pairing: owner!seonghwa x ???
c/w: fluff, mentions of sex I guess, not proofread
a/n: WE ARE SO BACK WE ARE SO BACK WE ARE SO BACK WE ARE SO BACK!
The day Seonghwa sends y/n to Jongho's, it's because he has a date.
It's not unusual for him to go on dates, but considering how the last who knows how many dates have gone, he took a long break to build up his mental health again.
So naturally, after such a long time, he was nervous. Nervous not only because of that, but because the woman he was meeting today was beautiful.
There was a look in her eyes that he saw in all of her pictures that melted his bones, his stomach, his everything. When he found out she'd swiped right on him, he did not waste even a second in messaging her to ask her out, and to his delight, she seemed just as enthusiastic, saying that she would have asked him out if he didn't.
Now he was waiting in the restaurant, fidgeting with his clothes as he waited for her.
He was going to be upfront this time. San and Y/n were permanent fixture in his life, and considering how beautiful and perfect this woman already seemed to be, he didn't want to fool her or himself for even a moment if she wasn't accepting of his relationship with y/n.
But God. God, he hoped she was.
The moment he saw her, his heart exploded out of his chest. The way she walked was confident, and her smile was easy as Seonghwa stood up to greet her.
First he shook her hand, but when that felt too formal, she easily allowed him to pull her into a friendly hug.
"H-hi," he said, his nervousness charming her. "Hi, it's nice to finally meet you," she replied, her voice sounding sultry when Seonghwa was sure that wasn't even her intention.
He took her jacket, draping it on the back of the chair, and pulled the seat out for her, pushing it in as she sat.
"I want to be honest with you right off the bat," Seonghwa said, biting his lip.
His date raised her brow in a sexy way that made him hold back a groan. God, she was so hot.
"I told you I have two hybrids," Seonghwa said, fiddling with his fingers, and she nodded, "Yes."
"I want to be clear that I'm not in a relationship with either of them," he said and she tilted her head with an amused smile, "Okay."
"But my female hybrid, y/n," he breathed out, "And I'm telling you this now and not before because I really really like you and I wanted to see you at least once in person before you ghost me or decide that you might not want to be withme, so-"
"Seonghwa," her soothing voice cut through his rant as she reached over to grab his hand. His heart beat wildly in his chest as she looked at him reassuringly.
"I really really like you, too, okay?" she asked and he took a deep breath again, "So just tell me. I doubt it will be a deal-breaker, but I won't ghost you or decide arbitrarily that I don't want to be with you. I think you're a good person so far, got it?"
"If you don't want to be with me, I'd still like you stay so we can be friends and I'll still pay for your meal," he finished his spiel quietly and she chuckled, nodding.
"Y/n and I also have a physical relationship," he said honestly, and her brows raised. "She is someone who basically needs sexual intimacy to feel loved and show love, and I don't even think she really has a concept of romantic love, so I can tell you with my full honesty that it's not that kind of relationship, but... I do have an intimate relationship with her."
She tilted her head before a wide smile broke out on her face, her thumb stroking Seonghwa's thumb.
"I'm happy that you consider her needs in the way she needs them," she responded, "And that you cherish her enough to prioritize that when picking partners."
"It doesn't disgust you?" he asked, and she shook her head.
"Not even a little bit," she replied, "And if it's okay, I have a confession, too."
"Anything," he breathed, "If you can accept y/n, then you can say anything right now."
"You know I also have a hybrid," she said, now seeming nervous herself.
"Yes?" he asked slowly. "Yeosang is... he really tries, but he's not very good at interacting with other hybrids. He's had a harsh past, so he doesn't really enjoy going to heat hotels either because it reminds him of those times... so... I'm also there for him in that way."
She waited for Seonghwa to explode. Yes, he'd basically just admitted to the same thing, but she thought he might have double standards. However, her anxiety was quelled when he let out a breath of relief.
"Really?" "Yes." "That's all?" "You're not mad?" "Why would I be mad when I just admitted to the same thing??"
"I don't know!" she exclaimed, embarrassed, "Maybe you'd think it was different because I'm a girl and Yeosang is male!"
"I don't," he said firmly, though the smile on his face was kind and disarming, "It's actually a relief to hear that. You don't have a romantic relationship with him, right?"
"No, not at all," she said, shaking her head, "He's, at most, a friends with benefits and, at least, a roommate. He's not even my pet, really."
"Yeah, San is kind of like that, too," Seonghwa chuckled, "I'm glad... I'm glad, that's it. I'm happy."
"Me, too," she said, glowing, and Seonghwa could already tell that she was special.
pairings: mingi x idol!reader
genre: fluff, one-shot
a/n: I just wanted to post something so this is what I wrote like when I first started the blog, and I thought I'd write more, but I kind of like it the way it is!
You can only stare at Mingi, who's currently air drumming with pencils and engrossed in his own world, and wonder how this happened.
You honestly thought he didn't like you when you first met, and despite his assurances, you are still not convinced that he did. The cold stare he gave you when you'd knocked on the Ateez's dressing room door to give them your group's album had chilled your bones and you almost cried as you introduced your group. Thankfully, Hongjoong had come out to witness the introduction and thankfully accepted our album. (Mingi once begged Hongjoong to give it to him once you'd started dating, but Hongjoong refused).
From that moment you actually kind of feared him. You'd get nervous when he walked by, and if he noticed, he'd look at you weird. You couldn't hate him, not when he was visually exactly your type, but damn if you'd ever be caught in a room alone with him. You hadn't watched any Ateez content aside from the occasional music video or promo playing on a TV in a cafe, so you didn't know his personality outside of the cool and intense person he was when he was performing.
The day that image of him shattered was when you were in the MBC building, having just come out of the bathroom. Ateez was in the room right beside and Mingi was just coming out, the tone his voice high and scratching as he was complaining about Yunho not coming with him to do something. "COME WITH ME!" He screamed (similar to the way he yelled at Yunho for betraying him in that one show where they put flowers in each other's lockers).
He then turned his head, making eye contact with you, the weird idol girl he'd see around. He saw you stifled a laugh and immediately cover your mouth in shock before he went right back inside, slamming the door shut behind him.
When you saw him later, he avoided eye contact to an obvious degree, prompting Yunho to look in the direction he was avoiding, laughing animatedly and smacking his arm repeatedly when he saw you. You had been so embarassed that you avoided Ateez for a long time.
But for some reason, now that you had seen him to one embarassing thing, it seemed to happen all the time. You had literally witnessed him tripping over his feet as he passed you, his weird laugh when Jongho had said something while you were at the table next to him. You even watched him goofily do Hongjoong's hip movement from Crazy Form from the sidelines during showcase prerecordings as your group was up next.
Your personal favorite was when he was in the middle of a gutteral and goofy roar inside of his waiting room, facing the door as Yeosang was going inside. You'd just happened to turn your head in that direction, making eye-contact with through the crack in the door before that roar turned into a screech that was cut off by the door closing behind his fellow member.
The worst part was that every single time these things would happen, he'd somehow accidentally make eye-contact with you and freeze. You'd run away every time. He had to have hated you now that you kept seeing him in embarrassing moments. You figured you'd never talk to him for the foreseeable future.
"You have to take responsibility for me."
You looked at him dumbfounded when he'd approached you after you'd seen him miss the draw six times in a row when attempting to drink from a water bottle. "Huh?"
"Y/n, you've seen me in too many vulnerable positions and my honor is at stake. I don't think I'll ever be at peace knowing that a hot girl has seen me look like a bumbling idiot and she wasn't even my girlfriend."
"WHAT!?" "PLEASE, I'M EMBARRASSING MYSELF ENOUGH IN FRONT OF YOU. PLEASE GO ON A DATE WITH ME."
Mingi got scared as you laughed out loud at the memory.
"What?! What happened?"
"Nothing," you giggled, "I was just thinking about the time you first asked me out."
"Oh my god," he groaned, "Do not even speak to me."
"You know I thought you seriously hated me, babe."
"I did," Mingi admitted bluntly, and your mouth fell open. "Excuse me?!"
"There's a seriously thin line between love and hate, baby. I always thought you were hot and I hate hot people for no reason, they just make me angry. Then you saw me acting stupid with Yunho and I was so mad that this annoyingly beautiful woman saw me at my worst-"
"Your worst-?"
"But then I started paying attention to you and I was trying and failing to look cool in front of you but you never really made fun of me... you were always laughing and it was really cute and asked you out because I panicked."
"There is seriously something wrong with you."
"I know," Mingi sighed, "I am just crazy... for you."
Summary: No sex until marriage was a decision solely for self-preservation, and all of your friends were on the same page... until they weren't. Now instead of your fantasies being your only exposure, your friends are making it much more real, and it has you rethinking your relationship with San.
pairing: non-idol!San x f!reader
c/w: a very very vulnerable conversation about sex; the word "violent" is mentioned, but there is no violence
w/c: 3.3k
a/n: This one is for the virgins out there. keep doing what you're doing as long as it is what you wanna do, even if you feel pathetic sometimes LOL
You were a prude. You could admit it without shame, very staunch in your decision not to have sex or anything adjacent until after marriage. It turned a lot of guys away, but for the better part, the guys who were actually worth it ended up staying.
When you met San, he fell for your frankness, your honesty. You fell for the way he showed love. You'd like to attribute the dynamic as the "he fell first, she fell harder" trope but there was never a moment that San made you feel like you loved him more than he loved you.
Especially considering that with that physique, he looked like he was built for sex. You almost felt bad for depraving him of it, but he reassured you that what he wanted more than anything was a deep emotional connection, and he was more than fulfilled by the relationship he had with you.
The only problem, though. Your friends who were also once prudes, suddenly stopped being prudes.
You should have expected it, they were a lot more adventurous than you, despite never caving in to temptation for so many years, but with the right guy and at the right time, they went for it. Some of them just got fucking married just to have sex with their partners because they were almost if not just as prudish as you.
No, you were definitely more prudish. With San at your beck and call, you wouldn't think that any of your friends would have lasted, married or not.
But now that they were having sex, you were the last one of the bunch that was still a virgin, and you kind of hated it.
You weren't a prude so much in the mindset sense as much as you were a prude in the sense of safety and security. You didn't want to be used for your body and left afterward. Not that you expected San to do that, of course, but the same way you would be basically giving yourself to someone by having sex with them, you wanted your partner to give themselves to you wholly, and since San wasn't a no-sex-before-marriage guy, as most guys were, you felt like taking that willing step to be obligated to you would make up for what you'd be giving to him.
It was complicated, but it was sincere. Your body was important to you, and the thought of not knowing whether or not you could be disposable was a genuine and consistent fear. It was different for guys, and while you could very well just do the same thing guys did, trivialize sex and your virginity in order to remove its power over you, you just didn't want to.
And for San that was okay. You'd had a long talk about it before you'd even started dating, wanting to be completely up front about expectations. Before that conversation, he'd known you as a prude, not in a derogatory sense, but he didn't expect you to be so forward with that kind of conversation without being in a relationship with him first.
Of course, you wouldn't have even considered having that conversation if you weren't seriously considering being with him for the rest of your life, but maybe he was surprised because he'd felt differently. Not about you, but about dating and marriage in general up until that conversation.
Now, you were confident that you were on the same page, and San knew better than to think you were so uncomplex as to just be called a prude.
But... because you had nothing in your own experience to talk about, all your friends thought you were actually a prude.
Truth was that you loved sex. It's always the least expected who are the freakiest or something, right? But it was embarrassing to talk about your theoretical knowledge when your friends were talking about their practical knowledge.
You were quiet as you listened to them talk about all the different positions their partners would put them in. "Did you know that my leg could go behind my head? Me neither!" "Oh my gosh, I scratched the hell out of him, and I felt so bad, but he said that he liked it!" "I couldn't walk the next day. I thought that shit was a myth!"
It was pretty... vanilla? Basic? It was basic stuff, and you'd imagined doing far more nefarious things with San in the comfort of your own bedroom and sometimes in the shower, but hearing your friends' real experiences... the emotional intimacy of it all, freaky or not... the fact that it was real made you sweat a little.
You imagined it with San, your nails raking over his shoulders, your leg being pushed to the limit behind your head as he...
Oh gosh.
You almost left the sleepover early, but you couldn't since it was so rare for all your girls to be together at once like this, but that didn't mean San didn't get an earful from you when they all finally went to bed.
Holy shit, all they were talking about was sex and I had nothing to contribute.
That seems right. Lol
I know this is self-inflicted, but damn. I went 20 something years without desiring it, but now that I'm the only one not in the club, it's kind of lonely out here.
You are cute. I could always help you join the club. I have a membership.
Haha, very funny.
I know you're actually laughing.
I am.
You were giggling at your phone when your friend looked at you dazedly, seeing your smiling face illuminated by your phone in the dark.
"You know, you are pretty smitten for someone who doesn't have sex," Your friend, unmarried, said to you sleepily.
You turned to look at her. "I think that's exactly why I'm smitten," you mumbled, putting your phone down and scooting closer to face her.
Without the light, you could just hear her tired hum and the sound of her breathing.
"I dunno, you seem like you got dumbified once or twice," she chuckled, and you scoffed out a laugh, trying not to be loud. "Where the hell did you learn that word?"
"You, stupid," she chuckled, "Why don't you just go for it? You see your future with San, right? Why not just give in?"
You didn't answer. It was for all the reasons you told San you didn't want to have sex in the first place, but... those were all worries that you had before him. You weren't worried for a second that San would leave you, he'd made sure of it.
"I don't know," You murmured, "I just- I don't know."
"Think about it," she said thoughtfully, "You know I was like you, but things change."
I don't. You wanted to grumble. You were annoyingly consistent to the disappointment of many men. As in love as you were, you'd never once compromised your morals for anyone.
And, yes, the way you felt with San surpassed the way you felt with anyone before, but was that enough?
You were in San's bed as he was playing a video game as the thought plagued your mind again. He didn't play often, but since you were so busy thinking, you didn't mind not having your mind read by him for a moment. Once he looked at you deep in thought, you knew he'd say something. He was very observant when it came to you.
"I enjoy watching the things I love," he'd said softly to you one day, his voice low as if trying to seduce you, knowing full well that it wouldn't escalate to anything.
He was good at that. He was good at allowing you to feel sensual intimacy without engaging in anything physical.
"You enjoy watching?" you asked him, your voice breathless, "What does that do for you?"
"I memorize every movement," he said, leaning closer, his lips a hair's breath away from yours, "every reaction."
"But why," you insisted, and there was a glint in his eyes as he said, "I'm studying."
For what? You'd wanted to ask, but he'd kissed you before you could. It was probably better that way. Despite the endless conversations about boundaries and consent that you'd had with him, you liked it better when these feelings were left unspoken. Something you didn't need to say, something just understood.
You didn't actually need to ask him what he was studying for. You weren't stupid.
It made you giddy to think about. Almost too giddy. Your body tingled with warmth underneath his covers as you giggled at the thought.
San's ears perked at the sound, not used to you acting "girly" so to say. You were usually pretty stoic, loving attention from him while you pretended he didn't exist. It excited him whenever he saw the slightest twitch of your lips at something funny he said, or the way your fingers twitched when you wanted something from him.
But giggling to yourself wasn't a habit you usually gave him the privilege of seeing. You weren't nonchalant by any means, but you definitely didn't emote much when you thought no one was looking.
He immediately turned to look at you and you covered your face fully when you met his eyes. He couldn't help but grin. You were too cute.
"What is my jagiya doing over there?" he asked, and in your giddiness, you couldn't help but let out another uncharacteristic giggle. San's eyebrows shot up in pleasant surprise as he leaned over your covered form, arms trapping you in place on the bed.
You attempted to roll away, but San simply laid down on top of you, his body pressing you into the mattress through the blanket.
You screeched playfully and he laughed as he wrapped his arms and legs around you like a body pillow as if it was just that and not his girlfriend in the mess of fabric he was clinging to.
You could feel him snuggle his face into the blanket above your head, and you couldn't help but wiggle, making him let up for a moment so you could pull the blanket down a little to be face to face with him.
He looked down at you with such admiration it made you want to cry.
This was the perfect man.
"What are you thinking about, yeobo?" he asked, his voice like a comforting hum.
"Nefarious things," you whispered like a gremlin and he laughed, his head thrown back, genuinely not expecting you to say that.
"Take this off," he complained lightheartedly, trying to pull the blanket out of your grip, you held strong, though you knew for certain he wasn't putting his full strength into taking it from you. Eventually, he gave up and collapsed on his back on the bed, next to you.
Satisfied with the outcome of your game of tug-of-war, you threw the blanket off of you to assume a similar starfish position to his, your head barely not touching his.
"Do I have to mentally prepared for whatever you're about to say to me," he asked, and you laughed again, "I don't know."
"Tell me what you're thinking about."
You were blunt. "All my friends are having sex."
He coughed, sitting up quickly as you continued to stare at the ceiling.
"Okay," he sputtered, "I'm happy for them?"
"We had this conversation like two days ago," you huffed.
"Yeah, over text," he grumbled, "Hearing your voice say the word sex always gives me shell shock."
You couldn't help but smirk in amusement when you looked at him, "What?" Your tone was that of intrigued disbelief.
"You usually talk about it so clinically, when your tone is relaxed and you talk about sex, my body doesn't know how to react," he groaned, falling now face first against the bed.
"Aww," you cooed, "Does it make you excited?"
"Yeah, a little," he grumbled, "Anyway, continue. Why are you thinking about your friends having sex."
"Ew, don't say it like that," you groaned, slapping his shoulder, and he laughed against the sheets.
"I don't feel left out of the club," you started, referring to the conversation you had the other day, then turned your head to look at him shyly, "but I guess I do feel a little behind."
"Behind?" he asked, brows furrowed as he got up to sit on his hands and knees, face above yours, "What are you talking about?"
"I dunno," you hummed, "I wanted to contribute something, anything, but it's a step that I haven't taken yet when I know very well that I could just..."
You looked him dead in the eyes as you murmured, "...ask."
"Yes," he agreed, "You could just ask and I'd be on my knees for you," he said, and you smiled pulling his shirt. He let you maneuver him to other side of you, laying down to face you.
"I am very well aware," you whispered, pulling his shirt so that you could press your lips to his. He grinned into the kiss as he intimately peppered chaste kisses on your lips. He eventually shifted to hover over you, his kisses deepening with the position.
You let out a content sigh, and he pulled away to look you in the eyes and put his hand on your face. His thumb stroked your cheek in a tender way that would usually make you squirm, but you decided that receiving his affection gratefully was more important than cringing away from him due to your inability to handle the erratic beating of your heart at the gesture.
"Are you seriously thinking about that?" he asked, "Having sex?"
"Don't act like you don't know I'm always thinking about it," you huffed with an annoyed but cute pout, making him kiss your bottom lip again.
You stretched underneath him, your arms reaching above your head as you continued, "But I guess hearing real stories instead of indulging in my imagination made me think differently."
"Is that so?" he chuckled.
"Yes," You said honestly. "Can I tell you something that I haven't told you before?"
"Like, a secret?" he asked, sitting up on his knees. You sat up with him, shaking your head, your hair cascading around your face in a way that had San's heart swooning.
"More like a fear?" you asked softly.
His brows furrowed in concern, taking your hand in both of his and massaging your palm with his fingers.
"Of course you can," He said, "What's going on?"
"Nothing, nothing," You reassured him, "I'm fine. But I guess..."
You let out a sigh, scooting closer to him. "I know I talk about sex a lot with you," you murmured, pressing your head against his heart, letting him wrap his arms around you. "I think I spoke about it so clinically because it allowed me to remove it from the emotions that can be associated with it, one of them being fear."
"Mm-hmm," He hummed for you to continue.
"The idea of it is so enticing," you admitted, "the ideal version of what it should be... but in practice, I've always felt that it was so inherently violent."
"Do you think I would be violent with you?" he asked and he felt you shake your head again against his chest.
"I think that's the only reason I'm starting to consider it more seriously," you murmured, "Regardless of consent, it's still a violation, a breach of my body. I think I've always been scared of feeling like that was the case in actual practice."
He squeezed you a little tighter. "Especially since I've never been with anyone, but you have... I don't hold that against you, but..."
"I understand," he reassured you, "It's different for you."
"In a morbid way, it's like... imagine if getting stabbed was a pleasurable experience," you said, and he couldn't help his chest from rumbling a bit in humor, "I'd still be the one getting stabbed, you know?"
"I see," he said, nodding his head. "And that's not even mentioning that sex, despite it being a pleasurable experience, can still hurt!" you whined, chin on his chest as you looked up at him.
"Y/n," he said softly, "I'd be abstinent for the rest of my life if that was what you wanted."
You smiled at him, "I know."
"So you don't have to be afraid," he said, running his fingers through the hair along your scalp, soothing you.
"It wasn't a real fear... just... something underneath the surface," You reassured him, "A fear that I knew would leave me with time or experience."
"But you'd have faced that fear alone if you hadn't told me," he murmured empathetically, "If I found out later, I don't think I'd take it well, knowing that you'd gone through that alone, even when I was right there."
You let yourself bask in his love and gentle words for a moment. You loved this man.
"I don't think you have to worry about it that much, anymore," you told him, "I don't think I'm afraid anymore..."
"And why the sudden change of heart?"
"If my friends, who were once like me, could open their hearts and allow the person they love inside... why can't I do that with you when I know that no one could ever love another person as much as I love you."
San's heart swelled at your words. "Y/n-" "I don't think I've ever felt safer with anyone else in my life, Sannie."
"You're going to make me cry," he murmured, turning his face for a moment and bringing his fingers to his eyes.
"Nooo, don't cry," you chuckled, reaching up to pull his face towards you. His teary eyes pulled at your heart and made your stomach swoop in a dangerous way.
"So, ultimately," you admitted, "I felt behind because I was so scared of sex that I didn't consider that the act would be with you."
He pulled away for a moment to playfully squint his eyes at you in suspicion.
"Then who's in your fantasies??" You barked out a laugh. "I was objectifying you in my fantasies. You were basically just a meat stick."
"Ah-" he cut off his own noise of understanding to make a face at you that you laughed at.
After your laughter calmed down he moved to sit back in his bed, looking at you seriously. "So, what is your new conclusion, then? What is changing or what do you want me to take from this?"
You were quite for a moment.
"We are going to get married."
If San had been in a relationship this long with any other girl, he'd have choked at the suddenness, but with you, he was not even slightly swayed. It was the expectation from the beginning that he was only more and more sure of as time passed.
"Yes," he confirmed, and you nodded your head affirmatively.
"Then... I don't see why that door has to be closed anymore," you said honestly, "So... if it ever happens that we are in that position... and we want to go further... I'd like to explore that with you."
San searched your eyes for any sign of doubt or unsureness but found none, and a smile broke out onto his face.
"That sounds good to me," he said, his arms outstretched for you to fall into them. You snuggled into his neck, leaning up to kiss the dimples in his cheeks.
"Wait-," San suddenly said, "Does that mean after we do it, you're going to go and tell all your friends?"
You pretended to think for a moment, "No." San stared at you, clearly not believing you before you grinned. "I'm going to go and brag to all my friends."
San's lips pursed, putting his hand on your face again, his thumb touching your bottom lip, "I like that."
"I thought you might," you hummed, satisfied.
-------------------------------------------
Taglist: @ad0rechuu @spooo00oky @jaerisdiction @soso59love-blog @potatos-on-clouds @intartaruginha @hwasa28 @stacey-stonem @skersey33 @altxrr-ego @sunnyhokyu @sunnysidesins @that1sadgrl
hihi!! i’d like to suggest some mingi or hongjoong fluff where the reader is a music producer please :) thank youuu
✶ CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT
PAIRING: Mingi x Music producer!reader
CONTAINS: Fluff
SUMMARY: You and Mingi have kept your relationship a secret, with the studio being the only place you can truly be together. After ATEEZ wins song of the year, he finally reveals your relationship to the world.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you for this request ! I actually loved this idea and had a lot of fun writing this hehe hope you love it !
MASTERLIST
The ATEEZ members loved calling you their secret weapon. You were the main music producer behind many of their successful songs, you kept constantly moving between recording studios, vocal booths, and mixing rooms. It wasn’t uncommon for you to spend long nights at KQ.
However, most KQ staff didn’t realize that someone always seemed to arrive at the studio shortly after you did, it was Mingi. Slowly, it became a routine for the two of you, the studio would become your little secret. Not because nobody knew where you were, but it was the only place where Mingi could love you without having to hide behind stolen glances.
Once the studio door clicked shut and everyone else had gone home, Mingi would roll his chair beside yours. “You know,” he'd mumble while resting his chin on your shoulder as you worked. “I came here to write.”
“Mhm? You responded without taking your eyes off the screen.
“But then you looked too pretty.”
You giggled, shaking your head, hearing the cheesy line from him, “You flirt too much.”
“You blush too easily,” he leaned back, grinning.
That caught your attention. You turned to look at him. “I do not.”
He tilted his head just enough to catch your burning cheeks. “Sure.”
“Don’t you need to finish the verse you were writing?” you sighed before looking back at the monitor, trying to finish the first chorus of the song.
“Can’t I at least listen to the first few seconds?” He pouted. “I need some inspiration.”
You let out a dramatic sigh, “Fine, only a few seconds.” You handed him your headphones, letting him listen to ATEEZ’s upcoming song. You watched as he nodded along to the beat.
The moment the final note faded, Mingi looked at you instead of the monitor. “What?” You scrunched your brows. “Is it bad?”
“I don’t know.” He took off the headphones.
“Mingi!” You huffed, crossing your arms.
“I just like looking at you,” he admitted with a smug smile.
You were in disbelief. “You are unbelievably distracting.” You took the headphones from his hand to put them back on.
“And yet,” he smiled, “you’ve still produced another hit.”
You shoved his shoulder, earning a laugh that echoed around the studio.
Some nights were quieter. You’d still be editing vocals long after midnight while Mingi stretched out on the couch watching you with sleepy eyes. “You’ve been staring for ten minutes,” you noticed his reflection on the monitor.
“I know,” he yawned. “I missed you.”
You looked back at him, “We literally saw each other this morning.”
“That was in front of everyone!” He said, before walking over behind your chair, wrapping both arms loosely around your shoulders. “This is different,” his voice was softer now.
“How is this different?” you looked up at him.
He pouted, “I couldn’t kiss you all day.” he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before leaning in. “Let me make up for it now.”
Before his lips pressed on yours, you placed a finger against his chest, “What if someone sees us?”
He glanced at the locked studio door before looking back at you with a mischievous smile, “They won’t.” He redted his forehead against yours, your lips only a few inches away. “So.. can I?” he tilted his head.
Instead of answering, you leaned forward first. It was a quick kiss, yet it was gentle. When you pulled away, Mingi frowned dramatically, “That’s it?”
“Someone could walk in right now.”
“Babe, the door is literally locked,” he pouted.
“But Hongjoong has a spare key! What if he caught us? What if he tells the world that–” Your rambling was cut short by his lips pressed to yours. This time, it lingered a little longer.
Both of you pulled away breathlessly. “You’ve become clingy.” You rested your chin on his chest while looking up at him.
“I’ve always been clingy,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as his hand gently stroked your hair.
Award season arrived sooner than either of you expected. ATEEZ had been nominated for song of the year with a few tracks the two of you had poured months of restless nights into creating. You were backstage, with the other staff and the production team, watching the award through the TV.
Your heart pounded as the presenter opened the envelope. “And the award for song of the year goes to…”
There was a brief pause, and then. “...ATEEZ!”
The arena exploded into cheers. The members embraced each other before making their way towards the stage. You and the rest of the crew were in disbelief and erupted into applause, congratulating each other for their hard work.
The members finally reached the stage, Hongjoong thanked ATINY, the staff, the company, and everyone who had believed in the album before handing Mingi the microphone. He looked down at the trophy for a moment. “I’ve thanked the members countless times,” he began, “but there’s someone I don’t think gets enough credit.”
The audience suddenly went quiet.
“To the love of my life…”
A wave of surprised gasps rippled through the arena.
“...thank you for always staying by my side every late night in the studio… every song we made…you always reminded me why I started making music in the first place.”
His smile grew impossibly gentle, “I hope one day I can thank you properly without hiding anymore.”
The crowd erupted. The rest of the members looked at each other with wide eyes before Wooyoung broke into a knowing grin, nudging Mingi.
The second the cameras stopped rolling and the members disappeared backstage, the hallway exploded into chaos. You quietly slipped away, figuring he’d be occupied for a while.
“Where is she?”
You heard a familiar voice as you turned around. You noticed Mingi stood at the other end of the hallway, the trophy tucked under one arm, looking over the crowd. Then his eyes landed on you, “There you are.”
Without another word, he ran to you. Staff instinctively stepped aside as he hurried straight toward you. The moment he reached you, his arms circled your waist and pulled you into a hug so tight you almost laughed. “Congratulations, babe.” You pulled away for a second.
“We did it,” he whispered, slightly out of breath.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, “You finally got song of the year!”
He shook his head immediately, “No, we got song of the year.”
“Mingi-”
“I’m serious,” he leaned back just enough to look at you. “None of those late nights would’ve happened without you.”
Your expression softened, brushing a stray strand of hair off his forehead, “I’m still proud of you.”
He smiled before pulling you back into a hug, “I want everyone to know you’re mine.” He whispered into your ear.
“What?”
His grip on your waist tightened. “I just can't bear the idea of anyone else touching you, of anyone thinking they still have a chance because they don’t know about us.”
Somehow, it felt like the hallways disappeared, it was just the two of you. Before you could respond, Wooyoung’s voice echoed through the hallway, “There he is!”
“I knew it,” Yunho laughed so hard he had to lean against San.
“I told you he’d find her before he found us.” Hongjoong folded his arms with an amused smile.
Mingi only scratched the back of his neck, completely unbothered, “I had somewhere important to be.”
You felt your cheeks warm, “Well, I should get going, congratulations again everyone!” You said before pressing a quick kiss on Mingi’s cheek. You waved goodbye to the others as you walked away.
“Can you two be disgusting after the photos?” Wooyoung groaned dramatically. Mingi chuckled in response, “Shut up.”
No matter how loud the world can be, whenever you’re with him, in the studio or anywhere else, it always feels like home.
In a way, you knew it was never going to work out.
Maybe you were simply naive. Optimistic, if you want to look at your current situation through a lighter lense. You could also say you were simply in love. Whatever hypothesis you tried to create, the outcome would always be the same: it didn't work out.
Mingi and you, that is. And idol and a normal person, as normal as it can get. Two people with a sea in between, different timezones and completely opposite lives. The only thing you had in common was how fast your heart beat whenever you managed to call each other. Besides the dearing affection and lovesick smile, nothing else connected the both of you.
You swear you tried to make that count. He did too, and you know it very well. Maybe love could overcome everything in the end.
Maybe it really can.
It just won't, not in your lives.
The love never faltered but the routine did. The phone stopped ringing and missing each other became a continuous truth rather than motivation. The gap became so big that no bridge was able to connect the both of you anymore.
You were still proud of him whenever you saw an ad with his face, it's just that you couldn't share his victories with him anymore. He still thought of you whenever he saw your favourite things, it's just that it wasn't possible for him to hear you talk about it for endless hours anymore.
It wasn't about will. It wasn't about love. It's just that, sometimes, you have to face things how they are instead of how you wished they were. Sometimes, you just lose.
Masterlist | you'll probably like: all this time
Daily click
Reminder this is just fiction!! I'm not trying to portray real life and you shouldn't believe that this is how the members actually are. This is just for the vibe and the delulu!
Summary
"I am looking at you," he choked out, a ragged exhale brushing over your lips, tasting faintly of winter and desperation. "That’s the goddamn problem. It’s all I ever do."
The confession hung in the air, thick and uncertain, like a match held over a trail of gasoline. His eyes dropped down to your mouth, tracking the slight parting of your lips with a raw hunger that made your knees turn to liquid.
"Seonghwa," you whispered his name, a soft, deliberate plea that shattered the last of his restraint. You didn't wait for him to cross the line.
You dragged him over it.
A/N
At last, I finally mustered the energy to finish this one lmao. I've never written anything this long, so I hope I didn't bore you too much in the first 9k words xd
service top!park seonghwa, whiny!park seonghwa, dom/sub undertones, seonghwa is whipped for the reader, yearning, angst?, forced proximity, minor woosan, possessive!park seonghwa
The tires of the SUV had been spinning uselessly in the deep snow for about twenty minutes before the engine let out one final, desperate, and exhausted grunt—completely dying and leaving you, your manager, your brooding bodyguard, and your driver stranded at the edge of a long forgotten logging road.
This entire trip had been your childhood friend-turned-manager's brilliant idea; a remote cabin rented specifically for your upcoming movie shoot under the insistence that isolating you a whole week early would perfectly immerse you in the script’s atmospheric mindset.
At the time, Wooyoung had treated it like the greatest breakthrough of his career.
Knowing Wooyoung, it clearly wasn’t.
So when the car had come to a halt, a mixture of sighs and groans filling the tense air, it had become glaringly obvious that your dear manager had forgotten to check the weather forecast for today.
A low groan in your throat had turned Wooyoung around from where he was sitting in the passenger seat, giving you a weak, apologetic smile while insisting that you should look on the bright side of this predicament. The bright side—or the silver lining, as he had called it—being that the cabin was only a mere 15-minute walk from where they had stopped.
Wooyoung had even insisted that trudging through the blinding, wet terrain would put you right into the headspace of your character. The first five minutes he had stood by that statement, rambling on about how he had given you an advantage in the bad luck you were having.
He went quiet the second you had to practically fight through the freezing wind during the remaining ten minutes, and you couldn’t help but internally curse at your friend. ‘Silver lining my ass,’ you thought.
Turns out, stepping inside the cabin hadn’t been of much help either.
The air was painfully cold and brittle, a bit better than the winds outside, but the lack of heat was still there. Every breath filled your lungs like shattered glass, harsh and unpleasant, and by the looks of the other three, they felt the same.
You pulled your arms tight against your chest, shivering violently as you watched your breath flower into a thick white mist, mixing with the other men’s as Wooyoung stepped forward, grabbing a small clipboard containing a note that sat idly on top of a dusty wooden table.
Wooyoung sighed as he read the note. ”Great." He rolled his eyes in annoyance, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. "The main generator is completely shot."
The heavy wooden table groaned slightly as he tossed the clipboard back onto the dusty surface. "We're stuck here until the blizzard clears. At least until tomorrow morning," he continued, the raw exhaustion of the storm openly bleeding through his voice as he looked away from the three of you, like he was embarrassed for being the cause of this.
The room fell silent except for the faint sounds of the storm shaking the structure of the cabin, turning even louder, almost like it was provoking the four of you—waiting for either of you to break.
But San, your driver, stepped up directly besides Wooyoung, knuckles lightly brushing against the shorter man's tense shoulder in a subtle, practiced movement like it was meant to ground him.
"We have dry wood for the fireplace, and the roof is solid," San said softly, his voice cutting through the chill as he offered Wooyoung a small, comforting smile, making his eyes crinkle and those familiar dimples appear on his cheeks. "We'll be fine, Woo."
A silent look passed between the two men, a quiet, almost intimate understanding that didn’t require spoken words. It made a genuine smile tug at your frozen lips, like a necessary pocket of warmth contrasting the freezing chaos of the cabin as it wrapped around a familiar ache spreading across your chest.
It was a warmth you so desperately craved but was so far out of reach. A heavy stab of shame suddenly tightened your chest, recollecting the nights you had spent with Wooyoung without the limitations of him being your manager. How achingly much he had needed that comfort too. It cut you deep to remember how hard you had worked him over the last few years, inadvertently denying him the very tenderness he needed and deserved.
So when San had been hired as your driver, it hadn’t been difficult to notice the lingering stares or the unnecessary, yet careful and deliberate, touches exchanged between them. You had seen the way Wooyoung’s posture, rigid from the sheer exhaustion after a grueling day of press junkets and relentless award shows, entirely dissolve the moment San stepped within arm’s reach.
Back during your first major career breakthrough, when the paparazzi were at their absolute worst and the media felt suffocating, watching them had filled you with an almost bittersweet fondness. Though they never spoke about the relationship they so desperately tried to hide, their quiet bond had always managed to keep you grounded. A silent anchor that allowed you to dare dream of one day sharing that same fierce, protective closeness with someone of your own.
But—like every fragile comfort on this trip—the brief moment of warmth and hope quickly evaporated the second a heavy, familiar shadow fell over your shoulders.
Seonghwa stepped fully into the main room, marching towards the heavy wooden door protecting you from the outside winds to lock it with a deliberate click of the deadbolt. He finally turned around on his heels, facing the three of you huddled together from the cold. He pulled off his thick tactical gloves, the dark leather creaking loudly in the quiet hum of the cabin as his dark, unyielding eyes immediately locked onto yours.
Not Wooyoung.
Not San.
His entire universe instantly narrowed down the second his gaze found yours, routinely scanning your face for any signs of distress, measuring the distance between your body and the door with his usual terrifying calculated precision. You couldn’t help but freeze under the intense gaze, instantly trapped by the same suffocating tension that has stretched between you for two long years. A heavy, unspoken weight that always made the air feel a bit too thick to swallow, seeping through the cold air.
You weren’t unfamiliar with that look. Seonghwa had always looked at you like that. Like he wanted to scold you for being too careless. Like he wanted to lock you away where the rest of the world wouldn’t dare to touch you, to hurt you—where the sheer, suffocating intensity of his gaze never stopped the terrifying, irrational thought that all he saw, and all he ever cared to see, was you.
“The perimeter is secure,” Seonghwa murmured, his voice a low, firm tone that vibrated right through the old floorboards before settling deep in your chest. “But the temperature is dropping. Fast”
A choked breath escaped you when he finally diverted his gaze from yours. “Maybe someone so careless shouldn’t have been in charge of our stay,” Seonghwa continued, his cold and expressionless facade never faltering—save for the silent daggers he threw at Wooyoung through his eyes.
Wooyoung scoffed, glaring right back. “There is a fireplace, Mr. I-Love-Complaining," Wooyoung snapped, gesturing aggressively toward the large fireplace across the room. "We just have to keep warm,” he sighed. “And I don't think the owners can get here anyway, given the state of things out there."
Outside, the snow was beating furiously against the structure, the faint, haunting howls of the wind echoing down the chimney.
“Fuck, it’s cold," you shivered through chattering teeth, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself, shoulders hunching instinctively as another violent shudder rattled your frame.
San frowned with immediate, protective concern. "Here," he said softly, his hand already moving to the zipper of his own heavy winter jacket. "Take mine. I have a thick thermal underneath anyway, I'll be fine—"
"No."
The word cut through the room like a blade hitting ice. Sharp. Flat.
Seonghwa stepped forward before San could even pull his arms out of his sleeves, his taller frame effectively blocking the dim, flickering light of the lantern on top of the table. It cast a long, intimidating shadow right over your body as he physically inserted himself into the space between you and San, a dominant, almost territorial movement that instantly made the air in the room turn stagnant and suffocatingly heavy. Your breath hitched.
“She wears mine,” Seonghwa asserted, his fingers already unbuttoning his coat with efficient, practiced movements.
Your brows knitted together in a slight furrow, a sharp flash of irritation shooting through your spine. “I think San’s jacket will work just fine, too.”
Seonghwa clenched his jaw. “Just do as I say.”
“San has been my driver longer than you’ve been my bodyguard, Seonghwa,” you scoffed. “I don’t need your permission to take his jacket—”
“It isn’t about permission,” he snapped before stepping closer. The radiating heat of his body hit your face like a physical wall in the freezing room, holding out his coat while his eyes kept locked onto yours with an uncomfortable and exposing intensity. “It’s about safety. Protocol.”
"Protocol?" You let out a sharp, mocking breath, chest heaving under your layers. "He’s my friend. You're being ridiculous. You've been doing this for two years—treating every single person who breathes near me like an enemy aching to strike. It's exhausting."
Seonghwa didn’t blink. His jaw tightened, clenching as he stared down at you, gaze pinning you to the floorboards. He lowered his head slightly, his voice dropping into a private murmur meant strictly for your ears.
"Sometimes the people closest to you can hurt you the most. And my job is to eliminate all risks.” He shoved the coat against your chest. “Wear the coat."
There was a lingering weight behind his words. Like an unspoken history or a deep-seated paranoia that you couldn’t quite decipher, leaving a ringing silence in its wake where a now uncomfortable, awkward friction settled over the room.
You could see Wooyoung shift his weight from one foot to the other through the corner of your eyes, his own eyes darting between you and your bodyguard with a mixture of confusion and growing annoyance. San stood quietly beside him, slowly zipping his own jacket back up in defeat, his expression carefully guarded.
You knew this was a losing battle—it always was—and even though you loathed how much your body was craving warmth ever since the car had decided to give up, you aggressively snatched the coat from his hands. But from the aggressiveness of it, your fingers accidentally brushed against Seonghwa’s bare wrist where his dress shirt had ridden up from taking off his coat. The sudden warmth sent an electric jolt straight up your arm, breath hitching in your throat as the two of you stilled.
Not wanting to address the funny feeling pooling low in your stomach, you threw the heavy material over your shoulders, instantly engulfing you. It smelled entirely, intoxicatingly of him. A heavy blend of the raging storm outside—crisp pine and a grounding musk mixed with a hint of vanilla and coffee—making your head spin with every shuddering inhale.
Wooyoung cleared his throat loudly, the sound forced and awkward. "Right." His eyes lingered on the two of you before continuing, "We need a concrete plan to stay warm. The temperature is going to keep dropping, and I'd prefer we don't freeze to death before the first day of shooting."
“There should be spare blankets,” Seonghwa replied, his voice returning to that same detached, professional cadence as he turned towards Wooyoung.
Yet, his head remained subtly angled in your direction, his eyes never truly releasing you. "It is an Airbnb in the middle of winter, after all. The owners wouldn't leave a property completely unequipped for a freeze."
The manager sighed. "Great. I'll check the upstairs closets with San." He ran a hand through his hair before gesturing for the driver to follow him toward the creaking wooden staircase. "Let's pray there's something better than dusty sheets up there. Come on, Sannie.”
Wooyoung’s gaze lingered softly on you for a moment before his lips smoothed into a straight line, offering you a comforting nod. It was the same unspoken gesture he always gave you in the midst of chaos. A silent promise to let you know he was only ever a heartbeat away.
As their heavy footsteps faded up the stairs, the sound of their quiet murmuring was swallowed by the cabin and the storm raging outside, leaving the main room in a tense, ringing silence.
You stayed glued to your spot by the fireplace, fingers buried deep in the oversized pockets of Seonghwa's coat. A soft hum escaped your lips as you pulled the high, stiff collar tighter around your neck—partially to block out the biting draft, but mostly to hide the deep shade of red that had so suddenly flushed your cheeks.
Seonghwa stood perfectly still across the room, eyes lingering momentarily on you before going back to whatever it was he was doing. It didn’t keep his focus for long, though. His attention kept flicking back to you, his gaze tracing the subtle yet rapid rise and fall of your chest through the dim glow of the lantern. A lump formed deep in your throat, warmth spreading across every part of your body the coat surrounded.
His expression was one you had seen a thousand times over the last two years. An unreadable mask that you had never quite been able to figure out. It was a look that usually kept you on your toes. It made you defensive. Guarded. And a bit annoyed, if you were completely honest.
But tonight, with the evidence of the day's regrettable events simmering in the air like a thick fog, that familiar weight felt tenfold more intense. Like there was a dangerous, volatile sharpness to the way he was watching you.
You felt your breath hitch, noises of the storm slowly fading out as the thud of your hammering heart was the only thing you could hear the second his eyes slowly dropped to your lips. Something in his eyes shifted, his tongue darting out to lick the seam of his bottom lip before his gaze locked back onto your own.
He held an expression thick with words left unsaid, so heavy and demanding it knocked the air straight out of your lungs. You felt exposed. Naked. Like he could see right through you.
You tried to brush it off, unconvincingly claiming it to be a mere security assessment and definitely not what felt like an interrogation. But you couldn't help the heart beating violently against your ribs, desperately trying to understand why...
Why a man who claimed to just be doing his job was looking at you like you were the only thing left in the world. Like a cherished treasure.
The thudding footsteps of Wooyoung and San returning from upstairs broke the suffocating silence, each carrying a meager stack of stiff, faded blankets. A slow, heavy exhale left your lips at the sight of your friend, your previous rigid and clenched posture melting away.
“This is the best we could find,” Wooyoung grumbled, dropping a couple of the rough blankets onto the sofa placed in front of the unlit fireplace. He frowned, like he had expected you to at least prepare a fire while the two of them were upstairs.
A rattle caught his attention, the frown melting into a sigh as he headed straight for the far corner of the room, where a draft was visibly rattling the frosted windowpane. “The glass is a bit loose here. We should block the gap before starting the fire.”
San was already moving with him, pulling a roll of heavy-duty duct tape from his backpack. Ignoring the confusion as to why he kept a roll of duct tape in his backpack, you took it as your cue to move, desperate to shake off the paralyzing awareness of Seonghwa's eyes.
“I'll prepare the fire, then. Until you're done,” you offered, your voice sounding slightly tighter than usual as you stepped towards a small pile of split logs near the fireplace.
You bent down, but before your fingers could even wrap around the rough bark, a large shadow eclipsed you.
Seonghwa was already there, sweeping in so silently it caught the breath deep in your throat. His large hand clamped onto the piece of wood you were reaching for, knuckles brushing firmly against yours.
A familiar heat coiled in your abdomen before you pulled your hand back from the accidental scrape of his skin against yours, as if you had been burned, your pulse spiking.
“I got it,” Seonghwa murmured. Tone flat and professional, contrasting the flare of his eyes from the sharp intensity as he looked down at you. He used his body to subtly nudge you away from the hearth. “The wood is splintered. You'll cut your hands. Stand back.”
You huffed at that. “I am perfectly capable of carrying a log,” you snapped under your breath, a prickly wave of irritation rising to mask the sudden, erratic fluttering in your chest.
You stepped around him, determined to prove a point, and reached for a smaller piece of kindling. Again, he moved. His chest subtly blocking your path, his shoulder passing so close to yours that the fabric of his shirt brushed against your clothed arm.
He reached past you, his larger arm completely separating you from the woodpile. “You'll get hurt. I'll handle it. Your job is to stay warm.”
You let out a sharp, frustrated breath, retreating a few steps. It was infuriating.
For two years it had been like this. Two years of this constant, suffocating hovering. This maddening insistence on treating you like something precious. Something fragile. You told yourself you hated it. You told yourself his overprotectiveness was a nuisance, a textbook example of a stubborn bodyguard taking his contract way too seriously.
But as you stood there, wrapped in the heavy warmth of his coat, a traitorous and confusing ache settled deep in your stomach. You didn't want to admit how much his total, unwavering focus made your heart hum.
You dragged your attention across the room, desperate to find any leverage to anchor yourself from the flutter in your chest as your gaze settled on the two men working on the window. Wooyoung was shivering, his shoulders hunched as he held a piece of cardboard against the draft while San tore off a strip of tape to secure it.
Blissfully unaware of the lingering eyes, San took Wooyoung's reddened hands into his own, lifting them to his lips. He breathed a steady stream of warm air over Wooyoung's knuckles, his eyes fixed on the smaller man with an unhurried tenderness.
Wooyoung's entire posture melted. A soft, private smile spread across his face as he leaned his forehead briefly against San's shoulder, puffs of white mist escaping his lips from what you could only assume were giggles.
A bittersweet ache twisted in your chest as you watched them. A hollow yearning that caught you completely off guard. It was a beautiful, quiet kind of intimacy. A safe harbor where two people simply trusted each other.
You found yourself staring, completely captivated by the effortless softness of it, wondering—just for a fleeting second—what it would feel like to have someone look at you with that kind of raw devotion.
You glanced away, blinking rapidly like it could hide the emotions bubbling behind your eyes. You swallowed past a dry throat before you stopped dead in your tracks. Seonghwa.
He hadn't been looking at the woodpile.
He had been watching you.
He had caught the exact moment your chest hitched. Caught the bordering envious look you cast at the two men by the window, his eyes tracking the heavy rise and fall of your chest.
The silence between you stretched, charged with an unsaid understanding. He knew exactly what you were looking at, and the rigid set of his jaw told you he was burning with an unreadable frustration of his own.
Desperate to break the suffocating spell, you turned on your heel, looking for any excuse to escape his vicinity.
“I'll look for a better lantern,” you announced, your voice trembling slightly.
You spotted a tall, heavy wooden shelving unit tucked into the shadows at the back of the cabin. On the very top shelf, three thick, vintage brass lanterns sat coated in dust, alongside a folded tartan blanket.
You strode over to it, ignoring the way Seonghwa's boots immediately shifted on the creaking floorboards behind you.
The shelf was tall, towering over your head, and the old wood let out a brittle, ominous creak as you stepped up on your tiptoes. You stretched your arms up, tongue darting out in concentration as your fingers just barely brushed the cold brass of one of the lanterns.
“Don't,” Seonghwa's voice barked from across the room, sharp and sudden. “It's unstable.”
Your brows furrowed. “I can reach it,” you persisted, fueled by a reckless need to defy him. To prove that you didn't need his protection or that stupid protocol. You leaned more of your weight forward, straining your fingers just an inch further.
You miscalculated.
The moment your hand gripped the heavy brass, the rotten wooden supports of the shelf violently splintered. A sickening crack echoed through the cabin as the unit gave way under the shifting weight, the top shelf tilting forward. The heavy brass lanterns and a cascade of solid wooden beams came hurtling straight down towards your face.
Your breath hitched. You couldn't scream. Couldn't move. All you could do was stare up at the falling mass in pure terror.
A sudden force hit you from the side. A solid, unstoppable wall of heat and muscle slammed into your torso as Seonghwa had lunged across the space with terrifying speed.
His large arms instantly wrapped around your waist, crushing you against his chest as he threw his entire body over yours, twisting midair to shield you.
The impact was brutal. You were slammed hard into the wooden floorboards, your breath violently knocked out of your lungs in a sharp gasp. But you couldn't feel the hard wood. Or the pain.
You could only feel him.
Seonghwa took the entire force of the crash, his large frame acting as a human shield against the wooden shelf and brass lanterns coming crashing down, splintering violently against his shoulders and down on the floor around you.
A deafening silence followed the crash, save for the howling wind outside and the frantic shouting of Wooyoung and San scrambling across the room. But you couldn't hear them.
Your mind flooded with thoughts as you were pinned flat against the floor, completely trapped beneath the crushing weight of Seonghwa's chest.
He didn't let go.
His grip was bruising, his large hands clutching at your waist and burying into the fabric of the coat with a frantic desperation—like he was still trying to pull you deeper into his safety.
You looked up, your vision spinning, and found his face a mere inch from yours. He was trembling, his chest heaving frantically against yours as he gasped for air, breath hot and ragged against your face. The usual stone-cold facade had shattered into dust, eyes completely blown out with terror.
“Are you hurt?” he choked out, his voice a wrecked, breathless whisper, completely stripped of its usual composure.
“I-I'm fine,” you stammered, voice barely audible.
He let out a shuddering, broken exhale as his forehead dropped down to press briefly against your shoulder, right against the collar of his own coat. His jaw brushed innocently against the sensitive skin of your ear, sending an almost dizzying shiver straight down your spine.
He was breathing you in like a drowning man, his heart hammering so violently against your chest that you couldn't tell where his pulse ended and yours began.
As you laid there, pinned by his heat, the pieces you had fiercely been ignoring for two long years suddenly began to misalign and click into a terrifying new shape. This wasn't just a bodyguard doing his job. A man doesn't look this broken, this terrified, this utterly undone by a routine safety hazard.
And as your fingers instinctively tightened against the fabric of his shirt, a suffocating realization began to bleed between the lines of your panic.
You didn't hate his hovering. You never did. You've been yearning for this exact, crushing weight, completely starved for the overwhelming intensity of his touch.
For one more antagonizing fraction of a second, Seonghwa remained entirely frozen on top of you before a sudden clarity seemed to hit—as if he had just realized exactly how much he let slip. How entirely unhinged his panic must have looked to the room.
Almost instantly, the vulnerability vanished, masked by a sudden, terrifying flash of fury.
He pulled away like your skin had burned him, his jaw locked into a rigid, defensive line as he pushed himself up off the floor. The usual facade slammed back down, twisted into something far harsher, an unreasonable biting anger meant to bury what he had just exposed.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he snapped, his voice dropping into a harsh, venomous hiss as he glared down at you from his full height. “I told you it was unstable. Are you completely incapable of following a simple order? Your recklessness could have gotten you crushed!”
You blinked up at him from the floor, completely stunned by the whiplash of his sudden fury, your heart still hammering against your ribs. “I‐I was just trying to get the lanterns—”
“I don't care what you were trying to do,” he cut you off. His tone was icy. Unreasonable. Defensive. “You don't touch anything in a structurally compromised environment. You stay where I can see you, and you let me do my job. Is that concept too difficult for you to grasp?”
“Hey! Back off, dude!” Wooyoung's voice broke through as he kicked a splintered wood aside, stepping forcefully between you and Seonghwa to help you get on your feet, his eyes wide with defensive anger. “Chill the fuck out. She just wanted to help.”
San stepped up right behind Wooyoung, his hand resting firmly on your manager's arm to keep him from escalating. His eyes remained fixed on Seonghwa with a quiet, observant intensity. “She's fine, Seonghwa. We're all fine. The shelf was old, it was just an accident.”
Seonghwa's eyes stayed rigidly fixed on the floorboards next to you, his expression cold and unreadable. Yet, despite the familiar wall he was trying so hard to build back up, there was something so glaringly obvious unraveling the man.
The subtle, uncontrollable tremor in his fingers. The rigid, unnatural stiffness of his shoulders. The way he refused to look you in the eye—it all betrayed him. The mask was cracked, and no matter how much he barked about safety or protocol, you could see the desperate yet panicked energy humming right underneath his skin.
Without another word, Seonghwa turned on his heel and marched towards the dark kitchen, his heavy boots echoing like a rhythmic countdown in the quiet room.
— ☆
As the storm raged on outside, the cabin shifted back into its usual awkwardness. The hours bled together in a slow, suffocating crawl, with each of you retreating to your own corners to do your respective tasks. San had managed to scavenge a pair of small, battery-driven lanterns from one of the upstairs closets, placing them on the mantle and surfaces scattered across the main room.
The space was much better lit now, casting a steady, white glow over the room that felt almost too exposing, illuminating every tense line of the cabin.
Wooyoung and San had quietly finished securing the draft window, their whispered conversations acting as a low hum against the howling wind. You remained curled on the sofa, still engulfed in the dizzying smell of Seonghwa's coat.
You tried to read the script pages in your lap, but the words blurred into meaningless shapes. Every time you closed your eyes, you felt the weight of Seonghwa's chest against yours. The desperate pressure of his fingers through your clothes and the terrifying wall he had rebuilt the second he realized his control had unwillingly slipped.
Across the room, Seonghwa stood like a statue near the kitchen threshold, his arms crossed, silently tracking the perimeter—tracking you—leaving a trail of heavy silence hanging between you that grew more suffocating with every passing hour.
Before the midnight silence completely took over, there was a brief, fragile pocket of normalcy.
The old kitchen stove was a traditional gas model, requiring no electricity to function. And Wooyoung—desperate to soothe his frayed nerves after the shelf incident—managed to heat up a pot of milk, turning it into a rich, steaming hot chocolate that the three of you drank while huddled on the couch and on the floorboards directly in front of the fireplace.
With the heavy storm howling outside, you finally had a moment to truly take in the layout of the cabin without the immediate panic of the crash clouding your mind. The space was fairly big, built from heavy, exposed pine logs that had blackened with age. A steep, creaking wooden staircase cut straight up the center of the main room, leading up to a narrow loft landing where two small bedrooms sat side by side.
Across the room, entirely excluded from your small circle of warmth, Seonghwa sat in a wooden chair near the dark kitchen entryway, next to the stairs. He hadn't touched the mug. He hadn't moved an inch to rest. His large frame completely still as he did his duty.
Wooyoung set his empty mug down, yawning heavily as he glanced from you to the dark figure in the corner.
"San and I will take the two bedrooms on the top floor," Wooyoung said, his voice dripping with a lazy, sarcastic edge as he deliberately poked fun at your bodyguard’s rigid posture. "That way, our resident shadow can stay down here and be in perfect reach if a rogue snowflake tries to attack the front door. You should probably head up to bed soon, too."
You snorted at the comment and offered a tired, faint smile, swirling the last of the dark liquid in your mug. "I need some time to collect my thoughts. Besides, it would be incredibly rude of me not to finish your delicious hot chocolate."
Wooyoung huffed a laugh, fond but exhausted, before standing up. He and San made their way up the creaking stairs, their shadows stretching long against the timber walls under the stark white glow of the battery-driven lanterns. You stayed glued on the couch, listening to the heavy wood groan under their weight.
There were two separate bedrooms up there. Yet, in the quiet structure of the house, you only heard a single wooden door click open, followed by the faint, muffled sound of quiet giggles before the latch snapped shut.
A genuine, soft smile tugged at your lips. It was so painfully obvious. A sweet secret that made your chest ache with a sudden envy.
"They are incredibly obvious," a low, gravelly baritone cut through the silence, making you jump. "It almost makes me sick."
You turned your head sharply. Seonghwa had stepped out of the shadows and was crossing the small hallway leading to the two rooms, hovering just a few feet next to the fireplace in front of you.
There was a rare, faint chuckle catching in the back of his throat—am unpracticed sound that completely caught you off guard. He was actually making fun of them, a tiny, human glimpse of amusement cracking through his armor.
The sudden vulnerability frustrated you, the lingering adrenaline from the afternoon twisting into a sharp, defensive knot in your throat.
You turned your entire body to face him, your eyes narrowing. "Just because you are entirely incapable of feeling human emotions or expressing them does not mean their affection is disgusting, Seonghwa."
Seonghwa froze.
The small, rare trace of amusement instantly vanished from his face, his dark eyes widening slightly as he stared down at you, completely appalled and caught off guard by the sudden bitterness of your snap.
The silence between you stretched, the air turning thick enough to swallow.
"Incapable?" he repeated, the word leaving his lips like a dangerous warning. He stepped forward, jaw tightening so hard a muscle jumped in his cheek. "You think I don't feel anything?"
"Yes," you challenged, carefully putting down the mug before crossing your arms and getting up to take a deliberate step towards him. "Because you don't. You just stand there like a statue, watching me, judging me, and then you shut down. If you actually have a single human emotion inside you, say it. Because I am tired of guessing."
He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, and for the first time in two years, his unyielding gaze faltered. He looked away from you, staring at the wooden floorboards, his hands clenching into tight fists at his sides.
You could see the exact moment the internal battle took hold of him—his shoulders were rigid, his chest heaving under the tight dress shirt as he took a long, ragged breath. He wanted to snap back. Wanted to retreat into the shadows, but he was trapped.
"I can't," he choked out, strangled rasp you barely recognized.
"What do you mean you can't?" you demanded, taking another step closer, daringly shrinking the space between you. "It's a simple question, Seonghwa. Why do you treat me like this?"
"Because it isn't fair!" he suddenly snapped, his head whipping back up. His eyes were blown out, swimming with a desperation that made your breath catch.
He took a half-step backward, trying to create distance between your bodies, but the wall pinned you both in the narrow circle of light.
"It isn’t fair to you, and it damn sure isn't fair to me.” He took a deep breath. “If I say it—if I let myself even think it—everything falls apart. Do you understand me? Our lives, my job, everything we’ve built for two years. It ruins all of it."
You blinked, completely stunned, mind scrambling to make sense of the gnawing panic in his voice. "What are you talking about? What ruins it?"
"Don't push me," he whispered, a desperate edge bleeding into his tone as his fingers trembled against his thighs. "Please. Just—go. Go to bed."
"No," you said, your voice remarkably steady despite the chaotic hammering of your heart. You refused to back down now.
You closed the remaining distance, stepping directly into his personal space until your chest was practically brushing his.
You looked up into his face, eyes boring into his. "I'm not going anywhere until you explain what the fuck you mean, Seonghwa. Look at me. Why are you so terrified of me?"
"I'm not terrified of you," he breathed, his breath hot and ragged against you. The proximity felt intoxicating.
He looked completely undone, his rigid professional armor cracking and splintering right before your eyes under the pressure of your stubbornness. "I'm terrified of what I’ll do if I stop fighting."
"Then stop fighting," you whispered.
A broken sound—halfway between a scoff and a groan—caught in the back of his throat. He closed his eyes tightly for a single second, his head shaking as if he were trying to clear madness out of his brain.
"My entire life, I’ve been trained to lock it away," he whispered, his voice dropping into a wrecked confession, the words practically dragged out of him against his will. "I was told that I felt too much. That my emotions made me a liability, a danger. I spent years forcing myself to become cold, to become a machine so I wouldn't ruin everything. I thought I was good at it."
He opened his eyes, not moving away this time. He leaned down slightly, his face a mere inch from yours, his unwavering focus pinning you to the floor.
"But with you, I can't," he admitted, a faint curse slipping past his lips as the final walls of his restraint violently crumbled. "No matter how many protocols I follow, no matter how hard I try to focus on the goddamn perimeter, you are always there. Just existing. Pulling me out of the dark and giving me a taste of what it actually feels like to feel again. It’s driving me completely crazy. I look at you, and I forget everything I need to be."
He reached out, his large, trembling hand hovering just shy of your jaw—like he was desperate to cup your cheek but paralyzed by the final, terrifying realization of what he was doing.
"I am your bodyguard, for fuck's sake," he gasped. "I am supposed to protect you. I am not supposed to look at you and want to take advantage of the fact that you are entirely mine to guard. I am not supposed to look at your lips and want to devour you until there's nothing left."
You looked up into the dark depths of his eyes, and the final piece of the puzzle violently locked into place inside your chest. It wasn’t just him. It had never been just him.
"Then stop looking at me like a contract," your voice cut through the quiet hum of the room, your heart a thudding pulse against your ribs. You lifted your chin, refusing to let him retreat into the shadows of his own mind. "Stop hiding behind the protocol, Seonghwa. Look at me. Just ...look at me."
"I am looking at you," he choked out, a ragged exhale brushing over your lips, tasting faintly of winter and desperation. "That’s the goddamn problem. It’s all I ever do."
The confession hung in the air, thick and uncertain, like a match held over a trail of gasoline. His eyes dropped down to your mouth, tracking the slight parting of your lips with a raw hunger that made your knees turn to liquid.
"Seonghwa," you whispered his name, a soft, deliberate plea that shattered the last of his restraint. You didn't wait for him to cross the line.
You dragged him over it.
You reached up, your hand closing firmly over his bare, burning wrist, pulling his hand that last agonizing distance until his palm finally met your cheek.
A jagged spike of heat shot straight up your arm, and a needy groan was violently ripped from the back of Seonghwa's throat at the sensation of your skin against his. His fingers instantly flexed, his grip firm yet careful as his large hand framed your soft skin, his thumb pressing hard into your cheekbone.
And then he lurched forward. Soft lips crashed onto yours, hungry, frantic, and completely starved. His lips were hot and demanding, bruising yours as he devoured the heat of your mouth with a breathless urgency
You let out a muffled gasp against his mouth, your hands instantly clawing upward to grip the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to bury yourself in his solid weight. He answered the movement by wrapping his other arm around your waist, lifting you nearly off your feet as he turned the two of you around, slamming your back against the very wall you had him cornered against.
The impact was sharp, and a gasp tore from your lips. Seonghwa’s tongue traced along the seam of your bottom lip, a faint moan escaping as you gave him access. He explored every crevice, every corner of your mouth, like he was memorizing it, tongue tangling with yours in a desperate, slippery rhythm that left you both gasping, your head spinning into absolute chaos.
The wet warmth of his mouth and the intoxicating scent of his musk completely flooded your senses until you couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t remember anything but the burning desire of his attention on you.
He groaned again, a deep sound that rumbled straight from his chest into yours, his hand sliding down to grip the back of your neck, fingers burying deep into your hair to tilt your head back, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat to his absolute mercy.
He broke the kiss for a fraction of a second as a trail of spit connected at your lips, both of you panting, completely consumed by each other's taste.
"You're going to ruin me," he whispered against your skin, his voice broken in defeat. "You know that, don't you? I'm completely ruined."
"Good," you breathed out, your fingers tightening in his hair, pulling him back down to your lips. "Ruin me too."
He found your mouth again, and the kiss instantly grew hungrier. Needier. Hotter. The friction of his lips against yours made your brain short-circuit, and all your skin was screaming for was the intolerable barrier of your clothes.
You needed him bare. You needed to feel the solid, burning expanse of his skin against yours.
Your hands left his hair, your fingers scrambling frantically for the buttons of his shirt, your movements uncoordinated and desperate. You managed to undo the first two, knuckles brushing the smooth skin of his collarbone.
Suddenly, his hands snapped around your wrists, pulling them away from his chest and instead pinning them against the wall on either side of your head.
He looked at you, panting, a look of fear clouding his features. Even now, he was fighting his own suffocating lust, terrified that tomorrow morning you'd wake up and look at him with regret.
"Are you completely sure?" he asked. His eyes frantically searched yours with a vulnerable intensity. "Look at me. Tell me to stop right now and I will step away. I swear to god I will walk out that door if this isn't what you want. We don't have to do this—don't do something you'll regret tomorrow. I can't take that from you. Please."
You stared up at him, your vision swimming with frustration. You looked at his tightened jaw and the dark, desperate pools of his eyes, and you decided you were entirely done with his hesitation.
"I need you, Seonghwa," you stated, your voice cutting through his panic, steady and laced with a demanding heat. You twisted your wrists in his grip, refusing to back down. "So if you don't shut up and fuck me within the next five minutes, I will personally throw you outside into the blizzard."
Seonghwa froze. For a fraction of a second, he just stared at you, completely taken aback, his lips parted in utter disbelief at the audacity of your threat.
Then, the rigid tension in his shoulders suddenly cracked. A low, rough chuckle broke from his chest—a sound so rich, surprised, and deeply fond it made your heart leap. The hesitation in his eyes quickly faltered, replaced instantly by a heavy wave lust.
"Five minutes?" he murmured, his voice dropping into a gravelly purr that sent a shiver straight to your core. His grip on your wrists tightened, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin of your pulse points as he leaned down, his mouth brushing against the shell of your ear. "You're getting impatient."
He released your wrists only to scoop his arms under your thighs, lifting you completely off the floorboards in one powerful, effortless motion. You let out a soft gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his thin waist as your hands flew to his shoulders for balance.
He carried you past the central staircase, stepping into the dark hallway where your two separate bedrooms sat. The ambient heat from the stones radiated through the shadows, warming the narrow corridor as he guided you straight into his room.
When he lowered you onto the bed, the mattress groaned softly beneath your combined weight, and for a split second, you expected him to climb over you, to pin you down with that same dominant force he had used out in the main room.
Your heart beat loudly against your ribs in anticipation, every nerve in your body screaming for the heavy, crushing weight of him. But the moment his coat slid off your shoulders, pooling onto the sheets beneath you, the dynamic shifted entirely.
Seonghwa didn't lean over you. Instead, he slowly sank directly to his knees between your legs, stepping down from his invisible throne to look up at you from below. The faint, bleeding light from the doorway caught the sharp angles of his face, casting his blown-out, glassy eyes in the subtle glow.
He was panting, his wide shoulders rising beneath his dress shirt, his large hands resting flat against the bed, trembling oh-so slightly. The big, dangerous bodyguard who had spent two years commanding your movements, guarding your perimeters, and treating the world like a threat had completely unraveled at your feet.
He looked up at you with an expression of pure reverence—a look so entirely stripped of pride and so broken by his own hunger that it laid his entire soul bare.
"Please," he whispered, the syllable a broken, needy whimper that caught in his throat. He didn't move to touch you yet, his hands staying glued to the mattress as he begged with his eyes. "Tell me what you want me to do. Tell me how to touch you. I'm yours. I'm completely yours."
You pulled him up.
There was no more room for distance, no more patience for the space between his knees and the mattress. Your fingers wrapped tightly around the collar of his half-unbuttoned shirt, and with a breathless tug, you pulled him up over you.
He didn’t resist, lunging forward with a desperate, guttural gasp as his lips crashed into yours.
The kiss was a messy, bruising collision of teeth and tongues, both of you fighting for air, fighting to get closer, clawing at each other's shoulders as if trying to tear through skin. Seonghwa made a high, strained, whimpering moan in the back of his throat, a helpless, whiny noise that betrayed just how undone his restraint finally was.
He broke the kiss, his hot breath against your wet lips as his hands moved down to the hem of your shirt. He could barely grip the fabric from the shakiness of his own fingers, a frustrating tremor that made him let out a weak, desperate groan.
"Let me," he gasped out, completely wrecked. "Please—fuck—l-let me see you. I need to see you."
You nodded, and with a slow, fond care that completely contrasted the chaotic hunger in his eyes, he began to slide the heavy layers of clothing off your body.
As the fabric parted, exposing your bare skin to the dim shadows of the room, Seonghwa completely stilled. He hovered over you, his palms resting on either side of your head, and he just stared.
His eyes traced the curve of your collarbone, the slope of your waist, and the gentle rise and fall of your chest with a desperate need. His gaze was heavy and consuming, treating the sight of your bare skin like a holy relic he had spent a lifetime searching for.
"You're gorgeous," he whispered, a ragged, breathless sob catching in his throat as a single tear welled in his eye. "God, you're so beautiful."
He sank down, completely losing his posture, his face burying straight into the crook of your neck, letting out a long, broken whine, inhaling so deeply against your skin that his chest expanded painfully against yours.
He was completely lost in your scent, the clean, intoxicating warmth of your skin mixed with the faint trace of the winter storm. He nuzzled frantically into your pulse point as his mouth left a trail of wet, desperate kisses down your throat.
"Every single day," he whimpered against your skin, his hands finally sliding down to cup your bare waist, his palms scalding against your flesh. His fingers flexed, digging into your hips with a bruising, desperate pressure. "Two years of standing behind you, smelling your hair, watching you smile at everyone else while I had to stand back. It took every single fiber of my goddamn being not to drag you into a dark room and crawl to your feet. I was dying. I’ve been dying for two years."
Another whimper escaped the man, his head moving lower, lips tracing the center of your chest, his tongue darting out to taste the salt of your skin. He pressed his face against your stomach and let out a choked, needy sound, completely surrendered his control to you, letting you feel the terrifying velocity of his heartbeat.
You tightened your fingers in his dark hair, the silky strands catching between your knuckles, and you pulled his face up from your stomach. Seonghwa followed the movement instantly, his neck tilting back with a gasp, his eyes glassy, unfocused, and dark with a heavy wave of lust.
"Look at me," you breathed out, your voice laced with a commanding heat that made a visible tremor ripple through his shoulders.
You pulled his head up just enough to guide him, shifting your weight as you spread your knees, exposing the deepest, most vulnerable parts of your body to the dim shadows of the mattress. "Need you, baby. Right here."
Seonghwa groaned at the thought; a wrecked whine tore from the back of his throat. He slid down the bed instantly, hands fumbling with the hem of your pants before removing everything in a smooth motion, hands now clamping onto your inner thighs with a desperate pressure that pinned you flat against the sheets.
His face dipped between your thighs in a content hum while his long, slender fingers separated your folds. A deep sigh escaped the man as his tongue finally tasted you. It was wide and heavy as it flattened against your clit—long, deep, devouring licks that instantly made your hips jerk off the mattress with a sharp, dizzy gasp, turning your brain into complete mush.
"Ah—Seonghwa, please," you cried out, your fingers burying into the bedsheets, toes curling as a familiar heat built in your lower belly.
A deep, vibrating groan rumbled straight out of him as he continued sucking at your clit, his lips creating a tight vacuum that stole the breath right from your lungs, his tongue darting out in sharp, rapid flicks that had you a complete mess beneath him.
You could hear the slick, desperate sounds of his mouth, the heavy slurring of his tongue. The wet, messy slaps of his lips against your skin and the constant, needy whimpers vibrating in his chest.
You looked down through the dark, your vision swimming, and your heart nearly stopped at the sight. Seonghwa was still fully clothed from the waist down, and his cock was visibly raging against the tight fabric of his slacks—creating a massive, hard ridge that stretched the material to its absolute limit.
As he worked between your thighs, his lower body was instinctively and frantically humping into the mattress, hips rolling in a rhythm that sent deep, heavy vibrations pulsing right through the bed and into your own body.
"God, Seonghwa," you panted, your hands reaching down to tightly grip his hair again, keeping him pinned against your clit. "You—you're getting off just from eating me out? Fuck—look at your pants, so fucking desperate."
The words hit him like a physical wave as he let out a low moan, hips rolling harder against the mattress.
"Such a good boy," you purred, fingers gently tugging at his hair. "Look at you, doing so good for me. Eating me out so well."
Another broken whimper escaped the man, his entire body shaking, tongue moving with an even more desperate and sloppy urgency from the praise.
He was begging with every lap of his tongue, his nose burying deeper into your wetness, completely lost in your taste, your scent, and your rules. He was whimpering into your skin, high on your pleasure, devouring you as if your climax were the only thing keeping his heart beating in the dark.
The heat in your lower belly coiled tighter, a dizzying pressure that left you trembling from head to toe. You were right on the edge, your core pulsing around his wet tongue, but the sight of his clothed body rubbing against the mattress became too much to handle.
You needed him inside you.
"Seonghwa," you gasped, a commanding note cutting through your own haze as you tightened your grip on his dark hair once more, pulling his face away from your pussy.
He let out a pathetic whine at the sudden loss of contact, his lips glistening and wet with your arousal as he looked up at you through long eyelashes. His eyes were dripping with a raw, needy desperation.
"Take them off," you panted, your eyes dropping to the leaking outline of his cock straining against his uniform slacks.
You gave a slight tug to his hair, your voice dropping into an authoritative purr. "Get rid of your clothes. Right now, Seonghwa."
Seonghwa whimpered as he scrambled backwards instantly, a clumsy rush to obey your every word. His fingers slipped repeatedly against the heavy buckle of his belt as he let out a frustrated, whiny groan, a curse slipping past his lips while he frantically yanked at the leather, finally unbuckling it with a loud, metallic clatter that echoed in the room.
He didn't even care about being neat, practically tearing at the heavy fabric of his slacks, his breath coming in short hitches as he kicked them off his long legs, sending them flying onto the floorboards.
He turned back to you, kneeling at the edge of the mattress. His cock raged proudly against his stomach, long and thick as it flushed red with beads of precum pooling in his slit.
He hovered over you, hands coming to rest flat against your thighs to steady himself from his own trembling desire. "Please," he rasped, his voice a broken whisper.
His glassy eyes pleaded with yours, stripped entirely of his usual facade. "P-please let me fill you. Tell me I can have you. I-I'm clean, I swear to god. I haven’t been with anyone. I haven't touched a soul since the day I became your shadow. There's nobody else. Only you."
The raw honesty in his confession made your heart flutter. "I'm clean too, Seonghwa," you reassured him softly, your fingers tracing the hard line of his wrist as you pulled him closer. "And I'm on the pill. You don't have to worry about anything tonight. I'm safe."
A sudden wave of relief washed over his expression, a shuddering breath escaping his parted lips as your words removed the very last barrier holding him back.
Before he could lean down, you shifted your weight, your voice dropping back into a teasing command. "Guide your cock against me first, Seonghwa. Slide it along my folds. Spread it."
A sharp whine broke from the back of his throat. Scrambling to follow your exact words, his trembling fingers reached down between your bodies, gripping the thick length of his dick.
Slowly, he pressed the head of his cock against your entrance, following your command to the letter as he dragged the slick tip of his cock up and down along your glistening folds, smoothly painting your pussy with the mixed wetness of his own arousal and saliva as well as your slick.
The movement was torture for the both of you. Seonghwa let out a wrecked groan with every slow stroke, his hips subtly twitching as his body practically screamed for the tight heat of your core. Tears of desperation and need welled in his long lashes, his face entirely flushed.
"Please," he begged, his voice whiny and desperate as his eyelids threatened to flutter shut. "Please—nnngh—I can't... it's too much. Let me push inside—I’ll be so good for you. I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll take such good care of you, just please—fuck—please."
Your clit throbbed from the desperation of his words. "Do it," you breathed out, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Take me, Seonghwa."
Seonghwa lunged forward, crashing his mouth down onto yours in a devouring kiss with a loud moan—hands clamping onto your hipsas he finally drove his hips forward, filling you to the brim with his cock.
Two long years of suffocating tension and suppressed glances violently crashed together the moment your bodies fused. The sensation of his cock finally stretching you open, filling you up knocked a high, strangled cry from your throat—a sound that was instantly swallowed by his hungry mouth.
Seonghwa groaned directly into your lips as his body completely froze inside you. He stayed buried deep, his muscles trembling violently under the tight intensity of your walls gripping him.
His forehead rested heavily against the crook of your shoulder as he stayed buried inside you, his body shaking with the strain of holding himself back. You could feel every desperate twitch of his cock, the way it pulsed needingly inside you from the tight heat of your pussy.
"Slow," you choked out, your hands sliding up his broad, sweaty back, your palms skidding against the slick expanse of his skin. "Move slowly, Seonghwa. Let me adjust."
A choked groan escaped the deepest part of his chest, but he obeyed instantly. He pulled back with a torturously slow, deliberate drag, the slick friction making you whimper as your walls clung to his length. He drove back in with an unhurried depth.
You could feel the faint flutter in his thighs—the violent, involuntary trembling of a man actively suppressing the urge to absolutely pound into you. But the instinct to claim, to take what was his, was buried in an instant. The desperation to please, to be good, completely overtook his senses.
The quiet hum of the room shattered the second Seonghwa moved, incoherent, desperate ramblings muttered frantically against your neck, his voice completely wrecked as he found a slow rhythm.
"Nnngh—you feel so good," he babbled, his breath hot and damp against your skin. "So tight—god—you're so warm. I can't ...I can't think..."
Though his pace remained slow, his hips twitched hard with every thrust, cock reaching so deep it left you gasping. He hitched, a sharp breath from his throat as his large hands tightened on your hips.
"C-can I go faster?" he begged, desperately whining as he looked down at you with tear-soaked eyes. "P-please... fuck, please let me. I need this so bad. I'm losing it."
You looked up at his flushed face, a thrilling surge of power coiling in your chest despite the heavy, sweet ache building in your own hips.
"Not yet, princess," you whispered, a teasing authority dripping from your tongue. You looked at the desperation twisting his beautiful features and let out a breathless, mocking exhale. "You're going to suffer the exact way I did for two long years."
Seonghwa cried out at the words, a loud, broken sob slipping past his lips from the denial but also from how fucking good you felt. The sound of his ragged breathing filled the small room, competing only with the fierce howling of the blizzard beating against the cabin walls outside.
You reached up, hand gripping forcefully around his jaw. Your fingers dug into his skin, tilting his head down and forcing his eyes to lock directly onto yours.
"Look at me," you commanded sternly.
He obeyed instantly. Completely pliant, his jaw rested heavily in your hand, his gaze wide and unfiltered. The sheer need to be good, to be trapped entirely by your rules, waiting on your every breath so beautifully spread across his face.
You pulled his face down the last remaining inch, crashing your mouth against his in a hungry, wet kiss. Seonghwa was soft against your lips, following your lead with a desperate, slippery rhythm that mirrored his surrender.
You pressed your lips firmly against his, your hearts synced with a beat that vibrated right through your chests, and you finally decided to unleash the beast at your feet.
"Fuck me, baby," you whispered against his mouth, your voice a demanding promise. "Fuck me like you mean it."
The final thread of his self-control violently snapped. A loud groan erupted from the man, finally replacing the cautious rhythm with hard and brutally fast thrusts.
He drove into you with a dizzying speed, his hips slamming against yours with a wet, heavy slap that echoed loudly in the dark room. The sounds became chaotic and loud—the wet, squelching friction of his slick shaft sliding in and out of your overflowing wetness, the heavy, rhythmic thud of his pelvis bruising against yours, and the wrecked groans tearing from his throat with every single thrust.
He was pounding into you like a man possessed, his cock bottoming out with every single thrust, filling you up in a way you never thought your body could physically handle. You moaned against his mouth, your back arching off the mattress as your vision threatened to turn white.
Your fingers clawed desperately into the thick muscles of his shoulders, drawing faint red lines across his skin as he consumed you, driving you both higher and higher into a blinding heat that completely obliterated the winter freezing outside.
The friction between your bodies reached a feverish pitch. The room felt entirely too small, too hot, the air heavy and thick with the scent of sex, wood, and the salt of your mingled sweat. Seonghwa’s movements had completely lost all semblance of calculated precision; he was running on pure instinct, his chest heaving as he repeatedly buried his thick length deep inside you.
"Ah—Seonghwa, Seonghwa, wait—" Your voice broke, a breathless, desperate cry, as the familiar coil in your lower belly wound tighter and tighter, turning into a sharp, intolerable ache.
He stuttered against you in a sharp, ragged hitch as his whole body went rigid. He looked down at you, his eyes wide and glassy.
"I'm close—god, I'm so close," he babbled incoherently, his voice a broken sound as his hips trembled violently against yours. "I can't hold it, I'm going to—"
"You can't come," you cut him off in a commanding tone. Your fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders, holding his weight in place. "You don't get to come until I do, Seonghwa."
His head shook back and forth, dark strands of wet hair clinging to his flushed forehead as he choked out a ruined sob. "P-please... it hurts, it feels too good, I'm right there—"
"Then hurry up," you panted, your eyes burning into his.
He scrambled to obey, his body shifting slightly as his right hand slid down between your fused bodies. You gasped when his thumb found your clit, circling it with a desperate wet friction that made your hips stutter from the touch.
His other hand flew up to tightly grip the swell of your breast, his large palm molding over your soft skin with a possessive intensity. He leaned down, his mouth hot as he took your nipple between his lips, tongue swirling and flattening against the sensitive peak while his teeth desperately grazed the edge.
Every deep pull of his mouth sent a jolt of pleasure straight down to your core, perfectly synchronized with the rapid, wet friction of his thumb circling your clit and the heavy, stuttering depth of his cock thrusting you open.
You completely lost your mind. Your head thrashed against the pillows, your vision splintering into blinding streaks of white heat as the intense, throbbing pressure in your lower belly expanded.
"Seonghwa—Seonghwa, now, I'm—"
Your hips gave one final, shuddering spasm against his hand as your climax violently hit, locking your muscles tight while your walls pulsed aggressively around his length.
Seonghwa broke out in a quiet sob, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth were grinding, tears of restraint spilling down his flushed cheeks as he waited for your spoken cue.
You looked at the man, fingers tangling weakly in his sweat-soaked hair. "Cum, baby," you purred. "You deserve it. So good for me."
A low groan erupted from him as his body violently slammed forward, chasing the same peak you had achieved mere seconds before.
His climax hit him hard, driving his hips forward in one last, deep thrust, pinning you flat against the mattress as his thick length pulsed inside your squeezing hole. You could feel the pool of his release painted deep inside you.
He shot into you over and over, his muscles locking into painful, rigid lines along his back and shoulders as he fucked every single drop of cum out of his spent cock, his breath leaving him in short, pathetic whimpers.
Slowly, the frantic beating of his heart began to steady, his sweaty chest collapsing fully against yours as the room fell quiet. Seonghwa didn't pull out. He stayed buried deep within your warmth, his face nuzzled straight into the crook of your neck as his trembling arms wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you to his skin like a man who had finally found his home in the middle of the dark.
The adrenaline slowly drained from the room, leaving behind a thick, humid silence that felt completely detached from the raging blizzard outside. You laid there beneath his solid weight, your mind a hazy, comfortable blur of exhaustion and pure bliss.
Seonghwa’s face remained buried in your neck, his breath coming in slow, shuddering puffs against your damp skin. You slid your hands up his sweaty shoulders, fingers gently running through the dark, damp strands of his hair, massaging his scalp in slow, soothing circles.
"You did so well, Seonghwa," you murmured, your voice dropping into a soft, comforting whisper against his ear. "Look how sweet you are. You took such good care of me, baby. I felt so safe, so incredibly good."
An involuntary whine escaped the back of his throat—a helpless, tiny sound that broke your heart with how sweet it was. He buried his face deeper into your skin, completely pliant, soaking in the soothing rhythm of your voice like a child being comforted after a long storm.
The cooling air of the room finally began to bite at your bare skin, and you gently tried to shift your weight to clean up. "I'll be right back, okay? I need to grab a towel from the bathroom."
The moment you tried to pull away, a sharp wave of panic rippled through his dazed state. Seonghwa let out a louder, more frantic whine, and his hand blindly scrambled across the sheets until his fingers locked around your wrist.
His grip wasn't bruising or forceful like before; it was heavy, trembling, and deeply desperate, silently begging you not to break the physical connection. He shook his head weakly against your shoulder, his eyes unfocused as he clung to your wrist like a lifeline.
"Shh, it's okay, I'm not leaving you," you soothed him, using your free hand to gently stroke his flushed cheek, kissing his forehead. "You're okay, princess. I'm just getting a towel to clean us up. I promise I’ll be right back to hold you."
He let out one more fragile, thready sigh, his fingers slowly, reluctantly loosening their grip on your wrist as he sank back into the mattress.
Gathering the top sheet of the bed, you wrapped it securely around your body, dragging the heavy fabric over your shoulders. Holding the sheet tight against your chest, you slid your bare feet onto the freezing floorboards, your knees bucking slightly from the lingering tremors of your climax.
The narrow hallway was somewhat dark, only illuminated by the faint gleam of the lanterns. You navigated the shadows with a hand against the timber wall, stepping toward the small bathroom near the main room.
You reached for the doorknob, but before your fingers could even wrap around it, the door suddenly shot open.
You gasped, pulling the sheet tightly to your chin as you stumbled backward.
Standing in the doorway of the bathroom was San. He froze instantly, completely caught off guard. He was bare-chested, a white cotton sheet wrapped around his waist, and a fluffy white towel clutched tightly in his large hand. His hair was messy, his lips swollen, and his chest still heavily flushed with a telltale heat.
For what felt like an eternity, the two of you just stared at each other in shock. The silence in the hallway stretched, loud and incredibly awkward.
Then, your eyes dropped to the towel in his hand, and the muffled memory of the quiet giggles and the single upstairs bedroom door clicking shut from earlier flashed through your mind.
The realization hit you as an amused huff escaped your lips, and San's shoulders instantly dropped as a wide, boyish grin broke across his face.
You shared a quiet, deeply knowing nod—an unspoken pact of absolute solidarity between two people caught red-handed in the exact same state of breathless ruin.
"Towel's on the rack," San whispered, a quiet, amused chuckle catching in his throat as he stepped past you, carefully keeping his sheet secure. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight, San," you breathed out, a soft laugh shaking your shoulders.
You watched his shadow vanish up the creaking wooden staircase, his heavy footsteps careful as he returned to Wooyoung upstairs. Smiling to yourself, you stepped into the small bathroom, quickly grabbing a clean, damp towel to wipe away the sticky, sweet evidence of your night along with the semen slowly trailing down your thighs.
The room was freezing when you returned, but the second you dropped the sheet and slid back onto the mattress, you were instantly engulfed in a wall of comforting heat. Seonghwa tossed and mindlessly wrapped his arm around you, pulling you flat against his damp chest. He sighed in content the moment he felt your warmth return.
He tucked the heavy wool blankets securely around your shoulders, burying his nose back into your hair as his leg hooked tightly over yours, anchoring you completely beneath him.
You couldn't help but giggle. “Seonghwa, I need to clean you.”
But his grip remained firm, pinning you against the safety of his embrace. You huffed in defeat but decided it wasn't worth the hassle.
As the blizzard continued to howl uselessly against the cabin walls, you closed your eyes and drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep, wrapped in the comforting certainty that your shadow was never going to let you go.
