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hwaightme · 2 months

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THIS IS 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI FOR STAR’S SAKE (nsfw tags under the cut)(masterlist) (taglist)

❤️‍🔥 pairing: husband!seonghwa x gn!afab!reader ❤️‍🔥 genre: smut, fluff, pwp, established long-term relationship ❤️‍🔥 summary: all work and no play makes seonghwa a needy boy; your husband wants you. now. and he will use any means necessary to get you where he wants you. being in the office is not a problem when you are one message away... ❤️‍🔥 wordcount: 8.6k total ❤️‍🔥 warnings/tags: semi-edited, hwa duality, businessperson!reader, mention of offices/presentations/corporate culture, nonidol!hwa, married but permanently in honeymoon phase, two people very in love, petnames, mutual respect, trust and adoration, seonghwa is smitten, reader wears heels, words crazy+drunk used ❤️‍🔥 taglist: at the bottom of the fic ❤️‍🔥 a/n: spiralled into ponderings with @byuntrash101 (ily), and my fingers slipped. oops. any notes, asks, reblogs appreciated <3 much love!

❤️‍🔥 taglist: sexting, praise, petnames (love, darling, my love, pretty, gorgeous...), consent is king, unprotected sex (consider before you deliver), mating press/missionary (vanilla but make it spicy), 69 (blowjob+eating out), creampie, cumeating, slight spit kink, sprinklings of body worship, possessive terms (my/mine), light overstimulation, implied aftercare

“How do I look?” you called out to your husband, who was sitting behind you on your shared bed, feline in the way he was leaning back on his arms, regarding you through half-shut, curious eyes.

Unlike you, he had the day free, but even so decided to go through the motions of a morning routine with you, though finalising it with a considerably less formal outfit. Dressed in a black sweater and matching black trousers, Seonghwa had stated that he was going to go out to get some fresh produce from the market while it was still early, and the rush of crowds did not plague the city just yet. Patiently, he was waiting for you to be ready to head out to work, and he, to comfortably support the home front for today.

“Hm, you look like me having to come to work with you and me having a blast telling waves of potential suitors that you are off limits.” He responded as a matter of factly. Nevertheless, you caught a cheeky grin in the mirror as he scanned you up and down with the intensity of a burning sun.

“Oh … Hwa, what if I want the attention? And what are you going to do about the stakeholders I’ll be speaking to, hm?” You asked him coyly, finally managing to get your second earring on and tapping it with your manicured finger for good measure.

“Something tells me that I’ll have to step in and act like security.”

You chuckled, taken aback, pleasantly lightheaded because of Seonghwa’s early morning flirtations. With one final once over, he smoothed the bed sheets on either side of him and rose up to step right behind you, placing both hands under your suit jacket and on your waist, leaning closer and closer until he could place a soft kiss on the side of your neck which, thanks to your hairstyle, was exposed to the attention.

The sleek, deep navy suit was an elegant number, peaked lapels on the single-breasted jacket perfectly pressed, the wide-legged trousers perfectly guiding towards the heels - pumps in a nude beige, and the white asymmetrical short-sleeved shirt underneath all combining to create perfect harmony. You had chosen elegance over daring energetic appeal today, picking pearl-based jewellery which, upon inspection, was exactly how you had imagined it would be with the outfit. A delicate balance was struck, and was reminiscent of how your husband was gingerly manoeuvring over and around you, until he appeared to have had enough with stalling.

Seonghwa’s arms lazily slid forwards, wrapping a little tighter around you, while his head moved to nudge you towards himself with his chin, until he could rest his head on your shoulder comfortably. Initially wishing to pry yourself away given how little time you had left if you were to make it to the office at a reasonable time, your hands rushed to his own, but as your husband began to sway side to side, blissfully taking in the image in the mirror, you left them there, admiring the priceless scene, and the way in which his hands fit perfectly over yours, the rings matching, another sign of your union completing the masterpiece in the reflection.

"Come on, Hwa, I’ll be late at this rate."

"What's it got to do with me, ma'am? I finished getting dressed fifteen minutes ago, was sitting here, all good and ready for you-" ignoring the word choice, you persisted:

"Because a certain someone was hogging the shower-"

"I told you, you could join." heat flushed to your cheeks as you caught Seonghwa’s less than innocent expression, making you remember exactly why you were not planning to get into any intimate shared space with this alluring schemer before work. Planting a feather-light kiss on your sensitive skin, he was threatening to make you lose track of time entirely. Attempting to wipe the action from immediate perception, you focused on the sensation of tugging on one of your earrings, anything to ground you and to return you into the headspace of the meetings you had scheduled and been booked into for the day, along with the details and key takeaways for each one.

You had always been a fighter in the professional world, and this was one of the many things that Seonghwa adored about you. Having met at a networking event, that was the side of you he had come to be acquainted with first, and had fallen head over heels for. A sublime intensity that came with the passion you had for your work, a fire that ignited when you planned ahead, led teams and managed international ventures were so beautifully contained within you and formulated the intricate maze of your psyche that Seonghwa could not help but want to drown in it, and spend eternity observing you in action. He himself had stepped away from the strict and rigorous structures of the corporate world, instead preferring to offer independent consultation services, but to see you flourish, and to be there for your journey and to have you unconditionally support his decisions and experiments too was nothing short of a blessing. Perhaps the one side effect, a tiny challenge that came with having you as his life partner, his love and his spouse is mornings like this, when you were in the process of escaping for work, driven and ready for battle, your armour being one of the stylish suits of impeccable quality that you took great pains to keep pristine. And the more you did so, the stronger was his desire to see if he could ruin just one, at least one, perhaps the one you were wearing right now. Despite the fact that he had seen you in such garments more times than either of you could possibly count or remember, it made him more drawn to you and involuntarily seduced than he would ever dare admit. Seonghwa’s grip on your hips inadvertently tightened as gaze flashed upwards, settling on the reflection of your perfectly plump, tinted lips in the mirror.

“Besides… As you know, I was making sure that the adjustments were all fine and the overall outfit would be fine for the quarterly review meeting,” you recalled your last-minute concerns over whether the selection was reasonable for meeting persons from the executive office, even though you were not sure if you even had outfits in your job-related arsenal that would not be appropriate, “You could have helped by the way.”

"I did! I gave the fit the Seonghwa seal of approval, but now... honestly am regretting it because you look illegal..."

He turned his attention back to the delicate skin around your neck, planting a couple more kisses with mischief glowing in his eyes. You giggled as his breath left a ticklish sensation and you nearly knocked your head with his in an attempt to shy away.

"And how do you think I feel, leaving you at home like this?”, you let your gaze settle on your husband, a ghost of a smirk revealing itself on your lips, “I need to brush up on my cat fighting techniques, mister handsome, and maybe learn how to teleport" Put him in a rag and he would still look spectacular. Like this, in a relaxed, casual outfit that ideally matched his dark locks, highlighted the broadness of his shoulders and the jawline models would be jealous of, he was heavenly - something which you never failed to remind him of no matter what he was wearing. It was almost a shame that you had to leave for work instead of admiring this beauty for the entire day and an eternity more. You bit the inside of your cheek, banishing less than safe for work ponderings from your mind.

"Woah, Y/N, fighting for me? That's kind of - I do not think I should say what I am thinking."

"You’re being awfully cheeky this morning!" You lightly slapped the back of his hand and spun around, coming closer until only a mere couple of centimetres separated you. "What else can a kitty do with her claws?"

"I mean... my back has no complaints." He speedily responded, tightening his hold on your waist and attempting to capture your lips with his. But at this point, you had gotten good enough at reading Seonghwa to move away at the last second, resulting in a loud smooch right against your jawbone, followed by a purposefully childish whine, "Oh darling you are being a tease."

"Naugh- ty- Seonghwa, no kisses. I took too long to line my cupid's bow. I'm not about to let you ruin it."

You tried to wiggle away, wondering if your suit was actually creaseproof as the assistant at the boutique had advertised, but he was having none of it, now grabbing your hands and swinging them side to side. With his prior seductive aura having subsided after your decisive, playful rejection, Seonghwa’s glances were in many ways boyish, permission-seeking. The most miniscule hint of a pout made its way to his lips as he peered what had to be directly into your heart and intertwined your fingers together, stopping the motion.

“Y/N…”

“Keep this thought in mind, lovely, will you be able to?” you purred, amused at your husband’s slow blinking, reminiscent of an affectionate cat.

“Of course,” you dodged another attempt by him to nuzzle into your neck with a soft, melodic laugh, and pulled Seonghwa to follow you out of the bedroom, “Ah, careful,” he rushed to block the door frame, chuckling at your eagerness to get to the hustle and bustle of your day, even though just a little while ago you still were retaining that light nervousness, likely overthinking every interaction that was not even likely to happen. After all, this was a job only you could do, and it was something that you did better than anyone else. You owned what you did, and everyone knew it.

As you grabbed your keys, and were about to bid farewell to your husband before starting your commute, you sensed his energy shifting to that of scheming.

Seonghwa had a trial to face, and it presented itself with how stunning you looked in the glimmering golden light of the early morning, and how your every step almost sent a shiver up his spine. Wherever you were, he always managed to find you in one sweeping gaze, whether you were on the other side of a room or a few steps away. One of a kind, captivating, the world turned around you whether you would agree with Seonghwa or not. It was a simple fact. And here, in your apartment, where it was just you and him, it was impossible to ignore how his vision was occupied by you, and only you. He was consumed by the effortless charm you radiated, and when you caught him staring, how you lifted one shoulder and responded with a cheeky grin - a gesture of faux coyness. He clenched a hand hidden behind his back into a tight fist until his knuckles turned white, mutely regarding your final preparations before you would disappear behind the door. His thoughts were far away from what he had planned to do today, cursing how you had teased him and blaming routines - your husband would have preferred to take you and himself apart right here right now, unravel the tension that was so obvious he could almost taste it. He bit his lower lip as you leaned down to shift your footing in one of your heels, and barely suppressed a hiss as you glided back up, the pace of the motion highlighting how your curves were complemented by the suit. You were enticing, and watching your back Seonghwa could not help but remember the sensation of running his hand across it, caressing your body, guiding it as you turned into a goddess in the dimmed lights of your shared bedroom, connected with him in every way possible. You smiled at him as though you were not aware of the lustful darkness that began to consume his mind, lips tantalising, dangerous, his favourite heavenly nectar. This was unbearable.

It was impossible to ignore the searing gaze that seemed to have never left you since you had first returned it in the mirror, and was the last thing you experienced as you shut the front door. You kept the radio in your car silent, afraid that your thoughts would be louder than the music either way. Your husband was up to something, determined, and focused on you. And it was beyond exciting. This undercurrent of energy that was eternal, and ran through anything and everything he did was one of the multitude of reasons why you loved him. He was enigmatic, and yet so easy for you to explore. He had opened himself up to you so readily, revealing the edges of his vibrant soul that was so unparalleled and high octane that you swore that after meeting him, you ceased to breathe oxygen and could only ever inhale the adoration he provided. He was a dreamer, an ideator, a man devoted to the search for happiness, and that balanced you out so perfectly - it had only been a month when you had decided for yourself that Seonghwa was the one for you, and you would never let go. He was an eternal surprise, an enigma that was as soft and lovely as a cat, but wrapping itself around you like a serpent, slow and sensual. You wondered, as the day commenced and you were pulled into your first meeting, then another, just what your husband had crafted in his beautiful mind palace.

It did not take too long for the plan to reveal itself. Fortunately, because you did not enjoy facing unknowns. Unfortunately, it was in the middle of a meeting with some rather senior people. On the brighter side, you had proposed a five minute break before continuing the session so you had at least a couple of breaths to re-compose yourself, but other than that… it was only you, the phone that you were squeezing so hard in your hand that it could break, and the daring photograph blaring on the screen, setting you on fire. You had exchanged a couple of messages with Seonghwa prior to the meeting, his responses being cryptic and dizzyingly abstract, but nothing could have prepared you for the surprise.

Your other hand quickly found your thigh, gripping onto it so that you would not break your stoic disposition with a shaking leg, and you glanced side to side to make sure that the colleagues next to you had not returned to the room yet, and the others were preoccupied with their own devices or were deep in mundane conversation. So, this was what he was so enthusiastic about down following the morning antics. Clearly, you had not been passive enough for him to dismiss your glances in his direction - if you were to be honest, you had been eyeing him up and down from the moment he intentionally walked into you while changing, making you wonder how it was possible for you to want him more and more with each passing day, rather than feelings of attraction and enamourment subsiding with marriage and with sharing all the ups and downs. Instead, both of you were each other’s paradise, and that presented itself in all forms of desire. As you regarded Seonghwa’s form in the picture, lightly biting your lower lip as you tried to think of how you could respond to it, you could only be amused by how he knew exactly what buttons to press, and how to reignite what you had tried to pause earlier this morning - simply as an attempt to retain your sanity for handling paperwork and handshakes.

Resting on the chair that was in your bedroom, he made sure to accentuate his impeccable form, and how his long hair suited him so spectacularly. He had changed outfits - just for you, and that made you want to devour him all the more. Your precious husband who looked like sin. The vibrant beige jacket, which appeared almost brown in the sensually dimmed lamplight, hung freely over his upper body, revealing a tastefully bare abdomen, and consequently, the lovebites you had managed to leave above his heart and towards his collarbones after a particularly intense night a couple of days ago - they had only now begun to show signs of fading. Towards the very bottom of the picture you could spot the edge of a matching pair of trousers, black belt intentionally loosened to make your imagination run wild. A centrepiece, his black silver necklace and a perfectly paired earring, were the icing on top of the cake, their shimmer beckoning you. It was impossible to choose what to focus on; the head tilt, the elegant hand on which he was practically resting his head, how one leg had been thrown over the other - confident, in his element, so very Seonghwa that it made you hurt; and want him. Desperately. You shut your eyes and rolled them as you imagined the smirk on his face as he sent the image, knowing exactly what state he would pause you in, and hurl you into. When your husband was in the mood, it gave him an additional thrill to either catch you off-guard completely with bold advances and compliments, or fluster you until you were melting in his arms. And you did not mind one bit; that was your time to let go, to give up your stresses and iron grip and let all strains snap and become threads with which Seonghwa could pull at your very essence, praising you for how well you could follow his guidance, and just how perfect you were for him. You did not notice how your thumb was merely hovering over the keyboard until another message slid into view, and you barely suppressed a gasp, again looking up to make sure no one was watching you.

“Missing you, your taste, your everything, darling,”

This was the last straw, as you almost forgot what meeting you were in, where you were, how you were supposed to behave. You jolted upright, standing straight and excused yourself with a bow of the head, pointing at your phone - with the screen turned towards you. It was easy enough to get out, and storming down the corridor until you were out of everybody’s earshot, you pressed onto the call button, only to be met with a deep chuckle after a single ring. You could envision him still sitting on the chair, head tilted back to stare at the ceiling as he toyed with your passions, beckoning you to race home to him. He knew you couldn’t until the day was officially done, and that was part of the fun. It only meant that when you were to finally open that front door, you would be more than ready to give yourself up to his tender love and care.

“Park Seonghwa, what do you think you are doing?” you hissed, pressing the phone right against the side of your face as your foot tapped an abstract rhythm on the carpeted floor.

“What do I think? I think I am talking to you right now, what about you?” he replied, purposefully feigning obliviousness.

“Hwa, the photo… the damn message....”

“Oh! That… yeah, it’s nothing special, really, I just did not send you any in quite some time, so thought I could spark… something,” he paused, indulging in your shallow breathing before finishing the sentence.

“Well you sparked something alright. Seonghwa. Or should I say, my demon of a husband?” you raised an eyebrow as you were met with a silence on the end of the line, but not long after, a sweet, resonant hum of agreement.

“Mm, what a title. Is that how I am making you feel, precious? Are you missing a certain something too?”

Missing. What exactly did both of you imply the other was missing? The word was laden with ambiguity and promise, imagination running wild from the emphasis that Seonghwa had placed on it, lifting it onto a pedestal, above rationality and stability. Inhale, exhale - you counted your breaths, knowing that in a minute you had to be heading back to talk numbers, strategies, even though only your husband would be on your mind.

“I-... yes, damn it,” you mumbled, lashes fluttering as a shiver ran up your spine.

“Mhm, I see… Now, don’t be shy, tell me, what is it that you are missing, what do you feel?” if there had been any hope of you remaining focused on work for the rest of the day, it was most certainly wiped now. You were mesmerised, clinging onto Seonghwa’s voice as though it was your only salvation in the midst of a storm. Quickly, you were losing all sense of your surroundings, too focused on his breaths, his sigh when he was obviously displeased with having to wait for your answer, and finally, his subtle command:

“Don’t be shy, tell me what’s on your mind,” you could not bring yourself to even part your lips, eyes darting to what you could see through the blinds into the meeting room. Your senior colleagues were still lethargic, unfocused, scrolling away or engaging in idle chatter. Maybe it could be advantageous, but judging by the heat that began to rise over your body you would definitely struggle stringing words together with eloquent cohesiveness. Seonghwa. The devious man. Your favourite drug. Your worst and best addiction.

“Perhaps you might need a little… inspiration… yes?”

“I…”

“...wouldn’t mind having you right on my tongue, writhing, falling apart…”

“Park Seonghwa-”

“I want to taste you. Want to keep you close for a long…” he paused, indulging in your electric silence, “long time, warm my cock while keeping you in a tight embrace, kissing you until we cannot breathe… how does that sound?”

“G-good…” you struggled to mumble out, wondering why your knees were transforming into jelly. The coolness of the wall against which you decided to lean provided some illusion of support.

“Your turn,” his tone turned more commanding and that did not go unnoticed. You bit your lower lip, not caring if that was going to smudge your lipstick. Nothing mattered, “I didn’t spare any details,” he waited. You remained frozen in your own thoughts, thousands of desires darting around your mind, but none being brave enough to escape and reveal itself to your husband. Perhaps for the better:

“Please don’t make me beg,” he must have heard you stifle a sound that was far too inappropriate to ever be heard in the workplace - the airy laugh that you were met with over the line was downright sinful, and made you curse your job. You needed him. Needed the release he was so readily offering.

“Or do you want me to pry your dirty little secrets out of you until you are the one begging?”

A shaky inhale, an equally shaky exhale. You uttered his name, in a low voice only he had ever heard. Simultaneously hostile and tantalising. He now knew that he had you hooked.

“Mm… fine. Please, my darling. Please, tell me all those precious filthy musings swimming around in that delightful brain of yours,” you clenched the phone tighter in your hand and crossed your legs. You knew you had no time, despite easily imagining the position that Seonghwa was in, where he was and how lost he was in a lascivious dreamland. Eyes glossed over, lips wetted with his own spit, tension building in his core which he refused to unwind. Without you, at least. With a sharp intake of cold air, you steadied yourself. You were not about to reward demands with treasures.

“Now, what would be the fun in that?”

“Come on… Y/N, I-”

“Be good, and you might just find out.” you cut him off, offering a fake smile to a colleague who walked past you. You needed to come back. Immediately.

“So you will be heading back on time today, right?” he was daring you, but at the same time it was easy to notice the notes of desperation. Untouched, riled up, overwhelmed. Needy. Just how you loved him.

“Hm… I do have a couple of things I could do…” who were you kidding? You had already gone through the fastest route home in your mind.

“Is that refusal I am hearing?” you heard him shift in his seat, the image of him leaning forwards to put an elbow on his knee so vivid that it was as if he was before you.

“Not at all, love, not… at all…” giving up due to your growing distraction, you let your husband have at least a little bit of hope. Clearly, the words worked wonders as with newfound vigour, Seonghwa bid you farewell.

“Then see you soon, Y/N darling.”

Soon could not come soon enough. You were glad no one could see your leg shaking under the table, and that you were well-practised in discreetly checking the time. Teasing, tugging you along to follow his game, striking you out of the blue and opening the door to the world that only you two shared. You would be lying if you said that you were thinking about anyone else while debating with an executive, or when you were brave enough to point out a blatant assumption that was used to support a projection earning yourself a few pointed questions. But nothing compared to the blaze that caressed your skin, spurred you on and made you feel alive. Your favourite deviant, seductive god, king of your heart and keeper of your soul, he gave you control just as much as he could take it away. Wiping away anxiety, he left anticipation. Erasing doubt, he left a blooming confidence.

And with that feeling and darkened gaze, you were racing against the clock, accompanied by the sound of your soles clicking against concrete, accelerating away from the skyscrapers that housed your professional victories and into winding tunnels. You mutely cursed at every delay and every pause in your commute, but nonetheless made it home in record time, astonished by the vista of the setting sun which you normally could not catch in the winter months.

---

The jingling of the keys alerted Seonghwa of your presence, and he set his phone screen down onto the kitchen table, turning to perch himself on the doorframe. He crossed his arms, a ghostly smile on his lips. Aside from going through the regular domestic chores he had planned for himself - a feat in his far from concentrated state, he had decided to be a little more forward with his demands, much to your shared excitement. This, of course, began with his appearance, or rather, a casual exposure of himself in a way you had always encouraged him to do, loving his body so genuinely that it translated into an unparalleled self-appreciation for him. At the same time, that meant that in moments just like this one, he could use your infatuation with his mind and his physique against you. All for a little bit of harmless fun.

He was right, as always. The moment you lifted your head and were about to announce your arrival, a breath hitched in your throat and words died on the tip of your tongue. Hair loose, bangs neatly falling to frame his face, and that damn jacket with a leopard print inner lining, casually thrown over his bare upper body, befitting him so well that you needed to give yourself some time before choking out a quick, feeble ‘I’m home’ and kicking off your heels. He grinned, outwardly innocent, pretending to ‘just be happy to see you, when in fact his imagination was already beginning to forgo every article of clothing you had on. Scanning your form, Seonghwa could not help but bite back a groan. Since the moment you had left this morning, he wanted you back because he wanted you. On the bed, on the table, on the counter, he did not care about the mess. In fact, if there was to be a mess, he would be all the more satisfied. His skin was burning worse than if he were to have a fever, and every moment that passed while you were going through the regular after work motions was pure torture.

As you finished washing your hands, and were about to tiptoe past him, likely to set your bag aside in your home office, he stopped you with one, quiet utterance.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day…”

Your heart was pumping an unsteady, deafening rhythm, and your hands were on the verge of shaking. Nothing was stopping you from simply giving in… except maybe an inkling of rebellion that clung onto you. He already had you in his hold, mouldable to whatever form he wished for, but if he was to play the long game, so were you.

“Mmm… don’t know about that. Missed the memo,” you huffed, wasting a little too much strength on forcing the phrases. Rushing past your husband, you headed to your office and pretended to be taken by both your bag and the miscellaneous stationery left on the desk.

You heard Seonghwa stalking behind you loud and clear, hyperfocused on his catlike steps, but remained rooted to your spot. Taking every item out of your bag, painfully slow, you were rapidly succumbing to the vision of your husband taking you apart. Gorgeous tanned skin, which you knew he was purposefully flaunting to you, intoxicating plush lips which were so vivid in your mind you could almost taste them, and his skillful hands… which just so happened to now be hovering over your waist. You clenched your jaw when they found purchase on your hips, and almost guided you to stand up and be pressed right against him.

Heat was rolling off your stunning lover in waves, and it was downright unbearable to have your back be connected to his toned chest. Seonghwa had no plans of letting you go. He pulled you closer, until you could practically trace his half-hard cock with your ass. He sighed at the contact, air softly passing over your skin, and let his lips trace a broken line upwards to your ear.

“That won’t do at all…” he flexed his arms as his hands roamed your body, “Fortunately, I know exactly how to show you,” you completely blanked, “what a good husband you have.”

As he was about to toy with the buttons at the top of your shirt, the one on your jacket having been long undone, you sprung into action and stopped him, barely suppressing a smirk as you turned your head and spotted a dash of confusion in his glossy eyes.

“I do have a wonderful husband, indeed. Too bad he does not know how to behave properly,” using the moment you slipped out of his embrace, and sauntered towards the door. Seonghwa was left in shock, starved and needy, having been thinking about you, you and only you all day. But his composition returned just as rapidly as it had faltered. You slowed down before reaching the door, as if being pulled back.

Seonghwa was, indeed, magnetic. Lithe, agile, he reminded you of a panther, slinking across the couple of metres that separated you. You were aching to rip off the beige two piece right where he stood, and involuntarily darted your tongue between your lips, much to your husband’s amusement. He was not quite as gentle this time, grabbing a hold of you until you were chest to chest and securing your position by pressing on your lower back. His breath tickled your face; your hands snaked under his jacket, running over exposed skin, worshipping every part you could both see and visualise.

“Really, Hwa. So eager,” you mumbled, brushing your lips over his, testing the waters and seeing a lustful, desperate storm clouding his dilated pupils.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispered against your cheek, leaving a tentative peck. You dared to glance at him, poking his nose with your own.

“You’re acting out… disrupting me at work… sending such dirty things to me… calling me to tell me how you want me… is this to be rewarded, my love?” a shudder rolled over Seonghwa’s body, resulting in him planting more feverish kisses over your face, moving towards your jawline and finally across to your ear, nipping it.

“How could I ever behave when I need you, and you are looking like this…” his fingers caressed the collar of your shirt, scalding hot, “and are wearing my favourite perfume…” he inhaled, as though he was drunk off your scent - it was nothing more than what had come to be your signature, a bouquet of notes that defined you, but soon enough turned to being another way in which you occupied Seonghwa’s senses.

Both of you subconsciously moved towards the door, getting impatient. Fingertips mapped the hickeys with violently cautious touches, and Seonghwa swore that if he did not act now, he would go mad. It was ridiculous. You were his life partner, a person to whom he had committed with his entire being, and yet with every passing day his desire for you kept on growing and he was falling deeper and deeper in both love and lust. With you in his arms he was a man lost at sea, blanking out, spiralling and devoted to passion. A big difference between your time dating and your married life, however, was that he did not have to hold back on his own wishes anymore, being as explicit as he was comfortable with, knowing that you would do the same, and no matter what, pleasure would be mutual and adoring. And, he needed it. Seonghwa needed you now. His hand moved on its own accord to cup your face and guide it towards his own. Millimetres apart, he set you ablaze along with him.

“...please…” spilled out, a feeble plea. Seonghwa’s eyes were darting all around you, trying to get some kind of answer, permission, anything. You nodded. And the thread holding you two back snapped.

The kiss was messy, animalistic, far from the calm lover with whom you shared your daily life. Seonghwa did not give you a chance to breathe, instead pushing his lips against yours with the ferocity of a starved man. Unparalleled sweetness graced you as his tongue slipped inside, and he eagerly revisited the movements he found most entrancing, his occasional rough and low growls sending you into a frenzy. Your muted whine spurred him on, and he pushed your entangled forms out of the office, and into the bedroom, the door to which had been left open.

One nip, another, it was as if he wanted to mark you as his everywhere, teeth leaving a pleasant blend of satisfaction and a dull pain to spread from your lips and shoot straight to your core. You began to push off his jacket, a request which he readily accepted, leaving him constrained only by his bottoms. Seonghwa would not give you any false advantages, speedily tugging your jacket off you. His erection was pressing into your thigh, and you could not resist grinding against him, eliciting a delicious groan.

Soon enough, your shirt and bra hastily joined your jacket on the floor, while Seonghwa spared no time in kneading one of your breasts, while feeling the air with the other in an attempt to reach the switch on the floor lamp, growling into the kiss when he missed the first couple of times and hand to open his eyes. You broke away from your husband, resting your palms on his abdomen and admiring just how pretty he looked in the warm, dimmed light that washed over the room in a flash. So it was that kind of night.

“...Want to see you…” he mumbled as he pressed his forehead against yours and locked your lips together once more, guiding you backwards towards the bed. When your legs hit its edge, he hooked his strong arm around you, a quick “careful,” escaping him.

“Let’s get this off, shall we?” gliding a finger on the inner side of the trouser waistband, he waited for you to comply. It did not take much time for you to get rid of the remaining clothes, and be left only with the full awareness of just how wet you really were.

You pressed your legs together, only for Seonghwa to inch his knee and push it in between, forcing them back apart. It was times like this when you realised that he really could read you better than you could read yourself, and any gesture, thought or fantasy, was his as much as your own.

“You’re so beautiful, no need to hide from me,” he scanned over your body, and you felt like you were on fire, melting into him. While your husband’s eyes were glazed over with lust, within them they still held so much love that your heart could burst. “Ah, wait a minute,” you watched as he removed his bottoms, and with a hiss, let his hard and leaking cock spring free. His low chuckle was music to your ears, “now we’re good.”

“Mhm… oh Hwa… I really did make you wait…” you lowered your gaze to his cock, finger tracing a line down his stomach and stopping right before its base. He sucked in a shallow breath, nuzzling his face against yours to hide how close he was to being pushed completely over the edge. Patience was a virtue, and he barely had any left. “Let me take care of you, hm?” you suggested, trying to move to the side to gesture for Seonghwa to sit down on the bed. He remained still, and whispered against your cheek:

“No… I wanted to do that- ah-” your leg brushed against Seonghwa’s sensitive cockhead, pulling a gasp out of him.

“Then I have an idea, if you’re with me on this. Lie down for me?” pulling away, you switched where you were standing, and tilted your chin to gesture at the bed that was now in front of you. Seonghwa peered around his shoulder, and back at you, a soft, tiny smile, albeit a meek one, dancing on his lips.

“Baby you’re doing too-”

“Shush, we can make each other feel good,” promptly following Seonghwa, you were now hovering above him, playing with his necklace.

“I love you,” he said breathlessly, making the side of your mouth curl into a half smile.

“I love you too.”

“Now I’m craving something sweet,” you lightly slapped his chest and shook your head in an attempt to hide your amusement.

“Oh stop it…”

“I think I’ll go crazy if I don't have you sitting on my face in the next few seconds.”

“Can’t have that happening.”

You adjusted positions, and once you had your back facing Seonghwa, he pulled your hips towards him to lower your pussy over his face. Carefully, you leaned forward, relishing in the sight of your husband’s impossibly stunning body, every muscle a work of art. After finding a comfortable balance, and waiting for the initial shock of Seonghwa tasting you to turn into a continuous thrum of pleasure, you spat into your palm, and wrapped the hand around his cock. His thighs tensed in response and his grasp became tighter as he rolled his tongue over your clit.

Mirroring him, you teased his cockhead, and only then proceeded to take his length into your mouth, relaxing your jaw and moving slowly to ensure that he would not reflexively buck into you. You flattened your tongue, dragging it along the shaft and spreading spit and precum. You took him deeper until he hit the back of your throat. With hollowed cheeks you began to bob your head at a leisurely pace and not caring for the mess you were making at the base of his cock, clear liquid running down past the corners of your swollen lips.

Seonghwa produced a muffled noise, unable to stay completely focused while you were driving him towards his high, but not breaking contact. He sucked on your clit, making you whine while deepthroating him. Your eyes were starting to water as you wanted more, always more, and you reached to fondle his balls, pausing to get some air. Strings of saliva and precum momentarily connected you still, and the lewdness of the scene was downright pornographic. You were relentless, addicted to this man whom you had the exclusive ability to call your husband. You were the one who knew how to take him apart and put him back together.

The wanton sounds of Seonghwa devouring your pussy stimulated you further, and the coil which had been growing tighter with every pass of his skillful tongue was ready to snap and release. A hint of a trembling sensation passed through your legs, and you sped up your own motions, your hand jerking off the base while you swirled over his tip in preparation to take him fully again.

Seonghwa dipping his tongue between, in and out, and through your wet folds had you seeing stars, and you grinded against him. He gripped you tighter so that you would not be able to instinctively squirm and lift yourself upwards, and circled around your aroused clit, sucking it in between his lips and returning to fucking you with his tongue. His vision was clouded, he was in a daze, unable to process anything anymore, except the static fuzziness in his brain and how delicious you were.

He used up what little attention he had left on your clit, and repeated ministrations had you tipping over the edge and shuddering in his hold. Seonghwa remained buried between your legs as your climax hit you, and held you to prevent your hips from leaving him, and continued to lap at your sopping heat, catching your release. You moaned against his cock, freezing in place and letting your husband chase his high by bucking his hips upwards and using you. In no time, he was painting your mouth and your throat with thick strings of white, falling back onto the bed while you followed to try and swallow as much of his release as you could. Cum and spit was dribbling down your chin and his shaft when you were finished, and once you, with Seonghwa’s help, were laying on your side and face to face with him the unmistakable glistening fluid on his face made you love him all the more. One kiss, another, you tasted yourselves on each other’s lips, choosing to make your lungs scream rather than let go.

He was so beautiful. His loving, electric gaze - a permanent feature of his expression when it came to you. Everything about him was a reason to adore him. You brushed away a strand of hair, one which had stubbornly stuck to his forehead, only for Seonghwa to take your hand in his and plant a soft kiss on its back. You giggled, enjoying the contrast of this intimate, but lighthearted moment as opposed to the passionate exchange earlier. This was how he was, and you would not want him any different.

You took your time regarding him, and he did the same to you. Blissful, overflowing with a want for more. His lips were on yours again, and you deepened the kiss by bunching his long inky hair in your hand. Every reaction, every gasp was your favourite music. Seonghwa rolled over and positioned himself between your legs, arms on either side. Hair perfectly framed his elegant features, and the shadows cast shapes akin to a painting you would see at a gallery. He was a masterpiece.

“Lift your hips for me,” you followed his request, wriggling into position while he lifted himself up to take your legs and bend them towards your torso, “thank you, my love… such a pretty pussy, all mine,” the dirty talk came naturally to him, and it was not your first time hearing it, but nonetheless had you biting the inside of your cheek.

Still sensitive, you whispered his name when he glided his hardened cock between your wet folds. Coated in slick and cream, Seonghwa met no resistance and bottomed out in one stroke. Your loud moan prompted words of praise and adoration, and he was certain that nothing could ever be better than this.

“Ah- just perfect-” you watched his face contort , eyes threatening to roll back as he started to thrust into you.

You could barely form words, sinking into the pillows and peeking at Seonghwa through half-lidded eyes - the most you could muster. All your senses were filled with him, and you swore you were going to fall apart at any moment. Grateful for his arms supporting your legs, you physically couldn’t resist the drowning pleasure, instead trying your best to keep up with his cock drilling into you, failing whenever it brushed over your sweet spot.

“H-hwa-”

“Mm?”

“Kiss me,” you pleaded, making him push your legs further apart and crawl a little ways over you until his orbs, near black in the dimly lit room, were boring into you.

You intertwined, overlapped, transposed into something greater than yourselves. Sharing the same air, you panted in time with your lover and captured his lips with yours over, and over again. His body was so close to yours, that you could feel his necklace brushing over your chest, occasionally touching your neck. Seonghwa filled you to the hilt, the slight stretch turning your moans into barely audible mewls.

“Please- h-harder- I l-love your cock so mu-uch-”

Seonghwa cursed under his breath, drunk from your choice of words, and with one final kiss curled over you and quickened the rocking of his hips to a brutal euphoria. You were on the verge of melting, bodies turning agonisingly hot with each passing second. Your hands searched for his wrists, weakly wrapping around them for some form of support. Carnal; you were infinitely turned on by how instinctive his reactions were. You could not care for anything in the world, words turning to a garbled mess and moans loudly echoing in your husband’s ears.

“F-fuck, you feel so good I’m-” he was fisting the bedsheets, ruthlessly pounding into you, the slapping of skin against skin and your sounds making him fall apart.

His pace faltered as he came, legs shuddering, voice breaking as he unleashed an airy and high-pitched moan, but he still continued to thrust while he filled you with his warm load. He pushed his release deeper inside you, breathing heavily and pressing you more and more into the bedsheets. The squelching was downright filthy, but you wanted to capture every drop and threw your arms around Seonghwa as much as you could given your position, simply so he could be flush against you. He hissed through gritted teeth as your walls began to clench around his aching length, prompting aftershocks from his orgasm.

“Hwa-a, I’m coming, I- don’t stop please-”

“Come for me, love,” his gentleness, even in such a feverish moment, was your undoing. The thread you had been clinging onto snapped.

Your head fell back against the pillows, and if it wasn’t for Seonghwa’s form securing you from above, you knew you would be arching off the bed, uncontrollable. You called out his name like a mantra, and in your ecstatic haze could sense him slowing down, helping both of you ride out your intense climaxes. Vision spinning, you did not dare move, instead transforming into a pliable doll for Seonghwa to rearrange. Shakily, he let go of the bed sheets and sat upright, tapping your legs to relax. Lazily, you stretched out, heart still racing, and barely registered the dip of the mattress next to you.

When you turned, your husband was there, head resting on his hand, propped up by his elbow. He was studying you with a small smile, and when he noticed you were more present, leaned in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Hello,” it was almost unbelievable, just how honey sweet he could be in a matter of seconds, making you more shy than during sex. This made you all too aware and critical of your current state, and you turned your head to search for something to cover yourself with, until you heard a sigh escape your husband, “It’s like I’m dreaming. You’re so enchanting.”

He fell fully by your side, draping an arm over your upper body and gingerly massaging your hip. It was rare for him to not rush to clean both of you off, but you were not complaining about this kind of moment of closeness. It felt raw. It felt real. You got to fall in love for the nth time. Seonghwa’s face was rosy, blushed, and he was just barely steadying himself, but even then, was not letting go of you, choosing to retain all physical proximity in favour of going about routines. HIs cum is smeared over your folds, was dripping onto the covers and had smeared across your inner thighs, you had remnants of spit and release on your face, and yet he was still looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky. His one and only.

“Not too sore? Shall I run a bath?” He poked your nose with his own, grinning when you ran a hand over the side of his face.

“Mm… I’m fine. But a bath would be nice. Can we…”

“Want me to join?”

“Mhm. Want you to give me a head massage.”

“Ah, of course, at your service-”

“Come on…” you chuckled at his joke and trailed off, pausing to stare deep into his eyes, musing everything and nothing all at once.

“A penny for your thoughts?”

“Just thinking how you should send me pictures more often,” a hint of darkness flashed in his eyes; mischief, future schemes formulating themselves. You traced past love bites, ran a finger over his plump lips which were equally as red and swollen as yours, you bet.

“Mm, you changed your mind I see. None of that ‘I am at work’ anymore, then?”

“Maybe you should be the one who is worried now,” you shot back with a smirk.

Seonghwa sat up, swinging his legs over to the edge of the bed, but turning back to give you one last adoring look before launching into a routine long-familiar to you. In no time, you would be taking careful sips of water while waiting for the bath to fill, and your husband would be telling you to stay put, having returned from the clouds and back to finding it unbearable to have clothes on the floor and creasing. Your heart swelled. He was everything at once, flipping switches, changing from one second to the next while still being his gorgeous self. Before, it had made you confused, flustered. Now, you just loved him. There was no other way to put it. You got to see every curve and edge, and always discovered something new.

“I’ll be impatiently waiting.”

❤️‍🔥 taglist: @acciocriativity @justhere4kpop @starrysvn @shakalakaboomboo @uwuheeseungie @frankenstein852 @charreddonuts @miriamxsworld @innsomniacshinestar @foxinnie8 @preciouswoozi @wooyoungjpg @nebulousbookshelf @wowie-hockey @hongjoongs-patience @jaehunnyy @maddkitt @ren-junwrld @pyeonghongrie-main @marsstarxhwa @pocketjoong-reads @yeooclock @yeonjunnie @asjkdk @lucky-cat-cafe @northerngalxy @my-loves-my-life @http-gyu

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ateezinmymind · 2 months

Text

secret

seonghwa x reader

fluff, smut

warning: fem! reader, unprotected sex, cum play, fingering, alcohol + marijuana mentioned

word count: 2.5k

tag list: (let me know if you want to be on it)

the way he stared at you from across the fire made you flush - and not from the burning flames. his gaze hard and seductive, his bottom lip tucked loosely between his teeth. his wet jet black hair splayed across parts of his forehead from the deep ocean he had been night swimming in.

you and park seonghwa had a little secret to keep from the others

something only the two of you knew about, and something your seven other friends couldn’t know about.

“you all good y/n?” yunho pipes up beside you, making youther concentration pull away from the man across the makeshift driftwood bench you seated yourself down at. yunho’s features displayed with worry and confusion, “you haven't even touched any of the food - this is a bonfire girl, get livin’!” his little shoulder groove made you let out a small laugh and shake your head just slightly.

“oh no yuyu, i’m all good, i’m sorry. my mind is all over the place” you say while you raise your hand that has a hold of your bottle of alcohol and joint between your two fingers. “just me and my high ass”

this makes him laugh and shove your shoulder in a friendly manner, and you peek a quick glance at seonghwa once again - finding him staring back with a smirk, his own hand coming up to bring his drink to his parting lips. “well, just had to make sure” yunho adds after he finishes snickering. “you should go out for a dip, it might clear your head”.

this piqued your interest as you began to nod your head with a growing smile, “yeah yunho, that actually sounds really nice.”

“of course babe, just make sure to not go out alone - we can’t have you drifting too far off in the night” and with letting out one last chuckle, he dips his head and jogs off to where mingi and hongjoong were debating - probably about the right way to roast a marshmallow or something of the sort. (you didn’t even bother to look)

perking the arch of your brow up slightly, your eyes catch seonghwas one final time and you decide to take control of the situation. having grown tired of sending flirtatious notions towards each other for most of the night. so, standing up from the driftwood below you, a single nod of your head has seonghwa lifting from his seated position swiftly with an all knowing smile.

“shit!!!” you hiss out, elbows flying out to keep your arms lifted - your face pulling with a clenched jaw. “its freeeeezing”

submerged to your lower ribs, t-shirt halfway soaked, you watch seonghwa dunk below the moon reflected and rippling surface. subconsciously taking a breath in and holding it until he emerges once more.

only then, you let out a small shriek as you feel his nimble fingers just barely dip under your shirt. right above your navel, causing a flutter of excitement in your stomach

“how’s it goin?” he asks you dumbly with a big grin, the glimmering water droplets running down his face. you try and refrain from watching one trail all the way down his chin as your gaze just barely drops down to peek-

“y/n?” he asks again, finally succeeding at getting ahold of your attention, you lift your eyes up and let a small giggle pass. your body submerged in the moving water, yet going nowhere under his soft hold - merely swaying in intoxication. “i'm having fun,” you blankly say with a know it all look, taking in another deep breath - only for an involuntary shiver to chatter in your jaw. his eyes soften at this, and his fingers slide up and around to caress your back and lower shoulders. the feeling makes itself very apparent on your goosebump covered skin. “oh yeah?” he asks, biting back a laugh just watching your eyes squint with yet another infectious snort. “why are you so giggly” he joins.

it was a dumb question really, but that was all part of the fun

lifting your chin a bit higher, your lips just inches away from his - you take your arms over his bare shoulders and lift up off your feet, bringing them around his waist. “i dont know, maybe because im high?” your obvious response made him roll his eyes and finally lower his hold, and support your new position. one hand on your lower back and the other unapologetically on your ass, the contact in turn making you naturally sink more into him.

“o-oh” a small moan escapes your throat as your panty covered heat brushes against his now hardening bulge, having seonghwa let out a responsive grunt.

then silence.

“whatcha doin now” he pipes lowly, slowly closing the distance between the both of your lips and stopping just before you connect. under his close proximity, you adjust strategically and almost deviously - by fully grinding down on his erection. “trying to get you hard” you simply reply, earning a full on moan from seonghwa just before you close the space entirely. swallowing his sounds, the taste of the salty water and alcohol mix with your fighting tongues.

arousal floods your system as your hips continue their grinding motions, seonghwa’s hold on your ass helping guide by tugging and pushing away. and it wasn’t until his hard on painfully strained against the thin suctioned fabric of his boxers he pulled off your mouth, unable to take any more torment. lifting your hips off of him, you whine out from both the loss of pleasurable sensation to your cunt, and the temperature difference of being pulled off his own body heat. though seonghwas hold still on you, your legs drop back down and your feet land down into the sandy ocean bottom.

“okay, y/n, you got me hard” he laughs, exasperatingly. trying to calm his own lust and desire despite the very apparent aroused state. this only makes you roll your eyes and pout.

“you dont wanna fuck?”

seonghwa shakes his head quickly and for the first time looks back at the small group of boys back on the beach yelling back and forth. then back to you - and you're shivering, leading him immediately into decision.

releasing his hold on you completely he leans in for a moment before trudging his way back to shore - “let's get you out of the water and continue, yeah?”

making your way past the scattered friend group was easier than you had initially thought, it just took one look from hongjoong, yunho and yeosang for them to assume the both of you were headed to the parked cars in order for a change of clothes. (the other boys were very immersed in their game of longest handstand, which jongho and san currently battled for the first place it seemed).

the night sky still bright with the lunar glow, you're drawn out of your thoughts when seonghwa gently caresses the back right side of your waist, speaking with a soft tone while closing in towards the vehicles by the beachgrass, “are you wanting to continue?”. looking up, you smile excitedly and nod in response. turning your body to press up against him again once you two disappear behind the car's cover. only this time are you grounded, your intoxicated state backing you up - tongue wetting your lower lip seductively, seonghwa’s grip tightens on you after he chokes out yet another moan. your hand placed over the top of his trousers, palming the (very prominent) hard on he had from moments before.

“please”

how could he refuse such a plea, especially from you - nimble hand between his thighs, your eyes merely staring up into his- almost doe like. taking a look down to watch your hand, seonghwa gives some time to deliberately roll his hips into your opposing touch. “fuck y/n,” he curses, his free hand going down to grab your wrist, “you drive me crazy”

you politely giggle, a blush spreading across your cheeks. “enough talk,” taking the lead once more, you lift up onto your toes and lock lips with him. the both of you in yet another fight for control, moans get swallowed and your positions naturally change. lifted up from the ground, seonghwa slows down the kiss and with one hand (not holding your straddling thighs up) opens the backseat door of his car.

the distant conversations and game shouts from over by the bonfire fade out as he sits you down carefully on the seat. “can i take your panties off?” he questions while casually dropping his trunks, or rather peeling off the wet almost plastered fabric - your eyes dart up before you can catch sight of his cock. your blood runs hot and you feel your pussy clench in anticipation, arousal already leaking from your core, “of course” you confirm, readily lifting your hips to help him grab the waistline. silently smiling, your heart swells from hearing his usual ask for consent.

“i love when you smile,” seonghwa cheers, confidently sliding off your underwear and tossing them into the front passenger seat. the remark makes you roll your eyes, “you always say that, come on i’m getting impatient” you groan out, wiggling your hips and slightly opening your legs with a knowing intention. “we can confess all we want after you fuck me, ‘kay?”

seonghwa laughs at this, and you don’t even have time to realize ‘confess’ was your word choice before lips latch to the nape of your neck and an awaited sigh falls from you. his tongue gently swiping across the smooth skin, seonghwa leans over more into you and when his prominent erection brushes against your inner thigh you snake your hand down to fist him.

he immediately shutters under your touch, pausing his peppering to your pulse points. his heavy and shaking breathing only pushes you further, so beginning to fully jerk him off you watch him attentively from below.

“so handsy” he teases with an airy voice, his adams apple bobbing as he swallows hard, “why don't you help yourself baby, yeah?”

wetting your lips another flutter of excitement confines in your lower stomach, and with an agreeing nod you guide him into position. seonghwa swiftly moves in motion with you and does the go ahead and carefully inches himself completely in your cunt.

feeling his dick glide deeper with ease from all your slick, your walls dilate around him and you both moan in unison- followed with a shared giggle.

“much better” you snide, your voices pitch slightly higher as your body adjusts to his size, making his cock twitch. he smiles and once again dips down to kiss you passionately.

sliding himself out slowly he then- with deliberate ease, thrusts back in. your legs wrap around his waist in response and the sounds of pleasure spill out of both your mouths when he breaks from your lips. “so perfect” he huffs out in an awe-like manner, speeding up. the quicker and harder force makes your tits bounce and high pitched cries flood out your open mouth, his dick reaching deep inside your cunt, kissing your cervix with pleasurable ease.

“oh fuck seonghwa” you mewl, looking up with knit brows at the man above, “yes, right there!!” you watch as he smirks and lowers his eyes down, clenching around him tightly in response. feeling your high near closer and closer with every quick thrust. a hiss of buckling euphoria comes out of seonghwa’s clenched teeth, his dick twitching at the sight of him disappearing inside your tight spasming wetness. his thrusts faltering slightly.

“god- y/n baby, where do you want me to come?” he chokes out as he grabs your hips, slowing down his movements. the grip on you shoots to the pit of your stomach and more arousal floods just hearing him all whiny for you, “anywhere please just don’t stop now.”

with your green light, it had seonghwa pounding into you yet again, his hold getting tighter as he burrowed deep with every rut of his hips.

neither of you had time or care to realize the whole car shifting with your bodies.

grunting, seonghwa gives two more rapid thrusts and pulls out just as he reaches orgasm. his cum spurting out on your cunt. he moans heavily while watching it drip all over, “fuckkkk” he curses, and you whine with your bottom lip between your teeth - hips bucking up for more, “im so close hwa, please don’t stop” you tell him again.

his dick used and twitching, seonghwa is quick to carefully slip two fingers inside your pussy. his release mixes in with your slick as he fucks his cum deep with every thrust of his digits. curling his fingers and stimulating your g-spot repeatedly, your jaw goes slack and your body begins to shake with your climax. “yesyesyessss” you cry out, bundle of pleasure snapping. your thighs clamp around his wrist and hips grind down desperately against his wet knuckles as you ride out your high.

heavy breathing is the only sound once the two of your highs come down and he slides his fingers out between your thighs. carefully spreading them for him again, only now he reaches over and grabs a beach towel from the seat behind you- bringing it down to clean up the sticky mess you both created.

smiling, you thank him and sit yourself up, “of course pretty,” he says as he reaches his arm over the passenger seat and grabs his spare change of boxers under your damp panties, bringing them through your ankles. “thank you” he says in return, sliding them up and over your bottom.

he stops and takes a long look at your face.

“you're so beautiful, y/n do you know that?”

this makes you smile shyly and flush, yet you nod- “yes.. you tell me often-”

“i love you” he blurts out, his own face turning a light pink- “and i know this is a weird time to confess but i-” kissing him before he rambles on, you bring your hands up to his face and slowly part with a giggle. “i love you too hwa”

you see his eyes light up with that and his lips fighting a big smile, so you tilt your head back and tease him

“it's okay seonghwa, you can smile at your girlfriend.”

hearing that he complies happily and laughs “i like that sound of that”

“so do i” you reply, “pull up your trunks so we can go back to the boys?” you ask and seonghwa follows, helping you out of his car after his bottoms are back around his hips.

“do you think they suspect anything about us yet?” he says with a joking snort, “oh please, i doubt it” you reply with a wave of your hand.

as the both of you walk your way back to the group, wooyoung is the first to notice your appearance in the dark distance (still in your wet shirt) and says something- or rather screams to the whole group right in yeosang’s ear,

“I THINK Y/N AND SEONGHWA JUST FUCKED!!!”

#yallllll WRITING THIS SMUT WAS MY MOST DIFFICULT TASK Istg i’m sorry i lost all power #ateez #ateez fic #ateez imagines #park seonghwa #ateez smut #park seonghwa smut #ateez x reader #seonghwa smut #seonghwa x reader #ateez seonghwa #ateez fanfic

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hwatermelons · 7 months

Note

heyyy 🤭 i love love loveee ur ateez writing!! can u do a soft n fluffy bf!ateez when cuddling at night? u can do any writing style u want! <3 thank uuu

ateez ⋆ cuddling at night with them

⋆ 1.6k words ⋆ bf!ateez x gn!reader ⋆ fluff! so much fluff ^^ ⋆ warnings: lots of close physical contact, face touching and chaste kissing ⋆ a/n: ngl i giggled and kicked my feet while writing this even though it took me forever (i'm so sorry about that;;) thank you sm for the request! also, wooyoung is a history nerd.

╭──────────────────────────.★..─╮

hongjoong ⋆ art

hongjoong smiles as he runs his fingertips down the side of your face, snuggled into the blanket facing you. when you'd asked him to trace your face to sleep, he'd wondered why anyone would ever want to be touched that closely at first. but when you explained that it was something your parents used to do when you had a nightmare as a child, he was delighted to offer the same level of comfort.

hongjoong outlines the perimeter of your eyes, nose and lips, working his way from the top of your forehead to the tip of your chin. soft kisses follow his fingers. your eyelids grow heavy as he smooths back your hair, tracing each strand from the root to the tip. he's in no rush to finish his masterpiece, and helping you fall asleep in the middle of it is an added bonus.

you were the most fascinating person hongjoong knew, a tapestry woven in five senses. so to him, you deserved his full attention in order to do justice to your likeness. your lover studies the way the way your lashes flutter in your sleep, memorizes the sound of your steady breathing, contemplates the texture of your skin and all its lovely imperfections that give life to your form. if he could, hongjoong would paint a vision of you on the insides of his eyelids so he could see you every time he dreamed. he settles for painting your face instead, the slow movements of his fingers detailing each cherished feature.

seonghwa ⋆ solidity

seonghwa always loves to surprise you with back hugs during the day, especially with the way you melt into a puddle in his arms every time. so it's no surprise that his favorite way to fall asleep at night is flush against your back, face pressed into your hair and hands holding onto yours, wrapped around you in a tight embrace. seonghwa needs your weight against his chest just as much as you need his solid reassurance behind you. the best part is being able to feel his heartbeat pump out a steady rhythm, the perfect white noise for quieting down any extra thoughts before you fall asleep.

you lean into him, eyes slipping closed. the familiarity of it is impossible not to sink into. seonghwa presses a kiss into your hair as you drift off, his arms a firm reminder that the outside world can't get to you here.

yunho ⋆ beauty

yunho can't imagine falling asleep in any other way than watching your eyelids droop inches from his face through his own sleepy haze. and that's exactly where you are tonight, just like the night before, and so many nights before that. forgetting about the weight of the world in your lover's arms, even if it's only for a couple hours. unknown to you, however, said lover is currently busy fighting a losing battle in his mind against the urge to shower your sweet, drowsy face in kisses.

yunho sighs. he's been trying so hard to hold back for the past hour. but it's late, and he can't sleep, and more importantly he just can't resist anymore. he leans in and touches your foreheads together, then rubs your nose with the tip of his. in his defense, he can't help it! you're just too adorable to him. but when you open your eyes, he panics.

"ahhh, was that too much? i should've asked--" you interrupt him by pulling him into a tight hug. yunho yelps in surprise as you bury your face into his chest, hiding the rapidly rising blush across your cheeks. "it was perfect," you mumble, the words muffled by the soft fabric of his shirt.

yeosang ⋆ trust

the only reason yeosang shies away from touching you in public is because that's something he wants to share only with you. it's sacred. to him, physical touch is a promise between two people, that they'll hold on and never let go through all the bad times, and celebrate all of the good together. from a kiss on the cheek stolen by san or wooyoung to a smothering group hug from the other members, yeosang only allows those closest to him to touch him. so when he lets you wrap your arms around him and tuck yourselves into a blanket burrito and smooth back his hair and press kisses to his temples, you know he can finally fully trust you. you smile to yourself as you hear yeosang's breaths even out, your cherished angel slipping into sleep.

san ⋆ smile

san holds you like he's afraid you'll leave if he doesn't keep up his vice-like grip. to him, there's no such thing as being too close to you. he rarely leaves you completely alone during most of the day, taking the chance to smother you in hugs or kisses whenever you let him at home, and he's always a text away if you two are apart. at night, you're all his, and he loves the fact that you have no escape now. your arms mirror his, wrapped tightly around his waist. but you add your own touch by massaging up and down his spine, earning a soft sigh from him. you can feel his back muscles relaxing through the shiba inu patterned pajamas as he settles his head in between your neck and shoulder, leaving a kiss at the spot he ends up at.

and then san looks up at you with one of those smiles. the ones where his eyes scrunch all the way up but he's too elated to care about how silly he looks (in his opinion, not yours). no matter how long it's been, he still can't believe he gets to see you from this angle every night, the way no one else can.

mingi ⋆ envelop

mingi physically cannot fall asleep without using you as his personal teddy bear. his favorite way to hold you is with his chin resting on the top of your head. you'd be curled into his chest, and he'd have his arms around you like he can't bear to let any part of you escape his grasp.

your princess adores being able to protect you, to watch over you, to feel needed in such a fundamental way. he kisses the top of your head, and you feel him relaxing into the embrace, the tension leaving his muscles. mingi tries his best to keep his eyes open for you, but ends up drifting off first from your warmth. as you shift into a more comfortable position, he subconsciously pulls you in tighter, soft breaths tickling your scalp.

wooyoung ⋆ tale

"tell me a story," you probe wooyoung as he lays his head on your stomach. he loves being pampered by you, and he always looks forward to the end of the day for this. his hair is the longest it's been in a while, and you've been absentmindedly braiding and unbraiding sections of it as he replays one particular step of the choreography he and the others had worked on today on his phone. you can tell he isn't nearly as satisfied with it as he wants to be. but it's getting late and inspiration isn't striking him, so he decides to set down the phone and humor your wish.

wooyoung always seems to have some interesting tale to tell, like the adventures of a legendary historical figure, or the origins of a certain korean tradition, or even the story behind the most seemingly mundane things.

tonight's feature is the latest gossip from the servants working behind the closed doors of an ancient prince's private grounds in the Joseon era. apparently, he’d been busy plotting a coup against his father, the king (“right under his nose!”). but it was completely justified because he planned on passing the throne to his youngest son instead of him ("the audacity!"). wooyoung enthusiastically details the bloody fratricides the prince committed ("i'm pretty sure one was enough to send the message??"), eventually scaring his last remaining brother into abdicating the throne after less than a year ("a single year!").

unnoticed by wooyoung, you fall asleep in the first five minutes of his retelling. he goes on for half an hour before he realizes you've started to snore. at first he's half-jokingly offended, but he knows you were exhausted from the long day. still, that doesn't stop him from taking a picture of your face smushed into your pillow for future blackmail purposes, before snuggling up in the sheets with you. you won't be spared from the story over breakfast tomorrow (hey, you asked for it!), but for now he's perfectly content with hooking his arms around you and falling asleep on your chest, careful not to wake you up in the process.

jongho ⋆ serenade

jongho loves loves loves singing you to sleep. and he loves it even more when you ask him to. from the crook of his arm, you look up at him and softly make your request known. his eyes sparkle in assent, and the gentle hum of 'star 1117' fills the room as he plays with your fingers resting on his chest. you reach up to pinch his cheek, finding him too adorable in this moment, and he makes a face. jongho pinches both of your cheeks harder in retaliation, refusing to let go and chuckling when you swat at his hands. "when i said i'll return all of your love tenfold, i meant it," he teases, fully prepared to smother your face in a bear hug if you dared to acknowledge the cheesiness of his words.

╰─..★.──────────────────────────╯

⋆ likes/reblogs appreciated ⋆ do not repost ⋆ taglist: @gottagetback2u, @mazeinthemiroh

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maxsix · 2 months

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#excuse me wtf #park seonghwa #seonghwa #ateez #he did this for me #no i don't work at KQ #i literally don't know what else to write #wow

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prodsh00ky · 5 months

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from the cradle to the grave

pairing: vampire!seonghwa x reader

warnings: use of words probably, crying, mentions of blood, death, war and violence, seonghwa creeps the reader out by breaking into their house, deja vu era seonghwa look combined with 2023 long haired hwa bc this should be a warning, some angsty stuff, fluff if u squint really really hard, past lives (sort of), reader is referred to using they/them pronouns but i might have left something that suggest they’re female/afab in the way; please let me know if there’s more

wc: ~4.6k words

notes: i tried to finish this in time for halloween (it was sitting in my drafts since 2021...) so this was supposed to be a spooky season fic. it didn’t work but here it is anyways! hope you guys like it. im a big vampire enthusiast and a bIG seonghwa enthusiast which makes me the biggest vamp!hwa agenda supporter so lets gooo

well, at least your gut feeling was probably right.

these last days have been… weird, to say the least. every time you’d go back to your apartment after college you felt like you were being observed, maybe even followed. it was like there was someone always behind you or around the place you were in a way that made you feel like you were never alone indeed, and you didn't like the shivers you got from it. to top it off, the whole thing was giving you even more bad nightmares than the usual; the most recent ones involved big mansions from the eighteenth century or something, a lot of fighting, blood and a pair of piercing eyes staring into your soul. the worst part was that you always forgot in the course of your day that you were having them, only remembering when waking up in a cold sweat from a new one. your friends told you it probably was due to the time of the year since spooky season just began, and you thought it might be it; a scary vibe was nothing less than expected from fall.

but the tall figure standing behind your favorite armchair that welcomed you home seconds ago after you locked your apartment’s door told you otherwise. you automatically move to grab your floor lamp to defend yourself.

“who are you and what are you doing here?”

“so you’re feisty. i should keep track of that.”

his voice is deep but also smooth. he’s probably a head and a half taller than you and wears a white shirt with a v cut, black trousers paired with a black blazer and his neck is adorned with a sole silk ribbon. when he turns to you, you get to see that his long black hair would probably reach his silver pendant earrings if it wasn't tucked into a fancy hairstyle with a silver pin holding the front and that his eyes are sharp and piercing (and strangely similar with the ones in your recent nightmares, but this time they feel familiar and not frightening as usual), just as the rest of his facial features. he is probably the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. but you still have no idea of who he is or how he got inside your house, so you quietly get your phone and dial 911.

“i'm going to repeat it just once more. who are you, what are you and how the fuck have you gotten inside?” he seems too entertained eyeing you from head to toe for some seconds, but he quickly wakes from his apparent trance and answers you.

“right. i'm sorry for the rudeness... and for the invasion, for that matter, although this apartment was virtually 100% accessible for me. oh, and for the last few days too, but i'm afraid the observing was necessary. i’m park seonghwa, one of the royal eight, and deeply pleasured to know you.” he bows lightly and opens his mouth to continue and it shows you a glimpse of long sharp canine teeth. it makes you interrupt him.

“so you’re the one who’s following me? know what, it doesn’t matter actually, i’m calling the cops.” you turn to open the door and get outside, however the keys aren't in the door handle anymore. with the lamp still in your hold you try to open the knob forcefully, adrenaline beginning to fill you due to despair, but the jittery sound of the keys dangling makes you turn to the stranger once more. he holds the keys with his left hand, the right one leaning in the armchair.

“forgive me for my ways, but calling the police won’t be needed and after you listen to me you’ll see why. i’m not here to hurt you in any way, it’s actually… quite the opposite. i was following you because me and my brothers needed to reach you, and after i finally found you i wanted to know who we were looking for. if you’re willing to give me some of your time, i’ll be happy to explain everything i can for now. please?”

considering your options, either you jump out of the window into a 65 feet fall or listen to him. but you still want to be sure someone is keeping track of you, so you move to open the window hoping today the old couple and the friendly lady who lives in the building next to yours and are always inviting you to spend the holidays and have dinner with them are gaping inside your place as usual and turn on the localization device in your phone.

“you have ten minutes.”

“thank you for considering my offer.” he answers, seemingly more relieved, and starts talking. “i’m not sure how to address it correctly… there probably isn't a correct way to do it, so i’ll be plainspoken. i’m a vampire, such as my brothers, and we need your help because you hold powers that can save our empire from the mass attack it is suffering right now.”

you huff, because it’s the only thing you feel like doing.

“you really invaded my house to fool me into a halloween prank? who made you do it? oh, it must have been yeonjun and kai, right? i'm calling the bastards right now, this is way off limits.” you manage to grab your phone in your pocket again but, just like your keys, you see it appearing in the guy’s hands.

“it’s not a prank and your human friends have nothing to deal with it, swear with my long gone soul. i am indeed a vampire, as you can verify by my teeth. vampires exist, such as some other ‘magical creatures’, as your people like to call us. i’m park seonghwa, the second vampire emperor, or prince, whatever you’d prefer, and am here to plead for your help because my empire is perishing and the eight of us can’t do much without you.”

the serious way he’s speaking almost convinces you, but it still sounds so crazy and nonsensical you keep yourself skeptical. you can't avoid some classical questions, though.

“why aren’t you burning or shining in the sun, then? and i don't see you sweating due to the giant amount of garlic in my kitchen. there’s no proof to your allegations, fang boy.”

seonghwa finds it really hard to suppress a smile. you were much more fun (and cute) than he thought, and seeing you being so doubtful only added to the feeling he had.

“because not all the tales you humans like to tell about us are true. garlic does not affect vampires at all, i have no idea where this... thing came from. we only get paler in the sunlight, as you may perceive.” he moves closer to your window, and you can see his slightly tanned skin turning paler and paler until his veins start to become proeminent and dark blue in his skin. it’s almost as if he's like a living canvas full of paint.

“i don’t believe you.”

“do you expect me to prove my identity then? because the only way to do it is by feeding, and im afraid you’re the only human in the nearer 260 feet at least.'' he steps closer and while he’s talking you see his fangs getting longer. and sharper. he touches his pointer finger with his teeth and his skin rips easily as if a needle had been dragged along it. when you look into his eyes they’re rouge as… blood. fear creeps into you and you step back, moving your head no.

“y-you can go on! i will hear you, i p-promise. i'm not exactly doubting it anymore.” you say, voice weak with fear. you move to your couch slowly, eyes still fixated in his every move. “i-im going to sit because this doesn’t sound like a conversation i’ll be able to take in while standing. feel free to sit too.” he moves to sit in the same armchair he’s leaning, but you start to talk again before you forget and his eyes move up to you again. “oh, but i want my keys and phone. you’ll not be getting my help making it look like you want to keep me in captivity.”

he nods, putting your phone and keys in your center table. you grab them almost immediately murmuring “thanks” because well, look where you are. he nods again and waits until you stop moving to talk.

“i’m shall start from the beginning since you have no familiarity with the vampires situation, right?” you nod, asking yourself what a vampire situation would mean. “the… ‘magic’ realm, i’ll call it this way for now because it’s easier, is hidden from human eyes. we have our own rules that exist to ensure mainly two things: that we won’t reveal ourselves to you with ease and that we will have peace, or anything closest to it, within us. some centuries ago people lived in balance and each kind had their own inside rules and organization besides these two major ones, but a riot some of the folks started created chaos and eventually a war. it was a slaughter; many villages were destroyed and many creatures, killed. it’s one of the darkest chapters of our story.

“wait, what do you mean by ‘creatures’ and ‘folks’? you’re not saying…”

“witches, elves, mermaids and sirens, gnomes, fairies, fauns, they’re all real. at some level, at least. i say this due to the fact you humans love to fantasize about their characteristics way too much, as you could testify with me and the sun belief you had. the majority of things you assume you know about them or about ur are probably inaccurate.”

your frown, “and what is the truth about all of you, then? what is wrong in the things i’ve been taught?”

there’s hints of a smirk in his lips, but he tries his best to keep neutral. “curious, aren't’ we? i’d love to share it with you, but it’s best that you learn it by yourself.” your eyebrows raise and he gets the sign to keep talking. “we’ll get there, do not worry.”

he takes a deep breath, a shadow of something gray crossing his sharp features. “after the war finished, pretty much all that was left was chaos. in an effort to save the survivors, an assembly was arranged so we could fix new rules and try to establish things. it happens that the vampires were the race that had the fewest deaths and casualties during the war and managed to better organize ourselves for that to happen, so it was decided by majority that we would rule all races from then on.”

“holy crap-” you tap your mouth, using the best of your self control skills to not laugh in his face, “this sounds like a fanfic i’d have read when i was twelve. how did you guys manage all the power? and you said majority, not unanimity. there was someone against it, i suppose.”

seonghwa allows himself to smile, happy to observe you notice things rather quickly. you try to suppress your own reaction; if he was already handsome poker faced, it felt like his smile alone could convince you about anything he was saying and more. “we accepted it, since it was what most wanted. some begged, even, at some point of the discussion. it was never easy, though. we have faults and committed many mistakes, some worse than others and some… unforgivable, if i’m being honest. but i assure we hardly did then out of personal selfishness, the weight of keeping things in place is always something that humbles us down. and yes, you assumed correctly, there were people against it.”

he pauses abruptly, looks at you and laughs quietly, which confuses you. the fact that his laughing warms you inside has nothing to do with it, you reassure yourself.

“what?”

“if you thought the previous facts i’ve told you sounded like a… fantasy book or so, you can’t wait for the next bit.” he tries to dwell his laughter down to answer you, but you can see he’s struggling. “guess who disagreed with us being in power?”

it takes you less than a millisecond to reply. “no shit it were the werewolves.”

he starts laughing again but freely, not trying to refrain himself, and this time you can’t control the shocked smile that creeps onto your face along with your eyes widening.

“jesus fuck, seonghwa-” you have to pause for a second to recompose yourself, because you started laughing too hard along with him without even realizing, “it was already hard to believe the whole vampire convo and all, now you’re saying that not only other species of magical creatures do exist but the rivalry between vampires and werewolves is real? how do you expect me not to think this is some sort of twilight remake?"

“oh, no, not that movie,” he says while trying to stop laughing, “i’ve never watched it but it has caused enough misunderstandings already about us.”

you eye him up and down, “have some respect, it’s a masterpiece! i’m sure you just have never watched it because you know you’ll get inferiority complex since you’ll never be edward cullen.”

“i’ll pretend i know what you’re talking about and agree.” you laugh but on your own this time, and he can’t avoid admiring the wrinkles in your face when you do it. “resuming, the werewolves were never exactly comfortable with the idea of us in power in the first place, but as i said it was what the majority wanted. it has been like this for over eight centuries, and everything was going peacefully until around the nineteenth century. the werewolves started a rebellion against our empire, and to do it joined forces with each and every wrongdoer in our realm. they managed to have each and every single creature that had committed horrendous crimes as their allies, which caught us by surprise. we’ve tried to talk to them in the beginning, but it didn't work; they started to kill vampires and pretty much everyone that agreed with our power. it has been like this since then, and we were succeeding in controlling the war until one century ago.”

“oh.” nice way to react, you think. but what would be a great reaction for a narnia x game of thrones crossover of sorts? “i’m… i’m sorry, i guess. i’m not sure how to properly react to all of this, and it’s harder to conceive it as true. and what does it all have to do with me? swear i’m trying not to be a jerk or so, but why are you telling me all of this? why did you come after me?”

seonghwa, once again, has to control a smile creeping in. “because you, y/n, might be the key to saving everything.”

your brain short circuits. “what?” you freeze, wanting to laugh in his face, but the serious and hopeful look he gives you indicates he’s telling the truth. then a detail, a tiny but important detail comes to your mind. “wait- how the fuck do you even know know my name? i haven’t said it to you until now, there’s pretty much no mail you could get that from and most of my friends call me by nicknames, how do you know it?”

despair flashes through his eyes, but it’s only for a second. “well, here's where things start getting… interesting. or complex. i know it might sound crazy but… there’s… you… you’re…”

its the first time he seems uncertain or insecure and maybe even afraid in his speech if you squint, but the next bit that comes out of his mouth makes everything really sound like a big joke.

“i’m afraid there’s no easy way to let you know this, so i’ll have to be straightforward. you’re a living amplifier to any type of supernatural being. this amplifying power is given to a human in earth as a blessing from whatever force that keeps the universe balanced from time to time, but there are always at least a few centuries that part the amplifiers’ births. the last amplifier was a friend, an ally of ours that helped - or rather lead us vampires to our victory and was the sole reason why i and pretty much all of the survivors are still alive. i know your name because it was one of the last words he said before passing after sacrificing so much to guarantee peace amongst supernatural folks. i’m here to ask or rather plead for your help, because although we have more resources and ways of fighting now we’re afraid that it might not be enough for the challenges we might face.”

you blink once. twice. then you sneer.

“you know, i was almost believing you. i’m ashamed to admit it, but it was almost getting to me. but after this i'm afraid i’ll have to call kai and yeonjun and tell them to stop fucking with me every halloween season because this is way off limits. you’re a great actor, though,”, you say, reaching for you phone, “i’m sure you’ll go the distance or so. your costume is very well made too, i have no idea who thought about the eye mechanism but is sure surpr-

he takes your hand with his extremely cold one before you reach your phone.

“please. me and my brothers don’t have much time to deal with your doubts properly, and i’m sorry about that, so i beg of you. it probably sounds way far from your human rationality, but have you never felt anything different? any other type or force or liveliness different from what others feel? have you never seen the way some people thrive when they’re by your side? how they go higher than they probably would if they weren’t close to you? how it’s so easy for your to really connect to the people you love and how pleased they seem to be to love you back? have you ever felt observed? have you never seen that there are beings trying to put their eyes on you all the time, specially in nightmares?”

you head starts to spin. yes. he actually had a point. your presence around people you liked seemed to bring them more joy and great opportunities for some unknown reason, and it has been this way since ever. your childhood nickname was “lucky” due to this; the games and toys were funnier and happier when you were around, even if one of your friends got hurt - it would be fine, after all, right? the foster home you grew up in started to receive more donations after you arrived, and your foster dads were able to house even more children. your presence became a must in problem solvings while you grew up, because, for some reason, the fact that you were there made it all calmer and somehow easier. your friends would get higher grades, nicer positions in the school teams, greater opportunities and happier memories if you were involved or cheering for them; you were a walking lucky charm all over your life. your parents, your foster siblings and the few real friends you have always said the love they feel towards you is different than any type of love they’ve ever experienced. kai and yeonjun even like to joke that you have some type of magic on your blood or something, because they feel that your friendship will undoubtedly last for the rest of your life, no room for doubt.

and the nightmares. they were way more intense and frequent when you were a child. creepy and lone places, destroyed cities, dark alleyways stained with blood, desolated ghost-like faces, cries of help you never knew whom they belonged to. but the worse ones were the ones that had eyes around aware of your every move no matter what you did. they were the ones that offered your nights of sleep no mercy and made you wake up crying hard and shaking up from despair for years. funnily enough, they always seem to happen again frequently each spooky season.

“i-i suppose you’re right in some way, b-but-”

“have you had a time where you painted a lot? maybe when you were a kid?”

that’s what breaks you.

“h-how the fuck do you know this?”

his lips curve up, a sad smile reaching his eyes. “eden, the last amplifier, was a painter. probably one of the best ever seen in the whole world, if i have a say on that. an amplifier born will always have and nurture the last amplifier’s talents for at least some time, specially during their childhood. if you took on his talent, i bet your paintings were astonishing, even more for a child.”

your memories flash in front of your eyes: how many paintings have you made for your parents’ office? how many times did you spend your early sunday mornings painting in order to gift your siblings? how many of these were still with them, in their houses, becoming part of the scenery of their lives until nowadays? and why the fact you abruptly stopped doing them when you were nine or ten had never made sense until now?

“i’m- i’m sorry, but- this must be some type of misunderstanding or bad taste joke, that’s ithe only explanation, that's it-”

“as said before im deeply sorry that we don’t have more time to do this with ease but…”, he huffs, looking down and then to you again, “this is what will have you believing me. i’m really sorry.”

he stares into your eyes for one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight seconds straight.

and then it all hits you.

flashes of some of the places you saw in your nightmares, but this time live, in person, because you were there; a giant castle with an art studio, your beloved art studio, where all your creativity flew through the canvases, where life seemed to make more sense. flashes of people you never met; unfamiliar smiles in their faces, but the lingering feeling there’s no physical building that could carry your conception of home more than they could; nights together singing by the moonlight, but also serious conversations and arguing and fighting but always making up because, in the end, they’re your family; war and horrible battles and you standing in all of them offering everything this force inside of you could because things had to end in peace; crying, seeing red and hearing their last words for you. darkness, solitude, happiness, yearning, melancholy, bliss, doubt, joy, frustration, hope, all types of feelings that weren’t and were yours at the same time.

you snap out of it with the feeling of seonghwa’s cold thumbs drying the tears you didn’t realize were streaming down your cheeks.

“i’m sorry this is so unfair to you,” he whispers, “i really wish this could happen naturally, without demanding so much of you and shattering the world you know with such violence as it has always been with the others…”

for a while, you just allow him to hold your face and caress it, too overwhelmed by everything that’s flooding your brain. after what could be some seconds, minutes or even hours, you’re not sure at this point, you move away from his touch and he lets you go, something heavy in his eyes you are not able to decipher due to your state.

“you need time to digest it all, and you’ll have it. i’ll make sure that no nightmares or even visions plague your mind in the next days so you can rest. but i’ll have to come back in a week or two to ask you to come with me and help us if you’re willing to do it. i promise that i’ll answer any of your questions then and that more understanding of what you’re capable of will make it a bit easier. you can share all of this, but be sure to do it only with trusted ones and with as fewer people as possible.”

he gets up and makes the beeline to the door, but comes back and leaves a black business card in the table in front of you, just a single phone number written in red in it.

“if you need anything, do not hesitate to call this number and talk to me. i’ll do anything in my power to help you.”

he opens the door, turning to look at you for one last time. ”we’ll see each other again, y/n.”

seonghwa closes your apartment’s door and in a couple of minutes he’s walking in the street again. he takes his phone, dials a number he knows by heart and waits. the voice that answers him is curious, yet patient.

“hey, are you fine? how did it go?”

he huffs before replying, “as well as you would expect, hongjoong. they didn’t hit me with a broom or tried to shoo away with garlic, but also didn’t believe me until i forced them to see.”

“so you did have to hypnotize them?”

“unfortunately. humans got way too used to believe we’re bedtime stories, specially in this century, so it wasn't something i didn't expect, but i-”

“you’re not entirely comfortable with doing it too, i know. by the way, how did you feel? since it all probably got stronger, was it okay for you?”

seonghwa hesitates for a few seconds. “it was ecstatic, hongjoong. i’m not sure i’m able to fully translate it into words. the more time I spent there and the more I understood about who they are now the more it became hard to let go. this is nothing like anything else that i ever felt, and it’s only the first time i saw them. i feel lost but also as if i had finally found something very important inside me at the same time. i… have no idea of what to do.”

“maybe telling them, if you already didn’t?”

“no way. it was hard enough for them to believe the whole thing, it would be twice as hard if they knew- if i told them things probably would have been even harder. they’ll know when the right time comes.”

“sure, then. it’s your choice. are you already coming back?”

“yeah, i’ll call for the car in some minutes.”

“great. thanks, hwa. i know this was probably tough on you. come home safely.”

seonghwa replies with a hushed see you soon and hangs up. he knows hongjoong just wants to be sure, but they knew each other well enough for hongjoong to presume nothing of the matter would have been said to you by seonghwa.

because how could he? right after stealing the truth you had been living until and shattering it into pieces? it sounded too cruel for him, he felt it in the moment he laid eyes on you today.

time would say when he’d tell you that besides your name, eden also said that the next amplifier would be his soulmate, and that this would allow to change things forever.

©prodsh00ky 2023. no crossposting or translations allowed.

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nebulousbrainsoup · 6 months

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dancing in the rain with ateez - hyung line

SUMMARY: what it's like to dance in the rain with ateez's hyung line, and how it happens. PAIRING(S): ateez hyung line x gn!reader GENRE: fluff! AU/TROPE INFO: implied idol!au, dancing in the rain, established relationship WORD COUNT: 1.7k WARNINGS: mild language RATING: g A/N: i've had these thoughts rolling around in my head for an absurd amount of time. what better time to get them out than the teezer 5 year anniversary? maknae line coming soon. and a huge shout out to my twinnie @pocketjoong for the beta, mwah. NET PINGS: @wonderlandnet

hongjoong (wc: 422)

it’s a near torrential downpour when the two of you finally emerge from his studio. you were deaf to it in the soundproofed walls of hongjoong’s second home, but in the halls of the kq building, the pounding rain echoes clear as day. his eyes widen and you sigh.

“we could stay and see if it passes?” your boyfriend suggests, and you roll your eyes.

“joongie, it’s three in the morning. we need to get some sleep tonight. and besides, i told you to bring an umbrella. this is just karma.”

resolutely, you start for the door, and you hear hongjoong groan behind you. his footsteps pick up again a moment later.

“i just don’t want you to get soaked, sweetheart, i—”

you reach the door and turn, quirking an eyebrow and smirking at him. “are you sure you're not more worried about your hair?” you tease, reaching up to ruffle the freshly dyed shock of blue.

he rolled his eyes and batted your hand away, pink tinting his ears. "that, too."

grinning, you take his hand. before he can react, you yank him through the doors and onto the sidewalk. your laughter and the roar of the sheets of rain are not enough to drown out his squawk of protest as you're both doused.

when you turn to face him, there's an exasperated grin on his face. he tugs you back to him, your own surprised shout leaving you as you collide with his firm chest.

his arms lace around your waist as your hands settle on his shoulders, and he slowly starts to sway to whatever tune is playing in his head. a soft smile overtakes your features and you reach a hand up, carding your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

you both sigh as your lips meet and you melt into each other, the rain muffling the sounds of the city and wrapping you up in your own little world.

you're still swaying when you part, eyes closed as you press into each other, fighting off the chill sinking into your bones with each other's body heat.

hongjoong pulls back when a shiver lights down your spine, and you reluctantly let your hand drop back to his shoulder.

a shock of color catches your eye before you can meet his adoring gaze, and you bark a laugh at the pale blue tinting your fingertips and under your nails.

“maybe you were right about your hair,” you hummed, waving your stained hand between you.

“karma.”

seonghwa (wc: 357)

you’re on a quiet stroll through your favorite park, one hand wrapped around your favorite drink and the other laced with seonghwa’s. clouds have hung in the air all morning, the smell of petrichor lingering in the air. but they’ve been there for longer than just today, so neither of you are particularly worried about it.

until, that is, you feel seonghwa startle next to you. he looks up with a furrowed brow, patting the top of his silky hair.

you tilt your head at him, curious and questioning. “what’s the matter?”

he frowns, reaching an open palm out and shaking his head. “nothing, i guess. i thought i felt rain.”

you frown, reaching out a hand and looking up. nothing. still, you turn your attention back to your boyfriend. “we can head back home, if you’d prefer.”

to your surprise and delight, he huffed a sigh and pouted, shaking his head and tugging you back along the path you had been following before. “no. i’m enjoying this too much.”

it only takes a few minutes before you’re both regretting that suggestion, diving for cover underneath the branches of the trees around you as the rain starts to patter to the ground.

you’re both laughing as you run a hand through your hair. “maybe we should have gone,” you sigh, blinking up at him.

seonghwa hums thoughtfully, a soft smile playing at his lips. “or maybe it’s a good thing we stayed.”

he stepped toward you, one strong arm wrapping around your waist. he pulls you into his chest and you can feel the warmth radiating from him as you offer him a confused smile, resting your open hand and your near-empty drink on his shoulder.

slowly, he steps back out into the rain, giving you ample time to protest before you’re getting doused too. for a moment, you flinch, but as he starts to sway, you relax in his arms again.

sighing, you match his rhythm and press your lips against his own. “maybe it is a good thing we stayed.”

your hopeless romantic of a boyfriend beams, pulling you closer and kissing you once again.

yunho (wc: 409)

you’ve found yourself like this countless times, leaning back against yunho’s warm chest as you both watch the rain fall in curtains against the window. for as long as you’ve been together, rainy days have been for curling up together and keeping dry, but today a certain romanticism tugs at your heartstrings.

“what are you thinking?” he murmurs against your temple, ever-aware of the smallest shifts in your mood.

“just being wistful and dreamy again,” you sigh, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. “nothing bad, i promise.”

“okay,” he sighs, a curious lilt in his voice. “then what is it?”

“thinking about dancing in the rain, like we’re in a music video or something.”

you saw him brighten in the reflection, his sunshiney grin warming your heart. “let’s go, then. let’s do it.”

you turn in his arms, blinking back at him in confusion. “are you… are you serious? we don’t have to; it’s just one of those dumb little romantic tropes—”

he nods eagerly, releasing his hold around you to take your hand instead, tugging you toward your front door. you follow him in a bit of a daze, a disbelieving smile plastered on your face.

he barely stops to grab your keys and doesn’t give you time to put your shoes on before he’s dragging you out front and into the grass. you squeak at the chill, startled, but follow him as he tugs on your hand, spinning you back into his arms.

the look in his eyes is one you can only describe as “pure adoration” as your open hand lands firm on his shoulder, and he hums softly as he sways with you.

“is it everything you thought it would be?” he teases, eyes twinkling down at you.

“all that and more, yuyu,” you giggle, leaning up to catch his lips in a chaste kiss.

a flash of mischief glints behind his eye, and before you can process the movement, he’s dipping you back toward the ground and locking your lips, kissing you deeper than he had all night.

he swallows the gasp that leaves you and you melt into him, finding yourself completely breathless as he pulls you back up to your feet.

“so much more,” you sigh, giggling against his lips as you trade smaller, sweeter kisses, completely lost in each other as you sway to nothing but the sound of your own breaths and the water falling around you.

yeosang (wc: 527)

“how are you entirely out of batteries?” you groan, flopping back against your boyfriend’s bed. “you’re a gamer, aren’t you supposed to be well-stoked in these things?”

somewhere on the other side of the bedroom, you hear him grunt, huffing an annoyed sigh as you realize the sound was likely accompanied by a noncommittal shrug. “most of my stuff is rechargeable or hardwired. and if i need a flashlight, i usually use my phone.”

“well, maybe you shouldn’t have let it die, then!”

“like you’re any better. i saw you playing pocket camp until yours died, too.”

he’s right and you know it, so you don’t press the issue any further. you can already feel boredom sinking under your skin, though, and you breathe another sigh. outside, lightning flashes and thunder rolls, briefly silhouetting your boyfriend against the window.

“it looks like the convenience store on the corner has power. we could go grab snacks and batteries, then come back and play board games? or maybe the power will be back on by then.”

you join him, huffing an annoyed sigh as he’s proven right. “so the shady corner store has a backup generator and your top-of-the-line dorm doesn’t?”

“there are more fridges in there.” you shudder at the thought of his own fridge. “c’mon, let’s beat the rush, just in case.”

it isn’t until the front door of the building clicks shut behind you, the familiar electronic buzz of the door’s lock glaringly missing that you realize your mistake, “yeo, we can’t card in.”

he stops in his tracks, blinking with his head half-turned to face you. “shit, you’re right.”

heart dropping, you reach for the door handle, groaning when it doesn’t budge. you try again, tugging harder and harder, panic rising in your throat—

until a warm hand envelopes your own, gently prying your fingers from the metal before pressing a kiss to the tip of each one. you look up at your boyfriend, an apologetic smile on his face, and let yourself slump against him. he hums quietly, the low rumble entwining in his chest with the beating of his heart, and you feel the tension slowly drain from your body as he rocks you gently from side to side.

“we can still go get snacks, if you want,” he murmurs after a time. “then we can just… hang out until the power’s back on.”

“not like we have much choice,” you grumble, wrapping your arms around his waist.

he hums once in affirmation before picking his tune up again, shifting in a small circle as he sways with you. you feel his sigh more than you hear it, his lungs expanding for a moment before he lets his eyes slide closed.

“besides, isn’t dancing in the rain with the love of your life supposed to be romantic?”

you’re silent for too long, and when he opens his eyes, he’s relieved to find you grinning up at him, all wide-eyed innocence. “am i the love of your life, sangie?”

his eyes go wide, cheeks and ears blossoming pink as he realizes what he said. well, there was no going back now.

“yes. you are.”

TAGLISTS: (open, send an ask to join) permanent: @justhere4kpop @tastymintchocolate @soul-jae @ad0rechuu @seonghwaddict @thatonenoonaateez: @pyeonghongrie-main

#cromernet #wonderlandnet #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez headcanons #ateez fluff #hongjoong #kim hongjoong #seonghwa #park seonghwa #yunho #jeong yunho #yeosang #kang yeosang #neb.atz #nebulous writes #neb.atz.ditr

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cvpitvno · 1 year

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honestly, i dont see enough yunho + seonghwa double teaming the reader🥹 like, yunho the hard dom, and seonghwa the soft dom. or maybe its the other way around

honestly i love that both of them have the duality and capability to take on both roles. depending on the agreement of the night, it could honestly go either way — one going hard and one going soft or both falling into the same role at the same time.

yunho as the hard dom would be so teasing — he’d make sure that with his time with you, he’d make you a shaking and crying mess from just the foreplay alone. in this duo, i think yunho would like prepping you for seonghwa, and tends to get more rough even in prep alone. he’d draw two or three orgasm from you with his fingers and tongue and would leave your ass red from every spank of disapproval from him.

when it’s seonghwa turn… my man is so gentle with you. his smooth palms soothe over the redness of your ass and he kisses away any tears still dripping down your cheeks from his counterparts roughness. hwa would make sure you’re calmed down before he has his way with you. when he finally sinks his cock into you, he’d be whispering the cutest shit into your ear :

“such a good baby for me.”

“yunho was too mean on you wasn’t he? it’s okay, i’m here to make you feel good now.”

“hold onto me princess, tell me if you need a minute.”

afterwards, i think both of them would slip into a caring mode for a few minute, trying to gouge if you can take one more time, this time with the both of them.

if not, yunho slips into his regular golden retriever mode and cuddles you, hands soothing over the marks he left on your body, whispering light apologies into you ear for how rough he was, and seonghwa falls into the task of getting all three of you cleaned up, hydrated, and cared for before bed.

however… if you whine out a yes…

your soft dom hwa might embrace the darkness a little bit and more times then not you’d find yourself stuck between the two boys, taking both cocks at once as you plead for the both of them to stop being so damn mean and to let you cum.

#𖤐 — atz writings.#𖤐 — yunhwa.#ateez smut #ateez x reader #kpop smut #kpop x reader #yunho x reader #yunho smut #jeong yunho x reader #jeong yunho smut #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa smut #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa smut

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icarusignite · 9 days

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PIRATE! ATEEZ MASTERLIST

Pairing: Captain Hongjoong x Runaway Princess Reader Summary: Weary of the gilded cage of royalty, you escape your opulent life, only to realize that your longing for freedom has landed you in the clutches of ruthless pirates. Determined to prove your worth, you must persuade the enigmatic captain to defy the bounty on your head. (coming soon)

Pairing: Siren Yeosang x Poacher Reader Summary: You have always lived by the code of the hunt, and as a skilled poacher of exotic creatures, the only law you abide by is that of your own survival. But when a lucrative contract tasks you with capturing a siren alive, you find yourself ensnared in a perilous game where delivering the prize without succumbing to your own guilt or its elusive song proves impossible. (coming soon)

Pairing: Ex-Naval Officer Jongho x Captive Reader Summary: As the daughter of the naval commander, you find yourself ensnared by the very pirates your father hunts. Among them, your most ruthless captor is none other than the man who once served your father but is now a deserter of the worst kind. As days turn to weeks, you uncover the hidden truths that drove him from the ranks of the navy, and through the eyes of your captor, you witness the cruel corruption that festers within the very force sworn to protect the seas. (coming soon)

Pairing: Cartographer Yunho x Pirate Reader Summary: When you find yourself marooned on a remote island after your ship is stolen, you must rely on your wits to survive. With the unexpected help of an old friend, you join a new crew ready to take back what was yours. Among your new allies is the soft-spoken cartographer, whose quiet strength and compassion offer you unexpected comfort. (coming soon)

Pairing: Explosives Master Mingi x Medic Reader Summary: Life as the ship's medic is no easy task, battling not only the fierce skirmishes and injuries typical of a pirate's life but also the ship's resident explosive expert, who constantly finds new excuses to seek your company, often accompanied by yet another injury for you to tend to. Despite your repeated warnings, his cavalier attitude toward safety continues to test your patience and skills, until his recklessness costs him more than he could ever anticipate. (coming soon)

Pairing: Lookout San x Spy reader Summary: You have managed to infiltrate a notorious pirate ship through deception and lies. Your mission: to pass on their secrets to their enemies. But navigating the perilous waters becomes increasingly difficult when you discover the all-seeing eyes of the ship's lookout, who seems to witness all and scrutinize your every move. Caught between the need for stealth and the watchful gaze that seems to penetrate your every facade, you must tread carefully, or risk being exposed and facing dire consequences. (coming soon)

Pairing: Firstmate Seonghwa x Ghost Reader Summary: Trapped for centuries within an ancient artifact as a restless ghost, you find yourself unexpectedly released by the intimidating first mate of a pirate ship. However, there's more to him than meets the eye, and as you struggle to adapt to a world you no longer recognize, he finds himself strangely drawn to you and your secrets. (coming soon)

Pairing: Quartermaster Wooyoung x Pirate Hunter Reader Summary: You have dedicated your life to eradicating piracy from the seas, but when a case of mistaken identity finds you on the wrong side of the law, you're forced to flee with the very crew you have sworn to destroy. Onboard the pirate ship, tensions run high, and you find yourself torn between your duty and an unexpected connection with the charming quartermaster who is determined to make you stay. (coming soon)

A/N: lol so Ateez at Coachella was my final straw and I absolutely had to write for them. This pirate/maritime theme has been rattling around in my head for a while so I'm excited to get into it. They're probably going to be one-shots or maybe 2 parters if they get long. Comment if you wanna be added to the tag list <3 will probably post the first one sometime next week cuz exams this week rip

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yuyubeans · 21 days

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dusty dreams

pairing: hwa x nightmare relief

genre: fluff

wc: ??

yk those pet rocks like everyone had as a kid? that's what hwa was to you, your rock. always there no matter what.

as your heart started to race, you jolted awake, gasping for air, angry beads of sweat dotted all over your forehead, hands clenching the sheets tightly, slightly waking up seonghwa, "baby what's up?" you just blinked, trying to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that still lingered in your mind. "nightmare hmm?" he's said, gently helping you lay on his chest, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, as slowly the realization dawned that it was just a dream, thank god, with a deep sigh, you shakily sunk back into seonghwas chest, relief washing over you as he welcomed the comforting embrace, "you're so brave, theyll never hurt you I promise"

he's always there :))

a/n: for @moonchildust I hope you like it :3

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roomsofangel · 3 months

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CHAPTER THREE

call it fate, call it karma .ᐟ

wc 1.7k

if you’d like to be added to the taglist please either send an ask in my inbox or leave a comment to be added to the taglist! reblogs and comments are also very appreciated! ^_^

chapter warnings mentions of blood. implied violence. the timeframe being near halloween, so it’s mentioned — just a heads up for any readers of mine!

chapter starts off in a scene with hongjoong’s pov at first! but the rest is in y/n’s!

park seonghwa had a list.

and hongjoong kenned that if you figured out what was truly on it — you would turn your back on seonghwa again

after all, hongjoong always knew you best.

yet, he also knew he was the cause for all of this — your demise, seonghwa’s anger, not to mention being the granter for the villain san was today

it all fell back onto him.

but who could protest?

hongjoong was the god of fate and its never-ending doom — this was all he was ever going to be.

“you don’t have to do this again, seonghwa,” hongjoong’s voice was frail, his hand ghosting over his throat that was sore, coughing up metallic tasting crimson, “we don’t have to do this again.”

seonghwa lifted his best friend by the hair, tilting hongjoong’s head back harshly before seething into his ear, “then you should’ve stopped at the second life.”

your index finger traced the spine of the heavy book you held in your hands, dust and dirt covering the object with multiple layers — the entire library seonghwa had in his home reminded you of a ghost that could not stop haunting

and as if you were only going back to wail in your crime scene

the room as a whole didn’t twist your mind, it was the books that resided on every shelf. if someone asked you to, you were convinced you could recite every word from the thousand pages in there — even when you swore you haven’t picked them up before

seonghwa said he had to catch up with hongjoong — whatever that meant, you had to fight the question due to the fact you had endless more, your mother being safe and sound was your most recent worry that dissipated

you hoped to call her soon, even when she might want you to stay far away from her. trouble always followed you after all.

sighing, you set the book down, the stains of dirt clouding the tips of you fingers, your thoughts started to wander off more

hongjoong seemed so familiar, now that you were sitting down and thinking back with a calmer mind and not a desperate desire for survival — hongjoong felt more familiar than seonghwa did if anything

“you’re still awake?”

your body jumped up, eyes flinching before you lifted your head to see seonghwa who stood by one of the shelves, his hand helping him balance his weight so he could lean against it — “it’s nearly three in the morning,” he chuckled

blood.

blood stained his collar and you hated that you knew exactly who it belonged to, yet, you stayed quiet.

for now.

“i couldn’t sleep,” you sighed, standing on your feet to put back the book you failed to read, “how did your meeting with hongjoong go?”

he slightly flinched at the mention of the other, seonghwa putting on a poker face and smiled, his eyes told a different story on how he felt,

it was funny really, amusing even

him being the god of death, and yourself a mere human

yet, you were finding it so easy as time went on that reading him like your favorite novel came natural — you saw right through him as he did you

“it was okay,” he swallowed his distaste, “come, let’s get ready for bed,” his hand extended for you to hold

the first night was always the hardest, it could be implied for anything

but taking his hand to wash up and get ready to sleep — you were left with a foggy mind, because truthfully, this didn’t feel like a first night at all.

the sun was bright, bleeding through the maroon lacy curtains of seonghwa’s bedroom that you were residing with heavy blankets, the spot next to you empty

you almost wanted to believe everything that took place was a lucid dream — yet, his scent was heavy and where you were screamed otherwise

rubbing your wrist, you managed to pull yourself out of bed after contemplating if you should just yet, stumbling and wandering out and down the halls of his overly large home to find the kitchen

“morning,” you heard seonghwa, following with a sound of a mug getting placed down onto a marbled surface, “i didn’t think you’d be up so early, i was gonna go get you food,” he followed up with

“i don’t have much, people like us don’t eat.”

you knew what he meant, which also made sense when it came to sleep as well — “you didn’t sleep either?”

“those things aren’t necessary anymore, but i still can…” his eyes flicker to the window and then yourself again, you noticing a slight change in his mood, “it helps make me feel human.”

you nodded your head in understanding, moving so you could prop yourself up on the counter to sit

then as if it didn’t process before, it did now — what did he mean by anymore?

“do you have plans today?” he asked, almost as if he was trying to make your questions subside and focus on something else

and sadly it worked for now,

“i wanted to go to the café again, get my usual,” you noted, looking at him to try and pick apart his body language at the mention

“morning routine?” his mouth went dry it seemed, his hand taking the cup he placed down to take a drink, “i could go with you, i have to pick up a few things.”

humming, you shook your head, “don’t worry, i’ll go to a new café,” you tried to reassure him

and he wanted to believe you

you could see that

then he sighed, “no, you can go to the one you usually go to,” he cleared his throat, “just tell me if san bothers you again, okay? promise me that.”

and you nod, “i promise.”

plopping yourself down so you could scurry to change, you could’ve sworn you heard seonghwa mumble something

something along the lines of,

“because i don’t want to have to repeat fate.”

your nose twitched, sitting at the same table you enjoyed after ordering your usual tea, however this time you requested a new pastry they were having — ironically, it had to do with all things death, it was going to be halloween after all.

which only made you find everything even more ironic.

of course, you of all people, were getting married to the god of death during the month that has all sorts of creepy aspects attached to it

but that didn’t mean you hated it, october was still going to be your favorite month — this just… made it more complicated

you snapped out of your thoughts feeling an intense presence, wanting to assume it was seonghwa with the way it felt

the clink of a glass plate setting onto the table and seeing arm move a bit to set your drink down, your eyes flicker up to see a familiar face

san.

“you came back, eh?” he humored, his voice sending chills down your spine before he invited himself and took a seat across from you, “i liked these, they tasted like home,” he chuckled

referring to the skull shaped cookie that rested on your plate, you scoffed, “i come here every morning,” you tried to deescalate anything before it truly started

and san picked up on that,

you could tell.

“i don’t want any trouble, y/n,” he shook his head, “if anything, that’s the last thing i want.”

and you hated that you couldn’t see through him like you could seonghwa despite the fact he felt just as familiar too

“seonghwa told me i need to stay away from you,” you briefed, hand extending to grab your drink but his overlapped yours, eyes widening for a moment due to the sudden action

“and you suddenly let a man control your decision?” he rolled his eyes, laughing bitterly before you yanked your hand from underneath his, “my y/n never let a man tell them what to do.”

his y/n?

“excuse me?” it had came off more harsh than intended, but with the way san grinned — it seemed to have an opposite affect, if anything, you could detect the sinful undertones with the way he licked his lips

he laughed, “seonghwa isn’t the only one who can answer those questions of yours,” he arched a brow

blinking, you broke apart a piece of the cookie so you could distract yourself, “what do you mean, san?”

“ah, i love hearing that,” he sighed affectionately when you called him his name before his face went monotone, “but i sadly need to get back to what humans call a job,” he groaned, his hand’s gesturing to the line that was starting to build up and his human coworker calling out for his help

you laughed, despite the fact that the feelings you had weren’t amusing and instead, filled with terror on how you were going to explain any of this to seonghwa, “better get back to it,” you began to gather your things after placing the baked good piece into your mouth to get ready to leave and enjoy your drink elsewhere

“let’s meet again though, okay?” san pushed himself out of the seat, dusting himself off, “but without seonghwa knowing.”

your head sprung up at the mention of seonghwa’s name and it made san laugh, “you think i don’t know what he probably said to you?”

“not everyone is to be trusted, y/n, no matter how familiar they feel.”

and for some reason,

you feel as if you had been told that before,

“not even you?”

san blinked a couple times as if he was taken aback, you stared back at him suffering the overwhelming sense of deja vu

“especially not me,” he repeated words you heard before, except you could recall him not being the one who said them

you watched him walk away, hands starting to tremble as you gathered everything and made your way out, looking around before finding your car

and you froze, eyes landing on hongjoong who stood in front of your driver’s seat door, his eyes meeting yours instantly

yeah, deja vu was not going easy on you today.

PREVIOUS . . MASTERLIST . . NEXT

taglist (open)

#. . ꯭ ☥˚━╋ lavender blood!#park seonghwa fic #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez writing #ateez au #ateez ff #mythology au #park seonghwa writing #park seonghwa #park seonghwa angst #park seonghwa au #park seonghwa imagines #park seonghwa x reader #park seonghwa smut #ateez seonghwa

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jeonride · 8 months

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hi are u taking request? read ur san oneshot and i like it sm ⭐ so what if husband!hwa being such a tease to reader whos touch starved but theyre still fighting and hwa saying "aren't you still angry" like that? smh he'll sound irritating 🙄🤚🏻 yet i'm in my mood to sassy hwa lmao btw holy moly ur theme sickkkk

yeah babes i'm taking request and you're being my first requester! <3 tysm for saying that and i made your req into smut drabble tho i hope it's okay for you :((

aren't you still angry?

SUMMARY; seonghwa looks too good tonight that even makes you want to be touched by him. the problem is, you're still angry and you feel extremely ashamed to say it out loud.

FEATURING; seonghwa x afab!reader

TAGS; fluff, marriage au (husband!seonghwa), non-idol au, smut (MINORS DNI!)

WORD COUNT; 1.3 K

WARNINGS; use of pet names, degrading words, fingering, nipple play, pussy slapping, mentions of arguing, and hwa is such a tease here prolly makes you irritated lol

NOTES FROM KALA; scrolled through my gallery and found this photo of hwa that made me- HOLD UP THIS MAN'S GORGEOUS AF

jeonride's masterlist / join the taglist here !

Seonghwa glances at you, his wife who seems to be fidgety or something, he can't really tell, as your feet keep moving, making Seonghwa unconsciously notice.

"You okay?" he asks. His eyes are filled with worry, even though you're still fighting and haven't really forgiven each other.

You bite your lip.

No, you are not.

Definitely not okay.

You don't know why, but it feels like you desperately want your husband tonight. Seonghwa's appearance tonight is enthralling, so tempting, and it's dangerous for you. The way his satin pajamas shape his broad chest, oh, your eyes can take a look at his cleavage. And let's not forget the glasses perched on his sharp nose, which he uses to clarify his vision because he is making a report. You do have a thing with people wearing glasses. And seeing your husband wearing his reading glasses makes your way of breathing strangle. You are trying to be casual, but it's so hard because,

Seonghwa looks so tempting when you are still angry and fighting with him.

It's embarrassing if you're the first one to wave the white flag of surrender because you caused the problem. It was a small fight at first but for some reason, it became very intense and now you're the one sulking at Seonghwa. Though he should be the one who's angry at your childish attitude.

"You keep spreading your legs for no reason. Want something, hm?" asks Seonghwa while cupping your cheek gently with his palm. You are sitting side by side, both of you just minding your business. You're watching a comedy TV show that you think isn't funny at all, such a waste of time. You don't need any bullshit jokes right now. Because Seonghwa's lips are the most attractive thing tonight, making you instinctively want to kiss him.

But you don't.

You hold back.

You're still holding on to the dignity. Stubborn as you are but your heart wants him as much.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

Seonghwa grins. His left eyebrow raises. He knows you need him. It's so obvious that he can interpret your body's reaction exactly. He can feel you tensing up when he looks at you, as well as the faint blush on both your cheeks and now you're crossing your legs like you're trying to hold back your arousal. He's aware of that. Your body movements are so agitated for someone who says "Nothing, I'm fine".

"You sure? You seem.. suffering," Seonghwa's grin getting wider. Suffering because you are resisting the urge to kiss him and the desire to be touched by your husband, to be more precise.

"I'm fine, Seonghwa. Just go back to whatever you were doing, don't mind me."

"Okay, love." Seonghwa strokes your shoulder, giving you a gentle massage that makes you bite your lip, such an unnatural reaction. Not like the usual you.

Seonghwa knows what you want, of course. He fucking knows. But he wants you to say it, wants you to get used to communicating with him no matter how angry you are because well, the habit of shutting yourself up because of an argument but still acting sulky is irritating to Seonghwa.

Seonghwa is sure you're feeling irritated too, right now. Because you suddenly click your tongue, and it sounds like the angry one you usually give him on special circumstances.

"What is it? Stop clicking your tongue as if you want me to understand what you want." Seonghwa adjusts his glasses, looking at you sharply. "You need to learn to ask nicely. Because really, I don't understand if you just click your tongue like that and say you're doing fine."

You pout, and whimper at Seonghwa. With doe eyes, your fingers tug at the hem of his satin pajamas, all while your mouth still releases whining sounds. "Seonghwa,"

"Yes, love?"

"I want you."

Seonghwa chuckles. His face looks surprised, not believing what you're saying to him, and it's a reaction that has the meaning of sarcasm. "Aren't you still angry?"

"Forget it. I forgive you for tonight because you look so good now."

"Oh, just for tonight? What if tomorrow night you want me again?"

"Seonghwa," you whine loudly. Resentful of the way he teases you, resentful of the way he plays with you like a child. The man giggles. He takes off his glasses, leaving his report behind because he wants to give you all his attention. His gorgeous wife, you, seem to want something but are embarrassed to say it because of your pride.

"Stop being such a whiny baby and talk properly. When we were arguing you looked fiery and shameless."

Such a tease.

Seonghwa, your husband, loves to tease you so much that his back sometimes is being the victim of your punches."Speak up, my love. I'm all ears."

"I said that already, I want you." You look away afterward, feeling embarrassed. But Seonghwa's face follows the direction of your eyes, forcing you to only look at him.

"And why do you want me, when you're still angry? I thought we're still fighting, tho."

"I said forget about our fight, or do you want me to be angry every day?"

"Oh, behave, love." Seonghwa chuckles. "Behave when you need someone to serve you down there."

Seonghwa's hand slowly travels to your thigh. That's easy for him to do since you're only wearing his oversized white shirt and panties. His hand gives a gentle stroke while keeping his eyes on your expression. Smirks when you're trying so hard to cool with it while your chest breathes heavily, all tense up because of his touch. "Cockhungry slut."

Your arousal gushes out, you can feel it. It's the way he calls you slut, while he takes care of you like you're such a little princess. Delicate. Arousing. How can he manage to be like that? Acting so fucking sweet while his pretty lips keep talking dirty.

Your breath hitches as Seonghwa's forefinger rubs the wet patch of your panties, moving it to the side and touching your clit softly. "Aren't you still angry? You usually get rid of my hand immediately when you're angry. So it's true I look too good tonight to handle?"

"Seonghwa, you will make me angry even more if you keep teasing me like this."

"Oh, so you'll be angrier if i don't satisfy you?"

You smack Seonghwa lightly on the chest, feeling humiliated by the way he spoke. But eyes don't lie. Your eyes show how much you want to be touched by Seonghwa.

"Stop teasing me, Seonghwa..." You reply softly. Your cheeks flushed like sunset, and it's like a little show for him, Seonghwa enjoys this.

"And why do I have to?"

You moan, automatically spreading your legs to give Seonghwa's fingers more access to play with your pulsating clit. He smiles triumphantly, mixed with his mischievous expression. And with such a quick movement, he lands one slap on your clit, earning a jolt and more arousal from your aching cunt.

"You like that?"

You bite your lip, nodding aggressively with your eyes squeezed shut. Unable to form words now, your brain is already clouded, and your thighs are shaking as Seonghwa gives you another slap on the clit, even harder and it stings yet you feel the pleasure as your heart is racing like a thousand fireworks explode inside your chest.

Seonghwa doesn't reply to your words, focusing on the expression on your face that is formed because of pleasure, because he's making you feel good. He's busy carving your beautiful face in his memory because he swears, tonight you also look perfect in his eyes. His two fingers slowly enter your cunt, dragging out and then back in gently. You sigh at the stretch out Seonghwa's two fingers give you, he's well experienced at this one. He rotates his fingers inside you, forming a come-hither motion then his thumb rubs circles on your abused clit which makes you arch your back and moan Seonghwa's name.

"Seonghwa, please, don't stop!" you whine, your hands moving instinctively to your torso, squeezing your own breasts and giving soft strokes on your nipples. Seonghwa moves closer to you and plants a peck on your lips.

"Aren't you still angry, love? So now you already forgave me because I can make you feel good?"

Oh, god.

He is indeed, such a tease.

nb : i'm taking requests now so feel free to drop your req on my inbox <3

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hwaightme · 4 months

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Impressionism

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🩸 pairing: vampire!gallerist/collector!seonghwa x art historian!gn!reader 🩸 genre: fluff, noir, soulmates, supernatural, strangers(?) to lovers, art nerding 🩸 summary: a post-graduate student specialising in impressionism, you were a regular visitor to the many art galleries in the city. who knew that among the paintings you would encounter your favourite, timeless work of art? 🩸 wordcount: 12.3k 🩸 warnings/tags: questionable editing, mention of blood, fangs, wounds, suggestive, many pet names (love, darling etc), art theory/history ponderings, time skips, mention of rituals, philosophy, hwa is centuries-old, yearning hwa 🩸 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 🩸 a/n: happy birthday to @starrysvn!! lheo, ilysm, and i hope you enjoy this little rambling <3 hugs to everyone, all reblogs, notes and comments appreciated! 🩸 playlist: nfwmb - hozier, who is she? - i monster, keep on loving you - cas, la vie en rose - edith piaf, a l'ombre de nous - pierre barouh, les feuilles mortes / sous le ciel de paris - yves montand, moon over bourbon street / until - sting

‘Love and Pain’ - an enigmatic masterpiece that was painted by Edvard Munch, the famous Norwegian artist, in 1895. In vibrant oil paints a dramatic scene interpreted by millions as something more sensual, darker, revealing was immortalised. Perhaps quite literally. You leaned back on one hand, feeling the coolness of the bench located in the middle of the gallery hall, careful to not let the notebook in your hands slip from your lap. ‘Vampire’ - first, it was a label for the woman with the alluring, long red locks that was leaning over her supposed lover, then it turned into a second name for the work. It was comical how Munch himself had initially stated the piece depicted nothing more than a woman kissing the neck of a man, and yet, the tale had told itself. What followed were six versions of this same subject, with a woodcut titled “Vampyr II”, followed by paintings titled ‘Vampire’ and ‘Vampire in the Forest’, and then through common acceptance that this indeed was the ‘submission of a man to the bite of a vampire’, if you were to paraphrase a critic who had been in an astoundingly similar position as you, except without the decades upon decades of other material to refer to. They had been the firstcomers, the initial perceivers to set the tone for society’s consumption of the artwork, the louder of the many voices in the artwork who often had the final say. In some senses, they were your long lost colleagues - they were there to create history, and you were there to study it.

While it was not exactly a part of the movement you had decided to specialise in, you nonetheless would never reject the opportunity to learn more about the stunning world of visual arts, trying to guess how the artist had felt in the moment, what did they see beyond what they presented to the world, how did they translate the heart into brushstrokes. You were taken by all forms of art since you were little - having grown up surrounded by items that were far removed from what you called your air, you were intrigued by anything that was external to your version of ordinary. In your case, it just so happened to be the little private gallery that you had spent almost all of your monthly allowance to visit when you were a school kid - you had been so dedicated, in fact, that the elderly guard who had often also acted as a guide to the visitors had become your first friend in the art world, something of a grandparent figure, and on multiple occasions - when the lack of eyes would allow, simply let you through with a grin and glance out of the entrance doors.

And so here you were, many years later, many hard decisions and conversations behind you, regarding artworks with an unprecedented soulful closeness that you had initially thought was unattainable. Had you believed all those who remained outside of the walls of your personal paradise, you would have been immersed in the same cycle that had been drilled into the majority of your family members, except maybe a handful who you had never met for the exact reason that they had chosen something for themselves. But you regarded your dream as the thorned path - undoubtedly more challenging, not immediately fruitful, but in the long run leading to the heaven of your design. What more could you ask for?

It was enjoyable to be alone with the paintings surrounding you, portals to new realms that any visitor could have the pleasure of exploring. And what was even more inspiring, was that in the eye of every beholder was a different universe, and no matter who one would speak to, their version of the painting would be different, even if just slightly. You huffed, amused. When was the last time you had visited a gallery with anyone else? You could not quite recall - it was likely that you had never seeked company from another because you were more than satisfied with the company of the legendary works that were regarding you from the many walls. It was possible to compose oneself, spend limitless time on every piece, study the details, and drift into one’s own musings when there was no one to ground them. This was when you dared to say you got your best work done. Even though you, of course, conducted research within university and ventured out to galleries, museums, collectors or auctions only within professional bounds, the bulk of the thinking process was carried out in times such as this. When it was just you, your notebook and pen, and a new point of focus. However, this time, you could not say you were fully attentive to the painting that you had decided to focus on, as a certain someone was appearing to share your level of interest in ‘Love and Pain’ too.

A gentleman who could not be much older or younger than you, at most a couple of years, stood off to the right of the bench, unmoving, gaze fixated on the painting. Dressed in a pinstripe navy suit, light blue dress shirt, lacquered dress shoes and a matching navy tie, he was nothing short of being a moving work of art. Hints of a glimmer from his thin framed, elegant silver spectacles gave the man a scholarly aura, while the slicked back dark hair - evidently a lot longer than the styling would suggest, added notes of business, entrepreneurship, perhaps leadership. Nothing was out of place, not a crease, not an exposed thread in sight. Needless to say, your curiosity had been sparked.

Much like you found joy in exploring creations in the realm of the visual arts, you were fond of crafting stories about the people who were strangers in passing. You could not help it; perhaps this affinity for creative internal ramblings had come as a package with studying the degree you had selected, or perhaps this was a naturally occurring guilty pleasure that you simply had not had the chance to entertain before you cut yourself off from expectations and predetermined patterns of thought. But now, you had the full pleasure of wondering, letting your mind travel to lands far away as you took the real life masterpiece in, and pondered why the man could be here, what he could be thinking as he studied Munch’s work, and what resonated with him, and only him.

There was a melancholia with the weight of centuries resting upon his shoulders, that much you could decipher in the stranger’s stance. Even then, there was a gentle burning flame within his heart judging by just how dedicated he was to inspecting the artwork. Like he was seeing an old friend for the first time in years, and was attempting to memorise them anew and recognise each change, bit by bit. You suppressed a chuckle, entertaining the possibility of this man finding a kinship with the painting, but chose to set the idea aside for the time being, instead focusing on sketching his emotional landscape. Was the stranger remorseful? Lonely? Perplexed? You could not quite pinpoint the answer, at least not before you noticed the man’s head starting to turn, and soon enough, his eyes were peering into your own.

They were two pools of deep chocolate, an all-consuming shade that, due to the ever so slightly dimmer lights than in the general halls of the gallery, appeared to be approaching a captivating onyx. The gaze that originated from behind the glasses, and glided across the room that was suddenly too small for two struck you, and you could feel heat starting to rise on your face, blush threatening to reveal the effect of the man’s spontaneous act of confidence. Lowering your head, you gave the stranger a sheepish grin, and pretended to make a random note, pen erratically scribbling over a filled page. He continued to regard you with that same unwavering expression, and only when you looked up again did he seem to catch himself and give you a closed-mouth smile, equally as bashful as yours, and crossed his arms. One step, another, and he was right by the painting, though careful to not obstruct your view - instead, he took his time to read the brief paragraph on the information plaque that had been stuck to the wall off to the side of ‘Love and Pain’. With the same familiarity that is common among those grieving, or in a state of existential sorrow. A bittersweetness prevailed in his aura, one that reminded you of autumn - the falling leaves in red and gold, twirling to join a magnificent carpet, but nonetheless, making a departure, albeit a nearly unnoticeable one. Had he seen many fallen leaves? Was he himself approaching the season? You gasped, but even though the sound was barely audible, you caught the stranger making a minuscule turn in response.

His footsteps were louder than your thoughts, his departure an irrevocably impactful act that left you breathless. You did not know him, and yet you felt as though you had gotten a glimpse at multiple lifetimes, and were part of a moment that was greater than yourself. In the wordless exchange, question after question had found its root, and something told you that you should not dare attempt to craft him a backstory, and choosing to believe in anything but what would be declared by him would be a gross misinterpretation, much like one that was carried out by those who did not wish to reflect on art and look beyond a first impression. For the first time since you had made your initial discovery of the arts, you felt like you were not alone in the gallery, the other visitor’s presence remained so intense that he could be sat right next to you, scrutinising the same painting, entertaining the same thought. Was the woman with the bright tresses indeed what she had been declared to be over the many years she had been introduced to many venues, many variations of public, and finally finding a home on this wall? Did she settle with her lover, or perhaps a carefully selected victim? Would the man have an answer?

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ . It was unlike you to retrace your steps a mere few days after a visit and return to the same gallery, amble down the same halls, and seek for a new source of investigative inspiration among the same selection. This obviously did not mean that you would never return, definitely not, that would be almost criminal of you to possess such intentions, but you tended to try to cleanse your palate with alternative movements, contemporary takes and avant garde interpretations between searches which were more directly related to your studies. And yet, for the first time in a while, nothing was stopping you from your return. It felt only natural, and so right. Moreover, you felt no unease when you headed straight towards the section that housed the impressionists. An individual with an unspoken, mysterious mission, you were on the hunt for the creative streak, something that would help you ponder the next section of your hefty dissertation, and you could sense that it had to be somewhere here. And, like always, you were right.

‘Bazille’s Studio’, one of the most famous works painted by the so-called ‘tragic artist’ of the impressionists, Frédéric Bazille in 1870. In fact, it had been a collaboration between him and Édouard Manet, another gifted artist, though more renowned as a figure leading modernism, and depicted a scene of discussion and creative collaboration in the studio that Bazille had shared for a certain period of time with other spectacular figures of the visual arts, Claude Monet, Pierre-Auguste Renoir, who could also be found in this painting. On the walls were works rejected by the Salon, which at the time had been the one of the most influential, famous art exhibitions in the Western World, administered by the Académie des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Interestingly, above the piano on the right hung a painting which Bazille had purchased from Monet, potentially hinting at the material ties between them, and the importance the young artist had because of his familial wealth. In a sense, Bazille expressed his support, as well as showed an intimate, platonic scene of the art world where there was a moment of calm, of mutual appreciation, despite the financial troubles and tensions due to character that had been experienced in those walls.

You stepped closer to the painting, trying to detect the transition from Bazille’s to Manet’s hand, the latter of whom painted in the former to take ‘centre stage’, palette in hand. Truly seamless work, though what else could it be? This painting had been a new addition to the permanent collection, and after strenuous, detailed restoration work to give the oil paints their original vibrancy and for impeccable strokes to forget the burden of time, you had the pleasure of seeing it in person. You were an arm’s length away from yet another work essential to history, culture and the arts as a societal colossus.

While it was easy enough to appreciate the technical detail, you found yourself halting to remember the names of all those depicted in the painting, failing to finalise the list in your head. Starting from Bazille, you had determined for yourself the presence of Monet and Manet in his vicinity quickly enough, however where Renoir was, or what were the names of the two other gentlemen in the scene, slipped your mind. You rocked to the side to lean closer to the plaque that was meant to provide you with the information, however you only found the name of the painting, the artist and the medium, much to your misfortune. Clicking your tongue, you returned to studying the faces of each individual, and furrowed your brows in agitated concentration. It was simple to take out your phone and search for the answer, though you knew that just as neutral that action would be, so would be your reaction unless you were to remember, or somebody were to-

A presence to your side caught you off-guard, and you felt a shiver run up your spine. One glance was enough to determine that it was the same man from yesterday, only the outfit revealing a change. Other than that, he had the same impeccable posture and stance, as well as a thoughtful look towards the painting in front of you both. His arms were crossed, though not in a defensive manner; instead they offered an interpretation of philosophy, as though this man was carrying centuries of wisdom with him, history having pummelled down on him and yet needing to support it like Atlas; the titan carrying the world.

Today, he was dressed in a mahogany coloured suit, with a white top underneath and some black boots with thick white rubber soles - quite the transition from last time, when he had been a manifestation of a sleek and pristine office gentleman. Hair, now let down and wavy, neatly framed his face, accentuating the regalness of his features. It was astounding how you were still sure that it would be more likely to find a man of this fashion in a painting, rather than standing beside you. You kept quiet, not wanting to interfere with his musings. Perhaps it was just a silly coincidence that the two of you were at the same place and at the same time again - how else? You did not know him, and you hoped that he did not know you. Though, you truly did not mind his company, and maybe it could serve as your motivation to figure out the rest of the characters in the painting. Once again, your attention returned to the task at hand, but before you could even begin to list off prominent figures of the art world during the era of Impressionism, a deep, honey-like whisper halted you and made you hold your breath.

“Auguste Renoir is the one seated, Emile Zola, the writer, is on the stairs, Monet, Manet and Bazille are, as you likely know in the centre, and that,” he paused to raise his hand, gesturing in the general direction of the far right of the piece, “is Edmond Maitre. Pianist, art collector, and Bazille’s closest friend.”

“I- uh- thank you. How did you know I was trying to recall? Pardon me, I must look so clueless-” you trailed off, eyes finding the floor, an action which seemed to be your automatic response to being under inspection of the man, though this time, he captured your gaze quickly by stepping closer towards you. Looking up, you found concern and apology in his eyes.

“No! Not at all, I… sorry if I misunderstood and I am sorry for forcing you into such erroneous conclusions,” he gave you an ever so slightly crooked smile, charming, very disarming and so suiting this beautiful stranger, that you were instantly prompted by your instincts to return it, dismissing doubt.

“You saved me,” you joked, though the phrase contained within itself an unlikely compassion. Two people, alone in the same gallery, sharing a precious dialogue was something to cherish, and with all your might you wanted to make it last.

“Just as you made me regard the painting in a new light, for which I thank you, greatly,” he bowed his head, the smile not leaving his face for a moment. There was a recognition in his gaze, as well as an inexplicable admiration. What did he discover?

“I guess it might be true that no matter how many times you see a painting, every viewing brings something new,”

“Well said. Are you an artist? A critic, perhaps?” He inquired, moving closer to stand level with you, head turned slightly in your direction to spare the occasional glance. You shook your head slowly, wondering if in a retelling of your destiny you could have pursued either of the careers he had mentioned.

“I am in the arts, though rather than looking at the present I remain in the past. Art historian, well, a postgraduate. Nothing too fancy.”

“Oh? But that is marvellous, and what are you focusing on?”

“I like to call it the painting in plenair during the turn of the century. I focus mainly on impressionism, though do sometimes stray into its interplay with post-impressionism, modernism and expressionism.”

“Ah, no wonder I have been seeing you here often. Enjoying the new collection?” he asked, eager to hear your opinion. There was excitement in his voice as though you were a renowned expert and were about to bestow upon him a priceless evaluation. And this was without considering the technicality of you having only half-met. Just crossing paths twice in one week.

"Yes, of course… The collection is unlike any other I have seen. I keep wanting to return and stay here for ages." You explained, glancing at the stranger while he nodded along.

"Incredibly happy to hear it. I swear I have seen you around quite often during the past month that the exhibition has been open? Am I correct?" evidently, your rapid blinking was interpreted rather quickly as perplexion, for the man gasped ever so lightly, as if to catch his own speeding thoughts.

“I- how do you know? I do believe this is our… second time meeting?” you uttered, one eyebrow raised in suspicion, which, to your disbelief, revealed something akin to fear in the beautiful stranger’s features. Nervously, he adjusted a strand of hair that was threatening to cover his right eye.

“Not quite… you were present at the opening event, right?” he quizzed.

“Indeed, my depar- wait. But how? Respectfully, I am starting to think you know me.” you enunciated with newfound caution, while the man pursed his lips. One second, another passed in near total silence, until a chuckle escaped him and he shook his head. It appeared as though he was mentally scolding himself - his eyes held no malice, instead glinting with hope, that melancholic wisdom, and something unidentifiable, ethereal, supernatural.

“I think it is high time I introduce myself before this gets out of hand. See, in some sense I work here, and most of my days are spent in the gallery or labouring for it-”

“Ah, I see-”

“Park Seonghwa, a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” with one arm folded behind his back and the other on his chest, he bowed to you like how you imagined princes in the numerous portraits you had studied would bow. And the most enthralling part was how the gesture flowed, and was so befitting. Quickly, you bowed in return, but while raising your head, you froze. It hit you why he would know. And know a lot. And would remember you, and likely anyone and everyone who visited. In a low whisper, you asked:

“Am I… correct in assuming that you are ‘the’ Park Seonghwa?” quickly enough, you realised that it was a mistake to find his eyes again - clearly, you were not ready for the intensity, nor for the intrigue that was contained within them, nor for the fact that he moved another step closer to you, the rubber of his boots dampening any sound produced.

“I never knew that there was a ‘the’ attached to my name. I simply love art.”

“Well that love translated into the creation of what is possibly the greatest gallery in the nation, if not worldwide,”

“Oh you flatter me too much, ah, your name-”

“L/N Y/N, and I, too, love art.”

“Elated to hear it,” he gleamed, and you swore the room exploded with the illumination of a thousand stars.

Stunning, awe-inspiring, ever so elegant. He was a walking dream. In that smile was concealed a certain something that had been taboo, a well-kept secret until a couple of decades ago, when those like Seonghwa had started to be fully integrated into society, and no longer had to hide, changing identity from one century to another. With that came Seonghwa’s success - you had read in an article that advertised the permanent exhibition a short blurb of his story, and how for many turbulent decades, the man single-handedly collected masterpieces, crafted a meticulous network and introduced genius artists to the world, and the world to the artists. The gallery was a magnum opus for Seonghwa - a presentation of what he had achieved as a collector, as a patron of the arts, and a celebration of his personal culture.

You could not help but hone in on the fangs, and recall the original reason why it was even possible for Seonghwa to obtain such legendary works and have as much influence as he presently did. It was not spontaneous; submerged in turmoil, he had personally approached artists who, previously abandoned by critics and other prospective buyers, had never considered a future beyond a mysterious tomorrow. Hiding his own true nature, he crafted the tale of a ‘Park’ dynasty, and rose again and again to continue his work. Perhaps, now, some might argue that once he had revealed himself as a vampire the velocity of Seonghwa’s developments had fallen, but you would passionately argue the opposite. It was challenging to believe that any move by this stunning artistic mastermind was not strategic - the announcement had given the gallery more partnerships, more donations, and in turn, an even greater prominence in the community both among professionals and enjoyers.

“Thank you,” the phrase spilled from your lips inadvertently. It seemed to be the only thing that was reasonable to say in that given moment. You pondered the pains that must have been suffered to make the world that you were consumed by come together, and the painting in front of you, aside from what was contained within the frame,now shined in a new light externally too, possessing its own story, resembling a search for a kindred spirit, a true home.

Seonghwa remained quiet, the words of gratitude echoing in his heart. It was endearing, encouraging to hear such warmth from you. So, you did know him, at least the parts he had shown to the public - as was expected from someone so deeply ingrained in visual arts and history, but he could not help but identify it as something much greater than mere awareness. The openness with which you had welcomed conversation with him, the kind charm that radiated from you as you engaged in the careful verbal waltz reminded the vampire of times long, long ago when all that existed for him was drive, enamourment and art. Oh, how your eyes glimmered. His heart clenched into near unbearable agony as he read your expressions, and wondered how much you have seen, what have you yet to see, who you were in this temporary life. If only he could ask fate to tell him how much you remembered of who you had been before.

“No, thank you, for giving this,” he gestured to the gallery around him, graceful hand unfurling as though revealing a delicate flower, “meaning, and reason to exist.”

“I highly doubt I am of much significance, Mister Park,” you responded, a soft smile on your face.

“Would anything hold the same meaning if there was no one to behold it?” he responded. You chose not to answer, catching onto the rhetoricism, “and please, call me Seonghwa. I’d like to say we are to be good friends.”

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Sitting across from Seonghwa in the cafe that was located on the top floor, above the main halls of the gallery made you feel strangely serene. Today he had foregone the straighter hair styles that you had begun to get used to, surprising you with a head of tousled, almost curled locks that embodied the world’s softness, though remained to be quite the contrast to the more formal and highly fashionable attire that adorned his stature. A suit, tastefully oversized with a buttoned double breasted jacket that was simultaneously serving as a shirt, the plunging v-shaped neckline revealing perfectly smooth skin, and what you noted to be a solitary freckle right in the centre of his collarbone. The trousers, at least from the glimpse that you had allowed yourself when you had met at the entrance to the cafe were of a loose fit, defining his waist at the top and falling to form an almost skirt-like silhouette should he stand how he usually stood: the echoes of what would be called the ‘third position’ in ballet, more relaxed, but still retaining an elegance that only he could carry. The biggest shock to you, however, was Seonghwa’s choice of shoes - a refreshing point to the visual, he had selected to contrast the formalwear with a pair of limited edition, geometrically intriguing Converses. You could catch a glimpse of one of them from over the edge of the table whenever his slightly shaking leg, positioned over the other, would rock forwards just that tiny bit stronger.

While the setting was meant to be casual, the circumstances in which you found yourself were nothing short of miraculous. Never in a million years would you have imagined for it to be possible to be sat across the table from, quite possibly, one of the most legendary contributors to art restoration, collection and exhibition. On top of that, Seonghwa was a figure who actively bridged the gap between disparate communities, finding a common language, and using the arts as a salvation. You were in awe, and could not hold back on regarding the handsome vampire as he quietly reported your and his orders to the waiter who had floated to your table.

“Are you sure you do not want anything else?”

“Yes, I am sure. I do not wish to exploit your kindness-”

“-Not at all. I hope you do not mind that I… must make a rather unconventional order,” he smiled sheepishly, clearing his throat so as to attempt to hide his doubts, though you were uncertain as to how much of such emotions could possibly be left after what had to have been centuries.

“An unconventional order is pouring a sugary energy drink into a triple shot espresso and calling it dinner,” you answered, eyes travelling from Seonghwa’s face to the mural on the wall a few tables away that wrapped behind him and to your left, disrupted only by the occasional floor length window that provided city vistas - rather gloomy, compared to the optimistic illumination of the restaurant. Perhaps out of pity, or out of genuine entertainment, Seonghwa chuckled.

“That does sound like an acquired taste, indeed. Thank you,”

“No need. Thank you for inviting me,” you turned back, nodding a polite bow as he softly waved your gesture off.

A silence settled across the table as you waited for your respective drinks. Your hand, had you not consciously restrained yourself, would have probably reached for the phone that you stored in your purse, but now was fiddling with the sleeve of your shirt, finding the buttons to stress test the threads that had them sewn tight to the fabric. You were not bored, in fact, far from it. You needed a barrier. The grandeur of this man’s presence was almost overwhelming. He was not a mere individual in a room, he consumed it. Had you just walked in, you were certain that your gaze would still settle on his form. Just like the concrete outside was grey, and the pause retained a divine ambiguity, Seonghwa was unforgettable. In an attempt to calm your clouded thoughts, you studied the mural once more.

“May I inquire into your thoughts on the decor?”

“The choice of ‘A Sunday on La Grande Jatte’ is wise. I am guessing you were the one to make the decision?” you heard an exhale, and once more your attention was captured.

“Alas, I cannot take full accolades for this. This stemmed from a discussion that a good friend of mine and I had one late night. Seurat just so happened to make an appearance amidst the chatter, and so… this was born,” he gestured at the surroundings. Clearly, the interior was picked carefully to fit the theme of the legendary painting.

From the colours to the textures and the greenery that had been intricately set up across the restaurant, every detail had a meaning and a place, and did not take away from the spaciousness of the hall. It was breathable, while still giving the illusion that you were stepping into a whimsical impressionist paradise. Perhaps that was another reason why you could not quite contain your disbelief firstly in your encounter, secondly in its progression, and thirdly in your interlocutor’s warmth.

“Spectacular, truly. I have heard you have an eye for detail, however this surpasses all expectations.”

“Oh? There is more you have heard?” he interjected, leaning closer to you and placing an elbow on the table, simply to rest his head on his hand. While this could potentially be seen as slightly unceremonious, it hinted at well-kept confidence, ownership, control. A healthy undercurrent of motivation that came with indirect praise.

“I-oh y-yeah of course,” you did not mean to stutter, but some part of you was grateful you did, for the smirk that had threatened to burst on Seonghwa’s lips was enough for you to feel ignited to elaborate, “if my memory is not failing me, you were the one to distinguish a reproduction of a piece some time ago, no?”

“Ah- yes. That was a Degas reproduction. I must say, the attempt was sincere, however when I saw the-, hm, you will not be startled, will you?”

“Please,” you urged him to continue, intrigued by the story.

“When I saw the original, as it was being made and when it had been finalised, it would be shameful of me to not spot a fake,” he fell back into his chair, just in time for the drinks to be served.

A coffee for you, and a non-descript beverage concealed by a semi-opaque, tall glass for him. Though, you did not need to be a detective to guess what it was that Seonghwa was bringing to his lips, and what he took a tentative sip of. The only mystery that was remaining for you was what ‘type’ he had picked - was it O+? B-? Whatever else? You joined him in the tasting, lifting the mug and indulging in the wonderful aroma of your americano. It did not strike you as necessary to opt for something fancier and lie to yourself - so you settled for your regular order, much to your joy. Familiar taste and the reliability of the caffeine hitting your system painted the scene in more comforting colours, and gradually, you found yourself easing into the dialogue more and more, until life stories, musings and a surprisingly large common ground came pouring.

You discovered that Seonghwa possessed a unique sensitivity and attunement to those around him. Focused on the emotional experiences, he felt through time and could recount emotions like the memory was from a mere few days, rather than decades ago. He was well-spoken, eloquent, intelligent, polite in every right as he navigated through the linguistic landscape and guided you like a partner in a dance. You were spiralling oh so quickly, intrigue catching up to you and prompting you to sacrifice all of your senses to the man and the pleasantly intoxicating atmosphere he captured you in. He was enchanting, and it was far too easy to give in.

“May I reveal something?” in a hushed tone, he inquired, a finger absent-mindedly tracing the rim of his glass.

“Oh, a little secret?” you raised your eyebrows in jest, lightening the initial seriousness with which Seonghwa uttered the question.

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Depends on how you take it. A confession might be more accurate,” he waited for you to take the final sip of your coffee before continuing, unphased by your unwavering focus, “if I were to be honest, I have been meaning to approach you.”

“Pardon?”

“As you know we have a… common awareness of each other thanks to what is housed under this roof, but ever since we first unknowingly crossed paths… I wanted to speak to you.”

Confused, you did not speak, though the words contained an unparalleled affection within them. What could he possibly mean? You chose to refrain from commenting, your hesitation prompting the vampire to continue.

“Do you remember the most recent opening night? Of the exhibition? I believe you were with someone…” he trailed off, hoping you would continue for him.

“Ah, yes, a friend of mine from university. So?”

“This might sound strange but, I distinctly remember you mentioning a name. An artist from the same era, dubbed as L/N Y/N?”

“Goodness, you overheard that? I am so sorry, it is just that said artist has intrigued me for some time, and I was half-hoping to encounter their work. Maybe it is because our names are the same but still….”

“Elusive, aren’t they?”

“To put it softly, yes. I only vaguely recall seeing… maybe one piece in my lifetime, when I was little, and then… nothing. And there is barely any information on the artist online, let alone libraries and archives.”

“Hm, indeed. I guess that makes two of us…”

“Two of us who are searching?”

“That’s right. It brought me happiness to know that I am not alone in this endeavour.”

“Then we can keep searching together.”

While you were positive that you could not conceal your interest, Seonghwa’s did not go unnoticed either. It was of course possible that he was simply well-versed in political correctness, but the burning depth of his pupils told you otherwise. Enthrallment, the discovery of a kindred spirit, recognition, the rekindling of a bond that had existed at some point long ago - all fantasies that played out in your mind as you returned that look with subtle fervour. You wondered how many people he graced with those charms. How many had succumbed to his influence, becoming a marker on his infinite life path, a fleeting second? How many had his lips known, how many had turned into a decadent treat for a genius man with natural peculiarities? While the researcher part of you was perplexed and aching for answers, the you that was caught in the moment simply let it go on, and the feeling of Seonghwa’s leg brushing against yours, and the pride blooming in your chest as he praised the few articles and papers you had published upon having claimed that he ‘knew some things about you too’ preoccupied you in the most magnificent way.

Naturally, you agreed to meet Seonghwa again. On your journey home, in the privacy of the anonymous metro, immersed in the cacophony of deafening rails and the millions travelling to anywhere, you pressed your phone to your racing heart as the vampire, the man, the beguiling Park Seonghwa sent you a message confirming so. Who knew a simple selection of words could be so captivating?

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Under the comforting thrum of raindrops on the large umbrella, you walked down the streets of the grey-coloured city, your hand lightly holding onto Seonghwa’s arm while he ensured that both of you were protected from the elements. Despite the dull light and bitterness of the cooling season, Seonghwa appeared radiant, truly timeless with every gesture and stride. The elegant angles of his face that you could tirelessly study stood out against the monotone buildings and overcast skies. His voice drowned out the sound of droplets racing one another to the ground. A miraculous gentleman who appeared in your life much like a portrait, or a landscape - a masterpiece you wanted to explore in every spare moment, and better yet, this masterpiece was equally as open to you as you were to him.

“...essentially, yes. It is like another nationality. A marker of species isn’t too far isn’t it? Just another line on a stack of documents. Nothing more,” Seonghwa concluded his explanation, pursing his lips for a moment before letting an exhale turned dragon’s breath escape into the afternoon.

“Makes sense. So would that mean there are separate medical papers and treatment too?”

“Well… when regeneration fails us or when a given case is severe enough… yes. Though it is handled by private clinics run by other vampires.”

“There are private clinics?”

“Of course. Often they are connected to donation points too, and that is how we remain on the right side of the law and stay alive,” he nodded to himself, giving you a bittersweet smile when he noticed confusion overtake your gaze. “Blood,” he stated as-a-matter-of-factly, “I mean blood.”

In a nervous stupor, you cleared your throat and focused on a droplet that was hanging onto the edge of the umbrella, right in front of you, all the way until the gentle motion of Seonghwa’s amble provoked its abrupt descent onto the stone under your feet.

“Ah, yes, I see-”

“If you find this disturbing, we can forget the conversation ever-”

“-I want to know you better, Seonghwa, truly-”

“Careful-”

“Sorry wha-”

With an extraordinary swiftness, you were tugged abruptly by the arm. Not registering your surroundings, you merely went with the inertia, caught off-guard by the proximity of your face to the vampire’s as he held you against him with the arm that you had previously been resting your own on. A hand that you raised on instinct went limp and landed on Seonghwa’s chest, feeling the thick felted wool of his coat. The ringing of a bell, going farther away from you by the second, incessant but at least waking you up from the blur, was enough for you to put two and two together - a cyclist who thought they owned every part of the street, like always. You sighed.

“Reckless… my apologies I did not mean to-” Seonghwa tried to detangle himself, refusing to remain in your personal space for longer than necessary no matter how much he did want to, but his efforts were reduced to nothing when your hand moved to a hold on his upper arm - reassuring, comfortable, accepting.

“Thank you,” you interrupted, “that bike would have definitely run into me…”

“It’s nothing,” a low chuckle echoed in your ears as Seonghwa peered into your pupils, confidence that had previously wavered out of habitual caution now restored, growing into a pride as you continued to hold onto him, “the man was slow enough for there to be no risk of harm. I hope you are not too startled though.”

“Oh? You have super powers too? Do elaborate,” you jested, resuming your walk.

“I would call it more like… being a finely tuned machine. Can’t say I have bad reaction speed. Though I must say, it was a little challenging pulling you out of the way,” there was an evident intent behind the words. However, you were too curious to pay it any mind, instead preferring to find out their meaning live.

“How so?”

“I think this,” dropping his arm, Seonghwa’s hand reached for yours, and without a moment of hesitation, his fingers were intertwining with yours, his palm pressed against yours, “would be better. You know, for safety.” As if you could ever reject him. This was a fact you had established for yourself with an unprecedented certainty. His gallant disposition, attentiveness all confirmed a care for you that was impossible to ignore.

There was something picturesque about the present after meeting this wonderful, infinite pool of art and humanity. You found yourself leafing through articles, art books and biographies with a more wistful and sentimental perspective, imagining what it would be like if it were you who was immortalised in the thousands of brushstrokes, or if you were on the other side of the canvas, how would you go about depicting the scenes unfolding before your very eyes. Timelessness - a quality shared between the art you so adored, and the man you had encountered and over the weeks, let your intrigue be transformed into a shy flame of infatuation. Perhaps it was the underlying reason why you did not reject his advances, nor cower in fear of his true nature with which he was upfront. The other, of course, was the search for the mysterious artist, an adventure that fuelled many of your dialogues, and prompted you to spend more time in the library and the archives of your university than you had ever done before - to the point where Seonghwa himself had encouraged you to take a break from your intellectual expeditions and step into the world as a casual observer. So, you let yourself drift; it finally hit you, what scenes your once again tranquil stroll reminded you of, and you smiled to yourself as you recalled the intricacies of the not quite commonly discussed representation of the Impressionist movement.

‘Rue de Paris, temps de pluie’, painted by Gustave Caillebotte; his most famous work. Not quite as widely discussed, despite still technically being created in the Impressionist era, perhaps due to the meandering through form, realism and reliance on stronger lines rather than broad brushstrokes and the study of light. You did find it fascinating how Caillebotte’s passion for photography had seeped into this piece, however. Much like how, in recent days, you could easily find a way to mention Seonghwa in conversation, be it related to the arts or not. From the subjects in the foreground being slightly out of focus while the middle ground was crystal clear, to how the shapes of some passersby were cropped were all characteristic of photos, rather than paintings, making this particular work all the more dear to you. It was a reflection of life, of behaviour and of what had been daily back in the late nineteenth century.

Was it any different from now, aside from those grand, global topics that historians dedicated their lives to studying? If one were to whittle down to the intricacies, the miniatures that ornamented the span of a human existence, was it so terribly far away from what you were born into, and Seonghwa saw develop and had adopted? How people shielded themselves from the rain with umbrellas, and then used them as a tool to isolate themselves from other urbanites who were in a rush to take a day-long route out of their homes… and back again. The latest silhouettes of dress and accessory; the same rush to be with the times as now.

You felt your companion’s arm move, prompting you to let go and leave your hand hovering as though you were awaiting some kind of change. You bit back an unprecedented sliver of disappointment, only to be caught by surprise once again as you felt the hand settle on the small of your back. Cautious, like you were going to melt from any more pressure than the brush of a feather. A quick glance was enough to determine that you were being studied intently for any sign of discomfort - Seonghwa was ready to pull away at any moment, any sigh, and most definitely at any word. A meek smile settled on your lips, and you shyly used an oncoming stranger as an opportunity to affirm the gesture, stepping towards the vampire, and sensing the confidence of his protective measure be solidified. With glee he followed your every tilt and turn, angling away from the passing form that neither of you could focus on. The touch was electric, somehow monumental despite being so common and barely present. Your mind was on fire, pondering what it would be like to put your head on the elegant man’s shoulder, and let yourself be carried away into a terrific fairy tale.

“This really is a rainy day,”

“Seems quite sunny to me,” you respond with sarcasm, realising only after the fact that your phrase still did retain an element of truth within it.

Sunshine did not have to be literal. It was easy to see, you just needed to return Seonghwa’s gaze, and watch as another spring flower blossomed in the soul of one you had initially assumed to be so cold, so distant. In the darkest winter was a safe haven that you could not help but lean into, and regardless of what you had initially thought, with him, you felt more human, more safe and alive than ever. He listened without fail to your ramblings, and could easily pick up the ball and balance it with his own musings that you could listen to for many lifetimes.

Lifetimes; immortality, the one concept you couldn’t quite wrap your head around. Well, the latter was technically not true, as Seonghwa had elaborated some few days ago: vampires did age, albeit at such a slow pace that to the run of the mill human being, it was impossible to notice, and if they did, it would be someone very close, and only over a matter of decades. Maybe it was this exact inability that made you want to stay and learn all there could be about the gallerist - you thought that would make you feel like you have been living forever. His wisdom was beautiful. The kindness with which he treated you, akin to that of how a spouse treats their long-time sweetheart with a mellow and comfortable affection, was not something you asked for nor expected, but something which he introduced himself with through every action, progressively more amiable when you allowed him to advance.

“Mm, no wonder I can’t quite look at you,” he mused out loud, dramatically looking off into the distance. You raised an eyebrow, curious about what was going to come after his theatrical pause, “your brightness is unparalleled,” Seonghwa chuckled, satisfied with your sigh and the way in which you pretended to be annoyed, only to dissolve in a mute giggle. “So, I do suggest we get out of the rain for a moment and stop by that book shop over there, shall we?”

Following his hand, you spotted an antique bookshop a few doors down, marked by an iron sign and ornate shop window decorations that glistened with each hit of the dancing droplets. A warm golden light emanated from the inside, the hue comparable to a summer’s day. An odd feeling of deja vu washed over you, as though you had been in this store before, even though this was quite the distance away from your home, not on any of your usual commutes and in a part of town you barely visited aside from the occasional brisk walk. It had been established over a century ago, sporting a historical plaque and detailing original to the era the date on the sign suggested. Suppressing your internal monologue, you simply nodded, fond of Seonghwa’s excitement as he pushed lightly against your back and walked on ahead. If you were any more of a romantic, you would have assumed that the shop was a representation of his heart, but you couldn’t allow yourself to think that way, at least not when you felt heat rise to your cheeks as he whispered your name, openly planning what you could look for amidst the rare editions together. You and him turned into a ‘we’ so naturally, you barely had time to blink. A new brushstroke on a canvas, brave, bold and bright. Impressionist.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

The hypnotising improvisation on a semi-acoustic guitar, followed by a launch back into the theme of a well-known jazz song had you tapping on the counter, unknowingly following every drum beat. The bar turned cosy music venue that Seonghwa had invited you out to was proving to be every bit a wonder of the world, and paradise inside of the otherwise gloomy city which had been plagued with miserable weather and lack of daylight for atrociously long. The classy establishment was a well known favourite among the vampires residing in the city, especially those aligned with a more bohemian and art-focused lifestyle. Critics, painters, collectors, musicians, poets alike all gathered to share ideas and energy, and reminisce days long gone, while the band - one that had not changed since the bar’s establishment, revived legendary pieces one after another.

With ease, Seonghwa had ordered your favourite drink, having memorised it after your many outings that had smoothly transitioned into dates and shared nights. He remembered every detail about you, holding each one tenderness. Your lover gazed at you as he ended a conversation with a fellow collector who had recently come to town for a few days, stretching out his hand until it just touched yours, guiding it to lie flat on the counter. Seonghwa’s palm, still retaining a pleasant coolness despite him having had a couple of drinks of his own, was another reassurance that in the buzz of the venue, you still had your person by your side. Feeling his digits tap and then proceed to brush the back of your hand, you hummed in contentment, and let your eyes travel over the beautiful vampire, who leaned back, tempting you just for fun, knowing full well that you were wholly his, and even when you turned to look elsewhere, it was his face you saw in the crowd, it was his voice that rang in your ears, it was his touch that ghosted over your skin.

The bustier from Alexander McQueen, the gorgeous flowy shirt with ruffles and cuts so tastefully sewn and executed, the statement necklace that was worthy of being displayed at a gallery and must be the envy of many, the high heeled boots that were concealed by elegant trousers - Seonghwa was your favourite work of art, and you could never deny it. Each one of his gestures was worthy of marvel, and the care with which he approached everything - even the tending to the items which he painstakingly selected and matched for tonight made your heart skip a beat. It was boggling how each garment and accessory was either an original, or a one of a kind piece. But at the same time, you did not expect anything less of Seonghwa.

He must be impossible to depict in paintings, you concluded, shamelessly staring at your lover’s face, from the shape of his nose, to the plushness of his lips, to the waviness of his night-like inky locks. You bet many had tried, but judging by the lacking evidence in the art world, they must have failed, miserably, to create something more immortal and invincible than the model and muse. You understood them, and Seonghwa gave no signs of being perturbed.

“So, was that the intent behind our spontaneous trip to this bar tonight?” you gestured at your surroundings, taking another sip from your ornate glass. A sharp exhale accompanied a contrasting soft answer:

“Not at all,I had the business sorted a couple of days ago, and tonight was a lucky crossing of paths to secure the deal,” cryptic as ever, Seonghwa only alluded to the matter at hand.

The matter, or how he had referred to it as ‘business’ was a particular artwork that he had been hunting, by the elusive artist you had been investigating, first in your lonesome, and then joining forces with Seonghwa. Apparently, one of the pieces, by some stroke of unimaginable luck, had been kept safe in the private collection of a ‘Mister Kim’, at least that was how he had been initially introduced to you. Until you put two and two together, and when the very well dressed and styled character had entered the bar and made a beeline towards your partner in artistic musings and romance, recognised the man as a world-famous designer and fashion icon, Kim Hongjoong. And of course, another vampire and kind soul in one.

Their conversation had happened outside of your earshot; whether it was on purpose or just so happened to unfold that way was for your ruminations to determine, but you did overhear enough to figure out that this was a portrait, a never seen work, and was completed by the artist who as it had turned out had been closer with Seonghwa than you had initially thought.

“Seems to be very important, and not just in a ‘collector’ sense…” you trailed off, watching as the ice in your drink cracked, “is this why you were interested, you know, back then?”

“If I were to be honest, darling, I was, and still am, a lot more interested in you. The artist was something of an excuse to get a conversation going. And I do hope,” Seonghwa turned and sauntered towards you, “this conversation does not end.”

Even though you were sitting on one of the bar stools, the heels and stance still left him some room to look downwards, and his sultry expression, orbs glinting at you through dark lashes left you transfixed. In moments such as this, you hated to be mortal. There were so many things that you could not possibly know, and no matter how hard you would try to comprehend the vastness of the angelic man’s mind, you would always remain theoretical, and accept the grand majority of intricacies as axiom.

“I hope so too,” your voice barely rose above a whisper as his gloved hand landed on your neck, gliding upwards to caress your jawline.

“I’m so glad I found you,” his thoughts were elsewhere, you were sure of it, and yet, his gaze remained unwavering, “my eternal love”. Lips stained with bittersweet worship, the words stumbled from them to strike you repeatedly in the heart, forcing it to lose its rhythm. He was regarding you like he had stumbled upon a priceless treasure, a divinity, a paradise. Something far from you and from this planet, but by Seonghwa’s careful selection, etched in your features.

Were you the embodiment of something greater for him? You would not consider yourself to be a model example of a human being, neither were you a pretty statue to display in an exhibition. You were you, but Seonghwa kept on convincing you that it was exactly this that had captivated him and showed him a new beginning. Did you wish to believe that? Of course. But a vampire who was hundreds of years old could keep a grand variety of secrets beyond your understanding, even if he were to exclaim them right in front of you and sketch them out. His eternal love - your version of eternity, or his? A life the duration of a butterfly’s abstract dance to the heavens.

“Love?” he called out to you, eyebrows knitted in concern due to your prolonged silence. You had set your drink down, and were staring at the shine of the glossy chrome silver and pearl on Seonghwa’s necklace. “Talk to me, say anything.”

“I- hm. I think I am just tired. Yeah, that must be it. Tired so I am overthinking, no worries. I’ll just be right here and-”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you tilted your head, noting how Seonghwa immediately straightened out, and instead of attempting to tower over you stepped over to the side to set a protective hand over yours.

“This is a majority vampire bar, full of unfamiliar individuals, this whole deal with the artwork is up in the air and-”

“First of all, I don’t care. Second, you are here with me. And third, I want to trust in the fact that you would not do anything foolish nor harmful. Am I right in my evaluation?” you uttered, still not quite able to look into Seonghwa’s infinite pools of brilliant sienna and dark brown.

“I- I am honoured, but that still does not detract from the fact that we can go get some air and come back. Shall we?”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to. Hell, need to. Let us have a quick wander?”

“...I’d like that.”

In no time, the winter air hit your cheeks and you were wrapping yourself as tightly as you could in your oversized coat. In your ears the pleasant sound of the vampire’s heels rang out, echoed by the stunning road onto which you were spat out by the heavy black front door of the bar. Warm-toned streetlights liberally decorated the sidewalks and painted the night in honey, gold and copper accents. Reflections of an artificial summer in the puddles and winter chill. Downright magical. Seonghwa seeked out your hand, holding it tight and guiding it into the pocket of his own coat, smirking when you raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing at all.”

You were certain that you were walking through a landscape painting, every element captured by your vision falling into its rightful place, harmonising with the rest. The mumbling and music was long gone, only to be replaced by conversation of other late city explorers and the occasional rumbling of a car lazily rolling past.

“Pissarro.”

“Hm?” Seonghwa kept looking ahead, but squeezed your hand to ask for you to continue.

“Boulevard Montmartre at Night. Painted in 1897, no?” you pointed at the surroundings with a tilt of the chin.

“Ah, indeed! Your perceptiveness never ceases to amaze me.”

“Well, thanks to you I got to see the original, so how could I not make the visual analogy?” you nudged his shoulder, earning a chuckle.

The painting was the only example of a landscape at night from the artist Camille Pissarro, making it all the more special despite it being part of a series of 14 views of the same location. Snow, rain, fog, morning, varying seasons, but only one glimmering night. It was one of the works that Seonghwa had managed to provide for your studies, resulting in a more than impressive academic outcome. Like Pissarro kept on painting the vista, your lover kept on giving, never asking for anything more than for you to share your hours with him, something you did not need to be prompted to do anyways.

“...I’m sorry I cannot reveal more than I do, at least not just yet,” he apologised, as though what he was committing was the greatest crime known to humanity and the supernatural.

As you looked up at the starry night sky, you swore you had heard these words before, uttered by the same voice, the same fingers interlocked with yours. A stabbing sensation in your cranium made you gasp, but you regained your composure quickly enough to not make it a priority for either of you. At the same time, Seonghwa’s expression altered to a semblance of… hope? Longing? You could not pinpoint it, but one of the many glowing dots above you clearly landed in his shining orbs, and he eagerly waited.

Waited for longer than you could realise in your present state.

On their own accord, your lips moved, forcing out a subconscious acknowledgement, previously suppressed. You swore the phrase belonged to another being, but it was as refreshing as the breeze tousling Seonghwa’s locks.

“I know. I can wait too.”

“Soon, my love.”

“I-I know.”

“I miss you.”

“I-” vision growing hazy, you reached to the vampire for support, which he readily provided, “I- too.”

One blink - oil paints decorated your hands, and those alluring eyes were staring back at you from a canvas. Another blink - Seonghwa was repeating your name, pressing his cheek against yours as he shielded you from falling into darkness with his strong arms.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ ⋆ .

Your office was inviting and offered a secure haven: a collection of neutral and wooden tones, with dashes of greenery to relax the eyes. From a potted ivy plant settled on the top of a large wall-length shelving unit to an indoor palm tree enjoying the rays in its designated corner, the room was a miniature paradise. You ran your hands over the thick birch desk, cautiously avoiding the stack of documents you had arranged for yourself to go through this day. Artwork restoration reports, contracts, exhibition plans for years to come… everything you thought you would never see, and yet it was right here in your palms.

Time moved slower, or at least that was how you began to perceive it now that it was in abundance. A fountain that did not cease to bestow gifts upon you - again, something you would have never imagined prior to the curious series of events that were your previous life unfolding the way they did. One fateful meeting, and you were a changed person, staring into the horizon and labelling it as a continuation rather than as a termination of all you could achieve. The world was your oyster, and loving dedication was the price. But when the price was so sweet, and so easy, who were you to say no? If you had to pick a concern, it would be the bandages and binding on your right arm; friction from the sleeve of the turtleneck and blazer you had worn today applying uncomfortable pressure to the delicate wound concealed within.

You stood up from the leatherbound office chair, adjusting your clothes and stepping to the window behind you to look out at the garden belonging to the gallery - a recent expansion. Grand, regal, and as the papers had emphasised, now returned to its rightful owner. You wondered just how much of the city had belonged to vampires at least for a portion of time, and you had no doubt that you would be making more discoveries soon, but for the time being, you were happy with the re-acquisition, or as Seonghwa had called it: your ‘turning’ gift. A particularly strong shift of the arm made you wince, and your other hand shot to nurse your sore arm.

“I’m so sorry darling, does it still hurt?” Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had slipped into the office, and immediately rushed towards you, concern painting his beautiful face through furrowed brows and a tiny scowl.

“N-no, barely. The sweater is silly-”

“Let’s not disregard ailments, shall we?” your partner gingerly lifted your arm, and after gaining permission through a few lethargic nods, pushed the sleeve upwards to reveal the bandages, “I- really, we need to apply the ointment again, that must be it-”

“Seonghwa-”

“Work can wait, I just need to-”

“My love-” Seonghwa paused his ramblings to stare back at you, puzzled, “it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Literally just a bite, isn’t it?” you smiled, the action instantly being mirrored, albeit with a tinge of remaining worry.

“Mm, perhaps I am overreacting, I can’t help it,” your thoughts were numbed by the silken touch of his lips on the back of your hand, wool against cotton as he pulled you into an embrace, “it should heal well once you get used to your new form, I am sure of it,” his tresses tickled your nose, but you ignored it, instead letting your head fall against him.

You stood almost completely still aside from the rocking side to side that was habitual for you both. A lulling motion, one that either of you revealed only to each other. A secret reserved for intimate, loving moments such as this. You shook your head in amusement and buried your nose in Seonghwa’s sweater, inhaling the aroma of his sweet perfume, recalling ‘Love and Pain’ - the painting that had marked the tightening of the invisible string tying you together. Or was it? Coincidentally, on the wall behind your lover was the real inception of your union, one that you had forgotten from one lifetime to the next. A portrait. The one that Seonghwa had been chasing, and what had been his decades-long mission came to an end.

Signed with your own hand, were initials of your name and the year of completion of the painting. None other than the beloved collector and muse, Park Seonghwa, who had posed for you, or rather a version of you, and ever since then, you were the only one on his mind. You had been the master both of the arts and of his fate.

“Please, I am embarrassed…” your partner mumbled, settling for futile attempts to position you in such a way that you would be looking out at the garden, but to no avail. Poking him playfully at the side, you induce a halt, and question him:

“What is there to be embarrassed about? That’s you. Painted by me.”

“Exactly. And you have it in your office, of all places.”

“Well I can’t exactly have you, in the flesh, on display all the time and I would like a work of art around here-”

“Shh-”

“Don’t shush me, Park. Be grateful I don’t keep the sketches out too.”

In all honesty, He would not mind if you did. You could do anything, and the vampire would adore and honour it. Whether it was in your blood or in his nature, he had never regretted almost losing himself in your favour. In your last life, he had gone against all rules set up by vampires, playing against what he swore was the devil in order to have the sliver of a chance to start again and, this time not lose you. Had his plan not succeeded, it was highly probable that he would have been erased from this planet too. But he would rather call himself a masochist than be law-abiding when it came to you.

“Next, you’ll be threatening me with a showcase of just my face-”

“What if I do?” you quipped, pulling back to boop his nose with yours, “I think it would look very pretty. Besides, now that I remember my apparent mastery of the visual arts, can’t I be a tiny bit proud, hm?”

“I would be terribly disappointed if you weren’t. Now, may I put that ointment on you?”

As if you could refuse those sparkling eyes. Promptly following him to the loveseat, which unfortunately for Seonghwa was situated right under the portrait, you sat down and waited. Your partner rushed to the medical cupboard - another new addition installed exclusively to support you as you were getting used to the vampiric nuances in your day to day. With well-practised motions, the required kit was in his hands, and in a blink, set down on the plush cushioning of the miniature sofa. You held back a chuckle as you saw the pout you so loved appear as he focused on unwinding the bandage with utmost care. Before you could feel any hurt, Seonghwa would already let go, or alter the angle at which he was tugging on the material. As soon as the plaster was peeled, you were met with the reason for your eternity and reawakening.

Two deep punctures, still a little irritated, not quite healed, but nevertheless a marking of your future and something you regarded with fondness. Wounds did not hurt when they were merely physical, especially not when you had someone who had bound their immortality to yours to tend to them. Seonghwa bit his lower lip, discontented with the ache as though he could feel it too, and took numerous pauses while cleaning up the wound to glance at you.

“I’ll be applying the ointment now, tell me if it stings, okay?”

“Okay,” you knew it wouldn’t. You had never heard a man be so adamant on checking ingredients at an apothecary before following Seonghwa after your first appointment as a vampire. But just to appease him, you followed this small spoken routine.

“You know… I was scared,” his voice was barely audible, and he could not look at you.

“What were you scared of?”

“Losing you again.”

“Well, I am here, aren’t I?”

Even before you were aware of Seonghwa, let alone the truth behind the portrait, all the roads still led to the same resolution. The arts, art history. Virtually synonymous, for without creation, there would not be the past, and without the study of the past, there would not be the celebration and respect of creation. Finally, you understood the beauty of evolution that Seonghwa had undergone all while remaining the same vulnerable yet legendary figure, dedicated to his vision of the arts, having recollected your own.

“So many things could have gone wrong,” Seonghwa’s mind was reeling from the sheer terror of possibility. He had taken advantage of his high social standing as an aristocrat and pulled rank to avoid waiting for any ritual guides to step in - it was not the first time, but still only the second. And both cases were related to you.

The first time might have been a foolish decision in retrospect, but considering the dire circumstances the extreme solution was the only one. With one foot crossing to the afterlife he was combatting the reapers, and was not going to let go of you even if it meant being pulled in. This time, when you had approached him a number of nights ago with your final agreement to his tentative proposal and kissed his ruminations away, he was ready. Years of study were not going to waste, after all. And yet when he studied the same irises as those from a time long gone, when he held the same hands, his blood ran even colder. What a gambling man he had been back then. The procedure to regift life to you had been risky, and Seonghwa, having never practised those elements of the dark arts bestowed upon his kind, had been taking shot after shot in the dark. How dare he play with your being like that? How dare he hold your existence on a sinful scale?

“But they didn’t.”

No they did not. Your confidence in him had aided considerably, he had to admit. The positioning of his fangs was perfect, and he had memorised all incantations down to the inflections. Second time a charm, but much more anxiety-inducing. Turning was not the same as revival, either. He could not stop himself from imagining the many scenarios of where he would have gone wrong, and cemented your identity only as a name on manuscripts, dissertation, paintings and reports.

“Even the ritual, what if you did not remember-”

“I would love you just the same. Whether I had all my memories or not. That much I can assure you of. That is why I trusted you in the first place, Seonghwa.”

You did not need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. All you could do was suggest a brighter palette, and be by his side no matter what colour scheme he were to decide on. It was an artist’s duty to know when to set the tools aside and consider a painting finished. The luxury of a collector was to live through many paintings, unify the souls contained in each and sustain a chronology of expression. The keepers, the scholars, made to observe change rather than induce it directly. This was why you were all the more grateful for Seonghwa daring to change your mortal fate not once but twice, risking himself and his image in your favour.

When your partner was satisfied with his medical care, he hummed to notify you and began to clear up, at least until you placed a weak hand on his leather-clad thigh to gain his full attention. He searched for a hint in your features, eyes darting across your face at lightning speed. Relief came when you grinned brightly, whispering sincere gratitude.

Impressionism - the movement and path made by legends. A rejection of traditional practice, a new vision and interpretation of the outside world in the hues of the soul. Light, reality, immediate action. A breath that reset the arts, magnificent and radical for the time, and now, much adored. From its conception to its establishment, you were there to witness and fall in love, and now could look back at the beauty that had bloomed. His irises, your favourite colour. The speckles of various shades, your favourite details. You stared into Seonghwa’s eyes and did not dare blink. Your favourite impression.

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obligatoryidolblog · 10 months

Text

Rewards (Park Seonghwa - Ateez)

Genre: smut

Pairing: Seonghwa/reader

Warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, dry humping, oral (m receiving)

Summary: Park Seonghwa, your university crush, was a dance major and not a damn thing else, it seemed. But now you could add another descriptor… virgin? Not for long, if you had anything to say about it.

A/N: This is a complete rewrite and rework of a fic I posted before.

Masterlist

“You’re never going to believe this,” your friend hissed, sliding into the seat next to you at your favorite coffee shop.

Nudging her backpack under the table with your toe as her boyfriend dropped to the bench across from you, you replied, “What? Did you actually manage to talk your calc professor into letting you skip the midterm?”

Poking her lower lip out, your friend huffed, “Nothing that amazing. At least for me.”

Her eyes turned teasing again, and you chuckled at the ever bouncing moods of your best friend as she went on, “But for you, this should be monumental.”

Raising an eyebrow, you waited patiently through her dramatic pause. She grinned, reveling in her moment, then leaned in conspiratorially.

“Your little crush? He’s, and I know we are shocked,” she said in an exaggerated stage whisper, “a virgin.”

“Babe,” her boyfriend groaned from across the table, looking up from his phone, “I didn’t mean for you to hear that, and I sure didn’t mean for you to tell the whole world. Hwa’s a good guy, don’t make fun of him.”

Distantly, you heard her telling him that she wasn’t making fun, but their words were coming in thin through a haze of static consuming your rational brain. Park Seonghwa was a dancer and not a damn thing else, it seemed. But now you could add another descriptor… virgin? Shit . Goddamn you, and goddamn your friend for telling you this, because you could feel a building thrum of need in your core at this knowledge.

You’d noticed him the first time when your friend had dragged you along to watch her boyfriend’s dance practice. As your friend sank into taking a million pictures of her boyfriend, you watched the tall mystery figure practice with an intensity that set him apart from the rest of the team. His long legs, the sheen of sweat on his broad shoulders when he pulled his shirt over his head, shaking his hair out of his face… it all held you mesmerized.

From that day forward, you’d tried to find out everything you could about Park Seonghwa from your admittedly rather large and gossipy social circle, to no avail. All you’d been able to find out was that he was attending your university on a dance scholarship, he was in your year, and he didn’t socialize much. According to your friend’s boyfriend, Seonghwa spent pretty much all of his time on dance. Apparently even to the exclusion of getting laid, if your friend was right in her proclamation.

“How’d you even find this out,” you finally asked, interrupting the couple at your table.

Your friend rolled her eyes and huffed, “I overheard my sweet boyfriend here talking to Hwa on the phone today.”

“And you were discussing his virginity?” you asked incredulously, turning to her boyfriend who grinned sheepishly.

“Not really,” he groaned, dropping his head into his folded arms, his muffled voice continuing, “I was calling to check on him because he twisted his ankle and had to go to the clinic. They were doing the intake questionnaire and my dumb ass had the phone on speaker next to Ms. Nosy when they asked if he was sexually active.”

At this your friend cut in triumphantly, “And Ms. Nosy here heard it directly from the man himself. He’s a virgin, just waiting for you to defile him.”

Your friend’s tone was teasing, and you know she didn’t mean those words literally, but the dampness collecting in your panties at the thought of leading Seonghwa into the world of sexual exploration was telling. Shifting in your seat, you pictured the way he would look under you, fucked out and falling apart from his first time, how he’d buck into your mouth, cursing at the overwhelming new sensations of your heat surrounding his cock…

“Earth to _____,” your friend broke into your fantasies, waving a hand in front of your face, “Stop fantasizing about dancer boy and keep up. When are you going to make a move on the poor guy?”

“The minute I can catch him out of the damn studio,” you muttered, crashing back from your imagination, “meaning never, I guess.”

The man across from you snorted and cut in, “Good luck with that. I practically had to threaten to kick him off the dance team and remind him he’ll lose his scholarship just to get him to take the time to set up tutoring sessions for the stupid bio class that he’s failing. Hwa is single-minded as hell.”

This caught your attention, and you quickly sat up, asking, “Wait, he needs a biology tutor?”

Your friend jumped in, immediately catching the direction your mind took, “Oh, this is perfect! Our little _____ here took bio last year and was an ace at it. Hook a bitch up!”

You turned begging eyes to the man across from you, who ran an exasperated hand through his hair and retorted, “I want him to actually pass the class, not just have his v-card taken.”

Holding a hand up in quick promise, you chimed in, “I swear, I’ll tutor him! He’ll pass!”

“ Then she’ll fuck him dumb,” your friend added, snickering.

Snorting, her boyfriend shot back, “Okay, I’ll set it up. Honestly, I don’t know if you can get Hwa’s mind off of his scholarship long enough to get his dick hard anyways.”

You ignored the jab, too excited to finally have the singular attention of Park Seonghwa, but your friend replied, “Please. That boy has to be so backed up he’ll cum in his pants the minute _____ touches him.”

“Wanna make a bet,” he shot back, and you rolled your eyes, knowing that your friend could never pass up a bet and her boyfriend knew that and used it to his advantage.

“Guys, please,” you tried to cut in, but it was a lost cause and you knew it.

“Bet. _____ gets in his pants within two tutoring sessions,” your friend challenged, sticking her hand across the table.

Her boyfriend took her hand, shaking it, asking, “Terms?”

You jumped up, knowing the terms of their bets were usually fairly explicit, cutting in, “Okay and on that note I’m out. Let me know when he is free for tutoring and give him my number.”

Striding out of the coffee shop, you started making plans. You intended to make damn sure your friend won her bet.

***

[Unknown Number]: Hi, is this _____?

Your heart raced. There it was. Seonghwa had texted you only minutes after the text you’d received from your friend that her boyfriend had set you up as the bio tutor. You quickly shot back an affirmative reply.

[Seonghwa]: Thanks so much for the help. I have practice everyday except Sunday evening. Are you free sometime then?

There was a party that night, but you would happily miss it for this. You set up a time for that Sunday evening, and gave him directions to your apartment. It was going to be a long week of waiting.

***

Sunday dawned, days of fantasizing and wearing your vibrator batteries down past, you set the scene. There was a roar between your legs as you showered, but you saved the orgasm, letting the tension in your loins build. You pulled on a nice, lacy bra and matching panties, then topped it with an unassuming pairing of a t-shirt and running shorts. Taking a look at the scene set in your living room, you gave yourself a pat on the back.

The couch was the perfect mix of innocent setting and soft surface. The spread of art supplies across the small dining table should keep him from trying to move to the more formal, less intimate setting of the kitchen. Nodding, you checked your phone. Seonghwa should be there at any minute, and you were buzzing with excitement. All year you had been fantasizing about this guy. Finally you would have his attention.

Just as you were letting your mind wander, there was a knock at your front door. A predatory grin spread across your lips as you ran a hand through your hair and approached the door. Pulling it open, you felt the lust in your loins roar louder. The tall man looked down at you with a shy smile, and you reveled in the quick flick of his eyes down your body before meeting your eyes.

Yep. You were going to fuck this guy.

***

Seonghwa felt his stomach flip as the door opened to reveal his new tutor.

Shit. It was _____. That _____. He was going to kill his team captain.

For almost the entire year he had been watching you. You’d been showing up to dance practice, hanging out with the girlfriend of the team captain. Bouncing around campus with your popular friend in your cute outfits, showing the smooth skin to the world that was on display right now for his eyes. His heart sped as he wet his suddenly dry lips and stepped in as you greeted him and welcomed him into your apartment.

You spun to lead him to a cozy looking couch, and he followed in a daze, his eyes glued to your ass that was barely covered by the pair of shorts that hugged you in the most damning ways. Feeling his face flush, he tried his damnedest to slow the rush of hormones that made his cock begin to swell. Embarrassed by his visceral reaction, he sat on the far end of the couch from you, quickly pulling his backpack to his lap, shifting uncomfortably.

This is why he focused on dance and avoided girls. His inexperience had reached a level of awkward so insurmountable that he just threw himself into the one thing he knew he was good at. Meeting your eyes finally, he tried valiantly to stop blushing. A smile curled your lips, and he bit his lip, finally seeing that smile directed at him.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck .

“So where are you needing help in bio?” you asked, and he tried to reign in the blood rushing from his brain to his face and his cock long enough to make a coherent response.

“I just… I’m kind of bad at all of it?” he babbled, looking down shyly.

A hand landed on his knee, and he jerked, looking to see you smiling at him. That did nothing to calm his pulse. Your hand was warm and he wanted nothing more than to feel it all over his body. Shit, he had to calm down, and he couldn’t do that with you touching him, even so innocently.

“It’s okay, Hwa,” you said playfully, and he nearly moaned at the sound of his name coming from your lips, “We will make sure you pass.”

Shifting, he looked down at the bag in his lap and murmured, “Thank you. I’m just useless at this. I’m good at dance and not much else.”

There was a pause, then your hand on his knee slowly slid up and he snapped his wide eyes up to meet yours as you replied slowly, “I’m sure you’re good at lots of things. You just need the right… motivation.”

Swallowing, he tried not to read too much into your words, but you continued on, leaning in, your smile turning slightly darker, sending his pulse racing as you went on, “Let’s see if I can motivate you to learn, Seonghwa.”

You gently took the bag from his lap, setting it to the floor next to him and scooting closer. He sat frozen, his gaze glued to your form as you settled in, your bare leg pressing against his jeans now, your mesmerizing eyes holding him still as he felt dizzy. He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he knew that he wanted you closer to him. Through the haze of want, he noted that your smile turned predatory.

“How about this,” you murmured, leaning closer, “If you can pass the mock quiz at the end of this tutoring session, I’ll give you a reward.”

His throat was dry, making his faint words raspy as he asked slowly, “What reward?”

Looking down, you smiled, then flicked your eyes up to his once more with a teasing curl of your lips as you squeezed his thigh and replied, “You’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?”

***

It had been the longest, most tense hour of your life. Tutoring Seonghwa was the most difficult test of your patience, especially with how responsive he was to you. From the first moment you caught the sight of his tenting jeans when he sat on your couch, you knew. He was yours. You were going to wreck this boy.

His voice shook as he repeated the answers you’d gone over with him, and you nodded encouragingly, trailing your fingers over the back of his hand. He stumbled over his words, and you chuckled, taking his hand in yours. Meeting his eyes, you smiled, turning to face him fully.

“Very good. That’s it, Hwa. You got them all right,” you murmured, pulling his hand to lay it on your thigh, watching his eyes widen.

His palm was sweaty on your skin, and his cheeks flushed again as he asked, “So then… my reward?”

Laying your hand over his, you slid his palm up your thigh to the hem of your shorts, saying, “Hmmm, you did earn it. What would you like, Hwa?”

He swallowed heavily and you tried not to laugh in victory as he fumbled with his words, his eyes darting across your body. Shifting your thigh so that his hand laying on it slipped between your legs, you leaned in.

“Come on, Seonghwa, you’ve been so good this whole time. There must be something you want,” you teased, loving how he squirmed next to you.

“I…” he stammered, “I don’t… I mean- look, I don’t know if I’m misreading this or-”

Giggling, you spared his fumbling by pressing your lips to his. His hand gripped your inner thigh in surprise, and you moaned gently into the kiss, tilting your head to deepen it. His breathing was fast as you cupped his face in your hands. Pulling away, you met his eyes, watching for any hesitancy.

“Wow,” he breathed out, his eyes still closed as he leaned his forehead against yours, “I’ve wanted to do that all evening.”

“Can I show you what I’ve wanted to do all year? ” you murmured, squeezing his hand between your thighs.

His eyes snapped open in wonder, and he slowly nodded. That was all the consent you needed. Whipping your shirt off to reveal the lacy bra you wore beneath it, you swooped yourself over him, straddling his hips, hands threading into his hair. You had a momentary view of his shocked expression before you claimed his lips once more. Grinding down, you finally got a feel of the impressive bulge he’d been sporting all evening as you’d teased him throughout the tutoring session.

Jesus, his dick was big. Thick, possibly a gentle curve to it, and fucking long. Slowly, you began to rock atop him, and his hands seemed to flutter around you, not knowing where to land as you worked him through a deep, domineering kiss. Tugging gently at his hair, you savored the sound of his moan as his hands finally landed on your ass, squeezing gently. Rutting against his bulge, you moaned into the kiss and felt him twitch beneath you.

Pulling back, you trailed kisses down his jaw to suck a mark into his neck, and he hissed out, “Fuck, _____, fuck… I should tell you… I’ve never-”

Sitting up, you unhooked your bra, silencing him effectively, and you cupped his face once more, drawing him towards your lips, saying, “That’s okay, Hwa. I’ll teach you.”

This time his kiss was feverish, his hands flying up to grip your breasts, thumbs flicking at the pearled peaks before you broke from his lips, arching your back in offering before his lips latched onto one of your nipples.

“Fuck, Hwa, just like that,” you moaned, reveling in the whimper he gave at your words, lost in the taste of your skin.

The wetness between your legs had soaked through your panties and shorts, beginning to wet the long bulge in his jeans. The friction on your clit wasn’t enough though, so you pulled Seonghwa’s head back, relishing how he tried to chase after your skin, lost in the sensation of you. Standing, you smiled reassuringly at the worried look on his face, and you hooked your fingers in the waist of your shorts and panties, tugging them off.

You allowed him a moment to take in the sight of you naked before him, his wide eyes sweeping over your form before you waved a hand to him, saying, “Shirt off, Hwa.”

He sat frozen for a moment until you cocked a brow at him, causing him to scramble to rip his shirt over his head. Licking your lips as you were distracted for a long moment by the view of his chiseled form and the sheen of sweat gracing the skin that you had dreamed of running your tongue over for months now. Dropping to your knees before him, you tugged the button of his jeans open, his breathing sped as he shifted, sinking deeper into the couch, adjusting his hips as you slid the zipper down and reached in to wrap your fingers around his thick length, drawing out his leaking cock.

You took a moment to appreciate the beauty of his dick, the red tip leaking precum, the veins running up his shaft, the upward sweeping curve. Before you could stop yourself, you ran your tongue out to circle the tip and Seonghwa’s fingers slid into your hair, gripping it tightly, softly whispered curses falling from his lips, causing your wetness to begin to slide down your inner thigh. You took the tip in your mouth, suckling gently, and his breathing became choked.

“Shit, _____, I can’t” he babbled, lost in the sensations of your mouth on his cock, “please, I can’t-”

Pulling off of him, pressing kisses down the shaft, you let him pull you back onto his lap with his trembling hands. Taking in the jerking twitches of his length and the sheen of sweat on his chest, you straddled him once more, and took one of his hands, drawing it to your core.

“Let me show you how much I want you,” you murmured, meeting his eyes and holding them with a salacious smile.

Running his fingers over your folds, you threw your head back, moaning along with him as you wet his fingers. Slipping his fingers over your clit, you showed him how you liked it, just the right pressure. You ground your hips against his hand, moaning his name and finding him watching you in wonder. Breath coming quickly now, you leaned in to capture his lips once more as you slipped his fingers to your opening. He slid them in and you gripped his hair once more, letting him tentatively slide in and out of you, your juices pooling in his hand, coating his fingers as you rode them.

When the pads of his fingers brushed over your spot, you rewarded him with a deep moan, clenching around his fingers. He moaned shakily into the kiss, his fingers jerking inside you. Raising off of them, you licked your lips, meeting his eyes once more as you gripped the base of his cock and adjusted yourself to hover over it.

“Tell me you want it,” you murmured, teasing the tip across your opening, letting the heat and wetness collect on him.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he breathed out reverently, “Please, _____. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

That was all you needed. Sinking on him, you bit your lip, eyes trying to fall shut at the stretch of him filling you up, but keeping your eyes on him, watching how his fluttered shut, his head falling back as you took him to the hilt.

“Holy shit,” he moaned softly, “You feel- god, _____, you are incredible.”

Settling for a moment with him deep inside you, you wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as you kissed him slowly, deeply, the urgency gone now that you finally had him buried deep inside you. One of his hands gripped your ass once more while the other trailed up your spine to tangle into your hair. As his lips slid down to your neck, you began to ride him, your head spinning at the heavy slide of his thickness inside you.

His breathing stuttered against your skin as you moaned softly, “Oh my god, Hwa, you fill me up so well.”

His hips began to thrust up, meeting your slow, sinuous riding, speeding you with his neediness. He flopped back against the back of the couch, his hands moving to grip your hips as he thrust up harder, watching you ride him. The fucked out expression on his face had you tightening around his thick length, watching the way his back arched as he tried to gain more speed.

“You want to cum in me, baby?” you murmured against his lips, leaning forward to get a better angle, speeding atop him and raining kisses over his jawline, “Fill me up and fuck it into me while I cum on your cock?”

A high pitched whimper escaped him at your words, the meaning sinking in and causing him to snap his hips up into you hard and fast, the new rhythm and the angle of his head slamming into your spot bringing you to the edge. That coupled with the way he arched, hissing out pleas brought your hand down to your clit, wanting to squeeze around him and milk every bit of cum out of him.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last,” he gasped, his grip on your hips bruising, eyes wildly searching your face for permission which you immediately granted him.

“Do it, baby,” you hissed, feeling your own orgasm right on the bridge at his desperation to cum and the way his dick twitched inside you, “cum in me…”

Throwing his head back, Seonghwa growled out a curse, slamming you down on him and grinding you on his cock as he jerked, hot seed erupting from him to fill you. The sensation threw you over the edge and you cried out his name as you clamped down around him, your clenching sheathe milking him dry. When the last quake of pleasure was wrung from you, you fell forward across his chest, gasping for breath and pressing gentle, sleepy kisses up to his lips.

“Wow,” he breathed out again, a satisfied smile creeping over his lips as he lazily opened an eye to peer down at you, “That was- wow.”

Giggling breathlessly, you nodded, agreeing, “Yes it was. Are you okay?”

Wrapping his arms around you, he laughed softly and replied with a kiss to your hair, “Never better. I guess I should thank you.”

Raising a brow up at him, you giggled, “You can thank me with an actual date?”

His eyes widened, and he paused, then laughed happily, hugging you tightly, “Deal.”

#ateez fic #ateez smut #park seonghwa fic #park seonghwa smut #seonghwa smut #seonghwa fic #my writing #300 notes

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