Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Thinking about how Seonghwa likes to be dominated.
Like you can't argue with me that this man's dick doesn't harden the minute you straddle him.
"No, you can't do that, Y/n!" He'd start once he catches you cheating in UNO.
"I literally saw you hide that card in your sleeve. You cheate–"
And all his words gets stuck in his throat when you get up and straddle him, eyes threatening as you pin his wrists above his head.
"You were saying?"
He slowly gulps, growing hard each time you grind your hips against his growing hard. "Y/n, please," he begs, a moan slipping past his lips.
You smirk, leaning down to kiss him, biting as you parted. "I thought you didn't like cheaters, Hwa?"
"No, I like–love you!" His mind is a mush. Struggling with his words, he jerks his hips in a desperate attempt to feel you. Feel any sort of friction.
Taking pity on the man, you get off him, one hand keeping his wrists in place while you pull his pants down in a painstaking pace.
"Y/n, please, I swear–" he looks so pretty wuth tears in his sparkling eyes.
Smirking, you revere at his dick which slowly gets hard in your touch. Grazing your nails softly against the length, Seonghwa swears he'll come at rhe mere touch from you.
"Be still or you what's happen, love," you warn finally letting go of his wrists. He nods rapidly.
Rubbing your palm against his angry tip, the man beneath you moans without holding back, your name rolling off the tip of his tongue like mantra.
"Y/n y/n y/n!"
"Shh," you put your finger to your lip. "Want the guys to hear you like to beg, Hwa?"
Seonghwa pouts but does as told, biting the insides of his cheek when you stroke him.
And the man comes within minutes. He's not ashamed tho. He can come as fast or as slow as you need him, when you need him to.
He bites back a broken sob when you stroke him while he comes, his back arching off the plush bed. "Just came–Y/n!"
You smile at him, moving away the hair that sticks to his now sweaty face. Pretty, teary eyes looking at you like you were the Godess of love herself, reincarnated.
"Come for me, again?" You say with such love in your eyes that Hwa can't complain any further. "I know you can do it, baby."
And he does come. How many times, he doesn't remeber. He just remembers seeing you praise him so sweetly when he comes, and that's all that matters to him.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
💞 Trope: Fuckboy Falls First, Grumpy x Sunshine (but she's the grump), Slow Burn, Mutual Pining
📚 Genre: College AU, Romance, Angst, Fluff
🌟 Featuring: All ATEEZ members, Original Character (Jisoo – reader’s childhood friend)
°•°°°••••°°♡•••°°°°°°°•••••♡°°•°°•°°°°°♡•••
📖 Summary:
Reserved, logical, and emotionally guarded, Y/N never expected the campus heartbreaker to take interest in her. San wasn’t looking for anything real—until she became the one girl he couldn’t charm.
Masterlist
°•°°°••••°°♡•••°°°°°°°•••••♡°°•°°•°°°°°♡•••
Y/N never understood why people insisted that college was the best time of your life.
To her, university was something to survive — a meticulously calculated path to a stable career, free of distractions, social drama, and especially men who wore cologne strong enough to make your neurons short-circuit. That last category happened to fill most of her general education electives.
She wasn’t there to thrive. She was there to get through it.
The hallways of Seoul National’s pharmacy department were her sanctuary — organized, quiet, logical. Here, her obsession with structure and predictability wasn’t weird. It was respected or at least she had hoped that.
But the school required a handful of non-major classes to “round out” students’ education, which is how Y/N found herself in Interpersonal Communication 101, stuck in the back of a lecture hall with a half-dead highlighter, desperately trying to ignore the group of guys laughing near the front.
Loud guys.
Obnoxiously attractive guys.
“Bro, I swear she winked at you,” one of them said — the one with dimples and way too much energy for 9:00 a.m.
The one beside him, black baseball cap turned backward, just chuckled. “She winks at everyone.”
That voice.
Even without looking, Y/N knew exactly who it belonged to.
Choi San.
Campus heartthrob. Known for switching majors as often as he changed hair color. Rumored to have kissed a senior in the middle of a sociology presentation and gotten a B+ on the same project. Women loved him. Professors were charmed by him. Guys wanted to be him. And he never sat in the same seat twice.
Y/N had learned that by accident.
It wasn’t that she cared.
She just liked routine. And unfortunately, he was allergic to it.
Today, he slid into the empty chair two seats beside her with a loud yawn, stretching his arms overhead like he hadn’t kept half the dorm awake with late-night karaoke.
Y/N flipped her page and pretended not to notice.
°•°°°••••°°♡•••°°°°°°°•••••♡°°•°°•°°°°°♡•••
The professor cleared his throat. “All right, class. We’re starting our semester project today. Everyone’s going to work in pairs.”
Y/N blinked.
Pairs?
The word made her stomach twist.
She was used to working alone — methodical, precise, efficient. Group work meant compromise. Delay. Stress.
The professor continued. “You’ll be randomly assigned. This isn’t optional — part of the point is learning to navigate different personalities.”
Y/N groaned inwardly. She could already feel the migraine forming.
“Your names are on the sheet here,” he added, holding up a printed list before handing it off to a TA.
She tried not to panic. She really did.
But the universe clearly hated her today, because two minutes later, the girl sitting beside her peeked over and whispered, “Hey, you’re with… San?”
Y/N froze. “San?”
“Choi San,” the girl confirmed. “Lucky you.”
She blinked, slowly turning toward the front.
San was already looking at her — and smirking.
She gathered her things quickly and approached him at the front of the room. The professor was still talking, but her heart was pounding too loudly to hear it.
San looked up as she neared, tilting his head. “Y/N, right?”
Her throat caught. “How do you…?”
“I remember names.” His voice was smooth. Teasing. He leaned back in his seat like this was just another game. “You always sit two rows behind me. Except Wednesdays, when you come in late and grab the aisle.”
She stared.
Was he serious?
“You... notice where I sit?”
“You have that giant navy-blue backpack with the anime pins. Hard to miss.”
Her face flushed. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
He smiled. “Didn’t say it did.”
Y/N glanced around. Students were pairing up, chatting, laughing.
She turned back to him. “Look, let’s just agree on a schedule, get the project done, and stay out of each other’s way.”
San raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Wow. You don’t like me already, huh?”
“I don’t know you,” she corrected sharply. “And I don’t need to.”
Instead of being offended, San grinned. “You’re interesting.”
“I’m not.”
“See? That’s the kind of thing interesting people say.”
They exchanged contact info — her notes were neatly bullet-pointed in her planner, while San handed her his phone already open to a blank contact screen.
She typed in her number carefully. No emojis. No nickname.
“Do you always look like you’re solving a math equation when you type?” he asked.
“I like precision.”
“You’re a pharmacy major, right?”
She paused. “…How do you know that?”
San gave her a look. “I might’ve asked around.”
She stared at him.
He didn’t blink.
“Why?” she asked.
He shrugged, eyes crinkling. “You seemed interesting.”
She was beginning to really hate that word.
°•°°°••••°°♡•••°°°°°°°•••••♡°°•°°•°°°°°♡•••
That night, she got a text.
[Unknown Number]: “Hi, partner 😊 This is San. Let me know when you’re free to meet — I promise I can be focused. Kind of.”
Y/N stared at it for a full minute.
Then replied.
[You]: “Tomorrow at 4 in the library. No distractions.”
[San]: “So serious. I’ll bring snacks 🍪”
She didn’t respond.
But she didn’t delete the message either.
°•°°°••••°°♡•••°°°°°°°•••••♡°°•°°•°°°°°♡•••
The next afternoon, San actually showed up.
On time.
With snacks.
Y/N had expected him to flake, or worse — flirt. But instead, he sat down across from her and looked almost like a real student.
She laid out her notes. San pulled out a notebook that had maybe four words written in it.
“You don’t take notes?” she asked.
“I take pictures of the slides,” he said. “My brain doesn’t like bullet points.”
She sighed. “We’ll start from the top. I already outlined the assignment objectives.”
He watched her carefully, chin resting in his palm.
“You talk like a textbook,” he said after a while.
“You act like one never touched you,” she shot back without looking up.
San laughed. Loudly.
A few students turned to stare.
Y/N’s ears went red. “Can you not?”
“That was the most savage thing anyone’s ever said to me in a library.”
“Then your friends must be too nice.”
He leaned in, voice dropping a little. “You think about me often?”
She looked up, narrowing her eyes. “I think about finishing this project. You just happen to be the obstacle.”
San whistled lowly. “You’re good.”
“I’m efficient.”
He smirked. “You’re cute when you’re irritated.”
Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it again.
She hated how flustered she felt.
He noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“Tomorrow? Same time?” he asked, already packing up his untouched notebook.
She exhaled slowly. “…Fine.”
San paused. “Hey.”
She glanced up.
He smiled — soft this time. “Thanks for not judging me.”
She blinked, caught off guard.
“I’m not here to judge,” she said.
He winked. “We’ll see about that.”
°•°°°••••°°♡•••°°°°°°°•••••♡°°•°°•°°°°°♡•••
The sound of the dorm door slamming behind San echoed through the hallway.
“Bro,” Wooyoung called from the kitchen, “you’re actually back before midnight? Who are you and what have you done with our roommate?”
San dropped his backpack onto the couch. “I had a study session.”
Yeosang peered over the back of the couch. “You? Studying? That’s a plot twist.”
“Did you get her number too?” Seonghwa asked, barely looking up from the book he was annotating.
San raised an eyebrow. “We’re literally project partners.”
“Doesn’t answer the question,” Yunho said with a grin, throwing a chip at him.
San caught it in mid-air and ate it. “She gave me her number… professionally.”
“Ohhh,” the others chorused.
“It’s not like that,” San muttered, walking past them toward the fridge.
“So it’s not like the last three ‘study sessions’ you had this semester?” Jongho called.
San paused, bottle of water in hand. “Y/N’s different.”
They all looked up.
That was a word San didn’t use lightly.
“She’s… like, really smart. Organized. Kinda blunt,” he added. “She doesn’t care about social stuff. Or me.”
“That last one’s gotta sting,” Wooyoung smirked.
“It’s weird. Everyone else plays the game. She doesn’t,” San said, more to himself.
Hongjoong, who’d just walked in from his room, threw his bag down and narrowed his eyes. “Wait. Y/N? Like… the one everyone says is scary?”
San blinked. “She’s not scary.”
“Just quiet,” Seonghwa offered.
“And kind of intense,” Yeosang added.
“And maybe a little judgy,” Wooyoung grinned.
San shook his head. “She’s just focused. People don’t get her.”
“But you do?” Yunho asked, half-teasing.
“I want to,” San admitted before realizing how it sounded.
Everyone stared.
He cleared his throat. “We have another session tomorrow. So… yeah.”
The next afternoon, Y/N sat under a tree outside the library, a large pharmacology textbook open in her lap. San spotted her from a distance — headphones on, hoodie up, pen tapping lightly against her page.
She didn’t notice him until his shadow blocked the sun.
Her head tilted up, brows furrowing. “You’re early.”
San grinned. “Didn’t want to be late.”
Y/N pulled out her planner. “I bookmarked the sections we need to review. I’ve also outlined possible project frameworks.”
He sat beside her. “Do you ever just… chill?”
She blinked. “This is me chilling.”
He laughed, fully leaning back in the grass beside her.
“You’re gonna crease your notes,” he warned.
“I made a copy,” she replied without missing a beat.
San turned his head to look at her. “Do you always assume people underestimate you?”
“No,” she said quietly. “I assume they don’t care enough to try.”
He was silent.
She glanced up. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Just… that was honest.”
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“Don’t be.” His voice was softer than usual. “I liked it.”
Inside the library, they sat in a tucked-away study corner. San kept glancing at her over the edge of his laptop, watching the way she chewed on her pen cap when she concentrated.
The way she didn’t fidget when things went quiet.
The way she spoke so clearly — like every word had been edited in her head before being said.
She caught him staring.
“What?”
He shrugged. “You really don’t care what people think, huh?”
Y/N hesitated. “People already think what they want. Trying to change that takes too much energy.”
He tilted his head. “People say you’re cold.”
“People say you’re a slut.”
Her words hit him square in the chest.
She immediately looked down. “Sorry. That was harsh.”
San just… blinked.
Then he laughed — full and real.
“Okay, ouch, but also fair.”
Y/N looked up, confused.
“You’re not wrong,” he said, still chuckling. “But you didn’t say it like an insult. Just… fact.”
“It is,” she said. “And mine’s a fact too. You think I don’t hear what people say about me?”
He looked at her, suddenly serious. “They’re wrong.”
“I don’t care.”
“I think you do.”
Y/N didn’t reply.
San leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Why do you pretend to be colder than you are?”
She met his eyes. “Why do you pretend to be less serious than you are?”
He froze.
No smile. No teasing comeback.
Just a heartbeat of shared stillness.
Then someone across the aisle hissed, “Look, that’s her. The one who never talks to anyone.”
San looked over.
A group of girls were whispering.
“She’s so rude. She ignored me in lab last week.”
“She acts like she’s better than everyone.”
San frowned.
Y/N’s expression didn’t change, but her hands clenched in her lap.
He stood up.
“Hey,” he said to the group. “Keep it down. Some of us are trying to study.”
The girls blinked.
San turned back to Y/N, grabbing his backpack. “Let’s go.”
She followed without a word.
Outside the library, she finally spoke.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
“I’m used to it.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s okay.”
She looked down. “People judge what they don’t understand.”
San exhaled. “Yeah. They do.”
They walked in silence.
Until she asked, “Why did you defend me?”
He gave a small smile. “Because I’m starting to understand you.”
She stopped walking.
San stopped too.
Y/N stared at him. “You don’t even know me.”
“I’m trying,” he said, voice low. “Isn’t that more than most?”
She didn’t answer. But her silence wasn’t cold — just uncertain.
San smiled. “I’ll text you later?”
She gave a small nod.
As she turned away, he called, “Hey.”
She looked back.
“You’re not cold,” he said. “You’re just… hard to read. And some of us like a challenge.”
She rolled her eyes.
But this time, she was smiling.
That night, San lay on his bed, phone open to their message thread.
No new texts. But the old ones made him grin.
His door creaked open. Yeosang poked his head in. “So? How’d it go with your ice queen?”
San threw a pillow at him.
“She’s not cold,” he said.
“No?” Wooyoung said from the hallway. “Then why are you suddenly warm all the time?”
San ignored them, flipping back to the photo he’d secretly taken of their notes side-by-side.
One line from her planner stood out.
“Control what you can. Accept what you can’t.”
He stared at it for a long time.
And for the first time in months, San wasn’t interested in chasing anyone else.
°•°°°••••°°♡•••°°°°°°°•••••♡°°•°°•°°°°°♡•••
San wasn’t used to feeling… second.
He wasn’t even sure that was the right word. But whatever it was, it didn’t feel good.
From the edge of the courtyard, he spotted Y/N standing by the fountain, talking to someone he didn’t recognize — tall, broad-shouldered, sharp jawline. The guy was dressed in athletic gear, logo of the Seoul Tigers stitched onto his jacket sleeve. San recognized it instantly: professional volleyball team. Big deal.
But what really caught San’s attention wasn’t the team logo.
It was the way Y/N smiled.
Not the tight-lipped, polite smile she usually gave in class. Not the quick, practiced smirk she used when San made a joke.
This smile was effortless.
Real.
He hadn’t seen that one before.
San stayed in the shade of the trees, watching without meaning to.
The guy leaned in and said something that made Y/N laugh. Her hand came up to lightly tap his chest — casual, familiar. He flicked her forehead, and she rolled her eyes, still smiling.
It hit San harder than he expected.
“You okay?”
San blinked. Yunho had come up beside him, holding a bag of convenience store snacks and raising a curious brow.
“Yeah,” San muttered, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket.
“You’re staring.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are. Hard.”
San looked away. “She’s just with someone.”
“Jisoo?” Yunho asked. “The volleyball guy?”
San’s jaw tensed.
Yunho whistled under his breath. “Damn. He’s, like, model-tier.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” San said flatly.
Yunho laughed, unwrapping a rice cake. “Well, I did. Your girl’s got taste.”
“She’s not my girl.”
“Right,” Yunho said, not bothering to hide the grin.
San watched a moment longer, then muttered, “I’m going back to the dorm.”
Yunho raised a brow. “You’re not gonna say hi?”
“No point,” San said. “She already looks happy.”
Later, at the dorm, San flopped onto the couch and pulled a blanket over his head.
“Drama queen,” Wooyoung said, poking his leg with a water bottle. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
“He’s sulking,” Yeosang said from the kitchen. “Like a kicked puppy.”
“I’m fine,” San grumbled under the blanket.
Hongjoong looked up from his laptop. “Is this about Y/N?”
No answer.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said.
“She was with Jisoo,” Yunho explained, dropping onto the couch. “They seemed… close.”
“Who’s Jisoo?” Seonghwa asked.
“Childhood friend,” Yunho replied. “Pro athlete. Basically a K-drama male lead.”
“Ohhh,” the room chorused.
Wooyoung smirked. “So our San is… jealous?”
San groaned from under the blanket. “I’m not jealous.”
“Then why’d you come back early?” Seonghwa asked.
“I didn’t feel like being there.”
“You were literally hiding behind a tree,” Yunho said.
San sat up, hair messy and face flushed. “Shut up.”
Wooyoung leaned in. “Aw, look at him. Flustered.”
“Stop teasing him,” Seonghwa said gently. “Feelings are weird.”
“I don’t have feelings,” San said too quickly.
Silence.
Then Yeosang, deadpan: “Liar.”
San sank back into the cushions with a defeated sigh.
At their next scheduled study session, Y/N was already at the table when San arrived.
She greeted him with a quiet nod and didn’t mention Jisoo.
San sat across from her, pulling out his notebook.
The silence stretched a little longer than usual.
He glanced up.
Y/N looked tired — not in the dark-circle way, but like someone carrying something heavy internally.
“You okay?” he asked before he could stop himself.
She blinked. “I’m fine.”
He nodded. “Cool.”
Back to silence.
They worked without talking for a while — pages turned, pens scratched, screens glowed, until San closed his notebook and glanced over at her.
“So… that guy yesterday,” he said casually, pretending to stretch. “The one by the fountain.”
Y/N looked up. “Jisoo?”
San nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “You two seemed close.”
She blinked. “He’s a childhood friend.”
San hummed, tapping his pen on the table. “Is he studying here now?”
“No. He’s just visiting. He plays for the Seoul Tigers.”
San gave a low whistle. “Big deal.”
Y/N tilted her head slightly. “Why are you asking?”
He shrugged, eyes still on his pen. “Just curious.”
There was a pause.
“Do you always ask about people I talk to?” she asked, not in a defensive tone — just genuinely puzzled.
San froze for a split second, then recovered. “No. I just hadn’t seen you smile like that before.”
Her brows drew together. “Like what?”
“Like you were… comfortable.”
Y/N sat back in her chair. “We grew up together. That’s all it is.”
San didn’t respond right away. Then quietly: “Right.”
She watched him for a moment, but when it was clear he wasn’t going to say more, she returned to her notes.
He stared at the corner of his page, pen motionless in his hand, wondering what the hell he was feeling — and why it wouldn’t go away.
°•°°°••••°°♡•••°°°°°°°•••••♡°°•°°•°°°°°♡•••
San didn’t even want to go to the party.
But Wooyoung had dragged him out anyway — practically pulled him out of his hoodie and shoved him into a nicer shirt.
“It’ll get your mind off her,” Wooyoung had said, handing him a soda as they stepped into the neon-hazed chaos of the house party.
“I’m not thinking about anyone,” San had mumbled in return.
Now, thirty minutes in, San stood in the corner of a sweaty living room, clutching a lukewarm drink, eyes scanning the room like he was looking for a fire escape. Music thumped through the floorboards, lights pulsed red and blue, and people pressed too close, laughing and spilling drinks.
He felt out of place. Restless.
Not because the party was bad — it was the same as always. Same crowd. Same playlist. Same Wooyoung dancing in the middle of the room like he owned it.
No, San felt wrong because she wasn’t here.
And worse — she wouldn’t have come, even if he’d asked.
He didn’t notice the girl until she stepped into his line of sight.
Cute. Wavy hair. Confident smile. The kind of person who knew how to own her space.
“Hey,” she said, tipping her cup toward him. “You’re San, right?”
He nodded.
“Pharmacy building’s pretty far from music,” she continued. “But I’ve seen you around.”
He blinked. “How would you—”
“You’re the guy who always brings cold brew into 8 a.m. classes.”
Ah. That tracked.
She smiled again. “Want to dance?”
He hesitated.
But then something bitter bubbled up inside him — frustration, jealousy, the ache of being ignored, overlooked, unwanted.
He nodded and followed her onto the makeshift dance floor.
The music was loud, bodies swaying close.
The girl danced easily, drawing him in with playful glances and brushes of her fingers against his sleeve.
San moved with her, distracted and distant, his mind a hundred miles away. Every time she laughed, he thought of Y/N’s quieter chuckle. When she tugged him closer, he remembered how Y/N always sat just out of reach, even when they were alone.
He didn’t want this girl.
But he let her pull him into a quieter hallway anyway.
Her lips brushed against his.
They were warm. Soft.
But wrong.
So wrong.
San froze.
The girl leaned in again, but this time he gently caught her wrist and stepped back.
“Sorry,” he said, voice rough. “I… can’t.”
She looked surprised. “Is something wrong?”
He shook his head, guilt already weighing heavy in his chest. “No. You’re great. It’s not you.”
“Then what is it?”
He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Then sighed. “I just can’t stop thinking about someone else.”
She gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his chest. “Fair enough.”
San walked home alone in the cold night air.
The streets were mostly empty, save for the occasional passing car. His jacket wasn’t thick enough, and the wind stung his face, but he barely noticed.
All he could think about was how miserable it had felt to kiss someone who wasn’t her.
Back at the dorm, the lights were low. Most of the others had either gone to sleep or stayed out later. Only Seonghwa was awake, sitting in the kitchen, flipping through a book.
San dropped onto a chair across from him and buried his face in his arms.
“Didn’t go well?” Seonghwa asked softly.
San groaned. “It was a disaster.”
Seonghwa waited.
“I kissed someone,” San mumbled.
Silence.
“Okay,” Seonghwa said slowly. “And? Isn’t that like normal for you?”
“And I couldn’t do it,” San admitted. “I stopped. I walked out.”
Seonghwa set his book down. “Because of Y/N?”
San didn’t answer, which was an answer.
Seonghwa nodded. “You like her.”
“I don’t even know what that means anymore,” San muttered.
“It means you like her.”
“But she’s… She’s quiet. She doesn’t let anyone in.”
“She let you in.”
San hesitated.
“You’ve been the only one who’s seen her, really seen her,” Seonghwa said gently. “You think that’s nothing?”
San stared at the table.
“I don’t know if she feels the same,” he whispered.
“Then talk to her,” Seonghwa replied. “Or don’t. But don’t pretend this is casual anymore.”
Meanwhile, across the city, Y/N sat in a quiet café with Jisoo.
He’d found her after her pharmacy lab, insisting on catching up before he returned to training.
They sipped tea in silence for a while. Jisoo was always like that — unhurried, content to sit with the quiet.
Then, out of nowhere, he said, “You seem distracted lately.”
She blinked. “Do I?“
Jisoo just looked at her.
She bit her lip. “I guess I’m just tired.”
Jisoo tilted his head. “Is it about someone?”
Y/N hesitated.
“Your study partner, maybe?”
She shot him a startled glance.
Jisoo laughed. “You talk about him. Not often. But when you do, your voice changes.”
Y/N flushed. “It’s not like that.”
“I didn’t say it was,” Jisoo said kindly. “But you seem… unsure. Like you’re afraid to want something.”
She looked down at her cup. “He’s not like me.”
“Meaning?”
“He’s loud. Confident. People like him.”
Jisoo smiled softly. “So?”
“So I’m not that kind of person.”
He took a sip of tea. “You’re kind. Smart. Funny, even if no one sees it. If he doesn’t see that, he’s the one who’s not enough.”
Y/N looked up at him.
“Do you like him?” he asked.
She didn’t answer.
Jisoo didn’t push. He just smiled and said, “I hope you find someone who makes you feel like being yourself is enough. And I hope you will let that person in.”
Back at the dorm, San sat on his bed, headphones in, scrolling through old photos on his phone.
He had a few saved from group study sessions. A blurry one of Y/N tucking her hair behind her ear. Another of her glancing up with wide eyes mid-note.
He’d never had the courage to send them to her.
He didn’t even know why he’d taken them.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Wooyoung: “You alive?”
San typed back: “Barely.”
Then paused.
And added: “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
The typing bubble appeared.
“100%. But a love-sick one.”
San groaned.
Then typed a new message.
To her.
[San]: Are you free tomorrow?
°•°°°••••°°♡•••°°°°°°°•••••♡°°•°°•°°°°°♡•••
Y/N stared at the message when it came in.
She’d been curled in bed, reading over her chemistry notes, trying to block out the conversation she’d had with Jisoo.
She reread it twice.
It was simple.
Still, she didn’t answer right away.
Not because she didn’t want to.
But because she didn’t know if it would be really okay to hang out with him.
Y/N wasn’t sure why she agreed to hang out.
San had framed it vaguely. Something about relaxing. Something about a reward for finishing their latest round of project drafts early. Her initial instinct was to decline, as usual, but San had asked with that persistent glint in his eyes. The one that told her he wasn’t going to beg, but would probably annoy her about it until she said yes.
„Just a few hours,“ he’d said. „You need fresh air. You’re starting to look like a locked-in alchemist.“
That line alone had made her snort.
Now she stood stiffly outside a noisy arcade and convenience plaza in Hongdae, watching San jog over, hands shoved in his hoodie, looking a little too pleased with himself.
„You didn’t tell me this would involve other people,“ she said flatly.
San grinned, unbothered. „Surprise.“
„I don’t like surprises.“
„Yeah, I figured,“ he said. „But I think you’ll like them. My friends are cool. Loud. But cool.“
Before she could protest, a cluster of guys waved from across the pavement. Seven of them, to be precise.
San gestured. „Come on. You’re already here.“
She rolled her eyes but followed.
„So *this* is the mysterious pharmacy major,“ said Wooyoung, eyeing her with a teasing smirk.
„She’s got a vibe,“ Yeosang added, nudging his glasses up.
„I didn’t know San knew how to be friends with someone so quiet,“ Hongjoong remarked, genuinely curious.
Y/N crossed her arms. „I didn’t know San knew how to be friends with women, period.“
The table of guys burst out laughing. Even Jongho let out a low chuckle.
San looked slightly betrayed. „I’ll have you know I’m very supportive of women.“
„You’re supportive of flirting with them,“ Y/N deadpanned.
„She’s blunt as hell,“ Yunho muttered, watching her curiously.
Y/N didn’t try to soften the impression she gave. They could take her or leave her. She wasn’t here to charm anyone. She was here because San wouldn’t shut up until she agreed.
Still, she found the group dynamic surprisingly tolerable. Even… interesting. There was a natural rhythm between them. Chaos, sure, but grounded chaos. They all treated San like he was both their favorite and most exhausting sibling.
And San, in return, was… different around them.
A little softer. A little less performative. Less flirt, more friend.
It unsettled her in a way she couldn’t articulate.
They ended up playing a few arcade games. Y/N didn’t care for the noise, but there was a certain joy in watching Wooyoung yell in disbelief as she casually beat him at a rhythm game on her first try.
„You’re a menace,“ he gasped.
„You just suck,“ she replied simply.
San was laughing behind her, head tilted back, eyes crinkled.
„I told you she’d humble you,“ he said, nudging Wooyoung.
„I didn’t know she’d eviscerate me.“
„She’s like that all the time,“ San replied, fondly.
Y/N glanced at him. That tone again. Like he wasn’t talking about a classmate. Like she was something… closer.
She looked away.
Later, they all sat near the street food vendors, eating snacks and talking over one another.
Y/N picked at her tteokbokki quietly. Listening. Letting their energy pass over her like a tide.
„Y/N?“
She looked up to see a tall figure approaching.
„Jisoo?“
He grinned. „Wow. Didn’t think I would see you here.“
She stood up slightly. „Didn’t know you were on this side of town.“
„Practice let out early. And I’m starving.“
The guys fell into a subtle hush, observing the interaction.
„You can sit if you want,“ Y/N said.
San blinked.
Jisoo sat beside her with a nod to the others. „I’m Jisoo. Old friend.“
„We’re San’s friends,“ Mingi offered. „Well, technically his babysitters.“
That got a few chuckles.
„Y/N and I used to live down the street from each other,“ Jisoo explained. „She was always reading manga under the slide while everyone else played soccer.“
Y/N nodded. „Still do. Just indoors now.“
Jisoo smirked. „She used to threaten to hex people with her chemistry kits.“
„Only you,“ she corrected.
„Still counts.“
San was quiet. Watching. An unfamiliar tension pulled at his jaw.
The ease between them grated on him. That Jisoo had known her first. That he could talk about her like a permanent fixture. That she smiled more during this ten-minute exchange than she had all afternoon.
He hated how much it bothered him.
When Jisoo left, the dynamic shifted.
Y/N went back to quiet, but it was a thoughtful quiet.
San, for once, didn’t speak much. He kept his hands in his hoodie pocket. Kept glancing at her when she wasn’t looking.
Hongjoong noticed. Raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Later, when the group dispersed and it was just the two of them walking back toward the station, Y/N finally broke the silence.
„You’re weird today.“
San didn’t look at her. „Am I?“
„You keep sulking. You didn’t even make fun of Wooyoung’s reaction time.“
„Maybe I’m just tired.“
„Or jealous.“
He stopped.
She turned to face him. Calm. Unbothered. But her eyes searched his face.
He swallowed. „Of what?“
„I don’t know,“ she said plainly. „You tell me.“
He held her gaze for a beat longer, then looked away.
They stood like that for a few seconds too long.
Then she started walking again.
He followed.
That night, Y/N lay awake, staring at her ceiling.
She wasn’t sure what to make of today.
The guys weren’t awful. San was… weird. Not in a bad way. Just less obnoxious than usual. Quieter.
Maybe she threw him off. Maybe Jisoo did.
Either way, she couldn’t stop thinking about the look on his face when she’d teased him about being jealous.
He hadn’t denied it.
Not really.
At the same time, San was pacing his room.
Wooyoung, stretched on the bed, was scrolling through his phone lazily.
„You gonna say something or just walk holes into the floor?“
„She invited him to sit.“
„Who?“
„That guy. Jisoo. The one who knows her manga preferences.“
Wooyoung looked up. „Oh, you’re spiraling.“
„I’m not spiraling.“
„You’re emotionally imploding. Which is cute, honestly.“
San groaned.
„Dude. Just admit it. You like her. A lot.“
„She doesn’t even like people.“
„Yeah, and yet she spent all day with us for *you.* That means something.“
San sat on the edge of the bed.
„I think I messed up.“
„Nah. You’re just not used to having feelings that aren’t ego-driven.“
San threw a pillow at him.
Wooyoung ducked. „Text her.“
San considered it.
Then didn’t.
°•°°°••••°°♡•••°°°°°°°•••••♡°°•°°•°°°°°♡•••
Y/N hated rain.
Not for the poetic reasons most people did. Not because it was lonely or moody or reflected some deep metaphor about emotion.
She just hated being wet. She hated soggy clothes, squeaky shoes, and the way her hoodie clung to her arms like a soggy second skin. And she especially hated that she’d stayed late in the lab, missed the last bus, and was now standing under a flickering awning as the Seoul sky dumped buckets of cold water. And to top it all she lost her keys and her grandparents are out of town.
Miserable didn’t begin to cover it.
Her fingers were pale and stiff as she tried to text her grandparents that she was fine. She was used to doing everything alone — the commute, the workload, the errands — but today had pushed her limits.
Then she heard the umbrella.
“Seriously?” a voice called out through the downpour. “You don’t own a single raincoat?”
Y/N turned her head.
Choi San. Hoodie, joggers, sneakers soaked at the toes. Holding an umbrella large enough for two.
“I’m fine,” she said flatly.
“You look like a drowned cat.”
“Again. Fine.”
He ignored that and stepped closer, tilting the umbrella over her without asking.
“I saw you leaving the building while I was walking Wooyoung’s laundry over,” he explained. “He’s too good for wet socks, apparently.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, cheerful despite the cold.
Twenty minutes later, she was at his dorm.
His room was neater than expected — spare, with soft lighting and a few posters, a desk piled with unread textbooks, and one rogue dumbbell by the bed. He handed her an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, then pointed her toward the small attached bathroom.
“Dryer’s on already,” he said.
Y/N changed in silence, grateful for the warm fabric. The hoodie swallowed her frame. It smelled like citrus shampoo and something deeper — like cedarwood and warmth. She tried not to think about it.
When she came out, San was toweling his hair dry. Shirtless.
She blinked. Once. Then turned and made a beeline for the bed, sitting stiffly on the edge. Not trying to think about his abs.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“You’re very ‘fine’ today.”
She folded her arms.
He tossed the towel aside, sat on the floor, and leaned against the bed with a heavy extrying. I tried not to stare at his bare stomache. “It was kind of cool seeing you lose your composure, you know.”
I blinked. “I didn’t lose composure.”
“You were frozen. You looked like you’d slap me if I touched you.”
“You looked… distractingly shirtless.”
That made him pause.
“You think I’m distracting?” he grinned, tilting his head.
“I think I was cold and tired and not in the mood for your abs,” she said, perfectly deadpan.
He snorted. “You are seriously something else.”
Elsewhere, the dorm was alive with noise.
“Where’s San?” Yunho asked, carrying snacks into the living room.
“Probably still sulking,” Mingi offered.
“Or trying to impress pharmacy girl,” Yeosang muttered, not looking up from his laptop.
“Y/N,” Wooyoung corrected. “She has a name.”
“She also scares you.”
“She beat me at rhythm games and roasted my ego. That’s fair.”
“I like her,” Seonghwa added. “She’s straightforward.”
“I think San’s in trouble,” Hongjoong said, voice thoughtful.
Jongho raised a brow. “Why?”
“Because I’ve never seen him act like this about anyone.”
San stretched out on the floor, eyes on the ceiling.
“I was thinking,” he said quietly.
“Dangerous.”
“Do you always deflect when people care about you?”
Y/N tensed.
He didn’t push. Just waited.
Finally, she said, “I don’t like assuming people mean things they don’t.”
“Do you think I’m pretending to care?”
“You don’t even know me.”
He sat up slowly. “I know you read medical case studies for fun. I know you pretend to hate everyone, but you stayed the whole day with my friends even though it drained you. I know you eat strawberry pocky when you’re anxious and you triple-check every experiment before you start. I know you’re lonely, and you don’t know how to let people in.”
Silence.
“You’re wrong about the pocky,” she said quietly.
He smiled.
°•°°°••••°°♡•••°°°°°°°•••••♡°°•°°•°°°°°♡•••
The next day, she met Jisoo for coffee.
He raised an eyebrow when he saw her. “You look different.”
“I got caught in the rain,” she said. “San helped.”
“San,” he repeated. “That the guy from the arcade, your study partner ?”
“He’s irritating,” she muttered, stirring her tea.
“Irritating?”
“He doesn’t give up. Most people would.”
Jisoo leaned back. “And that bothers you?”
“I don’t know what he wants.”
“Maybe he just wants you to stop pushing him away.”
She was quiet for a long moment.
“I don’t get him,” she said finally.
“Maybe you’re not supposed to. Maybe you’re supposed to accept his feelings.”
“That’s worse.”
Jisoo laughed.
Later that night, San stood in the dorm kitchen, fiddling with the water kettle. His mind had been racing since Y/N left that afternoon — she’d smiled a little more. Teased him a little more. Still blunt, still unreadable… but somehow different.
He didn’t notice Wooyoung, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong walk in.
“You good?” Seonghwa asked.
San blinked. “Yeah. No. I don’t know.”
“Spit it out.”
San turned, towel slung over his shoulder, eyes distant.
“I think I’m falling for her.”
Wooyoung choked on his soda. “What?”
“I’m serious.”
“You sure?” Seonghwa said gently.
“I know enough. She’s different. She’s not trying to impress anyone. She doesn’t care who I am. She’s blunt and kind and… intriguing.”
Hongjoong leaned against the counter. “Do you think she likes you back?”
“I don’t know,” San admitted. “She looks at me like she’s trying to solve a puzzle.”
The room was silent for a moment.
“Then don’t rush it,” Seonghwa said. “Let it grow.”
Meanwhile, Y/N lay in bed replaying every second of the day.
San in the rain. San offering his hoodie. San shirtless and smiling like he had nothing to hide.
Her pulse jumped just remembering it.
And the way he looked at her — not like a challenge, not like someone to conquer, but like someone worth knowing.
She hated how much it made her ache. So she decided to distract herself.
Y/N had never been good at parties.
The noise, the forced conversations, the social expectations—it was all exhausting. She had only agreed to join Jisoo and a few of his teammates because he practically begged her after their midterms. „Come on, just one night. You deserve a break,“ he had said, nudging her phone out of her hands.
Now, sitting stiffly at a round table in a private room of a barbecue place near campus, she regretted every decision that led to this point.
Beer bottles clinked. Laughter roared around her. Someone was shouting about chicken gizzards and sauce ratios. She stared at the amber liquid in her cup like it held the secrets of the universe.
„Y/N, you’ve barely touched your drink,“ Jisoo said, nudging her arm. He was already flushed, his easy smile a little looser than usual.
„It tastes like regret,“ she muttered.
Jisoo snorted. „One more sip. If you’re not having fun in fifteen minutes, we leave. Deal?“
She nodded. Deal.
A few sips turned into a few cups, and the buzz came on slowly. Warmth unfurling in her chest, dissolving the walls she usually kept so carefully built.
„Y/N, any romance in your life?“ one of Jisoo’s teammates called out, teasing.
She blinked. „What?“
„You’re always so serious. There’s gotta be someone making you blush.“
A few eyes turned to her, amused and curious. Y/N, still reserved but looser with alcohol, let out a small laugh.
„There might be… an idiot.“
„Oooh,“ they chorused. „Tell us!“
She swirled her drink. „He’s annoying. Always teasing. Never shuts up.“
„Sounds awful.“
„He’s also kind. Way too kind. And he doesn’t know how to give up. He keeps showing up.“
Her cheeks were flushed now, but it wasn’t just the alcohol. She didn’t see Jisoo watching her carefully.
„Y/N,“ Jisoo said gently a few minutes later, after pulling her aside near the entrance. „Do you mean San?“
She groaned, hiding her face in her hands. „I don’t know what I mean. He’s like… some virus that won’t leave my system.“
„So you like him.“
„I think I do. I think I hate that I do.“
She hiccupped.
„Okay, that’s enough soju for you,“ Jisoo said.
A few minutes later, when she couldn’t find her keys, Jisoo did the only thing he could think of: he called San.
San showed up ten minutes later in joggers and a hoodie, hair still damp from a shower.
„She’s a little out of it,“ Jisoo explained.
„What happened?“
„Midterm stress. She needed to blow off steam. I didn’t think she’d drink that much.“
San nodded, then turned to Y/N. She was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, hood up, eyes sleepy but sharp when they found his face.
„I lost my keys,“ she muttered.
„I’ve got you,“ he said softly.
The ride to the dorm was quiet. Y/N’s head leaned against the window, her breath fogging up the glass.
San stole glances when the lights turned red. Her lashes fluttered. Her hands were tucked into his hoodie sleeves.
She looked small. And kind of heartbreakingly beautiful.
Back at the dorm, he guided her to his room, where she flopped onto the bed with a dramatic sigh.
„You’re weird,“ she mumbled.
He laughed. „You’re one to talk.“
She sat up suddenly, eyes focused on him like a laser.
„Why are you so nice to me?“
He blinked. „What do you mean?“
„You keep… trying. And I keep pushing. You’re a flirt. Everyone knows it. But you look at me like… like I matter. Why?“
Her voice cracked on the last word.
„Because you do,“ he said quietly.
Y/N stared at him for a long moment. Then she stood, wobbling slightly.
„I shouldn’t say this,“ she whispered, voice slurred, „but you make it really hard to hate you.“
And then she kissed him.
It wasn’t gentle. It was clumsy and uncoordinated and sudden. Her hands curled into his hoodie. Her lips were soft but demanding.
For a second, San kissed back. His mind went blank. Just her, her scent, her warmth.
Then he pulled back.
„Y/N,“ he said, breathless. „We can’t. Not like this.“
She blinked slowly, confused. „Why not?“
„Because you won’t remember. Because I want this to mean something.“
She swayed, and he caught her, gently guiding her back onto the bed.
„Sleep,“ he whispered.
She closed her eyes.
„San…“
He froze. But she didn’t say anything else. Just curled into his hoodie and drifted off.
Later that night, San sat in the kitchen, staring into a mug of tea.
Wooyoung padded in, rubbing his eyes. „You look like you’ve seen a ghost.“
„Y/N kissed me.“
That woke Woo up fast.
„She what?“
„She was drunk. I brought her back. She kissed me. And I stopped it.“
„Wow.“
„I think I’m in trouble.“
„Do you want her to kiss you when she’s sober?“
San looked down at the steam curling from the mug.
„Yeah.“
„Then wait for her.“
„I’m trying.“
In the morning, Y/N would wake up with a headache, a faint memory of warmth, and the scent of citrus and cedar still clinging to her.
Y/N pretended she didn’t remember.
When she woke up in San’s dorm the next morning, her head was pounding and her mouth tasted like regret. He had already left the room. The blanket over her had been neatly tucked, a water bottle placed beside her, and her phone charged. But she didn’t ask what happened.
And he didn’t tell her.
She just stood in the doorway with the borrowed hoodie still on her back and mumbled, “Thanks,” before slipping out of the dorm and out of the moment.
Like it had never happened.
Three days later, and San still hadn’t heard from her.
He’d waited for a message. A knock on his door. A sarcastic jab. Anything.
But there was nothing.
It was driving him insane.
“You’re pacing again,” Wooyoung said, tossing a chip into his mouth. “Stop before you wear out the floor.”
“She kissed me, Woo.”
“I know.”
“And now she’s pretending it didn’t happen.”
“Because she’s scared,” Seonghwa said, entering the living room. “She probably thinks it was a mistake.”
San scoffed. “It wasn’t a mistake.”
“You sure?” Yeosang quipped from the kitchen. “You’ve kissed half the campus.”
San turned. “And I’ve never once stopped a kiss before.”
Silence.
“Fair,” Jongho muttereDd.
The next morning, Y/N walked into class like nothing had happened.
She took her usual seat three rows from the front, opened her notes, and stared straight ahead. Her posture was perfect. Her hair was pinned back. Her expression was unreadable.
San sat two rows behind her, struggling to breathe.
He watched her scribble down formulas, the same way she always did — left margin, bullet points, perfect loops. Not even a glance in his direction.
When class ended, he stood quickly.
“Y/N,” he called, catching up to her outside the lecture hall.
She didn’t slow.
“Y/N.”
She turned. Her eyes were tired, sharp. “What?”
“We need to talk.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“You kissed me.”
“I was drunk.”
“So you do remember.”
Silence.
“I don’t see how it matters,” she said, voice clipped.
San’s jaw tightened. “It matters to me.”
She scoffed and took a step back. “Why do you care so much?”
“Because—” he stopped. “Because I do.”
“That’s not a reason, San. You care about everyone. You flirt with everyone. I’m not special.”
“Don’t say that.”
She looked at him then — really looked — and something flickered in her expression.
“I don’t belong in your world,” she said, loud enough for others to start turning their heads. “So stop acting like I do.”
Students paused as they walked by. A few slowed, sensing the tension.
San didn’t care.
“You think I care about that?” he said, his voice rising. “You think this is some game to me?”
Y/N stayed silent.
“I’ve never felt like this before, Y/N!” he shouted, hands clenching. “Not for anyone.”
People were definitely staring now.
“I can’t sleep, I can’t think straight, I can’t even kiss someone else without seeing your face!”
Her mouth parted slightly. Her cheeks flushed.
“I don’t care that you’re quiet, or blunt, or awkward, or that you pretend you don’t feel anything,” he said, softer now. “I see you. I like you. All of you.”
The air felt heavy.
Y/N blinked.
“I never wanted to fall for you,” he said. “But I did. And you can pretend you forgot, but I know you didn’t.”
And then he turned — and walked away, leaving everyone stunned.
°•°°°••••°°♡•••°°°°°°°•••••♡°°•°°•°°°°°♡•••
Later that evening, Y/N sat on the floor of her room, her notebook forgotten beside her.
She couldn’t get his voice out of her head.
I’ve never felt like this before.
I can’t sleep.
I see you.
He had said it in front of everyone. No hesitation. No fear.
And she had stood there like an idiot, letting him spill his heart while she said nothing.
Why?
Because she didn’t believe she deserved it?
Because she thought he’d grow bored?
Because she was terrified of being vulnerable?
Her hands trembled.
She had spent her whole life protecting herself. Avoiding emotion. Hiding behind logic and structure and silence.
But San hadn’t just seen through that — he’d embraced it.
Back at the dorm, San sat slouched on the couch, hoodie pulled over his head.
“You okay?” Wooyoung asked.
“No.”
“That was… a bold move.”
San sighed. “She’s going to hate me.”
“Or,” Seonghwa said, “she’s going to finally admit what she’s feeling.”
“Or she’s going to block me and change Cities.”
“You did what you had to,” Jongho offered. “No one else would’ve gotten through to her.”
That night, Y/N stared at her ceiling for hours.
And in the deepest, quietest part of her chest, something cracked.
Because maybe she hadn’t forgotten the kiss.
And maybe she didn’t want to.
°•°°°••••°°♡•••°°°°°°°•••••♡°°•°°•°°°°°♡•••
It had been almost a full day since San’s confession, and Y/N still hadn’t moved past the overwhelming ache in her chest.
She had done what she always did. Pretended nothing happened. Built her wall higher. Said nothing. And he, of all people, had laid himself bare in front of everyone.
„I’ve never felt like this before, Y/N.”
His voice kept replaying in her head like a broken record.
She wanted to run away from it. From the weight of his feelings. From the terrifying possibility that he meant it.
So when Jisoo texted her „You alive?“, she asked if they could talk. Really talk.
They sat on a low bench at their usual spot in a quiet corner of the university courtyard. It was overcast, the kind of gray sky that dulled the noise of the world.
Y/N hunched over, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands.
„You heard of it, didn’t you?“
Jisoo tilted his head. „You mean the part where Choi San poured his entire heart out in front of the chemistry department? Yeah, I caught it.“
She groaned and buried her face in her hands. „It was a mess.“
„Only for you. He looked like a drama lead having his main character moment.“
Y/N shot him a look. „Not helping.“
Jisoo softened. „Sorry. But what’s really going on?“
She was quiet for a long time. Then: „I don’t know how to do this.“
„Do what?“
„Open up. Let someone care about me. Especially someone like him.“
Jisoo exhaled. „Y/N, you’re one of the kindest people I know. So what if you’re quiet? So what if you don’t say things easily? You’re not broken. You’re just scared.“
„He kissed me. Or I kissed him. I don’t even know.“
„And?“
„And it felt real. Too real. So I pretended I didn’t remember.“
He gave her a flat look. „That’s cruel.“
„I know.“
„You need to talk to him.“
„He deserves better.“
„Maybe. But he chose you.“
That shut her up.
„And for what it’s worth,“ Jisoo added, nudging her shoulder, „I’ve never seen anyone get under your skin like this.“
She gave him a sideways glance. „You mean besides you.“
„Yeah, but I’m family. He’s… something else.“
Y/N looked down at her lap. Something else. That was exactly the problem.
San had been slamming weights harder than necessary for a full thirty minutes when he noticed someone enter the gym.
Jisoo.
He was in full warm-up gear, towel around his neck, earbuds in.
San tried to ignore him. Focus on his reps. Channel the chaos in his head.
But Jisoo approached anyway.
„You trying to break your back or something?“
San gave him a look. „Not now, man.“
„Tough day?“
San dropped the barbell and sat up. „Let me guess. You’re here to tell me to back off.“
Jisoo blinked. „Why would I do that?“
„ I know you and Y/N are close.“
Jisoo snorted. „Dude. She’s basically my sister.“
San hesitated. „Really?“
„Yes. Always has been. You think I’d let just anyone embarrass her in front of half the campus without punching them?“
San blinked. „So… you’re not mad?“
„I’m protective, not possessive. There’s a difference.“
San let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. „She’s been ignoring me.“
„She’s scared. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t care.“
San nodded slowly. „I just… don’t know what else to do.“
„You already did it. You told her. Now you wait. And trust her to come to you.“
That night, Y/N sat curled up in bed, clutching her phone.
She scrolled back through old messages.
San: don’t forget to eat
San: this professor is trying to kill us
San: don’t let them make you feel small
The texts had always seemed like noise at the time. Friendly check-ins. Annoying persistence.
But now, each one felt like a thread in a tapestry she had never bothered to look at closely.
She opened her photo gallery. Found the selfie he’d taken on her phone when she wasn’t looking. Cross-eyed, grinning. A stupid peace sign.
She smiled.
Her thumb hovered over the call button. Then dropped.
Instead, she stood. Changed. Grabbed her coat.
And walked.
When she reached the dorm, her heart was in her throat.
She hesitated in front of the building. The windows glowed softly against the night. Her fingers trembled as she rang the bell.
It took a minute, but the door opened.
Hongjoong blinked at her, surprised. „Y/N?“
She tried to smile. „Is San home?“
He nodded slowly. „Yeah. Come in.“
The dorm was quiet. A soft murmur of music came from one of the rooms.
Hongjoong gestured. „Second door on the right.“
She knocked.
Inside, San called, „Not now, Woo. I’m not in the mood.“
Y/N opened the door anyway.
San sat up in bed, hair messy, hoodie loose. His eyes widened.
„Y/N.“
She took a deep breath.
„I remember everything.“
San stared at her like he couldn’t believe she was real.
Y/N stood just inside his room, the door still slightly ajar behind her. Her voice lingered in the air: „I remember everything.“
She looked nervous, but not unsure. Her fingers fidgeted at her sides, but her eyes didn’t leave his.
„You do?“ he asked, voice soft.
She nodded. „All of it. The kiss. The way you looked at me. How you put me to bed and didn’t take advantage of the moment.“
San let out a shaky breath. „Then why have you been acting like it didn’t happen?“
Y/N stepped further in, closing the door gently behind her. „Because I was scared.“
„Of what?“
She swallowed hard. „Of what it means to fall for someone like you.“
San blinked. His heart kicked against his ribs.
She sat on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap.
„I’ve never been in a relationship before,“ she admitted. „I always thought… it wasn’t for me. That I was too quiet. Too awkward. Too reserved.“
„You’re not too anything,“ he said immediately.
She smiled, just barely. „But you’re everything I thought I could never have. You’re loud and open and charismatic. Everyone notices you.“
She looked up at him. „And you noticed me.“
San didn’t say anything. He sat next to her instead, close but not touching.
Y/N exhaled. „I don’t know why you would fall for someone like me. I say the wrong things. I overthink. I push people away.“
„And you’re kind,“ he said quietly. „You listen. You care more than you let on. You’re honest when it counts, and you have this quiet strength that makes people underestimate you. But I see it. I see you.“
She blinked back something suspiciously wet in her eyes.
San reached over, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. „I fell for you because you’re real. Because you didn’t pretend to be anyone else around me. And because for the first time in my life, someone saw me too. Not Choi San, the flirt. Not the guy everyone expects things from. Just me.“
The silence between them pulsed with energy.
Then she leaned in.
And so did he.
When their lips met, it wasn’t hesitant. It wasn’t experimental.
It was inevitable.
The kiss started soft. A breath shared, a heartbeat held.
San cupped her cheek like she might vanish if he didn’t hold her steady.
But Y/N’s hands curled into his hoodie, pulling him closer.
His lips parted, letting the kiss deepen, and a quiet sound escaped him—a low, unintentional moan that made her shiver.
He pulled back just slightly. „We don’t have to rush this.“
Her fingers tugged at the hem of his hoodie.
„I know,“ she whispered. „But I want to. With you.“
His eyes searched hers. „Are you sure?“
She nodded.
San kissed her again, slower now, savoring it. „I just want to do this right.“
„Then stop thinking,“ she murmured against his mouth. „And stay.“
That was all the permission he needed.
Clothes were shed between breathless kisses. Her skin felt like warmth and want beneath his fingertips. He touched her like she mattered. Like she was precious.
Because she was.
Y/N had never done this before, but it didn’t feel foreign. It felt like trust. Like discovery.
San took his time, even as she guided him with quiet urgency. The air between them was charged but gentle, desire wrapped in reverence.
When it happened, it wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t perfect. But it was real.
And when he held her afterward, bodies tangled in soft sheets and half-whispers, she buried her face into his chest and sighed.
„I think I was falling for you from the beginning,“ she said.
San kissed the top of her head. „Then I’m glad I caught you.“
San lay awake, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting gently on Y/N’s bare shoulder. The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a pale glow across her features.
She looked peaceful. Vulnerable. Real.
And his.
He couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop memorizing every detail. The way her lashes brushed her cheeks. The slight part in her lips. The steady rise and fall of her breathing.
He reached out and brushed his fingers gently along her jaw.
“You’re the one,” he whispered, barely audible. “I want to build something real with you.”
Then, ever so softly, he leaned in and kissed her forehead.
Careful not to wake her, he slid out of bed, pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, and padded quietly into the hallway.
He made his way to the kitchen, intending to grab two glasses of water, but was greeted by all seven of his friends sitting at the table, wide awake.
„Well, well, well,“ Wooyoung said, wiggling his eyebrows.
„Look who finally emerged from the love cave,“ Jongho teased, sipping his coffee.
San blinked. „What are you guys even doing up?“
„You weren’t exactly subtle last night,“ Mingi muttered into his cereal.
Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. „So? What happened?“
San grinned, cheeks red but smile unstoppable. „She’s my girlfriend . Officially.“
A round of groans and claps echoed across the table.
„Gross,“ Yeosang said, mock gagging.
Just then, a soft voice drifted down the hallway. „San…?“
San turned just as Y/N appeared at the edge of the kitchen entrance, one of his oversized t-shirts draped down to her thighs, bare legs peeking beneath. Her hair was tousled, eyes still sleepy.
All seven boys froze.
San’s eyes widened. He moved fast, practically lunging to block her from their view.
„Hey, hey, hey! No peeking! Go back to bed, I’ll bring you water,“ he said, flustered.
Y/N blinked. „Why is everyone awake?“
„Because fate is cruel,“ Seonghwa said, shielding his eyes.
San wrapped his arms around her protectively, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her cheek, then her temple, then her forehead. „Ignore them. You look perfect.“
„Oh my God,“ Wooyoung groaned. „Make it stop.“
„Seriously, can’t you wait until we’re not in the same room?“ Jongho muttered.
But San just smiled and kissed her again.
Y/N rolled her eyes but leaned into him, hiding her red face against his chest.
And for the first time in a long time, San felt completely, irreversibly happy.
・❥・ summary: your job has been consuming all of your time and energy lately, and your boyfriend has been craving your attention. you finally have a free day together, and he’s taken it upon himself to tease you and push your buttons all day long, working you up and up until you can’t stand it anymore… and neither can he.
・❥・ warnings/tags: MDNI! 18+, explicit, smut, fluff, established relationship, dom/sub dynamics, woo is a cute whiny brat<3, he’s lowkey a service sub..??, y/n is super overwhelmed with her job, woo calls y/n baby and angel, light bondange, oral sex (f receiving), face riding, fingering, unprotected sex (don’t), creampie, got a little emo and wholesome at the end there my bad (i could not help myself), lmk if i missed anything !
・❥・ pairing: sub!wooyoung x softdom!fem!reader
・❥・ author’s note: y’all… woo being a bratty sub just … makes sense. this fic has been in the works for a while as i’ve gotten a few other stories done and im so excited to finally be posting it! this is my first time writing woo so i hope you enjoy (: i’m also relatively new to writing so any constructive feedback is appreciated~!
It’s been hours. Hours of your boyfriend’s lingering touches, filthy whispers, suggestive comments… All morning long he’s been ramping it up, seeing how far he can push you until you can’t handle it anymore. He’s having a blast, but you’re about to kill him.
“Can you get your head out of your ass and help me shop, please?” You playfully nudge him in the ribs with your elbow after he “accidentally” brushes a palm over your ass for the millionth time.
“It’s hard for me to focus on shopping when I’m sooo hungry, baby,” he whines as you turn into the produce section, his lips brushing over the shell of your ear.
“We ate before we came, Youngie,” the warmth of his breath has goosebumps prickling your skin, but you try to shake it off to focus on what you need to grab for dinner tonight. He chuckles as he steps in front of the cart, remembering what you need before you do, grabbing a bundle of scallions and tossing it on top of the meat in your cart. He sticks one foot in front of one of the wheels, making you stop with a jerk. You glare at him with a furrowed brow, bracing yourself for what’s about to come out of his mouth. He’s got that fucking look in his eyes, you think to yourself.
“I didn’t say I was hungry for food,” he smirks at you, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue as a deep shade of crimson blooms across your cheeks.
“Jung Wooyoung, we are at the grocery store,” you whisper, “can you take it down a notch?” You glance around you to make sure no poor strangers heard his comment. His hungry eyes drag over your body, clearly having little regard for the other patrons of the store.
“Hmm, no,” he quips, “I don’t want to.” He winks at you before spinning on his heel to make his way around the produce section, grabbing everything else that you need for the week. You roll your eyes at him, but feel grateful he’s stopped his incessant teasing to actually be helpful. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face when he returns to the cart, and you realize your moment of peace was short-lived.
“Did the potatoes say something funny?” You taunt him, crossing your arms as he puts everything in the cart.
“No, you’re just really hot when you’re annoyed with me,” his voice quiets slightly as another couple walks by. “You know you love it,” his eyes dart to your lips before meeting your gaze again, that glint in his eye making your belly warm. You ignore him, knowing it’ll only egg him on even more. You back the cart up a little so you can steer around him, his eyebrows raising as you’re about to pass him. He sticks an arm in front of you, wrapping his fingers around your waist before dipping his head down to whisper in your ear again, “don’t pretend like you aren’t wet right now, baby.”
Stifling a gasp and ignoring how absolutely correct he is, you slide out of his grasp and head toward the bakery. You need to get him home before you get yourselves arrested for public indecency.
The rest of your shopping trip is riddled with more of Wooyoung’s incessant flirting and fleeting touches, and by the time he loads all the groceries into the car for you, you’re about ready to lose it. He drives you both home, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh, frequently squeezing dangerously close to your core, with just enough pressure to make you dizzy.
You put your groceries away in silence, both of you clearly waiting to see who will crack first. Unfortunately for your boyfriend, you’re feeling especially stubborn today. Despite how much his wandering hands and eyes are affecting you, you try not to let it show, knowing that’ll only make him try harder… Maybe he’ll even start begging.
Wooyoung seems to have disappeared as you put the last of the snacks in the pantry, and for a moment you think maybe he’s given up. Wrong.
“Are you done giving me the silent treatment?” He whispers from behind you, startling you so badly that you drop a box of Pepero as you spin around to face him.
“God dammit, Wooyoung,” you run your hands through your hair in frustration as he drops to his knees in front of you to pick up the box.
“Ah, my favorite angle of you,” he looks up at you, his deep brown eyes twinkling under the warm lights of your kitchen.
“Is that why you scared me? So you’d have an excuse to get on your fucking knees in front of me?” You can feel your cheeks heating, both anger and lust pumping through your veins.
He beams at you, satisfied that you’re letting your resolve slip a bit. “I’d like to think I don’t need an excuse to get on my knees for you, baby.” He darts his tongue out to wet his lips, drawing the bottom one between his teeth.
“You are such a fucking brat,” you glare down at him, snatching the Pepero out of his hand as he offers it to you and tossing it on the counter behind him.
“And you are fucking hot when you talk to me like that,”
“Shut up, Wooyoung, oh my–”
“Make me,” he interrupts you, his teasing gaze shifting to something much more wanting. “Please, make me.”
There it is.
You gawk at him in silence, the corner of your mouth tugging up into a smirk as you let his challenge hang in the air between you.
Desperation takes over his features and his breathing turns shaky as he practically whimpers, “please, please, make me shut up, baby.” He’s so pretty when he begs. He wraps his hands around the backs of your thighs, pulling you closer to him, resting his chin on one of your thighs as he looks up at you. “Please.”
You gently thread your fingers through his dark hair, wrapping your hand around the back of his head before tightening your grip on his locks, pulling his head back. He groans at the pain, a hoarse laugh falling from his lips, his breath quickening as he admires you towering over him. “And how would you like me to do that?” You question him, noticing the outline of his stiffening cock straining against the fabric of his sweatpants.
“Surprise me,” he breathes, hissing as you tighten your grip on his hair, pulling him up to force him to stand again. If he wants a surprise, he’s about to get his favorite one.
“Be a good boy for me, Youngie…” your voice dips into the sultry tone you only use for him. “Go take your clothes off and lay in our bed, okay? Can you do that for me?” Releasing your grip, you take a deep breath as Wooyoung’s eyes light up and he giddily nods before hopping up to run toward your bedroom. You roll your eyes briefly at his excitement, knowing he’d break you today no matter what. He’s just so cute when he tries so hard, and you’ve missed the banter throughout your busy work schedule this past week. Maybe you both really needed this.
Making a brief pitstop in the bathroom, you give your boyfriend a moment to get settled as you change into your black silk robe that always makes him weak. The shuffling sounds from your bedroom cease as you walk towards it, and you pass through the doorway to see Wooyoung exactly how you were hoping you’d find him.
His clothes are in a pile on the floor, his head propped against the pillows, one hand wrapped around his leaking cock while the other rests cradling the back of his head. His lips are slightly parted, his eyes glazed over at the sight of you in your robe.
“Fuck,” he whines, “you look so fucking good,”
You stalk toward him silently, slowly untying your robe and letting your breasts peek out through the opening. He squeezes the base of his cock as his eyes rake over your body, freezing when you furrow your brow at him. Once you reach him you grab his wrist, his grip loosening on his length immediately. You hear his breath catch in his throat, realizing his mistake.
“I don’t remember telling you that you could touch yourself, Youngie,” you tease him, a fake pout on your lips. With your free hand, you pull the silk tie from the loops of your robe, ever so slowly, grinning as Wooyoung lifts both arms above his head. “Good boy,” you praise him as you use the tie to gently bind his wrists together, guiding his hands around one of the metal bars of your headboard. “Hold onto this until I tell you that you can let go. Do you understand?”
He nods so fast his cheeks jiggle a little, and you have to stop yourself from giggling at how cute he looks. You press a soft kiss to the middle of his forehead before letting your robe fall open completely, giving him a moment to admire your body. The cool air kisses your nipples, and you feel them begin to peak at the sensation.
“Scoot down a little for me, will you? I think I need a little more space to sit.”
“Y-yes, okay,” he stutters, eyes blown wide, wiggling down the mattress until his arms are flush against the sides of his head, his knuckles turning white from the strength of his grip on the bar.
You climb up onto the bed, swinging a knee over his body to straddle him, hovering right over his cock, velvety and solid, resting against his stomach. His chest heaves as he drinks in the sight of you, resisting the urge to reach out and run his fingers over your pert nipples.
“So obedient for me, keeping your hands to yourself like I asked you to,” you coo, rolling your hips downward, barely brushing your cunt over the length of his cock. He hisses at the feeling, nibbling on his bottom lip. “But you’ve been a little too mouthy for my liking today, Youngie,” you lift your hips again, a needy whine leaving his mouth as he tries to lift his own hips to reach you again, but you plant a hand firmly in the middle of his stomach and push him back down.
“I-I’m sorry baby, I just wanted to tease you a little because I’ve m-missed you, you’ve been so busy” he pouts, continuing to wriggle his hips beneath you.
“I’ve missed you too, sweetie, but you know better than that,” you taunt, starting to scoot up his torso inch by inch until you’re straddling his chest. Your silk robe trails behind you, running over Wooyoung’s exposed body. He hisses as the smooth material glides over his cock, and he struggles to stop himself from thrusting into the sensation.
“Do I?” A devious glint in his eyes tells you he’s still not done instigating.
“You should,” you reach out to grip his jaw in your hand, squishing his cheeks. “But you get off on me being mean to you, don’t you?” You lower your core onto the firm plane of his chest, rolling your hips over him, and he groans at the feeling of your arousal gliding across his skin, his eyes glued to your center as you move. “You instigate, you push my buttons all day long, because you want me to lose control, hm?” You emphasize each string of words with a roll of your hips, earning another delicious whine from your boyfriend.
“It’s not my f-fault you’re s-sexy when you’re angry,” he chokes out, his arousal getting the best of him, stopping him from sounding as snarky as he intended. He stumbles over his words as you pull your robe up his length, savoring the feeling of the silk gliding over his sensitive cock. “Ah,” he whimpers, throwing his head back and gripping the bar of your headboard even tighter.
“Well, my sweet boy, you are sexy when you’re putting that pretty mouth to good use,” you thumb his bottom lip, and his eyes roll back at the contact. “Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, baby,” he nods, “use my mouth please, I want you to use my mouth,” his brow furrows as he boasts his prettiest begging face, giving you that look that makes you crumble. Seeing him so willing to please you always makes your heart swell in your chest.
“Such a good boy,” you card your fingers through his hair, his dark eyes dancing across every exposed inch of your skin. “Let go if you need a break, okay honey?” You look to where his hands are still tightly gripped around your headboard.
“I won’t,” he grins, and you know he means it, but you still want him to agree. You gently pinch his earlobe. “Ah,” he whines, screwing his eyes shut for a moment at the pain, “yes, I will,”
“Mhm,” you lift your center from his chest to move further up the bed, watching your boyfriend’s eyes light up as your cunt finally comes fully into view. He chews on his bottom lip, waiting for you to get comfortable. You let your robe fall from your shoulders completely, and drop it on the floor next to your bed.
“You’ve been so patient, my sweetheart,” you praise him, settling each knee on either side of his arms, effectively pinning them down next to his head. You swear you hear him purr at the sight of you, a muscle in his jaw feathering as he restrains himself, waiting for you to give him permission to taste you. His eyes grow darker with each second that passes, and you can feel his eagerness radiating off of him. “Ready?”
“I’ve been ready since I woke up this morning, y/n,” he rasps, licking his lips.
You could keep the banter going, but despite your hardened facade, you need him just as badly. You brush a dark strand of hair from his forehead as you finally lower your center within reach of his mouth.
Wooyoung immediately licks you from your entrance to your clit, repeating his tongues movement as you get comfortable in your lowered position. He groans at the taste of you, lapping at you. You brace yourself on the headboard, the tension in your body melting away at the feeling of his tongue on you. You didn’t realize how much of a toll your busy schedule had taken on your body and your mind, or how much it made you miss your boyfriend.
“You taste so good, baby,” he groans, “sit down all the way, suffocate me,” he reconnects with your center, flicking his tongue over your swelling clit.
“If you need a break—“
”If I need a break,” he interrupts you firmly, “I will tell you, but I do not see that happening until I make you come on my face. Now, will you please shut your beautiful mouth and let me take care of you?” He looks up at you from his prone position, his eyes ablaze.
His sudden steady tone shakes you, and you realize you’ve made him just as impatient as he’s made you. How the tables have turned. You nod, and he instantly reconnects with your clit. You fully sit on his face, and you can’t help but throw your head back as he sucks your sensitive bud into his mouth, pleasure shooting through your body.
“Fuck, Youngie,” you whine, earning a core-rumbling hum in response. He slides his tongue back to your entrance, pushing inside gently, and he chuckles as you squeeze around it. He pushes inside even deeper, the tip of his beautiful nose bumping against your clit. You can’t help but rock your hips, grinding down onto his face, using your grip on the headboard for leverage. He nods as much as he can under the restraints of your body, urging you to keep going.
“Mhm,” he mumbles, slipping his tongue out of you to flatten it against your clit, nodding again. You roll your hips over his tongue and he hums in approval. You rock against him faster, harder, each firm brush of his tongue over your clit drawing you closer to the edge.
“F-feels so good,” you breathe, feeling him grin under you. You glance down at him, a smile pushing through your lust at how smug he looks, raising an eyebrow at you. Even with you riding his face, he manages to find a way to give you a little attitude. If you didn’t have a searing heat pooling in your belly, you’d reach behind your back to wrap your hand around his cock… surely that would put him in check.
You can’t help but forget that idea the second he tenses his tongue against you, the extra pressure pushing you further toward your release, your grip tightening on the headboard in front of you. Your whole body warms, an electric current shooting straight to where your body meets his as you continue to roll your hips over his mouth.
”I’m so close,” you warn him, and he smirks against you once more, flicking his tongue as much as he can under the beautiful weight of your body, just enough to push you over the edge.
You tense your burning thighs and screw your eyes shut as your orgasm courses through you, leaning over your boyfriend to rest your forehead against the headboard, lifting off of his mouth slightly, giving him room to softly lick at you, gently coaxing you through. You lift off of him further, and he begins peppering your inner thighs with kisses.
“So pretty,” he coos from under you, his soft voice soothing you as your breathing steadies. You slowly open your eyes to see him beaming up at you, still keeping an iron grip on the headboard. “My girl,” he whispers.
“So good,” you praise him, placing a hand over his. “Let go, Youngie,”
“You sure?” He checks, loosening his grip slightly.
“Yes, baby, your fingers look like they’re gonna shrivel up and fall off,” you both laugh, and you untie his hands as he flexes his fingers. You scoot down to straddle his stomach, slowly lowering his right arm, massaging his shoulder as you do. “Feeling okay?” You didn’t realize how tightly your thighs were squeezing his arms against his head, and you feel a spike of panic as you realize how much he might be hurting.
“More than okay, angel,” he says, watching you with so much admiration in his gaze, it makes your chest ache. “I’m okay, I promise,” he assures you, sensing your anxiety. He knows you so well. You finish kneading the tightness out of his right shoulder and let him rest his hand on your thigh as you start on his left. He immediately splays his hand wide across your leg, rubbing a thumb over your skin while you slowly lower his left arm, not expressing so much as a wince, reassuring you further that he’s not hurt.
You rest his hand on your other thigh, and he starts massaging your sore muscles as you do the same to his. You sit in comfortable silence, until he inches his hands up your thighs, and yours freeze as you realize what he’s doing.
“Wooyoung…”
“Hm?” He smirks at you, his hands creeping closer and closer to your center. “You’ve been working so hard… Let me take care of you.” Your job has been driving you into the ground, expecting so much from you and giving you more and more responsibilities, you feel like you’re losing control. Maybe it’s finally time for you to hand the control over to someone else, even if it's just for the night.
“Yes, please,” you nod slowly, running your hands down your boyfriend’s chest.
Wooyoung carefully runs the pad of his thumb over your center, adding a little pressure when he reaches your clit. His other hand coasts up your belly to your chest, fingers tenderly wrapping around one of your breasts. You melt into his touch, letting every stressor from recent days slip to the back of your mind.
“Why don’t you lay down, angel? Get comfortable,” you nod wordlessly at his suggestion, sliding off of Wooyoung, with his gentle guidance, to snuggle up next to him. He rolls onto his side, sliding his hand between your legs, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he whispers against your mouth.
“I love you, Youngie,” you welcome his tongue into your mouth with a breathy moan as he slips a skilled finger inside of you. The taste of yourself in his mouth only makes you feel more eager. He rolls onto his side, pressing his body against yours, his solid length rubbing against your belly.
“I love you,” he pumps his finger a few times before adding another, immediately curling them inside of you, so familiar with your body and how to please you. He kisses you hard, swallowing all of your whines, the sounds of your arousal making his cock twitch against you. You realize how much he must be aching for some relief.
“I want you inside of me, please,” you widen your legs further, opening yourself up to him.
“Don’t have to ask me twice,” his smug tone would normally grind your gears, but right now you just need him, need release. He slips his fingers out of you, hooking his hand under your knee before hiking your leg up over his hips. He slides down a little bit to adjust his positioning, planting one foot on the mattress to give him some leverage as he lines up with your aching entrance.
He presses a bruising kiss to your lips as he slides inside of you, filling you to the brim in one swift thrust. You both shudder at the sensation, not remembering the last time you’ve been able to do this.
“You feel incredible,” he whispers, pulling out of your heat slightly before burying himself in you completely once again. He quickly finds a delicious pace, bumping that tender spot inside of you with each thrust, the coil in your belly beginning to tighten again.
“I missed you,” you mumble against his mouth, sucking his bottom lip between your teeth. You squeeze around him at a particularly deep thrust, and he whimpers,
“Do that again, and this will be over too quickly,” he warns you. He slips two fingers into his mouth, sucking on them gently, making a show of it before releasing them with a pop. A whine falls from your lips as he trails his wet fingers down your chest, your belly, finally slipping them between your legs.
“Oh, f-fuck,” you press your forehead against his as he expertly swirls the pads of his fingers around your swollen clit, blood rushing to your center. “So good,”
“Mhm,” he kisses you again, “let go, baby,”
He fucks into you in earnest, rubbing your clit just the way you need, bringing you straight to the precipice once again.
“I can’t, fuck,” your climax is approaching so quickly you can barely process it,
“Yes, you can, I’m right behind you,” he reassures you, “come on, angel,”
You come hard with a sob, tensing around him as he stills, spilling hot and fast inside of you. In between heaving breaths, you share desperate, passionate kisses with your boyfriend, your heart feeling the fullest it’s felt in weeks. You remain tangled with Wooyoung for a while, foreheads pressed together, kisses becoming softer and sweeter.
He carefully slides out of you, resting your leg back on the mattress, and scooting up slightly to lay eye to eye with you.
“Now what?” He kisses your hairline, rubbing the back of your neck just how you like.
“Shower, please,” you nuzzle into his touch. Moments later, you’re under the hot spray of your shower head with your boyfriend.
“I think I really needed that,” you hand Wooyoung your shampoo, watching him squeeze a sizable dollop of it into his palm.
“I know,” he snaps it closed and hands it back to you, “and I know you already know this – turn around, please,” you do as you’re told, smiling at his manners. “I know you already know this, but it’s okay to let go every once in a while, baby.” He lathers up your shampoo and starts gently rubbing it into the ends of your hair, working it up to your scalp, massaging it with his fingertips. “Work demands so much from you, but you can take a breath when you’re with me,”
Your throat tightens. “I do know that,” you admit, “but, it’s just hard sometimes,”
“Of course it is, it’s not a switch.” He pops the shower head off of its mount and starts rinsing the bubbles from your hair, gently running his fingers through to work out any tangles. “But when you don’t give yourself a chance to rest, to let someone else take care of you, you have weeks like this where you’re completely not yourself.” His voice softens on his last few words, like it’s been on his mind for some time and he’s finally found the right time to say it. He pops the shower head back on, then drops a soft kiss to your shoulder.
You hope your tears blend in with the water already peppering your cheeks as you turn back around to face your boyfriend. “I’m sorry, Youngie,” you sniffle, “I’m still figuring out how to balance everything,”
He wipes a very obvious tear from your cheek. “You don’t have to apologize to me, I know how hard you’re working and how much it takes from you some weeks – conditioner please?” You crack another smile at his commitment to care for you even in the middle of an important conversation, handing over your conditioner. He pops it open, squeezes a little out, and hands the bottle back. He reaches around your head to rub the conditioner into your hair, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose. “But I am here for you, I’m here to make life easier for you, you know I love to take care of you,”
“I know, and I need to let you,”
“You do.” A smug grin creeps across his mouth. “But I will always think you’re hot when you’re mad at me, so keep that in mind.”
“Oh my god, Wooyoung,” you lightly smack his chest, feeling lighter now that his concerns are out in the open, and you know what you need to work on. “I will definitely keep that in mind,” you wrap your arms around his neck, admiring the softness of his eyes.
“How do you want to spend the rest of our evening, my love?” He pulls you closer to him, under the warm stream.
“I want to get into those matching pajamas you bought us last Christmas,” you kiss his right cheek, “make Chapagetti,” you kiss his left cheek, “and eat mint chocolate chip ice cream in bed.” You press a quick kiss to his lips.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
