synopsis : After playing your husband’s music video, your toddler recognizes Park Seonghwa on the screen and refuses to stop watching it—until his dad comes home and joins the chaos.
03JYH23 Presents: The Ateez Diaries, a 2k followers Vampire Special 🩸
Seonghwa has lived too long. He’s weary, detached, and drifting through the decades with the quiet grace of a bygone era, speaking in the polite, formal cadence of the old world. Sitting in a dim New Orleans jazz club, swirling his bourbon, he’s merely existing—until you walk through the door. In a world full of noise, you are the first thing in a century that makes his immortal, tired heart actually want to beat again.
➢ vampire!seonghwa x human!reader | ➢ supernatural au, vampire au, angst, love at first sight | ➢ compulsion, loneliness, references to death/mortality | ➢ 8k | ➢ master list | ➢ i was writing it with my window open wide and raindrops banging on my windowsill; summer turned a little rainy on my part of the earth. this one is a little different, it focuses more on seonghwa than the reader, but i hope you'll like it 🌧️🖤
ㅤㅤㅤThe bourbon was older than the young man who poured it.
Seonghwa turned the crystal tumbler between his fingers, watching amber liquor catch the low light of the brass lamps. It moved lazily, painting gold against cut glass before settling once more into perfect stillness. He found himself envying it.
Even whiskey, eventually, reached the bottom of the glass.
The jazz club had changed names three times since he first discovered it. The wallpaper was new. The velvet had been replaced. Smoking had become a memory rather than a haze that lingered beneath the chandeliers. Yet it still smelled the same. Mahogany polished until it gleamed beneath dim light. Bourbon rich enough to burn sweetly. Expensive perfume woven through the room like invisible silk. Rain carried in on tailored coats each time the front door opened.
New Orleans had always smelled alive.
He supposed that was why he’d returned. Not for nostalgia. Not for absolution, simply because endings ought to know where they belong. His had begun here. Nearly three centuries ago, beneath a sky swollen with summer storms, in a city that welcomed monsters as easily as saints. He had arrived a frightened young man with a beating heart. He had left with neither.
A quiet melody drifted from the stage as the pianist surrendered to the saxophone. Applause rose, polite and restrained, before dissolving into murmured conversation, crystal clinked against crystal.
Seonghwa inclined his head in silent thanks as his drink was served. “Much obliged.”
The bartender smiled, unaware that the gentleman thanking him had witnessed Napoleon’s empire rise and fall before his great-grandfather had drawn his first breath. People rarely looked twice at old manners, they simply assumed old money… if only wealth were the strangest thing he possessed.
Seonghwa lifted the glass, more from habit than desire, the bourbon no longer intoxicated him. Neither did music. Nor beauty. Nor the passing of seasons. Time had sanded every sharp edge from existence until centuries blurred into one another with exhausting grace. Faces faded, cities transformed, empires crumbled into museum exhibits, lovers became names carved into stone.
For fifty-three years, one thought had accompanied Seonghwa with unwavering devotion.
Enough.
Not desperation, not grief. Merely certainty that he had lived long enough to become a relic wandering through a world that no longer required remembering.
Outside, thunder rolled somewhere beyond the Mississippi. Inside, a woman laughed three tables away. She was young, perhaps twenty-five. She threw her head back with the careless abandon reserved for those who had not yet learned how quickly years accumulated. Seonghwa watched her for a moment, not because she fascinated him but because once upon a time he had believed laughter sounded eternal. Now he knew better. Give it twenty years, the corners of her eyes would soften first. Another ten, perhaps fifteen, and silver would begin collecting discreetly at her temples.
Then, inevitably… Someone would attend her funeral.
He lowered his gaze to the bourbon. Everyone became a memory eventually, Seonghwa simply remained long enough to remember them. Grief had once been a violent thing, he remembered weeping until sunrise over faces whose names he could no longer recall. Now grief resembled old velvet: it was soft, heavy, constant enough that he only noticed its absence.
The quartet played beautifully, Seonghwa knew because he remembered when the song had first been written. He remembered hearing it played badly in crowded rooms thick with cigar smoke. He remembered the man who had once claimed, with complete confidence, that jazz would never survive another decade. He had been buried for almost a century. The music remained. As did Seonghwa. Against both their wishes.
“Another bourbon, sir?” The young man could not have been more than thirty. Crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled neatly to the forearms, a smile practiced enough to appear effortless. There was youth in his face—not merely in smooth skin, but in certainty that tomorrow would arrive because it always had.
“If you would be so kind.”
The bartender inclined his head and reached for the bottle, “You’ve hardly touched this one.”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of Seonghwa’s mouth. “No,” his voice was soft, warm despite the years it carried. “I seldom do.” The explanation seemed enough, the bartender simply nodded before replacing the bottle and drifting toward another patron. People rarely questioned peculiarities when accompanied by impeccable manners. They invented explanations kinder than the truth: old money, an eccentric collector, a lonely widower. Any of those fit more comfortably than monster. Seonghwa rested two fingers against the cool crystal once more. The bourbon smelled of oak, vanilla, and smoke. He remembered when whiskey had been harsher, remembered when it had been poured into rough clay cups by men with dirt beneath their fingernails and hope in their eyes. He remembered the first distillery he’d ever visited, the owner had insisted his son would inherit it. Neither man survived the fever that winter. The distillery did, and it still produced award-winning bottles.
Time had a peculiar sense of humor.
Seonghwa’s eyes wandered lazily across the room, the club breathed around him. Conversation rose and fell, never loud enough to intrude upon the quartet tucked into the corner beneath crimson curtains. Couples leaned close enough to become silhouettes rather than individuals. A businessman loosened his tie as he laughed, an elderly woman, draped in emerald silk and pearls, tapped one gloved finger against her glass in perfect rhythm with the music.
Life.
Everywhere.
Ordinary.
Fragile.
Beautiful.
Seonghwa had once believed beauty could become ordinary only through abundance. He had been wrong. It became ordinary through repetition. The first sunrise after his turning had stolen every word from his mouth, three centuries later he scarcely looked toward the horizon. He had witnessed cathedrals rise stone by stone, wars begin over pride and end in silence. He had danced in ballrooms illuminated by thousands of candles, crossed oceans beneath sails, watched electricity replace fire, watched horse-drawn carriages surrender to automobiles, telegrams to telephones, letters to glowing screens small enough to fit within a pocket.
Humanity insisted upon moving forward. Only he remained. Always arriving. Never belonging.
Another woman laughed somewhere behind him, bright and unrestrained. Laughter had become strangely predictable over the centuries, Seonghwa could hear affection in its cadence. Hear uncertainty, the careful politeness reserved for strangers and the careless joy shared between old friends. There had been a time when he memorised voices. There had been lovers whose laughter alone could draw him from another room.
Now...
Now voices dissolved together, becoming part of the same endless symphony that accompanied every city, every century. He could scarcely remember the sound of the first woman he’d ever loved. He remembered her eyes, remembered the warmth of her hand. He remembered the way grief had hollowed him when the war took her away from him.
Her laugh… time had stolen that.
Perhaps that had been its cruelest theft, not lives but memories. A mortal lost someone and mourned them for decades, an immortal mourned until memory itself began to fray.
What remained after three hundred years?
Seonghwa closed his eyes briefly.
There had been so many names, perhaps too many. If he allowed himself, he could still recite them, not because he wished to remember but because he feared the day he no longer could. His maker, his first friend after the turning, the pianist who had hidden him during a fever epidemic, the child who had insisted he looked lonely and offered him half of her sugared pastry before running back to her mother. Soldiers, artists, priests, sinners, lovers, enemies. Every one of them beneath the earth, reduced to dates carved into stone. Except him. The realisation no longer hurt, pain required sharpness, and his had long ago worn smooth. It settled inside him instead, constant enough that he noticed only when, for the briefest of moments, it lifted. Seonghwa could not remember the last time that had happened. Perhaps fifty years, perhaps longer, the decades had begun bleeding into one another sometime before the twentieth century. He marked them now not by calendars, but by funerals, by the buildings that vanished from familiar streets, by the faces that stopped appearing. He had become intimately acquainted with disappearance.
It was why New Orleans had called him back. The city had taken almost everything from him. It had also given him eternity.
How strange that the two should prove inseparable.
His gaze drifted toward the rain-speckled window. Beyond the glass, the streets shimmered beneath gaslight-shaped electric lamps, reflections trembling in puddles left by an evening storm. The French Quarter wore time differently than other places. It accepted change the way old aristocrats accepted wrinkles—with dignity and no expectation of reclaiming youth. Some cities forgot, New Orleans remembered. Perhaps that was why he had returned, not to relive the beginning but simply to decide whether he wished to witness another ending. His time has come. He had seen everything he had once longed to see, loved more deeply than he believed possible, buried everyone he had ever sworn never to lose.
If eternity was a gift, it had become one left unopened. No. That wasn't true. It had been opened.
Admired.
Treasured.
And, eventually, outlived.
Seonghwa wondered—not for the first time—whether the heart could simply grow tired in ways the body never would.
The quartet drifted into another song, someone near the stage applauded softly, rain whispered against the windows. And Seonghwa, elegant as a portrait left hanging in a house that no longer belonged to its owners, sat alone with a drink he would never finish, waiting for nothing at all.
Or so he believed.
The resolve he needed to end it all felt closer tonight than it had in decades. He could simply leave his daylight ring, walk out and wait on a secluded balcony for the unforgiving New Orleans sun to burn away the centuries. It would be a quiet conclusion to a loud existence.
The old oak door groaned on its hinges, a draft slipped into the room, cool with rain, carrying the scent of wet pavement. Someone laughed near the entrance, someone apologised for dripping water onto the hardwood floor, the quartet never missed a note. Nothing remarkable had happened.
And yet—
Seonghwa frowned.
It was... quiet.
No.
Not the room.
Himself.
For the first time in longer than he cared to calculate, the incessant drone inside his mind—the endless procession of memory and melancholy—had fallen still. The silence was so unfamiliar that he found himself searching for its cause. His fingers loosened around the crystal glass. An odd sensation unfurled beneath his ribs, not pain, nor hunger. Something... remembered. His brow knit almost imperceptibly.
Impossible.
He had not possessed a heartbeat in nearly three centuries. Yet, for the briefest instant, he could have sworn he felt the phantom echo of one.
Once.
Slow.
Heavy.
Then nothing.
His hand stilled entirely.
“...Sir?”
The bartender stood beside him, a bottle poised politely in one hand.
“Pardon?”
“You were saying something.”
Seonghwa blinked.
Had he?
“I beg your pardon,” he replied, smoothing invisible creases from his cuff. “I fear my thoughts wandered.”
“They’ll do that in this place,” the bartender smiled before moving on, Seonghwa remained motionless. That...
...had never happened before.
He had mistaken many things across the centuries: grief for love, loneliness for desire, habit for purpose. But never this, his body did not forget itself. It did not invent sensations, and it certainly did not… he almost laughed.
Heartbeat.
How absurd that he was allowing nostalgia to masquerade as memory. New Orleans had always been dangerous in that regard. He was simply tired, that was all.
He lifted the glass, the bourbon reaching his lips yet he didn’t drink. Someone had entered his peripheral vision, he paid them no mind. A woman removed her raincoat near the entrance, shaking droplets from the dark fabric before offering an apologetic smile to the hostess. She laughed at something the older woman said, warm and unforced. The sound drifted across the room with impossible clarity, threading effortlessly between the saxophone and the murmured conversations. Seonghwa’s fingers tightened around the crystal.
No, not the laugh.
The feeling.
There it was again, that impossible pressure beneath his ribs.
A second phantom heartbeat.
Then another.
Slow.
Measured.
His eyes lifted before permission could be granted.
The movement startled him, it was instinct, his gaze crossed the room and it found you immediately. Not because you demanded attention, quite the opposite. You weren’t trying, you stood beneath the warm glow of the entrance lamps, one hand tucked into the belt of your coat while the hostess spoke animatedly to you. Rain had kissed loose strands of hair that framed your face animated by easy expressions—curious eyes, a crooked smile offered without calculation, the sort of smile that belonged to someone who still believed strangers might become friends before the evening was over.
There was nothing theatrical about you, nothing that should have undone three centuries of impeccable composure. You were simply… Alive. Not in the way every mortal was alive. There was a peculiar brightness to you, as though the world had not yet succeeded in convincing you to dull yourself for its comfort. You looked at people when they spoke as if every story mattered, as if every passing moment deserved to be witnessed. Seonghwa had forgotten such people existed. The realisation struck him because he had once been one of them. Long before hunger, long before blood, long before eternity had taught him that every bright thing was destined to fade. You thanked the hostess with a touch to the older woman’s arm.
Such a small gesture.
So inconsequential.
And Seonghwa felt something inside him fracture, not painfully. Quietly, like ice surrendering to the first warmth of spring. His immortal existence had been defined by one unwavering truth. Everything ended: cities, kingdoms, families, love. Even grief, if given enough centuries. Yet as he watched you smile at a stranger… A thought entered his mind that had not visited him in over fifty years.
Perhaps not tonight.
His fingers slowly released the glass.
For the first time in decades tomorrow did not feel like a sentence.
Seonghwa did not realize he was watching until you began walking toward him, well not toward him. Toward the empty seat beside him.
Of course.
The rest of the bar had filled sometime during the evening, every velvet stool occupied save the one at his right. You slowed, glancing first at the vacant chair before turning those impossibly attentive eyes upon him. “Excuse me,” your voice was softer than he’d expected. “Is this seat taken?”
For the briefest moment, Seonghwa forgot language, a ridiculous thing. He spoke six languages with varying degrees of fluency. Yet a simple question seemed to catch somewhere between thought and speech. He rose instinctively, one hand resting lightly against the back of the chair. “It is not,” his voice emerged calm, and measured. “If it would please you.”
A smile, small and grateful. “Thank you.”
The bartender appeared almost immediately. “What can I get you?”
“A dirty martini,” you paused, “...extra olives.”
“Coming right up.”
The exchange lasted mere seconds. Seonghwa stared fixedly ahead, he had perfected stillness centuries ago, he would not be discourteous enough to stare. Nor discourteous enough to acknowledge the peculiar awareness that now occupied every one of his senses. Coldness reached him first, not unpleasant, not the biting chill of winter, rather the lingering coolness left behind by rain, clinging to damp skin and fabric. It radiated gently from you, dissolving against the warmth of the crowded room.
Then—
Your scent.
His eyes closed, only for an instant. Rainwater, jasmine. Something impossibly soft... vanilla, perhaps.
No.
Not vanilla.
Books, old paper. The faint sweetness of aging pages.
Beneath it all… you. Every mortal carried a scent no perfume could disguise Blood, life, and warmth. His kind often described it crudely: hunger. Seonghwa had always found that description lacking, blood did not merely smell of sustenance. It smelled of memory. Of childhood scraped knees, of racing hearts before first kisses, of laughter that stole one’s breath, of tears, of fear. Of every beautiful, fleeting thing reserved for those destined to die.
Yours...
God.
He had never encountered anything quite like it. Not sweeter, not stronger. Simply… familiar. Like hearing a melody one had loved long ago without remembering where. Something inside him leaned toward it before his body could object, his fingers tightened against the crystal tumbler.
No.
Absolutely not.
He had spent nearly three centuries mastering every instinct that separated predator from gentleman. He would not falter now, not over one woman, not over a scent. He lowered the bourbon to the polished wood with deliberate care, the glass did not tremble. His hands never did, only his thoughts.
Beside him, you thanked the bartender as your martini was set upon its coaster. “Perfect,” you plucked one olive free with the little silver pick, smiling to yourself before taking a sip. “...Mmm.” The quiet sound of satisfaction drew his attention despite every effort to remain detached. Seonghwa looked, just once. You caught him. There was no accusation in your expression, no embarrassment, only amused curiosity. “Good bourbon?” The question arrived lightly, conversationally.
Seonghwa regarded his untouched glass. “I could not honestly say.”
One elegant brow lifted. “No?”
“I’ve yet to drink it.”
You looked from the nearly full bourbon...
...to him.
“...Then why order it?”
For the first time that evening—
for the first time in what felt like an age—
the corner of Seonghwa’s mouth curved into something that wasn’t merely polite. It was small and almost imperceptible, but real. “I’m beginning to suspect,” he said quietly, “that was the question all along.”
You blinked. Then laughed. It was nothing like the laughter echoing from the tables behind you. Yours came quietly, escaping before you could stop it, accompanied by the smallest shake of your head. “That’s... incredibly cryptic.”
“I’ve been told as much.”
“Frequently?”
“Once or twice,” the answer was delivered with such unwavering sincerity that you couldn’t tell whether he was joking. You studied him from the corner of her eye. Everything about him felt... curated. Not artificial, rather intentional. His suit fit as though it had been tailored for him alone, silver cufflinks caught the warm light whenever he moved his hands, though he scarcely moved at all. His posture remained impossibly straight without seeming rigid, shoulders relaxed, one hand resting lightly beside the untouched tumbler. Even the way he occupied silence felt practiced, comfortable. Most people rushed to fill it. He simply... existed within it.
“You know,” you said after another sip of your martini, “I almost didn’t come tonight.”
“Indeed?”
“Mhm,” you rolled the olive between your teeth before setting the pick back down. “I've had one of those weeks where staying home in pyjamas sounds infinitely more appealing than putting on heels.”
“I confess I know very little of high heels.”
Another smile threatened on your face, “I would’ve never guessed.”
“No.”
You glanced at him fully this time, his expression remained composed, yet there was something so perfectly dry in his delivery that you laughed again. “You’re funnier than you let on.”
“I assure you, that was not my intention.”
“Oh, I think it was.”
Seonghwa inclined his head ever so slightly. “You are entitled to your suspicions.”
God.
Who talked like that?
Not in an affected way, not like someone performing sophistication. It sounded... natural. As though every sentence had been assembled with care before it ever reached his lips. You wondered how old he was. Mid-thirties, perhaps. Older? It was impossible to tell. There wasn’t a single line on his face, yet there was something profoundly settled about him. A patience you’d only ever seen in elderly professors or grandparents who had nothing left to prove.
“You aren’t from around here.”
His gaze drifted toward the quartet, “I was.”
“Were?”
“A very long time ago.”
You smiled, “So... college?”
A pause.
“...Something like that.”
Seonghwa hated lying but it had become necessary centuries ago. Not because he feared discovery but because the truth burdened others more than falsehood burdened him.
How old are you?
Three hundred and eight.
Where are you from?
A country whose borders no longer exist.
Do you have family?
Not anymore.
The answers had only ever invited pity or disbelief. Tonight… he found himself wishing he could answer honestly. He could not understand why.
“I come here every Thursday,” you said, swirling your martini absentmindedly. “Well... almost every Thursday.”
“A habit?”
“I like routines,” you shrugged, taking another sip of the liquor from the crystal glass. “They make life feel less chaotic.”
Seonghwa’s eyes settled on you once more. “What an extraordinary privilege.”
You frowned. “...Routine?”
“To believe there shall be enough tomorrows to justify one,” the words escaped before he could stop them. Silence followed but not awkwardly.
You looked down into the clear liquid of your drink. “...That’s a sad way of looking at it.”
“Is it?”
“I think so.”
“Why?”
You rested your elbow against the bar. “Because tomorrow isn’t promised.”
“No.”
“So I’d rather have a Thursday tradition than spend every Thursday wondering whether there’s any point.” His gaze remained fixed upon you. You continued, unaware that every word was lodging somewhere deep inside him. “I mean…” You smiled sheepishly. “Maybe that’s naive.”
“No,” his answer came immediately. “...It is not."
You looked surprised by the certainty in his voice. “I think people overcomplicate happiness,” you went on. “Everyone’s chasing these huge life-changing moments,” you gestured vaguely around the room before continuing. “But sometimes...” Your eyes wandered toward the stage, where the saxophonist had begun a slow, aching solo. “...Sometimes it’s just this.”
“The music?”
You nodded. “And the rain outside. A martini,” you lifted your glass. “The extra olives,” a grin tugged at the corner of your mouth. “And accidentally making conversation with the mysterious bourbon guy who apparently buys drinks for decorative purposes.”
For a heartbeat—
a real one, or the phantom of one—
Seonghwa forgot to breathe.
Not because of the joke. Because of the ease with which you occupied the moment. That was what unsettled him most. Not your smile, not your warmth, not even the strange, impossible pull that seemed to draw him toward you despite every instinct he had spent centuries mastering. It was the simplicity of it. You had entered his evening as naturally as the rain had entered the streets outside. You had taken a place beside him as though you belonged there, as though his silence was not something to be feared or filled, but merely something that could exist beside another person.
As though loneliness was not an inevitable fate.
As though it could simply...
be interrupted.
The thought was absurd. And yet, his gaze drifted toward the untouched bourbon resting before him. For decades, he had ordered drinks he never intended to finish. A glass in his hand made him appear human enough; a small performance of normalcy he had perfected long ago. But tonight—
Tonight, he reached for it.
The crystal was cool beneath his fingers. Slowly, almost cautiously, Seonghwa lifted the glass to his lips. The bourbon was familiar, he knew every note of it before it even touched his tongue. The richness of oak, the faint sweetness of vanilla, the sharp warmth of alcohol that lingered afterward. But memory was not the same as experience. For so long, everything had simply passed through him. Music, food, seasons, years. Beautiful things had become distant reflections, things he remembered enjoying rather than things he could still enjoy. But this—
This was different. The burn was real, the warmth was real. For one brief moment, the world reached him.
Beside him, you watched the amber liquid disappear past his lips, your expression brightening with satisfaction. “Look at that,” your smile turned teasing. “The spell is broken.”
Seonghwa lowered the glass, placing it carefully against the dark mahogany. “It would appear so.”
You rested your chin in your hand, looking at him with amusement. “And who, exactly, deserves credit for such a miraculous achievement?”
His gaze moved toward you. For a moment, he had no answer. Not because he did not know but because the truth felt far too vulnerable to say. “My companion.”
Your brows lifted. “Oh?”
“Indeed.”
“And what did I do?”
The question was asked lightly but Seonghwa found himself considering it with more seriousness than it deserved. You had not done anything extraordinary, you had not performed some impossible feat. You had simply sat beside him. You had spoken. You had laughed. You had treated him as though he were not something separate from the world.
“You reminded me,” he said quietly, “of the value of an evening.” His fingers rested against the edge of the glass. “An art I fear I had entirely forgotten.”
For once, you did not immediately tease him, you only watched him. Then, slowly, a smile appeared. “Are you always this formal?”
Seonghwa inclined his head slightly. “I was taught it was discourteous to be otherwise.”
A soft laugh escaped you, a simple sound, human sound. And once again, that strange phantom sensation stirred beneath his ribs.
A heartbeat that did not exist.
A memory of something he had lost.
“Well…” You leaned closer, only slightly. “Don’t stop.”
His eyes found yours. “Excuse me?”
“It’s charming.”
The word struck him with a quiet force he had not expected.
Charming.
For centuries, he had been called many things. Elegant. Beautiful. Intimidating. Mysterious. Cold. Dangerous. People looked at him and saw old wealth, old power, old secrets. They saw something distant. Something untouchable. But charming? No. That was different. That was a word belonging to ordinary moments, to warm conversations, to someone you enjoyed sitting beside. It was not a word reserved for legends or monsters. It was a word reserved for people. And somehow, impossibly, you had looked at him and found one.
Time, which had dragged behind him for decades like a chain he could never break, seemed to loosen its grip. The quartet shifted into another song. The saxophone fell quiet, replaced by the smooth trumpet. The bartender polished the counter once, then twice, never interrupting the quiet corner you had claimed together. Your martini disappeared and was replaced with another, the silver pick holding three fresh olives. Seonghwa’s bourbon remained mostly untouched. And yet, for the first time in longer than he could remember, he was not counting. Not the exits, not the footsteps around him, not the heartbeats filling the room, not the endless years ahead of him. He was simply… there. Talking.
You spoke of books first. Not simply stories, but the feeling of them. The smell of old pages, the worn edges of a beloved novel, the strange comfort of returning to a world that had waited patiently for you. “Old books are the closest thing humans have to time travel,” you said.
Seonghwa found himself smiling faintly. “An interesting perspective.”
“It’s true,” you turned your glass slowly between your fingers. “Someone held that book before you. Someone loved it before you. Maybe someone read the same sentence and felt the same thing you did,” your eyes drifted around the room. “You can feel when something has lived.”
The words lingered.
You spoke of the French Quarter next. The architecture, and history. The way the city carried pieces of every person who had passed through it. “I love things that have survived,” you said softly, your voice lowered, almost reverent. “Antiques. Old buildings. Jazz. They have stories. They’ve seen thousands of lives, and they carry those secrets with them.”
Seonghwa looked at you and he wondered if you understood the irony of your own words. You admired things that survived, yet you had no idea you were sitting beside one. He was older than every object in this room. Older than most of the stories hidden within these walls. He carried too many memories. Too many names. Too many ghosts. Then your gaze returned to him. Bright, and curious, unburdened by the centuries he carried.
“What’s the oldest thing you’ve ever seen?”
The question was innocent, and that was why it was dangerous. Because Seonghwa answered before caution could stop him. “The construction of the—” he stopped, the words froze.
A mistake. But after centuries of silence, even the smallest crack could become an opening.
You blinked.
“Construction of what?”
The construction of the French Opera House.
Seonghwa lowered his gaze to the bourbon. He had spent his entire existence guarding this truth not because he feared what others would think but because he knew what would come after. Fear. Questions. Distance. People did not know how to love something that could outlive them. And yet, looking at you now, he found himself too tired to build another wall. He was tired of pretending, tired of weaving careful lies around a truth that had become heavier with every passing century. For just a moment… he wanted to stop. “I’m very old.”
The confession was not dramatic, there was no grand revelation, only a quiet truth spoken by a man who had carried it for far too long.
You gave a small laugh, assuming it was another piece of his dry humour. “I figured.”
His eyes remained on the glass. “You did not.”
That made you pause.
Slowly, Seonghwa lifted his gaze. “I am older than this country.”
Your smile faded, and your eyes searched his face for amusement. For any sign that he was playing some elaborate game. There was none.
The silence stretched.
Then you laughed again. But this time it was uncertain. “...You’re serious.”
“I have not lied to you this evening,” and that was when he heard it. The change in your heartbeat, the subtle shift in your breathing, the sudden rush of fear. He smelled the adrenaline before he saw the colour leave your face. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the bar, and immediately, instinct overcame everything else. Not hunger. Not self-preservation. Concern. “Look at me.”
You did.
Seonghwa softened his voice.
“You needn’t be afraid.”
The command was gentle.
The panic loosened its hold. Your heartbeat slowed, shoulders relaxed, mind remained clear. You drew in a slow breath. “...Did you just do something?”
Seonghwa looked away, “Yes.”
“What?”
A pause. Then, quietly: “I allowed you to remain calm.”
Your eyes narrowed slightly, “You can do that?”
“I can.”
It should have frightened you. Instead, you studied him. Then, somehow: “Do you sleep in coffins?”
Seonghwa stared. “...Good heavens, no.”
A tiny smile appeared, “Can you go in the sun?”
“I find it highly unpleasant.”
“So...” You tilted your head. “Sunscreen?”
For a moment, he simply looked at you. Then he sighed softly. “In rather excessive quantities, yes.”
The absurdity of the conversation settled over both of you.
And somehow—
impossibly—
you laughed.
So did he.
Quietly. Briefly. But genuinely. The sound echoed through the shadowed corner of the club. And that was what finally destroyed him. Not the fact that you knew. Not the fact that you were sitting beside a creature that should have terrified you. But that you knew exactly what he was… and you were still smiling. For the first time in decades, Seonghwa did not feel like a relic. Not a monster. Not a ghost. Just a man sitting beside someone who made the world feel alive again. The laughter faded slowly, not because either of you wanted it to. Because all laughter eventually ends, that was something Seonghwa knew better than anyone. His smile remained for a moment longer than it should have. Then reality returned. The woman beside him knew. Not everything but enough. You knew the impossible, the truth hidden beneath three centuries.
“I am weirdly calm about this,” you glanced at him.
“I told you to be.”
A pause. Then the faintest hint of amusement returned to your face. “Although I do have some questions.”
“I imagined you might.”
“First…” You lifted one finger. “Do you have fangs?”
The question was so unexpectedly ordinary that he almost forgot how to respond. “Yes.”
Your eyes widened. “Really?”
“That is typically considered one of the more recognizable characteristics.”
“Can I see?”
“No,” it came immediately.
You laughed, “That was suspiciously fast.”
“It was also necessary.”
“Why?”
His expression softened. “Because you are still human.”
The teasing faded slightly, not entirely. There it was again, that small, inconvenient reminder: You were temporary. He was not. Every moment he spent with you was a moment he would eventually remember alone.
“I have to admit something,” your voice pulled him from his thoughts. “I am not sure if I should be terrified or fascinated.”
A faint smile touched his lips. “Most would choose the former.”
“Most people aren’t sitting next to a vampire in a jazz club at midnight.”
“A reasonable observation.”
“Do you always answer like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve stepped out of a century-old novel.”
He lowered his gaze. “Perhaps I have simply remained in one.”
The answer should have been sad, you heard the sadness and that was what frightened him. Because you heard the things he did not say.
“How long have you been alone?”
He looked at you. Silence, a dangerous one. Because that question was far more terrifying than any question about his immortality. He could answer how old he was. He could explain what he was. But loneliness? That required admitting something was missing. His fingers tightened slightly around the glass. “I do not remember.”
Your expression changed. Not into pity, something gentler. And somehow that was worse. The room had grown quieter. The musicians had begun packing away their instruments. The last notes of the evening lingered in the air, soft and fading.
A goodbye. Everything eventually became one, Seonghwa knew that better than anyone. “I should go,” the words came automatically, the old instinct, old escape.
You tilted your head. “Do you want to?”
The question stopped him because the answer came too quickly.
No. He did not want to.
And that terrified him.
“You make things very difficult.”
A small smile appeared on your lips. “Do I?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
He looked at you for a long moment. Because you make me remember. Because you make me want. Because I had finally accepted the end, and then you walked through the door.
Before Seonghwa could answer, you closed the distance. Not dramatically, nor seductively. Your fingers brushed his. The contact was brief, barely there. Yet Seonghwa went completely still because every instinct told him to pull away. Every reason he had built over centuries rose at once. You were mortal. You would age. You would die. And Seonghwa? He would remain. He knew this ending. He had lived it countless times.
“Don’t,” the plea left him before he could stop it.
You paused, eyes searching his. “Don't what?”
He had no answer.
Don’t make me want this. Don’t make me remember what it feels like to be alive. Don’t give me something I cannot keep.
But you were already too close. “I don’t think you actually want to leave.” His breath caught, a human would have inhaled, he did not need to. But for a moment, he almost did. Your lips touched his for a brief moment, and Seonghwa forgot every language he had ever learned. For one impossible second, there was no history, no centuries, no graves, no inevitable ending waiting patiently in the distance.
Only warmth.
You.
The unbearable softness of being wanted.
His hands remained at his sides, he did not move because moving meant admitting that he wanted this. That he had wanted this from the moment you walked through the door. Then you pulled back slightly, enough to look at him, and that was when he realized something. You were giving him the choice: you were not asking him to take, you were asking him to stay. The realisation broke whatever remained of his restraint.
Slowly—
carefully—
as though approaching something fragile enough to disappear—
his hand lifted.
His fingers touched your cheek, cold against your warmth and for the first time in decades… he allowed himself to want. Only for a moment. He had spent so long measuring his existence in losses that he had forgotten what it meant to desire something without immediately mourning its ending. He knew better. He knew exactly what stood between you. He knew how this story ended. He had watched it happen before. So he should have stepped away, he should have thanked you for the evening, offered some elegant farewell, and disappeared into the night before this fragile warmth became something he could no longer bear to lose. That would have been the kind thing, the honourable thing, the thing he had always done. But then you looked at him and Seonghwa found himself making a terrible, selfish bargain. Just this once. One moment. One breath. He would allow himself this. He would not think of tomorrow. He would not think of the inevitable grief waiting patiently at the end of every human connection. He would simply exist here. With you. For one moment more.
The movement felt unfamiliar, almost impossible. As though his body remembered something his heart had long forgotten. His fingertips brushed your cheek, warm and alive. The contrast should have been unbearable. Instead, it was the most beautiful thing he had felt in decades. Your breath caught softly, not in fear but in surprise. And Seonghwa closed his eyes for the briefest moment. He should stop. He should stop now. Before there was more to regret. Before he crossed the final distance. But he had already crossed the most dangerous distance of all. He had let himself hope. Your eyes met his and in that quiet space between one heartbeat and the next, Seonghwa made the choice. Not forever, he was not foolish enough to believe in forever. Just now. Just this. His thumb brushed lightly against your cheek, an almost reverent gesture, memorising something he already knew he would lose. Then he leaned closer. Slowly, giving you every opportunity to change your mind. You did not.
The kiss was gentle. Not the desperate hunger of a creature starved for centuries. Not possession nor taking. Something far more dangerous.
Tenderness.
For a moment, Seonghwa forgot what he was. Forgot what he would eventually have to do. There was only the warmth of you beneath his hand. The softness of your lips. The quiet sound of your breath. The impossible miracle of being close to someone who knew the truth. He had forgotten that he could feel this. That he could want this. That there was still some part of him capable of reaching for something instead of simply letting it pass. And that was the cruelest part. Because the moment it ended, he knew. He knew he would remember it forever. A mortal moment. A fleeting moment. A single evening in a New Orleans jazz club. And somehow, it would become one of the most permanent things he had ever known.
When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested lightly against yours. His eyes remained closed. For one final second, he allowed himself to pretend. That this was possible. That he could stay. That he had not spent centuries preparing himself for goodbye. Then reality returned, and with it came the terrible knowledge that he had broken the one rule he had never allowed himself to break.
He had given his dead heart something to lose.
The rain had stopped. New Orleans shimmered beneath the streetlights, the pavement dark and gleaming. Seonghwa had walked these streets for longer than most buildings had stood. He knew every turn, every shadow, every place where history had left its mark. And yet, tonight, the city felt unfamiliar. Because you were beside him.
“You are quiet,” your voice pulled him from his thoughts, he looked at you.
“I am thinking.”
“About what?”
“About how strange it is.”
You tilted your head, “What is?”
“That after all this time…” His voice softened. “I had convinced myself I wanted nothing,” the honesty of the confession lingered between you.
“And now?”
His gaze moved over your face.
Now.
A dangerous word.
“Now I find myself wishing for things I have no right to ask for.”
“Who decides what you have a right to?”
He almost smiled, “If only it were that simple.”
“Maybe it is.”
And for one impossible moment, Seonghwa believed you. That was the tragedy. He believed you. The thought was so simple, so impossibly human. Maybe it could be that easy. Maybe a person did not need permission to want something beautiful. Maybe he was not destined only to watch life pass him by. Maybe, after centuries of saying goodbye, he could finally allow himself to stay. The hope was fragile and terrifying. And yet, for one fleeting moment, it was enough. His hand remained against your cheek, his thumb barely moving, as though he feared that even the slightest motion would break the illusion. You looked at him with such certainty that it almost hurt. As though you did not see the years behind his eyes. As though you did not see the graves. The names. The endless procession of people he had loved and lost. You only saw him.
And he had to let you go.
Not because he wanted to. Because the thought of you carrying the weight of him—the fear, the danger, the inevitable grief—was unbearable. He had spent centuries taking from life. Taking moments. Taking memories. Taking whatever little pieces of humanity he could hold onto. He would not take your future too. Slowly, he lowered his hand. The loss of warmth was immediate. And somehow, it was worse than any wound. “I am sorry.”
Your brows drew together. “For what?”
He looked at you, memorising everything he had no right to keep. The softness of your expression, the curiosity in your eyes. “I should not have allowed this evening to happen.”
You went quiet.
He hated that he was asking for something, he hated even more that you would give it. “I have lived long enough to know the consequences of wanting something I cannot keep.”
Your expression softened. “And what if I don’t care about the consequences?”
For a moment, Seonghwa saw another path. A different life, one where he stayed. One where he saw your smile again. One where he walked beside you through the years instead of watching you disappear from them. But he had seen that story before. He knew how it ended. The mortal heart was not built for eternity. Only moments. And perhaps that was what made them precious.
“You deserve a life untouched by my sorrow.”
“Is that what you think you are?” The question caught him off guard. “A sorrow?”
For a moment, he had no answer. Because once, long ago, he had been a man. Then he had become something else. Something caught between existence and absence, something that survived. “Sometimes,” he admitted quietly, “I think that is all I have been for a very long time.”
“You don’t have to be.”
His eyes closed, only briefly because if he looked at you too long, he would fail. He knew it. He would choose selfishness, he would choose one more night. One more conversation. One more morning he had no right to hope for. And he could not do that. Not to you. Not when you had given him the greatest gift anyone had given him in decades. You had reminded him he was still capable of feeling. He would not punish you for it. His eyes opened. The decision was made. “Look at me.”
Your gaze met his.
The command was softer this time, not an order but a farewell. The world seemed to quiet around you. Everything faded. “I want you to listen carefully,” his voice was barely above a whisper. “You will remember tonight. You will remember the music,” a pause, “the rain against the windows,” another, “the taste of your drink,” his gaze never left yours. “You will remember that you had a wonderful evening,” the smallest fracture appeared in his composure. “But…” His voice softened. “You will not remember me,” the words hurt more coming out than he had imagined.
“Why?”
The question was so simple yet his throat tightened. Because you had asked the one thing he could not answer without breaking.
Because I love you. Because you are the first person in half a century who made me wish for another day. Because I would rather disappear from your memory than become the reason your life changes forever.
His thumb brushed once against your cheek, the last touch, last thing he would allow himself. “I am sorry.”
“You will continue living, you will see places you have never seen, walk streets in cities you have yet to discover.”
The words became harder to say.
“You will meet people who will change your life,” but he continued. “You will fall in love,” his expression softened. “More than once, perhaps,” a tiny, sorrowful smile. “You will be loved in return,” his fingers brushed gently against your hand. “You will grow old surrounded by people you love.” The ache in his chest was unbearable but he endured it. Because this was what love was supposed to be. Not possession, not keeping. Letting someone go where they could be happiest. “You will have a long life,” his voice almost broke, “a beautiful one.” The final words left him barely above a whisper. “One that you will cherish.”
The compulsion settled gently, not like a command but like falling asleep. Your eyes softened, the tension left your shoulders, and Seonghwa watched the impossible happen. The evening remained. The memories remained. Everything remained. Except him. He stepped back and for a moment, you simply looked at him. Not knowing why your heart hurt. Not knowing why saying goodbye to a stranger felt like mourning something you had lost. Then you smiled and Seonghwa knew he had made the right choice.
You deserved every beautiful thing waiting for you.
Even if none of those things included him.
“Goodbye,” the word was barely audible but he knew you heard it even if you would never remember.
And as the city swallowed the last trace of your footsteps, Seonghwa finally understood that immortality was not the curse of never dying—it was the curse of remembering everything worth living for.
He had spent a century longing for the end, never knowing the cruelest punishment would be finding a reason to remain.
in which Seonghwa cant get enough of Mingi's little sister (continuation)
park seonghwa x fem!reader (third person)
explicit sexual content / smut, secret relationship, alcohol consumption, verbal aggression, physical violence, fighting, assault, blood, intense family conflict, betrayal of trust, anger issues, possessive behavior from both parties, implied controlling behavior from mingi, angst. mdni, ateez member mentioned
part one
well hello hello, how have you been?? i was reading my work while sorting out my files on my laptop and read part one of this fic, and even though it’s been literal months since I posted it — and despite the fact that I’m right in the middle of university midterms — I couldn’t help myself and ended up writing part two. so enjoy this angsty chapter. i honestly had fun writing this, so i hope you like it!! comment your opinion about it, and my inbox is always open for everyone!
wc: 6,4k
After that night someone would expect that they wouldn’t continue this, that they would break it off for the sake of her brother, his best friend since childhood. But no. What happened between them that night changed the shape of things — not just because it was their first time crossing that line, but because neither of them could pretend it hadn’t meant something more. They kept it quiet, kept it hidden, moving carefully around Mingi like a fragile fault line, pretending nothing had changed while everything had. It was secret smiles over breakfast, late-night texts, soft laughter muffled into pillows, and the ache of wanting to reach for each other in plain sight and not being able to. Because Seonghwa had spent years hiding his love for her that now after having her whole, he couldn't stop. And he didn't want to.
That’s how they ended up here. He had her spread out on his bed, worshiping her body.
"Fucking perfect," he breathed.
Her cheeks flushed, but the way he looked at her — like she was the most precious, beautiful thing in the world — made her feel bold. She reached out, grabbing at his shirt and tugging it over his head, revealing his toned chest and abs that glistened slightly under the warm lights. She had simply come over for dinner with the excuse she was going out with her best friend.
"You're not so bad yourself," she whispered playfully.
That was the last bit of restraint Seonghwa had.
He pushed her back against the bed, his body covering hers, his lips trailing down her neck, biting and sucking as he made his way lower. She arched into him, gasping as his mouth found the sensitive spot on her collarbone, his hands gripping her hips tightly.
"Seonghwa—" she moaned softly, her voice shaking.
"I love when you say my name like that," he growled against her skin, his breath hot, making her shiver.
His fingers quickly worked at unbuttoning her jeans, tugging them down her legs in one swift motion, leaving her in nothing but her panties. His eyes darkened even more, the hunger in them undeniable.
“You’re driving me insane,” he groaned. “I need you so bad, angel.”
Without waiting, his long digits slipped beneath the fabric of her panties, finding her already wet for him. He let out a deep, guttural groan at how ready she was.
“Fuck… you’re soaked.”
She bit her lip, embarrassed but turned on beyond words, her hips grinding against his hand as he circled her clit gently at first, then with more pressure, watching her squirm under him.
She moaned louder, her hands gripping at the sheets beside her as her thighs trembled.
Seonghwa couldn’t take it anymore.
He dragged her panties off and quickly unbuckled his jeans, pushing them down with his boxers. His hard length sprang free, and her eyes widened slightly at the sight of him again — thick, veiny, and already leaking at the tip.
“Spread those legs for me, baby,” he commanded gently, voice breathless.
She obeyed immediately, breath hitching as he lined himself up, his tip nudging at her entrance, teasing her. He looked into her eyes, waiting for that tiny nod of permission. When she nodded, he pushed in slowly, stretching her inch by inch, both of them moaning at the overwhelming pleasure.
"God, you're so tight," he groaned through gritted teeth, burying himself fully inside her.
She gasped, her hands flying to his back, nails digging into his skin as she adjusted to his size. Seonghwa kept still for a moment, peppering kisses all over her face, whispering sweet nothings, until she was ready.
And when she started moving her hips, he lost control.
He began thrusting into her, first slow and deep, savoring every second, but as her moans grew louder, his pace quickened, becoming rougher, more desperate.
The headboard knocked softly against the wall as they moved, and he buried his face into her neck to muffle his own grunts. She whimpered, biting her lip as her walls clenched around him.
“You feel so fucking good—so warm, so perfect for me. My good girl,” he praised, watching her fall apart under him.
Her body started trembling again, her climax building fast under his relentless rhythm. She moaned into his hand, her body arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed through her. Seonghwa followed seconds after, groaning into her neck as he spilled inside her, his body shaking from the intensity.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚
The soft patter of rain against the windows was the first thing she registered as she slowly stirred awake. She blinked a few times, her eyes adjusting to the low light as her fingers curled into the soft fabric of Seonghwa’s sheets. The first thing that greeted her senses was him — his scent, his warmth lingering in the empty space beside her. That warm, musky, slightly sweet smell of his skin mixed with faint hints of cedarwood and fresh laundry made her melt a little deeper into the mattress for a moment.
But he wasn’t in bed.
She rolled over, stretching gently, a small whimper escaping her as her body reminded her of the night before. She was still a little sore — pleasantly so. Her thighs tingled from how rough and thorough he’d been, her lips still tender from his endless kisses. She smiled, cheeks flushing as every little detail from last night replayed in her head like a secret movie only she could watch.
Biting her lip, she finally pushed herself up and carefully slipped out of bed, still wearing his oversized t-shirt that hung mid-thigh, swallowing her frame. She padded barefoot across the wooden floors, quietly following the faint sizzling sound coming from the kitchen.
There he was.
Seonghwa stood by the stove, dressed in a pair of grey sweats and a plain black t-shirt that clung just right to his frame. His hair was slightly messy, pushed back with one hand as he focused on flipping pancakes on a skillet. The kitchen was dimly lit, with only a few warm lights under the cabinets casting a soft glow over him.
She stood there for a moment, just watching him, her secret lover, her heart swelling at how domestic he looked. This man — who just hours ago had been worshiping her body, whispering filthy praises in her ear — was now here, barefoot in his kitchen, making her breakfast while rain fell outside.
Her stomach flutered uncontrollably.
Without thinking much, she tiptoed toward him, silent as a cat, and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, pressing her face into his back. He jumped slightly, chuckling as he carefully moved the spatula out of the way and reached down to hold her hands where they rested on his stomach.
“You scared me, baby,” he said, his voice low and warm.
She giggled against him, tightening her hold as she swayed them gently side to side. “M’ sorry,” she whispered playfully. “Couldn’t resist.”
Seonghwa let out a breathy laugh and turned his head slightly, catching a glimpse of her through the corner of his eye. “How did you sleep, hmm?”
“Perfect,” she murmured. “Woke up and you weren’t there, though.”
“I couldn’t let you wake up without breakfast,” he smiled. “Besides… I figured you’d need the energy today.”
Her cheeks flushed instantly at his teasing tone, and she lightly slapped his stomach with her palm, making him chuckle even more.
Seonghwa turned in her arms slowly, now facing her, his hands resting on her waist. He took in the sight of her wearing his oversized shirt, her hair still a little messy from sleep, her bare legs peeking out underneath — and his heart clenched. She looked like she belonged here. Like she belonged to him.
“You’re too cute for your own good,” he whispered, leaning down to steal a soft, lingering kiss from her lips.
Her hands slid up his chest instinctively, returning his kiss with a small smile. “You spoil me.”
“I plan to,” he whispered against her lips before reluctantly pulling away. “Go sit. It’s almost ready.”
She obeyed, walking to his small kitchen table, admiring the way he moved around so effortlessly. The entire apartment smelled of freshly brewed coffee, vanilla from the pancakes, and a hint of rain filtering through the cracked window. Seonghwa plated their breakfast, joining her at the table with two steaming mugs of coffee, black for him and sweetened for her — just like he remembered. The pancakes were topped with fresh berries and a drizzle of syrup.
“You really didn’t have to go all out like this,” she said with a mouthful, cheeks slightly puffed.
“I wanted to,” he replied softly, his eyes never leaving her face. “You deserve to be taken care of.”
After breakfast she went to the bathroom to take a quick shower, wanting to freshen up since she never washed herself last night, and he stayed in the living room casually scrolling through his phone as he listened to her faint humming behind the closed bathroom door, his heart full, but his body still on edge from how close and domestic everything felt.
But then — A sudden, loud knock at the door.
He froze. Completely froze.
His entire body stiffened as the blood drained from his face for a second. His first instinct was panic. Mingi? God forbid it was Mingi. The knock came again, followed by an all-too-familiar voice.
“Hyung! Open up, I know you’re inside. I saw your car.” It was San.
Seonghwa exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a brief second in relief, but only slightly. While it wasn’t Mingi, it was still San — and San knowing she was here was almost as dangerous. He turned his head toward the bathroom — the water was still running; she hadn’t heard anything.
“Shit,” he whispered under his breath before quietly walking to the door, cracking it open just a bit.
“What do you want?” he whispered sharply.
San gave him a cocky grin. “I was around and i wanted to see if you wanted to grab lunch or something.”
“Bad timing, San,” Seonghwa muttered. “You need to go.”
San tilted his head. “What? Why? You sick or something?”
“I have… someone over.”
San blinked. His eyes widened a little as his grin grew tenfold. “Someone? As in a girl?” His voice was already teasing, his tone laced with intrigue.
Seonghwa’s jaw tightened. “Yes, and that’s exactly why you need to leave.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” San laughed, already pushing the door open with no invitation, stepping inside and kicking off his shoes. “Now I have to stay. This is gold. Seonghwa, you never have girls over. Who is she?”
Seonghwa closed the door behind him and sighed, running a hand down his face, desperately trying to think of how to get San out before she came out. San, oblivious to the growing panic in his friend, casually made his way to the kitchen and grabbed one of the remaining pancakes off the plate.
“You’re unbelievable,” Seonghwa muttered, following him.
San sat himself comfortably on the couch, grinning. “I won’t bother you long, hyung, I just want to meet this mystery girl—”
“You won’t be meeting anyone,” Seonghwa interrupted, voice sharper this time, lowering his tone as if to keep the conversation between them. “Just go. Please.”
San just shook his head, taking a bite of the pancake. “Nah. Now I really want to see who finally managed to get Park Seonghwa wrapped around their little finger.”
Seonghwa was about to answer again when the bathroom door creaked open.
Both men turned their heads simultaneously.
She stepped out into the hallway, looking down at her phone, completely unaware of the conversation that had been taking place just outside. She was still wearing Seonghwa’s oversized t-shirt that hung far too low on her bare thighs, her hair slightly damp and messy from her shower, her skin glowing from her freshly applied skincare. When the young woman’s head finally lifted when she sensed the heavy silence, her wide eyes landed right on San sitting on Seonghwa’s couch, staring at her with his mouth hanging slightly open.
Time stopped.
She froze, eyes going wide as her stomach dropped. “Oh… my God.”
San’s pancake froze mid-air. His eyes blinked slowly, utterly stunned. Neither of them moved for a full second, both processing the shocking reality of this exact moment. Her face turned crimson instantly, heart racing wildly. She looked like a deer caught in headlights. She instinctively grabbed the bottom of Seonghwa’s shirt and pulled it down, even though it didn’t help much.
San broke the silence first, his eyes slowly widening as everything clicked in his head. “Wait— Mingi’s little sister? That’s who you have over?” His gaze darted to Seonghwa in absolute disbelief, as if his brain was short-circuiting.
“San—” Seonghwa started, his tone warning, stepping in between them like a protective barrier.
San immediately got up, still stunned. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re sleeping with her? Hyung!” His voice was half-whispered, half-shouted, trying not to be too loud but failing miserably.
Her hands gripped the hem of Seonghwa’s shirt tighter as her face burned hotter.
“It’s not like that—” Seonghwa tried, but even to his own ears it sounded weak.
“Oh, don’t even try that one,” San hissed, pacing for a second, both hands now on top of his head. He turned back to Seonghwa, voice urgent now. “Does Mingi know?”
“No, San. Of course not,” Seonghwa said sharply.
“Oh my God,” San breathed. “If he finds out, Seonghwa— he’ll kill you. I mean it. Like… actually.”
“I know.”
San rubbed his temples, trying to process it all. But then, after a few moments of pacing and a deep exhale, his expression slowly shifted from panic to something else — pure mischief.
He looked at her again, then at Seonghwa. “I mean… honestly, I should be mad but… you’ve been into her for years, haven’t you?”
Both she and Seonghwa froze again.
San grinned when they didn’t answer, reading their silence perfectly. “Jesus Christ. You two…” He let out a laugh, almost in disbelief. “This is insane.”
“San, please…” Seonghwa said softly, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to salvage some control over the spiraling situation. “You cannot tell Mingi.”
San stared at him for a moment, lips pursed. “Obviously I’m not gonna tell him, hyung — I’m not suicidal.” He glanced back at the girl, his teasing side fully emerging now that the initial shock was wearing off. “But, damn… you’re braver than me.”
She buried her face in her hands, groaning. “I cannot believe this.”
San finally let out a full laugh, shaking his head. “Well. My Saturday just got a hell of a lot more interesting.”
Seonghwa sighed deeply, his entire body still tense as he looked over at her, silently apologizing with his eyes. She peeked at him through her fingers, face still beet red, but her lips curled into a tiny, flustered smile.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚
Now with one of her brother’s friends knowing, things got more complicated. Two months. It had been two whole months since that first night with Seonghwa, and somehow, against all odds, they hadn’t gotten caught. Not once. The secret was burning under her skin like fire, this deliciously reckless thing that left her dizzy every time she looked at Mingi across the table and acted like she wasn’t sneaking off to his best friend’s apartment at every given chance.
Because Seonghwa? He was addictive.
It wasn’t just the fact that their sex life was amazing. It wasn’t just the way he could have her falling apart in record time, with his voice in her ear telling her she was his good girl, or the way he pulled her onto his lap whenever she tried to be stubborn, kissing her senseless until she melted for him.
No.
It was the way he treated her.
Like she was the most precious thing in the world. Like the ground she walked on deserved to be worshiped because she was on it. He spoiled her in ways she didn’t even know she craved—making her breakfast after long nights, running warm baths for her when he knew she was sore, tucking her into his bed when she was exhausted, kissing the top of her head before turning off the lights.
Seonghwa was the kind of man who would drop everything to come get her if she so much as texted him that she was upset. The kind of man who remembered every little thing she said, who would stop in the middle of the day just to buy the exact chocolate she had casually mentioned liking. God, that woman had him wrapped around her little finger. She knew it, too. One tilt of her head, one pout of her lips, one sweet “please, Hwa?” in that soft little voice, and he was already saying yes before she even finished the sentence.
And Mingi?
Poor, clueless Mingi had no idea.
No idea that when his sister said she was going “out with friends,” and kissed his cheek goodbye, she was actually sliding into his best friend’s car, giggling as he kissed her knuckles at red lights. No idea that his best friend had his baby sister in his lap half the nights of the week.
And she was starting to realize something terrifying. Something thrilling.
She was starting to realize she loved him.
It hit her in small moments. Like when Seonghwa leaned against the kitchen counter one Sunday morning, hair messy, wearing nothing but sweatpants, scrolling, while humming softly under his breath. Or when he kissed her cheek before she left, even if they had been tangled up in his bed for hours, like he couldn’t help but have one more kiss before she walked out the door, like he would never see her again. Or when she laughed so hard she couldn’t breathe and he just sat there staring at her, eyes soft, like she had hung the stars in the sky.
Everything was perfect. Until that night.
⋆. 𐙚 ˚
Mingi said he would go out with friends. Seonghwa would go too because he hadn't seen everyone in a long time. He had been texting her because truth was, he missed her, because he hadn't seen her for a couple of days. The bar was crowded, music was thumping faintly in the background, and Seonghwa was sitting with Mingi, San, Wooyoung, Hongjoong, Yeosang, Jongho c, and Yunho crammed around a long table. Everyone was laughing about something Wooyoung said, shots of soju already lining the center of the table, but Seonghwa’s hand kept drifting to his phone every few minutes.
Mingi noticed. “Who are you texting?” he asked, smirking, his words slightly slurred from the alcohol he’d already downed.
“No one,” Seonghwa said smoothly, slipping the phone face down on the table.
San, sitting on Seonghwa’s other side, smirked knowingly. He knew exactly who Seonghwa was texting, but he wasn’t about to out his friend like that.
“You’re acting weird tonight,” Wooyoung teased, reaching for another shot. “Like you’ve got a secret or something.”
Seonghwa just smirked faintly, shaking his head. “I’m fine.” But he had kept telling himself he was going to leave early—he needed to leave early—but Wooyoung had practically locked an arm around his shoulder like a trap.
“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” Wooyoung had grinned at him, shoving another shot glass across the table toward him. “You can’t leave yet. The night’s barely started.”
“I have stuff to do tomorrow,” Seonghwa muttered, though he didn’t reach for the shot glass.
“Yeah? Like what?” Wooyoung raised his brows dramatically. “Sitting at home alone? Come on. Stay. Relax. Don’t be boring.”
And that was how Seonghwa ended up still there an hour later, watching everyone else get steadily drunker while his own glass stayed mostly untouched. He sipped just enough not to draw suspicion—he knew how to play it off—but his mind kept wandering back to his girlfriend. San was already half gone, leaning across the table to shout something in Yeosang’s ear, who wasn’t much better off. Mingi was pounding the table laughing at something Yunho said, Hongjoong was trying and failing to look like the responsible one, and Jongho just kept shaking his head like the designated adult.
The music wasn’t too loud in here—not enough to drown out the chaos happening at their table—but the place was packed enough that people were bumping into each other trying to get through, laughter and voices rising over the low thrum of bass in the background.
Seonghwa was laughing now too despite himself, watching San attempt to flirt horribly with the waitress bringing their drinks while Wooyoung encouraged him like a terrible wingman.
“Stop drinking,” Hongjoong told San when the next round arrived.
“I’m fine,” San said, words slightly slurred as he reached for the glass anyway.
“You’re not fine,” Hongjoong said sharply. “You’re going to embarrass yourself.”
“I,” San said loudly, pointing at himself with a dramatic flourish, “am amazing at holding my liquor. Watch me.” But within ten minutes, San was bantering with everyone. The people at the next table. A couple walking by. Even the bartender at one point.
“Sit down,” Wooyoung said, laughing so hard he nearly spilled his drink. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.”
San sat down—but only to turn on their table instead. “Alright,” he said, squinting around at them like he was about to deliver the punchline of the century. “Who here thinks they’re better looking than me? Be honest.”
Yeosang immediately raised his hand.
“Wrong,” San said flatly, then turned to Seonghwa, eyes narrowing playfully. “What about you, Mr. Perfect Face?”
“I am better looking than you,” Seonghwa said smoothly, smirking faintly into his glass.
“Ohhhhhhh,” Mingi howled, pounding his fist on the table.
“FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT,” Wooyoung chanted like a five-year-old.
San leaned closer, grinning. “At least I can talk to girls without sounding like a robot.”
Seonghwa didn’t even flinch. “At least I can actually get girls,” he said lightly, sipping his drink.
The table roared even louder. San clutched his chest like Seonghwa had mortally wounded him.
“Damn,” Yeosang muttered, trying not to laugh.
San, however, wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. He was drunk enough now that his mouth was moving faster than his brain, words spilling out with no filter.
“At least I,” he said loudly, pointing at himself again, “am not fucking and secretly dating Mingi’s little sister.”
Everything stopped. It was like someone had cut the sound in the entire bar.
Seonghwa froze completely, the words hitting him like a punch to the chest. He blinked, slowly, heart lurching violently as his brain tried to process what just happened.
The table went dead silent.
Even Wooyoung’s grin faltered, the laughter dying on his lips. Yeosang’s eyes went wide. Hongjoong’s head snapped toward San like he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.
And Mingi…
Mingi was staring at San with this confused, sharp look, like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly but knew, deep down, that he probably had.
“What?” Mingi said finally, voice low but carrying over the table.
San, still grinning like an idiot, didn’t stop.
“Yeah,” he said loudly, like he was telling the funniest joke in the world. “Seonghwa’s sleeping with your sister. He’s been sneaking around for weeks—”
“San,” Wooyoung cut in sharply, voice dropping low. “Shut the fuck up.”
San turned to him, confused, like he didn’t get why everyone suddenly looked like they’d been slapped.
“What?” San said again, blinking. “It’s true. They’ve been—”
“San.” Wooyoung’s voice was firm this time, almost angry.
And that was when San finally stopped, blinking around at the table like he was only just now realizing the weight of what he’d said.
But it was too late. Because the entire table was dead silent. Because Mingi was staring at Seonghwa now, eyes narrowing slowly like storm clouds rolling in. Because Seonghwa hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, hadn’t even breathed since the words left San’s mouth.
Seonghwa could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, thudding so hard he thought maybe everyone could hear it. He didn’t even look at Mingi yet—he couldn’t.
San was blinking slowly, swaying a little in his seat, realization creeping across his face in fragments as though his drunk brain couldn’t put the pieces together fast enough.
“Wait,” Mingi said finally, voice low, steady in that terrifying way people get when they’re holding back something much bigger. He leaned forward slightly. “What did you just say?”
No one answered.
Yeosang shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Wooyoung’s head was in his hands. Hongjoong was muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like I told you to stop drinking, while Jongho sat there, stone-faced, staring at the table like it had personally offended him.
San, because he apparently wanted to dig his grave a little deeper before jumping in, opened his mouth again.
“I just said,” he started, pointing vaguely in Seonghwa’s direction, “that he’s been—”
“San.” Wooyoung’s voice cracked like a whip this time, sharp enough to make San flinch. “Shut. Up.”
Finally—finally—San seemed to realize something was very, very wrong.
The grin slipped off his face as he looked around at everyone staring at him like he’d just set the building on fire.
“What?” San said, softer now, like maybe he could backpedal if he just acted confused enough.
Mingi was still staring at Seonghwa.
Seonghwa could feel it now, that heavy, burning stare, even though he hadn’t lifted his head yet. His hand tightened around his glass because it gave him something to do, something to hold onto as the floor opened up beneath him.
“Is that true?” Mingi asked finally. The words were quiet. Too quiet.
Seonghwa dragged his gaze up slowly, because he couldn’t avoid it forever, because Mingi deserved at least that much.
Their eyes locked across the table, and Seonghwa felt it—the gut-punch of guilt, the weight of every single thing he hadn’t told him crashing down all at once.
Mingi’s expression didn’t give him anything. Just this blank, unreadable look that was somehow worse than if he’d started yelling already.
“Answer me,” Mingi said, still calm, which was worse. So much worse.
Around them, the table was holding its breath.
Seonghwa opened his mouth, but nothing came out at first.
Because what was he supposed to say? That yes, he’d been secretly dating Mingi’s little sister for two months? That yes, he’d been in love with her this whole time and hadn’t said anything because he didn’t know how? That San just detonated the entire thing like it was nothing?
He managed, finally, “Mingi—”
But Mingi was already leaning back, shaking his head slightly like he didn’t want to hear it yet.
“Are you serious right now?” he asked, voice still steady but low enough that Seonghwa had to strain to hear him over the noise of the bar around them.
“Mingi, let me explain—”
“Explain what?” Mingi snapped suddenly, voice cracking sharp enough that people at the next table actually turned to look. Seonghwa shut his mouth instantly.
“Mingi,” Hongjoong said carefully, standing too, like maybe he could keep this from turning into a full-blown scene. “Sit down. Let’s just—”
“No,” Mingi snapped, cutting him off, eyes still locked on Seonghwa. “How long?”
Seonghwa hesitated, and that was his mistake, because Mingi let out this sharp, disbelieving laugh like that told him everything already.
“Unbelievable,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair like he was trying to physically get the anger out somehow.
“Mingi,” Seonghwa tried again, standing slowly now too because sitting while Mingi was pacing like that felt like putting his head on a chopping block. “Listen. I was going to tell you—”
“When?” Mingi whipped around, voice raising over the music now. “When were you planning on telling me, huh? After sneaking around behind my back for months?”
Seonghwa flinched slightly, not at the volume but at the betrayal in his voice.
“Mingi,” Seonghwa said again, quieter this time, trying to keep his voice even, calm, because one of them had to be. “I care about her. It’s not—this isn’t just some random thing. I didn’t mean for it to go like this.”
Mingi had been holding back, even with his voice rising, even with his chest heaving like he was swallowing down the fire boiling in his gut.
But then Seonghwa said it—I care about her.
And that was it.
Something in Mingi snapped like a rubber band stretched too tight. His whole face twisted into something Seonghwa had never seen before—anger, betrayal, disbelief—and then he was moving before anyone could stop him.
“You don’t give a fuck, do you?” Mingi snarled, his voice cracking loud enough for the entire bar to hear now. “I told you she was off limits. You knew she was off limits, and you went behind my back anyway?”
“Mingi—”
“No, shut the fuck up!” Mingi lunged, shoving the table out of the way so hard glasses tipped and beer spilled everywhere. The music barely covered the crash as the bottles hit the floor.
And then his fist connected hard across Seonghwa’s jaw. The sound was so loud it cut through the music, through the crowd chatter. The whole bar turned to look, heads swiveling in unison.
“Holy shit,” Wooyoung muttered, half in shock, half impressed, even as Hongjoong grabbed him by the arm and hissed for him to shut up.
Seonghwa staggered back, the taste of blood sharp in his mouth, eyes going wide—not because Mingi hit him, but because Mingi’s words burned worse than the punch.
“You think this is just about you?” Mingi was yelling now, furious, pacing forward again. “You just wanted to get your dick wet, is that it? With my sister?”
That did it.
Seonghwa’s jaw tightened, his chest heaving. “Don’t talk about her like that.”
“Oh, now you care how I talk?” Mingi shoved him hard, sending him stumbling back against a chair. “You go behind my back, sneak around with her for months, and now you’re gonna get mad about words?”
“I said,” Seonghwa gritted out, finally shoving him back this time, his own temper boiling now, “don’t talk about her like that.”
And then it was chaos.
Mingi swung again, this one wilder, fueled by pure rage, and Seonghwa caught his wrist before it landed, shoving him back so hard they both crashed into another table. Drinks went flying. Someone screamed.
“Both of you, knock it off!” Hongjoong was yelling, but neither of them heard him.
“YOU THINK THIS IS A JOKE?” Mingi roared, trying to break free from the arms grabbing at him now—Yeosang, Wooyoung, even Jongho trying to hold him back. “I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU, SEONGHWA. SHE’S OFF LIMITS. SHE’S BEEN OFF LIMITS SINCE DAY ONE.”
“She’s not just your sister!” Seonghwa snapped back, trying to shove the guys off him so he could move, eyes blazing now. “She’s not some kid you get to control anymore, Mingi—”
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!” Mingi bellowed, lunging again when he broke free, and then they were both on the floor, fists flying, chairs scraping as people scrambled to get out of the way.
The bartender was yelling now too, telling them to take it outside, but no one was listening. The music had stopped. The whole bar was staring. Seonghwa caught another punch to the side before finally swinging back, his own anger breaking through because Mingi’s words wouldn’t stop—
“—JUST A PIECE OF ASS TO YOU, HUH?—”
“—SHE MEANS MORE TO ME THAN YOU THINK!” Seonghwa roared back, landing a punch of his own this time, his voice raw, desperate, like he needed Mingi to hear it over the chaos.
“—YOU’RE DEAD, SEONGHWA, YOU HEAR ME? DEAD—”
“STOP IT!” Hongjoong barked, but no one was listening because now half the bar was trying to separate them, hands everywhere, pulling, shoving, people yelling over each other. “Get them the fuck out!” the bartender screamed finally, pointing toward the door.
And then, somehow, they were all being shoved out into the street—Mingi still yelling, Seonghwa shoving back, Wooyoung swearing under his breath, San stumbling drunk and looking like he wanted to disappear into the pavement, Hongjoong apologizing to literally everyone in sight while dragging Yeosang and Yunho with him.
“Stay the fuck away from her,” Mingi spat, chest heaving, pointing a shaking finger at Seonghwa like it took everything in him not to swing again. “I swear to God, Seonghwa, you go near her again, and I’ll kill you.”
Seonghwa wanted to yell, to defend himself, to shove Mingi back for everything he’d just thrown at him — but underneath the adrenaline pumping through his veins was something else.
Guilt.
He knew he should apologize. He knew this looked exactly like the betrayal Mingi thought it was, even if that wasn’t what it was in Seonghwa’s head, in his heart.
But Mingi wasn’t giving him the chance.
“How long?” Mingi barked, spitting the words like they were poison in his mouth. “How long have you been sneaking around with my sister?”
Seonghwa hesitated. It was only for half a second, but Mingi saw it — and that was all it took for him to shove him hard, both hands flat against Seonghwa’s chest, knocking him back a step.
Seonghwa wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand, jaw clenched tight. “It started at the party,” he said finally, his voice rough, low. “The one you threw a couple months ago.”
Mingi went very still.
And then he laughed — a short, sharp, disbelieving sound — before his face twisted into something ugly and furious, like Seonghwa had just spat in his face.
“That party?” Mingi repeated, his voice dropping into something quieter but way more dangerous. “The party I let you into my house, trusted you around her, and you—”
“Mingi, listen—”
“You were fucking my sister behind my back this whole time?” Mingi’s voice exploded again, the words ragged and hoarse. “You lied to me. To me, Seonghwa. I trusted you more than anyone.”
“Mingi, I care about her,” Seonghwa bit out, finally snapping back because he couldn’t take the way Mingi was talking like Lily was some secret fling. “I love her.”
That did it.
Another punch launched at him, so fast he barely had time to brace before Mingi’s fist cracked against his cheek again, the pain blinding for a second.
“ENOUGH!” Hongjoong roared, finally grabbing Seonghwa from behind while Wooyoung and Yeosang shoved against Mingi’s chest to hold him back.
“LET ME GO!” Mingi yelled, fighting against them, eyes blazing like he wanted to rip free and tear Seonghwa apart. “I’M NOT DONE WITH HIM!”
“You’re done tonight!” Hongjoong snapped, shoving Seonghwa back so hard his feet scraped on the pavement. “Before the cops get called, for fuck’s sake.”
Mingi was breathing like he’d just run a marathon, shoving away the hands holding him back, glaring at Seonghwa like his stare alone could kill him.
“This isn’t over,” he spat finally, voice shaking with rage. “You hear me, Seonghwa? It’s not fucking over.”
“Mingi, just listen—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Mingi barked, shoving away Yeosang when he tried to calm him down, his face red, jaw tight. “I don’t want to hear another word from you. You stay the hell away from me until I figure out how I’m not gonna murder you.”
⋆. 𐙚 ˚
The second Mingi disappeared down the street, the tension in the air didn’t loosen — it got worse. Seonghwa stood there, chest heaving, his lip split wide open and stinging every time he exhaled too hard. His jaw ached where Mingi had landed his punch, and his knuckles were raw, skin peeling where they’d cracked against bone. He wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, tasting copper on his tongue, the throbbing in his cheek already promising a bruise by morning.
And then his eyes snapped to San.
San, who was standing off to the side looking pale as hell, still frozen in the same spot like he didn’t know whether to run or throw up.
“Dude,” Seonghwa barked, voice hoarse but furious, pointing at him with a trembling hand. “What the fuck, San? You promised. You promised you wouldn’t say a word.”
San blinked like someone had shaken him out of a daze. “I—I didn’t think he’d—”
“You didn’t think?” Seonghwa’s voice cracked sharp, echoing against the brick walls of the alley behind the bar. “You opened your mouth, San. You think Mingi would’ve found out tonight if you just kept it shut?!”
San looked guilty, eyes darting everywhere but Seonghwa’s face, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets like he was hoping to disappear into the sidewalk.
But before Seonghwa could say more, Wooyoung was there, stepping between them, his voice sharp but quieter. “Okay, stop screaming at him, this isn’t all on San,” he snapped, eyes hard on Seonghwa. “What the hell, man? How long has this been going on?”
Hongjoong was right behind him, arms crossed, face like thunder. “He’s right. You’ve been hiding this for months?”
“It’s not like that,” he finally managed, voice rough, sounding too much like he was pleading. “It wasn’t—”
“Not like that?!” Wooyoung cut in, eyebrows raised like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You went behind his back, Seonghwa. Mingi’s back. His sister, bro.”
Seonghwa dragged both hands down his face hard, pacing away from them because he couldn’t stand the way they were all looking at him. Like he was the villain here. Like he didn’t already feel sick enough.
He turned back sharply. “You think I don’t know what this looks like?” he snapped, pointing at his own chest, his voice loud again. “You think I don’t get it? I tried telling himt—” He broke off, rnning a hand through his hair, yanking at the roots like it would calm him down. “God, this is such a fucking mess.”
And then it hit him. Mingi. Mingi was going home. Straight home. Straight to her.
Seonghwa froze mid-step, pulling his phone out so fast it almost slipped from his raw knuckles. He unlocked it with shaking fingers, scrolling to her name, hitting call.
It rang. And rang. No answer. She was probably asleep. Unaware of what just happened. Of what was about to happen.
->Starring: OT8!AteezxReader
->Genre: Angst with comfort,
->Cw: Someone says shitty...., more angst but, as the title says, with apologies
Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist
Seonghwa:
It had been days since you’d spoken. Really spoken.
The texts were dry, short, practical. The calls were missed. The weight of his last words, “You’re just too clingy sometimes”, hadn’t faded. They echoed in your head, over and over, every time you hovered over his contact name, too afraid to reach out again and be met with silence.
So when the knock came at your door well past midnight, you hesitated.
But you knew that knock. Soft. Hesitant. Him.
You opened the door to find Seonghwa standing there, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, eyes downcast like he didn’t know if he was allowed to look at you.
“I shouldn’t be here this late,” he said quietly. “But I didn’t know where else to go.”
You said nothing. Just stepped aside, letting him in.
He didn’t sit. He hovered in the center of the room like he wasn’t sure he had the right to make himself comfortable.
“I’ve been thinking a lot,” he said finally. “About what I said. About how I made you feel.”
You crossed your arms over your chest. “Took you long enough.”
“I know,” he whispered.
Silence. He fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve, eyes flickering to you.
“I always thought that loving someone meant being strong, being steady, not depending on anyone too much. So when you wanted more, more time, more attention, more of me. I told myself you were being too much because I didn’t want to admit I wasn’t giving enough.”
He looked at you then, and his eyes were tired. But soft.
“You weren’t clingy,” he said. “You were present. You loved me so openly, and I made you feel like that was a flaw.”
Your throat tightened.
He stepped forward slowly. “I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to dial your love down to be enough for me.”
Your eyes burned, but you didn’t look away.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me right now,” he said, voice cracking. “But if you let me — I want to learn how to show up the way you do. Not just when it’s convenient. All the time.”
He finally sat, carefully, like he was afraid he might break the air between you.
“I don’t want to lose someone who gives love so fearlessly. Just because I was too afraid to give it back the same way.”
You didn’t speak right away.
But when you reached for his hand, he took it like it was the first thing grounding him in days.
Hongjoong:
It started with a message.
Not a call. Not a knock at your door. Just a text. Short. Almost too casual.
Hongjoong [2:03 PM]:
hey… can we talk?
maybe dinner tonight? my treat
You read it, then locked your phone.
He didn’t follow up with a second message. No explanation. No “I’m sorry.” Just a quiet request to meet, like that was enough to erase the weeks of feeling like you were always the one chasing after him.
Like his “is this about me not texting you back fast enough?” hadn’t gutted you the last time you saw him.
The silence that followed your heartbreak had been intentional. For once, you weren’t going to rush in with understanding or comfort. Not this time.
So you didn’t reply.
Not for ten minutes.
Not for an hour.
Not for four.
On the other side of the screen, Hongjoong’s knee was bouncing under the studio desk. His phone sat beside him, screen dark, taunting him.
Four hours.
He’d stared at your name. At the “Read 2:04 PM” notification.
He’d wanted to wait you out, tell himself you were just busy. Tell himself that you’d always forgiven him before, even when you shouldn’t have. That this time would be no different.
But something in his chest started to crack. Something cold.
Because deep down, he knew.
He knew this time wasn’t like before.
He drove to your place without texting again. Parked outside. Waited. Then walked up and knocked on your door.
When you opened it, he saw the shift immediately. Your expression wasn’t angry. It wasn’t emotional. It was polite. Careful. Distant.
“Hey,” he said, trying to keep it light. “You got my message, right?”
You nodded once. “I did.”
“And…?”
“I wasn’t sure if I should go.”
The words were calm, flat, the same tone he used to take when you’d ask if he was free and he’d say, “I’ll let you know.”
He swallowed. “I wanted to apologize.”
You didn’t step aside to let him in. You didn’t even shift your weight.
He fidgeted. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what I said. About how I dismissed you. About how you used to reach out to me all the time and I’d just… reply when I felt like it. If I replied at all.”
Silence.
“I thought I was just busy. I thought you’d understand. But the truth is, I took you for granted. I thought you’d always be there.”
You didn’t react. Not even a flinch.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “And then today… when you left me on read for hours…”
He let out a breath. “So this is what it feels like, huh?”
Your eyes flicked up at that. Something in your jaw shifted. But you still didn’t speak.
“I’m sorry I ever made you feel like you were too much. Like your love was inconvenient.”
His voice lowered.
“I miss you. And not just the version of you that always sent me good luck texts or made dinner reservations when I forgot, I miss the you who believed in me even when I didn’t show up for you.”
You leaned against the doorframe. Not moving. Not softening.
And that’s when he got it, really got it.
Because now, he was the one waiting. The one hoping for warmth. The one left on read.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me right now. You don’t have to be ready. But I want to fix this. I want to stop treating you like a second thought and start treating you like you deserve.”
He paused, swallowing hard.
“Dinner’s still on the table. If you’ll come.”
The silence stretched for a beat. Then two.
Finally, you opened the door just a little wider.
“Where?” you asked, voice quiet but steady.
He blinked. “What?”
“Where’s dinner?”
Hope bloomed fast in his chest, raw, real, and maybe still fragile, but there.
He gave a half-laugh, half-breath of disbelief. “Anywhere you want.”
You stepped inside to grab your jacket without another word. But the door stayed open behind you.
And for the first time in a long time, Hongjoong understood exactly what it meant when someone shows up even after being hurt.
Because you did.
And this time, so would he.
Yunho:
You hadn’t seen him since the day he ended things.
He hadn’t yelled. There weren’t tears or a dramatic scene. Just that same calm voice he always used, too calm, like he was trying to stay numb.
“Maybe we’re not right for each other anymore.”
You’d stood there frozen. Because it wasn’t a fight. There wasn’t something to argue against. He had just walked out. Quietly. Like it wouldn’t hurt forever.
And for the past three weeks, you’d done everything you could to keep moving, but your chest never stopped feeling heavy.
So when the knock came, you almost didn’t answer it. Some part of you still hoped it was him, but hoping hurt.
And yet… it was him.
Yunho stood outside your door, hood pulled up, cap low, eyes glassy and red-rimmed like he hadn’t slept in days. His breath fogged in the evening air, but he didn’t speak, not at first.
He just looked at you, mouth slightly parted, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed to be here.
“You left,” you said, voice low and flat.
“I know,” he whispered. “But I never really let go.”
You didn’t move. You didn’t invite him in. So he stood there, taking it, whatever you were ready to give, or not give at all.
“I broke up with you thinking it would make life easier,” he said. “That if we weren’t together, I’d have more time, less pressure, fewer expectations.”
He swallowed hard.
“But all I did was tear it apart. My days feel longer. My bed feels empty. And everything I used to love doesn’t make me feel anything now.”
You looked at him then, and the pain on his face nearly cracked you open.
“I kept telling myself you needed too much,” he went on, voice trembling. “But the truth is… I was the one who needed more. More patience. More strength. More you.”
His chest rose and fell shakily.
“You were never asking for too much. You just asked me to show up. To try. And I ran.”
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to crumble.
“I miss your voice in the morning. I miss your socks mixed in with mine. I miss knowing someone out there saw me, really saw me, and still stayed.”
His voice broke.
“I thought I could be okay without you. But I can’t. I don’t want to learn how.”
The silence between you buzzed like static.
“I’m not asking to erase what I did. I’m not asking you to forget how I hurt you. I just…” he stepped forward, breath catching, “I just need you to know, if there’s any part of you that still wants me, I’ll spend every day proving I won’t walk away again.”
And when you didn’t answer, he didn’t beg.
He just stood there, waiting. Willing to face the ache he left you with, even if all you gave him in return was the door slowly closing.
Yeosang:
You weren’t sure why you expected anything different from tonight.
You had tried, gently, to bring it up. How distant he’d been lately. How you felt like you were loving him through a fog, always reaching, never quite touching. You hadn’t raised your voice. You hadn’t accused him of anything.
But somewhere in the middle of your sentence, Yeosang had sighed and said:
“Why does everything have to be so dramatic with you?”
He hadn’t even looked at you when he said it. Just stared at his phone. Barely blinking. Barely present.
The silence that followed was heavier than any shouting match.
An hour passed. You expected the front door to open and close with him leaving. But instead…
A knock.
Soft. Three quick taps. Then stillness.
You didn’t move at first. But then
“Can I come in?” His voice was quiet, muffled by the wood. Not demanding. Not confident. Careful.
You opened the door slowly.
He looked… small. His hair was a little messy, like he’d run his hands through it too many times. His bottom lip was bitten red. And his eyes, his eyes wouldn’t quite meet yours.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” he started. “About you being dramatic.”
You waited.
“I didn’t mean it. Not even a little.”
He stepped inside, slowly, hands in his hoodie sleeves, unsure of what to do with them. “You weren’t overreacting. You weren’t picking a fight. You were telling me how you feel, and I… dismissed it.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
“I think sometimes I freeze when I don’t know how to respond. I act cold. Detached. Like that makes me look in control.” He finally looked at you, really looked. “But all it does is make the people who care about me feel like I don’t care back.”
You blinked, throat tight.
“I wasn’t taking you seriously. I wasn’t taking us seriously. Not tonight. Not the way I should’ve.”
He stepped a little closer, then stopped himself. “But I am now.”
There was a long pause. Then, with a shaky breath:
“You were right. I’ve been distant. I didn’t want to admit it because I don’t have a good reason for it. I’ve just been in my own head and shutting you out instead of letting you in.”
His voice dropped even lower, rough around the edges.
“You didn’t make everything dramatic. You made everything real. And I made you feel like your feelings were an inconvenience.”
The silence between you cracked a little when he added, softly
“I’m sorry.”
He held out his hand like he wasn’t sure you’d take it. “If I promise to really try, not just to listen, but to hear you, would you let me stay? Even if it’s just for tonight?”
You didn’t answer right away.
But the way he was looking at you, finally, fully, made you feel seen again.
And maybe that was the apology you needed more than anything.
San:
It had started small.
You’d reached for his hand in the kitchen, trying to slow him down, trying to talk about how you’d been feeling like he wasn’t really present lately, like his body was here but his mind was always somewhere else. On tour. In the studio. On his phone.
You’d said, “I just miss you.”
And he’d pulled his hand back like your touch burned.
“Why do you always need so much from me?”
That stopped everything.
You blinked, stunned. He wasn’t yelling, but it felt louder than any scream. You opened your mouth, but the rest of your words got caught somewhere in your chest. Instead, you walked away. Into the bedroom. Closed the door behind you, because if you didn’t, you’d fall apart in front of him.
San didn’t follow.
Not at first.
The door stayed shut. The apartment stayed quiet.
Until—
A knock.
Then his voice, muffled, low, wrecked:
“Baby, please open the door.”
You hesitated. You were still shaking. Still hearing his voice in your head, repeating that question like a cruel loop. Why do you always need so much from me?
But something about the sound of his voice, the crack in it, made you reach for the handle.
You opened the door to find San leaning against the frame, hands braced on either side like he was barely holding himself up. His eyes were rimmed with red. His cheeks flushed with emotion he couldn’t hide if he tried.
“I didn’t mean it,” he said immediately, desperately. “God, I didn’t mean it.”
You didn’t say a word. Your silence hit harder than any yelling ever could.
“I was overwhelmed and I said the first shitty, cowardly thing that came into my mouth. And the second I said it, I wanted to rip the words out of the air.”
He took a step closer, but didn’t touch you. “You don’t ask for too much. You never have. You ask for me. My time. My heart. And I’ve been so wrapped up in everything else, I forgot what it means to actually give that.”
He shook his head, jaw tight like he was trying not to cry.
“You tell me you miss me and I treat it like a burden? What the hell is wrong with me?”
Your throat burned.
He took a breath and pressed his palm flat against his chest. “It’s not that you ask too much of me. It’s that I’ve been giving you so little lately, it feels like anything at all is too much.”
His eyes met yours, glossy and pained.
“I love you,” he said, voice breaking. “I love you so much that it terrifies me. And sometimes when I feel like I’m failing you, I push instead of pulling you closer.”
He wiped at his face, chest heaving. “But I’m done doing that. If you’ll let me… I want to be better. For you. For us.”
A tear slipped down your cheek. His eyes followed it all the way down like it killed him to see it.
“I know I don’t deserve forgiveness right away,” he whispered. “But please, just tell me I didn’t ruin the best thing that ever happened to me.”
You stepped forward, slowly. Just enough that he didn’t have to guess.
And this time, when he reached for your hand, it wasn’t to pull away.
It was to hold on.
Mingi:
It had been days since the argument.
Only… it hadn’t been much of an argument. It had been you, speaking honestly, telling him that lately, you felt like a ghost in his life. Like you were always the one reaching out, always the one waiting. Waiting for a call, a text, a sign that he saw you.
And him?
He hadn’t fought. He hadn’t begged. He’d barely said anything at all.
Just clenched his jaw. Sat there. Silent.
You’d waited for something. Anything.
But all he gave you was quiet.
So you left.
He didn’t stop you.
And that silence, the one that followed, was worse than the one during the argument. Because now it stretched between two broken hearts.
Until tonight.
You were sitting on your bedroom floor, back against the bed, scrolling through old photos you’d told yourself not to look at. Laughing selfies. Half-blurry videos of him rapping under his breath in the car. Messages from nights when he used to say goodnight, love you without fail.
Then a knock.
You froze.
And when you opened the door, there he was.
Mingi. Hoodie damp from the light rain outside. Shoulders hunched, eyes red, hands wringing the hem of his sleeves like he needed something to hold onto.
“I didn’t know if you’d answer,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t.”
You didn’t speak. Not yet. He didn’t expect you to.
“I’ve never been good at saying things when I need to,” he started, voice trembling. “Sometimes I feel too much all at once, and it chokes me. And when you were telling me how you felt… I just sat there. Because I didn’t know how to fix it. And instead of trying, I shut down.”
His eyes were shining.
“I wasn’t cold because I didn’t care. I was quiet because I didn’t know how to show you that I did. But that’s not fair to you.”
He stepped closer, slowly.
“You told me you felt invisible. That you were tired of always being the one who reached out. And I should’ve said something. Anything. But I let the silence answer for me, and it said all the wrong things.”
You swallowed the lump in your throat, but your lips stayed still.
He took a shaky breath. “I didn’t say it, but I felt it. I felt everything. I just… didn’t know how to show you.”
He lifted his eyes to yours, voice breaking.
“And then you walked away. And for the first time, I understood what silence really sounds like.”
He reached out, slow and careful, like he didn’t expect you to reach back.
“I don’t want to go another day wondering if I’ve lost the one person who loved me anyway. Loved me even when I wasn’t making it easy.”
The rain outside tapped against the windows like it was waiting too.
“If there’s still a piece of you that wants this, I swear, I’ll never leave you wondering again.”
And maybe he hadn’t said much before. Maybe he’d stayed quiet when it mattered most.
But tonight?
Tonight, he was finally speaking the words that had been living in the ache of his chest all along.
Wooyoung:
It started subtly.
A missed good morning text, just one. Then two. Then three.
No updates about what you were eating for lunch. No late-night selfies. No rambling voice notes about how your day went, or the weird cat you saw on the way home, or how your barista spelled your name hilariously wrong again.
At first, Wooyoung didn’t panic.
He figured you were busy. Or maybe your phone had died. You were always a little scatterbrained. He thought it was cute.
But by day four, the silence started to weigh differently.
He scrolled through your past messages, his own replies now glaring. A string of dry responses. A few late replies. Some heart emojis sent on autopilot. He started to see patterns, moments he brushed off your excitement, teased your need for check-ins with lines like:
“You really text me more than my mom.
You always laughed them off. Or so he thought.
Until tonight.
He called. For the first time in a while, it rang. You picked up.
“Hey,” your voice came through flat. Tired. Nothing like how it used to be, all soft affection and brightness just from hearing his name.
Wooyoung sat up in bed, heart kicking into gear. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet lately.”
You hesitated. And that pause told him more than any words could.
“I just…” you finally said, “I didn’t want to be annoying. Or clingy. I figured I’d give you some space.”
Wooyoung’s heart stopped.
Your voice was distant, not cold, just… careful. Like you’d started building walls, brick by brick, while he wasn’t paying attention.
And then the realization hit.
His whole “God, you’re obsessed with me, aren’t you?” comment.
“I don’t want to overwhelm you,” you added quietly. “You probably enjoyed that I didn’t text anyway.”
“Stop,” he breathed, sitting up straighter, the words catching in his throat. “Don’t say that. Please.”
There was silence on your end. So he filled it.
He stood, pacing now, like movement might slow the panic rising in his chest.
“I could see you were pulling away, and I didn’t know why. But now I do. It’s because of me. Because I was too caught up in being cute or funny or whatever the hell I thought I was and I made you feel like your love was too much.”
You didn’t interrupt. Maybe because you didn’t believe him yet. Or maybe because part of you had been waiting for this, for him to see it.
“I thought it was harmless. I never meant to make you second-guess how you show up for me. I loved those messages. I love the way you care, the way you never make me guess how you feel.”
His voice cracked.
“You were never obsessive. Never clingy. You were consistent. You were present. And I was a goddamn idiot for not realizing how rare that is.”
Another beat passed. And then, gently:
“I miss you. I miss all of you, not just your messages, but the way you never hesitated to love me. Please don’t take that part of you away. Not because of me.”
Your breath hitched on the other end of the line.
“I’ll do better,” he promised. “I’ll be better. If you give me the chance.”
And for once, Wooyoung didn’t try to make it light. No joke. No wink. Just truth, raw and bare.
Because now, he knew better than to laugh at the kind of love most people spend a lifetime looking for.
Jongho:
He thought this was best for him, for the both of you.
Being apart would calm the frustration, the tension, the ache he couldn’t put into words.
So when he let you walk away, it wasn’t because he didn’t love you. It was because he didn’t know how to love you right, and instead of learning, he chose distance.
But the silence didn’t bring him peace.
It brought emptiness.
No more texts. No more playful eye rolls when he tried to hide a smile. No more soft hands reaching for his when he thought no one was looking. Just quiet. Cold, hollow quiet.
And the worst part? You didn’t come back.
Not after a few days.
Not after a week.
He thought you might. He thought maybe you’d fight for him, call him out like you always did. But this time, you respected his words. You gave him what he asked for.
And now he was the one left behind.
It was late when he showed up at your door. No text. No warning.
His hoodie was pulled tight over his head, eyes shadowed under the porch light. He looked nervous, the kind of nervous you only get when pride has been stripped away, when all that’s left is want.
You opened the door and froze.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, shoulders tense, eyes unreadable.
Then:
“Hey.”
Your arms crossed instinctively, more out of habit than hostility. “Why are you here, Jongho?”
He exhaled. “I… I thought I was doing the right thing.”
You didn’t answer.
“But every day since you left—” He paused, jaw tight. “—I’ve wanted you to come back. I just didn’t know if I deserved you.”
Your brows knit together. “Now you’re deciding this? After you told me I was too much, that I needed too much?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said, his voice low and rough. “I was overwhelmed. I felt like I was drowning in everything, practice, expectations, and yeah… us. But not because of you. Because I wasn’t letting myself lean on you.”
You stared at him. He looked different. Tired. Softer. But still him.
“Then why say those things?”
“Because I was scared,” he said, eyes meeting yours. “Of needing someone. Of letting myself be vulnerable. You were always so sure about us, about me and I… wasn’t. You're not exhausting to love, I was making it exhausting”
Your expression faltered.
“I thought pushing you away would give me control,” he continued. “But all it did was make me miserable.”
Silence stretched between you, taut and fragile.
“I was wrong,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t have let you go.”
You looked away, blinking quickly. “You hurt me.”
“I know,” he said immediately. “And I hate myself for it. I know I can’t undo that. But if you still have anything left in your heart for me… anything at all… I want to try again.”
You didn’t respond right away. The pain was still there, fresh enough that your walls hadn’t come down yet. But something in you cracked, seeing the way he looked at you now. The regret in his posture. The hope barely hanging on.
“I don’t know if I can trust you again,” you said softly.
He nodded, eyes glinting. “Then I’ll earn it. Day by day. Even if you don’t forgive me tonight.”
Another long pause.
Then you opened the door a little wider.
“Come in.”
Jongho stepped forward like he couldn’t believe it. His hand brushed yours lightly as he passed, hesitant, asking permission even in the smallest ways.
And maybe the pain wasn’t gone.
Maybe it wouldn’t be for a while.
But sometimes, love returns, not loudly, but slowly. Carefully. With trembling hands and quiet hearts that still believe in healing.
tags/genre: fluff, slight angst, exes still in love (WAH!), implied smut
word count: 2.1k words
synopsis: the last thing seonghwa wanted to do was make a fuss for his birthday. after a terrible day, all he could think about was going to bed and pulling the covers over his head. little does he know, you weren't about to let that happen ...
notes: another birthday boy!!! MY MAN MY MAN MY MAN this one hurt a lil bit to write knowing that seonghwa is hard on himself but he deserves all the love in the world SO EVERYBODY SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEONGHWA
seonghwa wasn’t having the greatest day, to say the least.
it began with him forgetting to set his alarm and arriving late to the group meeting with producers for upcoming variety content, even with cutting his shower short and having nothing in the morning aside from a cup of coffee. the managers weren’t particularly thrilled, especially considering the fact that he was the oldest and needed to set an example for the younger members.
hongjoong pats his leg gently as he settles into the meeting room chair beside him, a reassuring smile on his face before he turns to the staff and reviews the agenda with them. seonghwa sighs, a feeble attempt to ease the anxiety that was brimming in his chest. he taps against the arms of his chair as he listens diligently and bottles the shame that he felt for being late.
the rehearsal stage for another adrenaline performance afterwards was no better.
seonghwa’s mic was the victim of several wardrobe malfunctions, caught in his costume repeatedly and at one point flying off onto the stage and nearly causing yunho to trip when he performed his dance break. no matter how many times he apologized, practically fixated in a ninety-degree bow, he felt terrible for disrupting the practice. the stylists continually reassured him that it wasn’t his fault, that it was an issue they should have foreseen. still, he felt responsible and worked twice as hard to compensate for the setbacks after his clothing was adjusted.
his morale was already shot by the time staff ushered him into one of the conference rooms at the company building. aside from a string of texts in the group chat from the other members, he’d have forgotten his own birthday with everything else going on. the staff were kind, speaking with soft words and adjusting everything perfectly for his livestream background. there were all of his favorite things—a switch already booted up with his animal crossing island, a handful of smaller lego figurines for him to customize, a strawberry cream cake with candles ready to be lit.
he didn’t even realize his shoulders were tensed as he sits down and brushes a hand through his hair. a sigh escapes him as he watches the staff complete any final adjustments with the camera and audio equipment before they wave him off and shut the door behind him. for the first time all day, he allows himself the privilege of indulging in a bit of stress relief and starts his livestream. immediately, fans pour into the comments and populate the stream with warm birthday wishes and a flurry of heart emojis surrounding his name.
“ah, thank you so much,” he replies sheepishly, color flooding his cheeks as he begins to explain everything that was around him for his birthday setup. he glances through the comments, acknowledging one of the questions as to if he’d spent the day with the other members.
“i did,” he answers, “we were actually hard at work today preparing a comeback stage for atiny to enjoy. please look forward to it!”
little by little, the weight that hung heavy on him dissipated with every kind word and every reassuring comment about how hard he worked and how loved he was around the world. he fiddles with the legos in front of him as he mentally reminds himself that one bad day couldn’t equate to the amount of support he had behind him.
as if on cue, the livestream drops and he taps at the screen, confused while watching as the comments slow to a stop and the poor connection notification pops up. suddenly, a staff member runs in with an apologetic expression painted across her face.
“i’m so sorry!” she chirps. “the connectivity has been poor in the building today. i should have warned you.”
“i see,” seonghwa tries not to let his disappointment show as he switches off the ring light, mustering a smile that barely reaches his eyes. “don’t even worry about it. things happen. i’ll be able to go live another time.”
the staff glances around the room, realizing he hadn’t even touched his cake before she meets his eyes. “would you like to take the dessert home? we can send it with the managers later when they drop the others off for the night.”
“you know, it’s okay,” he says quickly, grabbing his bag to leave without another glance at the cake. “you’ve all worked so hard today, please enjoy it for me.”
“i—are you sure?” she asks, dumbfounded. seonghwa nods once, praying that his expression didn’t give way to his true feelings. she bows her head in thanks, gesturing towards the direction where the drivers were prepared to take him back to his apartment for the night. he bows before heading down the hallway, the fleeting relief he felt long gone. he moves absentmindedly into the van, pulling out his phone to scroll through the onslaught of remaining birthday wishes that were coming in.
with a quick selfie and a promise to be live again soon once the technical difficulties were addressed, he silences the notifications and scrolls through his feed. photos of friends on vacation, spending time with loved ones and simply enjoying life came one after another and he let out a deep sigh. it wasn’t that he didn’t love what he did—of course, he did—but the fact that there were days like this where he had to put himself onto the back burner were harder to handle sometimes than others.
seonghwa stills when he sees a photo dump from your recent trip with your best friends. you were glowing. laying under a cabana at the beach, clad in the tiniest bikinis and drinks in hand. his eyes meet yours in the photos and he feels his heart skip a beat, his thumb hovering as he wills himself to stay away.
he hadn’t heard from you since … well, the breakup.
he hadn’t bothered to reach out, either.
neither of you wanted it, but it felt necessary. months of hiding behind fake profiles and masks when you went out in public, having to watch as he performed fan service across the globe but couldn’t so much as hold your hand without speculation. seonghwa hated himself for knowing you wouldn’t be happy with being hidden, no matter how many times you told him that it didn’t bother you. he knew you well enough to know that you didn’t mean that and was the one that suggested you go your separate ways.
even now, he can still hear the crack in your voice and see the way the tears spilled over. as much as he tried to forget, he couldn’t. knowing that he’d hurt you and that you hadn’t done anything wrong made him feel ten times worse than he thought he did today.
seonghwa doesn’t even realize when the van rolls to a stop, the manager bidding him goodnight as he steps out into the cool night air. the building lobby was isolated, save for the handful of other industry staff that were running in and out for their final errands of the night. he lets out a slow exhale once the elevator doors shut, wanting nothing more than to take a shower and curl up under the covers for the rest of the night. the other members were still busy with individual schedules, which meant he could at least be alone with his thoughts until they lulled him to sleep.
or, so he thought until the sight of you stops him dead in his tracks.
you look up from the ground beside his apartment door, shoving yourself upright with an embarrassed flush in your cheeks. there was a box that he faintly recognizes placed beside the doorframe, decorated with the familiar print from one of his favorite bakeries. seonghwa’s body immediately tenses, his heart pounding as he approaches you.
“oh—hi,” you mutter softly as you avert his gaze. “i didn’t think you’d be back just yet.”
“what are you doing here?” seonghwa asks, his tone harsher than he intended.
“i just—” you gesture to the cake box on the ground. “i remembered it was your birthday and wanted to drop this off. the doorman remembered me and buzzed me up.”
“oh.” seonghwa nods once, reaching for his key and offering you the smallest smile you’d ever seen from him. “well, thanks.”
“of course.” you pause for a moment, the silence stretching longer than you could handle before you clear your throat awkwardly and readjust your bag strap over your shoulder. “well, enjoy the cake. it’s your favorite.”
you barely take two steps when seonghwa calls out to you, “would you want to come in and have some?”
seonghwa’s apartment is exactly as you remember it. clean, the faint scent of his cologne mingled with san’s from his room down the hall. he moves through the kitchen robotically as he fetches a knife and two small plates. you let out a noise of surprise, one that causes him to turn his head when you reach into your bag for the candles you nearly forgot.
“can’t forget these,” you mumble, shaky hands pressing the wax into the cream. you try your best to avoid seonghwa’s gaze on you as you pretend to be engrossed in going through your phone. it hadn’t been long since your breakup—a couple of weeks, at most—and you didn’t trust yourself to look at him without wanting to pull him back into your arms and never let go.
regardless, you muster the courage to lift your phone’s camera and record as you hum happy birthday to seonghwa and watch as he beams over the cake, the flicker of warm candlelight illuminating every one of his features enough to cause your breath to stutter.
“make a wish,” you instruct, meeting his gaze in the camera lens as he offers you a pitiful smile and closes his eyes with a puff of air that blows out the candles.
you enjoy the slice he serves you quietly, chewing thoughtfully as you fall back into another heavy silence. seonghwa stands across from you, doing the same until you finally set your plate down and stare at him pointedly.
“are you okay?”
“hm?” seonghwa swallows and grips the edge of the counter, hard enough that you notice his knuckles were white. “what do you mean?”
“you seemed pretty tense during your birthday live,” you point out.
“you watched that?” the ghost of a smile crosses seonghwa’s face before he reverts back to being expressionless.
“uh, i stumbled upon it,” you lie quickly, earning a gentle laugh from him that sends a shiver along your skin. “but, seriously. i know livestreams are overwhelming sometimes. you just seemed tenser than usual.”
“… i had a day, that’s all.” seonghwa doesn’t say anything else and you sigh, ignoring the warning in your mind as you approach him with a tentative hand on his arm. you turn him to face you, scanning his expression as it finally cracks and his brows furrow with worry.
“i’m sorry,” you say quietly. “you don’t have to talk about it, but just remember that there’s always tomorrow. just enjoy your birthday for the rest of tonight. you deserve that much.”
seonghwa stares at you for a long time before raising a hand to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as his eyes say all of the words he couldn’t. he leans in tentatively, closing the distance until his lips meet yours. a jolt runs along your spine as you melt into the kiss, your arms draped over his shoulders to pull him in closer. you hadn’t realized just how much you’d craved his touch until this very moment.
reluctantly, he pulls away and rests his forehead on yours.
“i miss you so much,” seonghwa says, his voice barely a whisper as you crane your head up enough to meet his eyes. your heart lurches at how dejected he sounds and you brush his hair from his face with a weary smile.
“c’mon, none of that,” you say, trying not to let your own voice crack. “you should enjoy the last few hours of your day.” you move to free yourself from his grip when he holds onto your wrist and tugs you back towards him.
“i have a few ideas on how i can do that, but you need to stay.”
“… okay.”
in that moment, you don’t question the consequences of letting seonghwa lead you down the hall to his bedroom. you don’t listen to the voices warning you that it was a terrible idea, that you should have left when you had the chance and that you were about to reopen every wound that had been carved into you over the last several months.
the moment seonghwa’s lips are on yours again, your mind goes quiet.
it was just one night, after all. just for his birthday.
► 𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 - obsessive!mafia!Seonghwa x fem!reader◄
► 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎/𝙰𝚄 - mafia au, yandere trope, power imbalance, suspense, thriller, crime, Seonghwa is extremely !obsessed and !possessive, dark romance, depictions of Seonghwa's slow descend to madness, so he's kinda !psychotic, true insanity (like, I made him pretty mentally deranged here), kidnapping, imprisonment, escape from captivity, toxic form of love, emotional and mental torment, restraint (via handcuffs), forced love, angst, plot twist (stay away from the comments to avoid spoilers!) ◄
► 𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 - PG-18+ so MDNI!!!, murder and extreme violence (semi-graphic) but not towards reader, drugged (non-graphic), consensual-hate sex, dom!Hwa, but whiny!Hwa, mommy kink, hard-fast-rough, standing sex, handjob, degradation, gunplay, fear play, oral, cum eating, missionary, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms (on Seonghwa's end), multiple creampies, baby trapping implications, no protection (DO NOT DO THIS!!!!), just super kinky lol◄
► 𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 28.7K words (this had to be this long sorry) ◄
► 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜 - You loved Park Seonghwa, until you found out that he was a Mafia Lord, and you didn't want to get involved, so you left him. But Seonghwa wasn't going to let you go that easily, because his unhealthy obsession with you knew no bounds. Soon enough, this obsession is marked by violence and manipulation when he kidnaps and imprisons you just so you could love him back. You barely escape with your life, but what about the feelings in your heart that were trapping you? How were you supposed to love Seonghwa when he’s slowly losing his mind and sanity in the guise of loving you too much? ◄
► 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 - PLEASE READ AT YOUR DISCRETION. There will be extreme instances of how mental instability affects love, and Y/N isn't clean. Do not read if you're uncomfortable, it's not mandatory even if you enjoy my work. Prioritize your mental stability, and I'll see you in my next work. If you do choose to read it, enjoy! Fic inspired by Chappell Roan's Coffee.◄
► 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 - @0rangemilk @ginger-mingi @ruubyrubes @oddracha @jaytheatiny @roxannecos @juicy-red @cheolliehugs @sunnysidesins @jjongbearshoney @midnightrebel1028 @xomakara @lovetaroandtaemin◄
‘Coffee?'
-Park Seonghwa
You bit your lip apprehensively, the phone in your hands almost slipping with how lax your grip on it had become. What was once your lifeline to the world - the window to what was beyond your walls - was now the bane of your existence.
A loud shrill cuts you off of your thoughts. The phone was now ringing. You practically jumped out of your skin at the sound, and in a panic, you unwittingly pressed the red button.
"Fuck," you hissed, not fully intending to reject the call. Well, not entirely, anyway. You didn't mean to immediately do it, your nerves always failed you at the last minute.
You were back to biting your bottom lip, but this time, you bit on them with twice the anxiety and twice the strength since they were actively bleeding out in between your teeth. You jumped out once more when your phone dinged.
‘Do not ignore me. Get dressed. We’re getting coffee.’
-Park Seonghwa
Ignoring his incessant calls and messages shouldn't have been this difficult and stressful. You could feel your sanity slowly slipping away from you every single time you'd leave another text from Seonghwa unanswered.
This prick, you thought, gritting your teeth so hard, the grating sound of it made your head hurt. You haphazardly threw your phone on your desk, not caring if it gets smashed or not. It would be better if it did, honestly. That way, you’d have no contact with him left, and his control over you would vanish.
And in that way, you wouldn’t be tempted to see him over and over again.
It wasn’t a fault of his own sometimes. There was always this urge in you to see how he was, what he’s doing, and if he was the same man you left a couple of months ago.
You bit your lip, looking down on your outfit. It was a simple white button-up shirt, some jeans, and a pair of heels. It wasn’t a choice of yours, either; Seonghwa loved elegance. He would make you change, anyway, and waste your time.
You’ll meet up with him one more time, and tell him that it would be the last time. You’ll meet up with him one more time, and tell yourself that it would be the last time.
The cafe was empty when you got there, unsurprisingly. You scoffed as you sat down, it was such a Seonghwa thing to do. A barista even escorted you to your seat, it was slightly embarrassing. This was a cafe, for God’s sake, not a fine dining restaurant. You shook your head as you knew this was one of his games. He loved seeing you embarrass yourself, especially since he was the one embarrassing you because even in that aspect, he wanted control over you.
God forbid someone else did it for you, however. They’d be dead by deadlight. You swallowed those thoughts away, they weren’t metaphorical at all.
Seconds passed by, minutes ticked by, and almost an hour into arriving, Seonghwa still hadn’t shown himself. You gave the poor barista a nervous smile of your own, but inside, you were seething. You tentatively looked outside from the glass walls, you knew he was here. You could feel it.
And yet, he was nowhere to be seen at the same time. You began to feel uncomfortable, tugging at your collar, playing with your nails, sighing every five minutes, the likes. But the worst part of it was that you knew he was enjoying this. He got off on your discomfort.
You wouldn’t be surprised if he was hiding in plain sight, his eyes never leaving yours as he savoured all the most miniscule of your expressions that told him exactly what you were thinking without him even opening his mouth to ask you.
Just as you were about to stand up and leave, the door opened, a light trinkle resounding from the charm attached on top of it to signify someone’s entrance. He did this all the time - reel you back in when you’re about to pull away. You hated it, mostly because you let him treat you like this.
Two men entered first, both of which you are very familiar with. They greeted you with a subtle nod of their head, avoiding eye contact, before choosing to sit in the farthest part of the quaint café.
And there he was in all his majestic glory. His strides were sure, eyes trained on you like a hawk, pausing to tilt his head at you as if he was examining you, but you knew better - he was challenging you to move.
That was how Park Seonghwa - he demanded attention. The way he would swallow the entire room with just his shadow, alone, never failed to stun you into silence. He was a siren’s song, beckoning anyone around him to look and listen with just one word from his mouth. Hell, most of the time, he didn’t even have to say anything.
But the siren’s song was just that; a siren. A subtle smirk graces upon his lips, and the next thing you knew, he was making his way to you. You watched his hands pull the chair in front of you, those sinful hands once held you, bought you comfort as they caressed you. Now, all they did was strangle you into suffocating, squeezing your soul, stealing your essence drop by drop.
“I don’t think meeting out here is wise, Mr. Park,” you said, cutting straight to the point. It was more so for yourself, the longer you stayed with him, the weaker your resolve gets.
You refused to break eye contact with him, and perhaps, that was the worst part of all of this. He was still breathtaking. That face once made you kneel, and it still can.
“Seonghwa, my love,” he corrected, tutting at you like he was endearingly scolding you. It made you sick. “You know my name, why won’t you say it?”
You bit your lip as you weighed your options down. There was always that choice to disobey him, it wasn’t difficult, but the mafia lord had never made anything easy for you. “I don’t think meeting out here is wise, Seonghwa.”
You watched as his bottom lip quivered, the way he attempted to hold his grin was nothing new to you. He loved it when you played his little games, he was more than pleased with it. Seonghwa raised his hand, snapping it to signal the nervous barista who was just waiting.
“Nothing has ever been wiser,” he replied, staring the barista down as they shakily placed Seonghwa’s coffee in front of him as well as yours, except that you got a strawberry shortcake on the side, your favourite.
You didn’t have any appetite, and he knew it, you never did every time you went out to meet him, yet he didn’t care. You mustered up the courage to ask him, anyway. “What is it that you want, Seonghwa?”
He watched you push your plate away with a small frown on his lips. “Why aren’t you wearing the ring I gave you?” Seonghwa questioned, ignoring yours.
“Why should I? I’m not yours,” you took a deep breath, whispering your next words. “Not anymore, at least.”
“Nonsense,” he brushed off, pausing to take a sip from his cup before looking you dead in the eye. “You were always mine. You just don’t want to accept it.”
Indeed, he was a siren. He never stopped until the words he sang rang true even though you both knew it wasn’t the case. Seonghwa was once your siren, and now you regret ever being enthralled by his songs.
“I want to see you wearing it the next time we go out,” he declared, referring to the ring. He paused, a thought crossing his mind. “Do you not like it, though? Is that why? Would you like me to get another one?”
You tried not to flinch when he held your hand, lifting it to give it a small kiss. It burned, yet you couldn’t pull away. “Such delicate fingers,” he chuckled. “No jewelry can compare to its beauty, my dove.”
“Seonghwa,” you sighed tiredly, pulling away. His words still affect you, it was hard not to let them get to you, but it has to stop.
“It’s fine,” he interjected. He poked his tongue on his inner cheek, displeased at how averse you were to his touch. “No spherical metal will bind you to me. We both know you’re mine, anyway.”
You sighed once more, this time, with a tremble. “There will be no next time,” you mumbled, clearing your throat from the nerves clogging it. “I came here to tell you that I-I can’t do this anymore with you, we have to stop meeting so we could both move on…”
It was the most difficult thing you had to say, minus when you told him you were leaving him, but you had to for your own sake. He didn’t say anything, his face had no emotion, except for his twitching left eye. You gulped, that was not a good sign. He did not like that at all.
No words were said for a while. You almost broke down and took it back, but no, it was better to end this now than suffer the consequences later, because you might not end up leaving him at all.
“It’s funny,” he began, voice leveled and calm. They were too calm. “Most people give out everything and anything just to have a five minute conversation with me.”
He took another sip of coffee, his long tongue darting out from his mouth slowly swiping his upper teeth as he looked on. “But you,” he continued. “You push me away when I make a point to crawl down to you unlike the others who have to climb up to me. You are a tough nut to crack, Y/N.”
You gripped the table in front of you, your knuckles pale and white. Anger rolled off of him like waves and for a second, you were terrified that he was going to explode on the spot. The way he uttered your name was a threat in itself. He sets the cup down without a sound, letting out a small chuckle.
“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” Seonghwa asked softly, all traces of anger gone from his tone. “Here, dove.”
You shut your eyes tight. His change in attitude scared you out of anything he has ever done, and Seonghwa was a violent man. Not towards you, never towards you, but he was a destructive person to be with. He was a psychopath.
“I-I don’t want to eat, I’m good,” you squeaked, shaking your head when he took a piece of the cake and tried to push the fork into your mouth to feed you.
“Come on, doveling, eat this. It’s very yummy,” he gently coaxed, pushing the fork slightly until it was touching your lips. “Say ah, baby, I’ll feed you,” he smiled.
It was a sweet gesture, and if the situation was different, you would’ve cooed at how cute Seonghwa looked. In your peripheral vision, even his bodyguards looked appalled at their mafia lord’s gesture. Seonghwa ruled everything, he owned this city, and everybody licked the soles of his shoes and worshiped the ground he walked on.
But here he was, feeding you with cake.
You turned your head again like a petulant child, refusing to eat anything that came from his hands. “I really don’t want to.”
He frowned. You watched as his hand started to shake, but you knew it wasn’t because he was tired of holding the fork up. “One bite? I know you’ll like it.”
“No, please—-“
“Open your fucking mouth.”
There it was. The way he demanded was anything but, his eyes were half-lidded with malice, the monotonous tone in which he spoke terrifying you more than if he raised his voice or grabbed your hair to force the cake down on your throat. His despondent stare penetrated through you, combusting your insides on the spot with how fiery it was. He was angry, you made him angry. Seonghwa cannot be angry.
You gulped, parting your lips slightly. It was all it took for him to forcefully part them with the fork and roughly shoved the cake in your mouth. You choked when the tip of the fork almost hit the back of your throat, coughing a bit before you decided to swallow. Tears collected on the sides of your eyes, but you forced yourself to smile and nod at him.
“You’re right,” you coughed again. “I-It’s yummy.”
His arm retracted, his eyes not once leaving your trembling form. “One more,” he ordered, tone clipped. It had a veil of threat looming over the words as they left his tongue.
You flinched when he cut another piece, the clank of the fork when it hit the plate, echoing in your head. It was reminiscent of what you hear in your head before Seonghwa’s patience snapped. He was a time-bomb; you never knew what made him tick, but you knew that he was destined to explode somehow.
He grabbed a napkin then wiped the sides of your lips. “You should be more careful, dove,” he chided, voice lowered, clouded with sinister intent. “Wouldn’t want you messy now, would we?”
You quickly shook your head in response. “That’s a good girl,” he smiled, his words kind and gentle as if nothing had happened, but you knew better. He lies through his teeth.
If you didn’t love him, it would have been fine.
The sigh that escaped his deceitful lips was long and slow as if his brain needed to process what just happened. The screeching sound of his chair hit your ears, and he was sitting beside you before you knew it.
“I sincerely apologize, doveling,” he whispered, his voice breaking and cracking halfway. He lifted a hand to touch you, only for the same hand to fall back down neatly on his lap. “I-I just missed you a lot.”
You felt your heart split in half inside your chest, you didn’t want him anymore, but it didn’t mean you liked seeing him like this. However, deep in your gut, you knew that something was inherently wrong. You just didn’t know what.
“Think about what I said, please,” you appealed, scooting your behind away from him to create a gap between the two of you. For a split second, his lip twitches.
He looks up at you, hurt coating his entire features. “I implore you to think about it. I don’t want to completely lose you,” he pleaded. He jutted his lips out, doing everything he can for you to look at him with pity.
You were weak. You were a weak, weak person. Seonghwa pulled you to him, enveloping his arms all over your form as your chin laid on top of his shoulder to hug him back. To your left, was the glass panel that separated the cafe from the outside. It reflected both you and Seonghwa’s embrace.
The hug looked serene, intimate, to the unassuming eye. Your heart dropped to your feet as you watched Seonghwa’s expression morph from loving, apologetic, and sincere, to something that can only be described as demonic and corrupted. His eyes grew wide with madness, rolling at the back of his head as he tried not to crush in his arms then and there, his lips stretched towards his ears like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“Are you going to force me to forgive you?” You asked, tears falling from your eyes before you could stop them. “Are you going to take me?”
He smirked, still looking forward, not knowing that you could see his expressions. “No, well, I could,” he whispered, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from cackling out loud at your stupidity. “But I won’t.”
You were a fool to believe that he would actually be sincere for once. This was his true colour. “You know me well enough where you know what my answer would be, and it’s no.”
It was terrifying how his expressions could change in the blink of an eye. His eyes slowly lost that mirth and instead dropped into the most dangerous glare, “So it seems,” he monotoned, grinding his teeth. “I won’t take you for myself by force, not until you want me to.”
Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies.
You need to get out of here. “And what if I never want you to? Tell me,” you breathed out.
Your heart leapt out of your chest when his eyes met yours through the reflection of the glass, the grin on his face expanding malevolently. He pulled away, making a point to demean you further by tapping your cheek.
“And so my manipulation tactics begin,” he smirked, his sharp jawline finding rest above his slender fingers. “Though I don’t think I have to make much effort, you seem to be doing most of the work for me, dove.”
It was true, he got you there. You didn’t have to show up, you didn’t have to answer to his every beck and call, and you didn’t have to stay and wait for him when he humiliated you earlier, but you were still here. Seonghwa wasn’t pointing a gun to your head.
Not yet, at least.
“You’re mine,” Seonghwa murmured. “The sooner you accept that, the sooner you’d feel better.”
“But for now,” he stood up, all the grace and elegance in his body oozing out of him. He moved so regal, you had no idea why he even liked you. He offers his hand out. “You should go home. I reckon this meeting took a toll on you.”
You refused his hand and he scoffed, and just like that, he left. Completely alone to your thoughts now, you couldn’t help but breathe out the air you didn’t realize you were holding.
It was that tense, things with Seonghwa were always very intense. He always invoked emotions out of you that you always kept buried inside you, yet you always came back for more. Again, the fault wasn’t fully his own.
You were the one who left him, yet you couldn’t fully leave him.
As usual, that night was spent with you just thinking about all the things that could’ve been with him. In the end, you weren’t strong enough to tell him that enough was enough with all these games you played with each other.
He resented you, you knew as much. Seonghwa was a very, very vindictive person - he wasn’t the type to ever let go once crossed. You just never thought that the day would come when all that resentment was directed towards you because he was playing with you, that you knew as much.
It took another two weeks before he contacted you again, and this time, he called you directly. You stared at the number on your phone. You had deleted his number, but that was pretty pointless because you memorized it by heart, anyway. “Hello?”
“Hello, love,” you could hear the smirk in his cocky tone. “Care to have another coffee with me?”
The automatic response you had in your head was, of course, no. Seonghwa was an asshole; he was manipulative, and he was arguably the most toxic person you’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting, but goddamn, does your heart always pull you towards him even when you try very hard to guard it.
“I don’t know,” you told him truthfully in the end even though his voice broke down your walls bit by bit. “I told you that we have to stop doing this, aren’t you sick of it?”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. “You’re right,” he mumbled, surprising you with how genuinely amiable he sounded. “Coffee is overrated. Let’s go to dinner, instead. How about that Italian place downtown?”
You didn’t have high expectations, in fact, you had zero expectations, but you weren’t expecting that at all. “S-Seonghwa,” you sputtered. “T-That’s not what I mean.”
“I know,” he chuckled. If you didn’t know him, it would sound like he was genuinely amused by this, but no. It already had a dark undertone to it. “So how about it, love dove? That or we hit the bar next to it, instead. Pick your poison because I’m not asking for your permission.”
It was your turn to stay silent. The last place you wanted to go to was the Italian restaurant. Why?
Because it was where you met Seonghwa - the end of your beginning and the beginning of your end.
“Let’s just do coffee, then. Just like you originally wanted,” you murmured in submission, but he was not pleased with your response.
“That ship has sailed when you couldn’t make up your damn mind,” he said. “The bar, then—”
“N-No! I mean, no, please,” you denied, a bit more defensive than what you would’ve liked to sound. “Dinner, Seonghwa, please, I’ll go to dinner with you…”
“Splendid, I’ll pick you up in an hour,” he agreed. “Why are you avoiding the bar?”
“Because we know where that leads,” you lamented, your voice almost desperate and pleading. “I’ll see you.”
You sighed, hanging up the phone and not bothering to hear what he had to say. You were pretty much terrified of going to the bar with Seonghwa, because then he’ll get you a drink, and that would always lead you in his arms.
The hour was a blur. A year prior, it was your favourite part of the day - getting ready and dolled up for the love of your life, but now, you just wanted to get everything over with.
You’d also be excited for the car ride, but now, it was just so awkward to be in the car with Seonghwa. Neither of you talked, nor were you interested to spark up a conversation to begin with. The only time you did was when he asked you to hold onto him as you made your way inside the restaurant.
It was impossibly lavish, as expected of Seonghwa’s finer taste in life. It wasn’t for the regular everyday people since everywhere you looked dripped in money, both clean and dirty. However, all this elegance felt oppressive to you
Seonghwa sat across you, his presence filling the entire space. You cowered at his stare, focusing on the food that was being laid out in front of you. His stare never left you even when the waiter asked if their services were still needed. You could feel your hands gripping the stem of the complimentary champagne flute.
Suddenly, he started to laugh softly. You tilted your head to look at him curiously. “You’re very stubborn, dove,” he shook his head. “It would be endearing if I didn’t want to strangle it out of you sometimes.”
Against your better judgment, you took a huge swig out of the champagne, letting the sweetness of it coat your throat. Lord knows you needed a lot of them if you were about to spend time with Seonghwa. “Unluckily for you, I’m not looking for you to change my mind. I’m happy being independent right now.”
It wasn’t the entire truth. You wanted nothing but to lay in his arms like you used to and let him whisper all the sweet nothings in your ear. You grabbed the wine bottle from the ice bucket that was placed near you and poured a hefty amount on its respective wine glass.
In your peripheral vision, it wasn’t hard to see Seonghwa’s irritation - he wasn’t used to being met with resistance - but even he raised a brow at how much red wine you were planning to drink. He smirked, looks like he didn’t need the bar, after all.
But his smirk dropped when he realized that you had already finished a whole glass and you were on your way to another one. “Alright, that’s enough,” he snatched the glass from you, drinking the whole thing in one go. “I’m not a good person, but don’t insult me like this. I have standards, I don’t want you face-planting on the floor.”
You blinked, the alcohol in your system already hitting you head-on in a possible collision that will be difficult to recover. You couldn’t look away from Seonghwa, and for once, maybe you just wanted to let go and be happy. “Do you want to know why I don’t want to go to a bar, specifically?”
He looked at you expectantly. “It was pointless since I got this,” you giggled, holding up the wine bottle, which was already halfway empty. The glasses were massive, and you were lightweight. “Because we’ll have a drink together, and then you’ll say you want me and that you’re sorry,” you hiccupped. “I know it’ll be a lie.”
He stood up, rendering you speechless. Whether it was from all the stress culminating inside you or his audacity, you didn’t know. He offered a hand to you. “Come,” Seonghwa softly commanded.
You finally looked up at him, confused. “W-Where?”
“Home, you silly goose,” he chuckled. He raised a brow when it still didn’t click. “I’m taking you home, little dove.”
Alarm bells started to ring in your head. You were about to shake your head when he stopped you. “I meant your…apartment,” he spat the word with such venom. “I do not approve of it since we have our old house, but I’ll play along for now. Come along before I change my mind.”
It was how you found yourself back in Seonghwa’s car, the food long forgotten, your mind buzzing. You sighed, staring out through the window, just gazing upon the passing distance. A scoff was tickling behind your throat, this was one of those instances where you actually had no choice. Whatever Seonghwa says, goes.
However, contrary to what he was thinking, you weren’t necessarily afraid of him just snatching you up and forcing you to be with him, not today at least, but you were concerned about something else - something else entirely intimate.
When he insisted that he walk you up to your door, you couldn’t refute it. How could you when he was already walking at the apartment entrance ahead of you as if he knew where he was going?
Little did you know that he actually did. You blanched when he situated himself in front of your door. “Seonghwa,” you gulped, your hands shaking as you tried to open the door. “H-How did you know it was this door?”
When you left him, you tried everything you could to erase his track. It was almost impossible since the mafia owns the entire region, and you couldn’t go far since you had no money. You knew that he knew where you lived but you at least thought that you were safe since you thought you had the upper hand. You cursed under your breath, you shouldn’t have put his obsession with you past him.
He snatched the keys from your hands, taking the liberty to unlock the door, himself, but when he was about to push it so he could walk in, you quickly held on to his arm tightly.
“It’s late,” you reasoned out, heart pounding in your chest. This. This was what you were afraid of. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
He rolled his eyes, taking the keys out from the keyhole and tossing them to you. “Is this the way you treat your guests, love?” Seonghwa scoffed, crossing his arms. He sneered. “I thought I taught you better than that.”
You fisted your hands so tightly, your nails left deep indents on your palms. “You made me entertain thieves and murderers,” you gritted your teeth, not relishing in the memory of the many times Seonghwa would make you sit on his lap while he planned his operations in front of the other mafia leaders.
“Hoshposh, little one, I would’ve shot anybody who looked at you wrong straight to the head,” he said. “Seriously, though, I’m quite thirsty.”
He pulled on his sleeves slightly and set his eyes on the luxurious watch that was wrapped on his wrist. “A glass of water would be great, then I’ll be on my way.”
You frowned, hesitation rolling off of you in waves. Of course, you didn’t want to let Seonghwa in your apartment, but you weren’t exactly heartless. You bit your lip, the sting of it snapping you out of the lies swirling in your own head. Heartlessness had nothing to do with it.
You looked up at Seonghwa, heat pooling in your lower tummy, regret churning above it. You opened the door wide, resigning to your desires, leaving the remorse for tomorrow.
Seonghwa smirked, closing the door behind him before pulling you by the arm, his lips smashing against yours in a heated fervor. Kissing him back wasn’t lost on you, this was what he was truly thirsty for, after all - you.
And the worst of it all, you’d let him drink on no matter how much your head told you ‘no’. Seonghwa wasn’t someone who you could deny, because you can’t.
The point was to meet him for coffee, his usual excuse, and only for coffee, but alas, nowhere else is safe because every place always led back to him.
A low, breathy moan escapes your throat as he lifts you up in the air, quickly wrapping your legs around his torso. His lips found salvation on your neck and jawline, planting sweet kisses on your skin that set them on fire with every touch.
“I missed you,” he groaned against your chest as he laid you down on your bed and loomed on top of you, trapping you in between his arms. “God, I fucking missed you, dove…”
Of all the things he’s said tonight, you knew this to be the one where he wasn’t telling lies. You couldn’t even complain when he tore your top to shreds in his impatience to have it off, your bra stood no chance either. A wanton moan slips out of you when he grabs the small dagger that he always kept and cuts it off from the middle, the cool metal tip sending shivers all over your skin.
“S-Seonghwa,” you mewled when his lips wrapped themselves on your puckered nipples, his tongue swirling all over it, leaving trails of spit that you always found incredibly erotic.
He wasted no time taking the rest of his clothes off along with yours until there was no barrier left between the two of you and the hot surface of Seonghwa’s skin seared in contact with yours. You wanted this more than anything, and it was why you were terrified of letting him in.
“How do you want it?” Seonghwa placed a tender kiss on the area below your ear, tickling you, making your cunt clamp down on his invading fingers as he massaged that sweet spot inside you. “How do you want me to fuck you?”
It was when you looked up at him that had your mind completely reeling. No, you never really doubted that he loved you, but sometimes, love simply wasn’t enough.
And in Seonghwa’s case, he was offering a little too much. And too much of anything never did anybody favours.
When you raised your hand to cup his face, he didn’t hesitate to close his eyes and kiss your palm. There were no words that needed to be said.
That night, as you were curled up on Seonghwa’s naked chest when things were said and done, it was the first time you wished that things were different. You wished you were strong enough to stop loving this man, but that was impossible because you knew he would never stop chasing you until all that were left of him were bones and ashes.
And when you woke the next day to a completely empty bed, tears cascading down towards your pillows as you stared at the empty space. You could still feel the ghost of his lips on your forehead, the reluctance to leave clear in the gesture. But he had to, you’d kick him out, anyway.
However, it wasn’t out of a broken heart - it was relief. Pure, unadulterated relief that he was gone.
Leaving Seonghwa a couple of months before you moved back to your current place was simply the hardest thing you had to do. It wasn’t a decision that you mustered up out of thin air, it was days - months - of decision-making that either broke your heart or killed you.
You carefully adjusted your dress, shimmying your hips to make sure you weren’t exposed. You slipped among the crowd, squeezing your body in between the drunken state of the people on the dance floor as you made a beeline straight to the bar.
Clubbing became a part of your routine. It was an unhealthy coping mechanism to remind you that before Seonghwa, you were your own person. A drink or two later, your hands were in the air, your inhibitions lowering at the quick shot of adrenaline the alcohol provided you.
But it could only do so much. You sat at the corner of the club, just staring into the crowd. Melancholy seeped in your heart, it was pathetic that you had to go to places like these to get that cheap thrill of forgetting Seonghwa for a moment, only for his face to haunt you the moment you stepped out.
You swallowed the nostalgia that threatened to embrace you. When you closed your eyes, you could still picture the moment when you met Seonghwa for the first time. It was last year, you were so naive back then.
Or maybe not. He was just good at hiding his true colours.
A heavy sigh left your lips, your head nodding in resignation at the realization that your date had just ditched you.
Embarrassment clawed in your chest as you curled in on yourself at your seat, your fingers fiddling with the straps of the dress you’d carefully picked out for tonight uncomfortably. It was a waste since you had nobody to show up for it.
“You shouldn’t waste your tears on this beautiful night, pretty dove.”
Surprise covers your features. You hadn’t realized that you were crying. You feel somebody from behind you, probably another patron of the restaurant. You were even more embarrassed that someone has seen you get emotional.
“T-Thank you, kind Sir,” you politely accepted the handkerchief he offered you, dabbing your tears with it. “I’m afraid I soiled what’s yours…”
You were caught off guard when you glanced at its owner. He was hauntingly beautiful. His features were so forward and defined, and yet, there was a type of softness to it that reminded you of a gentle lamb.
”Do not fret, I have more where that came from,” he chuckled.
“Ah,” you trailed off. “I will replace it for you soon.”
He smiled, his face transforming into something even more breathtaking. A blush creeps onto your cheeks.
”Might I be presumptuous to ask for something else in return? I don’t need it back,” he pointed to the kerchief.
You blinked, waiting for his response. He gestured to the empty chair in front of you. “I’d like to accompany you for tonight, if that’s alright,” he said.
Your brows shot up in surprise. You supposed that the universe hasn’t completely abandoned you. You nodded, gesturing towards the chair. You had absolutely nothing to lose.
“O-Of course. I’d be honoured,” you cleared your throat, gazing at him expectantly as he helped himself. “I’m Y/N.”
He gracefully extends his hand to capture yours, a subtle smirk plastered on his face. “Park Seonghwa.”
He was the best thing that ever happened to you. Seonghwa took you to multiple dates after that, taking you to places he said you deserved to be taken to, experiencing things you’ve never done before, and just spending time with him in general.
The next thing you knew, you were falling in love with him, and you were falling hard and fast. Luckily for you, Seonghwa was, too.
You bit your lips, remembering the way his glimmering eyes that reminded you of a baby doe as he stared at you with all the love he could muster in those beautiful eyes. The Seonghwa you knew was kind and gentle, he could never hurt a fly.
”Excuse me?”
The bartender you got your drinks from earlier interrupts your thoughts. They had a tray with a single drink. It was a daiquiri. You frowned, shaking your head towards them. “I haven’t ordered anything.”
They proceeded to shake their head at you, instead. “It’s from that guy over there,” they pointed at a table a couple of metres away from you.
As they placed the cocktail right in front of you, you took the liberty of inspecting the man that had the audacity to assume that you were lonely. A year back, you would’ve been flattered, but this reminded you of the way Seonghwa approached you for the first time in that restaurant.
Your sweet, sweet boy. Or so you thought.
“Can you please return it? I’m not interested,” you pushed the drink back, much to the bartender’s chagrin and hesitation.
Your heart felt like a knife was being stabbed into it. You couldn’t go through this again.
Something changed along with your relationship. Seonghwa was the most patient man you knew. He was the type to cook breakfast in bed for you, tuck you in and give you a goodnight kiss for absolutely no reason. Seonghwa would hold you in his arms, cuddling with you for hours, just laughing along with your corny jokes even though they weren’t funny.
”Whenever you’re sad, just look at the stars for me,” Seonghwa would say. He would give your forehead a tender kiss as he would whisper. “You are my forever star, Y/N. I want the stars to be a witness to our eternal love.”
The club started to feel suffocating for you. Standing up, your wobbling legs took you to the restroom. You didn’t even spare a second glance on the daiquiri that you had purposefully left behind.
Luckily, the restroom was empty. You splashed cold water on your face, hoping it would wake you up and knock some sense into you. This was a mistake, you thought, your hands gripping the marbled sink. You were a mess.
Your feelings for Seonghwa were a mess. He started to change slowly. It wasn’t noticeable at first, but you knew him. He started getting angry fast, he had random bouts of periods where he would disappear, he’d come home with bruises on his face. He would cover it with makeup, but they’d still peek through.
When he told you he was in the mafia was a breaking point for you. You immediately left him after because you didn’t want to involve yourself in that lifestyle.
”My love, please,” Seonghwa begged at that time, tears falling from his beautiful eyes as he held your arm back weakly from leaving the house with your luggages. “P-Please, don’t go, I-I don’t think I can live without you, please.”
You couldn’t believe it back then, that your sweet Seonghwa was pleading for you to keep your love alive while his heart shattered with the weight of your decision in his chest. It pained you to see the love of your life losing it like this, but you had no choice. You wanted a normal life, you wanted to live your life safely, and Seonghwa being in the mafia can’t provide that for you.
It pained you to remember how Seonghwa desperately kneeled on the floor, crawling forward on his knees, broken, his eyes wild with fear. “Y/N, I am begging you,” Seonghwa’s voice cracked back then, struggling to breathe as tears spilled down his face. “I need you, dove, I can’t go on without you…”
His chest heaved with sobs he couldn’t control. “Don’t leave me, please. I don’t care what I have to do, dove, I-I can’t lose you, y-you’re everything to me. Please, don’t go.”
Sometimes, love just wasn’t worth it. You swallowed the tears that threatened to fall from your eyes, and you powered through, turning your back on him for the last time as his fiance, pulling on your luggages to leave him for good. It was difficult to ignore the guttural cries that left his lips as he screamed his lungs out for you to come back to him, but you had to go.
The little coffee breaks he’d ask of you were your little reprieve. Call it a guilty conscience for breaking his heart.
But the truth was, you still loved him just the same, if not more. God, you still loved him.
Something had changed, though. During the months you were apart, he became maddened - more unhinged, to say the least. He scared you most of the time, it strengthened your cause of leaving because it was a side of him you’ve never seen before. He wasn’t the person you loved, not anymore.
Your Seonghwa was mellow and gentle. Whoever this maniac was, this psycho, you didn’t know who.
The bathroom doors opened with a bang, the rickety wooden structure hitting the walls that shook the entire expanse from where you stood. Danger signals spiked fear in you, instead of the usual women who belonged in the restroom, two wannabe thugs entered and set their eyes on you.
One of them gave you a gnarly grin. You squinted your eyes, you knew of them. Disgust curls on your lips at the sight of the two men who were at the table who sent you the overly sweet cocktail you indifferently left at the table.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, trying to level the situation out. Them barging in meant no good. And there was no one to save you. What is it with men and their inability to accept rejection?
“Who the hell do you think you are?” One of them growled audaciously, spit flying out from his filthy mouth emphasized by the dingy lighting the restroom provided. He marches towards you, pushing your arms rather roughly. You reckon it will bruise.
“Now, now, there’s no need for this,” the other one gestured for his companion to tone it down, leering as he raked his eyes from your head to your toes. His slimy tongue licks his dry lips as he slowly approaches you, or rather, stalks you like a predator.
The moment he grabs your shoulders, your instincts snapped you out. With a scream, you swiftly ran across the room towards the door, but not before giving one of them a good kick in the groin.
“You fucking bitch! Ow, fuck, wait until I get my hands on you—”
Your heart pounded heavily against your ribcage, pure adrenaline fueling you as more vile words could be heard from the distance the more you walked away. You had no care for the sweaty bodies that you had to go through, all you knew was that you had to run, and you had to run fast.
This was the only time you cursed at how small the club was. You had no idea how far you were walking away from the bathroom, but the blinding lights, the deafening music, they were starting to get to you. You were terrified that they had managed to follow you. You didn’t dare look back.
You had to get out of here. Luckily, you were near the back door where you could exit and get away, so that’s exactly what you did. You couldn’t even regret forgetting your jacket the moment you got out and was embraced in the bitter cold of the night.
“Once again, I don’t have to do anything. You keep running into me.”
A startled scream escapes your mouth, the loudness of your own voice scaring you. Panic surged through your bloodstream. You looked around, and there was darkness everywhere, but no matter how blinded you were, you will always find that voice.
Seonghwa was enveloped in the quiet corner of the cobblestoned alleyway. His back was leaning against the wall, his hand in his pants pocket while the other held a cigarette in between his nimble fingers. The only thing illuminating him was the faint glow of its lighted tip, its smoke swirling in the air mixed with the cold exhale of his breath.
Your breath caught into your throat. The horrifying clarity of running straight towards another danger was harrowing. Being alone with Seonghwa was far, far more dangerous than anything, however, you’d rather be in his mercy than those thugs inside.
“You just couldn’t wait to see me again, don’t you, doveling?” Seonghwa mocked, his voice almost low, and frankly, delicious to your ears.
But you weren’t in the mood for his games. “Go fuck yourself,” you hissed, gritting your teeth in annoyance.
“I’d rather fuck you,” he grinned.
His pants tightened as he stared at you clad in the tiniest dress known to mankind, his cock jumping out at a certain memory of you underneath him just the prior week before he left your sleeping form.
He could take you where you stood, right here, right now. And he would. However, when he noticed the way your hands trembled as you wrapped a protective arm all over yourself, his inhibitions died down. His brow rose when your form shook at the sudden boom of a voice from the door where you exited.
Paleness rendered you frozen. You could hear the same voice from the bathroom shouting, the sound of their voice growing closer and closer as they searched for you. Your eyes fleeted to Seonghwa once more.
He was already staring at you, his sharp, calculating eyes boring into you in realization. He poked his tongue on his inner cheeks, dropping the cigarette on the dirty floor, crushing it underneath his feet. You smiled to yourself ruefully, he was definitely different from the Seonghwa in your memory.
This was his true nature. Your sweet Seonghwa was a fraud.
The door busted open, and the same guy that held your shoulders looked around like an angry bull until he set his eyes on you. At that moment, you knew that Seonghwa understood what was happening. He stayed unmoving, unbreathing in his dark corner as the guy marched towards you.
“You,” the guy seethed, shoving you hard on the same shoulder. “You think you’re hot shit, bitch?”
You gasped when he spit at your feet, his saliva coating your slightly exposed feet due to your shoes. You inhaled, exhaled, repeating the gesture to reel in the anger you were feeling. You subtly waved your hand in Seonghwa’s direction, telling him to back the hell off and let you handle this, yourself.
“I’ll pay you for the drink, if that’s what you’re mad about,” you murmured, trying to sidestep him, but he swayed to the same direction, blocking your way. “Move,” you gritted your teeth.
He gripped your arm tight, his fingers digging into your skin in an alarming pressure where you were sure it would leave bruises. “No, no, you’re coming with me,” he pulled on your arm, causing you to lose your footing a bit.
“N-No, let go of me,” you pulled once more, forcefully this time, but his grip was loosening. Tension gripped your chest, the feeling of being cornered filling your mind with fear.
“Just come with me, you’ll have a good time,” he laughed lasciviously, his arm moving to grip your waist, until it freezes in the air.
You didn’t know whether you should feel alarmed or cry in relief when you watched Seonghwa appear from behind your captor. “Not so fast,” he said. You gulped when you saw him pull something familiar, using it to point at the man who held your arm at the back of his head.
The sound of a pistol cocking was louder than it should’ve been at the empty alleway. Your eyes widened in surprise and fear. This wasn’t supposed to be shocking to you anymore, but the sight of Seonghwa easily pulling a gun towards someone’s head never failed to instill terror in you.
“Back off, bastard,” the man snarled, though it didn’t have a real bite to it. “I saw her first, you can use this bitch when I’m done with her.”
Seonghwa hummed, leaning forward to the man’s ear, his tone dripping with unveiled threat. “Or I could plant a bullet in your head first. That sounds better to me.”
The man let out a nervous laugh, his grip on you tightening further, making you whine in slight pain. “You wouldn’t dare,” he laughed sarcastically, pushing his luck. “Not in a public place.”
Seonghwa’s eyes never left your shaking form. Your captor’s lips curled in dissatisfaction at Seonghwa’s lack of response. The thick silence in the air, yet your eyes never left Seonghwa as well.
“What else did he do to you, love?” Seonghwa’s soft voice asked after a while, though his eyes held another thing - rage.
He pushes the gun on the man’s scalp, the latter groaning in pain in response to the rough action. “Look, man. I didn’t know she was taken,” the guy defended himself. “W-We can talk about this—”
“Did he hurt you before this?” Seonghwa gave you a pointed look, impatience coating his features.
“Seonghwa, please,” you responded, voice weary and exhausted. “Let’s just—”
“Answer the question, Y/N. Did he, or did he not?”
You gulped. You hated when he used your name. “Just let him go, please, I want to go home,” you begged. You felt filthy being touched, but you didn’t want blood in your hands.
But it was too late, Seonghwa hated his properties getting defiled. He shoots the guy point blank, his eyes still never leaving yours. Shock electrifies your system, unwilling you to move even when your face splatters with blood. The grip on your arms disappears as the man’s body crumples to the ground with a sickening thud.
Seonghwa tutted, clicking his tongue in mock disappointment and disgust at the body laying down in front of him. “Pathetic fool,” he sneered, spitting violently at the corpse’s face, his foot connecting to the now-dead man’s face. “Pathetic fool.”
Another gunshot resounds in the air, and then another, and then another one, until the clicking of Seonghwa’s trigger signifies that he was out of bullets. “Well, fuck,” he murmured before his maniacal laughter fills the night. There was something primal about it, something animalistic.
You turned away, at the risk of throwing up all over the concrete floor, afraid to look at the man’s, mangled, bullet-riddled face. Your vision started to blur, like your surroundings were spinning, as your breathing became laboured and shallow. You tried to back away to try and lean on something, but your legs felt weak.
“A ‘thank you’ would be nice, little dove,” Seonghwa scoffed, side-eyeing you as he put his phone up his ear. “Get in here. I need someone to scrub the floor.”
You knew exactly what that meant. Someone was coming to get rid of Seonghwa’s crime. Your stomach churns with nausea, until you can't take it anymore. You turn around, emptying your stomach of its contents, the regurgitating, gagging sounds from your hoarse throat sickening, the smell of your own vomit making you even more sick.
The more you tried to breathe in calmly, the more out of control you felt. It was as if your body was deliberately going against you. Seonghwa never hid his brutality, but this was the first time you had witnessed it first hand.
You gasped when you were pinned against the nearby wall, your eyes rolling in the back of your head, but still making a point to look at Seonghwa. “Shut the hell up,” he hissed, wildly looking around. “We’re going to get caught if you don’t toughen up.”
You sneered, wiping your lips with the back of your hand. “Are you fucking kidding me? You’re delusional, you monster—”
Something cold and unforgiving wrapped itself around your throat. You gasped, your hands coming up for defense to pry Seonghwa’s hand away from your neck, but all he did was squeeze, effectively cutting your air supply off. “S-Seonghwa…”
A low, throaty laugh reaches your ears before he lets go. Your body automatically lunges forward, the suffocating weight on your neck finally lifting for you to gulp in a large amount of air. Yes, Seonghwa thought, this was what he wanted. He was the only one who had rights to your pain, not some slimy bastard.
“Why do you always have to misbehave, dove?” Seonghwa grabs your face gently in his hands, leaning in to plant a firm kiss on your forehead. “It would do you a favour if you shut your trap.”
“I–I’m well-behaved, actually,” you choked out, your fingers digging on his arms for support. “You always get what you want, anyway. What was the point?”
It was the truth, and you weren’t wrong. Whether that was by determination, force, or sheer luck, Seonghwa always got what he wanted.
Footsteps began to approach, the heavy thud of boots echoing through the night. Panic seizes you at first, but when you are approached by familiar faces. Seonghwa curses under his breath, pulling you close to him to cover your scantily clad body from prying eyes.
Not that he needed to do it, anyone who looked at you wrongly would have faced his wrath, anyway.
“Clean that rubbish up,” Seonghwa ordered gruffly, pointing his gun at the corpse he further abused after taking its life. “Leave traces of it, and you’re next. Where’s the car?”
Before anyone could respond, he threw said gun in the air for someone to catch. “Dispose of this, Yunho, and dispose of it well,” he wrapped a possessive arm around you, gesturing to the tall man who stared at you in pity. “We’re leaving.”
“Boss, hold on,” another person, one that you knew to be Jongho from his voice, alone, stopped Seonghwa from walking. He raised an irritated brow in expectation. “Wouldn’t it be smarter to pin this on someone else, instead?”
You knew of Seonghwa’s brothers, the people who he led and followed him for his wisdom and criminally intelligent guise, and you liked them. Jongho drove you back to your apartment that day when you left Seonghwa, causing him to be severely punished when he came back, and Yunho provided you a crying shoulder, but sometimes, you forgot that they were just as depraved as their boss.
Seonghwa laughed, baring his teeth maliciously. “Brilliant. On with it, then.”
The car was thick with unspoken tension, at least for you, anyway. Seonghwa was as relaxed as ever as he sat with you at the back of the car; his legs were crossed gracefully, and he even held a champagne flute for him to drink as if he was celebrating a job well done.
“Are you going to get rid of me too?” You asked, filling in the awkward silence. One more second of silence and you were going to lose your mind.
“I should,” he answered. Your body twitched with the unexpected response. “Which is why you should be more thankful. Nobody gets out of Halazia alive, not without my consent.”
Halazia was their base where all the operations ensued. You wanted to scoff, were you supposed to be grateful that you weren’t killed in your sleep after you broke up with him?
“The only thing I should thank you for is absolute nothing,” you replied, your voice inhospitable and unwelcoming.
You turned away, trying to ignore him and cut the conversation, but you gasped when he grabbed your arm harshly, hissing in pain when he coincidentally dug his fingers on the spot where you were pushed by the other man in the bathroom.
“Where the hell did you get this?” Seonghwa barked, glaring at the swollen area of your arm. If it wasn’t a bruise from him, then you’re not supposed to have it. Only he can give you those.
“Get your hands off of me,” you snarled, pulling your arm away to rub on the hurting spot. You avoided eye contact with him, not willing to divulge more information. One man was already dead, you didn’t want another one in your hands. You haven’t even properly internalized what happened, it was too soon.
“I just had a nasty fall and hit something while I was running away from that creep, it’s no big deal.”
His stiffened, his eyes narrowed with unbridled, towering hostility. Seonghwa made no point to reply, but you could feel his temper rolling off in waves from where you sat. You decided not to push it. Technically, he lets you get away with a lot of things. You gulped, remembering how he callously shot someone in the head just by messing with you.
And that was fine, until you realized you weren’t getting driven to the place where you thought you’d be. You picture the familiar buildings that lead to your apartment, the roads that you walked to and fro everyday. You dare not breathe as you slowly approach the belly of the beast.
Seonghwa’s house, your old house with him.
“W-What are we doing here? Seonghwa,” you panicked, gripping the leather seats underneath your palms. “Why are you taking me here—”
“Relax, dove, it’s only for one night,” he scoffed.
The car lurched to a stop, the brakes screeching with no warning, and a cold gust of air hit your face when Seonghwa opened his own door to get out, but not without turning his head in your direction. “Unless you want to stay with me,” he grinned maliciously.
You angrily stepped out, having no choice but to comply just for a night. Your heels clacked against the wet concrete, not even caring that you splashed into a small puddle, as you marched towards the house without even waiting for Seonghwa. You hesitated for a little, nostalgia was a dangerous thing to feel.
The last time you were in this house, Seonghwa was kneeling by the doorway, pleading for you to stay and not leave him, begging that he’ll change. Your chest felt hollow with misplaced intentions, but you decided to ignore it for now.
All you knew right now was that you need to wash off all the blood that marred your face; to wash off all the indirect sins that you knew you had no hand in, but still felt guilty about. When you went to the guest room’s bathroom, your heart dropped when you saw that nothing had changed.
The water felt invigorating against your skin, but peace never came to you. That man, you were the reason why he was dead. You might as well have pulled the trigger on him. As your mind raced with frantic thoughts, you heard a soft knock on the bathroom door, and then the telltale jingle of the doorknob.
“Don’t even think about it,” you snapped, still covering your naked body with your hands even though you knew he wouldn’t be able to get in.
You heard Seonghwa’s dark chuckle on the other side of the door. “I’ll be back immediately, I have business to attend to. Hongjoong is here to address your needs, shall you need something.”
You murmured in agreement just to get rid of him. You would take this opportunity to slip away and go back to your apartment. You just hoped that Seonghwa wouldn’t be one step ahead of you like he always was. He could do whatever he wanted, you didn’t care.
At least that’s what you told yourself when you dressed up using your clothes that Seonghwa didn’t bother to throw away. A scoff leaves your lips, was he really hoping that you’d come back to him? Still, you couldn’t help but wonder what it is that he was doing this late in the night. Back then, you disliked when Seonghwa worked late as it worried you to no end.
“Y/N? May I come in?”
The family butler, Hongjoong, stood at the far end of the room. You greeted him with a warm smile, genuinely happy to see somebody that you knew wasn’t going to take advantage of your presence. He carried a small cup with him with what you assumed was tea. “Hey, Joong, long time no see.”
“Likewise, Y/N. The mansion wasn’t ever the same without you,” he smiled. He paused, hesitation coating his features as he set the cup down in front of you. “I wish you never came back, though.”
You sighed. It might sound harsh, but you knew he meant well. He saw how suffocating Seonghwa was as a fiance. “You can thank your boss for this fiasco. Ask him later, but I’m leaving right now.”
“I still value my life, thank you,” he chuckled, shaking his head. He bowed slightly before he started to walk away. “Call me when you need anything.”
You cursed mentally, swiping your hair up in frustration as you stared at the steaming cup of goodness. You wanted to leave before Seonghwa came back, but if you were being honest with yourself, you felt beat up. Your arms had started to bruise in some areas while you showered, patches of unsightly purples and greens spread all across your skin.
It wasn’t a good idea, and you were setting yourself up for failure, but you decided to drink the tea quickly and then vanish. You sighed, sitting down on the leather sofa, grabbing the remote control to the TV to raise the volume as it was already on, anyway. Seonghwa had a habit of leaving them on even when he’s not around so he’d have easy access to the news whenever he needed it.
Relaxation seeped into you as you took a good sip. Earl Grey, you realized. It made you smile a bit, it was your favourite. Seonghwa bought an entire land just to plant the trees that made them all for you one time. The memory suddenly made the tea taste bitter.
Suddenly, the distinct voice of the newscaster on the television made you freeze mid-sip. “For our breaking news,” they began. “A man was found brutally beaten north of downtown a quarter before midnight. It said that they passed away shortly after their sustained injuries.”
That in itself wouldn’t have been too bad, but when they showed the man’s face pre-crime, the cup wavered in your hand, drops of the tea spilling from the sides. It was the man that pushed you in the bathroom, the one that gave you the nasty bruise on your arm.
The more the reporter recounted the injuries, the more your grip on the cup tightened. You struggled to process the words, but more so how grizzly the attack was - missing teeth, broken jaw and ribs, face beyond recognition and repair. The words began to blur as you sat staring at the screen, frozen in your place.
A small chuckle sounded from the doorway, breaking you out of your thoughts. It was followed by a tut, the mocking kind. You closed your eyes to calm your nerves, you knew your chances of leaving were slim to none at this point. Even at a distance, his presence was so overwhelming and suffocating.
“What a shame. Such a handsome fellow.”
You didn’t turn right away, not wanting to give Seonghwa the satisfaction of seeing you falter. If he looked closer, he would’ve noticed how badly your hands shook. ”Yes, it is,” you said flatly, setting the cup down before you shattered it towards the floor. “What did you do?”
You were afraid of the answer, terrified, even. “Whatever do you mean, my love?” Seonghwa replied from where he stood. You could practically hear the smirk from his voice. He was so sure of himself and a bit too close for comfort. “I would never associate myself with the likes of that man.”
That much was true. As lethal as he was, he held an air of grandeur to him that always starstruck you. He could have been royalty in his past life. Everyone was beneath him.
“Oh?” You worded out, your tone more aggressive than you’d like. “What did you think happened, then?”
Your gaze flickered towards the door, and you wished you didn’t. He leaned on the door frame, arms folded, posture as relaxed as ever. “He must have had a pretty bad fall,” he shrugged nonchalantly. He said it so smoothly, so calmly, that it sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s no big deal.”
You didn’t know what it was. Something passed through his eyes, but it was gone in an instant before you could read it. The way he stood by and stared wasn’t imposing either, but there was something about the way he parroted your words in the car earlier, the way he knew that you knew, that made Seonghwa truly the terrifying man that he was.
You looked at him in disgust. “You’re a psychopath.”
“I prefer creative,” he started walking towards you, his eyes never leaving yours. He stops directly in front of you, his torso in your line of vision. His index finger tilts your chin up until your eyes are meeting his.
For a while, he didn’t say anything, the rest of his fingers brushing your skin tenderly in a way that should’ve calmed you down, but all it did was terrorize you. His gaze was calm, yet it unsettled you to your bones. “My, my, little dove, you are quite ungrateful,” he remarked softly, almost soothingly. “I don’t like ungrateful people.”
He gripped your chin firmly, not enough for it to hurt, but enough for him to make his point. “I don’t know what you want from me,” you cut the undeniable tension in the air.
“It’s not what I want from you,” his thumb pressing lightly over your skin. “It’s what you need from me.”
You frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Watch your tone,” his eyes narrowed as he dug his sharp nails on your chin. You had to suppress a groan until he calmed down. He sighed, his thumb carressing the area he hurt. “Did you honestly think I enjoyed you seeing me like this after hiding it for so long when you were with me?”
The question hung in the air, what were you supposed to say to that? His eyes darkened. “I do everything for you, dove. Can’t you see that everything I do is for your enjoyment and glory?”
This man was delusional. His hands lowered down to your neck, his fingers not squeezing, but the command was there. “I could kill anyone for you without blinking. I’m the only one who will do this for you, because I’m the only one who knows what you truly want,” he took a deep breath.
His voice became gentler, but that served to scare you even more. The words coming out of his mouth weren’t normal. “You think someone would care for you like I do?” Seonghwa asked affectionately. “You owe me, Y/N. Ask me why.”
“W-Why?” You asked, your words cracking halfway.
“Because,” he answered, eerily calm than it should be. “You’re the only one I care enough to hurt about.” Seonghwa kneels down, his hand unwrapping itself from your neck to hold your thighs. “I’m different now, I won’t let you down, baby.”
Your breath hitched, wanting to pull away, to scream, but the fear had you frozen in place. "I know how you are, Park Seonghwa,” you gulped. “You can't fool me."
"Once. I made that mistake once,” the mask had slipped and the true chaos inside him, referring to when he had hidden things from you. “And I already paid that price, little dove. You left me. Won't you spare me a bit of your love? I learned my lesson."
"You haven't learned your lesson. It's impossible. We are what we are," you stood your ground regardless of what Seonghwa would do to you.
He smirked. "You know I love you," Seonghwa said. "I could wait for you for as long as you need me to."
You frowned, your eyes widening slightly in horror. The confession wasn't something you haven't heard before, but it terrified you just the same. "You shouldn't. I don't love you like that," you rasped weakly. "We've talked about this before."
Seonghwa tilted his head, his face not giving out what his thoughts truly were. You had no idea how utterly smitten he was with you; how depraved he truly was. But the truth was, you could see it on his face. Instead of the rejection stunting his attempts, it made him want you more.
"How long are you going to pretend you don't want me, little dove?" Seonghwa held your hand. He planted a slow kiss, his dark eyes looking up at you as he did so. "How long are you going to deny me?"
It wasn’t difficult to see how his words, no matter how sweet or manipulative they were, hinted at his unstable mindset. “Anyway, I digress,” he pulled away, “Stay the night. You’ve been through a lot today.”
Anger is an indulgence, and it’s something you weren’t willing to feel at the moment. You weren’t angry at him, no - you were angry at yourself. You should have just left earlier.
“I have to go,” you whispered so softly it was almost unheard in the wide expanse of the room. “You weren’t even supposed to bring me here.” Your tone was accusatory. Clearly, you’ve had plenty of blunders today.
“Hmm,” he hummed. “Has it never crossed your mind that all the things you’ve been doing lately have all led you to me?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, but he continued. “Think about it,” he shrugged. “The odds of you stumbling upon me, through the backdoor, nonetheless, on a bar that we had just purchased the same night is astounding.”
You grit your teeth, not having any idea that he owned the property. Had you known, you wouldn’t even have bothered at all.
You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to scream at him and fight him until you were out of this suffocating house. He tilted his head in response. “You’re not a prisoner, dove,” he declared with disturbing softness. “You are free to leave anytime, but you have to behave and you have to trust me.”
“I don’t trust you,” you bit back, baring your teeth at him like an animal. “I never will.”
Something flashed in his eyes - something inhuman. He chuckled, as if he was expecting your answer all along. “Not yet,” his eyes, once again, glimmered with something foreboding. “But you will, if you know what’s good for you.”
You flipped him off, jumping off of the sofa to tread towards the door to leave, ready to shove him out of the way should Seonghwa resist, if need be. You were done playing his games, you were done being his plaything.
Seonghwa laughed, low and manic, as he watched your petite form stalk towards your goal like a cat who has set his eyes on its prize. Your jerked back, heart pounding in your throat, when he grabbed your wrist to halt you from moving forward.
His eyes were predatory, and you were pretty sure that he could smell your fear. “Behave, Y/N. It’s quite late, and I’m looking forward to retiring to my bed,” he smirked. He leaned closer to your ear to whisper. “Or are you looking forward to finding out how I’ll punish you if you misbehave?”
You grit your teeth, the audacity of this man! You fists clenched to your sides, the ache of rage and frustration bubbling inside you.
“No need to be afraid,” he whispered, leaning in close. “I told you, you’ll learn to trust me. I always get what I want.”
He lets go of your wrist to walk away, but not before he turns his head to side-you. “And I want you.”
A day or two was fine, to be fair, you really did need to rest and recuperate all the energy you had lost from all the adrenaline-fueled chase in the nightclub.
But you’ve been in Seonghwa’s territory, Halazia, for almost a week now. True to his words, you really weren’t being treated as a prisoner. Hongjoong did his best to accommodate all your needs, but it didn’t erase the fact that you were just a glorified captive that he dressed in silk and bound by the chains of his obsession.
Seonghwa always had an excuse, his latest one being that he wanted to see you out since he knew you weren’t going to show your face to him for a while. Well, that was three days ago. It pissed you off to no end, you weren’t completely stupid - it was his way of manipulating you to stay.
All you did was stay in the guest room. Seonghwa has tried to coax you once or twice, but you always ignored him, and you weren’t ready to see the people you used to know that you had gotten close with before you left.
Fine, you thought. If he wasn’t going to let you leave, you were just going to get out, yourself, without anybody knowing. You had no idea how you’ll do it, Halazia was well-guarded, but damn, if you didn’t try. You had to escape.
You carefully opened the door that led out to the currently empty hallway, looking left and right to see if Seonghwa assigned somebody to watch you. There wasn’t any, but you didn’t trust what you see - it was what you didn’t see that you didn’t trust.
The only good thing about this house was that it had a lot of secret entrances and exits just in case Seonghwa needed to escape if the operation got compromised. You had memorized them just in case you needed to escape from Seonghwa, ironically, like right now.
The nearest one to you was locked, of course. You cursed under your breath, quickly moving on to the next one. It was a gamble, unlike the other secret exits, this one was disguised as a small aesthetic dresser that Seonghwa had cleverly displayed at the end of the hallway. When opened, you would be greeted by random coats for diversion.
You silently moved them aside, revealing a hidden door knob behind them that led to the underground garage. Luckily, you were small enough to fit through without making the wooden structure of it creak. You were so close, and now, you had this one chance.
“Y/N?”
You reached for the door knob, but before your hands could wrap around it, your breath hitched, every muscle on your back stiffening. You rigidly turned your head, meeting Yunho’s widened eyes as they went back and forth between your face and where your hand was headed.
“Y-Yunho,” you pleaded, gulping on your nerves. You were thoroughly fucked. “Please…”
But before you could both react, low murmurs of voice started to echo down the hallway as well as thudding footsteps that signalled a couple of people just around the other hallway.
One of which was Seonghwa’s.
You couldn’t even lament. You knew this was going to happen. Every single time you found an opportunity to seek your way out, he would always come for you. He was always one step ahead, always waiting for you to screw up so he could whatever it is that he wanted.
Your breath got caught in your throat. Seonghwa’s presence loomed close like his footsteps, his voice muffled, yet smooth and cold, as he talked to whoever he was with. When his shadow was outlined at the end of the hallway, you knew you were done for.
And when you heard Hongjoong’s voice from the distance looking for you in panic, you knew you were found out.
Without thinking, you stepped in the dresser, closing the door before you slid in the corner behind all the thick coats. You swallowed, forcing yourself to still your breathing and manage your panic, but the truth was, you felt like you were going to faint. You stayed hidden, holding your breath and waited.
Footsteps approached until they directly stopped in front of the dresser. Your stomach twisted in fear, your breath coming fast and shallow. One wrong move, and all of this would be over.
“Yun,” Hongjoong’s panted tiredly. “Have you seen Y/N, by any chance?”
You inhaled a sharp breath. You had totally forgotten about Yunho. You said a quick prayer in your head, squeezing your body even tighter against the corner. Light passed in between the small crack of the door, allowing you to see Seonghwa along with two people you couldn’t really see finally joining Hongjoong and Yunho.
“No. I thought she was still in the guest room?” Yunho sounded thoroughly confused when he answered, his voice leaving no room for doubt as he covered for you.
Relief washed over you. You would never forget this favour from Yunho as he stepped in for you without a second thought. Through the crack, you could see Seonghwa close his eyes to reel in his anger, his fingers massaging his temple in nuisance, staring at Yunho, who squirmed at the attention, intently.
“She couldn’t have gotten far. Find her,” he ordered in eerie stillness.
Seonghwa remained in the hallway directly in your line of vision through the small space in between the wooden doors. This time, you weren’t breathing at all, your mind racing. Why wasn’t he leaving?
“Y/N,” he sighed exasperatedly. “Oh, my little doveling.”
Your chest exploded, pain spreading through your lungs as your breath got knocked out of you. His possessive way of calling you out shook you. You couldn’t risk getting caught, so you didn’t say anything.
You flinched when the doors rattled with his touch, creaking slightly as he opened it ever so slightly. “I know you’re in here,” he chuckled, teasing and soft, and so mocking. “Did you honestly think you could hide from me?”
Your stomach churned when the doors opened violently, its hinges almost coming undone. You wanted to cry, but you forced yourself to be still. You were still hidden behind the thick, wool coats. You just hoped your heavy breathing didn’t give you away.
You watched as his dark eyes scanned the dresser and for a moment, he didn’t move, just standing there as if disbelieving that he wasn’t seeing you. He hummed, finally closing the doors. A chill sparked up your spine, it couldn’t be that easy—
It all happened within a split second. You screamed when the doors opened again, a hand grabbing you and dragging you out of the dresser to be forcibly pinned against it. Somehow, Seonghwa still knew you were in there as if he had always known from the start - as if he anticipated you hiding in it.
“You think me stupid, don’t you?” Seonghwa murmured with false pretense. “I own you. That also means I know how your mind functions.”
You fixed your stare on the floor, not daring to lift your head to look at him. He held the areas on your arm that were still bruised, they hurt, but you were wishing that you could just disappear on the spot. But there he was, standing before you as his hands pinned yours tightly against the wall. His stare was intense, his demeanor more so.
“Look at me,” he commanded. He wasn’t playing around this time, that much you could tell.
You looked into his eyes with equal intent. A glint of surprise passes through them for a split second before it disappears and something akin to proudness appears on them. It was certainly twisted, especially because you just don’t understand just why he was so obsessed with you. Had you known it was going to be like this, you would never have left him the way you did.
In some ways, you felt like you were responsible for his unnecessary fixation towards you, and knowing Seonghwa, he was never going to stop until you were completely in his possession.
“You know what I think?” Seonghwa began, his voice tethering the line between amusement and controlled rage. “I think you think that you know me.”
One of your hands fell to your sides as he let go, only for him to grab you by the hair, bunching them up in his wrists tightly as he yanked your head backwards. Pain bloomed in your scalp, but Seonghwa didn’t care. It was this moment where you actually feared him, the real depth of his madness were finally starting to come to head as his patience was slowly thinning.
“I don't know whether to kill you or kiss you all over. Tell me, doveling, what do you think I should do?” Seonghwa said. His movement became frenzied in the simmering rage that was surfacing on his face. “There is no point in escaping when the cage has no door.”
You groaned when he jerked your head forward, then pushed it backwards, the back of your head hitting the wall. “Maybe this ought to help you, maybe this will wake you up, because clearly, nothing I do is worth your time,” he sneered, savouring the pain that registered in your eyes. “I give you everything, I feed you, dress you, love you, and this is what you repay me?”
“Hiding isn’t going to do anything for you, because I will always find you,” he continued, his words slow, deliberate, and threatening. “You think you can outsmart me, that if you stayed holed up in your room I won’t notice that you’re missing. Get this in your head.”
He leaned forward, his entire body closing in on you, wrapping you in the same darkness that swallowed the sentient part of his soul a long time ago. "I love when people think they’re smarter than me,” his lips curled into a sick grin. “It makes the chase so much worth it.”
Something in his words sobers you up immediately. With all the strength left in you, you twisted away completely from his hold, pushing him away with a scream. You breathe in and out, just watching Seonghwa’s unimpressed gait, his fists still up. They held chunks of your hair, but you didn’t care.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? You need help, Seonghwa,” you yelled in frustration, lifting your hand to tap aggressively on your head. “You are sick in the head, you delusional fuck, y-you’re…”
You trailed off, your emotions getting the best of you as they clogged up your throat. It might be wrong to talk back to him like this since it will make your situation worse, but you knew Seonghwa was done playing with you. He was slipping deeper and deeper in his delusions and there was no telling how far he’d go just to keep you.
Your heart bled, the pain in your scalp and the back of your head pounding, begging for attention. He has never been physical with you just to get what he wanted, he has gone too far now.
“You want to leave, don’t you?” Seonghwa asked softly, uncharacteristically soft compared to the crazed look in his eyes. He stepped forward, and at first, you thought he was going to corner you again, but instead, he leaned his back on the wall beside you, his head tilted upwards to stare at the ceiling. He turned his head to meet your eyes. “But you won’t. I won’t allow it. Now that I have you, I am not letting you go. Not now, not ever.”
You scoffed, but in truth, the way he said it posed fear in you. “That is not up to you. You cannot just imprison me and expect me to like you after this.”
“Oh, but I can,” he chuckled. “You’re here, aren’t you?”
He started to scoot closer, so close that you can smell his cologne that was mixed with the delusions that came along with it. It unsettled you, the only time you got close to him after you left him was when he was spreading your legs to bury himself in you whenever he’d ask you to go out for either coffee or drinks.
“You’re mine,” he said, more forceful than before. “Come on, say it. Say you’re mine. The sooner you understand that, the sooner you’ll feel better about it.”
“No,” you denied strongly with a hint of desperation in it. “I’m not yours anymore, Seonghwa, please. I just want to go home, let me go.”
He didn’t seem to hear you, that or he chose not to. A light laugh bubbled from his chest, but it wasn’t joyous - it was empty, like he was trying to convince himself that he was right and you weren’t. The two of you must’ve looked odd in the hallways, just leaning against the wall. However, to you, it felt like the hallways were crushing in on you.
“That’s the problem isn’t it? You don’t understand,” he said almost sympathetically, like he was telling these deranged things to you for your own good. You felt like you were going to get sick, it sounded more like an omen than anything else.
He was right - you didn’t. You didn’t want to understand, he could rot in hell for all you care. “Why me?” You whispered, hoarse and broken. It was the only genuine thing you wanted to know.
“Because,” he began, his hand reaching for you. His touch was cold. “When people see me, they think I’m this monster, they don’t understand,” he shook his head. “But you? You are the only one who knows what I’m truly capable of, the only one strong enough to take me as is. The only one who knows that I am actually a monster.”
It wasn’t the entire truth. Seonghwa stared at the fear in your eyes at his statement, he wanted to tell you the truth - that as messed up as it is, he just really genuinely loved you. Nothing about this was normal, but he was never going to tell you because he knew that you were never going to believe him.
The gaping hole you carved out of his heart was still there even though you were right in front of him, he would have loved you forever, and you didn’t understand that.
But that’s fine. He’ll make you, one way or another.
Your throat tightened, and despite everything in you screaming to run, you felt a tear slip down your cheek. His smile softened, and he wiped it away with a tenderness that was almost cruel.
“Seonghwa, this isn’t what you’re making it out to be, you are really unwell,” you pleaded. You hesitated, having no choice but to say the one thing that’s been weighing on you. “You have to move on, we are not meant to be. If you really loved me, you’d let me find another man to love, a normal one—-”
“I love you,” Seonghwa interrupted, the words coming out almost too quickly, exploding with the anger he was trying to repress. He glared at your face with an intensity that was borderline obsessive. “Is that not enough for you? How dare you mention another man in my presence?”
“That’s not what I said, and you know it,” you gasped, thick with terror, trying to remedy the situation.
He forced you to look at him. “So say it,” he hissed. His face twisted into something terrifying than anything you’ve seen. It was hurt, as though your refusal was the worst kind of betrayal for him. “Say you’re mine, because I will never leave you alone if you don’t.”
It was a threat, his certainty in it wrapping like noose around your neck, but the answer was still the same. “N-No,” you shook your head in defiance, more firmly this time. “I never will be.”
It was what set him off, the calmness he faked shattering before your very eyes. His hand shot out to bang his fists on the wall beside you. The sudden bout of violence made you gasp in surprise. “Fuck, you’re really testing me here,” he seethed, no longer soft, just harsh and detrimental. “God, I know you still love me, you don’t get to pretend when I know.”
He leaned closer, his face twisted with fury. He was dangerous, and you had no way out. “I’ve let you run free for a while now, my patience is waning down. I only stretched it for you and even then there’s not much I can provide you. I even let you go when you told me that bullshit about breaking up, enough is enough now,” he spat bitterly. “Come back to me.”
His words felt like a slap to your face.The sickening feeling of his warm breath against your skin felt overwhelming and your body was rendered paralyzed. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t, not when his words echoed in your head like a broken soundtrack.
“I’m not letting you go, you hear me?” Seonghwa continued, not caring if it sounded torturous to your ears, and certainly not caring that he was basically admitting that he will completely hold you against your will. “You’re going to take what I give you, and you’re going to like it.”
But you weren’t broken yet. You stared at him blankly, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you break down no matter how furious he got.
Seonghwa leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. "I’m doing this for you. For us. But if you push me too far, I’m not going down alone," his voice hardened, just a little, enough to remind you of what lay beneath the surface. "It’ll hurt you, too."
The veins on his neck bulged as he held himself back when he realized you weren’t going to say anything. He really was controlling his anger, but barely.
“You will learn how to love me again,” his words were clipped as he uttered them, jaw tight and just on the edge of breaking. The air between the two of you cracked with tense energy. “No one else will love you like I do. I can’t live without you, but I will make sure that you cannot live without me, either. I’m not asking anymore.”
You didn’t understand what he was trying to tell you, but you were about to. His hands flexed slowly, his fingers stretching as if the need to reel in his rage was physically painful. He snapped them, his eyes not once leaving yours. “Get her,” he deadpanned.
Footsteps began to approach from behind you. It was, then, when hands started to restrain your form, completely immobilizing you. Rapid thoughts spun in your head, the weight of their hands oppressive. You tried to pull away in an attempt to break free, but their grip was just too strong. You stared wildly at Seonghwa, eyes widened as you screamed on the inside.
“You can’t leave,” he muttered, his voice cold and detached, full with promise. “I will do everything in my power to find you, because I will. And when I do, I will make sure you never, ever leave me again.”
He turned around, his back facing you with finality, the true madness of his love setting in your bones. “Take her away and lock the doors.”
“N-No, wait, you can’t do this,” you clenched your jaw, resisting the arms that gripped tight on yours as they tried to drag you away. “Seonghwa! No, please, Park Seonghwa, let me go!”
But you were dragged, anyway, from your tormentor. There was a sharp tug in your arm, the force of it so strong that it made you stumble. They didn’t even wait until you got your balance back, resorting to dragging your limp body.
Each step forward felt like you were walking towards a nightmare you had no control over, and when you reached the guest room, you realized that you knew one of the people who was leading you to your personal hell. You were pushed forward, and before the door shut, possibly forever, you called out to them.
“Wait, Wooyoung, please, wait,” you begged, quickly dashing towards the door to hold it open. “I really need to talk to you, please…”
His eyes held hesitation, but probably after seeing how distressed you were, he closed his eyes and let out the heaviest sigh known to mankind. He turns his head on the other person that dragged you, the rougher one. “Get lost,” he ordered, his face contorted into something intimidating.
But when he closed the door to lean on it, his eyes were the softest you have ever seen. It held sympathy and understanding for your situation, but you weren’t a fool - you knew his loyalties would always lie with Seonghwa.
“The majority of us were betting on your escape, you know?” Wooyoung looked up as he leaned against the doorframe, his hands on his back. “Seonghwa and you were perfect for each other, but that came with a price.”
“Wooyoung,” you sighed.
“Let me finish since I can’t be seen here,” his eyes were hooded as he put a finger on his lips to indicate the decrease of his voice. “Keep it down.“
He pointed at the earpiece he wore, one that everyone wore since Halazia was massive. His face turned rigid with worry before he turned back to you. “Seonghwa just sent Yunho to the brig for a week.”
You paled, your jaw hanging low in shock. The brig. It was basically a glorified underground cell where they kept whomever they pleased. You wanted to tear up, Yunho went to your defense at the risk of being punished, but as always, Seonghwa knew everything.
The fact that he sent one of his closest friends from his personal team said a lot.
“You’re not going to get far in escape, not like before,” his voice was low, almost soothing like he was trying to calm you down and not make you feel trapped. “You are never going to make it far.” Wooyoung’s eyes turned sadder even further. “I-I can’t do anything to help you, I’m sorry.”
You wanted badly to escape, you know he could see it in your eyes, but there was nothing he could do. You swallowed all the emotions that threatened to break you on the surface. “I can’t stay here,” you tried to convince him. “I don’t belong here, Wooyoung.”
“You don’t want to mess with Seonghwa,” he shook his head with equal conviction. “He’s my liege, and I cannot forsake him. He’s the greatest, most notorious criminal known yet, however, I think you underestimate how far he’ll go just to keep you,” he paused, hesitating. “I would very much like you to stay alive, Y/N.”
Shivers traveled from the base of your spine to the tips of your scalp. “I don’t know what to do,” you squeaked, the defeat weighing down your body. “I don’t want to be his prisoner, I-I can’t live like this…”
He formed his lips into a thin line, his eyes softening as he started to walk towards you in small, careful steps. “I’m not going to pretend it’s alright, because it’s not,” he sat beside you on the bed, his weight dipping on the mattress. He had always been a friend to you. “It takes someone strong to be with Seonghwa, let alone deny him. This is the man that got whatever he wanted no matter how immoral it got. This isn’t the way, Y/N.”
You shook your head frantically, grabbing his hand to squeeze it. “Belonging to him, relinquishing my soul to him, you might as well gag me at that point.”
He put his other hand on top of yours, enveloping it with a much needed warmth that comforted you even though his eyes held pity. “You don’t have to belong to him,” he whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m asking you to stop fighting him.”
Your head snapped up to counteract his ridiculous claim, but he shook his head and continued. “Don’t you get it? There is no escaping him. He will find you even if you’re in the middle of God-knows-where,” he let out a sigh that seemed to carry a lot of burden in it. “I’m saying this for you, because there is no way out where he doesn’t hurt you.”
The finality of what’s been boggling your mind was crushing. You knew that there was no easy way out, but it still hurt to hear. “I’m not going to give up, even if it kills me,” you gritted your teeth, your determination setting fire in your guts.
“Y/N, please,” Wooyoung begged, squeezing your hand tighter. “For what is Yunho in the brig? For what did Jongho drive you away from here back then? And for what did I take Seonghwa’s punch when he realized I was distracting him? He’s not going to let you go, not now, especially not after everything.”
You shut your eyes tightly to reign in your oncoming migraine. “So, what? I’m just supposed to surrender and let him do anything to me? This isn’t love, it’s possession.”
“If you accept this,” he gulped with reluctance. “If you stop fighting, Seonghwa will go easy on you. It’s easier if you stop running.”
Wooyoung searched your eyes, hoping that he conveyed all the sincerity he could possibly offer you given the situation, but all you could see was the sadness and resignation - he didn’t believe in what he was saying, but he had no choice but to.
“Let it go, please,” he whispered, hoarse and defeated. “I’m not saying this for his sake, it’s for you. This will break you, Y/N.”
You shook your head once more. “I can’t give this up, I’m sorry. If I want the easy way out, I would stay here and just take it.”
His eyes sharpened, his brows furrowing into what resembled annoyance, but it still held the pity that Yunho had before you went inside the dresser. “I’m not asking you to give up,” he begged, anger and affection mixed into one. “I’m asking you to stop a battle you know you can’t win.”
You didn’t say anything after that, and his eyes dropped into accepting that you weren’t going to listen to anything he was saying. You’ve made up your mind. Heavy silence stretched between the two of you until, finally, Wooyoung got up to walk to the door. You can see him manually working on his well-crafted mask, but when he turned back to look at you, there was that softness underneath.
“You didn’t hear me say that three days from now, there will be a bust where Seonghwa has to be present, and you certainly didn’t hear from me that underneath your bed is a trapdoor that leads directly to the outdoor garden, one that Seonghwa doesn’t know,” he murmured. There were escape routes Seonghwa purposefully had no knowledge of in case he gets held as a hostage.
He opened the door to let himself out. “And I’m not telling you that Jongho will be waiting for you.”
You couldn’t wait for Seonghwa to leave, it was killing you to wait this long. He hasn’t bothered you at all, presumably because he was very angry at you, but more so since he was planning with the rest of his team, Ateez, about the so-called bust that they will do away from Halazia.
In the meantime, you tried the door again. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Wooyoung, but you didn’t want to risk it. It might either be a trap, or he might get in trouble and accompany Yunho in the brig if Seonghwa finds out.
You jumped away from the door, your heart skipping a beat, when the doorknob you were tinkering with suddenly twisted and turned. You backed yourself back on the bed as your door creaked open to reveal someone you weren’t pleased to see.
Mingi stood by the doorway, staring at you in amusement, his eyes flickering between you and the doorknob. You internally cursed, you knew you had been caught. He was most likely outside guarding the door when you tried it.
“Just when I thought you couldn’t be stupid enough,” he smirked, mildly annoyed. “Why are you trying to run away again? You just never learn, do you?”
You weren’t expecting to see him, in fact, you were surprised that he was put on guard duty. That was probably why he was pissed. Frankly, Mingi terrified you. He was just one of those members that openly showed his dislike towards you. His presence constantly reminded you of your captivity.
“Don’t project yourself on me,” you scoffed, riling him up. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you nervous. “Seonghwa put you on babysit duty. You must hate that.”
He laughed. “I suppose I see the appeal of why Seonghwa has been obsessed with you,” he mockingly tilted his head. “Stop trying, you have zero chance of leaving. Not while I’m here.”
“I’m not your prisoner,” you shot back, clenching your fists to your side. “He can claim me all he wants or force me, but I’m never going to belong to him like a doll. And you are, too.”
His eyes twitched in annoyance, stalking towards you, his arms still crossed. He leaned forward, making you back up in apprehension. “That may be so,” he chuckled darkly. “But I’m not the one who is caged like a fucking bird right now.”
"You think you can just run off like this?" Mingi continued, his voice low, his eyes glinting with amusement. "You really believe you have a chance?"
Mingi leaned away with a satisfied smirk, his arrogance and cruel enjoyment of your struggle really coming through. He was trying to break your resolve with his words, trying to make you believe that escaping is futile, when in reality, it couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Your hands clenched to your sides, controlling your urge to sock Mingi directly in the face not because you were scared to hurt him, but because you were scared that he’ll hit back. “That’s not going to stop me from trying, you brute.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will,” he waved off, backing away towards the door again. “But the thing is,” he paused to taunt you. “You’re not as clever as you think you are. Even if you get past me, you’ll have to get past Yeosang after.”
You paled, your nerves setting your insides on fire. Yeosang wasn’t nearly as infuriating as Mingi, but he was equally as loyal and cruel.
You had to leave now.
“Anyway,” Mingi turned the doorknob to leave, but not without glancing back at you with a sneer. “I will admit, you have balls for leaving him the first time, but Seonghwa already made up his mind this time. He won’t let you go, so I suggest you accept that now.”
And then he left. You glanced at the spot where Wooyoung told you that there would be a door. Truth be told, you haven’t checked yet; you were terrified that Seonghwa was going to walk in any minute and decide to put you somewhere else.
But there was no time to waste. You waited half an hour to make sure that Mingi wasn’t hanging around before you grabbed a blanket to slide under the feet of the bed to prevent any sounds before pushing it away enough for you to crawl underneath it with ease, and lo and behold. Your mouth felt dry as you stared at the handle of the trapdoor that could potentially lead you to your freedom.
You closed your eyes, praying that there truly was freedom on the other side, that Wooyoung would be safe, and that Yunho wouldn’t stay in the brig for too long. And after this, you will be gone forever.
Waiting until midnight would be the best option for you. Granted, it would also be the time where Seonghwa’s guards would be more alert, but it was a safer bet than somebody potentially walking in the room and chasing you down the trapdoor. Shivers crept up your spine at the thought of getting dragged back.
The silence was killing you, but your thoughts completely annihilated your sanity. You could just picture Seonghwa’s face etched with fury as he realized that you had, once more, escaped under his nose. But you also couldn’t help but think of the hurt that shone in his eyes. All he wanted was you, and you couldn’t fully fault his deranged mind, but you wanted to be free.
As you knelt to grasp the handle the moment that midnight striked, your breaths turned shallow and laboured. You gulped, willing the tremors from your fingertips to go away. You couldn’t falter, not now. With a jolt of adrenaline, you pulled it open, wincing as it creaked, which was a telltale sign of prolonged unuse. You just hoped no one heard it.
You released a breath you were holding when it revealed a ladder that led down, and that there was a dim light illuminating bits of the wooden ladder. That meant that you were nearer the exit than you thought you were.
A faint noise outside your door makes you freeze. You swiftly glanced at the direction, waiting for the moment that Seonghwa would burst in and see you holding a halfway opened trapdoor, but nothing.
Without another thought, you quickly jumped into action, going down the ladder, your foot hitting the first step as your hand slowly closed the tradoor above you. The moment you did, there was slight relief that coated your chest, it was one step to freedom after all.
It wasn’t fully dark in the damp passageway, the concrete was still visible from where you were walking as that faint light from the exit shone on it as if it was guiding you to your freedom.
When you were sure you were far from where you came from, you broke into a sprint, running literally for your life. Your legs screamed in protest, not used to exerting energy from the weeks that Seonghwa held you captive, but you didn’t stop. You were scared that he’ll catch and snatch you from behind.
But that didn’t happen. After what felt like an eternity, the passageway began to narrow until you hit a deadend with another ladder, only this time, it led above. Your desperation was hitting you at an all time high - you climbed the ladder without any hesitation, not even stopping to think if there was someone potentially dangerous waiting for you on the other side.
Before you were even fully out, hands were already pulling you out from your armpits until you hit a hard chest. When you looked up, a sigh of relief escaped from your chest.
“Jongho,” you whispered, your voice cracking at the solace that his presence had brought you. Wooyoung had not been lying.
Your heart pounded in your chest. It wasn’t like Seonghwa wasn’t going to find out, because he will, but you hoped that Wooyoung and Jongho will be able to buy themselves sometime before then.
“We have to hurry, there’s not much time left,” he hastily pulled you in a run, his voice strained with panic as he kept looking behind him. “There will be guards stationed here in less than five minutes, we have to get to the car by then.”
Your face paled, but you forced yourself to nod, anyway, working your muscles to pick the pace to match Jongho’s, but it was getting difficult. “Are you going to be okay?” You asked, panting hard.
Jongho’s hand held your arm as he practically pushed you forward, shaking his head. “I told San that I was going to check the other side of the property and station on it for a while. It should be enough for me to drive you to your place, but it will be tight.”
“We’re not going to make it,” you panicked, calculating everything in your head and visualizing the outcome.
His jaw set into a hard line and before you could say anything else, he stopped, shoved you behind him, and squatted down. “Hurry,” he barked a command. “Climb on my back, it’ll be faster.”
You hesitated, your nerves getting the best of you, and he could tell. “Climb! Hurry, please!” Jongho hissed, eyes widened in pure panic, as he flailed his arms to gesture for you.
It was the best course of action. Whether it was the adrenaline or the sheer terror of the situation, Jongho had a burst of strength that allowed him to reach the car faster than it would’ve taken both of you had it not been for his fast thinking. He quickly opens the door to practically shove you inside it before slamming it close, and before you knew it, you were driving away.
The drive back to your apartment was tense. Jongho instructed you to pack as little as possible. Yunho had suggested that they take you to the motel that was on the enemy’s territory. It wasn’t foolproof, but it would lessen the odds of Seonghwa finding you faster before you could fully get away. Even Seonghwa didn’t mess with another mafia’s territory.
“I can’t check you in,” Jongho said as he parked in front of the said motel. “They will recognize me. Use cash from now on, Seonghwa will be able to trace your cards.”
You felt a rush of emotions, a mixture of gratitude and regret. Seonghwa will punish him when he goes back, you could see the small fear behind Jongho’s eyes. You bit your lips, leaning in on his space before pulling him into a tight embrace. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you,” you sniffled, tears pooling in your eyes.
He pulled you away to stare at you. “I had a promise to you back then,” he said, softness in his eyes. You were the one who got Jongho a ‘job’ at Seonghwa’s manor after you found him homeless one day. He promised you his life then and there. You didn’t know he’d be a ruthless killer one day.
He held you by the shoulders, pushing you away slightly. “Now go, and please, do not let me see you again.”
With one more grateful nod, you walked away without looking back. Jongho sighed, he really hoped you made the most out of tonight. It was basically a suicide mission for him.
The drive back to the manor was the most tense he has ever felt. By now, he was sure that Seonghwa knew that you were gone by now, the only reason why he was still breathing was because he wouldn’t find out yet that he helped you do the impossible. Time was the enemy.
And he was right. The moment he got out of the car, voices in his in-ear comms were calling everyone to Seonghwa’s office for an emergency meeting. Jongho took deep, calculated breaths, practicing the mask that he was taught before going in to face everybody as if nothing had happened.
Wooyoung hastily approached him, grabbing his arm to lag behind everybody as he leaned his body towards him. “Success?” He asked tentatively as quietly as possible. Jongho raised a brow in confirmation, not wanting to move anything else for the fear of someone listening in.
The air in the office was thick, everyone piled in one by one in random spots. Personally for Jongho, he always preferred being near the exit, but he had to stick with Wooyoung this time.
Seonghwa was just standing in front of his desk, arms crossed as he watched everyone with his sharp eyes. That was the thing with him; he never needed to shout nor demand, he was just naturally intimidating. His presence was suffocating, his eyes eerily calm.
He’d be a fool if he said he wasn’t expecting this, like Seonghwa had said once, you were the only one strong enough to match his flame. He knew that there would be a time that you’d escape again, but he wasn’t expecting it to come sooner.
“Someone messed up,” he said softly, too softly. He gazes at them one by one, none of them meeting his eye. “One of you fucked up.”
Jongho tentatively watched as everyone shifted with unease. Mingi and Yeosang shared a tense glance, but he resisted the urge to jump back when he saw that San was already staring at him with suspicion. He gulped, holding eye contact, anyway.
Hongjoong, ever the calm one, steps forward, the edge of his voice betraying his unease. “I’m sure she hasn’t gotten far—”
“Stop,” Seonghwa’s voice was even quieter this time, but it was the type of quiet that made everyone’s back stiffen. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he leaned away from the table to walk past everyone. His expression was unreadable, but Jongho didn’t want to guess what he was thinking.
For a while, he doesn’t say anything. The silence in the room screamed louder than any rage could, and for once, everyone wished he would just burst out. This calm, quiet fury was more petrifying. Seonghwa wasn’t angry - not yet.
San looks away from Jongho, sensing the shift, and speaks up with Hongjoong. “We’ve already checked the perimeter…”
San faltered when Seonghwa cut him off with a single glance, shifting uncomfortably when his boss didn't even acknowledge him, lest you count the slow nodding of his head. It was the only indicator of his thoughts, minus the tight clenching of his fists on his chest.
“Find her,” Seonghwa murmured, his words clipped and deliberate. “And find her quickly.”
Jongho felt Wooyoung shift forward. He wanted to stop him, but that would raise suspicion so he just bit his lip. “We might not be able to this time,” Wooyoung cleared his throat. “We might fail.”
“Your incompetence doesn’t constitute understanding on my end,” Seonghwa said, stepping in front of them so his back was turned towards everybody else. “So don’t fail me.”
Jongho’s heart dropped to his foot when Seonghwa passed him a fleeting glance, a small smirk painted on his lips before he turned back around again. Seonghwa knew, he fucking knew.
“Boss,” Mingi called out. “Don’t you think maybe this is a sign to not let Y/N back?”
The room suddenly turned cold, the silence of his statement almost deafening to everyone’s ears. Seonghwa raised a brow in challenge. “And why is that, my dear Mingi?”
“My loyalties lie with you, my liege,” Mingi spoke, his tone cautious since he knew he was treading on thin ice. “Y/N is a distraction to the operation.”
Everyone held their breath, the tension was undeniable. Seonghwa’s eyes narrow, his pupils dilating ever so slightly as his lips form into a tight, thin line. “I had no idea you’ve gone senile,” he said. “But I respect the audacity.”
In a split second, Seonghwa’s fist connects with Mingi’s guts. The taller groan in surprise, coughing in agony as he clutched his stomach in pain. “Now, now Mingi, you can’t just dish out something and not learn how to take it,” Seonghwa chuckled darkly, tapping the latter on his cheek mockingly.
“You said you respected it,” Mingi coughed out some more.
“I do, as a matter of fact, I do respect you a lot now. But I didn’t say I wouldn’t harm any of you.”
The threat hangs around the air, looming heavily upon them. ”We’ll find her,” Yeosang spoke for the first time, his tone full of promise.
They were used to this side of Seonghwa, but tonight, there was something slightly different about the rage that brewed in his eyes. His patience was what truly made him terrifying, this was true power; something you had never seen since Seonghwa made sure not to.
“You better,” he simply said. “Or your loyalty won’t be enough to save any of you. One more word about Y/N, I will put the fear of God in all of you. Now, get out.”
No one wasted any time scurrying out the room as if it was on fire. The moment the door shuts behind them, Seonghwa’s calm shatters.
His rage boils over, and with a single swipe of his hand, papers that were neatly placed on his desk all fall on the floor, shattering the nearby picture frame that held your face. The sound of crashing glass rings through his office.
Seonghwa bangs his hands on the desk, his breaths coming in rugged and raw. When he saw the broken picture frame, like a man possessed, he smashes it further with a solid step of his foot over and over again. The glass shatters completely, it rains down like the shards of his crumbling control.
“You fucking,” he forcefully brings his fists down on the picture frame, not caring for the glass shards that punctured his skin. “Bitch.”
“Fuck,” he hissed, the walls shaking as he kicked the nearby cabinet that contained some of his whiskey bottles. He doesn’t care as the slew of expensive bottles came crashing towards the floor. “Fuck!”
The sound of it made everybody freeze from outside the door. Wooyoung’s knuckles turned white behind his hands as he winced at the loud bang from inside the room. “Should we, uhm,” he started, not daring to finish his sentence.
Yeosang’s eyes widened. “We have to stop him before he—”
“No,” Hongjoong snapped sharply. “Are you crazy? You do not want to go in there.”
Another crash sounds, and Jongho’s jaw tightens. He was glad you weren’t here, because this was the worst Seonghwa has ever been with his rage. He watched MIngi’s eyes tick at the next serieses of growls and roars from Seonghwa.
The stay at the motel was the most peaceful yet tense four days of your life. You couldn’t sleep properly at night, half expecting someone in the middle of the day to burst in and just drag you back to Halazia where Seonghwa would be waiting to imprison you again.
You couldn’t stay there anymore, and that’s why you were on your way to the bus station to finally get away. You already talked to one of your sisters, Jinhee, who called you in a panic the other morning when someone was apparently inconspicuously looking for you. You both decided to stay at your other sister’s place, but Jinah wasn’t answering when you tried to call.
The bus stop was quiet, something you appreciated for once given your hectic life track as of late. Your thoughts were a mess, but you were hopeful for peace the moment you got on the bus.
You tried to look for somewhere to sit while you waited, but the nearest one had somebody seated on it. He wore a dark hat that obscured his face, not that it mattered since the newspaper he held and read covered his entire face, anyway.
You hesitated, strange unease settling in the pit of your stomach. You shook it off, choosing to sit at the far corner of the bench to avoid interaction, convincing yourself that it was probably just the nerves making you paranoid.
“Chilly day,” the man started casually all of a sudden. His voice was rich in timbre, and it sounded familiar. “Autumn’s slowly catching up now, isn’t it?”
Your heart rate picked up a notch, taken aback by the unwarranted small talk. You glanced in his direction briefly, that dread spreading through your veins, and now that you thought about it, he sounded oddly familiar.
“Yeah,” you forced out a reply, not willing to engage, trying your best to calm down. After all this, you just couldn’t shake the bad feeling in your chest.
“Traveling far? I’d say it’s dangerous for a young lady like you,” he commented, adjusting himself to scoot closer to you.
Alarm bells went off your head as you felt your skin prickle with the attention. You wanted to say that it was none of his business, and now that you listened closer, he didn’t even sound that old, either. “Sure,” you said quickly. “Just want to get away from this city.”
“Good idea,” he chuckled, shuffling the newspaper and folding it away from his face. “I mean, if people were chasing me from hell under, I would run far, far away as well, but you see…”
Your breath was completely snuffed out of your lungs when the man took the hat off of his face, his head turning towards you with a slow, amused smile. “Like we all said, there was no point in running, Y/N,” San’s voice dropped into a whisper. “I like you, Y/N, I really do, but you are one stubborn girl. He does care for you, you know? It’s sick and obsessive, but he does. And now all he wants to do is hurt you.”
Your froze, your blood hardening into ice. The panic hit you like a tidal wave, where had you gone wrong? You made sure to do everything that Jongho told you to do, made sure that you left no traces of yourself, so how? You felt so stupid for not recognizing San so fast.
You shoved yourself up from the bench, but before you could take a step, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with a vice-like grip. “Not so fast,” he murmured, his voice cold now, his earlier casualness gone.
You yanked your arm, but he only tightened his hold. “We’re going back,” he said, his tone final. “And you’re not getting away this time. Unless, you want all the people in here jeopardized,” he gestured his hand all over the station. “Look closer.”
Every instinct screaming at you to run, to fight, to do something, but when you looked around, something didn’t feel right, and then you saw them.
Shivers went up your spine as you recognized some of Seonghwa’s men blended into the crowd like normal people. They were planted, hidden in plain sight, like the briefest flash of the gun tucked in their pants that you knew by now how to spot. They were willing to endanger the people around you just to take you.
It was over. You had no choice but to follow San as he escorted you to the car, the door shutting with a sickening finality. This was the worst case scenario, you’d rather have Mingi because as much of a brute he was, you could predict his actions, with San, you never knew what he was thinking.
Angry tears of shame and sorrow began flowing from your eyes. You knew that this was it for you, your second chance had flown away. Seonghwa and his men had no mercy, and now you’re learning that the hard way.
San wasted no time dragging you out of the car towards your apartment, to your surprise,, but you no longer cared about him, it was Seonghwa that you feared - always had. You could feel it even before you saw him; Seonghwa’s constricting presence was always controlled but deadly.
You were shoved inside the familiar space of your living room, and you didn’t even have to look up to know that he was there, you could just feel him. His power, his rage, hung in the air like thick smoke.
Seonghwa was at the other side of the room, his gaze meeting yours, steady and unwavering. You swallowed your nerves, but there was no point. He just stared at you without any anger or frustration in his face, and perhaps, that was the worst part in all of this. You knew him well enough to see through his well-crafted mask.
You opened your mouth to say something - anything - but what would you say? There was no way you were going to apologize or make any excuses, but the silence was unbearable. Seonghwa wasn’t going to break it anytime soon, but he had no need to. His judging eyes were enough to make you weak in the knees.
He began to walk forward, the clacking of his shoes beneath his feet loud enough to make you wince, and when he reached you, he made no move to touch you like he always did. He did nothing.
Nothing, except hand you a lighter for you to take. “Light it up,” he spoke.
His words were quiet, but there was no mistaking that command in it. Your hands were shaking, having difficulty flicking the lighter open, and it certainly didn’t help that Seonghwa was staring you down. Though you currently hated him, you were careful not to burn his face as your hand neared the cigarette trapped between his lips.
“Open.”
He wasn’t asking, he was instructing. You froze at the implication and everything instinct in you screamed for you to run and resist, but you leaned in as he inhaled deeply before taking the stick out of his mouth and blowing the smoke into yours. The taste of it was raw and bitter, it curled into your lungs along with something else; something that sent a rush of heat towards your chest at the intimacy.
For a while, he didn’t say anything, and you wished that it remained that way even though you were scared that the control he held of himself was going to shatter.
“You think you can walk away from me?” Seonghwa finally spoke again, his voice low, still calm, but it cut through the silence like a blade. “Open.”
It was difficult, but you managed not to cough your lungs out at the heavy puff of smoke that almost made you want to gag. But Seonghwa didn’t care. “Keep your trap open until I tell you to close them,” he ordered with a low snarl.
You did as told, the fear completely paralyzing you. His voice was still controlled, his rage was held so tightly within him that it was like the room was vibrating with the power of it. Tears pooled from the corners of your eyes as Seonghwa still blew, and finally, he threw the cigarette butt away somewhere in the middle of the destruction.
“That’s a good girl,” he chuckled darkly. You yelped when he held your jaw tightly in his hand. “Why can’t you be this obedient all the fucking time?”
His grip tightened, not with the frantic violence of someone losing control, but with the calm, methodical pressure of someone who knew exactly how far they could push before breaking someone completely. "Why can’t you behave, huh? Why?"
You faltered, absolutely not liking the way that sounded in your head. You crossed your arms, the fear you had for him completely fizzing out and dying in your chest. “Now, hold on just a second,” you seethed, all the stress of running away and getting caught chasing your filter away.
Seonghwa’s brow raised. It certainly made him curious, so he let you continue. “Seonghwa, you practically kidnapped me with the notion of letting me go afterwards, and when I try to get away from this hell, you drag me down with you. Did you honestly think that I'm a possession you can cling to?”
You were definitely digging your grave deeper and deeper the more you opened your mouth, but you couldn’t take it anymore. All the hurt, the anxiety, the waiting for when Seongha will finally snap was driving you to the wall. You didn’t know how to carry all of this burden alone.
You took a step forward in a burst of confidence, jutting your finger on his chest and prodding him with it like a child. “Enough is enough, Seonghwa,” you said, your voice low and firm. “We were through, we aren’t together anymore. I don’t belong to you, and I sure as hell don’t want to belong to you anymore.”
He clenched his fists, a flicker of hurt crossing his face. Seonghwa opened his mouth to argue like you knew he would, but you cut him off, your voice stronger than you’ve ever heard it before as you finally stood up to him and stood your ground. “I’ve had enough of you trying to cage me like an animal, you sick fuck. You don’t get to suffocate me with your obsession, you don’t get to decide how I fucking live, breath, and exist.”
Tears stung your eyes. They were a mixture of rage and betrayal. The weight of it all was finally breaking through. “You don’t get to guilt me for wanting to live my life, especially without you, why can’t you understand?”
For a moment, Seonghwa’s gaze softened, as if he was finally looking through you for the first time in a while in a different light. He tentatively raised a hand to hold onto you, and his intentions were pure this time as his hand hovered in the air, but he flinched when you yanked your arm away sharply.
It was too late, you didn’t need that. There was guilt written all over his face, had he really gone too far this time?
“You were never really here for me,” you continued, shaking your head bitterly.
You were done. Done being scared of him, done of losing yourself because of him. Done loving him. “You want to keep a convoluted version of me that you formed in your head, that one that would just stay and follow your every whim, but that’s not who I am, Seonghwa.”
He stood frozen in his spot, his chest caving in as guilt made its way to his heart. He had never intended to fully hurt you, to make you feel that way you did, and for that, he was sorry to a certain extent. Seonghwa’s hand trembled, his palms slick with sweat as angry tears flew down your pretty face. He almost felt bad for you.
Almost.
“The thing I regret the most is you, Seonghwa,” you whispered firmly, but thick with emotion. “I regret ever meeting you and what happened after, but most of all, I regret not leaving you sooner.”
His eyes dropped, the weight of your words crushing his form. “Don’t say that,” he muttered, his voice shaky. His shoulders were slumped, a far cry from his angry and straight they were when you arrived. “I just,” he paused, closing his eyes to take a deep breath. “As fucked up as this is, I do love you, I still do.”
Your breath hitched at your words. “No, Seonghwa. You don’t know what love is, and even if you do, you love me a bit too much that you’re not allowing me to leave a little for myself because you want it all.”
“But, don’t say that you regret everything,” he said exasperatedly. “I loved you with all that I have, I will continue that until I cease to exist. Remember when we went on that trip where you told me you finally loved me, too? Or when we both would stay up all night to watch the stars while we talked about our future?”
He held your hands, almost desperately, as his words just spilled out from him without thinking. “Those were real, that was us, and you might not believe me, but I swear on Ateez those were all true. You can’t deny them.”
It was true that you and Seonghwa had good moments where you wanted them to last forever, but they felt distant, like a fleeting dream that never happened. “I don’t regret our moments,” you pulled your hands away. “I regret that you twisted them into something dark.”
You wanted to deny what he said to make him feel a fraction of all the hardships he had brought upon you, but you couldn’t. Just like his actions, you could never take back your words. I did the right thing, you thought, your heart aching as you stared at the lone tear that fell from Seonghwa’s eye.
He wasn’t the only one. You weren’t ready to let go either, but this was a start. It was a truth you weren’t going to admit to his face. You were in love with Park Seonghwa, and you couldn’t breathe because you always will be, but love wasn’t supposed to hurt like this. Love can never be designed.
Seonghwa stiffened, his mind reeling with all the things you’ve finally let out for him to hear. I regret everything. It echoed like a broken record in his head, and yet, a part of him couldn’t let go. He shook his head, trying to reel in his thoughts before they no longer became his, trying to pull in the beast that was threatening to break free from his mind.
But your words reverberated in his skull, the pressure building on it from the suffocating guilt that covered his head. He didn’t want to hurt you anymore, but it was too late.The realization was like a punch to his gut, and he had no one to blame but himself.
You watched him fight his demons, slight fear coming back into your chest, but you waited to see what he’s going to do.
Seonghwa’s breathing became ragged and laboured as he tried to massage his temples into coherency. Why didn’t he just let you the first time? No, he was doing what he thought was right, because his all-consuming love needed you so much. His mind grew darker and before he could lash out, he walked away from you and turned around.
For a long moment, silence filled the room. You watched Seonghwa try and compose himself, his hands shaking repeatedly while his head shook back and forth. It was like Seonghwa was actively trying to cast out and fight the demons that tried to possess his soul before it could completely take over him.
But when he turned around, the look in his eyes told you that it was too late. Seonghwa knew it was too late, he had done too much, the only way to move was forward.
“I want to kill you,” he softly admitted. “To finally stop your ghost from haunting me. But I can’t live without you.”
The confession left a painful tightness in your throat, but you remained strong and steadfast. You weren’t even angry anymore, you were just tired of him walking over you. “You’ve gone mad,” you stated. “Scaring me isn’t the way to go about this.”
“It is better to be feared than loved, if I cannot have both,” he replied rhetorically, digging into the waist of his pants to pull out a pistol. He stood there, not lifting it yet, but the way he gripped the cold metal of the gun had you trembling in your spot.
You didn’t move - you couldn’t move. Seonghwa’s guilt mixed with his anger, twisting his mind into something else. He never lost control like this, but he had also never felt his heart break into a million pieces like this.
The gun shook in his hand, the barrel still aimed at the floor. It was wrong and he knew it, but you were his everything, and now, not only were you walking away from him, but you were completely disintegrating in his head into nothing but somebody that he used to know.
“Seonghwa,” you whispered, barely audible from the demons that screamed in your own head. “Don’t make me leave like this, please, put the gun down.”
He didn’t move, didn’t say anything. It was worse than you thought, his mind was far more gone than you thought possible. You continued, swallowing your nerves down, more than ready to plead for your life. “Please, Seonghwa. I’m no one, just L/N Y/N, a 27-year old nobody,” your voice cracked.
Your legs finally gave out and you chose to sit on the floor. You looked up at him, putting your hands up like some sort of Hail Mary. “I was a nobody you stumbled upon in that restaurant, I was born in a dinky little town you had no idea existed. My parents are both teachers, and I have two sisters. Please Seonghwa, I haven’t done anything at all in this life, I haven’t lived, I’ve barely just begun, please, I haven’t finished anything at all.”
You sniffled, trying to keep your tears at bay. “D-Don’t kill me,” you pleaded. “I don’t want to die.”
Seonghwa contemplates. You practically watched the gears in Seonghwa’s head turn, his mind racing in a frantic spiral. You were surprised when he gave you the gun, grabbing your hand ro wrap it around the handle, kneeling down to your level on the floor, and pointed the barrel at himself, the tip pressing on his forehead.
“If you shoot me, what will you leave behind?” Seonghwa asked.
Your heart twisted violently at the odd question. It was more cruel than pointing the gun at you, because you knew that your answer would be dependent on whether you will live or not.
“A world without you,” you answered without hesitation.
You couldn't take Seonghwa's unnecessary obsession with you anymore. Seonghwa stared at you, his brows furrowing as he internalized the answer that you gave him.
"Go ahead and shoot, dove," Seonghwa said. "It's the only way you'll ever be free of me."
You stood frozen in your spot, the gun feeling cold in your hands. You've dreamt of this for so long, about completely ridding yourself of Seonghwa so you could get back the freedom he had stolen from you a long time ago. He looked vulnerable and open, while you were given a chance to make that dream come true.
And yet, you couldn't do it.
And Seonghwa knew you couldn't do it. He smirked. You screamed, a pitiful attempt at it, as he dismantled you and grabbed the gun back, only this time, it was pointing at you, instead. "You could have pulled the trigger and painted the walls with my brain," he taunted, cocking the safety lever. "Let's play a game of Russian Roulette."
"What's that going to accomplish?"
"If you give me a minute, I could change your mind," he shrugged. "But if you give me a bullet, I could change your life."
Seonghwa points a gun at your face, point blank, the nozzle pressing down your forehead. "What say you, Y/N?"
He was crazy. You closed your eyes, resigning to your fate. Seonghwa pulls the trigger, and then nothing. You couldn’t believe it, but still, you heaved a sigh of relief. You should have known that the gun was empty.
When you opened your eyes again, Seonghwa was livid. You release a cry that you've been holding. He grabbed your head, furious. "The love I'm willing to give you terrifies you, but death doesn't?”
This was it. It was this moment that will forever haunt you, because this was the moment that you knew something in Seonghwa had snapped.
Your breath got caught in your throat, the reality of the situation sinking in on you. His eyes gleamed with insanity, his pupils dilated with something wild and manic, and the feverish look in them twisted with madness that made your blood run cold. There was nothing human about it. Seonghwa was beyond saving.
“You’re scaring me, Seonghwa, please, let go,” you trembled in his grip, but he didn’t even notice. He was so lost.
“You think love is supposed to be sweet, gentle, or some other bullshit that’s supposed to feel good?” Seonghwa gnarled with unsettling fervor, nails digging into your skin. He shook his head violently. “No, it’s supposed to be consuming, something that takes everything. Just like what you’ve taken from me.”
“I didn’t take anything from you,” you thrashed around from his grip when his other hand held your hips to settle you, not caring if he scratched you at this point with the other. “S-Seonghwa, stop it!”
At the height of your desperation, you collapsed onto the floor with him, it was how hard he was gripping your waist as he tried to run away. His hands slam onto the ground when he ended up underneath him, but what truly horrified you was when he threw his head back and started laughing out loud.
It was no longer the laugh of a regular person, the sound of it was shrill, hollow, and maddened. “Let me explain something to you,” he gritted his teeth, leaning down. “Love can be nurtured and rebuilt. It’s a pathetic attempt to construct something out of nothing, and I will dismantle and reshape yours until you look at me with the same love you used to look at me with before you—”
Your hand flew to his face before you could think, slapping his cheek with such force the crack of it was so loud against the room. You were horrified, you didn’t mean to hurt him, but the idea of what he was saying just sickened you because love can’t be molded from blood and pain. Seonghwa’s eyes darted towards yours, and for a split second, he looked betrayed.
That is, until his face contorted into something grotesque, and he grabbed your hands. You paled, because he started banging his head on your fists violently as he screamed, a horrible primal sound that came from within his guts.
“No, no, no!” Seonghwa bellowed like a madman. “I just want you to love me—”
“Seonghwa, stop it, stop!” You screamed, trying to pry your hands back from him because you were genuinely scared now, not even caring that your hands were hurting really bad from the hardness of his head.
“Stop!”
He paused, eyes bulged with fury. He lets go of your hands and you let them fall to your sides as you watch him get off of you to drop on his knees and bang his fists on your wooden floor. “I can’t take this anymore,” his breath came in jagged rasps. “I”m not crazy, fuck. Fucking hell, Y/N. I just want you.”
He broke down. You sat down, completely scooting away from him, watching as his tears fell down. His sobs, you were terrified of how guttural and broken they sounded. It was the image of a man who had lost his mind so long ago. “How can you do this to me?” Seonghwa growled through his tears. “This is the second time you left me, how can you fucking do this to me?”
His forehead was pressed against the unforgiving surface of the floor. His sobs were quiet at first, and it did hurt to hear. You clearly weren’t the only one suffering whether it was wrong or right. Soon enough, his cries became louder, more devastatingly raw, and more desperate.
Against your better judgment, you not only felt fear for yourself, but for Seonghwa as well. A split second of thought passes through you, had you made him like this? You knew that wasn’t the case, but as you stared at the tremors that shook his entire frame, you couldn’t help but think that you had some sort of part in this.
This wasn’t Seonghwa, what had become of the man you used to love?
Your heart pounded in your chest when his gaze met yours. You didn’t even have time to scream as he charged towards you to grip your shoulders. “Love me,” Seonghwa grinned, teeth bared, eyes widened with insanity. “That should fix this, love me once more, pretty dove. Be mine again.”
“You don’t know what you want,” you back up, terror seeping in your bones.
“No, you don’t understand,” he grabbed your shoulders tighter and a yelp slipped your lips. He tightened his hold, his eyes widening a bit more that he resembled a mental asylum patient. ”Love me.”
Tears fall down your eyes in sheer horror. Seonghwa bites his lips, groaning in pleasure at your scared display. You flinched when the back of his shaking hands tried to caress your cheeks.
It was a mistake. His eyes squint dangerously, yet his lips still remained in that disturbed smile, frozen in his face perpetually. “Seonghwa, please, you’re scaring me—-“
“I love you so much, dove,” he cooed mockingly. His fists bunched up your hair in a tight bun and pulled on your head. “Why is it so fucking difficult for you to love me back?”
Pitiful screams erupt from your mouth as Seonghwa rattled your head around, as if doing so would make you change your mind. Your hands tried to pry his hands, the pain on your scalp blooming bigger. “Seonghwa, s-stop, please! Please!”
To your utter surprise, amidst your dizziness, he does stop. Your eyes were nearly rolling behind your head and if he didn’t stop, you might have thrown up. His tear-streaked, bloodshot eyes emphasized the current state of his mind as he cradles your face in between his hands almost lovingly,
Almost. It felt infantilizing. It made you sick.
“Are you going to love me now?” Seonghwa asked one more time, his eyes flicking between tenderness and madness. “Do you fucking love me now?”
A strained whimper escapes your throat, a choked out cry accompanying it. It was a sick symphony; a travesty made worse when Seonghwa leaned in until his lips were touching the shell of your ear.
"Tell me you love me," he ordered, his voice deceptively soft. "I might do something you and I will both regret if you don't."
You swallowed, quivering with intense dread. Your knees threatened to buckle under all the weight of what Seonghwa was demanding of you at this very moment. "I-I love you, please..."
You held your breath when Seonghwa put his fingers on either side of your mouth, stretching them sideways to give the illusion that you were actually smiling. It was something straight out of a horror film, your tears wouldn't stop falling as he literally forced a smile out of you.
"That wasn't so hard, wasn't it? You did it," he praised, stroking your hair gently like he wasn't doing anything wrong. To be fair, in his mind, he wasn't doing anything wrong.
You jumped when he suddenly grabbed your chin and squeezed your cheeks together. It was slightly painful, and it elicited a pained groan from you. "But, I don’t believe you."
He pushed your face away with such a force, your head snapped to the side. It was when your legs lost their strength and you crumpled to the ground in one heap of a mess. And you knew deep in your heart, Seonghwa’s show of cruelty wasn’t what was truly crushing you.
The most painful thing about all of this was that despite all of this insanity, despite all the chaos and madness, was that you weren’t lying - you still loved Seonghwa. You still loved him with every fiber of your being.
True imprisonment wasn’t him forcing you into a room and locking you in and not letting you go until he was satisfied, it was all these feelings trapped in your heart even if it threatened to tear you apart. Seonghwa was not a good person, he was a monster, yet the love still lingered, clinging to you like a disease.
This pain in your heart, it was the proof that you still loved him. And that is the worst of it, you knew better than this.
Finally, something in Seonghwa’s chest began to lift as he stared at your pitiful form. When he closed his eyes, for what felt like an eternity, images of your smile filled his head. For a moment, he was filled with the love he felt for you for the first time, that pureness before it got tainted with something dark.
“I’ll let you go,” he whispered brokenly. His eyes filled with a broken kind of longing, eyes searching your face to read your expression. “I love you, Y/N. God, I love you. But I’m letting you go. I can’t live like this, either. I have an organization waiting for me.”
He hesitated, his voice hoarse with resignation. “One last time. Before you go. One last night, together. No more pain, no more bitterness. Just us.”
You almost didn’t want to believe it, was Seonghwa really going to let you go? Surely, it couldn’t be this easy. You highly doubted what he said, just staring at him with suspicion. He sighed frustratedly, his hands combing his hair in a mess and letting them hang over his face. You frowned, the state of his hair was the state of his mind. He hated it getting messed up.
His words came out strained. For a second, you felt bad for him. He was giving up, Seonghwa never gave up, but this was it, your ticket to freedom. “I would never stop wanting you, and needing you, Y/N. You have to get away from me.”
“Okay,” you whispered, trying to summon the courage to feel what you had in your heart even if it was for tonight. “One last time.”
“Prove it,” he suddenly blurted out. His eyes locked with yours, and your chest almost exploded with the urgent need in them. “I want to believe you, dove, I really do. I can see it in your eyes. Come with me.”
Here come the excuses that fuel the illusions, but you’d rather feel something, than nothing at all.
You should have felt repulsed, but here you were, grabbing the hand that he offered until he pulled you to the other room, one that you knew all too well. Seonghwa’s lips were on yours before you could think of anything else.
A groan sounds from the back of his throat as he pins you to the wall, his kisses frantic and desperate as if he was trying to feed his own illusions. You opened your mouth to take his intruding tongue, the wet muscle exploring the crevices of your mouth like he’s never done it before.
You wanted to cry, how could you still give him all of you when he was a far cry from the person you used to know? You suddenly didn’t know who was truly insane here, the roots of his madness had slowly uprooted themselves in you and it was difficult to pluck them away at this point.
You hated this, even as his mouth was hot and bruising against yours, because despite the danger in his eyes and the way his hands shook with the need to possess you, your heart still ached to reach for him.
“H-Hwa,” you gasped when he pulled your head backwards by your head, exposing your beck to his desires.”
“Shhh,” he hushed you, burying his head on the crook of your neck, wasting no time planting his love bites to mark you, the one he knew that drove you crazy. Stars aligned your vision as he sucked the delicate skin of your neck, taking his time to graze his teeth on them and alternating between the two.
You’d really rather feel something, than nothing at all.
He grabbed your hand, firmly guiding it to his crotch, using his other hand to unzip his pants and lower them. He wraps your hand on his aching cock, gasping softly as you feel it hard and pulsing in your hand. “F-Fuck, baby,” he hissed. “Touch me, please, I-I need it.”
Your breathing grew faster as you closed your hand around it and began stroking it. His moans of pleasure hit your ear followed by the sensual calling of your name that slipped from his tongue and you couldn’t help but squeeze him. You cried out in surprise when both his hands quickly slipped under your shirt and grabbed your breasts, his fingers digging in deep.
“Seonghwa! H-Hwa,” you breathed out, not caring for the consequences. You forgot the fear, just focusing on his lips that still attacked your neck.
“Take your panties off, dove,” he panted, his ragged breaths against your ear turning the last coherent parts of your brain into mush. “Now, love dove, please.”
You didn’t let his cock go - you didn’t want to - turning your head a bit to whisper in his ear, “Yes, mommy,” in the most sensual voice you’ve ever mustered, surprising even yourself. You obeyed, your panties hitting the floor.
“Oh, fuck, my love, y-you can’t just do that,” he growled, shuddering against your skin.
“W-Why? I like the way you touch me,” you breathed out as his fingers adeptly plucked your nipples with his fingers, rolling them in between to stimulate pleasure out of you in the best way possible.
He chuckled, planting a soft kiss on your temple. “Let go.”
You pouted in dissatisfaction when his hands stopped fondling your breasts and pulling yours away from his cock, but your eyes widened when he lifted one of your legs up and held it up, pressing onto your body impossibly closer. “Look at me,” he grunted. “Look at me.”
You’ve never been fucked standing up before. You kept your eyes on him, almost exploding at how hooded and lidded they were as sweat trailed down from his temples to his lashes. “Hwa, o-oh my God, mmm,” you moaned out when he positioned his cock in between your pussy lips.
He gives you a lazy smile as he rubs the head on your clit, satisfaction rolling through him at the ecstasy written on your face. “You want it?” Seonghwa softly asked even though he was aching to plunge inside you immediately.
You found yourself questioning the reality of what was happening, doubting, but your body had other plans. You haven’t seen Seonghwa smile without any malice in a long, long time. You lifted your head, you had to lean it against Seonghwa’s own forehead since he was basically towering over you. You heard his gulp hard, watched him close his eyes. It was all he needed to know.
“Seonghwa,” you cried out when he started to enter you, his hand snaking on your behind to push you towards his intruding cock, completely filling you to the brim with his throbbing thickness. The both of you still had your tops on, but it didn’t stop his heat from migrating towards you. “S-So good.”
“Oh, fuck,” he growled under his breath, burying his head on your shoulders once more to savour the sensation of your pussy clenching around him as he began thrusting into you with a brutal pace of his hips. “Hold on tight, sweetie, I’m going to fuck you harder, yeah?”
“M-Mhhm—Hwa, mmm, Hwa!” Your cries were loud and grating against your throat, the pleasure overtaking all of your senses. You were pretty sure his men heard it from outside the house. You didn’t care, all you felt was Seonghwa’s hot breath against your ear as he nibbled on it.
You gasped when he pulled out momentarily to peel you off the wall. He turned you around before he pushed you again, growling as his cock entered you from behind this time. You couldn’t stop the blush forming on your cheeks as you faced the floor-length mirror you had in your room, Seonghwa’s dark eyes watching your tits sway back and forth from his thrusts.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” he taunted, his hand groping one of your tits. “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself? Look at you, fucking yourself back on my cock.”
You cried as he hit a particular spot inside you as your hips buckled to meet his. He points at somewhere in particular. “Why don’t you be a sweetheart and give that gun back to me?”
You didn’t care anymore, you were drowning in pleasure, far too gone to think about what he was asking you. You scrambled, getting his pistol from the nightstand where he put it earlier and handed it to him. “S-Seonghwa—”
“I love you so fucking much, you don’t even understand,” he groaned amidst the slapping of skin on skin echoing through the walls of your bedroom. Your hips stilled momentarily when he pointed the gun on the back of your head. “Relax,” he chuckled. “It’s not loaded, remember?”
You licked your lips, actually ashamed at the arousal that coated your inner walls, subconsciously clenching on Seonghwa’s cock at the image you saw on the mirror in front of you. “Fuck me,” he mouthed, digging the gun into your hair.
“Fuck, Seonghwa,” you choked out, moving your hips once more to feel his thick length move inside you. This wasn’t supposed to be hot, it wasn’t supposed to be this much of a turn on for you, but it was.
“You wanna know something, baby?” Seonghwa leaned towards your ear, his grunts spurring your hips to move backwards and forward. “You’re just as sick as I am. You really should be ashamed of yourself for getting turned on about this.”
You moaned impossibly louder as you shoved your behind faster on him over and over again, his full length stretching you out with each thrust. This image will be ingrained in Seonghwa’s brain forever, and he wasn’t going to last another second longer. “G-Gonna come, baby—fuck.”
You gasped, clamping around his length as you felt his warmth fill up your insides. Seonghwa growled loudly, his breathing strained and laboured as he thrust in a couple more times before suddenly pulling out and kneeling down. “H-Hwa, what are you—”
Your eyes rolled at the back of your head at his tongue’s onslaught, your arousal mixed with his sticky cum dripping down from your hole all the way down his tongue as he lapped on it, some of the excess trailing down from your thighs all the way down to your feet. Your hands planted themselves on Seonghwa’s hair, unconsciously pulling on it as you continued to cream in his mouth.
The way his tongue rolled on your sensitive bud had your knees buckling, but Seonghwa made sure to keep you up, not even bothering to pause, and just like a hurricane, the force of your orgasm knocked the wind out of your lungs as the hot, searing flash of white blinded you for a couple of second.
It set you on fire, and he dove at your pussy with enthusiasm. Seonghwa took long, broad licks of your pussy, pausing every so often to push his whole tongue into you, wiggle it around, and then focus on your clit.
He repeated this pattern a dozen times, you had your hands in his hair, and as you approached orgasm, your grip got tighter and tighter. Seonghwa groaned at the sensation, and finally, you let loose with another loud moan, forcing his face into you even further as you reached your second climax. “Seonghwa…”
“Just like that, baby, come on my tongue, mmm,” Seonghwa coaxed you through the wild shaking of your body until you let out the deepest sigh accompanied with a small whine of overstimulation. His licks slowed down, his hands caressing your soft thighs, before finally stopping to stand back up.
“Get on the bed,” he held your arm and slightly pushed you towards it without even waiting for your response.
You blinked repeatedly at him. “W-What?”
“You heard me,” he deadpanned, unbuttoning his crisp, white shirt before tossing it randomly somewhere along with the gun. “On your back. I’m not done fucking you.”
You weren’t supposed to be turned on by that, but you were. You swallowed when you looked down and realized he was still fully hard even after coming inside you. You did as told, trying hard not to stutter in your steps as you laid on your bed, letting Seonghwa spread your legs to position himself in between them.
“Arms up,” he whispered. You did as told without hesitation, letting him also take your shirt off along with your bra until you were completely bare beneath him. He groaned at the sight of you, especially your glistening pussy, still half-full with his cum. “Stubborn as you are, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, leaning down to capture your lips.
“I want you inside me," you whispered to his mouth and his eyes closed in bliss as you guided his hard cock to your wet, slick pussy.
For a moment, you forgot how deranged he was. Seonghwa poured all the love, no matter how crazed it was, his affection, and his passion in the kiss. You quickly accommodated him, kissing him back just as passionately, immediately tasting yourself and him on your tongue. “Mhhm,” you whimpered as you felt his cock slowly slide into you.
He pulled away to whisper against your mouth. “Wrap your legs around me, love.”
You did as told, moaning in his mouth as he pushed himself more until he was, once again, all the way inside you as deeply as he could. You swallowed Seonghwa’s moans, his thrusts shallow. He would pull in just enough for the tip to remain before slowly thrusting back into you.
He was as gentle as possible, but it wasn’t going to last long. You hoped it didn’t last.
“Fuck, Y/N, this pussy is mine,” Seonghwa growled, giving it to you exactly as you wanted - hard, fast, rough - not caring if you were a screaming mess. He just kept pounding you down the mattress and it shook the bed with how forceful he was.
“Tell me you love me, even if it’s just for tonight,” he begged, eyes filled with unshed tears as he stared down at you. “Even if it’s a lie, tell me you love me.”
But that was the thing. It wasn’t going to be a lie. His eyes widened a bit when he realized that you weren’t going to be lying.
“I love you, Hwa. I love you,” you sniffled with tears of your own.
He smiled. He smiled. “I love you, too, my dear,” he whispered. “I really do.”
“Hwa, Hwa, H-Hwa, f-fuck,” you clenched at the sight of him on top of you, the usual prim and proper look on him long gone, replaced by someone primal who devoured you whole.
“Louder, baby,” he groaned out loudly, his eyes dropping heavily with lust, his hips slamming onto your ass obscenely. “I want the entire neighbourhood to know who you belong to, f-fuck.”
His groans were just as loud as yours, it was honestly such a turn on. He smirked at your fucked out expression. “Look at you, baby,” he chuckled darkly, leaning down to press lightly on your neck. “Fuck, look at you going dumb around my cock, yes, squeeze me, love, squeeze my fucking cock.”
You didn’t want to be fucked anymore, you needed to be destroyed. “Fuck, yes, just like that, my love, feel my fucking cock deep in you,” he panted out, slamming into you even harder.
He was going deeper in you with all his might, sweat dripping down from his forehead to your chest. His arms rippled as he supported his own weight and you felt his back muscles moving as he continued with his assault on your poor pussy.
“D-Don’t stop, Hwa, please, keep f-fucking,” you begged, stars lighting up your vision everytime you felt the tip of his cock hit the back of your pussy.
You could hear Seonghwa groan and curse earnestly, barely audible over the hard smacks of your hips against the solid wall of his thighs. You could barely keep yourself together as he used you like a toy.
“My only purpose is to fuck you over and over again,” he gritted out, holding your head in his hands as your body went back and forth on his cock. “You ready to take my cum again?”
You nodded, eyes wide in anticipation. “Y-Yes, mommy, give me your cum, please.”
His hips stuttered, his mouth dropping down, roughly pounding into you. “You, fuck,” he moaned out, his voice roaring loudly in the air. “Y-You will never, ever be satisfied with someone else once I’m through with you.”
Seonghwa’s face twisted in concentration, his teeth gritting as his thrusts slowed down, and you gasped audibly when you felt another round of his seed warm the walls of your pussy. “Y/N, dove, a-ah, fuck,” he whimpered, his voice high pitched with all the pleasure he felt as he pulsated inside you.
You were delirious at this point, but when he gripped your legs tightly once more to hoist them up his shoulders, you sobered up really quick. You squealed pathetically, his reinsertion setting your nerves on fire. “H-Hwa, f-fuck–”
“That’s it, baby,” Seonghwa moaned, his eyes fluttering close, biting his bottom lip at the quivering sensation that ruled his body. Overstimulation threatened to snap his cock into two, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted all of you.
“Baby, fuck, ngh,” he whined, his deep voice absolutely nowhere to be found and, God, it absolutely did something to you. His eyes closed shut, his hips stuttering in the cadence of his never-ending thrusts. You didn’t have time to be surprised, Seonghwa was insane. Surely, it didn’t just stop there.
Your lips crashed together once more in a hungry kiss, Seonghwa’s hips pistoning into you in and out, grunts of pain reaching your ears. “I’m g-gonna keep fucking you,” he gritted his teeth, pain blooming on his groin, pleasure just right behind it. “I’m not gonna stop…”
He completely engulfed you in his arms as your legs dropped down to his waist to tighten your grip on him, pulling him impossibly closer to you, grinding onto his body with a delicious friction.
If it was possible, the overstimulating pain made Seonghwa rougher, more intense, and more desperate than ever before. The bed squeaked beneath you but you could barely hear it over Seonghwa’s roars. “You’re mine, Y/N, you’re all mine, fuck,” he growled, his teeth sinking into your shoulder. “Mine.”
“Seonghwa, a-ah, S-Seonghwa, wanna c-come,” you whined at the pain, but it just made him bite deeper. It was all you needed to feel that familiar tickle in your groin, and your heat began to wrap around him even tighter at the sensation. “O-Oh, S-Seonghwa, come inside me—”
It was all he needed to come undone. You gasped audibly when he put his hands behind your head to forcibly make you look him in the eye. His eyes blazed with fury and determination amidst the pain of his cock driving in and out of you. The insanity was back, and he made sure you saw it.
“I’ll breed you. Put my babies in you so you’d never leave me again,” he panted, hilting himself with one final thrust before yelling out on your shoulders, barely muffling the sound.
You weren’t completely drowning in that much pleasure to agree. “H-Hwa, baby, t-this isn’t right,” you whimpered, mouth dropped open at the tingling sensation another orgasm wanted to bring.
You felt his seed shoot inside you one final time and it was all you needed. “Come, baby, come on my cock, please, please, please, come on my fucking cock,” he gasped as the pleasure become to much for him.
Your body began to seize against his hold. Seonghwa covered your lips with his with a kiss that spoke volumes. He let you moan onto his tongue as your cunt pulsed all around his cock, reaching a euphoria your mind couldn’t comprehend. You both stayed locked together, savouring the comedown, but not really ready to let go as of yet.
And when Seonghwa finally pulled out, he couldn’t help the growl that emitted from the back of his throat as his cum began spilling out of you in copious amounts. Even he was surprised at how much cum was spilling out of your used, puffy cunt. His cock was numb.
He smirked, it was all worth it.
“So, this is it, I suppose,” you breathed out, laying down in bed tiredly, carefully lifting the blankets to cover yourself. Not that you needed to keep decency. “I hope you know that I do care for you, but I also want you to know that we both need time away to heal from each other.”
You looked at him, searching his face for any sign of manipulation or desperation, but all you saw was raw, unguarded emotion. The kind you hadn’t seen from him in months. He sighed, turning to his side and facing you. “Can I ask you something?” Seonghwa muttered.
You nodded your head, awaiting his question. “Have you ever wondered what we could have been if I was just Park Seonghwa? Not the mafia lord, not the criminal, not the murderer. Just Seonghwa.”
What he was asking of you hit you harder than you thought. It made sense that he’d ask, it was the main reason you left, after all. “Every single day,” you admitted. “I would imagine we’d be married by now, maybe we’d have had our first child, too.”
Seonghwa let out a laugh that sounded more self-deprecating than anything. It was soft, but full of pain - the pain of recognizing that the what-ifs would remain just that. “When you walked out on me,” he exhaled slowly. “I could’ve stopped you, I could’ve tried harder, maybe made more false promises. Believe it or not, I did give you space.”
“You did,” you stated, rather than asked, your voice cracking. You weren’t ready to talk about these, but this might be the last time you’d ever see Seonghwa.
“I did,” he confirmed. “Would you have come back to me if I didn’t chase you around?”
You swallowed the lump in your throat. You let the question linger in the air, because this was something you’d never asked yourself before. “I don’t know,” you answered. “And we’ll both never know. We can’t change what happened, and we can’t rewrite the past.”
Seonghwa met your gaze again, and this time, there was no anger and no regret, just the aching kind of understanding as his stare was fixed towards you. There was something in the intensity of his stare that made you catch your breath. He didn’t blink, nor did he look away. He just stared at you.
“In a perfect world, you’d want me, need me, as much I do,” he whispered, jutting his hand out to caress your cheek. “I knew you’d never want this, but I also know because you’d have come running back to me anyway because you love me. You’d have surrendered to me and if you did, I wouldn’t chase you like a fool. I would be letting you go.”
“I’m tired of thinking, Seonghwa. I really am. There’s not much I can think of but the reality where we’re in right now,” you said.
“And I really wish that you didn’t think. I wish that you knew for certain. But unfortunately, this world is not perfect. Tell me what you want, Y/N. Right here, right now.”
You opened your mouth, but the words didn’t come right away. The way his eyes reflected all the hope, albeit only a little, crushed you. “I want to be free,” you finally said, the words strange in your mouth. “We both need to stop living in a lie, Seonghwa. I’m not the same, and neither are you.”
It hurt for you to say these things out loud, but it needed to be done. He didn’t say anything for a while, and you could tell he was hurting, as well. This man was once your world, but not anymore. You can’t carry him and the weight of his pain on your shoulders anymore. “Will you set me free? Can you let me go once and for all?”
It takes Seonghwa several seconds to fully understand your request, but when he finally does, a nauseating sensation overwhelms him, a sickness settling in his stomach, twisting around his insides. He always believed there was nothing he wouldn’t do for you, that’s how much he loved you, yet you just managed to find something.
“One more question,” he insisted softly.
“What?”
“I know you still love me. Might be more than I love you, might be less. Will you ever stop loving me?”
The question was simple, but the way it knocked all the air out of your lungs made you think otherwise. You wanted to lie, wanted to look Seonghwa in the eye and tell him the opposite of what you truly felt for him. In fact, it would be very easy to lie to his face because this was your freedom.
Seonghwa’s gaze was steady, like he already knew the answer, but needed to hear it from you. He held his breath, still waiting for you to say something, but you were too frozen to do so.
You avoided eye contact. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” he answered a bit too quickly for your liking.
“No, I don’t think I will,” you admitted, finally at peace with the truth, because deep down, you knew that this was the last time you’d ever say it out loud. Even though you still loved Seonghwa dearly, you had to let go for good.
For the first time, the truth didn’t hurt you.
Something resolute passes through his eyes before he finally breaks eye contact with you, repositioning himself on the bed to lay down on his back to stare at the ceiling. “I’m moving to New York next week. Permanently. We all are,” he said. “Operations there are far more beneficial for me since the crime rate will help a lot.”
As much as that statement felt like a punch to the gut for you, a small part of your brain was telling you that this was a good thing because the finality of you and Seonghwa not seeing each other again was coming into place.
This was why you couldn’t be with Seonghwa no matter how much you loved each other. His ties to the mafia and illicit dealings was the least of your concern - it was the danger that will forever lurk with him. You were never ready for the emotional and psychological toll it will inflict you. You didn’t want Seonghwa to come home with a bullet between his eyes or have to visit him in jail. Never mind the constant target for retaliation should something go wrong with an enemy group.
“I see,” you replied, not knowing what else to say.
“Let’s have coffee one last time before I leave,” he pleaded. “Would you grant me that right even though you owe me nothing but ignorance?”
It was innocent enough, but it wasn’t that simple. You wanted to establish that line between the two of you as early as now, yet there was that longing that always reared its ugly head whenever you tried to push it down.
Why was it that when you were this close to pulling away, Seonghwa makes your heart flutter again? What is it about him that kept pulling you back?
The walk to the cafe was nerve-wracking for you, to say the least. The last time you were here, you didn’t know where you stood with Seonghwa. It hasn’t even been four months since then and yet, it felt like it was a lifetime ago.
You hesitated, your foot rooted to the ground directly outside the entrance. The closer you got to going in, the wider the hole in your gut got. You figured it was just the nerves, you were finally saying goodbye to your tormentor - as fucked as that sounded - after all the days you were trapped in confusion and pain.
You took a deep breath, choosing to leave your nerves behind and making your choice, something you haven’t made for yourself in a while.
You weren’t ready, not in the slightest, but there he was. Seonghwa sat in the same corner where you were the last time, and for once, he wasn’t purposefully late, or rather, he chose not to humiliate you this time and made you wait to no end.
You couldn’t help but stare at him. He was staring out to the world in deep thought, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. He wasn’t even doing anything, yet his quiet elegance still commanded respect. Seonghwa leaned casually against his chair, his dark, tailored coat hugging his body just right and his hair neatly combed up - far from the hot mess of a man who was on top of you the other week.
Your heart thudded in your chest. He looked like he was leaving for good.
And then, he was suddenly looking at you. “Hey,” he whispered, almost unsure. It was a type of voice you haven’t heard from him in so long. The last time you heard it was when he was asking you to marry him one cool, summer night a year and a half back.
“Hey,” you smiled tightly, putting your lips in a thin line as you tentatively approached the table. Truth be told, you wanted to walk away. Something was gnawing in your chest. But the part that loved him so, the part that wanted to let go, didn’t.
“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” Seonghwa gestured to your seat, even going as far as pulling your chair for you and pushing it back for you to sit on like a gentleman. He had a serene smile on his face when he went back to his. “But, I’m glad you’re here.”
He, once again, gestures his slender hands, but this time, at the table in front of you. He already took the liberty to order some food. It was one of the rarer things that you didn’t take offense to when it came to him; as warped as his mind was, he did cater to your needs very well, and that included the type of food you liked to eat and how you liked your coffee.
“Thank you,” you murmured, taking a small sip of your vanilla iced coffee, pleased to find that Seonghwa had already requested extra syrup. It was extra sweet this time, though, but you weren’t complaining. “When are you leaving?”
His sharp eyes calculated your every move, lingering on your lips a little too long before his own lips twitched ever so slightly. “In two hours,” he replied. “Most of our stuff is already in transit. I just have to be physically there. I really just wanted us to end on a decent note.”
You blinked, not totally processing his words at first. It hit you like stone when it did. You smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It can’t get more decent than this,” you murmured. It was true, this was the first time that the strain between the two of you wasn’t crackling in the air.
You took another sip of your coffee, just so you weren’t sitting so awkwardly and so stiffly. The aftereffects of the months of unresolved tension were making you dizzy, an almost surreal sensation clouding your vision. Huh, you thought, you underestimated how stressed you actually were.
“You okay?” Seonghwa asked, brows furrowed together, his lips strung in a deep frown. There was an imperceptible shift in his expression, but the haze was too much for you to calculate what it really meant.
“Yeah,” you said, taking a deep breath and hoping that the dizziness would pass. “I’m just a little tired.”
You booked a little vacation on the seaside for tomorrow, something you didn’t tell Seonghwa. You had no need to. You were looking forward to that as you were seated, thanking your lucky stars that you actually booked it at the last minute. You needed to unwind after all of this.
“Are you sure you’re okay? You’re pale, love,” Seonghwa raised his hand to touch you, something you rejected with a wave of your hand, and something he surprisingly respected.
He sounded a little more insistent now, but he still held that calmness he was known for in the criminal world, but in the end, all he could do was sigh in resignation. “If you insist,” he said, even though he looked like he wanted to say more.
The air felt cold, heavier, and now thicker with all the unspoken things between the two of you that would remain just that - unspoken. Seonghwa resembled a man who had carried the weight of regret for far too long, but even he knew that it was too late.
“I won’t keep you too long,” he said, his words slow as if he was dragging them out. They were raw, nonetheless. “I just wanted to say goodbye properly. The right way.”
He paused to smile thinly. “I just…had to see you before we went. I’m not going to ask for your forgiveness, Y/N, and I suppose that’s the only real thing I will always be sorry for because I can’t control the way my heart yearned for you, no matter how wrong it got.”
“It’s okay,” you almost scoffed. “I don’t know if I can forgive you, anyway.”
“Touché,” he chuckled.
You swallowed hard, a little disappointed, but to be honest, you were fine with that. You can respect honesty and self-awareness. “But, you think this would be enough, Seonghwa? I don’t mean that in a bad way.”
The room began to tilt as you swayed only a bit, nothing too noticeable, but it was enough nausea to concern you. His lips curled as he stared at you, but the hesitation in which he ran his hand through his hair in frustration distracted you.
“I don’t know, little dove, I don’t expect it to be enough. I guess I just needed you to know that I never meant to hurt you like I did, and maybe that’s not enough, but it’s all I have left,” he stared at you. “ I wish things had been different. I really did. But now, I have to go.”
You set the coffee down, your hands clammy and your mouth went dry, the dizziness getting too detrimental for you to concentrate. Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed as he watched you carefully. Too carefully.
“Good luck, Seonghwa,” you said, quiet and sincere. You got up and stepped back from the table, from him. You had to go, you were starting to feel really unwell. “I’m sorry I can’t support you with the path you’re taking. I wish you happiness you couldn’t have with me, I really do.”
“Sweetheart, wait…”
He stood up as well, his eyes searching yours like he was waiting for something more, but there was something else underneath it, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Before he could say something, you turned around towards the door and began to briskly walk away.
Walking away from Seonghwa felt wrong, but what was worse was the growing unease you felt - the same one you did before you even entered the cafe. Your legs were unsteady, you couldn’t even take a step away from the entrance. Black spots began to dance from your vision, it was getting more difficult to stay upright.
You gave in, your body feeling lighter as you felt yourself begin to tumble down the floor, but before you could, steady hands guided you upwards until your head pressed onto a firm chest. You didn’t have to look up to know who it was.
“S-Seonghwa,” you slurred, leaning further into him against your will just so you couldn’t fall. “W-What’s going on…”
You felt him dig his fingers firmly on your shoulders, not enough to hurt, but enough for him to hold you to your place. He pushes you gently against the wall, tilting your lolling head to his face.
Your blood ran cold. The look in his face told you everything you needed to know. His thumb forcibly opened your lips and the realization hit you so hard it left you reeling - the coffee. You weren’t supposed to feel like this, it wasn’t the anxiety. He smirked, almost smug.
“You were always so wary of me,” he chuckled darkly, leaning in to give you a small peck on the side of your lips before licking the small trail of saliva that pooled outside of your mouth. “I’m surprised it took you this long, I thought you’d see it coming, at least.”
“You…spiked m-my,” you managed to choke out, your breath coming in short gasps.
He didn’t seem alarmed. In fact, there was a calmness to him, as though he had expected this reaction, as though this was all part of his plan. You tried to push him away even though you could barely stand. “Seonghwa, I-I don’t f-feel well,” you admitted.
His smirk fell, genuine concern bleeding onto it as he cursed under his breath. “I’m sorry, love, you were probably just sensitive to it,” he frowned. You hated that you knew what he meant. “Let’s get you to the car—”
“N-No, let go,” your body swayed, until your legs had finally given out on you, your eyes fluttering close.
“Hey, hey, stay with me,” his voice was sharp, laced with panic. You felt yourself being lifted bridal-style. You could hear him calling your name over and over. “Come on, baby, don’t give out on me now,” he urged, the desperation in his voice betraying his calm facade.
“Please, I can’t do this alone,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “This is the only way. I’ll take care of you, yeah? I want to do right by you. I need you to believe me…”
He was scared. He actually hadn’t meant to go this far.
Everything went black. The last thing you remembered was the sudden pressure of his desperate hands gripping you as if he was afraid that if he let you go that you'd suddenly disappear. His eyes shone with plea, full of panic, as his lips trembled with unspoken words.
When you came to, a dull headache throbbed in the back of your eyes. A sense of disorientation weighed heavily in your chest. The first thing you noticed was that you were sitting upright, your head leaning against a hard, bony surface. A shoulder.
You groaned, trying to remember how you got here, and everything came to you all at once; walking somewhere, the coffee, the nausea, Seonghwa—
Seonghwa.
You groaned, immediately sitting straight and trying to rub your eyes and your head to remove the bleary sleepiness remaining in you, but that wasn’t what caught you off-guard. In fact, fainting in Seonghwa’s arms seemed to be the least of your problems for today.
You froze, your heart leaping to your throat when you saw the cold metal of the handcuff around your wrist. Your hand instinctively tried to pull it away, even going as far as to prying it away with your other hand, but all that did was hurt you, your skin automatically reddening at the friction all the pulling was causing you.
Things just got worse from here then on. You figured that you’d try to pull the source of where your handcuffs were connected to, but to your horror, you realized that the other end was connected to Seonghwa’s own wrist, effectively tying you two together.
He stared at you panicking, his face drawn with exhaustion, but he was watching you closely as everything started to dawn on you. Something cloudy seizes his chest as you look up at him, tears reddening your eyes. His gaze softens, but relief shines through it, nonetheless.
“You’re awake,” he tenderly notes, like he was afraid that you’d get startled and lash out. He leans forward, his hand gingerly holding onto your face to wipe your unfallen tears with his thumb. “Are you okay? Is there anything that hurts? Listen, I know this looks bad, and I get it, but please, give me the chance to explain everything.”
You were stunned speechless, not being able to render opening your mouth to even refute his excuses. Everything was overwhelming, and truth be told, your head still wasn’t fully there. You couldn’t even lean away from Seonghwa’s touch even though you wanted nothing but to spit on his face.
It was one thing to be infuriated with Seonghwa, but more so, you were mad at yourself. How could you be so naïve? How could you be so blatantly stupid as to even meet up with him in the first place and let your guard down?
Your breathing became ragged despite Seonghwa’s gentle attempts to calm you down. You had basically signed your life to him the moment you agreed to meet up with him in the cafe, because this was his plan all along, and you went along with it like a puppet in his sick version of a show.
Trusting Seonghwa was the equivalent of jumping off of a cliff willingly. You had a first-hand taste of how manipulative, how insane, he actually was, and you still went. You couldn’t even afford to feel bad for yourself since you knew that the fault wasn’t fully his own.
You pulled on your wrist, even though it was pointless, but his hand reached across the small space, gently touching your arm. “I never meant for things to go this far,” he explained, his voice strained. “But I need you to understand—”
“Understand what, Seonghwa? You lied to me,” you gritted your teeth, your heart thudding painfully against your chest as you tried to keep more of your tears at bay. “You lied to me, you sick son of a bitch! You said you were going to let me go! I thought the mafia had honour—”
“I know, dove, I know, but honour be damned if I can’t be with you,” he exasperatedly explained, but you weren’t having it.
“What the hell does that even mean? You kidnapped me! I’ve lost count, Seonghwa,” you seethed, pulling on the handcuffs again, but to no avail. That was when you looked around and realized you didn’t know where you were. “Where even are we?”
Seonghwa’s eyes softened and he leaned back in his seat, letting out a slow breath as he tried to gather his thoughts, the handcuffs connected to him slightly pulling on your wrists. “I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away, and I’m not trying to make excuses. But I couldn’t just let you go. I couldn’t let you walk away and forget everything we had. I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am.”
“Seonghwa,” you trailed off, not liking where this was going, your lips quivering as you spoke. “You said you were going to let me go.”
“I know what I said,” he said. His voice dropped lower, a touch of vulnerability seeping in. “I can’t let you throw it all away, love. The other week, you said you still loved me, and that you were never going to stop loving me. Tell me, how am I supposed to just leave and forget all about that?”
He sighed, long and heavy, looking you straight in the eye. “How am I supposed to leave my heart, knowing that it still beats for the both of us?”
Your mind raced, thoughts tangled in a whirlwind. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. You’d made your choice. You’d walked away from, finally accepted that you just weren’t meant to be, and that you needed to let go to move on.
He shifted, his gaze never leaving yours, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of something in him—hope.
“We can start over, leave everything once and for all,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “No more games. No more lies. We could just be together with a new life.”
You stopped breathing for a second. “W-What do you mean?”
Seonghwa paused, looking genuinely confused for a second. He was taken aback, it hit him that you actually didn’t know where you were. The silence was what prompted you to actually look at your surroundings. You blinked, finally realizing the real reason why you were sitting down when you woke up.
There is a smooth, unnatural hum of an engine beneath you, vibration so low that you wouldn’t even have noticed it.The plush leather seats you were on and in front of you, the overhead area where carry-on luggages usually went to if they were too big to put on the floor, and the stale smell of uncirculated air around the small space.
You were on a plane. Specifically, Seonghwa’s private jet.
“S-Seonghwa,” you yelped, true fear and panic settling in your chest at the prospect of being trapped here with him.
“You were asleep for half the flight. We’ll be landing in New York in six more hours,” he said quietly.
You repeatedly shook your head in denial, hoping to wake up from this nightmare. Seonghwa just watched you, his expression a mixture of hurt and concern. “I know you’re scared,” he whispered. “I know I hurt you, but I promise I’ll never hurt you again. “
You looked at him, his eyes full of conviction, full of hope. He was sincere. But that only made it harder.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you pulled away slightly, the weight of the handcuff pulling you back.
His face shifted, pain flashing across his features, but he didn’t let go. “Please,” he said, his voice trembling. “Don’t make me lose you again.”
Your hands tugged at the cuffs again, the metal biting into your wrist, but all that did was make him wrap his big hands around yours. “I’m not asking for a second chance,” he said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I’m asking for a real chance. A chance to prove that we can make this work. That we can make us work. I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you. And we’ll get through this together.”
You didn’t want to break down in front of him. You didn’t want to show him this vulnerability, this weakness. But you couldn’t stop.
Through your blurry eyes, you saw him with his gaze soft but filled with something else. Pity. It also had helplessness and guilt, as if seeing you break down before him was a painful reminder of how far he had pushed you.
With that, you hunched over your seat and buried your face in your hands as the tears streamed down your face in hot torrents. The sobs came in uncontrollable waves, violent and loud, your chest heaving as if you might suffocate.
You felt Seonghwa’s hand rub your back soothingly, but you didn’t care to push him anymore. It was over. All the fighting you did for your freedom was for absolutely nothing. The weight of that truth pressed down on your chest, suffocating.
You didn’t even try to stop Seonghwa from pulling you from your chair to make you sit on his lap as he hugged you tight, burying your face on the crook of his shoulder as your tears came hard, relentless, spilling down your cheeks as your chest heaved with sobs you couldn’t contain anymore. Your hands trembled as you clutched at his clothes, trying to steady yourself.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said softly as he hushed you with comfort that you didn’t want. “I’ll take care of you. We’ll start over, fall in love with each other all over again. You won’t be a part of the organization if you don’t want it, just please, stay with me.”
Your hysterical cries didn’t stop and all Seonghwa did was comfort you with words - words that he actually meant - but what you didn’t see was the pride and satisfaction written on his face as he stared at your crying form. In his own quiet way, he savored every single moment of it.
And he smiled because he knew - and you knew - that you had nowhere else to go. He won.
⤷ word count — 11.7k
⤷ kinktober 2025 taglist — open !
⤷ permanent taglist — open !
⤷ warnings — smut (minors dni), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dacryphilia, oral (f receiving), idol!seonghwa, non-idol!reader, established relationship, mentions of alcohol, teasing from the members (especially wooyoung & yunho), possessive!seonghwa, frustrated!seonghwa, mild degradation, overstimulation, cervix kissing, marking (hickeys), light aftercare, fluff
.‧₊࿐ summary — park seonghwa’s patience was known to run long—utterly, painfully long. but even he had limits. and nothing tested them quite like his own members poking fun at him for being the gentleman in bed, teasing that he was too soft, too proper, too vanilla for someone like you. they should’ve known better than to push him. because once seonghwa’s restraint starts to crack, there’s no telling how far he’ll go to remind everyone—especially you—that patience doesn’t mean mercy.
The night was alive and bustling, the city’s outside noise long forgotten, replaced by the loud atmosphere inside the reserved restaurant. Laughter and chatter bounced off the walls, the smell of grilling meat filling the space along with the sharp clink of shot glasses and plates being passed around.
It was late, but the room felt anything but tired—the boys and their staff were still buzzing from the adrenaline of filming their latest music video.
Most of them hadn’t even bothered to wash off their makeup, though the heavy clothes were gone, swapped for soft sweaters and t-shirts. It was comfortable, messy, loud—the kind of night where everyone could finally breathe.
You were seated between Seonghwa and Wooyoung, nodding animatedly as the younger excitedly recalled something that had happened earlier.
“No, but listen—” Wooyoung slammed his palm on the table, eyes sparkling as he leaned closer, “Jongho was so sure he could do it. And then—” He broke into loud, almost maniacal laughter, “—he slipped and fell flat on his ass. It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen!”
You snorted, unable to help the laughter bubbling out of you, even as your eyes flicked toward Jongho. The poor youngest looked seconds away from pouncing on Wooyoung.
“Hey!” Jongho barked, cheeks red, grabbing a fistful of napkins and chucking them across the table. Wooyoung, of course, only stuck his tongue out in response, grinning like a menace.
You quickly sent Jongho an apologetic smile, but your laughter slipped out anyway, especially when the napkins fluttered pathetically across the table instead of hitting their target.
“Stop wasting those,” Hongjoong muttered from the other end, picking up the still-clean napkins before shaking his head in exasperation.
Yunho, trying and failing to stifle his own laughter, leaned over with the tongs in his hand. “Meat’s ready,” he said, sliding the grill closer toward you.
You reached for the tongs immediately, eager to help. But before your hand could touch them, a sharp ‘tsk’ clicked from beside you. Seonghwa shot you a look—disapproving, stern—before sliding the tongs out of Yunho’s grip and into his own hand.
His arm, which had been resting loosely around your waist, fell away, only for his other hand to reach across and place a few pieces of perfectly grilled meat onto your plate.
You blinked at him, lips parting in surprise before you let out a small pout. “I could’ve done that myself.”
His dark brows lifted, eyes flicking down to meet yours in that way that made your stomach twist. There was no real bite in his gaze, but there was a quiet challenge, a silent dare that lingered between you.
“But I wanted to,” Seonghwa replied simply, his voice low and steady, as if that was all the explanation he needed.
You couldn’t help but smile at him, warmth blooming in your chest despite his stubbornness. Leaning up, you pressed a quick kiss to the sharp line of his jaw. The touch was soft, almost fleeting, but enough to make him pause. His lips twitched upward into a small smile, his hand slipping back to your waist with more intent this time.
“What was that for, pretty girl?” he asked, his voice dropping even lower, threaded with that playful curiosity that always made your heart stumble.
You ducked your head a little, smiling shyly as you reached for your chopsticks. “That’s my thank you kiss,” you said, shrugging casually.
Then, feigning an exaggerated pout, you added, “You don’t like it?” You tilted your head as though genuinely sad, but the gleam in your eyes betrayed you.
Seonghwa laughed—that soft, breathy laugh of his that you always loved. The loose curls of his hair shifted across his forehead as he turned, his arm pulling you closer until your hip was flush against his side. His other hand found its way back to your thigh, drawing lazy circles against your skin beneath the table.
“No,” he murmured, leaning closer so only you could hear. “I loved it.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks, and you quickly busied yourself by reaching for the plate of lettuce near you. With careful hands, you grabbed a fresh piece, adding a slice of meat and a small portion of rice before wrapping it neatly.
Turning, you held it up toward Seonghwa, who raised a brow at the gesture before immediately leaning down and opening his mouth obediently.
He took the bite straight from your hand, lips brushing your fingers ever so slightly as he did, and hummed in approval. “Mhm,” he mumbled through the mouthful, chewing happily before glancing at you with softened eyes. “Thank you, baby.”
The casual endearment made your stomach flutter, and you hummed in satisfaction as you wrapped another one—this time for yourself. You popped it into your mouth with a small grin, the savory flavors bursting on your tongue as you leaned back into him.
From across the table, Wooyoung made a dramatic gagging sound. “Seriously?”
Seonghwa didn’t miss a beat. He turned his head just enough to throw the younger a shit-eating grin, the kind that made Wooyoung’s nose wrinkle instantly. His hand slid higher from your thigh, curving firmly around your waist this time, pulling you tighter against him until there was no space left between you.
“What?” Seonghwa drawled, voice dripping with smugness. “You jealous?”
“Jealous?” Wooyoung scoffed, but his ears were already turning pink. “Of that? Please.”
You hid your laugh behind your hand, but Seonghwa wasn’t done. He leaned down slowly, pressing the softest kiss against your temple—lingering there just long enough for Wooyoung to groan out loud.
“Dude!” Wooyoung whined, throwing his head back dramatically as if the world itself was ending.
Across the table, his eyes immediately sought out Yeosang, desperate for backup. “Back me up here, Yeosang. Tell them they’re disgusting.”
Yeosang didn’t even hesitate, he shook his head quickly, lips pressed into a thin line. “Nope. No way. Don’t drag me into this.”
He stabbed his chopsticks into his bowl like the situation in front of him was above his pay grade. “You started it, you deal with it.”
But that only made Wooyoung’s grin spread wider, the gears in his head already turning. He brushed his hair back dramatically, leaning toward Yeosang with mischief written all over his face.
Yeosang raised a brow, side-eyeing him warily. “What?” he asked, tone sharp. “I’m right.”
“You are,” Wooyoung said sweetly, almost too sweetly. Then, before anyone could process what he was doing, he pushed his chair back and stood up.
Yeosang blinked owlishly, confused. “…What are you doing?”
Wooyoung only leaned down, hands shooting out to grab Yeosang by the arms before the older could protest. “Aww, is my little baby shy?” he cooed, voice dripping with mock affection. “Come here, my baby, let me kiss you too!”
“Hey—!” Yeosang yelped, trying to squirm out of Wooyoung’s hold, but the drinks he’d had were catching up to him, and everyone knew he wasn’t the best at holding his alcohol. His movements were clumsy, his reflexes just a step too slow.
“Stop that right now!” Yeosang hissed, struggling in his chair, but his protests fell on deaf ears. Wooyoung had already hooked his chin on Yeosang’s shoulder, puckering his lips obnoxiously as he chased his friend around in a chaotic half-hug.
San burst out laughing so hard he nearly toppled over, clutching his stomach.
Mingi, eyes sparkling with mischief, didn’t waste a second pulling out his phone. “Wait, wait, don’t move—I need this for evidence!” he yelled, already hitting record as Wooyoung tightened his grip around a very panicked Yeosang.
Yeosang flailed, half-standing in his chair as he barked, “Hongjoong, do something!”
But their leader just sipped his drink calmly, shaking his head. “You made your bed, Yeosang. Now lie in it.”
“Please!” Yeosang’s voice cracked with betrayal, making the table erupt into even louder laughter.
Even you couldn’t stop giggling, leaning into Seonghwa’s side as the chaos spiraled. He, on the other hand, only sighed, rubbing his thumb across your waist while muttering under his breath, “Children. I’m surrounded by children.”
You tilted your head up at Seonghwa, who was still smirking smugly, his curls falling into his forehead as his arm tightened around your waist.
“You started it,” you whispered under your breath, though your smile betrayed you.
Seonghwa only hummed, pressing another light kiss to your hairline as if to prove his point. “What? I can’t show my love for my very loving girlfriend now?”
Your lips twitched into a sheepish smile, warmth curling through you despite the teasing. Without replying right away, you reached for a shot of soju, downing it in one smooth tilt of your head before setting the glass back down with a soft clink.
“Well,” you said finally, smirking, “if you put it that way…”
He shook his head, a low chuckle leaving him, before his hand came up to swipe away the remnants at the corner of your lips. Without hesitation, Seonghwa brought his thumb to his mouth, lips parting as he sucked it clean with a slow hum of satisfaction.
His other hand slid back to your waist, tugging you against his chest until your spine pressed flush to him. His breath ghosted your ear as he leaned down. “You just love getting spoiled, don’t you?”
You shrugged with feigned innocence, chopsticks twirling between your fingers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Before Seonghwa could retort, Wooyoung suddenly shot up from his seat, clearly ready to launch himself at Yeosang again, who was doing his best to push him off with a mix of irritation and panic. Chairs scraped, napkins fell, and the whole corner of the table shook with their struggle.
Seonghwa sighed heavily through his nose, looking like he was two seconds away from strangling Wooyoung himself.
At that exact moment, San slipped easily into the gap, sliding a bowl across the table toward you.
“Here,” he said casually, passing the dish of glazed mini potatoes Seonghwa had requested earlier when he noticed you eyeing them. “Since Wooyoung’s too busy trying to maul Yeosang to remember.”
Your irritation softened instantly, and you gave San a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
San shrugged, grinning easily. “Don’t mention it.”
You popped one of the potatoes into your mouth, savoring the sweet-savory flavor, and chuckled at the sight of Wooyoung now practically draped over Yeosang like an overgrown toddler. “Don’t drink too much, okay?” you reminded San gently, lifting your brows in warning.
“I won’t,” San promised, though the sparkle in his eyes made you suspicious.
Beside you, Seonghwa muttered under his breath, eyes flicking between Wooyoung and the empty spot where the bowl should have been.
“That idiot is lucky San covered for him. Forgetting my request while he’s busy fooling around…” His hand squeezed lightly at your hip as if calming himself, though you could feel the faint irritation simmering in him.
You nudged him lightly with your elbow, amused. “You sound like a dad.”
Seonghwa let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “No, baby—you mean more like a mom.”
Your brows rose, lips tugging into a grin as you shook your head. “No, that’s me.”
“But” he teased, leaning closer with a smirk, “i’snt Hongjoong the dad?”
You laughed at that, glancing across the table where Hongjoong, usually quiet and reserved, was animatedly talking to Yunho, hands flying as he described something from their recent filming. Yunho looked fascinated, hanging on every word, while the rest of the table chuckled at the rare sight of their leader so enthusiastic.
“Is he now?” you said, eyes sparkling as you pointed toward him. “He looks like he’s giving a TED Talk.”
Seonghwa sighed dramatically, though his lips twitched with fondness. “Well… yeah, see? You’re the mom, I’m the dad, baby. Hongjoong’s the cool uncle who thinks he’s in charge.”
That had you laughing all over again, your shoulder bumping his as you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. He turned his head slightly, chasing the affection with a shy smile that warmed you all the way through.
Without missing a beat, he reached for your shared shot glass, refilling it with steady hands before sliding it back in front of you.
“Cheers,” he murmured, clinking his glass lightly against the table before downing it smoothly.
This time, it was your turn to click your tongue, the sound sharp but teasing as you leaned in, rubbing the remnants of the alcohol off his lips with the pad of your thumb. Seonghwa’s chuckle was low and warm, his eyes half-lidded as he caught your gaze.
“Thank you,” he murmured, almost smug with how easily you pampered him.
You tilted your head, lips twitching into a smile as you mumbled softly, “No worries, Hwa.”
Settling back against him, you let your spine sink into the solid line of his chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing immediately calming.
His arm slid naturally around your waist, hand spreading over your stomach like it belonged there. From where you sat, the group’s laughter and chatter filled the room, weaving into the warmth of the moment.
Just as you glanced back toward the table, you caught Wooyoung in the act—leaning dramatically over Yeosang with a mischievous grin plastered on his face. Before Yeosang could dodge, Wooyoung smacked a loud, exaggerated kiss against his cheek.
“Caught you!” Wooyoung cackled, throwing both arms in the air like he had just scored a winning goal.
Yeosang groaned, shoving at him immediately, his ears flushed bright red. “Get off me! Seriously, Wooyoung—”
You couldn’t help but grin at the chaos, whispering under your breath, “They never change.”
Seonghwa gave a small, resigned sigh, his chin resting lightly on your shoulder as his thumb rubbed circles against your waist. “I don’t know how Yeosang puts up with him,” he said, tone exasperated but affectionate.
“Same way I put up with you,” you teased, tilting your head just enough to catch the smirk tugging at his lips.
He huffed out a laugh, giving your side a playful squeeze. “Except you don’t put up with me, baby. You love me.”
Your laugh was soft but genuine, and you leaned your head back against his shoulder, the warmth in your chest blooming.
Across the table, Wooyoung was still trying his best to cling onto Yeosang, who looked one second away from actually committing violence. With an exasperated groan, Yeosang planted his palm right on Wooyoung’s face, pushing him back with all the grace of someone who’d done it a thousand times before.
“Get off me!” Yeosang hissed, struggling to shove him away as Wooyoung leaned forward dramatically, lips puckered, making exaggerated kissy noises.
“Come on, Yeosangie, just one more for the crowd—”
“Who says I’m putting up with him?” Yeosang interrupted, finally managing to push Wooyoung so far back he almost toppled into San’s lap. Straightening his shirt and flicking his hair out of his face, Yeosang gave you and Seonghwa a deadpan look. “I’m tolerating him at best.”
Wooyoung froze, clutching his chest as if he’d been stabbed, his expression pure betrayal. “Now that’s just low, man,” he gasped, dramatically scooting his chair away. “After everything we’ve been through? The love? The loyalty?”
You snorted, trying to cover your mouth, but Seonghwa only chuckled against your ear, his voice smooth and amused. “You see what I mean?” he murmured, his hand lazily tracing circles on your thigh. “This is why we can’t take them anywhere.”
You tilted your head, hiding your grin against his shoulder. “Says the one who nearly started a fight with Wooyoung earlier.”
Seonghwa scoffed, leaning back slightly as his arm stayed firm around your waist. “That wasn’t a fight,” he huffed, tone defensive but calm. “That was me turning away.”
From across the table, Wooyoung immediately perked up, his grin wide and devilish. “Turning away from what? I was literally just combing your hair during the shoot!”
Seonghwa slowly turned his head, the kind of look that could make a room go quiet if it weren’t already filled with laughter. “With your bare hands, Wooyoung. Hands that were covered in the hairspray they used on Mingi’s hair, you absolute menace.”
That made Mingi choke mid-bite, laughter bursting out of him as he tried to swallow. “Hey—hey, don’t drag me into this—” he managed to get out before starting to cough violently, his face scrunching up as he reached for something to drink.
“Dude—dude, breathe!” Yunho panicked beside him, immediately grabbing the first thing in reach—a bottle of soju—and shoving it toward Mingi’s face.
Mingi’s eyes widened in betrayal. “That’s soju, not water!” he wheezed, glaring as he swatted Yunho’s arm away.
“Oh—oh, right,” Yunho fumbled, setting down the green-tinted bottle and grabbing the plastic one beside it instead. “Here, this one’s water, I swear!”
Mingi didn’t even think twice. He grabbed it and downed half the bottle in one go, the table erupting into laughter as Jongho muttered, “You two are hopeless,” while San clapped like it was live entertainment.
Across the mess, Seonghwa could only sigh, rubbing his temple with his free hand before glancing back down at you—his expression soft despite the noise around him. “See what I mean?” he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips.
You met his gaze, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “You say that like you don’t love them,” you teased.
Seonghwa scrunched up his nose immediately, a small sound of protest slipping past his lips—somewhere between disapproval and reluctant amusement. His brows knitted together in mock seriousness as he muttered, “Barely.”
That single word had you laughing, your hand instinctively finding his thigh under the table, giving it a light squeeze. “You’re such a liar,” you said through your grin, your voice lilting with affection.
He turned to you, trying to keep a straight face but failing miserably. “No, really,” he insisted, lips twitching. “They stress me out. My blood pressure spikes every time Wooyoung opens his mouth.”
“Hey!” Wooyoung’s voice immediately shot from across the table, though he didn’t even know what he was being accused of this time.
You could only shake your head with a laugh, your shoulders still trembling from trying to hold it in. Seonghwa leaned forward, his hand sliding over to pass you the small, shared shot glass. You blinked, looking down at it, then up at him with a raised brow.
“What’s this?” you asked, tilting your head in confusion. “Not gonna drink anymore, Hwa?”
He shook his head slowly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe just a bit more,” he said, tone light but certain, “but not too much.”
You furrowed your brows, curious. “And why not?”
His answer came easily, no hesitation in his voice. “Because,” he murmured, leaning in close enough for only you to hear, “who’s gonna take care of you if you get wasted, huh?”
Your lips parted, ready to protest, but before you could even form a word, Seonghwa had already picked up his chopsticks and slipped a freshly grilled piece of meat into your mouth. You let out a muffled sound of protest, glaring up at him with puffed cheeks as he tried—and failed—to hide his grin.
“Hey!” you mumbled around the bite, barely swallowing before continuing, “You can’t just shut me up like that.”
He chuckled softly, his eyes glinting in amusement. “Mhmm,” he hummed, tapping the end of the chopsticks against your plate, “you know I’m right.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, about to argue again—but before you could, another piece of meat was placed against your lips. You grumbled out something incoherent, earning nothing but that same infuriatingly calm smile from him.
“Not,” you muttered once you finally managed to chew and swallow, shooting him a mock glare.
“Not what?” he asked innocently, resting his chin on his hand like he wasn’t absolutely enjoying this.
“Not fair,” you huffed.
Seonghwa only smiled wider. “Maybe not,” he said, his tone teasing but laced with warmth, “but who else is gonna catch you when you trip on your heels later? Hmm?”
You blinked, taken aback, then instinctively glanced down under the table—at the pair of sleek heels you were wearing. The very same ones Seonghwa had bought you months ago after you’d admired them through a store window.
Your cheeks puffed slightly as you mumbled, “But still—”
“Or,” he interrupted smoothly, tilting his head, his voice dropping just a little lower, “who’s gonna carry you all the way up to our room when you’re too giggly to even get in the elevator?”
You shot him a flat look, but the corners of your lips were already twitching. “You make it sound like I’m a handful.”
He raised a brow, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Because you are, baby.”
You turned away with a huff, crossing your arms as if to hide the smile threatening to break free.
Seonghwa just leaned in, chuckling under his breath, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Exactly.”
You rolled your eyes at Seonghwa’s smug tone, turning away from him with a smile you couldn’t hide. You immediately caught San waving his chopsticks excitedly, calling your name as he launched into a rant about a new anime series you both had been obsessing over lately. The conversation easily swept you up, your laughter mixing with the easy hum of music and clinking glasses.
“I’m telling you,” San slurred, dramatically pointing his chopsticks for emphasis. “He had development, he just found love! You can’t die right after that—it’s like, anime karma or something.”
Mingi blinked at him, frowning deeply as if it required his full brain power to process the words. “No, no… that’s exactly why he had to die,” he argued with the confidence of someone whose glass had been refilled one too many times. “That’s how they make you feel things, San. It’s tragic—poetic even.”
“Poetic my ass!” San barked, nearly hitting the table as you burst out laughing, clapping your hands.
Reaching over the chaos of bottles, you tried to grab the bowl of ice in the center, only for your seat to wobble slightly under you. Before you could even react, a steady arm wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you upright.
Your heart skipped when you found yourself face-to-face with Seonghwa, his grip firm but gentle, his gaze warm despite the dim lighting. You blinked up at him, grin forming almost instantly.
“Thank you, baby,” you said, voice soft but teasing.
He gave you a small, lopsided smile, his thumb brushing your side before he let go. “No problem, baby,” he murmured, leaning back in his seat but keeping one arm loosely draped behind your chair.
You finally reached for the ice again, plopping a cube into your glass of water. The faint crackle of melting ice filled the quiet lull between laughter. Across the table, Yunho—chin propped lazily on his palm—turned toward San, who was still mumbling about unfair writing.
“I didn’t know you were into stuff like that,” Yunho said casually, his words slow and slightly slurred.
San blinked, turning his whole body toward him, expression a mix of confusion and suspicion. “Like what stuff?”
Yunho shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he poured himself another shot. The clear liquid caught the light before he downed it in one go. He set the glass down with a clink, tilted his head, and met San’s eyes with a teasing grin.
“2D porn,” Yunho said smoothly.
For a moment, the table went silent—until Mingi nearly spit out his drink.
San’s face went crimson—not just from the alcohol burning through his system but from the sheer audacity of Yunho’s words. You stifled a giggle, leaning back in your chair as Seonghwa’s quiet laugh rumbled beside you, his grin spreading wide at Yunho’s boldness.
“It’s not like that!” San sputtered, eyes wide, waving his chopsticks around like he was warding off evil. “Stop putting words in my mouth.”
Yunho only shrugged lazily, pouring himself another shot of soju with perfect calm. “Hey, man,” he said, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. “We all have our kinks and tastes. Maybe that’s why you don’t get laid.”
The table exploded. Wooyoung practically fell over in laughter, slapping the table so hard the bottles rattled. Hongjoong shook his head, the corners of his lips twitching as he tried—and failed—to hide his amusement. Even Mingi was laughing beside him, his cheeks flushed as he choked out, “He’s got a point though.”
Meanwhile, Jongho—ever the youngest and the only one still relatively sober—stuffed a lone piece of lettuce into his mouth and muttered under his breath, “To think that you’re all older than me is insane.”
San, red-faced and fuming, leaned closer to the table, eyes narrowed at Yunho. “For your information,” he said with the slow, deliberate tone of someone about to embarrass himself, “I get laid.”
That, of course, set Wooyoung off again. “Let’s be fucking for real,” he cackled, clutching his stomach, “the only one actually getting laid every day is Seonghwa.”
The laughter roared again, but this time all eyes turned toward you and Seonghwa.
You nearly choked on your drink, your face heating instantly as Seonghwa’s smirk deepened, unbothered as ever. He raised a brow, voice smooth and teasing as he replied, “What about it?”
You elbowed him lightly, hiding your fluster behind a laugh. He only tilted his head, smug, clearly enjoying the chaos—and your reaction—far too much.
Across the table, Yunho crossed his arms, shaking his head with a grin. “At least you get laid,” he said, nodding toward Seonghwa, “unlike San, who has to rely on cartoons.”
San groaned into his palms, his ears bright red. “For the hundredth time,” he mumbled, dragging his words through his fingers, “I do get laid—and fuck off about the show, okay? It was just a filler episode.”
Yunho, clearly not done with his teasing, leaned forward with a grin that could only be described as evil. His elbows rested lazily on the table, the dim light catching the mischief in his eyes.
“Bet it was all soft and vanilla,” he said, the words dripping with mock sympathy and provocation.
The table groaned collectively, half in disbelief and half in laughter.
Mingi, sitting beside him, raised an eyebrow as he turned his head toward the older man. “Is that supposed to be an insult?” he asked, his voice rough from laughing too much, but there was a hint of challenge beneath it.
Yunho just shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. He nudged Mingi with his elbow playfully. “It is. I mean—come on, San’s a little softie.”
That earned him a chorus of snickers. San let out a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. “Say what you want,” he muttered, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. “There were barely any proper sex scenes in whatever the fuck I was talking about, anyway. And what’s so bad about vanilla sex?”
That question made a few heads turn. Even Wooyoung paused mid-laugh, his chopsticks dangling over the table.
Yeosang, who had been unusually quiet the whole conversation—calmly nursing his drink and observing the chaos with that small, knowing smile—finally moved. He shifted his chair slightly, leaning forward just enough to peek around Mingi to look at Yunho. His voice came out soft, smooth, but laced with curiosity.
“Yeah,” Yeosang said, tilting his head slightly. “What’s so bad about it?”
The words hung in the air for a beat, surprising everyone.
Yunho blinked, taken aback for just a moment before regaining his composure. “Nothing bad about it,” he said, swirling the clear liquid in his shot glass. “It just seems… boring.”
Hongjoong, who had been listening quietly while picking at the leftover meat on the grill, suddenly laughed—a sharp, amused sound that cut through the air. “He’s got a point,” he said, setting his chopsticks down. “There’s a difference between boring and predictable.”
“Exactly!” Yunho exclaimed, pointing at him dramatically. “Predictable! Like missionary with the lights off and a ‘goodnight’ after.”
That sent Wooyoung into another fit of laughter, nearly falling off his seat, while San groaned audibly, dragging his hands down his face.
“Oh my god, can we not analyze my fictional characters’ sex lives right now?” he whined, his voice muffled by his palms.
“Too late,” Mingi wheezed, wiping his eyes as he leaned back, his broad shoulders shaking with laughter.
Across the table, Seonghwa’s soft chuckle reached your ears. You turned to look at him, his expression calm but his eyes dancing with amusement. His hand found its way to your thigh under the table, a small gesture amidst the noise and teasing.
He leaned in slightly, whispering just for you, “You realize this is going to turn into a full debate about sex preferences in about five minutes, right?”
You grinned, whispering back, “You say that like it hasn’t already.”
Before Seonghwa could reply, Hongjoong’s voice cut through the laughter. “You,” he said suddenly, pointing a finger straight at Seonghwa, his words slurred just enough to show the alcohol’s grip.
Seonghwa blinked, caught off guard, his free hand instinctively raising as he pointed at himself. “Me?”
“Yeah, you,” Hongjoong said, his grin widening as a few of the others turned their attention his way. “Speaking of vanilla sex—”
Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, that mischievous spark in his eyes. “You look like the type to enjoy vanilla. Only vanilla.”
The table burst into laughter once again. Wooyoung practically wheezed, clutching his stomach, while Yunho smacked the table with his palm, shouting, “No way!” Mingi laughed so hard his shoulders shook, and even Yeosang, ever the composed one, hid a smirk behind his glass.
Meanwhile, Seonghwa just sat there—brow raised, expression unreadable, lips slightly parted in a stunned, neutral line.
You, on the other hand, felt heat rush to your face so fast it almost burned. And it wasn’t just the alcohol.
Before anyone could recover, Wooyoung’s unfiltered mouth struck again. “Oh my god, (Y/N)—does your silence mean yes?”
Every head turned to you.
You stared down at the table, pretending your water glass was suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said casually, lifting the glass to your lips.
Wooyoung’s grin only widened, sharp and knowing. “Oh, you definitely know.”
You could feel Seonghwa’s eyes on you now—his furrowed brows, the subtle tension in the hand that had been resting on your thigh. “What?” he asked, voice low, equal parts confusion and curiosity.
You refused to meet his gaze. Instead, you reached for your shot glass and downed another in one go, the burn sharp against your throat.
San let out a dramatic laugh, leaning back in his chair. “Wow. And here I thought I was the lame one for watching an anime with barely any sex scenes in it.”
That was enough to make Yunho lose whatever composure he had left. He slammed his palm on the table, standing up suddenly, his face flushed and eyes wide. “I knew it!” he shouted, pointing accusingly at San. “It was anime porn!”
San, equally unsteady, pushed himself up too—nearly losing his balance if not for Jongho’s firm hand smacking his side to steady him. “And I told you it’s not! It was just one scene, man!”
The two of them started bickering like kids, voices overlapping, hands gesturing wildly, while everyone else watched in amusement.
Yeosang let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before gesturing lazily toward Mingi. “Pass me the bottle before I lose more brain cells.”
Mingi didn’t even hesitate, sliding the half-empty soju across the table with a grin. “You’re gonna need it.”
Across the chaos, Wooyoung leaned forward, his grin returning as his gaze locked onto you. “You know,” he said slyly, voice cutting through the shouting, “if you’re looking for something a little less Seonghwa and a little more… intense, I suggest you look up an online sex therapist or something.”
You choked—violently—on the water you’d just sipped to calm the burn of the alcohol.
Seonghwa immediately set his glass down and turned to you, rubbing slow circles on your back as you coughed into your hand. His glare toward Wooyoung could’ve killed a man.
“Shut the fuck up, Wooyoung,” Seonghwa hissed, voice low and dangerous.
That only made Wooyoung laugh harder, hiding behind Yeosang’s shoulder as the older member snorted into his drink.
You finally caught your breath, wiping the corner of your mouth as you shot Seonghwa a small, grateful smile. He sighed quietly, thumb brushing your spine in a slow, protective motion—his jaw tight, his eyes still fixed on Wooyoung like he was debating whether to launch a chopstick at him or not.
But Wooyoung, being Wooyoung, just had to push one last button.
He shrugged, utterly unbothered, reaching over the grill with his chopsticks to grab a fresh piece of sizzling meat. “Hey, don’t blame me,” he said around a mouthful, still chewing as he gestured lazily toward you and Seonghwa with his chopsticks. “If (Y/N) starts getting tired of all your vanilla and boring sex—”
The table collectively groaned.
Mingi slapped a palm to his forehead, Hongjoong nearly choked on his drink, and even Yeosang let out a low, “Oh my god,” under his breath.
But Wooyoung didn’t stop there. He chewed once more, swallowed, then pointed across the table where San and Yunho were still bickering like children. “I’m telling you, that’d be even lamer than San’s porn cartoons.”
That earned him a loud, offended, “They’re not porn cartoons!” from San, who spun around, glaring daggers.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night,” Wooyoung said smugly, flicking a piece of lettuce at him.
San’s jaw dropped. “You wanna start something?”
“Oh, I’d love to finish it,” Wooyoung shot back, grinning triumphantly as the tension around the table shifted—half amused, half please don’t let this end in another food fight.
But while everyone was distracted by the chaos, you felt it—the slow, deliberate tightening of Seonghwa’s hand on your thigh.
You glanced up at him, only to find his gaze already on you. His expression was unreadable—calm, collected—but his eyes? They were dark. Controlled. Too controlled.
He didn’t need to say a word for you to know what that look meant.
You swallowed, the sound loud in your own ears, and your fingers instinctively brushed his forearm, a quiet, grounding touch.
“…Hwa?” you murmured softly, your voice barely audible over the noise of San and Wooyoung’s argument.
He tilted his head, eyes flicking between you and Wooyoung, then back to you again. His thumb stroked the inside of your thigh once—slow—before he leaned in, his lips grazing your ear.
“You’re laughing at him,” he whispered, voice low enough to make you shiver.
“I’m—” you blinked, caught off guard, your pulse quickening. “I’m not—”
His breath brushed your skin, calm but heavy with something that made your chest tighten. “Mm. You are,” he murmured. “He’s not that funny.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Hongjoong clapped his hands loudly. “Alright, before Wooyoung dies by Seonghwa’s chopsticks, maybe we move on from everyone’s sex life?”
The table erupted in half-drunken agreement, everyone laughing or groaning—but Seonghwa didn’t laugh. Not yet. His gaze lingered on you a moment longer, steady and unblinking, before he finally eased his grip on your thigh and sat back, expression returning to something neutral.
You let out a small, shaky breath, turning back toward your drink to hide your flustered smile. The ice clinked softly against the glass, a poor attempt to drown out the pounding in your chest.
Seonghwa didn’t move at first—still watching you, still unreadable. Slowly, he leaned in. Just enough for you to catch the faintest trace of his cologne—warm, clean, and dangerously close. His breath brushed your ear when he spoke, voice low enough so that the others wouldn’t hear.
“Don’t think you’re off the hook, yeah?”
You froze, your fingers tightening around your glass as the words ghosted against your skin. The grip on your thigh shifted, not harsh, just firm enough to make you aware of how close he really was. Your heartbeat stuttered, a small shiver slipping down your spine before you could help it.
Seonghwa only smirked faintly, the corner of his mouth tugging upward as he leaned back like nothing had happened. But the warmth of his hand stayed on your thigh, while your pulse betrayed every bit of the mess he’d just stirred up inside you.
You gasp out a shaky “H-Hwa,” your voice breaking into stutters and whimpers as Seonghwa’s firm hand shoves the flimsy sleeves of your top down your shoulders.
He yanks the fabric free from the waistband of your skirt, his breath hot against your skin as he growls, “Arms up, baby.”
You comply instantly, lifting your arms high, heart pounding in your chest while he whips the top over your head in one swift motion. Your hair tumbles back down in a soft, wavy halo framing your flushed face, and he tosses the shirt aside carelessly, joining the pile of your discarded blazer and heels that you kicked off the second you stumbled into your shared hotel room, the door barely clicking shut behind you.
Seonghwa’s mouth crashes onto your neck, his lips parting for wet, open-mouthed kisses that send sparks racing down your spine.
One hand props him up above you on the bed, muscles flexing under his shirt, while the other snakes behind your back, fingers deftly locating the clasp of your lace bra. He barely pauses to take in the delicate patterns hugging your curves—his mind too consumed with the need to claim every inch of you.
With a quick snap, the bra loosens, and he peels the fabric away, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the room. His head dips lower, mouth latching onto one nipple, tongue flicking the hardened bud relentlessly.
You arch your back off the mattress, a sharp cry escaping your lips as pleasure shoots straight to your core. “Oh, fuck, Hwa—”
He hums against your skin, the vibration making you squirm, before sucking harder and leaving a dark, blooming mark on the soft flesh. “So fucking good for me,” he murmurs, voice rough and low, his free hand sliding from your back to your other breast.
His fingers toy with the pebbled nipple, pinching lightly, rolling it between thumb and forefinger, tugging just enough to make you gasp. His mouth trails lower now, pressing hot kisses and nips along the undersides of your breasts, marking the tender skin with reddish-purple hickeys that will linger for days.
You whimper, moaning his name again, “Seonghwa”—as he sucks hard just above your stomach, the pull intense enough to make your hips buck involuntarily.
“The hickeys,” you mumble breathlessly, your voice laced with a mix of whine and protest.
He pauses, lifting his head to meet your gaze from his position between your legs, tilting his head with a raised brow. “What about them?” he asks, his tone teasing, eyes dark with hunger.
You pout, your hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders, fingers digging in as you complain, “Most of the clothes I brought are crop tops.”
Seonghwa hums thoughtfully, then leans down to deliver a small, sharp bite right on your stomach, teeth grazing the skin without breaking it.
You arch your back again, hands flying to his hair, threading through the soft strands as you whimper, “Hwa…”
He pulls back just enough to flash a small, wicked grin, his breath fanning over your heated skin. “I’ll treat you to a shopping spree tomorrow, then. We’ll get you new clothes—and I know you’ve been eyeing that dress at Prada.” He shrugs, the excuse flimsy and transparent, just a ploy to justify leaving more marks on your body, claiming you in ways that make your pulse race.
His hands move to the hem of your skirt, bunching the fabric up your thighs as he pushes it higher, exposing the lace panties beneath. The dim hotel bedroom lights catch the glistening wetness soaking through the thin material, and his smirk widens. “Already wet from me just touching you? You really are something else, baby.”
He leans in closer, his nose brushing against the damp fabric as he inhales your scent deeply, a low groan rumbling from his chest.
Without warning, his tongue drags a long stripe right over the lace, pressing firm enough to make the barrier almost negligible. The taste of you floods his mouth—salty-sweet arousal that has him groaning louder, the sound vibrating against your clothed pussy.
Your thighs tremble, instinctively trying to clamp around his head, but he hooks his hands under your knees, spreading you wider with ease.
“Fuck, you taste like heaven,” he rasps, his voice muffled as he nuzzles deeper, lips sealing over the wet spot to suck gently through the fabric. The sensation is maddening—teasing friction that builds the ache between your legs without mercy.
You moan, hips rolling up toward his face, fingers tightening in his hair to urge him on. “Seonghwa, please… more,” you beg, your voice a desperate whine that only spurs him further.
He adds a finger, sliding it easily into your tight heat, curling it just right to hit that spot that makes stars burst behind your eyelids.
You buck against his mouth, lost in the rhythm, your moans filling the room as he works you higher, relentless and thorough.
Seonghwa doesn't let up, his tongue lapping firmly at your clit while he slides a second finger inside you, stretching your walls with a deliberate push. The added pressure makes you whimper loudly, your fingers tangling in his dark hair and tugging hard enough to elicit a deep groan from him. The vibration of his voice rumbles straight through your core, sending electric jolts of pleasure racing up your spine and making your thighs quiver around his head.
His fingers crook inside you, expertly finding that sensitive spot again and again, rubbing it with precise strokes that have your back arching off the bed.
“Seonghwa, fuck—” you moan, the words spilling out in a breathless gasp as waves of heat build relentlessly in your belly.
He grins against your slick folds, the curve of his lips pressing into your sensitive skin, pride swelling in his chest because he knows your body better than you do yourself—every twitch, every gasp, every spot that unravels you completely.
His fingers keep pumping, hitting that spot over and over, the wet sounds of his movements mixing with your escalating whimpers. Your hips roll desperately against his hand and mouth, chasing the edge.
He grins against your slick folds, the curve of his lips pressing into your sensitive skin, pride swelling in his chest because he knows your body better than you do yourself—every twitch, every gasp, every spot that unravels you completely.
His fingers keep pumping, hitting that spot over and over, the wet sounds of his movements mixing with your escalating whimpers. Your hips roll desperately against his hand and mouth, chasing the edge.
“Fuck, I’m close,” you cry out, your voice breaking as the tension coils tighter, your entire body tensing in anticipation.
But Seonghwa pulls his fingers out abruptly, the sudden emptiness making you gasp in shock. He lifts his head just enough to meet your eyes from his position at the foot of the bed, his gaze dark and commanding.
You look down at him in surprise, your face flushed deep red, chest heaving as you whine, “Why’d you st—”
The question cuts off into a sharp cry as his long tongue replaces his fingers, thrusting deep into your hole with a teasing swirl. He prods and laps at your entrance, the flat of his tongue dragging along your walls before flicking out to circle your clit. Your hands fly back to his hair, gripping tight as the intense sensation makes your eyes roll back in your head.
Your hips buck wildly against his face, but Seonghwa’s strong hands clamp down on them, pushing your ass back against the mattress to hold you in place.
The firm grip on your hips only heightens the pleasure, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as you whimper, “I’m close, Hwa.”
He pulls away once more, just as you're teetering on the brink, leaving you panting and aching. You furrow your brows at the loss, a frustrated whine escaping your lips as your body throbs with unfulfilled need.
Seonghwa rises slowly from the foot of the bed, towering over you with a predatory glint in his eyes. His lips and chin glisten with your juices, shiny and slick under the dim bedroom light, showing how thoroughly he’s been devouring you.
“Still too vanilla for you, baby?” he asks, his voice low and teasing, laced with that confident edge that always makes your pulse race.
You whine in response, squirming on the sheets. “Hwa, I never agreed with what they said,” you protest, your voice small and needy, still dazed from the denial.
He clicks his tongue in mock disapproval, his hands moving to unbuckle his belt with slowness, the metal clinking softly in the quiet room. “Oh, I know,” he murmurs, pulling the leather free and letting it drop to the floor. “But your eyes said otherwise.”
You blink up at him, hazy and unfocused from the lack of release, your mind struggling to catch up.
“What—” you start, but the word falters as Seonghwa hooks his thumbs into his pants, shoving them down his hips. The fabric pools around his ankles, and he steps out of them smoothly, his hard cock springing free, thick and veined, already leaking at the tip.
He grabs the hem of his sweater next, yanking it over his head in one fluid motion, revealing the lean muscles of his torso, his skin flushed with arousal.
“You avoided eye contact with me when we were being teased,” he continues, his tone dropping to a husky growl as he stalks closer, his eyes locked on yours. “So tell me, baby, am I still too vanilla for you?”
Before you can even form a response, Seonghwa surges forward, sliding between your spread legs. His hands grip your waist firmly, fingers splaying across your skin as he flips you onto your stomach with effortless strength.
You let out a slight squeal at the sudden manhandling, the rough flip sending a thrill through you, your cheek pressing into the soft sheets as your ass lifts instinctively.
Seonghwa’s large hands palm your ass cheeks firmly, squeezing the soft flesh as he shoves your skirt up roughly, bunching it around your lower back. The cool air hits your exposed skin, making your glistening pussy throb with anticipation, already slick and aching for him. His fingers hook into the band of your panties, tugging them down your thighs in one swift motion until they pool at your knees, trapping your legs slightly and heightening the vulnerability.
He hums appreciatively, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through your body, his gaze locked on the way your folds glisten under the dim bedroom light.
Seonghwa climbs onto the bed behind you, his knees sinking into the mattress as he pulls your hips closer, aligning your ass perfectly with his crotch.
He leans down, his chest pressing against your back, hot breath brushing against the shell of your ear as he murmurs, “I know you’re getting sick of me going all soft on you, baby.” His voice is a deep growl, laced with that teasing edge that always makes your core clench.
You whimper, “P-please, Hwa,” the words tumbling out in a desperate plea, your body trembling under his weight. He smirks against your skin, knowing full well how utterly powerless you are beneath him, how every fiber of your being craves his control.
Even pissed off as he is at his group members for teasingly accusing the both of you of always having boring vanilla sex, your boyfriend puts your needs and comfort before himself.
He reaches forward, grabbing one of the pillows above your head, and carefully slides it under your hips, adjusting your position so your middle is supported, easing any strain. The gesture sends a warm flutter through your chest amidst the building heat.
He straightens up slightly, his hands returning to palm your ass, kneading the flesh possessively. “You know I wouldn’t even be mad if you’d just complain to me, baby,” he says, his tone a mix of frustration and affection.
Before you can respond, his hand comes down with a sharp smack against your right cheek, the sting blooming into heat that radiates through you. You moan loudly, instinctively pushing your ass higher into the air toward him, your face burying deeper into the pillows as the sensation makes your pussy drip even more.
“Hwa…” you breathe out, voice muffled and needy.
Seonghwa sighs, but there's no real exasperation in it—only hunger. He delivers another stinging slap to your other cheek, watching the skin redden under his palm. “What did I say about keeping secrets between the both of us, huh, baby?”
His fingers tease along your slit now, dragging through your wetness with deliberate slowness, making you whimper and buck your hips back for more friction.
The pleasure is electric, sparks shooting up your spine as he spreads you open with his other hand, exposing every inch of your aching core to his view. He clearly enjoys the way you writhe under him, your body betraying just how desperate you are.
His fingers plunge inside you without warning, two thick digits curling deep as he starts pumping them in and out. “Been together for the longest time, and you could’ve at least told me,” he chides, his thumb brushing your entrance with each thrust. Your walls flutter around him, the stretch delicious and familiar after four years of this intimacy.
He hits that same spot inside you relentlessly, the one that makes stars burst behind your eyelids, pressure building fast and fierce. You whine out, “I’m always satisfied, ah—!” but the words dissolve into a gasp as his fingers abuse that sensitive bundle of nerves, driving you higher.
Seonghwa hums in acknowledgment, his mind briefly drifting to your anniversary just a few months ago—the way you panted beneath him as he fucked you carefully, lovingly, drawing out every moan until you shattered. The memory fuels his pace now, fingers picking up speed as he feels you clenching tighter around his digits, your arousal coating his hand.
He scoffs softly, glancing down at your arched back, face hidden in the pillows, body trembling. “I know. I’ve been fucking you almost every day for the past four years.” His free hand slides under you, fingers finding your swollen clit and rubbing tight circles that make your thighs quake.
“Was that all you needed? For me to finally give you what you wanted—my members telling you I wasn’t satisfying you enough?” His voice drips with mock jealousy, but the way his fingers curl harder inside you betrays his arousal.
You whine loudly, the coil in your stomach snapping as waves of pleasure crash over you. “Cumming—!” The orgasm rips through you, your back arching sharply, pussy spasming around his fingers as you soak the sheets below.
Seonghwa pulls his fingers out abruptly, leaving you empty and grumbling at the loss, your body still twitching from the aftershocks. He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Patience, baby.”
You turn your head just a little, enough to meet his intense gaze, your eyes pleading. “Hwa, please…”
He tilts his head, holding your stare as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, licking them clean slowly, savoring every drop. “So fucking sweet. Just for me.”
He shifts his position behind you, freeing his throbbing cock from his boxers—it springs out heavy and leaking, the tip already smeared with pre-cum. You push your ass back against him impatiently, feeling the heat of his length press against your skin.
Seonghwa smirks, teasingly rubbing his leaking tip along your folds, coating himself in your juices as lube. You moan again, the friction maddening but not enough. “Stop teasing, please…”
He doesn’t listen, continuing to slide his cock through your slickness, groaning at the sight of your aching pussy clenching around nothing, desperate for him.
Your nails claw at the sheets, frustration building as you whine, “Hwa, please…”
He raises a brow, voice commanding. “Please what?” You protest with another whine, and he clicks his tongue again, slapping his cock against your pussy lips—once, twice—the wet smacks echoing in the room. It makes you arch your back higher, burying your face in the sheets, eyes burning with unsated need.
You look to the side just enough to make eye contact with him, your voice breaking. “Please, Hwa… fuck me.”
Seonghwa smirks wordlessly, his dark eyes gleaming with raw hunger as he grips the base of his cock, lining up the swollen head with your dripping entrance.
Without another word, he plunges into you in one brutal thrust, stretching your walls around his thick length until you let out a choked sob, the sudden fullness overwhelming every nerve. His hands clamp down on your hips, fingers digging into the soft skin with bruising force as he bottoms out completely, his balls slapping against your clit.
You breathe heavily under him, chest heaving as the air rushes out of your lungs in ragged gasps. “S-so full,” you mumble, the words slurring together, your body trembling from the invasion.
He pauses for the slightest moment, letting you adjust to his size, though it's barely enough time to catch your breath. Every prominent vein along his shaft pulses against your inner walls, dragging delicious friction with even the tiniest shift.
No matter how many times he's fucked you, his girth always stretches you out like the first time, forcing your pussy to yield to him completely. The tip of his cock nudges right up against the end of you, almost kissing your cervix, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure-pain that makes your toes curl into the sheets.
Seonghwa leans down just a bit, his broad chest pressing against your back, the heat of his body enveloping you like a cage. “Still with me?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, laced with concern beneath the dominance.
You nod weakly, managing a shaky “Y-yes,” your fingers twisting in the pillow for support. He hums in satisfaction, a deep vibration that rumbles through his chest into yours, before he starts moving—no gentle warmup, no easing in.
He pulls back slowly at first, leaving just the tip buried inside your fluttering heat, then slams forward fully, burying himself to the hilt again. The force makes you moan loudly, your body jolting forward on the bed.
“Fuck, Hwa—too much,” you gasp, even as your hips instinctively push back against him, craving more despite the overwhelming stretch.
He tilts his hips experimentally, angling deeper with each thrust, his rhythm building into a steady, punishing pace. “I haven’t even started yet, baby,” he growls, his breath hot against your shoulder.
His hands grip your hips tighter, one sliding down to make contact with the curve of your ass, kneading the flesh before delivering a sharp slap that echoes through the room alongside the wet, obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin.
He pounds into you relentlessly, each drive of his cock forcing whimpers from your throat as you writhe beneath him, your body caught between surrender and desperate need.
Just as the pleasure coils tighter in your core, Seonghwa suddenly stops, buried deep inside you, his hips flush against your ass. The abrupt halt leaves you whining in frustration, your pussy clenching around him emptily.
You lift your body just the slightest bit, propping yourself up on your elbows, twisting to glance back at him with wide, pleading eyes. “What’s wrong?” you ask, voice breathy and confused, your inner walls fluttering in protest at the stillness.
Before you can say more, Seonghwa leans down fully on you, propping himself up with his strong arms on either side of your head, caging you in completely. He thrusts back in with full force, the brutal snap of his hips driving his cock even deeper, hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back into your head.
Stars explode behind your eyelids, a guttural moan tearing from your lips as your arms give out, collapsing back into the pillows. His face hovers close now, fast breaths hot on the shell of your ear, mingling with your own pants.
“So you like it rough after all, huh?” he taunts, his voice a husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine. “So they were right—my vanilla sex is too soft for you, huh, baby?”
One of his hands snakes under your body, fingers unerringly finding your swollen clit, rubbing firm circles that make you squeal out, “N-no!” The denial is automatic, half-hearted, as sparks of ecstasy shoot through you.
He pinches the sensitive nub sharply, then flicks it with his thumb, drawing a sharp cry from your throat. You lean up against him instinctively, arching your back as the dual sensations—his cock throbbing inside you and his fingers tormenting your clit—push you to the edge.
Seonghwa clicks his tongue disapprovingly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Stop lying to me,” he demands, his pace picking up again, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor, the head of his cock battering your cervix with every plunge.
He dips his head lower, lips brushing the juncture of your neck, then his teeth sink in just a little bit away from your nape—firm enough to mark, but controlled, sending a delicious sting that blooms into heat.
You whine out, “Hwa, that’s gonna be hard to cover up,” your voice muffled against the sheets, a mix of protest and thrill lacing your words.
He only shakes his head, groaning deeply as your pussy clenches tighter around him in response, milking his length. His hand rears back and slaps the flesh of your ass again, the sharp crack making you whine louder, your skin tingling from the repeated impacts.
“I’ll tell my makeup artist, yeah,” he mumbles against your skin, his tone teasing but edged with possession, knowing exactly how that would play out.
Your face flushes even redder, the heat creeping up your neck not just from the relentless pleasure or the warmth of the room, but from the sheer mortifying thought—his makeup artist, whom you've shared laughs and casual chats with during visits, asking questions while dabbing concealer over Seonghwa’s fresh teeth marks on your skin.
It couldn’t get any more embarrassing, the vulnerability twisting into something hotter, more intimate, as your body betrays you with another involuntary squeeze around his cock.
Seonghwa moves his head slightly, latching onto the side of your neck now, sucking hard enough to leave a blooming hickey, his tongue soothing the spot even as he marks you.
You arch into him desperately, the angle letting him hit that particular spot inside you over and over—the one that makes your vision blur and your moans turn incoherent.
“Fuck, Hwa—right there, fuck,” you cry out, your nails scraping against the sheets, body trembling on the precipice as he drives you higher, his grunts mixing with your pleas in the heated air.
Seonghwa’s thrusts only grew rougher with every brutal push and pull, his hips slamming against yours with a relentless rhythm that sent shockwaves through your core.
Tears stung your eyes from the sheer overwhelming pleasure, blurring your vision as you babbled his name over and over again—“Hwa, Hwa, oh god, Hwa”—too lost in the ecstasy to care if anyone else on the floor could hear your desperate cries echoing through the thin walls. The bed creaked beneath you both, the pillows shifting with each forceful drive of his cock deep into your soaking pussy.
Suddenly, Seonghwa stopped, buried to the hilt inside you, his chest heaving as he held still. A frustrated whine escaped your lips, your walls clenching around him in protest, but before you could even form words to beg him to continue, his strong hands gripped your waist.
In one swift motion, he flipped you over onto your back, the world spinning for a brief second as your hips lifted, supported now by a pillow wedged beneath you. You blinked up at him through the tears cascading down your cheeks, your vision hazy with need.
Seonghwa loomed above you, his dark hair tousled and damp with sweat, a harsh laugh bubbling from his lips as he positioned himself between your spread legs. His cock, slick and throbbing, nudged against your entrance once more.
“Why do you keep sto—” you started, voice breaking in frustration, but the words died in your throat as he thrust into you hastily, filling you completely in one deep, punishing stroke.
A loud moan tore from you, your head throwing back against the sheets, neck arching as pleasure exploded through every nerve. Seonghwa leaned closer, his fingers lacing with yours in a tight, possessive grip, pinning your hand above your head.
He gazed down at you with utter love and raw desire swirling in his eyes, then captured your lips in a heated kiss. His tongue plunged into your mouth, tasting of salt and passion, and as he pulled back slightly, a thin string of saliva still connected your lips.
“Fuck, I love you,” he muttered against your mouth, his voice rough and breathless, sending another wave of fresh tears spilling from your eyes.
You looked up at him, your gaze glossy and drowned in pleasure, whispering through gasps, “I—l-love you too, Hwa, so much.”
He didn’t waste a moment, his mouth descending to your throat, sucking and biting fresh hickeys into your sensitive skin—dark, blooming marks that would linger for days as reminders of this night.
His hand grabbed one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder and pushing it toward your chest, folding you open for him. The new angle allowed him to sink even deeper, his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
“So deep,” you gasped, your free hand clutching at his back, nails digging into the muscles there as his thrusts quickened.
The sight of you like this—tears streaming, body writhing beneath him—drove Seonghwa insane, his control fraying at the edges.
He leaned down further, his tongue darting out to lick a long, slow stripe against your tear-streaked cheek, tasting the salt of your overwhelmed emotions.
You moaned out, “Fuck—Hwa, right there,” your voice a broken plea as he pistoned his hips against yours, the wet sounds of skin slapping skin filling the room alongside your shared breaths.
Seonghwa groaned deeply, his pace faltering for a split second as your pussy squeezed him tighter. “Baby, fuck, you’re squeezing me so good,” he rasped, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes locked on your tear-filled ones.
The familiar coil in your stomach began to tighten, heat building unbearably as you pressed your lips against his cheek in a sloppy, desperate kiss.
“Cumming,” you whimpered, teetering on the edge, but Seonghwa hissed through clenched teeth, “Not yet, love—hold on for me.”
A whine of frustration bubbled up from your chest, your eyes glossing over again from the overstimulation, every thrust sending sparks of too-much pleasure through your body.
Seonghwa only fucked you faster and rougher at the sight of you writhing in tears under him, something primal igniting in his core. His hips stuttered, pace erratic as he chased his own release, growling low, “Now, baby—cum with me.”
You let go completely, your pussy gushing around his cock in a flood of release, walls pulsing and milking him as waves of orgasm crashed over you.
A new wave of tears left your eyes, staining your cheeks as the intensity overwhelmed you, your body shaking uncontrollably beneath him.
Seonghwa leaned down, his lips brushing tenderly against your tear-streaked skin, kissing them away one by one while murmuring softly, “I love you, I love you,” his voice a husky whisper laced with devotion.
He collapsed onto you, careful not to crush you fully, slotting his head into the crook of your shoulder. His lips pressed soft, tender kisses there now, a stark contrast to the open-mouthed, teeth-filled bites he’d left earlier.
You panted heavily, your hands instinctively lacing through his damp hair, fingers threading gently as you pressed a kiss to the side of his head.
“I love you, Seonghwa,” you murmured, voice soft and sated. He smiled against your skin, pushing himself up slightly to look at you, then slowly pulled out with a shared groan at the sensation of his cock slipping free, cum dribbling from your swollen pussy onto the sheets.
Seonghwa lay beside you, tugging you against his chest in one fluid motion, his arms wrapping around you securely. “And I love you, (Y/N),” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, smiling against them as you hummed in satisfaction.
The two of you pulled away slowly, breaths still mingling in the warm air between you, your bodies slick with sweat and the remnants of your shared release.
Seonghwa’s dark eyes locked onto yours, a playful glint sparking in their depths as his thumb gently wiped the remaining tears from under your eyes, tracing the damp trails with a tenderness that contrasted the raw intensity from moments before.
A shit-eating grin spread across his face, dimples deepening as he leaned in closer, his voice a low, teasing rumble. “I fucked you that good, huh?”
You laughed softly, the sound bubbling up from your chest like a release of its own, light and breathless as you placed a hand over his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm.
He pulled you into his arms without hesitation, enveloping you in his warmth, his thumb still prodding gently at the lingering dampness on your cheeks.
His lips brushed your forehead in a soft kiss, lingering there as he murmured against your skin, “I should make you cry more often… you look so pretty crying like that.”
Heat flooded your face instantly, a deep blush creeping up your neck as you buried it in his chest with a muffled groan, the vibration of your embarrassment humming against his skin. “Stop saying such absurd things, Park Seonghwa,” you protested, your voice half-hearted and laced with affection, fingers curling lightly into the muscles of his back.
He laughed outright at the use of his full name, the sound rich and genuine, shaking his frame beneath you as he tilted his head to nuzzle your hair.
“Saying that after I made you cum three times is harsh, baby,” he teased, his tone dripping with mock offense, though his arms only tightened around you, holding you closer as if he never wanted to let go.
You reddened further, the flush burning hotter across your cheeks and down to your collarbone, burying yourself deeper into his chest to hide from his amused gaze, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin mixed with the musky aftermath of your lovemaking.
Seonghwa’s laughter softened into chuckles, his hand stroking soothing circles along your spine as he reached for the tangled blankets at the edge of the bed.
He pulled them over the two of you with a gentle tug, cocooning your entwined bodies in their soft weight, the fabric whispering against your bare skin. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice dropping to a sincere whisper, though the grin lingered in his words. “I’m just teasing.”
“I know,” you mumbled, your lips brushing the curve of his collarbone as you finally peeked up at him, love swirling in your eyes. You shifted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, “I love you, Hwa. So stop listening to whatever your members say.”
His eyes softened at that, the playful spark giving way to something deeper, more tender, as a gentle smile curved his lips. He cupped your face in one hand, thumb tracing your cheekbone now with reverence.
“I know,” he replied quietly, his gaze holding yours like a promise. “And I know they’re just trying to get a reaction out of me. Plus, they’re all drunk—probably passed out by now, snoring like idiots.”
You shook your head with a small smile, the tension from earlier melting away completely in the safety of his embrace, your fingers idly tracing patterns on his chest. “Yeah, I know,” you agreed, the words carrying a shared understanding of the mess that was his group life.
Seonghwa leaned down then, pressing his lips against yours in a soft, lingering kiss that spoke volumes without words—slow and unhurried, tasting of salt from your tears and the sweetness of afterglow.
He pulled back just enough to whisper against your mouth, “I love you, okay? So much.” His free hand adjusted the blankets properly, tucking them around your shoulders and hips to ward off the cooling air, ensuring you were both fully covered in their warmth.
“Get some rest,” he added, his voice a gentle command laced with care, as he settled back against the pillows, drawing you flush against his side. “We have an early schedule tomorrow.”
You sighed dramatically, nestling your head under his chin, your leg draping lazily over his thigh as the exhaustion finally began to pull at your limbs.
“That is, if I can walk,” you quipped, a hint of playful exaggeration in your tone, though your body still hummed with the delicious ache he’d left behind.
Seonghwa laughed again, the sound vibrating through his chest and into you, his hand coming up to ruffle your hair affectionately. “Oh, stop exaggerating,” he chided lightly, though his eyes twinkled with pride and fondness as he kissed the top of your head.
“You’ll be fine… or I’ll carry you myself.” The room fell into a comfortable quiet after that, broken only by the soft rhythm of your breathing syncing up, the world outside fading as sleep beckoned, wrapped securely in each other’s arms.
