#atzsslut

San’s eyes were on you, hazed with lust as he tried his best to make sure you came for the third time before he could cum at all, wanting to see you maxed out or else he wouldn’t be satisfied with himself.

His hair was damp from a shower beforehand, making it seem as if he was peering at you like you were his prey, his vision hooded by the wet strands like the trees in a forest. His hands were gripped on your waist, clutching you tightly like he never wanted to let go, helping you pace yourself on his cock as you rode him.

“S—so good.” the ‘s’ in particular came out of your mouth in a slurred hiss, barely holding up as your hands grasped San’s bare shoulders almost a bit too tightly.

“You like daddy’s cock that much, pretty slut?” he teased further, licking his lips as he let out a groan, his naked back moving against the headboard of your shared bed.

With the words spilling past his lips ever so sinfully, guaranteeing that any other voice or remotely clean thought in your mind was gone, they were paired with the addicting sound of skin-hitting-skin, your ass and thighs hitting against San’s lap and pelvis every time you went down.

The sheen of sweat on both of your bodies wasn’t the only cause of the noise, but your arousal had dripped so beautifully passed San’s shaft, down to the base of his cock and to the back of your thighs. Sticky, wet, and messy—exactly how he enjoyed his sex.

“Oh fu—uck. Oh my god.” without you even realizing, as you picked up the pace to get closer to the edge, the corner of your lips had turned upwards, ever so slightly, into a dazed smile.

Though you didn’t notice it, San sure did.

“Jeez, baby. Enjoying daddy’s cock that much, huh?” he smiled as well, which was actually more of a smirk, throwing his head back against the headboard as if he were saying ‘I can’t believe I got this lucky’.

“Yes!” you panted out, eyebrows furrowing closer together as you bit your bottom lip, still somewhat smiling, feeling your clit slightly rub against his abdomen each time you pushed down, stimulating yourself even more.

“Good. That’s a good fucking cocksleeve. So fucking good to me. Your pretty little pussy’s all mine, fuck,” San swore, nearing his high as he felt you squeeze around him, “You are all mine. You’re my favorite girl.”

That sent you to where you needed to be. An orgasmic bliss was reaching you soon as the one thing that San did during sex that you adored was when he called you his. Just as much as he was yours.

“S—Sannie, I’m gonna cum.” you announced, now clutching him as you hugged his body, head on his shoulder as you tried to still ride him properly.

San could feel you faltering, now taking matters into his own hands and moving them from your waist to your hips, fucking into you in turn. As if he was in a rut, the slick you had made around his cock made it easier for him to pound your cunt.

“I’ve got you, darling. Daddy’s gonna cum too. Daddy’s gonna cum all over inside you. Sounds good, doesn’t it?” he managed to say in between grunts, holding you close to his own body.

“Please, please, please…” the word repeating over and over, growing almost silent as you kept saying it, choked up on your coming orgasm.

And as you felt the knot wanting to snap in you, your pussy more sensitive than it already had been since two orgasms ago, your eyes rolled back in pleasure as San whispered the command you had been waiting for into your ear with gritted teeth and a clenched jaw;

Perhaps it was cliche to say, but Hongjoong was your sun.

The cliche of it all only being increased since his name specifically meant "center of the world", just like the sun in to the galaxy. However, it wasn't like he minded whenever you called him that.

In actuality, he was rather giddy when he found out his name on your phone was "my sun".

Though he could argue for hours that you were the sun in the relationship, it would just end with him giving up to you because, whether or not you were in the mood to argue, nothing could beat your aggressive compliments towards him.

Strangely enough, he really liked it when you yelled "let me appreciate my own boyfriend" because he liked being reminded that you were his, and he was yours.

There were even times that you thought he was warmer than the sun. Coincidentally, just like right now.

You and Joong couldn't often be spontaneous, seeing that both of you were busy, but especially him since he was a rising music producer. But when you were met with a text of him saying that he would take you out today, who were you to deny him?

His hand in yours, walking down the gentle hill, wishing to feel the slight sharpness of the grass once you were sat down and your shoes were off, Hongjoong had decided that today was a good day for a picnic date in the park.

"Aren't you scared of bugs?" you mentioned, leaning closer to him as your other hand held the picnic blanket.

"Yes.." he trailed, leading the way. "Your point?"

"We're at a park, surrounded by a bunch of grass, and lots of trees. That equals maybe a few caterpillars, grasshoppers, and lots of ants."

"You know, darling. I would appreciate if you didn't try to freak me out and make fun of my incredibly rational phobia in my attempts to take you out on a nice day."

You let out a small laugh, liking the little grump that came with his complaint. It took you back to when Hongjoong found a bug in his coffee and almost yelled loud enough for the whole of Seoul to hear.

“That looks like a good spot.” you pointed out, rather surprised that no one had gone there.

The space was shaded well enough by a tree, and was near the part of the park where hundreds of beds of flowers were carefully taken care of by the gardeners.

You ran over ahead of Hongjoong, laying down the blanket as neatly as possible while he followed, trying not to shake the food-filled basket too much.

Finally reaching you, he set it down on the edge, only almost touching the grass as he watched you take your shoes off.

“Wanna lay down on my lap?“ he offered, flicking his shoes off carelessly.

You nodded with a look of joy on your face, never dreaming of passing up an offer like that. “You know me so well.” you commented.

“Of course.” he cockily admitted. Nonetheless, he was right.

“Want listen to some music?” you asked, pulling out his earphones (you offered to keep them in your bag to not have them get lost in the food).

“You know me so well.” he mirrored your words before, making you purse your lips and furrow your eyebrows as you carefully laid your body down on the blanket.

You scrolled through your phone, looking for a song to play. Your head was set on Hongjoong’s lap as he peeled a tangerine, careful to not get any sour residue near your eye.

And while he finally got the whole peel off, feeding one piece of tangerine into your mouth, you let out an excited “Mm!” when you found a good song.

Taking his earphones, you put one bud in his ear and the other in yours, phone carefully placed on your chest. Immediately as the song played, he smiled down at you, while you did the same looking up at him, knowing well how familiar the sounds were.

IU’s “Through the Night” played through buds, a song that you found to be a perfect definition of you and Hongjoong’s relationship.

Even if it was light out, the two of you could listen endlessly to the song. The easiness of the song’s flow exactly defined how easy it was for you to love him, and how easy it was for him to love you.

Whether you two were cleaning around your apartment, or simply wanting to sing it out, the song never seemed to bore either of you.

And it would always be remembered how you two had decided it was your song; it came up when you were scrolling, laying with Hongjoong on your bed as soft music played through the speaker on the nightstand.

Letting it play, one of the lyrics sang “Tonight, I’ll send you the firefly from that day. To your window. That means that I love you”.

He suddenly said that he would send a million fireflies to your window, and you only tried to one-up him and say you’d send infinity. That was when he first told you he loved you. Given, you said it back with just as much meaning.

Simple & straightforward—you never thought you could’ve found someone like Hongjoong, stumbling into your life and bringing no burdens to it.

You took his hand with both of yours, only a bit sticky from the tangerine’s pith, but not really minding it. Playing with his ring-decorated fingers, nails sloppily painted with chipped polish, you always liked how his hands felt in yours.

Having one ear not listening to the music, you could hear Hongjoong’s humming match up with yours. You weren’t the only one who noticed when your lover smiled, then looked down to use his free hand to gently graze your eyebrows.

It was subtle, not incredibly affectionate, but enough for you to understand that he just wanted to touch you. Feel you against his finger tips. Something he liked to do because he wanted to tell himself that you were real—that you were staying at this moment in time with him.

That you weren’t just a dream.

And through days and nights, you’d love to spend every mundane second with him. With a dance, conversation, or bare touch—Kim Hongjoong was your beginning and end. And you were his.

@yxnkigi i hope you enjoyed it! i apologize in advance if it's not exactly what you imagined, but i tried my best!

A few of your friends were helping you pack the last of your things, despite not looking forward to your leave. And as they were leaving your apartment, slipping off their slippers and on their shoes, a doorbell was heard. 

You took a mental headcount, not remembering anyone else besides the four friends you had invited. "Who would be here at 11PM?" 

Passing your friends, you opened the door to check whoever the mystery person was, only to be taken aback by the figure in front of you. Dressed in a casual white shirt and blue jeans, your boss was there holding a plastic bag with a nervous smile on his face. 

But before you could welcome him in, one of your friends had come up behind you and kicked the door shut without your knowledge, making you jolt in shock. 

"Marina, why did you do that?!" you whisper yelled, looking at her like she was crazy (which she was.. just a little bit). 

"Who is that?" the question making the rest of your friends continue to ask like the insistent seagulls in 'Finding Nemo.' 

"That's.. that's my boss." again, they all exclaimed, "Can you all keep your voices down? Not to mention, weren't you all leaving?"

"Y/N, what kind of boss comes at 11PM to your personal place of living with a bag that's obviously from the convenience store?" Yuki, another one of your friends, interjected. 

"Guys, I really don't want to question why Seonghwa is here and relay the reason to you guys. Besides," you gestured to the door, "Leaving?" 

"You're on a first-name basis with your boss?" another one of them asked. However, they saw the stern look on your face and decided that it was time they had to leave. "Okay, okay."

They all nodded, almost laughing at Seonghwa's face the second you had opened the door. His expression was a mix of confusion, surprise, and wonder. Politely, they all bowed to him as you yelled out the door, "I promise I'll text the group chat when I land tomorrow, okay?" 

After seeing them all go into the elevator, your focus shifted to Seonghwa, who now had pursed lips and wide eyes looking at you. You gestured for him to come in, knowing that you'd question his presence once he settled in. 

And when he did—"Seonghwa, I didn't expect you to be here." 

"I was wondering.. since I finished packing... if you need help?" he admitted, shifting his feet as he stood beside the obviously zipped-up luggage in your living room. 

In reality, what he admitted was false. It was a lie. He had taken the initiative to come to your place, buying your favorite drink from the convenience store across your building, to come to see you. 

Solely, to come to see you. 

"Oh," you responded, "I'm sorry, I just finished packing. My friends you saw coming out of here had helped me."

"Oh," he mirrored your tone, "It's okay. I can leave if you'd like me to."

Please, don't tell me to leave. Seonghwa's thoughts ran, hoping you wouldn't rush him out. Nevertheless, he did come out of the initiative to see you. It was enough that he saw you. 

"No, no." you quickly rejected, "Please. Stay. You can sit here." 

You guided him to the small dining table that you had beside your kitchen counter, a table for two. As he sat on one side, you sat on the other. Maybe you were used to sitting beside him on a separate desk in the office, but you felt your heartbeat from nervousness seeing him sit across you. 

"I got you that tea thing that you like from the store," he said, as he took the plastic bag from his lap and put it on the table, "I'm not sure how to say it in Japanese." 

You giggled, biting your bottom lip as you looked at him. Unbeknownst to you, he loved that little habit of yours. To him, almost every little habit you had was worth paying attention to. 

"Thank you. I bet you got the strawberry milk, am I right?" 

"At this point, I like anything related to strawberries," he admitted, pushing the tea he bought you your way, "So, are you ready for the big move? My PA informed me that all your things are already in Milan. All the boxes are still compact, and none of your things are damaged." 

"Oh, thank God." you exasperated, "I'm going to miss a lot about Tokyo, this small apartment, the friends and colleagues I've met here—but it's strangely not unbearable to leave." 

"Why's that?"

As he asked that, despite already pushing the bottle of tea towards you, he moved forward to open it for you. You smiled at the gesture, not thinking much of it, and saying a small thank you before answering his question. 

"Well," you took a sip to clear your throat, "I don't know if this sounds inappropriate to say to my boss, but-"

"No, no. Go ahead, please."

"I think you're the reason I feel really confident about this." 

Seonghwa stopped tipping the bottle to his lips, looking at you like you said something absurd. However, it wasn't that he was disturbed, but it skewed more towards utter surprise that you would say something like that. All this time, he felt as if his flirtatious nature was one-sided. 

Hold on, is she flirting, or am I just delusional? The anxiety-induced wonder suddenly caught his thoughts like they always do. 

But, he had to respond. Knowing you, you might repeatedly process it later and think you said something out of pocket. 

"I-I'm glad," he coughed out of nervousness, "I'm glad that you feel that way. Some people have asked me these past few months and wondered if I was too lenient on you. They wondered why I had stayed in Japan until you could move, but trust me, watch out until Milan. I will be much more strict!" 

Although you knew he was joking, you didn't laugh aloud. However, the slight sound of air coming out of your nose from amusement gave him a good enough sign you found it humorous. 

With a minor tone, you also leaned forward to match Seonghwa's position, "I will be looking forward to that."

You didn't notice, but Seonghwa's gaze shifted from your eyes to your lips. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he almost shakingly sat back down. 

You shook your head, realizing that you had been thinking back on yesterday for an hour. You really didn't want to admit it, but you somehow knew it was a memory you wanted to keep. You were aware of how sweet Seonghwa could be, how much of a gentleman he was, but that night will always leave the familiar sweet taste in your mouth.

Maybe it was the tea, but your subconscious knew that it tasted sweeter since Seonghwa bought it.

As if he knew you were thinking of him, he awoke from his nap (sure didn't seem like one) and sleepily looked in your direction.

"Hey boss, you're awake." you laughed.

"I am, but I will soon go back to sleep. Make sure you catch some sleep too. It's a 14-hour flight and only one stop, and I'm sure the jet lag will be hell."

"Mhm, don't worry." you gave Seonghwa a reassuring grin that made him go back to sleep.

Thankfully, and he thanked his mind for this, Seonghwa didn't have a dream like the one he had the first night he had met you.

Perhaps he was frustrated from the long plane ride, but the second Seonghwa got home, settling his luggage to the corner of his room, his mind was filled with you. 

"Fuck." he started, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" 

By now, he wasn't sure why you were so attractive to him. Well, he knew why he liked you so much. You worked hard, were beautiful, and had the same passions as him. Most importantly, you appeared in his dreams and made the lewdest of sounds. The list could go on, but it wouldn't help the tent beginning to form in his pants. 

But the way you attracted him, pulling him into your grasp from everything you did, he wished that you didn’t invade his mind to make him almost drool out of lust. Just as much as you got easily captivated in work, he got captivated in you. 

He was glad his housemates weren't home. Living with two other men, Hongjoong and Yeosang (head of manufacturing management), wasn't ideal when he needed to release the pent-up tension in his body. 

Despite being one to always throw his dirty clothes in the laundry basket, he instead left a messy trail of his shirt, then pants, and lastly, his boxers before stepping into the bathroom in his room. 

It was as if his body was too filled with want to even wait for the water to turn hot when he stepped in the shower and let the cold water flow out first. But when the warmth began to spout out, the mist from the water fogging up the glass walls of the shower, Seonghwa slicked his hair back with his hands to get out of his face. 

"Fuck." seemed like the only word he could spit out right now. 

He didn't know how he managed to spend 14 hours sat so closely next to you, in a plane, in business class, without offering if you wanted to be a part of the mile-high club. 

It didn't help that you would lean close to him every now and then and whisper something you wanted to talk to him about to not disturb the other passengers. Seonghwa began to remember how cute you looked with those airplane headphones on, some strands of your hair falling in your face as you told him it was your first time flying business. 

God, she was so cute. He thought.

Seonghwa's right hand began to travel down his body from his hair as the hot water hit almost every inch of his skin. Finally, after what felt like too long to fathom, it reached the base of his cock.

He hissed, almost surprised at the feeling. For a while, Seonghwa refused to touch himself, let alone when he thought of you. Actually, he stopped for a while because everything that made him feel turned on somehow related back to you. A wave of guilt used to wash over him every time, but now it seemed as if he had no care in the world. 

He had your face, body, and voice in mind as he began to pump his own cock. His chest heaved in and out, his wet eyelashes grazing his cheeks as he kept his eyes shut, imagining you. He let out an exasperated grown as pre-cum began to leak from his tip, gathering it with his thumb to use as lube. 

He decided that this wasn't enough. One hand wasn't enough. Seonghwa brought his left hand down, beginning to knead his own balls. That in itself made his lips part, mouth opening ajar as he let out a moan. 

Without realizing it, your name passed his lips, droplets of water hitting his tongue from his open mouth. A part of him imagined that it was your cum trickling onto his tastebuds. As if he could be, he got even harder as he said your name. But that began to digress when your voice echoed in his mind. Simply. Saying. His. Name. 

"God, I love it when she says my name," he spoke to himself, imagining how each syllable spilled from your mouth as if it was a mantra, "Shit."

His body slightly shuddered when the stimulation began to take over his whole body, feeling the familiar knot starting to form in his stomach as the building up tension before climax. 

Seonghwa couldn't risk being too loud if someone came home, which resulted in choked moans and biting his lips shut until they were more red than pink. His vision began to blur from the combination of increasing steam and his hand speeding up and down his shaft. 

Again, as if it was the only word in his vocabulary, a string of swears (specifically 'fuck' or 'shit') was let out as he resisted moaning aloud. His back convulsed against the ceramic wall, the stiff texture hitting his muscles as the droplets of water trickled down every inch of his skin. 

By now, he wasn't sure how much time had passed, but the thought of you was keeping him very occupied in the shower. Soon, Seonghwa found himself using both hands to jack himself off, squeezing his eyes shut as he dreamed that it was your sopping hole gripping his cock. 

"Oh my god." he huffed out, his hips jolting when he was at his tipping point. 

In mere seconds, his jaw slacked open without a single sound coming out. He took one of his hands and began riding his high as he rubbed the tip with his palm. He thrust forward, cum spurting out to his palm as he let out the repressed sexual frustration. 

Seonghwa fluttered his eyes open, looking down at his palm, which was now covered in the sticky substance. Wincing at the outcome, he thought, Jeez, that was more than I expected. 

Washing his body, especially his hand, he spoke to himself once again in hot water—"Shit. How am I gonna face her tomorrow?"

And that dreaded morning came sooner than expected. 

"Good morning, Seonghwa." you smiled, standing beside him by the entrance of the office building.

That damned smile. Seonghwa thought. 

But he had to give you one back, pushing his sunglasses onto the top of his head, pushing his hair back. Seonghwa responded to your greeting with the exact phrase, walking ahead to guide you. 

It wasn't too tall, standing only with three floors. The outside still used the old, yellow-almost-ochre bricks that made the place prettier as MARTE read out in a big sign on top in gold, blocky letters. However, the inside seemed that it wasn't too old. You noted how clean it appeared, to the point that the windows almost appeared too clear that someone could mistake it as a hole.

Though, it did make sense. You knew Park Seonghwa well enough to know that he liked things clean. 

Suddenly, you realized that your attention had averted from the building itself to the man who was employing you.

Handsome, you thought this time. Wait- shut up. Okay, well, Seonghwa is handsome. But why did you say that about your own boss? Y/N, just follow him into the building. 

"I like your sunglasses today, boss. You never really wore any when we were in Tokyo." you complimented (as an attempt to distract yourself from your thoughts), waiting in front of the elevator with him to the three-story building. 

"They're to mask my jetlag." he laughed, pressing the 'up' button, "How's yours?"

"I slept like a baby for the whole night. And I think my excitement for today is my mask." the ding of the elevator interrupted your words, "What about you? What'd you do last night?" 

Seonghwa began coughing, sniffing up the imaginary snot in his nose as he avoided any eye contact with you, "I slept well too." 

"That's great to hear." 

After your words, Seonghwa was thankfully saved by the elevator's bell when the metal doors slid open, having reached the top floor. Although you were excited, the familiar feeling of anxiety and cold sweats engulfing your body took over when you saw the number of people on the floor. 

It was intimate, to say the least. Maybe 10 or 12 employees were divided by relatively spacious desks, clearly knowing each other well after a few years of working together. Meanwhile, you—you were new meat. 

"Good morning, everyone!" Seonghwa called out, grabbing the people's attention, all of them answering with their own variations of the phrase. 

"Y/N!" the call of your name was the only outstanding thing you heard coming from the right. 

The panic hadn't left, but you eased a little more than you realized it was Hongjoong. You two hadn't met for a while, and your grin showed how happy you were to meet your friend. With easy arms, he jogged over to you and brought you into a friendly hug. 

Thankfully, none of you noticed Seonghwa's gaze burning through the both of you. 

"Hongjoong, you have no idea how happy I am to see you after so long," you admitted, pulling away from his embrace, "You'll help me get to know everything and everyone, right?"

Before Seonghwa could interject and say that it was alright for him to do that, Hongjoong had responded affirmatively and gently guided you to one of the employees. Your boss followed closely behind. 

"Y/N, this is Yeosang. He's our manufacturing manager. He basically handles all the processes and responses that come in from the factories. He's the reason we're always on schedule." Hongjoong introduced. 

You couldn't really believe how many good-looking men were in this office. First Seonghwa, then Hongjoong, and now Yeosang. You especially liked how he almost looked like a statue, resembling those painted by artists from the renaissance. 

"It's nice to meet you, Yeosang. I'm looking forward to working with you!" you warmly said, stretching out your hand for him to shake (which he did). 

"Me too." he smiled with his teeth, "Also, I think Seonghwa doesn't need to monitor us from now. I think you should go to your office and work on the things your PA has listed on your schedule. Hongjoong and I can help Y/N settle in." 

"No, it's o-"

"I agree," you replied, "We were given two hours extra to sleep, and you must be swamped. I'll be fine, boss."

"But-"

"Seonghwa," you started, "I'll be perfectly fine. Please go, and I'll come back to you in less than an  hour."

She kind of speaks to him as if he was her boyfriend, Yeosang thought. And his suspicions only increased when he saw how Seonghwa's demeanor changed when you said his name instead of 'boss.' Huh, and it seems like he's enjoying it. 

"Fine," he gave up, pursing his lips, "I'll be in the office and work like a responsible adult."

"Not to mention, you're our boss." Hongjoong and Yeosang said in unison, laughing it off as Seonghwa rolled his eyes, walking away to the separate room on the right side of the floor. 

"Okay, so let's introduce you to everyone!" Hongjoong yelled excitedly as he clasped his hands together. 

And for the 45 minutes that you were a door away, conversing and chatting with your new colleagues and getting to know them, Seonghwa was behind his desk trying not to check on you. 

But his boredom without you, and the growing worry, soon dissipated when the laughing outside died down, and your familiar face peeked through the door. Seonghwa couldn't help but beam from adoration from seeing how happy you were to be here. 

He believes he's made the right choice with you. 

"Hi, I-" you stopped and stared at the space, "Woah." 

From what you were seeing, the separate office for you and Seonghwa was a massive area filled with two desks and two sofas. Much different from what you had to do in Tokyo, which was share one temporary desk, you had your own on the left side, across from Seonghwa. Though, you did wonder why there were two black sofas in the middle of the room. 

As if Seonghwa had read your mind, he stood up and pointed out the comfortable-looking furniture, "There are times where we need to sleep in for the night, that's why there are shower rooms as well-"

"THERE ARE SHOWER ROOMS?!" you caught yourself being a little too loud, "Sorry, there are shower rooms?!" 

Seonghwa laughed at your excitement (and how you whisper-yelled your repeated sentence), "Yes. And besides, these sofas are really nice to talk to guests or clients with. They're beneficial for us when we need to eat lunch in the office. They don't stain easily." 

"Definitely hate a couch that stains." oh, you also definitely didn't catch what he was alluding to. 

"That reminds me, before you finish unpacking and decorating your desk, I need to have a little discussion with you."

"Oh," you responded, somewhat surprised. You followed Seonghwa by sitting down on the couch across from him, your legs almost hitting the glass coffee table in the center. 

He gave you a reassuring look so that you understood that you weren't in trouble. However, he had a few concerns that had been bothering him for the past few months in case you'd be uncomfortable. 

"So, you remember everything I told you for the past few months, right? And you've been doing what I've advised you to do?"

"Of course." you began to speak out the mental list you kept, "I learned basic Italian. I'd have to understand that everything works much faster here. And.. I'd also have to remember that criticism will be something I'd have to handle stronger than usual, especially from the media."

"Exactly. The statement from MARTE is being released tomorrow about the official new designer; you. Don't be too nervous, but you did forget one thing that I told you to remember." 

"What? Really? I'm so sorry, it slipped my mind." you admitted quickly, trying to remember what he meant. 

As you let out 'uhs' and 'hms' to remember what Seonghwa was referencing, he stood up and began walking up to you. More specifically, walking behind you, his legs smoothly guiding him as both of his hands ended up on the black leather of the sofa.

Leaning forward to your left ear, he was close enough for you to hear, but not too much that he would graze a single hair on your head. With a soft, almost alluring voice, a timbre clearly natural coming out as he spoke, 

"Never forget about the potential dating rumors, Y/N." 

You felt the hairs on your neck turn stiff, your breath hitching as you watched him simply walk away with a gentle smile, sitting back down at his desk. Undoubtedly, his words would echo in your mind once in a while for the whole first week of work. 

More so, it was the way he said it that made you push your thighs together and try to clear your mind out of guilt for thinking about your boss a certain way. 

If only you knew what he did in that shower the first night back. He was dripping, just like you.

"Hey, I'm back." you came into your shared office with Seonghwa, sitting on one of the sofas as you laid out papers filled with various textile ideas that Hongjoong had given you during your lunch together. 

It had been a week since you began to work at MARTE, and you were already quite busy to the point that your coffee intake was much higher than average. However, the bustling noises of rushing feet and printed papers were enjoyable, to say the least. And Seonghwa was there with you, every step of the way. 

"Hi." he responded back, "Where's Joong?" 

"Oh, he knows that we're supposed to have a meeting about colour checking for the first print of the fabrics. But, he got a sudden call from the factory and had to check something out. He's asking if it's okay we have the meeting in two hours tops." 

"Ah," Seonghwa nodded, looking at your sat figure in front of him, "That's...fine."

You noticed the slight pause in his speech, but you didn't think much of it and continued to lay out the papers on the coffee table. You assumed that it was because he was upset about the delay, and that's only normal. 

However, Seonghwa wasn't upset at all. Really, he didn't mind. But he was concerned about why you seemed different. Ever since the two of you arrived in Milan, he had no worries about you feeling welcome since you got along with the rest of the workers quickly, and jet lag didn't even stop you from giving him a smile every morning. 

"What's going on with you? You're looking a little down. We just got here a week ago. Are you homesick?" 

Seonghwa was referencing the conflicted look on your face. It wasn't that you were exactly upset. No, that wasn't the word you'd use. But, since he was asking an array of questions, you might as well tell him what had happened earlier at lunch. Knowing him too, he'd keep asking until he made you feel better. 

"No, I'm just feeling a little bad right now because a waiter at the restaurant Hongjoong and I were at asked me out. I kind of feel bad for rejecting him even though it shouldn't really matter, in a way? The only thing he knows about me is my order."

"But isn't that the purpose of being asked out? For some people, at least." Seonghwa asked, not looking at you as he stood up to look for a folder on the shelf behind his desk. 

"What do you mean?" you asked, not really catching on to what he meant. 

"You know," setting the folder down, he walks out from behind his desk, sitting beside you on the couch, "The first date can be the first step to getting to know each other." 

"I don't know... I mean, I agree. My friends do that often, but I've always found myself enjoying the love that grows from friendship or any kind of union first. Do you get what I mean?" 

"Do you ever fear that it'll ruin the platonic dynamic you already have?" 

"That's," you shifted your eyes away from Seonghwa's and blinked a little too much than usual, "That's a consequence that has to be faced, right?" 

Maybe it was because he was sitting beside you, which he knew would comfort you, but Seonghwa was making you more nervous than usual. Frankly, he had been making you more nervous ever since your arrival in Milan. 

The weather was much hotter than it was in Japan, and you found yourself noticing how much more often Seonghwa wore his dress shirts with a little more buttons open. Usually by one, sometimes two, but not too much to be inappropriate at work. 

Yet, whenever that door closed to the office you two shared, away from the other employees, Seonghwa happened to always say 'It's scorching today.' and undo just one more button. The room had air conditioning, the windows weren't too big that it made the room hot from the sunlight, and any step he'd go out of the shared office, he'd close that single button up again. As if he was doing it on purpose. 

And today, he was wearing his navy blue top just like that. Although it was quick, you saw him the second he saw that it was you coming into the office, turn away, and click that one button off. 

Navy blue. The same colour as the suit he wore when he first met you. 

"Did you say no because you have a little crush on someone, Y/N?" he asked, catching on to your demeanor. 

Although Seonghwa has doubted for months that you felt the way he did, it was just like you just said. Some consequences are meant to be accepted, even if he was your boss. However, he had a gut feeling judging by how your feet shifted and openly told him about the rejection. 

"I..." you started. You had to choose your following words carefully. Clearly, you were catching Seonghwa's signals, but you weren't sure if he was taunting you or wanting you to confess first. After all, he's your boss. 

But Seonghwa didn't know your dirty little secret. Not until a bit later. That you liked the fact, he was your boss. The slight forbidden feeling of crushing on your office superior was, undoubtedly, arousing to you. 

"Unless you want me to say it." 

Seonghwa's lips were now whispering in your ear. You could almost feel them graze against the edge of your skin, his hair almost against yours, and his hot breath making your own breath get caught in your throat. 

But you knew enough that you had to be the one to say it.

"You.." you started, "You don't treat me like another employee. You treat me better, you come by my place to check up on me and say that you want to help me pack, you know what drinks I like, and..."

"And?" he taunted. 

"You like me," you stated confidently, "Knowing well that I've been trying to not think of you as anything more than just my boss."

"But you have, haven't you?" he inched closer as if he could. The space between you both was agonizing, despite how your foreheads were barely a centimeter away. 

"I have." you owned up to it after so long. You didn't even tell your friends, let alone Hongjoong, that you had thoughts about Seonghwa. 

That included second thoughts about working in MARTE. About how improper it was for you to think about him that way. Not only was he charming, attentive, and good to you—he made you weak to your knees just by looking at him. 

But that weight had finally been lifted at this moment. How you could feel Seonghwa's breath ghosting over yours, how he was looking at you as if he was hungry to have you. You wanted to know how bad it was. 

How bad he wanted you. 

"You want me," confidence oozed from your voice, "Right?" 

"That's right," he spoke only a bit above a whisper, "Let me kiss you."

You nodded, not needing to respond verbally as he was close enough for you to feel his bangs against your face. 

At first, it felt like forever. The side of Seonghwa's nose touched yours, his hand that slightly smelt of graphite touching the side of your face, and his lips only then ghosted over yours when he smiled. 

You didn't know why he smiled, but it only made you want to kiss him more. Out of wanton, your hand touched his that was on your face, slightly squeezing it as a sign that you wished he would kiss you now. 

"Alright, alright." he chuckled. 

Finally, from what felt like much too long, precisely just above two months, Seonghwa got the chance to kiss you. Your lips molded into his, wondering how they were so soft. 

How are they so damn soft? You thought.

You've kissed people before, enough for you to understand what was the difference between sloppy and gross, with hot and heavy. How he knew just when to breathe out, how he cupped your face, how he didn't let his tongue in your mouth but just enough to graze your bottom lip—this felt too good to be true. 

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa was holding the urge to sigh in satisfaction as he moved his head to kiss you again after pulling away only for a moment. He also wanted to move his free hand to your thigh, but he waited until you gave him a sign that you were comfortable with that. 

For a second, you backed away. You were still close, both of your eyes were still shut, but you had to say something. 

"Do you think..." you gulped, "Do you think we can 'finish' before Hongjoong gets here? Before everyone is back from their lunch break?" 

"Depends," he started, "What do you want to do? Or, what is it you want me to do to you?"  

"I want you to fuck me." your breath was shaky, "Uhm, and I... There's something I like." 

"And what's that, sweetheart?" 

You were about to speak, but as you were to do so, Seonghwa suddenly began to kiss down from your jaw, down to your neck, as if he knew that it would make you sensitive. You breathed in through your nose, trembling at the fact you began to feel that arousal stirring in between your legs. 

"S-Seonghwa, if you keep doing that, then I don't know if I can speak?" 

"All I'm doing," he paused, shocking you when his teeth nibbled on your skin alongside his licking tongue. He uttered in a muffled sound, "Is kissing your neck. I think you can try and speak, or am I inciting you too much already?" 

"Shit," you swore as he continued to leave a hickey on the base of your neck, "I want to call you something."

"Which is?" his voice muffled again as he was leaving yet another hickey on your collarbone. Wearing a sundress would either be your best or worst choice today. 

"I want to call you 'Sir.'" 

He halted. The sex-induced bruise that he was just making with his lips on your skin was not nearly as purple as he wanted yet, but your request was worth the wait. Seonghwa tried not to make any sudden movements to show how hard it was to not dive into you right then and there, but he was visibly intrigued hearing your words. 

He moved, making a sudden dip in the couch as he placed one knee beside your lap, towering over you. His right hand moved from your neck then to your jaw, slightly pressing with every inch he went up until his grip locked. His other hand was used as support, gripping the couch as he gated you in between the furniture and his own body. 

"Authority kink, huh?" his fingers then move to hold your chin to make you look up at him, "Let me guess, you must be a fan of degradation. If not, you like a little praise?" 

God, you didn't know if you wanted him to take you right then and there or punch him in the face from how cocky he was being. But those two emotions found a middle-ground since you were too stirred up to even be shy. 

"You can call me anything you want, as long as you're pounding inside me." you found your hand moving at its own pace, fluttering over Seonghwa's exposed chest from his barely buttoned shirt, then over to his crotch, which was now too hard to go unnoticed. 

"Are you saying you're ready to be my slut, Y/N?" 

He groaned when you squeezed, working to palm his clothed cock, nodding as you smiled while biting your bottom lip. 

"Why don't you give your boss a little taste of how good you are at giving head, hm? Those lips would look absolutely delightful around my cock, don't you think?" 

"Then you should sit your ass down, sir." 

Seonghwa smirked as you moved over, making room for him to sit. As he leaned against the arm of the couch, the stiffness almost reminding him of his shower wall, he kept one leg bent while the other draped over the edge. 

He resisted the urge to run and grab his phone to take a picture of you. Seeing you on your knees, at the other end of the couch, waiting for his signal to let you unzip his pants was irresistible. Not to mention, it seemed that you were enjoying how he was palming himself with his own hand, emphasizing his size. 

"Go ahead, angel." he smiled, "I want to see how well you can work that filthy mouth of yours."

Without another word, you bent over, ass in the air for Seonghwa to see as an extra view. You put each of your hands on his thighs, using your teeth to unzip his dress pants. Seonghwa saw what you did and threw his head back as he thought, 

Can she get any better? 

And, you did. One of your hands traveled off his thigh, now pulling his boxers out of the way as you touched the base of his cock and took it out. To your surprise, Seonghwa wasn't particularly thick, but holy shit, you couldn't wait to feel how deep he could go with his length. 

As if you knew how he liked his blowjobs, you began at the tip. As you suckled on it, you let the saliva in your mouth drip over his shaft, acting as lube when you started to move downwards. 

"Fuck." he let out in a grunt, "You're doing so good, angel." 

You felt his hand snake up into your hair, making a makeshift ponytail to help you see. As you bobbed your head up and down, your eyes shifted to look up to him. Seeing how good it seemed to feel, you hollowed your cheeks and slowly sucked upwards, back to his tip. 

Based on how he looked at you with fluttering eyes and a heaving chest, his sharp expression almost making you lose it, Seonghwa was more than impressed by how well you took him down your throat. 

"Despite how good you're—fuck," he was caught off guard by your tongue suddenly licking his slit, "Despite you good you're doing, I don't think I want to cum before I even get to be inside you, sweetheart." 

You mentally agreed, getting off him as you wiped the sides of your mouth with the back of your hand. You watched as he tucked his cock, which was still agonizingly hard (if not harder because of what you just said) into his pants for the time being while waiting for further commands.

"I want you to keep your dress on, but take that underwear off and spread your legs." 

You did as told. However, instead of throwing the undergarment to the side, you handed it to Seonghwa, who was now kneeled on the ground, prepared to fill your desperate hole. 

"Good girl," he praised, retrieving the item of clothing. Indeed, you found it so, so hot when he pocketed it. You'll let him keep it.

With both his hands, Seonghwa spread your legs wider by gripping the inside of your thighs. Naturally, your dress bundled up around your hips and waist, making you completely exposed to him. 

"God, you're so wet already," he commented. He saw how shy you got by trying to push your face into the cushion, "You almost just sucked the soul out of me, and now you're shy?" 

"Shut up," you whined, covering your face in your hands, "Please just... just touch me already."

"Mmm," he trailed, "What's the magic word?"

"Please..." you pushed your hips forward and finally let your hands out of your face, "Please touch me, sir." 

"That's right, my sweet girl." 

Seonghwa let go of your thigh with his right hand, though the left one still remained, using it to eventually rub up and down your pussy first. Collecting all the wetness that had pooled up, he used it as a lubricant on your clit, making you clench around nothing. 

You were only letting out a few breaths of satisfaction, which wasn't satisfying him at all. But as he started to rub circles on your slit with both his middle and ring finger, that was when a moan passed your lips. 

Cherishing the feeling, you didn't notice when he had replaced his right hand with his left, laying it on top of your body as only his thumb worked on your sensitive bud. Much to your pleasure, Seonghwa, without informing you, let the same fingers that were just then brushing you into your pussy. 

You audibly gasped, not expecting the sudden stretch, though it wasn't too much since you often did pleasure yourself when you were alone. Maybe because it was Seonghwa, who was your boss, doing it for you now—it felt like heaven. 

The stimulation on both your clit and your hole, which he was now pumping in and out of, as well as scissoring open, was making you let out moans that were music to his ears. 

"You sound like a dream, sweetheart." quietly referencing the moans he dreamed of before he heard you like this. 

"Oh, my fuck." was all you could let out when Seonghwa pushed up inside you in a come-hither motion, clearly deep enough to have found your spot. 

"Right there?" he did it again, but this time faster, making your eyes widen in surprise. 

Your hands clenched, almost crushing, the cushion that was behind your neck as your back arched from the sudden wave of bliss. Your eyebrows furrowed, toes curling as Seonghwa didn't stop.

"C-cum." you managed to speak out, clearly not saying the entire sentence that was meant to come out, "I.. n-need.. to.. cum."

"What did you say, angel? I don't think I heard you." he teased, rubbing your clit faster than before as he kept the same pace with the fingers inside you. 

"Please!" you hopelessly mewled, "I want to—holy fuck—I need to cum. Sir, please." 

"Cum." was all he needed to say before he felt you grip around his fingers, your juices flowing out onto the leather sofa. 

Your body shook as you were riding out your high, pushing against Seonghwa's hand as he was still inside you, somehow wanting more despite having just came. You shuddered slightly when he ever so slowly pulled out his digits. Propping up, he guided them to your lips for you to taste yourself.

"Keep it on your tongue," he commands, "I want to know how sweet you taste too." 

Taking his fingers into your mouth, your eyes never left him as he stood up, staring back at you as well as you sucked him clean as if it was still his cock. 

"You're so sexy, my love," he admits, "Such a good slut." 

You smile at his words, loving the juxtaposition of the names he had called you. Without a thought, you wrapped your arms around his body once he was close enough, parting your mouth as he french-kissed you. 

Against your lips, he said, "Tastes so fucking good." 

Your nails dug into his back when you felt his clothed crotch hit your bare core, still kissing him with all your passion. What you didn't expect was when he said, 

"Take my shirt off. I want to feel you scratching down my back when I'm balls deep inside you." 

"I didn't take you as a masochist." you joked, actually enjoying it as you unbuttoned his shirt.

"Trust me, princess. I've got a whole list of things I'd love for you to do to me." he chuckled at your bewildered face, knowing that most men don't even admit that they like a little bit of pain. 

Once all his buttons were loose, he slipped it off and threw it somewhere to the side. He came closer to you, connecting your lips once again, then kissing down the spots where he had left his hickeys. Whispering against your skin, the habit that had been driving you crazy, he asked,

"If this wasn't the first time we were doing this, I wouldn't question anything. But," Seonghwa moved one of the hands that were gripping the sofa over to your face, gently stroking it, "You really want to do this?"

"I do." you did the same to him, moving one of your hands that were on his naked back to the side of his neck, "And I don't think I can go without you fucking me any longer, sir. Fill me up, please.”

"Fuck, you get me so hard." 

Seonghwa slipped his cock out of the constraint of his pants, leaving them on, dragging it against your pussy like he was teasing you. You hummed at the feeling, finally getting back the friction you wanted after your first orgasm, but he wasn't doing what you wanted. 

You were going to complain, but it seemed that Seonghwa knew that you were already impatient enough. He slowly backed up, then started sinking in his tip ever so gently. At that, you breathed in. However, you didn't anticipate him to move back out, only then to slam full force into you. 

The mix of pleasure and pain made you gasp aloud, your hands clutching his shoulders, along with your nails doing precisely what he wanted. You could hear him chuckle at your reaction, but you were too busy feeling good to call him out for his pride.

He did the move again, making you moan out loud. Solely then did he begin to move, thrusting in and out of you at a slow but deep pace that made your mind go blurry. 

"S-sir.." you said through a moan. 

"Yeah?" you could tell he was trying not to stutter too. 

"Feels—ah—good." 

"You're so hot, angel." he breathed out, loving how your pussy felt like it was perfectly molded for his cock, "You feel too good to be true." 

"Fuck me from the back," you felt Seonghwa stop inside you to listen, "I want you to take me against your desk, pulling my hair and fucking into me as hard as you want." 

 "I don't know what I did in my previous life to deserve such a dirty, little whore like you." 

He gave you space to stand up and walk ahead, following behind you as you bent over, hands gripping the edge of his desk, facing the draped window as you waited for him to come back inside you. 

"As hard as I want, huh?" 

"As hard as you want, sir." 

You felt his hands push your dress up, one then clutching the side of your hip as the other guided himself back into you. In mere seconds, just after moving into you, his speed had changed from before. Going in and out of you at a velocity you couldn't even comprehend in your head. 

"H-holy shit." you puffed, tears genuinely welling in your eyes. 

Your body naturally squirmed, letting out whimpers as Seonghwa laced his hands into your hair, pulling you slightly upwards since your body was growing limp from the overwhelming pleasure. He was pounding into you, not only at an uncalculable pace, but it was enough to make tears fall to your cheeks. 

Seonghwa noticed this and stopped for a moment, "Too hard?"

But you look back, shaking your head as you moaned when you backed yourself up against him, "Harder."

He resisted the urge to scream because of how unbelievable you were. With every second that this rendezvous progressed, it seemed that you really were the girl he dreamed of. The lust-filled sounds, the enjoyment of his cock stretching you out, the way your face showed how much you were devouring the moment—he never imaged that you would be so obscene. 

But he wouldn't want you any other way. 

His hands moved from your waist as he slightly bent lower, guiding them over to your tits. With ease, he pulled both your bra and dress down enough to let them out, teasing your buds which only made you clench around him.

"You like that, huh?" he rhetorically asked, knowing that you were too fucked out to answer, "God, you are such a fucking slut."

"F—" the letter elongated before you could let out a proper answer in between your moans and cries, "Fuck y-yeah."

"Good." he said, before having one hand still play with your breast while the other went down to your clit, "I'm fucking close, and I need you to cum with me."

"Yes, sir." you managed to say in a slight pant, "I'm so, so close."

Soon, his thrusts became a bit sloppy as his orgasm inched closer, but not enough that he didn't still feel godly inside you. Your mind and body were no longer working together to keep yourself up, but Seonghwa could see this.

In a quick motion, he grabbed your arms off his desk, gripping them as if he could bruise them, fucking you harder as you were now dependent on his strength to keep you stood up. In this case, it only made it so much more pleasurable as it helped him get deeper.

"I'm gonna cum." your words slurred together as you felt the familiar tingle throughout your whole body.

"Me too."

Almost immediately after those words, you both came at the same time, Seonghwa pushing far inside you as you clenched around him. The moans you let out were like a mantra as he groaned aloud, cumming harder than he ever did when he was alone, thinking about you.

He pulled out of you, pulling his pants up properly to tuck himself in, breathing heavily as he guided you to the couch to sit down again. Surely, your legs would be sore after what he had just done to you.

But before you sat down, and he was already sat, you stood in between his thighs and touched yourself. Letting two of your own fingers inside you, you collected what you could of his cum, which was then already mixed in with yours, and happily licked it into your mouth.

Seonghwa smirked, admiring how hot you were before he realized what he had done. As if Seonghwa and 'Sir' Seonghwa were two different personas, his facial expression changed to worry.

"Wait. I got too caught up on how good you felt, and I came inside you."

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" you also snapping out of whatever trance that sex with him put on you.

"What?" his eyes still filled with panic.

You wanted to laugh but thought it wouldn't be too appropriate (as if what you two had done in the office was), "I'm on birth control. I have been since Japan? Have you not noticed?"

"Wait, those were the pills you always took every time your phone set off an alarm? Didn't you tell me they were allergy pills?"

"That's before I knew I was going to sleep with you, boss."

He froze, squinting his eyes at you as he frowned. But, he knew he had a bit of an upper hand as he teased,

"Don't you mean 'Sir'?"

"I hate you."

"Sure you do."

"Also," you wondered, "How the hell am I going to explain the hickeys. And, am I supposed to go commando for the rest of the day?"

"Well," Seonghwa stood up, tapping your shoulders before walking away from you to behind his desk. He opened one of his empty drawers and  placed your underwear into it, "You have concealer, and I have my souvenir."

"Well," you echoed his words, "You better go to the bathroom and clean yourself up and put on your shirt before anyone gets back. And I'm guessing they will be back soon."

"Trust me, sweetheart." he pondered as he walked over to you once again. With one hand squeezing your waist, he placed a kiss on your cheek before whispering, "I've never fucked anyone so hard until they looked like how much of a slut you are right now."

You stared at the people scattered around in your apartment, all of them being people you cared for (arguably on different levels. Frankly, you could leave some of them on speaker and pretend to listen on call), but one stood out in particular. 

Choi San. 

It had been three years since you'd known him, having found each other on the same apartment floor in Seoul, each floor only fit for two residences. As if you were meant to meet. 

As he lived across from you, you two had learned that there was much in common between you both. Whether it was the love for animals or the hatred towards anything too bitter, it seemed that those years of getting to know each other resulted in becoming best friends. 

Although both you and San had your differences, which made up all the thrill of unnecessary arguments over which gummy shape is best, there was one significant aspect that separated the two of you. 

You were 21 and a virgin. 

Not that that should be an issue in the first place, as it was nothing to be judged for, but you felt as if you were the only 21-year-old around who hadn't 'been with' someone. 

Meanwhile, you could almost recall each time San had somebody over, making you doubt even more if you'd ever lose your virginity. Let alone to him. 

Around two years into your friendship with San, you realized that you liked him quite a lot. Not only because he was handsome, but he was thoughtful, genuine, and could remember which sugar level you preferred in different drinks. 

You had full doubts of him having feelings for you since he's had one-nights and one (or two) partners throughout the three years. 

You had a boyfriend once early on into moving to your new place, Lee Juyeon. He was very much a good man to you, and you had no doubts that you did like him during the time you were with him. He was always patient with you, and never once did you argue out of proportion. 

It seemed that it lasted about seven months before you realized that the spark had gone entirely, or more so each other. Not because you were looking at anyone else or even San at that point, but you had work and university to take care of. 

You didn't want Juyeon to feel as if you were putting him aside. 

Much to your dismay, Juyeon was feeling the same. He was beginning to feel exhausted over his aspiring career and agreed to the break-up. With a simple hug and a truthful 'I'll miss you,' he left your place with a content look on his face.

Yet, although it was all in agreement and shared understanding, you remembered a week later you were crying in San's arms. Despite the pain being very bearable, the reasoning for your crying was in between missing Juyeon or yearning for a lover. 

Even then, within those seven relished months, it seemed that you both didn't go beyond feeling each other up under the comforting fabric of your shirts during makeout sessions. You always craved for more, in all honesty, but you were all too prideful to bring it up with Juyeon. 

What you felt for him was sweet but vague. It seemed that you two fit more like friends than lovers. As for how you felt towards San, now staring at him in your living room as you stood in the kitchen pouring a Sprite, it was from natural connection and passion. 

And it always also sweet. There was never a moment San never cared for you and visa versa. 

"Listen, it's been one and a half years since you've dated Juyeon. You've established your feelings for San after a year now, and it's worth taking the shot." Wooyoung, who was a mutual friend between you and San, told you. In a way, almost scolding you. 

"Dude, do you think it's easy for me? After years of middle school rejection and the hell of high school, not to mention coursing through university without sex, it's like trauma at this point to tell someone how I feel about them." 

You took a swig of the soda that was in your mug since it was your home, and you didn't want to waste any more paper cups, looking at Wooyoung as if he was talking to you about something nonsensical. 

In your heart, you knew that he was right. But then again, admitting that he was right meant that you would have to tell San. It seemed that Wooyoung knew something you did not, and yet you were clueless to what it was. 

"Listen, you're a virgin because you were scared." 

"I really don't think it's that." you sighed, looking at your friend, then facing the living room again.

To your delight, San was looking at you, sending you a smile that you could dream about for a week worth of nights. Before you met San, you remembered not dreaming often. But now, strange and enchanting dreams alike, you always had them. 

Time passed by quite quickly as you tried to keep your mind off of Wooyoung's encouragement, doubting every single word that passed his lips. You know he meant well, but the thought of telling San made you want to hurl. 

With every person that passed the door, you had a sliver of hope that San might walk out too. But you knew better. You knew him all too well that he would stay, help you send the guests out, and clean up. Because he knew that you would do the same for him. 

And as your apartment grew emptier and emptier, you found yourself sat on the couch with San doing the same beside you. 

"Hey." he started, shifting his body to the side to face you.

"Hi." you responded, doing the same as him while hugging a pillow.

"What'd you talk to Woo about? Seemed pretty serious." 

You pursed your lips, hesitating to say a word. But San was your closest friend and the man you eventually began to grow feelings for. You love him too much for you to not at least tell him something. 

"So..." you trailed, "You know that I'm a ... virgin, right?"

San nodded, his face slightly flushed because of the mention of your sexual status. He could recall the various times you were frustrated, being able to hear you from his place, shouting at yourself, and questioning why Juyeon wasn't the one you could lose it to. 

"Wooyoung thinks I'm scared."

"Why do you think you're scared?" he asked, sitting up properly to hear you better. 

"I don't think I am, and it's not like I've never done anything," you spoke, referencing all the times that you've somehow reached a point that was 'almost-sex,' "I think... I just haven't found the right person to have the urge to do it... with."

Your words slowed down when your eyes met with San's, and it seemed that gravity had brought you two closer on the couch. Although that would be impossible on itself, you swore that whenever you looked, spoke, or touched San- you fell more and more for him. 

"Ah," was the only thing San could say, attempting to ignore his urge to tell you that he wanted to be your first, "I guess people like those come very rarely for some of us." 

"Yeah." you breathed out, swallowing the lump in your throat. 

He was doubtful, but San decided to move closer to you to face you better, taking your hands off of your laps to be placed into his palms out of comfort. Years ago, you told him that your grandmother used to take your hands in hers when you felt sad. Since then, San had done it whenever you felt the slightest bit blue. 

Unbeknownst to you, despite San's indulges in numerous people for sex, you always seemed to stay in his heart. There was never a moment that he'd want to forget with you. Whether those were the fights, stupid texts, and late-night wonderings, every day was mundane yet better with you in it. 

Yet somehow, you were the destination he didn't have the guts to reach. His feet always seemed to walk him to the bus stop but never stepping into it. He had his ticket at hand for his way to you, but he hesitated to leave what was his town of comfort to reach you. 

"You..." San trailed, "You are one of the best people I've ever met. Whoever you choose to lose it to one day, Y/N? He might be the luckiest guy in the world. Even if you don't marry that guy, I bet that he'll cherish that night more than you will. Because that is how great you are." 

You were sure, very sure, that he was the one you wanted to lose your virginity to. But you didn't know how to put the fact you liked him into words, let alone that you wanted to go to bed with him. 

His words, the way he looked at you, maybe Wooyoung was leading onto something and didn't want to speak on behalf of San. He always strangely encouraged you, a bit too strongly, as if he knew something. 

No, you thought. I can't be deluded by my own fantasy. I'll just go to sleep and forget about this conversation tomorrow.

"Hey, San?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm kind of sleepy," you said while taking your hands off of his (to which he looked down at rather sadly, but you didn't notice), "Can we call it a night?" 

"Oh! Of course. Of course, yeah. Sure." he rambled, standing up from the couch, scratching the back of his head. 

You stood up after him, smiling meekly. It appeared that you were uncomfortable, but it was all because you couldn't trust yourself any longer to keep your confession in. Doing as you usually did, you opened your arms up for a hug. 

"Goodnight!" 

San, who was very much trying not to smile too hard, took a step closer to you. With your arms going around his upper body, his wrapped around your shoulders. And much like before, he reassured you by having his right hand gently stroke the back of your head. 

"Night," he returned back. 

But as the two of you pulled away, there was a brief second where your eyes met his. He didn't know if it was because of the moment, but the boy moved the hand previously stroking your hair to the side of your face. 

It was that moment when you realized that your apartment had gone quite cold since many people had left. Even though the majority of the company you had before was gone, San was more than enough. 

He was all you needed right now, all you wanted. 

His lips touched your forehead, staying for quite a few seconds before you felt it go away. The kiss was as light as a feather, but it made your heart feel as heavy as a rock. Letting out a shaky breath, San felt as if he didn't have much control of his body, and his heart was doing all the work. 

Inching down, another kiss was placed on the bridge of your nose. 

Another right barely ghosting your cupid's bow. 

And the last one, one that seemed to take an eternity to happen, was on your lips. To which, you kissed back, grip tightening around San's body as your hands wrinkled his shirt. 

More than usual, you felt yourself feel very flustered. Whether it was your whole body or the specific spot between your legs, San always sent goosebumps throughout your body. And he, just as much as you, couldn't believe that you were kissing back. 

When the minutes passed as the two of you continued to kiss, and either of you tried to resist the forming arousal, you took the initiative to pull away. For a few seconds, you looked at San, but he didn't have the nerve to look at you. And as his hair covered his face, you pulled one of your hands away from his body.

With a gentle hand, you swiped it away from his face. Your much softer hands than his stroked the side of his face, your thumb gently grazing his cheek. Finally, he looked up, and somehow his eyes were a little teary. With his own hand, he held yours that was on his face leaning onto it. 

"You just kissed me," you spoke out, above a whisper.

"And you kissed back." he smiled, "Can I kiss you again?"

"Please." 

Now both of San's hands were on each of your cheeks. With an eager smile, he shook his head before he kissed you again, "I can't believe that I'm doing this with you."

"Me neither." 

"San?" you asked, your voice slightly shaking, "Do you... do you want to do it with me?"

"Do what-" he suddenly understood what you meant.

You saw that he seemed a bit shocked, "No, San. I've always thought about this. About us. About you. You're the only person I've ever thought of doing it with."

You then closed your eyes, holding your head in your hands when you realized what you had just said. What you had just confessed. You sat down on the couch, apologizing as if you said something wrong. 

San, who was questioning why you were apologizing, kneeled down in front of you. Once again, like before, he took your hands in his. This time, he barely put his forehead against yours, kissing your cheek maybe a million times for you to know that he didn't mind.

At all.

"Y/N?" he started. You responded with a shy 'Hm?', eyebrows furrowed as you stared into his brown eyes, "I've been waiting for this moment for months. And I promise you if I could give you more than me, I would."

"You're more than enough, Choi San." 

Slowly but surely, San stripped you from your clothes. And with each item, he pecked multiple kisses all over your body. He asked you ever so often if you were okay, and you reassured him with a beaming smile that you were. 

Your skin felt as if it was burning in the best way possible with every touch that came from his hands to your naked body for the first time. With all the insecurity you've cooped up for all the years, refusing to ever come out of the gym showers naked, you've never felt as beautiful before. 

And San had never seen someone as beautiful as you. If he had seen you like this sooner, he would know what he was missing even more. When he thought there could be no other way you could arouse him more, especially compared to that time you wore a skirt he picked out with you, he was falling in love with you even more. 

"Are you sure..." San trailed, "You want to do this with me?"

"San?" you asked the man who was hovering on top of you. 

"Yeah?"

"You-" you started, kissing his cheek and whispering into his ear, "You are the loveliest man I have ever met. And there's never been anyone I want to lose my virginity to more." 

It was as if a switch went off on San. Holding himself up over you with one hand (to which you couldn't help but stare at his arm and bare chest, admiring the lines of muscle on his skin) as he skimmed the back pocket of his jeans for his wallet. 

Taking it out, he held it up to you. 

"There's... a condom in there." he almost laughed, looking at your wide eyes, "Do you mind taking it out?" 

With reluctant movements, you opened his wallet. Looking at through, you suddenly gasped when you saw something else. 

"Is that..." you stared at the cardholder that held a picture that meant a lot to San. 

He nodded, shyly smiling and looking away, staring at the framed image of the two of you on the table beside the couch. Before you loved him as a man, you loved him as a best friend, and every night you never failed to look at that picture before going to your bedroom.

But now, the picture you were looking at in his wallet was one of you and him in a photo booth. Although cliche, it was one of the photos from the set the both of you took after San had a frustrating day at work, and you had spontaneously brought him over to the mall and spent the rest of the day together. 

With you behind him, you held his lips up to make a smile with your pointer fingers. It wasn't the most flattering picture of either of you, but one that made San's day better whenever he opened his wallet. 

Realizing that you were distracting yourself, you looked through the folds and finally saw a shining purple packet. Guessing that was it, you felt a small part of yourself both panic and feel impressed; it was trojan. 

"What, baby?" you were surprised by the sudden pet name, "Were you expecting less because I'm Korean?" 

San took his wallet away from your hands, throwing it to God knows where gripping either of your wrists above your head. The packet went into his pocket for later use.

He began to kiss you, deepening it with each second, jean-clad crotch grinding against your bare pussy.

You moaned against his lips from the friction, legs wrapping around his sides. You couldn't help but move onto him, eager to do more to please your untouched core. What were you to lose? Besides your virginity. 

"I. Never. Expect. Less. From. You." each word you exasperated out, separated by kisses. 

"You are such a sweetheart," he said against your lips, tips of both of your noses grazing, "Do you mind if I-"

"For the love of God, San." you started to reassure him, "You could bend me backward over this couch, and I would still do it with you, tenfold."

"Jesus, woman. What are you into?" San joked, his hands now freeing your wrists and moving over to knead your breasts, "You like this?"

You nodded, absolutely adoring the man touching you. It felt great, but you gasped in surprise when San went down, engulfing a nipple into his mouth. It also didn't help that now, one of his knees was purposely grinding itself against your wettening pussy. 

Your moans filled the room when San hummed against your nipple, sucking harder when your nails were slightly pressed against the skin of his shoulder blades. Not that anybody had to know, but San was as much of a masochist as he was a sadist. 

"S-San?"

"M'yeah, baby?" he asked, his voice murmured when he was kissing down your body. 

"Could you... maybe..." you admittedly felt timid to ask, "P-prep me?" 

"As if you couldn't get any cuter, my love." San traced your lips with his thumb at first, then tracing them with his middle finger, "Why don't you open your mouth a little, baby? Stick that pretty little tongue out." 

You did as told, feeling his finger gently touch it. You closed your lips around it, putting in the effort as you pretended it was his cock. You didn't break away from eye contact, taking all of it into your mouth and pulling away, a string of saliva shining under the light. 

"Oh, oh, baby. You're really eager, aren't you?" he teased.

Backing away by an inch, San made space for his hand to go in between your legs. But when he began to feel up and down your pussy, he brushed against your clit and began to circle on it. Because his touches were light but constant, you jolted for more. 

"Why did I even have you suck my finger?" San began to lick up from the base of your neck to your lips, encompassing you with a passionate kiss, "You're already so. Fucking. Wet." 

"S-San." you mewled, "M-more, please."

Instead of listening to your pleas, he pulled away, letting out a chuckle as if to tell you, 'I won't let you off that easy.' Bringing his now covered finger towards himself, tutted you to open your mouth without any words by tapping your lips. 

You did, sucking his finger clean of your sweet cum. 

"You're so hot." he sighed out, "I think you do deserve more."

You squealed when San suddenly hopped off, his hands gripping the back of your knees to pull you to a different position. Now, you had to bend your legs to avoid them from falling off the couch, as San now kneeled in front of you. 

San licked a stripe upwards, flicking your clit with his tongue, causing you to breathe out. San was pushing your knees back, devouring you into the night, making you try to hold back your moans as he abused your clit. 

"F-fuck." you cursed, throwing your head back against a cushion. Your hands found their way to San's hair, entangling the gaps in between your fingers with his soft locks. 

"Mmmh." he hummed against your pussy, bringing vibrations that shocked you closer to your finish. 

"S-San!" you cried, an octave higher than your original voice. 

As the pleasure started to overwhelm your body, both it and your heart finally gaining the ease it deserved, you thought San couldn't pull anymore. After all, you didn't know any better. 

You were the one who never had sex before. 

"Oh-" you started, surprised when San let a finger pass through your sopping hole, "Oh, fucking hell.”

"Am I turning you on that much that this just slipped right in, hm?" you hated how he was taunting you, yet you couldn't help but squirm, "I'm taking that as a yes?"

You let out a louder moan, the embarrassment washing over your head since the pleasure had flooded you by now. It felt oh, so right when San began to make his middle finger move in a 'come hither' motion. However, he suddenly stopped inside you. 

"Wh-why'd you-" 

"Listen, baby." he growled, "I want you to be as loud as you want. I want to hear those pretty moans of yours. And most importantly,"

He then slowly pushed a second one in, stretching you out a bit more with care. Surprisingly, it wasn't painful, and it only ached slightly. Gradually, San began to push in and out of you, making you do as he said; be as loud as you want. 

But again, like before, he stopped. 

And as you whined, his left hand pushed back your thigh a bit more, "Most importantly, I want you to speak when I ask you a question. Or else, I'm going to leave you here and wait until tomorrow to fuck you." 

You swallowed the lump in your throat, just then realizing that you had never remembered being fingered by any other guy to feel this good, not even yourself. 

"N-no, please," you begged. 

"It's okay, my love. I'm taking care of you tonight because how can I walk away from you, all gorgeous here for me? I would be the stupidest man alive to not want to be with you, let alone be the first man." 

You covered your face with both your hands, trying not to let San see it. How could you feel shy now, when you knew that he wanted this just as much as you? 

He continued to press against that one spot, his palm pressed against your clit, adding to the arousal. You were fogged with pleasure, but you weren't blinded enough to not know that San could be uncomfortable in his jeans. 

After all, you did feel how hard he had gotten before.

You brought one of your hands to his crotch, palming him through his jeans. When he felt what you were doing, he inwardly groaned. Being used to having to get ready in a rush, you unbuttoned his jeans with one hand, snaking your way into his boxers. 

Taking it out of the fabric, it was then you felt his size. San wasn't too big, nor was he average. You visibly smiled, knowing that you could take him, but still feel a stretch if he were to go inside. 

As if he was made for you. 

"If you weren't this fucking tight," he smirked when you gasped when he started to fuck you harder with his fingers, "I wouldn't believe you were a virgin." 

After a few more plunges into you, you felt yourself grow close. San could tell by how the hand jacking off his cock began to loosen as it shuddered, trying to pay attention not to stop.

"You wanna cum, darling?" he said in a provoking tone. 

"Y-yes, please," you begged, pushing yourself against his hand more, "N-now."

"It's okay, just cum." 

As if it was a command, you came. Unlike the times before and the times you did it on your own, it felt worlds better than you imagined. Easing out of the spell, you were shocked when San brought his fingers into his own mouth. 

Sucking his own fingers clean, he smirked down to you, "My baby's so sweet." 

Silently, you snuck a hand around his abdomen, grabbing the packet in his pocket. When you found it, you gestured it towards San. 

"I'm ready."

With no other words, he ripped the condom packet with his teeth, spitting the separated foil to the ground, "Do you want to put it on me?" 

"Are you sure I won't make a mistake?"

"It's like saran wrap around a cucumber," he smiled when he saw you laugh, your nerves calming down much more, "Except it's not green and hard."

"You sure?" you snaked your hand down from his shoulder down to his member, slowly pumping it as if you knew what you were doing. In retrospect, you did, but this was Choi San. 

He inwardly groaned, gripping the back of the couch more, knuckles turning white when you stared up at him while biting your lip. You held the foil packet he had given to you, grabbing the rubber that was inside. 

As calm as possible, trying to recollect every time you saw the demonstration in Sex-Ed, you smoothly rolled on the condom with ease around San.

"Hey, you're pretty good at that." he chuckled. 

"Pays off to listen in class." you joked. But after a second, that went away when San kissed your forehead for relaxation, "I think I'm ready San." 

"Okay." he whispered out, "Okay, you trust me?"

"More than anyone." 

And as San began to push inside you, there was no ounce of regret when you looked at him. All your life, or at least for the last few years, you've been pressing yourself to find somebody worth losing it to. And now, here, this was the most special you've ever felt. 

And you were never so sure of something. 

One hand gripping the back of the couch for stability, the other holding your thigh up. You bit your lip, closing your eyes shut from the new feeling. 

"Breathe, okay? Come on," he inched his body closer to you until you could hear his own breathing, "Pace with me, darling." 

He tried hard to not fuck your soul out of your body, completely and utterly in love with both you and the feeling of you. With each breath you sucked in, he slowly pulled out. And with each one you let out, he slowly pushed in. 

And after a few thrusts and getting used to, you kissed San and hugged his body to hearten him, "You can go faster."

He, to whatever being or science that created this universe, he thanked it. The warmth of your pussy, how it hugged around his cock, he couldn't stand going as slow as he was before. If you were anyone else, if this wouldn't be the first time you two were doing this, San had sworn that the couch would be broken by now. 

But maybe for another time. 

"Fuck, you're so tight." he threw his head back, trying to shake himself to reality and that this was happening right here, right now. 

San began to thrust in and out of you, stretching you open as you let out small moans mixed with sighs of pleasure. You were trembling, goosebumps littering your skin as the man you had fallen in love with a year and a half ago treated you as if you were glass. 

And as for San, euphoria rushed through his veins as he tried extremely hard to make sure that he wasn't only fucking you, but he was making love to you the way you deserved.

The romantic bliss that he rarely experienced with his one night stands made him realize that if he were to never have sex with anyone else again, he'd be glad that you were his last or if you were his forever. 

And he wanted you to be ever since he knew that he had been in love with you a year ago. 

"San," he snapped back to reality at your beck and call, "I-It feels so good."

"Fuck, you're driving me mad," he said, his voice slightly shaking from the overwhelming pleasure, "You feel absolutely amazing."

San brought one of his hands away from clutching the couch. Getting it close to your pussy, beginning to rub your clit along with his movements that were increasing. 

He watched your face contort your pleasure, your neck exposed for him to leave a few hickeys as you bit into your couch cushion, moaning out. As he began to kiss you around your neck, eventually sucking various marks to heighten your senses. 

Besides, he wanted to physically see what made you his after this. He couldn't help it, knowing that if you looked this mesmerizing now, how much more you'd look in the next times. In hopes, you would. 

"I-" your hands found their way from his shoulders to the sides of his face, looking into his eyes, "I'm close." 

"Me too," he spoke through clenched teeth, swearing that he had ground them straight from trying not to cum, "Cum with me, okay?"

"Y-yeah." you exasperated out, "Kiss me, please." 

"Baby." he breathed out, bringing his lips onto yours. 

His thrusts began to grow sloppy, but it still managed to bring you closer as ever. His hand continued to massage your clit, making you shake even closer to your orgasm. 

As you clenched around him, seconds close to untying the knot inside you, your hands quivered as your lips parted against his. Your chest heaved when you felt yourself begin to cum, your walls tightening, making San outwardly groan in a release.

As you felt him twitch inside you, you came as well, attaching your lips unto his again, your body uncontrollably shaking from the wave of pleasure. 

San, knowing precisely what to do, got off of you for a brief moment to unwind. Knowing well that you would be very unaware of your surroundings for just a few seconds, he ran to the bathroom, tying the used condom and tossing it into the trash. 

Tucking himself back into his boxers and jeans (not bothering to zip them, they held up on their own), he washed his face with cold water and ran back out. Much to his dismay, you were still there, but now sitting on the couch with bent knees, covering your own body. 

"Hey, hey." he carefully tutted, running to grab the blanket that was usually displayed on the couch arm, "Come here."

You did try to move, but frankly, you couldn't. 

"Uh... San?" 

"Right! Right, I'm sorry." he apologized, to which you responded with an 'I'm fine.' 

You squealed when he carried you, bridal style, placing you over his lap as he grabbed the blanket to cover mostly you than him. You realized that maybe you still felt a little insecure when you weren't doing it, despite San being shirtless as well. 

You placed your head on his shoulder, finally pacifying down when you became aware of Everything. What just happened, who you had done it with, and why you loved the man who was holding you. 

"What now?" San asked, your bare legs draped over his clothed thighs as you played with his hair. 

"Wait," you suddenly remember, San responding with a worried 'what,' "Aren't I supposed to pee or something? My friend told me that I always should pee after sex to avoid an STD, should I-"

"That was what you were worried about?" he laughed, but not putting it past you since... it was you, "I thought you were worried that you regretted doing it with me." 

"San." you said in a tone that scared him quite a bit, "For years, I thought that if I forced it enough, I'd find the person I'd want to do it with. The amount of times I've kicked somebody out or told a boyfriend 'no', it's almost devastating. -

- But somehow, for some reason," you moved your hands down to gently brushing his face with your nails, soothing him, "Everything is so easy with you. Up until the moment I admitted that I wanted you to be my first, despite all the nervousness I had that you'd find out that I had feelings for you, even if you were bad, I'd still be with you."  

"Really?" San couldn't look at your face, shyly facing away and tracing your blanketed knees with his fingers, "Me too. Me. Too. And you were so, so good to me tonight."

Your lips connected with his, and you felt that similar rush that you had since the start of the night. And as he refused to let go, you didn't want to either, you had thought, 

"Does this mean that I'm your girlfriend now?" 

"No," he shook his head, "More than that. You are my girlfriend, my best friend, and the love of my life." 

"You're all that to me too, and my first." 

Everything started with a visit from San to your apartment for sugar. You then visited, going to his to see if he was alright after he didn't come out of his apartment for a few days. 

From then on, the friendship that bloomed within a month began to grow more, and you trusted him with your life, visa versa. After three years of knowing each other, a year of the consciousness of being in love with one another;

It all started with a goodnight's kiss.

kim hongjoong * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

୨୧ fics & one shots

— none yet !

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— [requested] sappy picnic date with boyfriend!hongjoong (fem!reader) | fluff | 1.07k words

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— none yet !

park seonghwa * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

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— none yet !

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— 9:38 PM with jealous boyfriend!seonghwa (fem!reader) | smut

In which a jealous Park Seonghwa loves to see your mascara run down your face when he's fucking into you.

— 11:05 PM with coworker!seonghwa (gn!reader) | suggestive [♡]

In which you cut your finger while pre-mincing peaches for puree and coworker Park Seonghwa helps you. A little too much.

— 12:25 AM with dom!seonghwa & dom!yeosang (fem!reader) | smut | 🎄 special

In which Park Seonghwa and Kang Yeosang fuck their first, and favorite, Christmas present of the day; you.

୨୧ series

「 Puma Blue 」 series masterlist | smut | ONGOING

fashion designer!seonghwa x new designer!(fem) reader

jung yunho * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

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kang yeosang * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

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— none yet !

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— 12:25 AM with dom!seonghwa & dom!yeosang (fem!reader) | smut | 🎄 special

In which Park Seonghwa and Kang Yeosang fuck their first, and favorite, Christmas present of the day; you.

୨୧ series

— none yet !

choi san * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

୨୧ fics & one shots

— Golden Hour | New York City, 1999 | fluff & smut | san x fem reader | 3.01k words

Your fingers grazed his glimmering muscles as he kissed down your neck, hums of approval passing your lips. But as you began to relax, San moved his left hand to grip your throat, forcing your jaw up to look at him dead in the eyes.

— A Goodnight’s Kiss [requested] | Seoul, 2020 | ‘first time’ smut | san x fem reader | 5.76k words

Your skin felt as if it was burning in the best way possible with every touch that came from his hands to your naked body for the first time.

୨୧ shorts & timestamps

— 10:36 PM with dom-boyfriend!san (fem!reader) | smut

In which your lust-fueled boyfriend, Choi San, loves it when you smile during sex. He’s also a whore for being called daddy.

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— none yet !

song mingi * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

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— none yet !

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— 1:02 AM with idol boyfriend!mingi (gn!reader) | fluff [♡]

In which you and your boyfriend share a sweet moment together as you sooth his pain away with tiger balm.

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— none yet !

jung wooyoung * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

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choi jongho * ੈ✩‧₊˚*

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୨୧ series

You had doubts he felt the same. To him, the head pats and comforting gazes that he gave you were acts fueled by friendship.

But to you, to your heart that belonged to him and him only, they were acts of affection. Every time he let you know he was there for you, you yearned for something more than a side-hug. You wanted him to kiss you, hold you—understand you as a lover.

And as the tears ran down your face, all of those things were exactly what you wanted now, as he had one arm around you on one of the campus benches;

"Why are you crying?"

I can't tell you that I love you.

"Let it out, it's alright. I could care less about class right now. I can afford to be a little late for once."

Why do you have to do the things you hate just to make me feel okay? It makes everything harder.

"I was so worried."

Not in the way I want you to be.

"Is there anything you want me to get you?"

All or nothing, I want all of you.

"Do you want me to stay here with you?"

Everything hurts so bad.

"No. No," you harshly sniffed up, "It's alright. I think I just need time for myself. But, thank you, Hyunnie. Go to class, okay?"

Getting up. Leaving. Taking each step away despite his now fading calls. Hearing him say 'okay, but expect a text from me later!' the loudest that he could without embarrassment to assure you could hear him. It took a lot to leave that way.

It took so much for you to not let the hyperventilation take over your entire body. No, it wasn't physical weakness that made you feel this way. Who knew emotional turmoil had such an effect?

Again, you were frozen. You were the coward you always have been. You were stuck in the same position over and over again, and it was all your fault (that's what your insecurities told you).

It didn't help that he only did it to you. You were the only person he felt close enough to, besides his four other friends, to hand his full attention on a platter that you wished you could break, smash, and hit yourself with.

Under his naturally ice-cold stare, you wanted to tell him; "I know I love you." and wished that you could watch the warmth that he usually gave you take over his heart as he would say back, "I know it's real, I can feel it."

His acceptance of your heart, it would let you no longer sink alone into this freezing ocean you were now used to. The tips of your finger were beginning to turn black, frostbite beginning to cover your body the longer you kept it in—the longer you stopped yourself from telling him your feelings.

However, you had sunk into your stress so much that you were stuck into some kind of thought limbo. It hit you that you were a part of his everyday routine. You were a part of his habits.

He had a habit of running over to your dorm if you were more than ten minutes late to class, having lied to the professor saying that he had a stomach ache.

He had a habit of texting you every time someone had given him a headache in the classes you two didn't share, which was almost often.

He had a habit of coming up behind you, a small 'what's up' passing his lips.

There was this thing he always told you when you were having a bad day; "Perfect days don't exist."

But that would follow up with an offer to hang out with him, do something new or anything trivial to just keep your mind off whatever was making you upset.

That was it. Exactly why you fell for Taehyun. He wasn't often the touchiest, nor was he the most openly attentive, but it was the small things he said and did that made you smile.

The fact he was a realist (maybe a pessimistic at times—no, almost all the time), that he was almost pretentiously smart but never enough to make you hate him, and that he cared for you. Just not in the way you wanted.

Your friend had asked you once, "Isn't it enough that he loves you? Does he have to be in love with you for you to be okay? He treats you well nonetheless."

You remember blankly staring at them, not being able to give an answer. In reality, you couldn't come up with one. It just wasn't enough. After years of knowing Taehyun, knowing almost every part of him, and loving even the parts he hated, you felt that you were just as enough to complete him.

A part of you knew your worth, knew how much you made his life better just as much as he did yours, but something was stopping you. Maybe it was that you were afraid to lose him, maybe it was another typical reason, but it seemed that every time some form of courage built up inside you to tell him—you felt like vomiting.

Again, you were frozen. Inarguable to a certain extent, the life you lead before he was in your life was trash.

You wanted him to take you to his hometown, introduce you to his mom again, but not as his long-time friend.

You wanted him not to run away from you when you find the universe finally lets you tell him. But even that could take until the end of the world.

"Perfect days don't exist"—that sentence he always repeated was bullshit now. The comfort it used to bring was no longer valid.

A perfect day for you did exist.

It would be the day your wishes of him to be the one person that would be able to love you back to come true. To finally take the empty spot beside you, save you, and take your hand.

You were a loser in this game as you needed him in ways he couldn't be to you, addicted to the love you had for him as if it was a drug rotting your heart away. If only you weren't so lovesick in this one-sided, unrequited devotion.

A few months ago, you were promoted to international relations supervisor. At 23, you worked in the Tokyo branch and headquarters since graduation, working your way up to your position now. You weren't exactly unhappy, but you didn't get to design, and all you could do was give input on which pieces were selling well in certain countries.

Although you admired the innovation and technology that UNIQLO used to develop their efficient clothing, and you were happy enough to be apart of that, you had your eyes set on a couture brand that you've always wanted to work in; MARTE.

MARTE was created by a man by the name of Park Seonghwa, the founder and central designer. Although he was Korean, he was born and raised in Italy, the messiah of couture fashion, and had built his brand up from there.

For five years now, MARTE had been at its peak for its clothes centered around unisex wear, assuring that clothes traditionally catered to women or men could be for either gender. They often experimented around with fabrics mixed patterns that should clash, but they made it work.

And a part of you almost felt too lucky when you had befriended their textile designer three years ago, Kim Hongjoong. Because he had called you at 2:00AM your time to confirm the rumors.

Whispers went around that Park Seonghwa was looking for an assistant designer after firing his previous one since finding out they had tried stealing his ideas, attempting to pitch them to another brand for "higher pay." And it was right when Hongjoong contacted you, even if it was when you were half asleep.

Of course, when you heard the news, your body felt as if it had slept for a whole weekend over.

"Hongjoong, I've never loved you more. Do you know how much I love you?" you said through the phone, almost crying.

"I know," you could hear the smug tone in his voice, "How's it going over at UNIQLO?"

"I mean, it's great. But you know how much I want to make my own pieces. It's almost agonizing that I can only give comments here and there. I can't actually design anything."

"Not to mention, you don't even have to fly here yet."

"Then how is he going to interview me? Through video call?" you asked, genuinely not understanding what Hongjoong was getting at.

"I think I bit off a bit more and hyped you too much. Seonghwa's going there to Tokyo to see you."

The second Hongjoong had spoken those words to you through the cracking sounds emitting from the telephone, you had thrown your phone against your bed as tears started to well up in your eyes.

It had been a week since he had told you the news, and it was twenty seconds until you had to meet the Park Seonghwa at your lobby as you nervously fidgeted in the elevator. For the time that you waited, you had communicated with the designer through Hongjoong.

You insisted that you could've picked him up or at least met the man at the airport, but he insisted (once again, through Hongjoong) that he would like to go to the headquarters you were working at to see you.

Park Seonghwa was a man who often kept to himself. The media never really knew about him beyond his creations and kindness, often complimenting how the designer appeared more like a model. But something inside your gut told you that he was much more than his looks.

After all, you were an avid fan of his brand, having waited in front of one of MARTE's stores once to get a newly released top.

But you couldn't lie to yourself for the hell of it; you were intimidated by the man the second you laid eyes on him.

There he stood, in all his glory, dressed head to toe as if there was a runway he needed to attend. Over his toned body, of course, you knew this information from the news and not from your own willingness, was a striped navy blazer over an open-collar white shirt. His pants matched, forming a suit, the white-gemmed silver jewelry pulling everything together.

And you noticed that he was wearing the shoes he designed in collaboration with a shoe brand from Korea, the black buckle across the shining leather boots making you want them more.

You felt that you looked drab compared to him, wearing a brown maxi skirt with black stockings underneath.

The sleeveless, shired matching-coloured turtle neck did no justice in giving you warmth, but the orange-beige leather trench coat did. The length of it almost reached your 70s-styles platform loafers, the firm leather looking polished under the light.

Frankly, any other person would've thought you looked anything but dreary. And the contrast between the cool-tones he sported to your more warm ones could make anyone question if you two were a couple.

Your fingers tightened around the folder you carried. In it, all of the designs, mood boards, fabric testers, and a complete record of your history with fashion from your education to your present work. The perfect portfolio, you'd say. You had even tagged each section by date.

And as much as you tried to stop your heart from pounding, it only began to slow down its pace even more, when you realized how much more handsome the designer was in real life, even if you were still slowly (and nervously) walking over towards him. Five feet away, and he was already breathtaking with half his face visible to you.

He heard your footsteps and was expectant of your presence, turning his heel to face you properly. The second he laid eyes on you, engulfed in your sight, he could feel his heart pump slower as if opium had entered his blood.

He felt his breathing grow shallow, his heart rate slowed down like yours, and it was as if he was glued to the concrete floor of your workplace, his mind not following along with his physique.

It was only when you spoke his name that he was snapped out of his stupor.

"Mr. Park, it's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N." you spoke in English, holding your hand out to him while the other held up your thickset folder.

Seonghwa scrunched his hand into a first to realize that he still had his motor skills, reaching out to shake yours as a professional introduction. He kept his grip firm but not too strong where he'd hurt or make you feel threatened. Not that he thought he seemed like a threat. 

He couldn't keep his gaze off of you, taking in the softer features of your face compared to his rather sharp ones. His feet subconsciously followed yours when you led him into a conference room, all the words you were saying muffled into his ears. 

Park Seonghwa, he thought to himself. This is an interview to hire her as a potential designer. Get your shit together. 

He bowed to you when you gestured him to sit down first, which he noted in his head to be an outstanding work ethic. Living in Europe for most of his life, he felt the sense of home whenever he came back to Asia, the mannerisms familiar to the ones he could only experience before with his direct family in Italy. 

Only then did he notice that you were holding a file, seemingly unsure of the timing of when to hand it to him. 

"Excuse me, but what is that file you're holding?" 

"Oh. Oh!" you laughed, "I decided to compile all of my education records in regards to fashion, my work reports, and official designs beyond the ones Hongjoong has sent you. Here."

Even her fucking laugh is cute, are you kidding me? Seonghwa thought in his head, his conscience not helping at all. 

In a timid fashion, you pushed the bulk of papers towards him (as he was sat across you). Once he took it, you politely placed your hands back on your lap, not wanting to look at him in the eyes for too long.

This girl might kill me, he thought. Again. Repeatedly. 

You waited in anticipation when he flipped through the pages, clearly skimming but assuring that he appreciated your efforts. A satisfied smirk was brought to his face when he got to the portion of your pattern experimentations and drawings, looking at the intricacy that came with your hand touching the rough-ended pencil.

Your strokes were different than his, clearly a bit more "feminine," but not making it less than. You didn't seem to scratch the pages as much, and your erasures didn't wrinkle the paper like how he did. For once, he could look at design papers without getting frustrated from the creases (to which they were his fault). 

"As if I couldn't be more impressed by you." his reaction making you relax a little more, "Also, how should I address you?"

"Y/N is alright with me. Besides, it always makes me feel a little awkward when anybody older than me addresses me with 'miss.'" 

"Right, I am older than you." he nodded in realization. He couldn’t help but try to bury how strange it was that he liked being older than you to the darkest corner of his mind. 

MARTE's founder had always been known as a rather charismatic man, his attractive nature still pulling anybody of anybody in. From how he carried himself to his morals and personality, there wasn't a single person in the industry that could say anything bad about Park Seonghwa. 

And a part of you wanted to slap yourself silly for feeling a little flustered when you noticed that his voice in real life carried a lower timber than what you heard from the endless numbers of interviews you have watched. 

As somebody you idolized, you pinched the skin of your hand for you to assure that this wasn't a fever dream. That everything Hongjoong had said was real and happening. You admired Seonghwa for all the right reasons, both being so young and involved in the industry, but you could see yourself in him for being so determined. 

For quite a while, you were a loyal fan of MARTE and was ecstatic to hear when they were voted as a new hit in 2018, sales beginning to rise in the market for the clothes that Seonghwa designed. 

"May I ask you something?" 

"Of course, Mr. Park." you nodded eagerly, straightening your back more to sit up better on the chair.

"Why MARTE? Hongjoong told me how much you loved our brand, and I would like to know why. As a buyer and as a designer."

You knew your eyes shined, hearing him call you a designer already. As the words passed your lips, you took in every single expression or change in his face to heart. To an eyebrow raise that wasn't even half a centimeter, to how he bit his lip to refrain a pleased smile to your reasoning. 

Stating every single reason you did and even complimenting the recent winter collection, you could tell you made the right choices. And it only became better when you finished speaking. 

"If you'd like for me to be honest, when I found out that my previous assistant designer was trying to steal my ideas, I was utterly taken aback, and I got a bit too excited when Hongjoong told me about you. The second he sent me the things you've sent him before, I could tell how much you wanted to design."

You let out a sigh of relief, not bearing to hide your smile at his words. Despite only being two years older than you, Seonghwa carried his appeal that not many people did. Different, only five years into the mainstream culture, he was larger than life without having to create a strange persona. 

You absolutely loved it.

"Not to mention, I think you have just the right eye and taste for our upcoming collaboration with Burberry for the spring-summer, ready-to-wear collection." 

Your ears perked, hearing what he just said. Besides MARTE, Burberry never failed to be a brand that you loved. You often stuck with the neat, preppy, academia-like clothing whenever you came to work. And Burberry had never failed to be a brand that caught eyes without being harsh to relish. 

"MARTE's collaborating with Burberry?" he nodded at your question, "And you want me to be apart of the designing?"

Seonghwa nodded again. He watched as your jaw hung ajar, one of your hands coming to your face to cover your mouth, your fingers pressed against your lips. He couldn't help but look at you as a deer, the beauty you carried quite interesting, like you were caught in headlights from the statement. 

"This time, we'll be making a women's collection. And based on how you dress," he motioned towards your outfit, "Your personal taste in fashion and designs would fit perfectly with this project. You'll start working in about a week. Too soon?"

"No, not at all. I can manage my time." although you were bluffing a bit, you were in no place to reject the offer. Well, you were, but you felt that this was the right choice. 

"Of course, I don't want you to drop your whole life in Japan immediately. But I do advise you to tell your boss now for your leave within two months-"

Seonghwa then noticed the slight widening of your eyes, suddenly wavering his hands around in worry, "Oh. Oh no, is that too fast for you? If it's too fast-"

"No, no. It's completely okay, Mr. Park. It's the perfect amount of time. But does that mean that I'll be working double?" you guessed, knowing how long the process it was to design, approve, and actually make the clothing.

Let alone with MARTE, they use custom fabrics with the factory group they work with back in Italy. 

"If that is alright with you. I can inform him on your behalf," you watched as Seonghwa flashed you a rather cheeky smile, "After all, I will be your new boss." 

He's so cool, you thought to yourself, And quite cute. 

Wait. What? 

You mentally shook yourself to reality, acting as if you thought of nothing, agreeing, "I think he'd take the blow much better if you were there. And he knows how much I love MARTE. I have asked my coworkers numerous times if they've seen a new piece of yours or your runways... it's almost embarrassing."

"I'm honored that somebody as ambitious and aspiring as you enjoys my work," Seonghwa spoke, once in a while, adverting eye contact with you to stare at the table or his own hands incase you could read that he found you beautiful. 

"I have another question." he quirked his head to the side, nonverbally telling you to continue, "Won't this be complicated for you? I doubt that you would find it efficient for us to design clothes together through video calls all the time."

"That's why I'll be here in Tokyo for two months," once again, his lips curving upwards as he beamed to you, "For you. And once the two months are up, we’ll fly together to Milan. All your shipping expenses for moving will be covered by the company.” 

"Mr. Park, isn't this too much?" 

Your body naturally moved forward, like how your eyebrows furrowed in worry. Although Seonghwa seemed rather severe and calm about the whole thing, you felt like you weren't worthy of all this. 

After years of schooling, work, and self misery for not getting your dream job, your pity party finally ended. Your happiness reached an eventual limit of how content you could be. Yet, there you were, questioning the designer's actions of the brand you adored, who acknowledged you. 

What was there not to accept? 

"Listen, Y/N. Your portfolio was more than textbook excellence, not to mention the way you organized it. But ever since Hongjoong trusted your taste and skill enough to pridefully show you off to me, knowing how picky he is, not that I'm all that, it was like an immediate hire without you knowing."

You couldn’t help but smile at his comment about Hongjoong. They do seem as close as Joong said, you thought. Briefly reminiscing how Hongjoong had once asked you why you admired such a person (after Seonghwa pissed him off for something very unrelated to fashion). 

Although you sounded like a broken record at this point, how could you not thank him? He was treating you as if you were his only option when you knew that there were more than a handful of people who wanted and could get your position. But if the Park Seonghwa thought you were enough, you were not going to trade this for anything. 

"I really hope you know how grateful I am." an idea suddenly coming up in your head, "Do you have anything to do after this, Mr. Park?"

"No. No, I don't. Why do you ask?" Seonghwa felt his mind go places but decided to shake it off with a tight-lipped smile. 

Seonghwa couldn't seem to get his mind out of the gutter when he looked at you, and he didn't want that to be the reason he was hiring you, or else guilt would eat him up. But that was the thing, he didn't want you to be his assistant designer because he found you absolutely stunning, but it was because you were incredibly talented.

Could she get any better? He asked himself. 

"I know a really great place for Katsu." you offered, "Take it as a small 'thank you' for believing in me."

She got better. He thought. 

"That would actually be great!" he masked his excitement the best he could, "And it would be great to get to know you more, Y/N."

You stood up, taking your hand out once again, just like you did during your introduction. 

"Mr. Park, Sir, I will look forward to being your new assistant designer."

"Please," he spoke, taking your hand like before. Leaning a little closer to you, "Call me Seonghwa. We're only two years apart." 

But he didn't mind at all when the word 'Sir' spilled past your lips like a mantra. This is already hard enough, he thought to himself. 

"Didn't think you were the type to walk, Sir- Seonghwa." you corrected yourself, respecting his wishes.

You assumed he hated it, clueless to the real intention on why he didn't want you to call him Mr. Park, or 'Sir.' Maybe it made him feel aged, maybe he just didn't enjoy it. You confirmed on your own that it was probably because you were only a little younger than him.

Although it was a little uncomfortable to call him by his first name, walking alone, just the two of you, under the fluorescent lights of Tokyo's nightlife, you found it relatively refreshing that he was so casual. Used to working with people much older than you, or not really but having a superiority complex, this was a breather to you.

If only you really knew the reason why. 

"Why's that, Y/N?" his hands being held behind his back like he was observing you. He was, but not for some employee test. 

"Although I think everybody has seen those paparazzi pictures of you, most of the time, I'm used to seeing you on video coming out of these sleek black cars with Joong. You know, all cool."

You stopped walking when you realized that Seonghwa was no longer following you. His hair slightly covered his eyes when he clicked his tongue, clenching his jaw with a smile when he realized what you were referencing. 

Last March, he was attending an after-party for Paris Fashion Week, to which he didn't feel like going all too much but was convinced by his model and designer friends alike. Somewhere along the time, somebody had spilled a drink on his clothes. 

Being cold enough, one of his models, who he was quite close with, decided to help him out. Although it was public knowledge, the model was a lesbian, having come with her girlfriend with the same occupation. The bathroom was filled to the brim, and they had to go to the back of the venue for a clearing.

Of course, the paparazzi had to take the images of him shirtless out of context with her holding his top. She offered to let him take the oversized jacket she had worn as an alternative. 

Being taken out of proportion, especially the only dating rumors Seonghwa had ever gotten was his relationship with Hongjoong, Seonghwa had to do an article with Harper's Bazaar about the situation. 

After clarified, his friend posted a picture of her with her girlfriend. Below it, a shady caption towards the paparazzi practically confirmed even more than Seonghwa was just cold. 

"I genuinely hate those people. They don't know what privacy is, and they did not understand that their speculations were false." you laughed at his frustration, "You know, they stayed outside my house and studio for a month, trying to see if I was lying. The model was a lesbian, for god's sake!" 

"Okay, okay." you chuckled, "Must suck a lot." 

"If I'll be honest with you, that might happen to you once I announce that I've hired you as my new assistant designer."

In the moment, all the talking had subconsciously led you both up the elevator and to the Katsu place you suggested. 

Taking a seat by the large window clouding over the colourful Tokyo, it seemed like one of the nights you would sit on your balcony, legs dangling as you hooked your arms around the barrier to support you. 

But this time, you weren't so alone. 

The two of you held endless conversations and spent so much time together as if it was as easy as spending money on a shopping spree. It seemed that the two of you were two missing puzzle pieces that now we're found, fitting precisely in the center of it all. 

You never knew, but you were surprised to find out that Seonghwa had become friends with Hongjoong from a mutual friend who was a model, Song Mingi. And similar to that, Hongjoong was that mutual friend for you to Seonghwa. 

His longing gaze never left his face whenever you spoke. It seemed that Seonghwa couldn't find anything to hate about you. To which he tried very hard. 

He was surprised himself that he could even concentrate when you took off your coat, seeing a little more of our figure than before. He swallowed the lump in his throat, drinking a few more glasses of green tea than he usually did, making you worry when he burned his tongue at one point. Or two.

His eyes often traveled to your lips, where you occasionally licked before continuing to speak. And when he was speaking in turn, you tucked your bottom lip in between your teeth, concentrating on his every word. 

Every now and then, he also had to stop looking at your hands. His nails grazed through his hair to hide the slight stress your mere presence was causing him, let alone your small mannerisms that weren't supposed to be sexual. 

He didn't want to imagine your hands around his cock. He didn't want to imagine your lips sucking on his tongue. He didn't want to imagine his hands laced into your hair as he pulled you against his body to fuck you harder. 

Opposite to how you were in awe of him for entirely different reasons. 

He also got to know more about you, why you wanted to get into fashion, how your parents supported you despite their small worry and doubt for your success, and how much you truly did respect his work and him. 

It was almost like a date. 

Especially with how he continued to ask if he could hold your bag that contained the heavy portfolio. Especially with the countless times that the man had offered to take you home, not aware that with every step you took after dinner, it was a step closer to your train station. For the last time, you decided to decline a bit more sprightly than before. 

"I think I would like to freak out alone on the MRT. You know, I've been keeping my cool for a few hours." you honestly said, "But thank you for walking me to the train station."

"I didn't even realize you were walking to the train station," he was impressed by how much he could distract you from reality already, "But I'm glad to assure you that my future right-hand woman is safe."

You smiled at him one last time, bowing 45 degrees down as a final gesture of gratitude for the night. Taking the folder out of your bag, you finally handed it to him, since he was supposed to keep it. You felt his fingers graze against yours, both of you trying to ignore the electricity coursing through your veins.

Quietly, you knew that Seonghwa would stay until he couldn't see you; you scanned your card and walked into the station. Your hands clutched the handles of your bag, squeezing it tight out of excitement. 

You didn't look back, afraid that you might not want the night to end.

His eyes never ripped away from you, looking down at the folder you had given him. He looked at the name label that you stuck on the top right corner, liking how you wrote your name in both English & Japanese as if that little detail was to impress him a little more. 

Soon, you were no longer seen. 

Only then did Seonghwa then realize when he watched you walk away, your figure growing smaller with each tread, that he had no idea where he was. Having been to Tokyo quite a lot, he somehow never figured the city out. 

But he had no regrets. Finally, he wasn't going to be alone at designing with somebody his textile designer trusted as well. Despite his feet playing 'the floor is lava' from the number of times he was pacing, scrolling through his contacts for his hired driver, he wouldn't have done this any different. It was for you, after all. 

You, a practical stranger turned employee turned object of attraction. 

I must be losing my mind, he thought. Hating how he was thinking of not only how sweet you were but how sweet your perfume was too.