow balcony rail, but his balance was gone. The world spun. He crashed through with a flailing, desperate momentum, the lattice tearing like paper. There was a horrible, single instant of suspended weight as his body cleared the sill and then dropped, a graceless, terrible arc and hit the pavement below with a finality that sucked the sound right out of the rainy night.

On the balcony, San didn’t move for a long, steady breath. Wooyoung looked down once, face unreadable for a heartbeat, then turned back toward the doorway like they were leaving a party they hadn’t enjoyed. San slid the knife back into his boot as if it were an inconvenient utensil as Wooyoung clipped the mask back on and offered San a crooked half smile, a private thing between them, before they folded back into the hallway’s shadow and disappeared down the stairs, leaving the apartment to the buzzing light and the rain.

Down below, the street absorbed the body without ceremony. The city, which had been trying to wash itself clean, simply kept on raining.

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The hallway was dim, the overhead light buzzing like it needed to die already. The rain had passed, but the damp stuck to the walls and floor, soaking into everything like grief. Somewhere downstairs, a dog barked followed by someone else slamming a door. It was just another Tuesday in Los Angeles as Y/N leaned against her front door, phone clutched tight in her hand, jaw clenched. “I’m not coming home, Mom.” She wasn’t yelling. Yet. But her voice had that tone, the kind that said she was circling the drain. “I don’t care what he said. I don’t care if he showed up crying in your office or bought you flowers or swore on your favorite rosary. That doesn’t mean he changed.” She paused, teeth sinking into her bottom lip as her mother’s voice filtered through the speaker, sharp and layered in guilt. “He’s not perfect, but he loves you. People fight, Y/N. He made a mistake.”

That nearly made her laugh. “A mistake is forgetting to pick up dinner. Not breaking my fucking wrist.” Her mom huffed. “Watch your language.” Y/N blinked hard, her throat tight as the light above her flickered. “You know I didn’t leave for fun, right?” she said, quieter now. “I left because I thought if I stayed, I’d end up….”

“Stop,” her mother snapped. “You’re being dramatic. He’s trying to make things right. He’s been asking about you.”

“Great.” Y/N snapped right back. “He can ask all he wants. I’m not flying back to New York just because he’s suddenly sorry.”

“Don’t be stubborn.”

“Don’t be blind.”

“This isn’t like you,” her mother finally said, low and disappointed. “You’re not this bitter.” Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut and her grip on the phone shook. “Yeah,” she murmured. “And you’re not usually this cruel.” She hung up before she could hear the reply letting the hallway fill with silence, except for her shallow breathing and the faint hum of city noise leaking in from the cracked window at the stairwell. She leaned against the cool wood of her apartment door. She stood there for a moment, staring at the chipped floor tile like it might hold answers. Then she heard the door across the hall creak open. Apartment 3B.

She glanced up just in time to see Wooyoung step out, barefoot and blissfully unfazed, holding a carton of orange juice like it was a chalice. His platinum blonde hair was still damp from a shower, sticking to his forehead in soft messy tufts. Gray sweats slung low on his hips, a black tank top clinging to his frame, silver chain resting on his collarbones like decoration on a weapon. His smirk was subtle but there. “Hey,” he said easily. Y/N straightened up, blinking once to shake off the conversation residue. “Hey.” He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, carton in hand. “You alright?” he asked, eyes flicking toward her phone. “You sounded kind of… murdery.” That pulled a soft snort out of her, more breath than laugh, but still something.

“Just my mom,” she said. “She wants me to go back to New York.” Wooyoung raised an eyebrow. “And let him win?” Her head snapped up, startled, but then she saw the way he was watching her. Not cruel. Not judging. Just knowing. She looked away, embarrassed. “You heard that?” He shrugged. “Old pipes. Shitty building. Not my fault the walls are emotionally codependent.” That earned him a real laugh, quiet and unguarded as she ran a hand through her hair. “We’ve been arguing on and off since I moved here.”

“I figured.” He tilted the carton toward her. “You’ve got the same don’t fuck with me face I had after my cousin’s wedding.” She narrowed her eyes. “Your cousin’s wedding?”

“Long story. Involved shrimp cocktails, a fake pregnancy announcement, and a very drunk groomsman with a nipple ring.”

Y/N blinked. “That sounds like a story I absolutely need to hear.” Wooyoung grinned, and it did something strange to the air between them, charged it a little as he pushed off the doorframe and took a step closer, not too close, just… there. “You wanna come over for a bit?” he asked, voice lighter now. “San made too much pasta and we’ve been watching The Shining like it’s a romcom.” Y/N tilted her head. “That… actually sounds perfect.” He held the door open with one hand, gesturing like a dramatic hotel concierge. “Madam.”

Y/N stepped across the threshold into their apartment, not quite sure what she expected, but surprised at how… lived in it felt. The place was cozy, if a little chaotic. Posters and old fight flyers were tacked up on the wall beside shelves crammed with blurays and video games. The living room was lit by the soft glow of a lamp with a cracked shade, and something that smelled like garlic and red pepper hung thick in the air. “Ignore the mess,” Wooyoung said, closing the door behind them. “San doesn’t know what a laundry basket is. He thinks the couch is the basket.” A voice came from deeper in the room, low and tired. “I can hear you, asshole.”

Y/N turned and looked at San. He was sprawled out on the couch in black sweatpants and a black tank top that matched Wooyoung’s, one arm draped over the back cushion, the other holding a spoonful of pasta that had long since cooled. His hair was still damp from a shower, a few strands curling over his forehead, and there was a faint bruise blooming along his jaw, old enough to not look fresh, new enough to make her stare a little too long. He looked up when she entered and didn’t look away as Y/N offered a small, polite smile. “Hey, San.” He nodded slowly, like it took effort to look casual. “Hey.” Wooyoung breezed past her, already grabbing two forks and a third bowl from the drying rack. “She’s staying for pasta and horror clichés,” he called.

Y/N moved further in, pretending she didn’t notice the way San’s eyes tracked her the entire time, like she was the only thing in the room worth paying attention to. He didn’t speak again. Didn’t need to. The silence said enough. It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t even uncomfortable. But it was… thick. She sat down on the edge of the loveseat beside the couch and crossed her legs, trying not to notice the way his gaze lingered on the exposed stretch of skin just above her knee before flicking back up to her face. San had never really talked to her much. A few “good mornings,” a few quiet nods in the hall. He wasn’t like Wooyoung, didn’t flirt or banter or ask what she was listening to through her headphones. But now, sitting this close, the quiet buzzed between them. And he was looking at her. Not in a creepy way. But not in an innocent one, either.

The movie was playing, but nobody was really watching. Y/N sat between them now on the couch, her bowl of pasta balanced on her knees, fork twirling absently as thunder cracked from the TV. Jack Nicholson was yelling in a snowstorm, but the real storm was the glances San kept failing to hide. Wooyoung sat to her right, one leg tucked under him, his head tipped back against the cushion as he picked at his own bowl. He wasn’t subtle about watching her either, but his gaze didn’t linger. His style was quick flicks, playful jabs, heat without the ache. San, though? He was hurting. He sat on her left, elbow on the armrest, hand half covering his mouth like he thought it might disguise the fact that he hadn’t looked away from her in at least ten minutes. His pasta was untouched as he watched her lips every time she took a bite. Watched the way she tucked her hair behind her ear. Watched the stretch of her thigh where her shorts rode up when she shifted.

And of course Y/N noticed. How could she not? She didn’t say anything, just kept eating, slow, unfazed. But her body shifted ever so slightly toward him on instinct. Not away. And San, poor San, almost dropped his fork. “So,” Wooyoung said suddenly, grinning over the rim of his glass. “You ever been to an underground fight?” Y/N blinked, thrown by the change in topic. “Like… real ones?”

“Very real,” Wooyoung said, winking. “Blood, sweat, broken noses, the occasional flying tooth.”

“That sounds wildly illegal.”

“Illegal?” he gasped, mock offended. “Absolutely not. It’s a totally normal sweaty man violence club held in a condemned warehouse run by a guy named Rico who owns four snakes and a pet raccoon.”

Y/N laughed. “You’re not serious.”

Wooyoung grinned. “Come Friday night and find out.” San shifted beside her but said nothing as Y/N glanced at him. “Wait… do you fight?” He paused. The muscles in his jaw twitching as he shrugged. “Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?” Wooyoung snorted. “He’s the headliner. Crowd favorite. Once punched a guy so hard he threw up.”

San sighed. “He bit me first.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “He bit you?”

“Yeah.” Wooyoung leaned in. “And then San broke his ribs and gave him a concussion.”

“I didn’t give him the concussion.”

“Oh, my bad.” Wooyoung took another bite. “The floor did.”

Y/N looked back at San. “So you’re, like… dangerous.” His eyes flicked to hers, dark, unreadable and something in his chest visibly tightened. “Only when I need to be.” The words hung in the air for a second too long and Wooyoung smirked into his glass as San looked away first. Y/N finished her last bite and placed the bowl on the coffee table, leaning back against the couch. Unknowingly sitting between two men who’d both killed someone less than a couple days ago. One of them trying not to explode from how good she smelled. The other trying not to say something like, Wanna wear my knife like jewelry?

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Wednesday smelled like burnt coffee, dry printer paper, and someone’s off brand cologne that should’ve been outlawed in 2011. The office was a colorless blur of gray cubicles and cheap carpet, the hum of fluorescent lights mixing with the distant clack of keyboards and the occasional sigh of a broken spirit as Y/N sat at her desk in the far left corner of the floor, staring blankly at the spreadsheet glowing on her monitor like it might suddenly become interesting. It never did though. Her job was, technically, client data coordination, which really meant organizing paperwork that people like Brian were supposed to help file and then somehow always forgot about until the last minute.

Speak of the devil…. “Hey, Y/N,” Brian’s voice carried from behind her partition like a nasal storm cloud. “Quick question.” She turned in her chair slowly, already bracing herself as Brian leaned one elbow on the cubicle wall, tall enough to peer over it like a nosy giraffe. His tie was crooked. His smile smug. “Any reason the ledger reports for Q2 haven’t been submitted yet?”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

He raised his eyebrows in faux innocence. “They’re due today. You were supposed to send them to Mel by noon.” She stared at him. “You were supposed to log them into the portal first. Remember? We split the task Monday.” Brian gave a slow shrug. “I don’t know, I don’t think that was me. You sure?” Y/N fought the urge to throw her stapler at his face. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mel, the department head, look up from her glass office and Brian, of course, saw it too. “I mean, if it’s your part that’s holding things up, we should probably just let Mel know so it doesn’t reflect poorly on the team.”

Y/N stood up, voice sharp but controlled. “Brian, the folder was on your desk yesterday. I emailed you a reminder. Twice.” He gave her a look that was all pity and performance. “I didn’t see any email.”

“Maybe check your inbox instead of TikTok next time.” That earned a snicker from someone a few cubicles over and Brian’s jaw clenched. “Wow. Okay. No need to be hostile.”

“Then stop lying.”

The air tensed as Mel opened her door. “Y/N, Brian,” she called, voice polite but clipped. “Can I see you both in my office?” Brian gave her a what did I do? smirk and strolled ahead like a smug golden retriever that just peed on the rug as Y/N followed, teeth gritted and palms itching.

Sometimes she wanted to stab him with her pen until the ink turned from blue to red.

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The pizza place smelled like melted cheese and old dreams, exactly what Y/N needed after a day spent in cubicle hell. The bell over the door jingled weakly as she stepped in, hair damp from the light drizzle outside, purse slung over one shoulder like it was carrying all her rage. She didn’t bother looking around. Just bee lined to the counter and gave the guy a flat, “Two slices of pepperoni, please,” before collapsing into the booth nearest the window. Her head thumped back against the cushion.

She hadn’t even taken a bite when someone cleared their throat gently. “You look like you fought a printer and lost.” San. Alone. Black hoodie. Soft joggers. Damp hair pushed back under a black cap. His hands in his pockets. No Wooyoung. Just him. The last person she expected to see without the chaos twin attached at the hip.

He gave her the softest smile. Like he didn’t want to intrude but couldn’t just walk past her either. “Mind if I sit?” Y/N nodded, surprised at how easy the yes came out. “Yeah. I mean… no. Sit.” He slid into the booth across from her, legs slightly spread, arms folded casually on the table. His eyes flicked to her pizza, then back up to her face. “Rough day?” She let out a snort that was barely a laugh. “You could say that.” He raised an eyebrow and she hesitated, then shook her head. “Just… work stuff. Office drama. You ever meet someone whose whole personality is blaming other people?”

San’s lips twitched. “I fight people for fun. But yeah, I’ve met that kind of guy.”

She smiled at that. “Brian,” she muttered like it was a curse. “My coworker. Lost the reports he was supposed to file, threw me under the bus, and then played victim in front of my boss.” San didn’t say anything right away. Just watched her quietly, like he was letting her talk as long as she wanted. “And then he had the nerve to act like I was emotional. Like, no, Brian. I’m just two seconds away from flipping a table and setting you on fire.”

That made him huff out a soft laugh, just a breath, but real. “Want me to hit him?” She paused, pizza halfway to her mouth, eyes flicking up. San looked completely serious. So calm it was almost dangerous. She blinked then smirked. “That an official offer?” His mouth curved. “Limited time only.” The smile that tugged at her lips stayed longer this time. “Tempting.” Their eyes met across the table. And for the first time since she moved across the hall… she realized San wasn’t just shy. He was quiet. Intentional. The kind of man who didn’t waste words, not because he had none, but because he only gave them to people he wanted to understand him. And he was looking at her like he wanted that very badly.

They ate in easy silence for a few minutes, just the occasional clink of the metal tray, the shuffle of feet behind the counter, and the hum of neon from the buzzing “OPEN” sign in the window. It wasn’t awkward, just… simple. Comfortable. Y/N finished her first slice and leaned back in the booth, watching San tear through his like a man who’d earned it in blood. Which, in hindsight, wasn’t totally out of the realm of possibility. Her eyes drifted again, just a second too long. Across his shoulders, the way his hoodie clung when he leaned forward, sleeves pushed to his elbows, exposing strong forearms and a faded bruise near his wrist.

He looked up suddenly, catching her gaze mid glance but she didn’t look away. Instead, she tilted her head a little, lips tugging upward. “Can I ask you something?” San blinked, wiping his hand on a napkin, wary but open. “Sure.” Y/N hesitated for a second, but not because she didn’t want to ask, because she didn’t know how he’d react. “Are you and Wooyoung…… together?” The words landed softly but they hit hard. San blinked. Once. Twice. Then again, like he genuinely hadn’t expected that to come out of her mouth. And then he laughed. A real, low, guttural kind of laugh that made her eyebrows raise. His head dropped back for a second, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek before he looked back at her, grinning wide. “Why does everyone think that?”

Y/N couldn’t help but smile. “I mean… you kind of give off matching tattoo, shared Spotify playlist, codependent energy.” That made him laugh harder and he shook his head, still smiling. “No. We’re not together.”

She smirked. “Ever been?”

San opened his mouth. And then, carefully, “Once. A long time ago. Didn’t stick.” She lifted a brow. “But you still live together?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “We’ve known each other since we were seventeen. It’s just… easy.” She took a slow sip of her soda, watching him over the rim of her cup. “So… what you’re saying is, you’re single.” San met her eyes and for once, he didn’t look away. “Yeah,” he said, voice just a little quieter than before. “Very.” The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was heavy. Like something unsaid had just sat down at the table with them.

By the time they stepped out of the pizza place, the rain had returned, not heavy, but a lazy summer drizzle that made the asphalt shine and the air smell like earth and smoke. San clicked the lock on his old black pickup, the kind that rattled slightly when it idled but ran like a beast. He reached for the passenger door without thinking and opened it for her. Y/N glanced at him with a raised brow as she climbed in. “Chivalry? In this economy?” He gave her a half smile as he rounded the front. “It’s rare,” he agreed, “but not extinct.”

The drive was short, ten minutes, maybe. Mostly quiet, but not in a bad way. The kind of quiet where neither of them needed to fill the air with noise just to prove something. Still, at one red light, Y/N spoke. “You’re not as quiet as I thought.” San glanced over, smile creeping in. “You just haven’t caught me in the right mood before.” She arched a brow. “And today is the right mood?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just gave her a side glance that lingered a little too long, his voice low when it finally came. “Might be.” Y/N looked out the window, biting back a grin. When they pulled into the lot beside the apartment building, she hesitated before getting out. “Thanks for the ride,” she said as San looked at her, one hand gripping the wheel still, knuckles tight. “You wanna walk up together?” he asked. “Since we’re both headed there anyway.”

She smirked. “Trying to walk me to my door like we’re on a date?”

He smirked right back. “I’ll take the side closest to traffic. Just in case.”

They walked up the stairs slowly, lazily. Still no rush. Their steps echoing quietly in the stairwell. Y/N was close enough to brush against him once, twice, once by accident, once definitely not. Neither commented on it as they reached their hallway, the familiar soft buzz of the overhead light flickering as always And then the door to apartment 3B swung open and Wooyoung, dripping wet, fresh from the shower, stepped into the hallway in nothing but a white towel slung low on his hips, one hand scratching lazily at his chest like he didn’t even notice the world existed. His hair was slicked back, face flushed from the steam. “Oh. Thought you were Yeosang bringing me my weed.”

Y/N snorted as San sighed. Wooyoung’s eyes flicked from San to her, still walking together, still a little too close, and a devilish grin crawled across his face like he’d just found a button worth pressing. “Well hello, neighbor,” he said slowly, adjusting his towel in the least helpful way. “Didn’t know you two were out having a little date without me.” Y/N laughed because what else could you do when your hot towel clad neighbor said things like that with full eye contact?

San, on the other hand, looked like he wanted the floor to open up and eat him alive. “If you still need me to hit that coworker of yours…. Let me know.” He said only half joking before shoving a protesting Wooyoung back inside leaving Y/N to stare after them.

That offer looking more and more and inviting as each second passed.

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It was just past eight when Y/N stepped off the bus and started up the stairs to her building, heels echoing with each tired step. Her blouse was wrinkled, her tote bag heavier than usual, and she had that post work glaze in her eyes, the one you only get after surviving another day of Brian and two surprise meetings that should’ve been emails. She was halfway down the hallway when the door to 3B opened and San and Wooyoung stepped out, mid conversation. San wore black joggers and a fitted zip up jacket, sleeves rolled to his elbows again, hands taped already. A few fading bruises trailed his collarbone where his tank top didn’t cover. His hair was loose and a little messy, fight night mode already dialed in.

Wooyoung? Tight black jeans, leather jacket, rings on four fingers, platinum hair tousled to perfection. Danger in cologne form. They both looked up at the same time when they saw her and Wooyoung grinned first. “Look who’s home.” Y/N slowed, giving them both a once over. “Where are you guys off to looking like you’re about to commit crimes?” San’s mouth twitched like he was fighting a smirk as Wooyoung stepped forward. “Fight night,” he said, like it should’ve been obvious. “Rico’s warehouse. Underground chaos. Men bleeding for money. That kind of thing. You know.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Romantic.”

“You have no idea,” he said, then leaned just a little closer. “You should come.” San glanced at him, eyes flicking sideways fast, but he said nothing as Wooyoung kept his gaze locked on her. “Seriously. You said you’ve never been to one, right? Consider this your personal invitation. You’d love it. It’s loud. Sweaty. Unhinged.“ Y/N gave a skeptical tilt of her head. “And by love it, you mean…?”

“I mean you’ll have fun,” Wooyoung grinned. “And you’ll get to see San half naked and knock a guy out with nothing but his elbow.” San exhaled, finally speaking. “He’s exaggerating.”

Wooyoung waved it off. “Barely.”

Y/N hesitated in front of her door, key in hand. Something in her buzzed a little at the thought, warehouse lights, loud music, danger in the air… and San in the ring. “What time?”

San blinked in surprise as Wooyoung smirked wider. “We’ll text you the address. Don’t wear anything you care about.”

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Brian left the office an hour after most people had clocked out. Not because he was working late. But because he was dragging his feet, stalling, probably trying to find a way to frame someone else for his fuck up on tomorrow’s deadline. The building was mostly dark now, just the glow of the exit signs and one buzzing vending machine light near the elevator. He didn’t notice the black truck parked across the street earlier. Didn’t notice the two figures slipping quietly into the side stairwell before he hit the button for the garage.

His footsteps echoed too loud in the stairwell and when he hit the bottom, pushing the heavy door open to the underground parking deck, the concrete swallowed the sound. It was cold down there. Damp. Reeking faintly of oil, rubber, and mildew. Half the lights were out, and the rest flickered just enough to be annoying as Brian yawned and muttered to himself, fumbling for his keys as he crossed the lot. He was parked in the corner next to the concrete pillar and the busted security camera no one ever fixed.

He reached his car, opened the door….

He froze. There was a sound behind him. Like a boot scuffing the pavement. Slow and deliberate. He turned quickly but there was no one. Just the shadows between cars. He squinted. “Hello?” No answer came. His hand twitched toward his phone.

“If you have to ask,” a voice called from somewhere in the dark, distorted and playful, “you already know the answer.”

Brian spun around again, keys clattering to the floor as behind one of the pillars, a figure stepped out in a Ghostface suit. Long black robe dragging across the floor, head tilted like he was confused or maybe just entertained. Brian backed up fast, slamming into the door of his car. “What the fuck?”

“Brian,” the voice said, cheerfully now. “Middle manager. Team killer. Email CCer.” The ghostface took another step. The blade in his hand gleamed in the low light. “You’ve been very busy.”

Brian scrambled for his phone again. But it was already too late. Because now there was a second one. The other ghostface moved faster, cutting across the aisle between cars in a blur, boots slapping wet pavement as the blade slashed out, sparking briefly against the metal hood of the car just inches from Brian’s face and he screamed and ran. Because they always do.

Brian’s dress shoes squeaked uselessly on the slick concrete as he tore down the row of parked cars, phone in hand, thumb shaking on the screen to call 911 but it failed. “SIRI, DIALL 911!”

“I’m sorry. Can you repeat your question?”

“YOU USELESS BITCH!” Brian threw a look over his shoulder, ghostface one still followed at a walking pace, knife in hand, posture casual like this was all just a fun little cardio circuit as Brian veered around a beat up sedan, tripping over a loose parking block and slamming into the concrete wall. He gasped, turned, knife still down the row, glinting like a promise in ghostface’s hand. “Wh…. WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Brian shouted, eyes wide, spit gathering in the corners of his mouth.

The figure just stopped and tilted its head. “Want?” the voice was distorted and amused. “Oh, sweetie. You don’t get to ask questions. You filed the wrong paperwork for that.” Another voice joined in, calmer and quieter from behind. “Check your blind spot.”

Brian whipped around and ghostface two was now much closer. Too close. He screamed and scrambled to the right, slamming into a side mirror, drawing blood on his arm. “HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!” His voice bounced off empty walls, unanswered as ghostface one was laughing now, slow and syrupy through the voice modulator. “You know what the funny thing is?” the voice mused, circling. “You’re not even special. You’re not a killer. You’re not a genius. You’re just… annoying.”

Brian was crying now, face twisted with panic. “Please…. please I… I didn’t do anything…..”

“No,” ghostface two said, quiet and still, voice deeper under the modulation. “But you were a dick to her.”

Brian blinked. “Who?” But it was too late again. Wooyoung’s blade came first, quick, across the thigh, sharp enough to make Brian collapse screaming. Not fatal. Just enough to make it fun. He tried to crawl. Tried to pull himself under the neighboring SUV. But San grabbed his ankle hard and yanked him back so fast his forehead smacked the concrete with a wet crack. He barely had time to scream before San knelt on his back, cold blade pressing to the back of his neck as Wooyoung crouched nearby, watching with one leg lazily bouncing, mask tilted. “Say hi to HR,” he said cheerfully.

And San drove the blade in. Quick and precise. Brian’s body twitched once. Twice. Then went still. San stood slowly back up, blood dripping in steady lines from the blade in his hand as Wooyoung stepped up beside him, pulling off his mask with one hand and let out a breath like he’d just come off a treadmill. “God,” he sighed. “That guy smelled like microwave soup.”

San didn’t say anything. Just wiped his blade on Brian’s sleeve, tucked it away, and started walking. “You think she’ll come tonight?” Wooyoung asked, trailing behind him.

San didn’t look back as blood poured into a pool around Brian’s dead body. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “She’ll come.”

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