well heyyyyy ;)

.18+. .new to writing fanfics. .ateez. .yungiho ult<3.
. .san & yeosang

[missyungi]

Fanfic Links

Hongjoong: .soundcheck. .soundcheck - after.

Yunho: .through the lens. .through the lens - part 2.

Mingi: .leave it. .leave it - part 2. .leave it - part 3. .leave it - part 4.

San:

[imminentdreamermuse]

That's Not What You Like

Pairing: Yunho x afab!reader

Word count: 2.7k

Genre: smut, fantasy/historical-ish setting

Summary: At a palace ball with your new fiancée you run into Yunho who hasn't accepted that you have moved on, could he be right?

Warnings: MDNI, explicit content 18+ only, kind of non-con (he is pushy but reader doesn't really fight that hard), edging, a bit of bondage, dom/possessive Yunho

This is complete fiction and doesn't represent the real people etc.

A/N: This is in honour of the first line of any Ateez song that I ever heard, I don't think I'll need to explain which one.

Also an entirely self-serving cameo from one of my favourite biases outside of Ateez who Yeosang used as an example during their argument about Atiny going to watch other idols.

Enjoy!

***************

Fic Masterlist

***************

The night was warm and the air smelled of jasmine and the sea. The palace was bustling with party goers as you leaned against a wall, hoping against hope that he wasn’t going to show up. You were happy now, life was uncomplicated and you liked it this way. Yunho turning up and being his usual difficult self would not go well for either you or Eunwoo.

‘Why are you hiding out here, beautiful?’ Eunwoo whispered in your ear, making you jump a little. You turn and instantly feel all the stress drain out of you, his eyes twinkling as he smiles at you, pleased that he has caught you off guard, glad he still makes your pulse quicken.

He looks beautiful tonight in black and gold, the buttons on his jacket gleaming in the moonlight.

‘Shall we dance?’ He asks, holding a white gloved hand out, which you gratefully take, and you walk together through the grand glass doors into the ball room.

You take in the skirts twirling, the sound of feet moving to the tempo of the band to the side. The room is glowing in candlelight and you and Eunwoo move together like you are two halves of the same being, whispering to each other, in your own world.

He turns you and as you move, mid-spin, you see Yunho, towering over the women gathered around him, staring directly at you. Shit. When did he arrive? How long has he been watching you? It doesn’t matter you tell yourself as you turn back to the man you’re with, the man you’re going to marry. His eyes crinkle as he smiles at you and you breathe out a sigh of relief.

But you can feel Yunho’s dark gaze upon you, and worse, the glares of the women trying to catch his attention. He isn’t subtle - his size and the weight of his eyes on you visible to everyone in the room. You feel your breath catching in your throat and you need to be away from him, away from that stare.

‘I’ll be right back,’ you say, silently pleading that Eunwoo hasn’t yet noticed the dark presence. His brow creases but he lets you go.

You don’t run but, picking your skirts up, you move as fast as possible away from the crowds, down through the palace corridors until you find a quiet spot beside the staircase. God you wish you could loosen the ribbons of your corset, the boning making it hard to catch your panicked breath. Your head jerks up when you hear him.

‘It was nice of you to find somewhere we wouldn’t be disturbed,’ Yunho says, stepping out from a dark corner. The smile on his mouth doesn’t reach his eyes.

‘I don’t have anything to say to you,’ you say. It comes out weak and quiet and all you want is for someone to come down the stairs, round the corner, anything.

His long legs mean just 3 paces and he’s right in front of you so you have to look up if you want to look him in the eyes. You want to, stare him down and tell him you’re happy now. But as you turn your face up all the words get frozen in your throat.

‘Why are you still pretending you want to be with him and not me, lover?’ His hand comes up and strokes your bare arm and you pull back but end up against the wall.

‘I am not your lover Yunho,’ you say. You look anywhere but at him, ready to bolt except now his arms are coming up and resting on the walls either side of you, his imposing frame leaning down so his face is level with yours.

‘Are you sure about that? Are you sure you don’t picture me when he’s inside you, lover?’ he whispers. His eyes are blazing now and you swallow down the rising bile in your throat.

‘I… I wasn’t even thinking about you when you were inside me,’ you spit back at him. He squints his eyes at you and his jaw ticks, anger visible in his jaw in the way that you know means you’ve caught him off guard.

His hands are still either side of you and although you don’t want to touch him you press your palm to the dark velvet of his jacket to try and push him away but he remains immoveable.

‘Please, Eunwoo will be waiting for me.’

‘Do not. Say. His. Name.’ He moves forward, pressing closer into you and drawing up to his full height.

His hand slides down the wall and onto your hip, grabbing you and pulling you flush against him.

‘Lover’ he says with a forced smile, ‘the only man’s name I ever want to hear come out of those lips is mine while I’m taking you apart.’ With that he crashes his lips into yours.

You beat your fists against him but he traps them in one large hand as the other holds you against him. His lips press to yours and you feel your own betray you even as you feel tears come to your eyes.

He pulls back, a look of victory in his eyes.

‘See, your body knows what your heart keeps fighting. You are mine.’

He reaches out and long fingers caress your jaw and wipe your tears away.

‘I would choose him over you every day,’ you say, but you sound less certain. He just smiles and your feet follow as he takes your hand and leads you up the stairs.

========================================================================

When you reach the room he is staying in you realise the mistake you’re making and try to pull your hand out of his grasp but he catches your wrist - no words needed. Gripping tight he pulls you towards him and through the door.

As he slams the door shut behind you his hand comes up and grips your throat. It isn’t tight but enough to give you goosebumps, he feels you swallow hard under his fingers. He leans in and kisses you again.

‘Don’t forget, I know every part of you,’ he says between kisses. ‘I know your darkest desires, I know what makes you scream, I know what makes you quiver.’ He turns you and your hands land on the door as he makes quick work of loosening your corset. He reaches round and, while sliding his hands down your chest, he pulls the corset open and lets it fall to the floor.

You take the first deep breath you’ve been able to take for what feels like hours. The relief is short-lived though when you feel Yunho’s lips on your neck and the ribbon of your undershirt being unknotted.

‘You always knew how to be a good girl for me, didn’t you?’ he whispers in your ear causing you to shiver with equal parts lust and guilt.

His lips trace your spine and his hands undo the skirts that envelop you. Just as they’re about to fall you grab them and spin to see him on his knees.

‘No, I can’t do this, you have to stop Yunho. Please, I can’t do this to Eunwoo.’

‘Stop saying his name. You don’t belong to him, you belong only to me,’ he shouts this time. You shrink back against the door, accidentally letting go of your skirts. They drop down to the floor and Yunho looks up at you, his eyes taking in the sight of your bare top half and the silk shorts the only thing on your bottom half.

His eyes glow as he presses forward, his head resting on your stomach, hands trailing up your sides. He pulls at your shorts and you let out a whimper as you feel the soft silk float away from you. Silently he looks up at you and for the first time tonight you are reminded of how he worships you, your body.

He lifts your legs so you step out of your underwear and then, eyes still looking up at you, he rests your leg on his shoulder. He closes his eyes and rests his cheek on your thigh, his hand sliding up and just gently pressing against you.

‘I knew you would be wet for me, lover,’ he says, his voice husky as his fingers slowly scissor your folds apart.

His tongue darts out and licks you from top to bottom and you gasp at the sensation - both strange and yet still familiar after all this time. He traces patterns over your clit and you lean forward into it, making him moan into you. The door is cold on your back and your skirts are still on the floor around you both but the only sensation that matters is his mouth on you, growing hungrier by the minute.

He moves his mouth down and starts to fuck you with his tongue, his nose bumping you in just the right spot. You reach your hands down and put your fingers in his hair holding him to you and you feel the smirk in his lips.

As you start to grind your hips into him, your breath coming shallower the closer you get, he pushes one then two fingers inside of you and pumps them in and out as he focuses on flicking his tongue on your clit again.

‘Right there, don’t stop, please,’ you cry. Just as you feel the tightness in your stomach and your cries are starting to merge into one, he stops.

‘Lover, you didn’t think I would reward you so soon after everything you’ve put me through?’ His smile is mocking and you gape down at him, shock in every fibre of your being.

He stands up, his lips still covered with your slick and he kisses you hard, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He grabs your hips and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around him and carrying you to the bed.

Half of your brain is screaming ‘get your clothes and leave, what are you doing?’ while the other half tightens your thighs on him and wraps your arms around his neck.

The bed is big, a four poster bed with curtains around it and pillows piled up by the headboard. He practically throws you on it and you bounce back, unnerved by both his roughness and realising he is still fully dressed.

Yunho reaches over to the curtain tie and rips it down, grabbing your wrists and tying them together. He pushes you flat, pulls your arms above your head and ties it to the post of the bed. The restraints are tight and the position of your arms pushes your breasts up so he can see how quickly you’re breathing from the movement of your chest.

Your choices are flashing before your eyes now, how have you ended up here, again.

Yunho is undressing, slipping off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his wide shoulders. You can’t help but look at him, his broad chest on display as he looks down at you, his hand resting on the buttons of his trousers.

‘Do you think Prince Charming downstairs can ever make you feel like I do?’ Yunho asks as he walks back towards the bed. He undoes his top buttons but doesn’t remove his bottoms. He pushes your thighs apart and presses himself down on you, the bulge in his trousers pushing through the material into your core.

His weight bearing down on you he starts to kiss and lick at your neck, your collarbone, your chest. Your hips move involuntarily, grinding into his hardness, begging for friction.

‘I love him,’ you say, your body contradicting your words and Yunho knows it.

He bites down on your collarbone, hard enough to make you cry out and he licks it to soothe it.

‘No, you don’t,’ he says, looking you in the eyes. His expression is steel and you don’t know how to argue anymore.

‘Try saying that again while I ruin you over and over again until dawn.’

He stands up to take off his trousers and you can’t help the moan that comes out of you when he’s fully naked, strong and lean - precum already beading on the head of his cock.

He’s back on top of you and this time you can’t help it - you kiss him, your neck craning off the bed and your arms pulling the tie above you, wishing for the freedom to run your hands over his soft skin. Maybe this is what you needed, one last time to get him out of your system, one final goodbye.

He kisses you back with hunger and his hands are running up and down you, grasping at every part of you.

One hand reaches for your breast and after just a few gentle flicks he pinches it hard making you gasp and clench around nothing.

‘Tell me you want only me,’ Yunho says, his forehead pressed against yours.

‘No,’ you reply, still defiant.

‘Have it your way, you’ll admit it tonight one way or another.’

He reaches down and pushes his fingers in you roughly. His fingers are long and he always knew how to curl them so they hit you in the sweet spot immediately. His thumb comes up and rubs on your clit. After being edged once it doesn’t take long for you to be on the precipice again.

When you’re clenching on his fingers but before you’re pushed over the edge he pulls them out and thrusts inside you before you have time to process what is happening. He isn’t gentle and he bottoms out immediately. He at least waits a moment for you to adjust to him once he’s inside of you and your breathy pants from just having him resting inside of you makes his lips curl up in a smile.

‘What were you saying about not being my lover? It seems your body knows exactly what it needs,’ he says as he slowly pulls almost all the way out before pressing back in. In comparison to how he was when he entered you he moves slowly - the drag of his cock meaning you can feel every ridge, every vein. He pushes your thighs up higher and he’s hitting so deep you can feel it in your stomach.

‘I’m going to cum, I can’t…’ you cry out.

‘Can’t what?’ He grunts as his thrusts get harder but he keeps the slow, tortuous pace. ‘Can’t last when you know my cock was made for you? Can’t handle it when you’ve not had your pussy pounded the way you need it? Tell me you’re mine and I’ll let you cum.’

Tears spring to your eyes again. You do need him. You need this. Your body needs him.

‘Look at me,’ Yunho says, gripping your jaw.

‘Yes,’ you reply, barely able to keep your eyes open at the relentless feeling of his head hitting your cervix.

‘Tell me. Tell me who you belong to?’ His other hand snakes between you, pressing down between your legs, not quite touching enough to push you over the edge. ‘Say my name, tell me you’re mine.’

He starts to move his fingers and you nearly choke as the previous interrupted orgasms threaten to rip out of you.

‘You, Yunho, only you,’ you babble as he presses harder and the feeling of your orgasm crashes over you. He doesn’t let up and as you start to come down from the high you try to wriggle away from the overstimulation.

‘Lover, I think it’s best that I decide what you need from here on.’ He pulls his hand away but his pace starts to increase and you can’t help the cries that are coming out of you as he leans back and fucks you mercilessly. His hands are bruising as he pulls your hips up off the bed.

It’s overwhelming and when he presses his thumb down on you it immediately winds you up again. His hips stuttering and his pace becoming sloppy as he pulls another orgasm out of you. As your walls clench, and you scream his name, he cums hard, filling you up and grinding it into you.

Before he collapses down on you he reaches up and releases your restraints. The blood rushes into your arms as you bring them down from above your head and rest them on Yunho’s back, finally able to feel him.

He looks up at you, eyes wide and vulnerable for the first time that night.

‘Who do you belong to?’

‘You, Yunho, it was only ever you.’

***************

[imminentdreamermuse]

That's Not What You Like

Pairing: Yunho x afab!reader

Word count: 2.7k

Genre: smut, fantasy/historical-ish setting

Summary: At a palace ball with your new fiancée you run into Yunho who hasn't accepted that you have moved on, could he be right?

Warnings: MDNI, explicit content 18+ only, kind of non-con, edging, a bit of bondage, dom/possessive Yunho

This is complete fiction and doesn't represent the real people etc.

A/N: This is in honour of the first line of any Ateez song that I ever heard, I don't think I'll need to explain which one.

Also an entirely self-serving cameo from one of my favourite biases outside of Ateez who Yeosang used as an example during their argument about Atiny going to watch other idols.

Enjoy!

*********

The night was warm and the air smelled of jasmine and the sea. The palace was bustling with party goers as you leaned against a wall, hoping against hope that he wasn’t going to show up. You were happy now, life was uncomplicated and you liked it this way. Yunho turning up and being his usual difficult self would not go well for either you or Eunwoo.

‘Why are you hiding out here, beautiful?’ Eunwoo whispered in your ear, making you jump a little. You turn and instantly feel all the stress drain out of you, his eyes twinkling as he smiles at you, pleased that he has caught you off guard, glad he still makes your pulse quicken.

He looks beautiful tonight in black and gold, the buttons on his jacket gleaming in the moonlight.

‘Shall we dance?’ He asks, holding a white gloved hand out, which you gratefully take, and you walk together through the grand glass doors into the ball room.

You take in the skirts twirling, the sound of feet moving to the tempo of the band to the side. The room is glowing in candlelight and you and Eunwoo move together like you are two halves of the same being, whispering to each other, in your own world.

He turns you and as you move, mid-spin, you see Yunho, towering over the women gathered around him, staring directly at you. Shit. When did he arrive? How long has he been watching you? It doesn’t matter you tell yourself as you turn back to the man you’re with, the man you’re going to marry. His eyes crinkle as he smiles at you and you breathe out a sigh of relief.

But you can feel Yunho’s dark gaze upon you, and worse, the glares of the women trying to catch his attention. He isn’t subtle - his size and the weight of his eyes on you visible to everyone in the room. You feel your breath catching in your throat and you need to be away from him, away from that stare.

‘I’ll be right back,’ you say, silently pleading that Eunwoo hasn’t yet noticed the dark presence. His brow creases but he lets you go.

You don’t run but, picking your skirts up, you move as fast as possible away from the crowds, down through the palace corridors until you find a quiet spot beside the staircase. God you wish you could loosen the ribbons of your corset, the boning making it hard to catch your panicked breath. Your head jerks up when you hear him.

‘It was nice of you to find somewhere we wouldn’t be disturbed,’ Yunho says, stepping out from a dark corner. The smile on his mouth doesn’t reach his eyes.

‘I don’t have anything to say to you,’ you say. It comes out weak and quiet and all you want is for someone to come down the stairs, round the corner, anything.

His long legs mean just 3 paces and he’s right in front of you so you have to look up if you want to look him in the eyes. You want to, stare him down and tell him you’re happy now. But as you turn your face up all the words get frozen in your throat.

‘Why are you still pretending you want to be with him and not me, lover?’ His hand comes up and strokes your bare arm and you pull back but end up against the wall.

‘I am not your lover Yunho,’ you say. You look anywhere but at him, ready to bolt except now his arms are coming up and resting on the walls either side of you, his imposing frame leaning down so his face is level with yours.

‘Are you sure about that? Are you sure you don’t picture me when he’s inside you, lover?’ he whispers. His eyes are blazing now and you swallow down the rising bile in your throat.

‘I… I wasn’t even thinking about you when you were inside me,’ you spit back at him. He squints his eyes at you and his jaw ticks, anger visible in his jaw in the way that you know means you’ve caught him off guard.

His hands are still either side of you and although you don’t want to touch him you press your palm to the dark velvet of his jacket to try and push him away but he remains immoveable.

‘Please, Eunwoo will be waiting for me.’

‘Do not. Say. His. Name.’ He moves forward, pressing closer into you and drawing up to his full height.

His hand slides down the wall and onto your hip, grabbing you and pulling you flush against him.

‘Lover’ he says with a forced smile, ‘the only man’s name I ever want to hear come out of those lips is mine while I’m taking you apart.’ With that he crashes his lips into yours.

You beat your fists against him but he traps them in one large hand as the other holds you against him. His lips press to yours and you feel your own betray you even as you feel tears come to your eyes.

He pulls back, a look of victory in his eyes.

‘See, your body knows what your heart keeps fighting. You are mine.’

He reaches out and long fingers caress your jaw and wipe your tears away.

‘I would choose him over you every day,’ you say, but you sound less certain. He just smiles and your feet follow as he takes your hand and leads you up the stairs.

========================================================================

When you reach the room he is staying in you realise the mistake you’re making and try to pull your hand out of his grasp but he catches your wrist - no words needed. Gripping tight he pulls you towards him and through the door.

As he slams the door shut behind you his hand comes up and grips your throat. It isn’t tight but enough to give you goosebumps, he feels you swallow hard under his fingers. He leans in and kisses you again.

‘Don’t forget, I know every part of you,’ he says between kisses. ‘I know your darkest desires, I know what makes you scream, I know what makes you quiver.’ He turns you and your hands land on the door as he makes quick work of loosening your corset. He reaches round and, while sliding his hands down your chest, he pulls the corset open and lets it fall to the floor.

You take the first deep breath you’ve been able to take for what feels like hours. The relief is short-lived though when you feel Yunho’s lips on your neck and the ribbon of your undershirt being unknotted.

‘You always knew how to be a good girl for me, didn’t you?’ he whispers in your ear causing you to shiver with equal parts lust and guilt.

His lips trace your spine and his hands undo the skirts that envelop you. Just as they’re about to fall you grab them and spin to see him on his knees.

‘No, I can’t do this, you have to stop Yunho. Please, I can’t do this to Eunwoo.’

‘Stop saying his name. You don’t belong to him, you belong only to me,’ he shouts this time. You shrink back against the door, accidentally letting go of your skirts. They drop down to the floor and Yunho looks up at you, his eyes taking in the sight of your bare top half and the silk shorts the only thing on your bottom half.

His eyes glow as he presses forward, his head resting on your stomach, hands trailing up your sides. He pulls at your shorts and you let out a whimper as you feel the soft silk float away from you. Silently he looks up at you and for the first time tonight you are reminded of how he worships you, your body.

He lifts your legs so you step out of your underwear and then, eyes still looking up at you, he rests your leg on his shoulder. He closes his eyes and rests his cheek on your thigh, his hand sliding up and just gently pressing against you.

‘I knew you would be wet for me, lover,’ he says, his voice husky as his fingers slowly scissor your folds apart.

His tongue darts out and licks you from top to bottom and you gasp at the sensation - both strange and yet still familiar after all this time. He traces patterns over your clit and you lean forward into it, making him moan into you. The door is cold on your back and your skirts are still on the floor around you both but the only sensation that matters is his mouth on you, growing hungrier by the minute.

He moves his mouth down and starts to fuck you with his tongue, his nose bumping you in just the right spot. You reach your hands down and put your fingers in his hair holding him to you and you feel the smirk in his lips.

As you start to grind your hips into him, your breath coming shallower the closer you get, he pushes one then two fingers inside of you and pumps them in and out as he focuses on flicking his tongue on your clit again.

‘Right there, don’t stop, please,’ you cry. Just as you feel the tightness in your stomach and your cries are starting to merge into one, he stops.

‘Lover, you didn’t think I would reward you so soon after everything you’ve put me through?’ His smile is mocking and you gape down at him, shock in every fibre of your being.

He stands up, his lips still covered with your slick and he kisses you hard, forcing his tongue into your mouth. He grabs your hips and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around him and carrying you to the bed.

Half of your brain is screaming ‘get your clothes and leave, what are you doing?’ while the other half tightens your thighs on him and wraps your arms around his neck.

The bed is big, a four poster bed with curtains around it and pillows piled up by the headboard. He practically throws you on it and you bounce back, unnerved by both his roughness and realising he is still fully dressed.

Yunho reaches over to the curtain tie and rips it down, grabbing your wrists and tying them together. He pushes you flat, pulls your arms above your head and ties it to the post of the bed. The restraints are tight and the position of your arms pushes your breasts up so he can see how quickly you’re breathing from the movement of your chest.

Your choices are flashing before your eyes now, how have you ended up here, again.

Yunho is undressing, slipping off his jacket, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off his wide shoulders. You can’t help but look at him, his broad chest on display as he looks down at you, his hand resting on the buttons of his trousers.

‘Do you think Prince Charming downstairs can ever make you feel like I do?’ Yunho asks as he walks back towards the bed. He undoes his top buttons but doesn’t remove his bottoms. He pushes your thighs apart and presses himself down on you, the bulge in his trousers pushing through the material into your core.

His weight bearing down on you he starts to kiss and lick at your neck, your collarbone, your chest. Your hips move involuntarily, grinding into his hardness, begging for friction.

‘I love him,’ you say, your body contradicting your words and Yunho knows it.

He bites down on your collarbone, hard enough to make you cry out and he licks it to soothe it.

‘No, you don’t,’ he says, looking you in the eyes. His expression is steel and you don’t know how to argue anymore.

‘Try saying that again while I ruin you over and over again until dawn.’

He stands up to take off his trousers and you can’t help the moan that comes out of you when he’s fully naked, strong and lean - precum already beading on the head of his cock.

He’s back on top of you and this time you can’t help it - you kiss him, your neck craning off the bed and your arms pulling the tie above you, wishing for the freedom to run your hands over his soft skin. Maybe this is what you needed, one last time to get him out of your system, one final goodbye.

He kisses you back with hunger and his hands are running up and down you, grasping at every part of you.

One hand reaches for your breast and after just a few gentle flicks he pinches it hard making you gasp and clench around nothing.

‘Tell me you want only me,’ Yunho says, his forehead pressed against yours.

‘No,’ you reply, still defiant.

‘Have it your way, you’ll admit it tonight one way or another.’

He reaches down and pushes his fingers in you roughly. His fingers are long and he always knew how to curl them so they hit you in the sweet spot immediately. His thumb comes up and rubs on your clit. After being edged once it doesn’t take long for you to be on the precipice again.

When you’re clenching on his fingers but before you’re pushed over the edge he pulls them out and thrusts inside you before you have time to process what is happening. He isn’t gentle and he bottoms out immediately. He at least waits a moment for you to adjust to him once he’s inside of you and your breathy pants from just having him resting inside of you makes his lips curl up in a smile.

‘What were you saying about not being my lover? It seems your body knows exactly what it needs,’ he says as he slowly pulls almost all the way out before pressing back in. In comparison to how he was when he entered you he moves slowly - the drag of his cock meaning you can feel every ridge, every vein. He pushes your thighs up higher and he’s hitting so deep you can feel it in your stomach.

‘I’m going to cum, I can’t…’ you cry out.

‘Can’t what?’ He grunts as his thrusts get harder but he keeps the slow, tortuous pace. ‘Can’t last when you know my cock was made for you? Can’t handle it when you’ve not had your pussy pounded the way you need it? Tell me you’re mine and I’ll let you cum.’

Tears spring to your eyes again. You do need him. You need this. Your body needs him.

‘Look at me,’ Yunho says, gripping your jaw.

‘Yes,’ you reply, barely able to keep your eyes open at the relentless feeling of his head hitting your cervix.

‘Tell me. Tell me who you belong to?’ His other hand snakes between you, pressing down between your legs, not quite touching enough to push you over the edge. ‘Say my name, tell me you’re mine.’

He starts to move his fingers and you nearly choke as the previous interrupted orgasms threaten to rip out of you.

‘You, Yunho, only you,’ you babble as he presses harder and the feeling of your orgasm crashes over you. He doesn’t let up and as you start to come down from the high you try to wriggle away from the overstimulation.

‘Lover, I think it’s best that I decide what you need from here on.’ He pulls his hand away but his pace starts to increase and you can’t help the cries that are coming out of you as he leans back and fucks you mercilessly. His hands are bruising as he pulls your hips up off the bed.

It’s overwhelming and when he presses his thumb down on you it immediately winds you up again. His hips stuttering and his pace becoming sloppy as he pulls another orgasm out of you. As your walls clench, and you scream his name, he cums hard, filling you up and grinding it into you.

Before he collapses down on you he reaches up and releases your restraints. The blood rushes into your arms as you bring them down from above your head and rest them on Yunho’s back, finally able to feel him.

He looks up at you, eyes wide and vulnerable for the first time that night.

‘Who do you belong to?’

‘You, Yunho, it was only ever you.’

*********

[imminentdreamermuse]

The Producer

Pairing: San x afab!reader x Hongjoong

Word count: 1.5k

Genre: smut

Summary: when you and San can't keep your hands off each other one night, you weren't expecting to get caught by Hongjoong

Warnings: MDNI, explicit content 18+ only

This is complete fiction and doesn't represent the real people etc.

*********

It was late with just the two of you in the practice studio while San filmed a short dance to upload on social media. Of course you had both checked that the camera couldn’t see you hidden away in the corner and he had to restart twice because he couldn’t help looking at you.

‘I think that one was good, can you check?’ he asked.

‘I already know it’s going to drive Atiny wild, but I’ll use my expert eye for you.’ You grabbed the phone and watched. He looked at you with nerves and expectation on his face.

‘It’s alright,’ you teased. ‘I might need a closer look at some of those moves though.’

‘Oh really,’ he said with a smirk, taking the phone out of your hand and gently crowding you against the mirror.

‘Hmmm, I think you need to practice the move with your hips a bit more,’ you said looking up into his darkening eyes. He pressed into you and leaned into your neck, breath catching on your ear as he whispered.

‘I think we both know I don’t need any improvement there,’ he said.

He abruptly pulled back and left you with the cold glass against your back but his smile told you this wasn’t over. Without a word he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him.

‘Where…’ you began.

He turned back and put his finger to his lips.

The building was empty at this time of night and you turned a corner towards the studio rooms. He pulled you through a door, and another, until you were in the sound booth.

‘Now I can make you scream my name and no one will hear.’

He pressed into you again, all teasing gone. His lips collided with yours and he grabbed your hips and started controlling your movements until your back hit the wall. His tongue stroking yours with need.

Never taking his mouth from yours his hands started to move up from your hips until they rested gently on the side of your breasts. He leaned back and pulled your top down enough that your breasts spilled out of the top and he bent his head to lick alongside the black lace of your bra.

He kissed along your collar bone as his hands rubbed over your hardening nipples and then roughly pulled the bra down.

‘Please Sannie, I want to feel you,’ you whispered into his hair as his tongue mapped your chest. He stood straight and pulled his white tshirt over his head. He pressed his forehead against yours as you ran your hands down his strong back. Near his waist you dug your nails in and he whimpered and ground his hips into yours.

San pulled at your underwear and you stepped out of it, your skirt bunching up around your hips as he ran his fingers along your thighs. You pushed forward trying to get him to touch you where you wanted and a small laugh came out of him just as the studio light came on behind him.

You both froze, San’s eyes wide at the change. You looked over his shoulder through the glass at the man sat behind the desk, watching. Time slowed and San cursed as he turned his head and saw Hongjoong sitting there.

You went to pull your top up and Hongjoong leaned forward to the mic and, pressing the intercom button, said one word.

‘Don’t.’

San spun around, eyes wide with shock.

‘Hyung?’ he started.

Hongjoong pressed the intercom again.

‘Show me how much she likes feeling your hands on her cunt.’ He let go of the button, leaned back and rested his hand on his lap where a bulge was already starting to show.

San turned back and looked at you, his eyes confused but you could tell he was not against the idea.You looked at him and then Hongjoong. Your eyes not leaving his, you nodded once.

Your hands ran down your skirt and gripped the hem, slowly bringing it up for the two men to see. San paused for a moment then glanced over his shoulder.

‘Show me,’ Hongjoong repeated through the speakers.

San looked you in the eyes and waited, you nodded again. Silently his hand came down between your legs, feeling how wet you were. His eyes fluttered closed as he slid his finger along your folds and slowed pressed in, finding your clit and rubbing slowly with just enough pressure to make your toes curl.

You gasped and your eyes shot up to Hongjoong’s face, watching you intently, something you had never had during such an intimate moment before. As your eyelids fluttered the first instruction came.

‘Put your fingers inside her, I want her to come at least once before she gets your cock.’

San stopped for half a second then slid his middle and ring fingers gently into you, your head falling to his neck as he waited for you to adjust. His skin smelled deeply like him mixed with sweat from the rehearsal earlier. You couldn’t help but flutter your lips against his bare skin as he started to pump his fingers in and out, his thumb catching your bud.

As your moans grew louder and you could hear the sound of your slick you looked up again at Hongjoong.

‘That’s it jagiya, keep your eyes on me.’

San leaned down and bit your neck as he hit that spot inside you perfectly with his fingers and you felt yourself shudder as your orgasm came over you.

‘San,’ you cried out while your eyes never left Hongjoongs.

The waves of your orgasm started to fade away and you grabbed San and kissed him, your tongues crashing into each other as you both got carried away by the new sensation of being watched together.

Your hands moved down to San’s grey sweat pants and pushed them down far enough for his hard cock to spring up onto his abdomen.

‘Pick her up,’ the voice through the intercom commanded.

San grabbed your ass and easily lifted you as you wrapped your legs around his hips. He pressed your back against the wall and you could feel his erection against you.

Your weight supported against the wall, you put your hands on San’s shoulders and looked at Hongjoong, waiting for him to tell you both what he wanted. He had undone his trousers and you could see him stroking himself slowly.

Getting impatient, San's head started to turn but Hongjoong pressed the intercom button and spoke.

‘Do you think she’s ready for you, Sannie?’

San nodded his head, his desperation to bury himself in you evident in his face.

‘Then have her.’

San immediately thrust into you, taking the air out of your lungs and you cried out. He waited for you to get your breath back and then pulled out almost all the way before slamming himself back into you.

You curled into him, your arms on his big shoulders and your hands in his hair but your face out to see Hongjoong, now starting to pant as his hand picked up speed. San was panting into your neck as he snapped into you.

‘Make her come on your cock,’ said Hongjoong, his voice tense as he tried to sound like he was still in control.

San reached his hand down in between you and rubbed your clit while he slowed down to a grind that hit you in the sweet spot.

It was too much, the stimulation from both San inside you and his hands, as well as Hongjoong’s eyes on you, precum beading on the head of his cock as he worked it. You couldn’t hear him but you could see his chest moving as he panted.

You leaned back against the wall and San bounced you on his cock a few more times before you shattered and screamed out. Just as your orgasm peaked you could see Hongjoong come apart and thick white ropes covered the skin of his stomach. Seeing him made you clench your walls, your orgasm prolonged, and San stuttered and groaned as he came inside you.

His skin hot, you looked at him and kissed him, ‘you were so good baby, you made me feel so good,’ you whispered to him between kisses. His dazed expression started to clear and he lifted you enough for you to take your legs from him and stand, leaning on the wall for support while he tucked himself back in his sweatpants.

His chest was glistening now, he was always so beautiful right after he came and he smiled as he caught you staring.

You spent a moment longer just looking at each other as you tried to sort your own clothes and then San leaned down to pick his tshirt up and you looked out through the glass.

The light was still on but Hongjoong was gone.

San looked up and noticed as well.

‘Let’s go home, maybe he’ll invite us back for part 2.’

‘I hope so,’ you said quietly.

[missyungi]

almost

Just something small I did :)

Choi San x Reader Warnings: suggestive content, teasing, mild sexual themes Summary: You just wanted to get him back for teasing you all day…

————————————

He had been blowing up your phone all day with selfies. Mirror selfies, car selfies, coffee selfies and most of them had his signature pout in them. At first, you ignored it. Then you rolled your eyes. But by the fourth… fifth… you knew exactly what he was doing.

He was teasing you. And it was working.

By the time you got home, your patience was already thin. He was in his games room like usual, probably acting like he’d done nothing at all. You walked down the hall, stopping in the doorway and leaning against the frame. You crossed your arms, cleared your throat and waited.

He slowly turned around, the biggest grin on his face, dimples appearing on his cheeks. Your expression softened for a second, you loved those dimples. Then you remembered why you came here. You straightened, glaring at him.  

“What?!” he says, still grinning, like he’s completely innocent.

“You know what,” you reply, pushing off the doorway and walking toward him slowly. Every step intentional. You stop just in front of him, staring him down.

“Oh…. The photos,” he says, smile widening. “I just wanted to remind you what I look like.”

Your jaw tightens slightly. Of course, he did. You step forward, closing the gap between you. Legs brushing against each other now. A thought crosses your mind, if he can tease, so can you.

A small, sly smile forms before you reach forward, placing your hand on his thigh. He freezes. His eyes drop to your hand, then flick back up to your face, something shifting in his expression now. Less cocky now. More aware.

“I don’t think I could forget what you look like, Sannie,” you murmur softly. “I think you had something else in mind.”

Your fingers move slowly, dragging along his thigh. He inhales sharply.

“Maybe,” he manages, but his voice isn’t nearly as steady anymore.

You smile and slide your hand higher, pausing deliberately at the top of his thigh. He takes a shaky breath in, and you continue, guiding your hand over his stomach, over his chest, until your fingers rest gently against his face.

Your fingers slip into his hair for a moment, tightening just enough to tilt his head back slightly so he’s forced to look at you. He groans and you slyly smile as you kiss the side of his mouth. You release his hair and put your hand back on his face. His eyes flutter shut instantly, leaning into your touch. A soft satisfied sigh leaves him, a dimple appearing again. You brush your thumb, over it, watching the way he melts under something so simple.

It almost makes you soften. Almost. Instead, you trace your way back down, slower this time, feeling the way he reacts to your touch, the shiver that runs through him because of you.

“Maybe?” you repeat, your voice quieter now, closer. “Maybe you wanted to get me worked up?”

Circling your fingers on his thigh again, you tease him and you watch as his muscles twitch. You’re dangerously close and he wriggles under you, nodding quickly. You pull your hand away. The sound he lets out, half frustration, half need, goes straight through you. His eyes meet yours again, darker now. Warmer. Hungrier.

“I thought so,” you say.

Before he can respond, you move, climbing onto his lap, facing him. The moment you settle, you feel it. The tension. The heat. Him. Your breath catches just slightly, but you don’t let it show. Your hands rest on his shoulders as you lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“Hard already,” you whisper against his skin. “I’ve hardly done anything.”

He lets out a shaky breath, hands finding your waist almost instantly. He pulls you closer. Too close. You let him. For a moment. Then your hands move to his face, guiding his gaze back to yours as you start to move your hips slowly. His eyes close again, a quiet, helpless sound slipping from his lips. You feel it, the way he reacts, the way his grip tightens, the way he tries not to move too much. It only makes you want to push further. So, you do.

You keep moving, just enough to wind him up further, watching every reaction, every shift in his breathing. Your hand slips into his hair again as you lean in and kiss him. He doesn’t hesitate. He kisses you back instantly, hungry, desperate, like he’s been waiting all day for this. Your breath mixes with his, the kiss growing heavier, messier. You feel him press up against you, chasing more, needing more. But you tighten your fingers slightly in his hair, it makes him falter just enough for you to stay in control.

Then you slow it. Just slightly. Not enough to break it, just enough to make him notice. He makes a quiet sound against your lips, chasing you. That’s when you stop. Completely

No movement, no kiss. You start to pull back but his hand comes up quickly, catching the back of your head, keeping you close, like he’s not ready to let go just yet.

His breathing is uneven now. His lips press softly against yours, forming that pout you know too well. You feel it more than you see it. He lingers for a moment… then slowly he lets go.

You lean back just enough to look at him. His chest rises and falls rapidly. His lips are swollen and slightly parted. His eyes heavy and searching yours like he hasn’t quite caught up yet. He looks wrecked.

“Why did you stop?” he asks quietly. You tilt your head, like you’re thinking about it.

Then you shrug. “No reason.” You slip off his lap, ignoring the way his hands linger for a second longer than necessary.

Your eyes flick down briefly, his grey trackpants making the effect you had on him very obvious. A small giggle escapes you. “Just wanted to get you back.”

You turn and walk toward the door, your heartbeat still a little too fast but a smile tugging your lips. Just before leaving, you glance over your shoulder.

He hasn’t moved. He’s still sitting there. Still breathless. Lips pouty, hair slightly messy, completely dishevelled.

You grin, giving him a small wink.

“My work here is done.”

And with that, you walk out, leaving him exactly how you wanted him

[mingiwonkaa]

fractured

mingi x reader (adrenaline au)

cw; MDNI, light choking, brief gun mention, praise, manipulation, swearing, thigh straddling, dirty talk, just some good old fashioned fucking, angst kinda?

word count; 2.8k

AN; all fiction, nothing wrote here represents anyone in real life. idk, I might do a follow up to this, i'm not sure yet.

--

Rot clung to the walls, leaving a stench in the air that caused you to pull the scarf further up over you face. What was once a thriving nightclub, was now a den for vagrants, fugitives and rats that were riddled with infection. Glass crunched under your boots, the sound echoing off the stripped-bare walls. Beams hung from the ceiling, slanting in every direction, it was impossible to not catch yourself on one of them. Inching forward, avoiding any unsuspecting traps laid out, your eyes catching the sunlight attempting to breakthrough the slits in the boarded up windows.

Eventually, you reached a sloping corridor, plunging further into the darkness. Here, the rot smell had dissipated, replaced by the heavy scent of copper. Swallowing the nerves that burst inside of you, pushing aside the knowledge of exactly what that copper smell was, you continued walking. Stopping after a few feet, eyes cast downward to the set of steps leading to the underbelly of the derelict nightclub.

Closing your eyes, hands balling up as you counted to ten under your breath; a skill you'd honed in on to calm the ever lurking anxiety. This mission shouldn't have been yours. Hongjoong shouldn't have sent you here. Encouraging words tingled in your head, Joong's assurance you would do this task with justice. Of course, you were desperate for his approval and praise, so you accepted. Despite the looming uneasiness that had settled into the pit of your stomach.

Silence wrapped around you, almost suffocating as you took your first step down to the basement. Terrority you should never be marching into. Stories had been whispered about him. Talked about like some kind of taboo topic. You'd never seen him, of course. He'd left before you'd joined Hongjoong's squad. San had mentioned him a few times, passing comments in conversations with others. Asshole, is how he'd referred to him. Justified apparently though, with his competence and skills. 6ft and held nothing but power, intelligence and masses of unresolved anger.

Each step you took further into the darkness, only multiplied the apprehension that was bubbling in your stomach. The gun in your hostler rested heavy against your hip, a reminder that you could use it if needed. Although, you knew you wouldn't get the chance to. He would have you dead before you even thought about using your gun. Reaching the bottom, feet landing in a puddle of dank water as you cast your eyes over at the door before you, light spilling out from underneath. Taking one last deep breath, your fingers clasped around the scuffed door handle and you pushed it open.

Bones cracked.

Gurgling rang out.

Body discarded to the ground.

Motionless, you stood in the threshold. Fingers clutching onto the door handle still, unable to unfurl themselves from it. Eyes were glued to the scene that was presented in front of you. Blood seeped along the cracks in the ground, chunks of flesh scattered here and there; one lifeless corpse staring up at the ceiling. Urge to vomit was strong, but you held your ground. You'd never witnessed anything like this back home. Then again, you were aware Hongjoong had kept you quite... sheltered. Finally, you lifted your gaze to the asset that your leader was desperate to reclaim.

Song Mingi.

"I didn't mean to interrupt, but I was sent here by Hong-"

Raising a hand, silencing you immediately. Piercing gaze zeroed in on you, facial expression hard. Stoic, unreadable, not allowing you guess his next move.

"You can run back to the Captain and tell him to stop sending his pets to come and retrieve me."

For a moment, you were glad you were still clutching the door, because the deep rumble of his voice, caught you completely off guard. While you registered what you'd heard, he paused his speech, icy blue strands of hair falling across his intense gaze. Pointing into the shadows that skulked around the chamber, he spoke again.

"His last messenger didn't make it back."

Not even entertaining the idea of looking where he was pointing, not wanting to see any more of Mingi's sheer brutality. Letting your hand fall from the door handle, you stood your ground, remembering the reason you were sent here.

"I'm under direct orders that I'm unable to leave here until you agree to return to Hongjoong's squad."

A statement you felt was about to change the way he was viewing you. It was as if you'd just handed him some kind of new toy to play with. Except, you were definitely the toy. Charge of electricity sizzled through the now heated air. Hairs raised along the nape of your neck at the way Mingi altered his demeanour.

"Is that so?"

Tossing the rag behind him that he'd been using to wipe the blood from his hands, stepping carelessly over the body that lay on the floor. Footsteps trailing bloody prints as he approached you, eyes never taking their gaze off you. Unknowingly, you'd back yourself against the mould ridden wall, knocking off whatever weapons had been hanging there. Mingi was before you, squashing the space that had been between you. Palms slamming against the wall either side of your head, confining you to the makeshift cage he'd trapped you in. Avoiding his eyes, you kept your own gaze trained on his chest. Any confidence you'd felt when you'd attempted to stand your ground had immediately vanished.

"Do you think you're capable of making me leave with you, sweetheart?"

The pet name was a clear shot at mocking you, a hum of amusement rippling through his tone.

"I'm trained in negotiating."

Still not meeting his eye, you winced internally at the pathetic reply you gave him. It still didn't make sense, out of everyone, why Hongjoong had sent you to do this. Calloused fingertips seized your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Air had been sucked out of your lungs as he glared down at you, something in his eyes was different though.

"Joong sent you here because he'd thought I'd fall to my knees for a pretty little gift."

Something about the way he spoke the words, caused a chill to bleed into your bones. Keeping your chin secure in his grasp, he bent his down, lips skimming your earlobe.

"You were a pawn in his game, an offering."

Nausea blasted through you at the word offering. A term that held such significance among people in this economy. Leaders sent offerings in hope for weapons, power, alliances. Offerings weren't supposed to make it back to their home turf.

"Neogitater, huh?"

Mingi's voice was a distant muffled taunt, his lips still at your ear. Implications behind the word negotiator were a lot less innocent as you had once thought. Joong had sent you here to seduce Mingi into coming back.

"Yeah, he screwed you over."

Releasing your chin, he stood back, allowing warm air to swim between you both. All the praise he'd given you, the encouraging touches, promises full of hope. Manipulation in it's finest form. You wanted to deny it, exclaim that Mingi was wrong, that he was the manipulator. However, all of it was true and deep in your heart you knew it. Everything from Mingi's expression to the way he'd spoken, you could feel the sincerity, because it was crystal clear to you now that Mingi had been a victim of Joong's manipulation too.

"What did he do to make you leave?"

Unsure of where this wave of boldness came from, studying Mingi's body language as you asked the million dollar question. Nudging the body on the floor with his foot, he paused, slowly glancing back you. Undoubtedly, you'd asked a question that should warrant your immediate death.

"Either you're going to kill me or I'm going to die when I return back to Joong, so at least this way I get something worth dying for."

Shrugging at the situation, keeping your voice even as you arched your eyebrows at him. Smallest twitch of his lips proved to you that you had subsequently, for the moment, won him over. Turning his back on you, he walked over to the wooden chair, seating himself as he cast his gaze back to you. Manspreading, arms folded across his chest as he adjusted the rings on his fingers.

"Exiled me because I wouldn't bow down to the order he wanted me to complete."

Confusion masked your face as you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

"Joong is a very specific leader. Takes what he wants, regardless of the consequences. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a heartless brute. Last order he gave me was one that would have left innocent civilians dead just so he could prove to his sworn enemy that he was powerful."

Mingi blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair and meeting your eyes. Ignorance had been bliss when it had to come any of the fighting and war strategies Hongjoong had been conducting. Again, he'd kept you sheltered so you were never completely in the know.

"Everyone talks about you as if-"

"I'm some rouge who decided to cause havoc and run?"

Finishing the sentence with sarcastic amusement, Mingi rolled his eyes.

"Hongjoong loves to narrate a story where he's the hero."

Nausea still rolled around your stomach, ice melting into your veins as you took in everything Mingi was relaying to you. For years you'd been lied to, manipulated, moulded into the perfect pawn.

"Why ask me to come and get you? Surely he knew you'd never come back."

This question earned a shrug out of Mingi.

"He must be getting desperate in his tactics against Seonghwa."

Silence fell over you both, just the buzzing from the dimming lightbulb above you. Overwhelming sense of betrayal and hurt was gripping at you, clawing at your insides. No matter what you did now, it was going to end in death. There wasn't any way Mingi was going to let you walk out of here, especially when the last person hadn't made it out alive. And if you returned to Joong? Your head would be on a pike for everyone else to see.

"Can I make one request for when you kill me? Don't break my bones like that guy-"

Nodding your head to the corpse on the floor, wincing at the way his neck was at funny angle.

"Just make it quick. I'm squeamish."

Beat of silence.

And then Mingi rose from his chair, expression once again stoic. For a second time, you backed yourself up against the wall. Good, something to support your balance as you waited for your imminent death. Closing your eyes, calming your nerves, hoping he took your request seriously. Air around your changed, pumping with an unfamiliar charge. Weight lifted from the holster that was strapped to you, your gun being removed. Barrell of the gun grazed along your jawline, before it was placed underneath your chin.

"I'm not going to kill you."

Eyes fluttering open as you stared up at Mingi dumbfounded. Softness was faint in his gaze, but it was there.

"I'd rather not see your blood spilled all over the floor-"

Tossing the gun onto the floor, he once again had you trapped against the wall.

"Instead I'd rather fuck you senseless."

Lips crashing against yours, rough and heated. Hands palming at your hips as he pulled you into him, bodies slamming into each other. Mingi wasn't gentle in the slightest, his evident arousal was shown in the way he picked you up. Involuntarily, your legs hooked themselves around his waist. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, inciting an unexpected moan from you which in turn, provoked a growl from him. Carrying you across the room, sitting back in the chair as you straddled his lap, hands now shedding the jacket you wearing.

"You're so fucking special, I hope you realise that."

Mingi rasped, tone thick of lust as he captured your lips again. Fingers creeping under your shirt, shivers breaking out from you as he ran them along your bare skin. Other hand firmly planted to your hip, keeping you there as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. Sucking at your skin, bruising the soft flesh as his fingers brushed against your ribs. Markings from his rings marking you, giving you a weird sense of pleasure. Whines fell from your mouth, desperate and pathetic as he sucked harder on your neck, fingers now tugging your bra down and finding your nipples.

"That's it, baby. Keep making those noises for me, let me hear how much you want me."

Muffled praise radiated against your throat as he moved his lips further along your collarbone. Thumb and forefinger rolling your nipple between them, causing you to buck your hips against his restricted cock. Mingi's head fell back at the friction, string of curses groaned out.

"Fuck-"

Impatience exploded out of him, standing up while still holding onto you with a deathly grip. Dropping you down and bending you over his makeshift counter, nothing but unbridled need swirling out of him.

"Hands on the counter, widen your legs, baby."

Demands you willingly obeyed. Opening your legs more, laying your palms flat on the dusty surface, Mingi wasted no time, relinquishing some control he'd been exuding over his horny state. Sound of him unbuckling his pants sent the most ridiculous thrill through you.

"I'm not fucking you because you were Joong's shitty attempt to bring me back; I'm fucking you because you've drove me crazy since the moment you stepped in here."

With that admission, Mingi caressed your ass cheeks before giving a sharp hard slap and skimming his cock against your soaked entrance. Bracing yourself, waiting for the feel of him filling you, holding your breath. Mingi teased for a few seconds longer, causing you to buck against him.

"Oh, needy are we?"

Chuckle emanated from him before he pushed himself against you, a gasp ripping from you. Fingers digging into your hipbone, skin stretching over his knuckles as he buried himself further in you. Lungs on fire as your breathing increased, your body adjusting to him.

"Come on, pretty girl, breathe- that's it- fuck, you feel that? Feel how you were made for me-"

Mingi's husky praise heated your skin, leaning forward pressing his lips against the nape of your neck as he started thrusting. Already cock drunk on him and he'd only just started fucking you. Slow, he started slow. Drawing himself in and out, kissing along your skin and then losing the self restraint he had.

"Mingi-"

Name falling from your mouth in a cry as he upped the pace and rhythm.

"Say it again."

"Mingi- oh- Mingi-"

Hands curling on the surface, wanting something to grab at. Head falling back, catching sight of Mingi as he fucked you senseless; just like he said he would. Eyes boring into yours, staring into your soul as he claimed you with everything he had. Fingers snaking around the base of your throat as you arched your back, pressure applied to the right spot as he fucked you harder.

"Don't close your eyes, keep watching me, I want you to see who's making you feel this fucking good."

Both of you panting, bodies dripping in heat and sweat under the clothes you still had on. Hand around your throat squeezing harder as his eyes darkened, almost black, reaching his peak.

"Mingi I'm so close- please-"

"Shit, jagiya, you don't have to beg me for anything-"

It was almost a whine from Mingi as he let go of your throat and wrapped his hand around your hair, instead. His words of encouragement caused you to clench around his cock, letting go and drenching him. An animalistic growl rippled through him, holding you securely as he came.

Stillness drifted down over you both, the air ripe with heat and filled with the sounds of your erratic breathing. Steadily, Mingi withdrew himself from you, grimacing slightly as he left you empty. As you attempted to let your body ride the aftershocks, unaware that Mingi had found a clean rag and started to clean you up. Blush creeped along your cheeks, a very different kind of heat to the one you had just experienced. Not facing him yet, you pulled your underwear and jeans up, making yourself somewhat decent. Fingers brushing the tender skin on your neck where he'd left his very prominent mark.

Awkwardness washed over you as you tucked your hair behind your ear, turning to finally face him.

"Thoroughly fucked and and shy? Aren't you adorable."

Amusement laced his tone as his large hand reached out, fingers interlocking around your wrist and tugging you into him. Tilting your chin with a tenderness that was unexpected, Mingi studied your expression before he spoke.

"I'll go back to Joong-"

Dramatically, he paused, milking the moment.

"If you come with me and help me take him down."

[mingiwonkaa]

𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥

yunho x reader (stalker au)

cw; MDNI, dom!yunho, stalking, holding hostage, bound, lovers to enemies to lovers, foreplay in front of a mirror, light degrading, teasing CNC.

word count; 1.7k

AN; some dark little drabble because sometimes I like writing a little twisted shit. not affiliated with ateez, all fictional.

--

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;

No, but there was you, who was frantically trying to free yourself of the rope that was binding your wrists together, cementing you to the chair. A satin cloth tied delicately around your mouth, ensuring not a single solitary noise came from you.

Everything had happened in slow motion. You had been lost in the Christmas music that had been filtering through the house, admiring the handiwork of the hand wrapped presents under the tree. Then, out of nowhere, a gloved hand clamped down on your mouth, clouding your vision, a familiar cologne had invaded your senses until you succumbed to the darkness. Nothing. Until now.

Twinkling colours of red, blue and green cascaded down the walls, the crackling voice of Bing Crosby echoing from the radio as you sat bound to the chair, a sensation of dread drowning you.

Because deep down you knew who the cause of this was. And, as if it was him, you were royally fucked beyond any recognition.

As if he had been waiting for the moment you came back to reality, he appeared out of thin air, manifesting out of the shadows.

A brief fling with Jeong Yunho was the worst decision you'd ever made.

Unhinged. Psychotic. Delusional. Twisted.

"You really should look at getting your locks fixed, anyone could just break in here, jagiya."

Splintered memories jabbed at your mind, reminding you of all the suffering Yunho had caused. Torment and suffering was wove through his fibres, it was the only way he was able to exert any type of control.

"Are you convincing yourself that I'm the villain, again?" Mild boredom coated his tone as he sat at the opposite end of the table. Jacket already draped over the back of the chair, making himself at home.

"You are the villain."

Instantly, you closed your eyes, annoyed at yourself for giving into his baiting straight off the bat. Without even opening your eyes, you knew the smirk that would be gracing his lips, arms folded across his chest in triumph. It was all too familiar.

"I love when your walls break around me, despite how hard you try."

"Fuck you." But it was mumbled from the cloth still secured around your mouth.

Eyes flashing open, you narrowed your glare at him as you hurled out the insult. One point in your life, you'd loved him. Brief as it was. Then things changed and you ran. But running never solved anything.

"Missed me that much?" Yunho asked, arching his eyebrows as he leaned forward, elbows propped on the table as he watched you with an overwhelming amount of arrogance. Playing games like this was what he thrived off, he got a kick out riling you up, causing you nothing but rage.

"You didn't exactly make things easy, baby. Really went and made sure you were hidden away from me, didn't you?"

Yunho stretched his arms out, rolling up his sleeves, before glancing back at you. Almost instantly, the atmosphere had changed. Panic had ripped through my body at the sinking realisation that he'd come here with a plan. Of course he had. He was always prepared.

A summer fling that had turned into a nightmare. No romantic ending. Just an asshole with obsessive and crazed tendencies. Exhibit A. He'd evidently stalked you and broke into your new home.

Yunho had moved swiftly, now at your side, plucking the satin cloth from your mouth one move.

"Let's skip the monologue, you always did talk too much."

A habit of provoking Yunho was something that you had never really shook off.

"You didn't mind the talking when I was fucking you."

Surprise stole your breath, causing your lips to part as the heat sprinkled your cheeks. Despite your practiced hostility towards him, his words still managed to unravel you.

"It's okay, I know how I make you feel. How I've always made you feel, jagiya. No matter where you run to, I will always find you."

There was a softness in his tone, which only you knew, meant nothing. It was the weight behind his words, the darkness, the implication that you would never escape his grasp. No matter how fast you ran.

Fingers skimmed your jawline, his touch sparking the unavoidable heat inside of you. Yunho pressed his fingertips into your skin, forcing you to look at him, to be trapped under his gaze.

"And now I have you again, you're going nowhere." Eyes hardening as he bent his head down, forehead brushing against yours with the lightest of touches.

"You're delusional."

It was a barely as whisper, but it was loud enough for him to hear.

"And what does that make you?"

Bound hands balled into fists at Yunho's retaliation. A smirk still planted across his lips as he watched the clear fire light in you at his accusation.

"Be in denial all you want, but we both know despite my supposed faults, you still want me."

Shaking your head, ready to defend your sanity and integrity- but that was short lived. Yunho's lips grazed your own, his fingers curling around the base of your throat. Lost in the haze of his mouth capturning yours, you were taken off guard as his free hand dipped into the waistband of your jeans, fingers easily finding the spot he knew so well.

"That's my girl, wet already." A hum of approval murmured against your lips as he traced his fingers across your wet sensitivity. Involuntary shudders rocketed through you, the kiss deepening without much fight from you. That was until Yunho's fingers withdrew from you, a sharp emptiness shaking you. A deep chuckle ghosted your lips as he straightened up, tilting his head as he remained towering of you.

"Point proven. You'll never stop wanting me."

Unbridled anger radiated through you, rolling out in waves. But all it did was fuel him more. Yunho ran a hand through his hair, strands falling across his eyes.

Silence fell over you both, the radio barely audible with the tension blocking everything out. Without saying a single word, your bound hands were freed, dropping from their painful position. Adrenaline was seconds away from kicking in, seconds too late. Yunho swept you off your feet, propping you over his shoulder with no effort.

Curled fists pounded at his back as he carried you upstairs, letting you work yourself up with the anger that was flowing out of you.

"Keep fighting, jagiya. You know how it makes me feel." Yunho alluded to your resistance, his voice piped with amusement as he nudged the bedroom open and flopped you down on the mattress.

"I hate you."

"It felt like it." Yunho wiggled his fingers, a smirking curving his lips upwards.

"Let's skip the monologue, shall we? You alway did talk too much."

Your own words thrown back at you in the most patronising way as he wasted no time pulling you back up off the bed. One hand grasping your wrists behind your back, his rings digging into your skin. Dark eyes fell across your face, his gaze burning into you as he spun you around to face the mirror.

Lips at your ear, his other hand snaking its way down your stomach and into your jeans once more. More than anything you wanted to pull your gaze away from the mirror, to break the connection between you both. But, you just couldn't.

Every sound fell away, leaving only the hitching of your breath as his fingers brushed against your sweet spot. All the fight in you was dwindling, the storm of rage washing away with the memories of how your body was so responsive to Yunho's touch. His assertion of who owned you.

"Eyes on me, jagiya. Watch yourself cum all over my fingers. I want you to face the truth. You crave me."

Yunho's words slashed at your rational thinking, your eyes half lidded as his fingers worked against you. Thumb gentle against your clit as your body trembled.

Releasing your hands, he seized your throat, applying pressure as his eyes locked onto your eyes in the mirror. His fingers became relentless, fucking you with a pace that was driving you wild.

"Tell me, who do you belong to?" Only one answer was the right one. Yunho's question more of a growl than anything.

You didn't want to give in. You couldn't. Shaking your head as he continued curling his fingers against your sensitive spot, his hand applied ever more pressure around your neck, causing a breath to escape you.

"Who. Do. You. Belong. To?" Each word enunciated with growing frustration.

It was a losing battle. You knew that. Reaching your peak, you could feel your knees starting to buckle, the heat spreading throughout your body.

"I'm- not-"

Pressure was further applied to your throat, almost skirting with the threat of stopping your ability to breathe. Yunho wasn't trying to get under you skin now, he was forcing you to say the words you were adamant to never admit again.

"If I have to ask again-"

Jolt of fear and panic marred with embarrassing arousal zapped through you at his warning. You were so close, his fingers unwavering as he continued.

Fuck.

"You."

Whimpering the word out as you came undone over his fingers, your pride disintegrated as you coated his fingers. Despite your admission, Yunho's hand stayed locked around your throat, his other freeing itself out of your jeans. Shame and humiliation drenched you as he leaned his head against yours, peeking out from behind you as he stared at you in the mirrors reflection.

"That wasn't so hard was it, baby." A mocking murmur brushed against your ear, a taunting reminder that he did in fact own you. Bringing his fingers to your lips, tapping once and silently ordering you to open. Dazed and defeated, you obeyed, opening your mouth and letting him slide his fingers in.

"Taste that? It's your denial and submission. Mm, so sweet."

Words of arrogant victory slapped you hard in the face.

The reality of it all was that this was just the beginning.

And you now were his, forever and always.

[mingiwonkaa]

wrecked

yunho x reader (vampire au)

cw; MDNI, dom!yunho, enemies to lovers, forced marriage, hate fucking, light biting, light choking.

word count; 1.3k

AN; vampire yunho drabble, hate fucking and some enemies to lovers fun. not affiliated with ateez, all fictional. (credit to @ghostfameee for the concept art)

--

Hatred is said to be a strong word. That it should only be used when you truly loathe something or someone with every fibre of your being. And that is why you used that word when describing your emotions towards Yunho.

Arrogant. Infuriating. Vexing.

Claimed he was untouchable, that no-one could compare to him. His inflated ego did nothing but rub you the wrong way. But then again, when you're a 400 year old vampire with all the control in the world, you'd be a cocky asshole too.

"Your fiancé requests your presence."

Your fists balled up at the sentence that cut through the air. Fiancé. Being engaged to the man you despised was its own form of torture. It was the universes cruel joke on you. Karma for something you were unaware you had done. Why else would the stars align to have you be the only human in existence to be able quench the thirst of the most powerful vampire... ever.

"Tell him he will have to wait." Your reply was curt to one of the many people Yunho had employed in the stupidly big mansion you now lived in. All you wanted to do was finish the emails you were writing to family members, updates on the fictional vacation they thought you were taking. A vacation that will turn into a year of travelling... and then what other excuse you can think of as to why you'll never see them again.

"Miss-"

"If you're about to tell me not to keep him waiting, I am not going to listen."

An exasperated sigh was huffed by the figure that was at the threshold of the room, before they disappeared, leaving you alone with your thoughts. That didn't last long. Actually, it didn't even last a minute.

"You truly do enjoy going against everything I ask, don't you?"

Yunho wasted no time striding across the room and leaning against the dark mahogany desk where you were trying to concentrate. Arms folded over his chest, the suit he was wearing didn't budge with his fluid movements.

"I'm busy."

"I'll just wait until you're finished. After all, I do have all the time in the world." A lazy smirk toyed around the corners of his mouth as he spoke, causing a familiar rush of annoyance to surge through you. Slamming the laptop shut, you tilted your head up in evident frustration, pinning him with an icy gaze.

"Such a fiery temper, darling." He mocked, slender fingers reaching out and catching the stray strands of your hair. Between his thumb and forefinger, your hair lay, his other hand drumming his fingers along your closed laptop.

"We have important business to discuss. Mainly our wedding." Yunho could not help the smirk that grew along his lips as he uttered the word wedding. Another wave of rage rippled through you as you plucked your hair from his grasp and stood up.

"I do not care about this wedding, or you, or any of this." You snapped, turning your back on him.

All it took was one swift touch from Yunho and your back collided with the bookcase, soft but enough to leave an impact on your ego. Both of his hands were planted firmly above your head, his height towering lengths over yours.

"I've been lenient with your behaviour. I've understood you're in a tough predicament, but you are pushing my patience now and if you continue doing that, I have no qualms in breaking your resolve and showing you that this fight you're putting up is nothing but a facade."

Silence stretched between you both, your mind short circuiting at the words that Yunho spoke. It was nothing like the playful and arrogant quips you were used to. Shift in his tone and demeanour had showed you that he was indeed no longer tolerating your anger and indifference towards him.

"This isn't a facade." Was all you had the capacity to bite back. Those words were like a red flag to a bull. Yunho tilted his head, dark eyes burning into yours as he brought one hand down to the base of your neck. His cold palm pressed against your warm flesh, involuntary goosebumps breaking out along your skin.

"No? Then why can I hear your heart beating erratically? Hm? I can hear your blood rushing and feel your pulse racing, my love." Yunho hummed, closing his eyes and revelling in all the different sensations he was feeling from you.

Suddenly, your brain started to become fuzzy. As if being this close to him, closer than you had ever been before was affecting your ability to think rationally. Or, it was your facade crumbling. No. No, he was wrong-

"Keep fighting with yourself, it only makes the moment you break even sweeter." Yunho murmured, fingers now clasping your neck as he brushed his lips against your jawline. A gentle kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth as he squeezed your throat, his thumb tracing circles over your wild pulse point.

"I've been patient, but now I'm done. You pushed just a little too hard and now I'm taking what's mine, and that my love, is you."

Yunho's lips collided with yours, hard but tender. His other hand curling around your waist and bringing you closer to him. Bodies meshed together as his tongue traced the seam of your lips, fangs nipping at your bottom lip, wanting more from you.

Unravelling any restraint you had, you let Yunho kiss you deeper, your owns hands now finding themselves running over the collar of his suit jacket and grasping his hair.

"I hate you." You rasped out against his lips, heat flooding your core as he slid his hand down into the waistband of your jeans. Slender fingers teasing the edge of your underwear.

"Mm, is that why you're soaking wet?"

A strangled gasp broke past your lips as Yunho's fingers delved into your core, curling instantly to feel just how much you wanted him.

"Yunho-"

"I'm the villain in your story and yet you're moaning my name like a good little wife."

"I'm- not-not- your wife-yet" As hard as you tried, all it sounded like was breathy whines falling from your lips, but Yunho heard every word you strained out.

"You're as good as, love."

No matter how much you wanted to deny it, he had you all figured out. You hated him because you couldn't resist him. All the bravado was because you didn't want to be seen as easy or weak for falling for him. For being wrecked by him. His fingers worked relentlessly against your core, thumb brushing your clit as you whimpered out.

Another kiss, another squeeze of your throat. Fangs trailing up and down your neck as he grazed your skin. It was there. The high you were chasing, the self control you had disintegrating as you reached your climax. As you were nearing your peak, Yunho gently pricked your throat with his fangs, a sizzle of adrenaline running through you as he sank deep into your neck.

Ectasy took took over as Yunho fucked you with his fingers, feeding off your arousal and blood; ecstasy choking you both.

"Yunho, I- ah-" Words jumbled together as you whimpered and moaned with the pleasure you were being smacked with.

"That's it, show me how you hate me." He coaxed against your neck, withdrawing his fangs and licking a stripe up your throat, clearing up the blood. His words pushed you over the edge, causing you to come undone and moan his name like your life depended on it.

Yunho moved slightly, leaning back, watching you with hooded eyes. His free hand seizing your chin, forefinger ghosting over your lips as he withdrew his soaking fingers from your underwear. Without a single word, he sucked his fingers clean without breaking eye contact.

"My little wife tastes good."

[mingiwonkaa]

fractured

mingi x reader (adrenaline au)

cw; MDNI, light choking, brief gun mention, praise, manipulation, swearing, thigh straddling, dirty talk, just some good old fashioned fucking, angst kinda?

word count; 2.8k

AN; all fiction, nothing wrote here represents anyone in real life. idk, I might do a follow up to this, i'm not sure yet.

--

Rot clung to the walls, leaving a stench in the air that caused you to pull the scarf further up over you face. What was once a thriving nightclub, was now a den for vagrants, fugitives and rats that were riddled with infection. Glass crunched under your boots, the sound echoing off the stripped-bare walls. Beams hung from the ceiling, slanting in every direction, it was impossible to not catch yourself on one of them. Inching forward, avoiding any unsuspecting traps laid out, your eyes catching the sunlight attempting to breakthrough the slits in the boarded up windows.

Eventually, you reached a sloping corridor, plunging further into the darkness. Here, the rot smell had dissipated, replaced by the heavy scent of copper. Swallowing the nerves that burst inside of you, pushing aside the knowledge of exactly what that copper smell was, you continued walking. Stopping after a few feet, eyes cast downward to the set of steps leading to the underbelly of the derelict nightclub.

Closing your eyes, hands balling up as you counted to ten under your breath; a skill you'd honed in on to calm the ever lurking anxiety. This mission shouldn't have been yours. Hongjoong shouldn't have sent you here. Encouraging words tingled in your head, Joong's assurance you would do this task with justice. Of course, you were desperate for his approval and praise, so you accepted. Despite the looming uneasiness that had settled into the pit of your stomach.

Silence wrapped around you, almost suffocating as you took your first step down to the basement. Terrority you should never be marching into. Stories had been whispered about him. Talked about like some kind of taboo topic. You'd never seen him, of course. He'd left before you'd joined Hongjoong's squad. San had mentioned him a few times, passing comments in conversations with others. Asshole, is how he'd referred to him. Justified apparently though, with his competence and skills. 6ft and held nothing but power, intelligence and masses of unresolved anger.

Each step you took further into the darkness, only multiplied the apprehension that was bubbling in your stomach. The gun in your hostler rested heavy against your hip, a reminder that you could use it if needed. Although, you knew you wouldn't get the chance to. He would have you dead before you even thought about using your gun. Reaching the bottom, feet landing in a puddle of dank water as you cast your eyes over at the door before you, light spilling out from underneath. Taking one last deep breath, your fingers clasped around the scuffed door handle and you pushed it open.

Bones cracked.

Gurgling rang out.

Body discarded to the ground.

Motionless, you stood in the threshold. Fingers clutching onto the door handle still, unable to unfurl themselves from it. Eyes were glued to the scene that was presented in front of you. Blood seeped along the cracks in the ground, chunks of flesh scattered here and there; one lifeless corpse staring up at the ceiling. Urge to vomit was strong, but you held your ground. You'd never witnessed anything like this back home. Then again, you were aware Hongjoong had kept you quite... sheltered. Finally, you lifted your gaze to the asset that your leader was desperate to reclaim.

Song Mingi.

"I didn't mean to interrupt, but I was sent here by Hong-"

Raising a hand, silencing you immediately. Piercing gaze zeroed in on you, facial expression hard. Stoic, unreadable, not allowing you guess his next move.

"You can run back to the Captain and tell him to stop sending his pets to come and retrieve me."

For a moment, you were glad you were still clutching the door, because the deep rumble of his voice, caught you completely off guard. While you registered what you'd heard, he paused his speech, icy blue strands of hair falling across his intense gaze. Pointing into the shadows that skulked around the chamber, he spoke again.

"His last messenger didn't make it back."

Not even entertaining the idea of looking where he was pointing, not wanting to see any more of Mingi's sheer brutality. Letting your hand fall from the door handle, you stood your ground, remembering the reason you were sent here.

"I'm under direct orders that I'm unable to leave here until you agree to return to Hongjoong's squad."

A statement you felt was about to change the way he was viewing you. It was as if you'd just handed him some kind of new toy to play with. Except, you were definitely the toy. Charge of electricity sizzled through the now heated air. Hairs raised along the nape of your neck at the way Mingi altered his demeanour.

"Is that so?"

Tossing the rag behind him that he'd been using to wipe the blood from his hands, stepping carelessly over the body that lay on the floor. Footsteps trailing bloody prints as he approached you, eyes never taking their gaze off you. Unknowingly, you'd back yourself against the mould ridden wall, knocking off whatever weapons had been hanging there. Mingi was before you, squashing the space that had been between you. Palms slamming against the wall either side of your head, confining you to the makeshift cage he'd trapped you in. Avoiding his eyes, you kept your own gaze trained on his chest. Any confidence you'd felt when you'd attempted to stand your ground had immediately vanished.

"Do you think you're capable of making me leave with you, sweetheart?"

The pet name was a clear shot at mocking you, a hum of amusement rippling through his tone.

"I'm trained in negotiating."

Still not meeting his eye, you winced internally at the pathetic reply you gave him. It still didn't make sense, out of everyone, why Hongjoong had sent you to do this. Calloused fingertips seized your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Air had been sucked out of your lungs as he glared down at you, something in his eyes was different though.

"Joong sent you here because he'd thought I'd fall to my knees for a pretty little gift."

Something about the way he spoke the words, caused a chill to bleed into your bones. Keeping your chin secure in his grasp, he bent his down, lips skimming your earlobe.

"You were a pawn in his game, an offering."

Nausea blasted through you at the word offering. A term that held such significance among people in this economy. Leaders sent offerings in hope for weapons, power, alliances. Offerings weren't supposed to make it back to their home turf.

"Neogitater, huh?"

Mingi's voice was a distant muffled taunt, his lips still at your ear. Implications behind the word negotiator were a lot less innocent as you had once thought. Joong had sent you here to seduce Mingi into coming back.

"Yeah, he screwed you over."

Releasing your chin, he stood back, allowing warm air to swim between you both. All the praise he'd given you, the encouraging touches, promises full of hope. Manipulation in it's finest form. You wanted to deny it, exclaim that Mingi was wrong, that he was the manipulator. However, all of it was true and deep in your heart you knew it. Everything from Mingi's expression to the way he'd spoken, you could feel the sincerity, because it was crystal clear to you now that Mingi had been a victim of Joong's manipulation too.

"What did he do to make you leave?"

Unsure of where this wave of boldness came from, studying Mingi's body language as you asked the million dollar question. Nudging the body on the floor with his foot, he paused, slowly glancing back you. Undoubtedly, you'd asked a question that should warrant your immediate death.

"Either you're going to kill me or I'm going to die when I return back to Joong, so at least this way I get something worth dying for."

Shrugging at the situation, keeping your voice even as you arched your eyebrows at him. Smallest twitch of his lips proved to you that you had subsequently, for the moment, won him over. Turning his back on you, he walked over to the wooden chair, seating himself as he cast his gaze back to you. Manspreading, arms folded across his chest as he adjusted the rings on his fingers.

"Exiled me because I wouldn't bow down to the order he wanted me to complete."

Confusion masked your face as you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

"Joong is a very specific leader. Takes what he wants, regardless of the consequences. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not a heartless brute. Last order he gave me was one that would have left innocent civilians dead just so he could prove to his sworn enemy that he was powerful."

Mingi blew out a breath, running a hand through his hair and meeting your eyes. Ignorance had been bliss when it had to come any of the fighting and war strategies Hongjoong had been conducting. Again, he'd kept you sheltered so you were never completely in the know.

"Everyone talks about you as if-"

"I'm some rouge who decided to cause havoc and run?"

Finishing the sentence with sarcastic amusement, Mingi rolled his eyes.

"Hongjoong loves to narrate a story where he's the hero."

Nausea still rolled around your stomach, ice melting into your veins as you took in everything Mingi was relaying to you. For years you'd been lied to, manipulated, moulded into the perfect pawn.

"Why ask me to come and get you? Surely he knew you'd never come back."

This question earned a shrug out of Mingi.

"He must be getting desperate in his tactics against Seonghwa."

Silence fell over you both, just the buzzing from the dimming lightbulb above you. Overwhelming sense of betrayal and hurt was gripping at you, clawing at your insides. No matter what you did now, it was going to end in death. There wasn't any way Mingi was going to let you walk out of here, especially when the last person hadn't made it out alive. And if you returned to Joong? Your head would be on a pike for everyone else to see.

"Can I make one request for when you kill me? Don't break my bones like that guy-"

Nodding your head to the corpse on the floor, wincing at the way his neck was at funny angle.

"Just make it quick. I'm squeamish."

Beat of silence.

And then Mingi rose from his chair, expression once again stoic. For a second time, you backed yourself up against the wall. Good, something to support your balance as you waited for your imminent death. Closing your eyes, calming your nerves, hoping he took your request seriously. Air around your changed, pumping with an unfamiliar charge. Weight lifted from the holster that was strapped to you, your gun being removed. Barrell of the gun grazed along your jawline, before it was placed underneath your chin.

"I'm not going to kill you."

Eyes fluttering open as you stared up at Mingi dumbfounded. Softness was faint in his gaze, but it was there.

"I'd rather not see your blood spilled all over the floor-"

Tossing the gun onto the floor, he once again had you trapped against the wall.

"Instead I'd rather fuck you senseless."

Lips crashing against yours, rough and heated. Hands palming at your hips as he pulled you into him, bodies slamming into each other. Mingi wasn't gentle in the slightest, his evident arousal was shown in the way he picked you up. Involuntarily, your legs hooked themselves around his waist. Teeth sinking into your bottom lip, inciting an unexpected moan from you which in turn, provoked a growl from him. Carrying you across the room, sitting back in the chair as you straddled his lap, hands now shedding the jacket you wearing.

"You're so fucking special, I hope you realise that."

Mingi rasped, tone thick of lust as he captured your lips again. Fingers creeping under your shirt, shivers breaking out from you as he ran them along your bare skin. Other hand firmly planted to your hip, keeping you there as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. Sucking at your skin, bruising the soft flesh as his fingers brushed against your ribs. Markings from his rings marking you, giving you a weird sense of pleasure. Whines fell from your mouth, desperate and pathetic as he sucked harder on your neck, fingers now tugging your bra down and finding your nipples.

"That's it, baby. Keep making those noises for me, let me hear how much you want me."

Muffled praise radiated against your throat as he moved his lips further along your collarbone. Thumb and forefinger rolling your nipple between them, causing you to buck your hips against his restricted cock. Mingi's head fell back at the friction, string of curses groaned out.

"Fuck-"

Impatience exploded out of him, standing up while still holding onto you with a deathly grip. Dropping you down and bending you over his makeshift counter, nothing but unbridled need swirling out of him.

"Hands on the counter, widen your legs, baby."

Demands you willingly obeyed. Opening your legs more, laying your palms flat on the dusty surface, Mingi wasted no time, relinquishing some control he'd been exuding over his horny state. Sound of him unbuckling his pants sent the most ridiculous thrill through you.

"I'm not fucking you because you were Joong's shitty attempt to bring me back; I'm fucking you because you've drove me crazy since the moment you stepped in here."

With that admission, Mingi caressed your ass cheeks before giving a sharp hard slap and skimming his cock against your soaked entrance. Bracing yourself, waiting for the feel of him filling you, holding your breath. Mingi teased for a few seconds longer, causing you to buck against him.

"Oh, needy are we?"

Chuckle emanated from him before he pushed himself against you, a gasp ripping from you. Fingers digging into your hipbone, skin stretching over his knuckles as he buried himself further in you. Lungs on fire as your breathing increased, your body adjusting to him.

"Come on, pretty girl, breathe- that's it- fuck, you feel that? Feel how you were made for me-"

Mingi's husky praise heated your skin, leaning forward pressing his lips against the nape of your neck as he started thrusting. Already cock drunk on him and he'd only just started fucking you. Slow, he started slow. Drawing himself in and out, kissing along your skin and then losing the self restraint he had.

"Mingi-"

Name falling from your mouth in a cry as he upped the pace and rhythm.

"Say it again."

"Mingi- oh- Mingi-"

Hands curling on the surface, wanting something to grab at. Head falling back, catching sight of Mingi as he fucked you senseless; just like he said he would. Eyes boring into yours, staring into your soul as he claimed you with everything he had. Fingers snaking around the base of your throat as you arched your back, pressure applied to the right spot as he fucked you harder.

"Don't close your eyes, keep watching me, I want you to see who's making you feel this fucking good."

Both of you panting, bodies dripping in heat and sweat under the clothes you still had on. Hand around your throat squeezing harder as his eyes darkened, almost black, reaching his peak.

"Mingi I'm so close- please-"

"Shit, jagiya, you don't have to beg me for anything-"

It was almost a whine from Mingi as he let go of your throat and wrapped his hand around your hair, instead. His words of encouragement caused you to clench around his cock, letting go and drenching him. An animalistic growl rippled through him, holding you securely as he came.

Stillness drifted down over you both, the air ripe with heat and filled with the sounds of your erratic breathing. Steadily, Mingi withdrew himself from you, grimacing slightly as he left you empty. As you attempted to let your body ride the aftershocks, unaware that Mingi had found a clean rag and started to clean you up. Blush creeped along your cheeks, a very different kind of heat to the one you had just experienced. Not facing him yet, you pulled your underwear and jeans up, making yourself somewhat decent. Fingers brushing the tender skin on your neck where he'd left his very prominent mark.

Awkwardness washed over you as you tucked your hair behind your ear, turning to finally face him.

"Thoroughly fucked and and shy? Aren't you adorable."

Amusement laced his tone as his large hand reached out, fingers interlocking around your wrist and tugging you into him. Tilting your chin with a tenderness that was unexpected, Mingi studied your expression before he spoke.

"I'll go back to Joong-"

Dramatically, he paused, milking the moment.

"If you come with me and help me take him down."

[mingiwonkaa]

bound

mingi x reader (vampire au)

cw; MDNI, blood feeding, biting, praise.

word count; 1.9k

AN; some vampire mingi drabble! nothing affiliated with ateez. all fiction.

--

The fragments of your memory were scattered, shard by shard. Everything was hazy, nothing seemed to make any sense. It was as if your mind had been wrapped in cotton wool, the inability to remember anything had become a mental struggle. A dull thrumming was pulsating through your head, reminiscent of a hangover. But you hadn't touched a drop of alcohol. That was something you were absolutely sure of. Whatever was affecting you, it was something you'd never encountered before.

It was as if you were shrouded in darkness, a sense of powerlessness suffocating you. For a moment you thought it was a form of sleep paralysis, but that didn't seem to fit. Then, splintered cracks of light pierced your vision, a welcoming sense of relief as the darkness dissipated. Before you the scene faded into a rush of colours, but mostly red. Crimson, to be precise. Then, it was like a veil had been peeled from your mind and you finally focused on the situation you'd been dropped into.

Satin, velvet and silk decorated the room in rich red and pure white. Had you had stepped directly into some Dracula reality? Light flickered from the multiple candelabra's that were neatly placed around the room. Shadows of their flames dancing on the wall, taunting your increasing panic. Books wrapped in leather and dust, filled an entire bookcase, satin drapes pulled back to reveal the flurry of snow outside the window.

A chill brushed along the nape of your neck, the ever growing fear that something was wrong, now hollowing out into the pit of your stomach.

"The first fall of snow is always so beautiful."

Like a whip cracking through the air, the eerie silence was ruptured. Your whole body spun around without any hesitation, finding the source that broke the quiet. An outline of a silhouette filled the doorway, the glow of the candlelight bathing them. It just wasn't enough for you to make out who they were.

"Where am I?" A million questions flooded to the forefront of your mind, but that was the only one that slipped out. It was barely an audible whisper.

"Romania." The voice replied, deep and rich; a shot straight to your veins.

"What? That's- that's impossible-" You breathe out, shaking your head. This was some fever dream, it had to be. It was the only explanation. Right?

"My apologies, please let me explain." And with that, he stepped out from the shadows and revealed himself, not another word spoken. Silence once again engulfed the room, your mind faltering at the sight of the figure before you.

No author, no painter, no poet could ever conjure up a beauty as haunting as his. It was like he wasn't even real. Every single detail of him was flawless; defined jawline, lips that were inviting, eyes that were trained on you with a gaze that held you captive. The gleam of the candles highlighting just how pale his skin was. His long dark hair a stark contrast to his translucent skin. Everything about his attire screamed old fashioned. White and black lace woven together neatly, clothes tailored to his body perfectly. Even down to the black boots he wore.

Clearing his throat, he ripped you out of your obvious oggling and took one more careful step towards you. The closer he approached, the finer details you could see. One small mole sitting just underneath his eye, another one the other side of his face lower down. But it was his height... his entire presence cloaked you, a height difference between you prominent.

"You aren't afraid." A murmured statement fell from his lips, curiosity peaking into his tone. Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion because he was right. The panic and fear that had overcome you at first had gone, fizzled away the moment you had laid your eyes upon him.

"You feel it, don't you? The pull between us, the magnetic drive bringing us back together."

Something coloured his tone but you couldn't figure out what. He didn't give you the chance to dwell on it. The small amount of distance that had been left between you both was now closed. One single slender finger tilted your chin upwards, eyes locking with his.

"My love, you know who I am. Say it, say my name." An urgent whisper escaped him, an ache plaguing him as he waited for the realisation to sink in.

And then it hit you like a freight train.

"Mingi."

A single thread was pulled unravelling a tapestry that held centuries of love, history and secrets. A bond that could never be broken. Fated lovers that always found each other.

You knew him. You were half of him. You could feel it. But there had been too many walls built to allow you to fully understand what you and he were once.

"My beautiful dove." Mingi's deep voice rumbled, cold as ice fingers cupping your cheek. A look of unfiltered admiration poured into his eyes as he drank you in. Then, without waiting a second longer he tipped his head down, lips brushing against yours as he captured your mouth.

A kiss that held nothing but desperation and need. A kiss that felt like home. He felt like home.

Mingi's tongue stroked against yours, fingers trailing against your cheek and losing themselves in your hair. The slight gesture had you melting against him, clinging to his coat as you craved more. Pain zapped through you as Mingi nipped at your bottom lip. Teeth- no, fangs. Fangs pierced your lip, his tongue sweeping over the nipped skin.

Vampire. You'd fallen in love with a vampire all those centuries ago. Remnants of the past flew around in your mind, the reality of it all slapping you in the face.

"You remember what I am." It wasn't a question. Mingi pulled back slightly, fingers still intertwined in your hair, eyes studying you. A small nod from you, answering his accusations as you stared back at him.

"We were supposed to be together forever. Become one. But our future was ripped away when they stole you from me. Made me watch as they took your life and told me it was punishment. Consequences of my own actions of tricking a human to fall in love with a vampire." Bitterness and fury radiated off him, a far off look lost in his gaze.

"Every lifetime I searched for you. Every generation. But, you were never in reach. Until this one, my beautiful dove." Eyes focused on you again, the icy pad of his thumb tracing your lower lip.

"You never tricked me. I fell in love with you because you were everything I wanted." An admission of love that softened the hard lines of Mingi's face.

"Say it again."

"I love you."

Those three words were all he needed to hear. Shedding his coat, he placed his palm against your chest, just above your heart. Warmth emanated from you, causing a shiver of pleasure to rock Mingi.

"I've lived through centuries to find you, I'm not waiting any longer to have you."

Hands roamed your body, his obvious need for you burning hotter than any fire known to man. Mingi wasted no time stripping you bare, stealing kisses after every item of clothing he tugged off you. He wasted little time walking you back to the four poster bed, ensuring you were in the perfect position before he kneeled between your legs.

Not breaking his eye contact, he lowered his head, lips caressing the skin of your exposed thighs. Tongue tasting the flesh before he'd sink his fangs in. A gasp left you, a buzz of arousal flooding through you as he decorated your thighs in bites. Fingers teasing the top of your legs, dragging themselves down to your wet core. One last kiss to your hip bone, he thrust two fingers inside, feeling just how much you wanted him.

"After all this time, I knew I still owned you." A low rumble came from him as he worked his fingers, pushing them further. Another bite here and there to your thighs, your body quaking from his ministrations. After a moment, Mingi withdrew his fingers, watching your body fall limp with disappointment.

"All in good time, my sweet girl." He promised, a crooked smirk toying at the corners of his lips as he sucked his fingers clean. Slowly, he undressed himself, making you watch before finally hovering above you. The freezing cold temperature rolled off him, causing you to run your fingers along his bare and toned chest.

"You're mine. You always have been."

Words of possessive promise vibrated from him as he palmed his arousal, hand pumping up and down.

"Who do you belong to?" Your stomach flipped at his question. Shadows falling across his face.

"You." A whine rippled through you. Mingi groaned in satisfaction at your answer, guiding himself into you before pushing himself to the hilt. One hand clasping both of your wrists together, pinning them above your head. Darkness swirled in his eyes, passion and hunger claiming him as he drove himself deeper.

"Mingi-"

His name whimpered from your lips only nudged him further to the brink of insanity. Strands of his hair falling across his eyes, grip on your wrists tightening as he licked a long stripe along your neck before baring his fangs to your skin.

Arousal was drowning you, every sense consumed by him. You knew what he wanted. So you let him. Tilting your throat more to him, a silent wave of consent.

Fangs punctured your flesh, his hips snapping against yours as he sunk his teeth into your throat. Pain and pleasure skyrocketed throughout your body. His thrusts increasing, wetness coating your thighs as blood trickled down your neck. Growls resonated deep inside Mingi, his touch bruising as he clung onto you.

"Fuck, I forgot how you tasted." A hiss of ecstasy left Mingi as he withdrew from your throat, his hips rocking against yours harder as he kissed you with blood smeared lips.

"That's it, my little dove." Mingi praised, eyes halting you in place as he relentlessly fucked you. Blood dripping from his lips, dotting your skin. Both of you could feel it. The peak rising, chasing the high.

"I want- I want to be with you forever-" Your words were choked with moans, your fingers digging into hard stone skin.

Something switched in Mingi, his eyes narrowing as he continued his rhythm. Hands releasing your wrists, instead circling around your throat with a gentle ease. The lightest brush of a finger against the fresh wound on your throat.

"I need to hear those words, baby." His voice low and raspy, an injection of heat to your veins.

"Mingi- I want to be like you-" You cried out, shaking as you begged him to make you the same as him. Not a moment of hesitation came from Mingi, his fangs already sinking into his wrist and holding it above your mouth.

"Open wide and swallow." He demanded, voice rough with lust and desire. Sticking your tongue out, you let the blood drip, coating your lips and tongue. When Mingi deemed it to be enough, he closed your mouth and continued to fuck you until you came undone.

Falling apart for him was a feeling you never truly forgot. Not even with centuries in the way. Mingi let himself go, licking your blood stained lips as he filled you. Blood and sweat covered you, along with the bites Mingi had painted your body with.

"You always were my prettiest canvas." A soft hum of words came from him, his forehead resting against yours.

"Rest, love. When you wake up, we'll be together forever. Bound by our love for eternity." An echo of his voice soothed you to sleep one last time.

[missyungi]

.long distance.

This is a request and also something I have never written before :)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, soft smut, video call sex, mutual masturbation, consensual sexual content, long distance relationship

————

The soft glow of your monitor spills across your room, casting gentle shadows along your face. You sit at your desk, chin resting in your palm, fingers tapping lightly against the wood as you wait. Anticipation hums quietly beneath your skin. One glance at the clock tells you it’s 5:30 a.m., and you groan softly. It’s too early—but it’s worth it.

You hate waking up at this time. But if you want to see your boyfriend after his late-night dance practice, this is the only moment you get. It’s 10:30 p.m. for him, and he should be calling any minute now. You continue tapping your fingers, trying to stay patient.

You’re incredibly grateful for video calls. They make the ache of being apart a little more bearable. With him still in Korea and you studying in Los Angeles, the distance is challenging, but these calls bridge the gap just enough to keep your connection close.

The sudden ringing of your computer startles you from your thoughts. Excitement sparks in your chest as you quickly click the button to answer him.

The screen flickers, and then his face fills it—familiar and achingly missed.

He’s bare-faced, his dark hair swept forward and tucked beneath a hat, a few strands falling into his eyes. He’s propped on one elbow, the outer edge of his hand supporting his cheek as he looks at you through the camera—unhurried, like he’s finally allowed himself to slow down. There’s something disarmingly intimate about seeing him like this after practice—worked hard and undone—your favourite version of him.

A soft smile curves your lips, sleep still heavy in your body.

“There’s my girl,” he says softly, eyes warm and affectionate, like ending his night with you is the best part of it.

You feel a flush rising to your cheeks. No matter what, he always has a way of making you feel special.

“Hi,” you whisper. “How was practice?” You slouch a little in the chair to get comfortable, unsure how long the video call will last.

“It was tough,” he admits, exhaling as he shifts in his chair. “But I think I have a handle on it.”

You can tell he’s stressed—and probably sore, the good kind—the aftermath of hours spent moving without rest. You wish you could reach through the screen and smooth the tension from his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, baby. I wish I could help. I miss you, and I hate being so far away,” you say, moving slightly in your seat.

“Just seeing you helps,” he says, gaze soft as it lingers on you. “Although… a game may help too. Can you keep me company?”

——————

You smile softly and nod. Thinking about being more comfortable, you grab your blanket from the bed. The early morning light creeps in through the crack in your curtains. “I was planning to,” you say as you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and sit back down.

He smiles at that—small, fond—and turns to the other screen. You see his hands disappear and hear the soft clack of the keyboard. He starts the game, but his movements are slower than usual, looser, fingers still precise but unhurried. Every now and then his attention drifts back to you, eyes flicking over like he’s checking you’re still there.

“You’re not even watching,” you tease.

“I am,” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Just… multitasking.”

He plays a couple of rounds, and between them he stretches, arms shifting, shirt lifting, just enough to remind you of the body beneath it. Warm. Worked hard. Familiar in ways distance only intensifies. He lets out a quiet breath, the kind that tells you how much he pushed himself tonight.

“You’re tired,” you say quietly.

He exhales, a soft laugh under his breath. “Yeah. Worth it. I wanted to see you before I sleep.”

The way he says it—like it’s obvious, like there was never another option—makes your chest tighten with longing.

When the game ends, he doesn’t start another. He pushes the keyboard aside and turns fully toward you. The silence that falls between you two feels intimate.

His gaze lingers now—slower, darker. Not rushed. Not shy. Just honest.

“You look good,” he murmurs, voice lower now, roughened by exhaustion and the late hour.

A warmth spreads inside you at his words. His deep voice is one of your favourite things about him.

“I wish I could touch you,” he adds quietly.

You swallow, knowing exactly what he means.

The words hang between you, heavy and charged. His gaze stays locked on yours, steady and knowing, as if he’s giving you time.

He leans a little closer to the camera, close enough that it feels unfair.

“If I were there,” he says softly, “I wouldn’t rush this.”

——————

Your breath catches. The world narrows to his voice, his eyes, the quiet tension humming between you. He leans back slightly, a knowing smile playing at his lips.

You already know you shouldn’t, but you want to hear him say it.

“What would you do?” you ask, voice quieter now, wanting to be close to him in any way.

“Well,” he says, voice still low, “first off, I’d place my hand on your neck and kiss that amazing mouth of yours.”

Your hand moves instinctively to your neck, resting where his would be. You let your eyes drift closed, letting yourself imagine it’s him. A soft moan escapes before you can stop it.

He chuckles lowly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you even through the screen. You open your eyes at the sound, pulling your hand away as colour rises to your face.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly. “I just miss you… and need you in more ways than one.”

He leans forward again, eyes twinkling with mischief, though something deeper lurks beneath. “Don’t be. I enjoyed that. I have an idea—do you trust me?”

“Of course,” you say, confusion flickering across your face.

You watch as he pushes back and stands from the chair. He heads to the door, locks it, then lowers the shade.

“Now we have privacy,” he says, settling back into the chair comfortably.

Realisation sets in, and the flush on your cheeks deepens. You’ve never done anything like this before, but you need closeness—and this feels like the perfect way.

He notices your silence, sensing your thoughts turning. “Are you okay with this?” he asks, sincerity and love shining in his eyes.

You nod, words failing you.

“We can stop whenever you want,” he says, removing his hat.

“No, leave it on,” you manage quietly.

He chuckles softly again, giving you an encouraging smile. He leans back slightly, eyes never leaving yours, and you feel that familiar tug in your chest—the ache of distance sharpened by quiet intimacy.

“Now place your hand back where you had it before,” he murmurs, voice low, almost a whisper. “Go slow. I’d take my time with you.”

You obey, sliding your hand to your neck, letting your eyes drift closed again. A gentle, unconscious squeeze sends a shiver crawling through you, warmth pooling beneath your ribs.

——————

He leans in, eyes darkening as he watches every subtle move. Your pulse quickens, every nerve alight with imagined closeness.

“That’s it, baby. While I’m kissing you, my other hand would slowly make its way down, savouring every inch of you.” You don’t see it, but his hand begins to move, tracing the outline of his arousal through his pants.

Leaving your hand at your neck, you use the other to explore your body slowly. You trace every inch of your breast through your shirt—a rush of heat courses straight to your core, blooming softly inside you. You jump slightly when you touch your nipple, and he notices. You bite your lip, soft gasps slipping out as you imagine his hands where yours are—guiding, teasing, lingering, just long enough to make you tremble.

You slip your hand beneath the waistband. His groan, deep and unrestrained, makes your chest tighten—and gives you more confidence. When you find your clit, already swollen and hot, a sharp hiss escapes your lips. You circle it slowly, and a louder moan follows.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes, his hand slipping beneath the waistband of his grey sweatpants, moving with slow, deliberate rhythm over his hardened length.

Feeling braver, you pull your fingers away from your clit, whimpering at the sudden loss—but when you slide them to your folds, the wet heat makes your breath hitch. Your mouth falls open as you glance up at him. He’s still there, watching, moving his hand with that same unhurried precision.

Finally, you release your neck and lift your singlet, baring your chest to him.

His groan is low, guttural, filled with something primal—and you feel it against your skin like a spark.

You keep moving slowly, curling your fingers, letting the feeling build, imagining it’s his long, slender fingers—familiar, practiced, knowing. Your body responds eagerly, every nerve alight with need. You shift slightly, opening your legs wider, letting him see you completely open, trusting him with every reaction.

He groans at the sight of you like this—unguarded, wanting. His breathing uneven now. You hear the soft rustle beside him as he reaches for something off-screen, anticipation thick in the air.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, words slipping out on a broken exhale. You hadn’t realised how tightly wound you were, how much you needed this—needed him.

You shift again, wanting to see him too, and he looks back at you with a soft, blissed-out smile that makes your chest ache.

“That was… incredible,” he says between breaths, pumping faster. “I want us to finish together.”

——————

You nod, unable to find words, focus narrowing to the shared rhythm between you. Your hands move with more urgency now, guided by his voice, by his gaze.

You hold each other’s eyes through the screen as the moment crests, the distance briefly forgotten in the intensity.

Afterwards, both of you are quiet, coming down from the high of release.

He tidies himself up while you do the same. You fix your clothes and sit back in your chair, blissed and a little amazed at what just happened. He pulls closer to the screen, the distance between you softened, though not gone.

For a moment, no one speaks. Just shared breathing, quiet understanding, closeness, trust—something only the two of you share.

“You okay?” he asks gently, concern cutting through the lingering heat.

You nod, gazing into his eyes. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I feel really close to you now.”

A soft smile spreads across his face. “Good. That’s all I wanted.”

He exhales slowly, leaning back in his chair, eyes still warm as they hold yours. “You should try to get some sleep; don’t you have the day off today?” he asks. “I’ll message you when I wake up.”

You smile, warmth settling deep in your chest. “Yes, I do. You should go to bed too. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says back, giving you your favourite grin.

The call ends, the screen going dark—but the feeling lingers. The closeness. The comfort. The quiet promise of more.

[missyungi]

Sorry about the lack of updates. I want to finish the stories but I haven’t been in a good headspace lately and I also thought that no one really liked them that much. Those two things had an impact on me and I wasn’t able to do much.

I will try again though. 🫶🏼

[missyungi]

Undone

Just a little one shot ;) Warnings: sexual content and suggestive themes, mild physical contact, bullying, power dynamics.

———

You look up from your cue cards — bad idea. You accidentally catch his eye, and your breath stops for a moment.

Composing yourself, you continue your speech, the words faltering as your voice wavers. You can feel his intense gaze on you, burning straight through to your core, making your skin tingle with unspoken tension. You shouldn’t feel this way — he was your enemy, after all. Yet when you looked up, all you could see was want swirling behind his eyes.

You finish your speech and hurry from the room, needing a moment to gather yourself. As soon as the door closes behind you, you lean against the cool, textured hallway wall, your heart pounding.

Deep breath in, slow and controlled. Deep breath out.

Your heartbeat finally begins to settle — until you hear the soft click of the door opening again.

You open your eyes — and let out a small, involuntary groan.

It was him.

“What do you want?” you ask through clenched teeth, frustration and confusion swirling inside you. He shouldn’t make you feel this vulnerable.

“You,” he replies, leaning casually against the opposite wall, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

You frown, confused. He was the one who teased you relentlessly, who found a way to annoy you at every turn. Charming, cute — sure. But there was something darker beneath it.

He notices your expression and chuckles softly, stepping closer. Too close. You freeze, your mind racing.

He slips a hand around your neck, fingers tightening for a split second — a warning, not a threat — before easing just enough.

Your body reacts before your mind can. That only makes it worse. 

Leaning in, he whispers,

“I’ve always wanted you. Even when you looked at me like you hated me.  Especially then.”

He pauses, letting his gaze sweep over you. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips as he notices your breath quicken, shallow and uneven.

He continues, voice low and deliberate, “I want to make you forget every other guy here. I want to taste you.  I want to feel you tremble under my hands, hear you choke on my name, lose control — in ways only I could ever make you. Every gasp. Every shiver… I’ll memorise it. And I’ll know it — every single time you think about me.”

He lets go of your neck and leans back, a sly smile playing on his lips as he takes in your stunned expression. 

Then, without another word, he turns and walks back into the room — smug, unbothered, leaving you trembling. 

And he knows it: you’re already undone, and he’ll haunt every thought until you can’t resist.

[missyungi]

.leave it - part 4.

only one more left after this one :)

-------

A couple of days pass.

You meet him outside, sunlight reflecting sharply off his sleek sunglasses, causing tiny glints that dance across his face. His casual smile appears effortless and relaxed, as if nothing unusual has happened, and he greets you warmly, as though the tension of that night is entirely gone. 

Despite the lingering memories, you follow him anyway, your heart pounding in your chest, driven by the recollection. The vivid memory of that night — his firm hands, intense gaze, the slow, deliberate way he made you wait — lingers just beneath your thoughts, flickering at the edge of your consciousness.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice smooth and teasing, lips curling into a subtle smile as he glances at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

You nod, clutching your bag a little too tightly, hyperaware of how close he walks beside you. His shoulder brushes yours intentionally, a fleeting contact that sends a ripple through your body, making your chest tighten.

You spend the afternoon wandering through a quiet, tree-lined section of the city. He points out street art murals, vintage record stores, and food trucks parked along the curb, joking lightly about the quirky storefronts and unique snacks. You laugh, trying to mask your nervousness, but every glance he gives, every subtle brush past your arm, feels charged with unspoken tension. You read him carefully, searching for signs, but he remains composed, unreadable.

When you stop at a cozy café, he chooses a corner table near the window, its wooden frame worn and charming, enhancing the intimate atmosphere. He sits casually, arms stretched across the back of the chairs, one leg crossed over the other in a relaxed stance. He makes no move to touch you, no hand on yours — yet the space between you feels taut, every movement amplified.

You stir your coffee slowly, trying to ignore how close his knee is to yours beneath the table. The fabric of his pants brushes against your skin. He leans back comfortably, tilting his head slightly, watching you with a half-smile, eyes glinting with amusement, clearly savouring your quiet tension.

“You’re quiet today,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate, so only you can hear. “Thinking about something?”

You bite your lip, nodding subtly. You don’t respond verbally, unable to find the words.

He smirks, that knowing tilt of his lips, the glint in his eyes making your pulse quicken. You wonder if he can tell how restless you are, how your mind keeps looping back to that night, unbidden.

The café slowly empties around you as tables are cleared. He sips his drink slowly, fingers brushing the rim of his glass, occasionally exchanging glances with you, always maintaining that careful, controlled distance.

When it’s time to leave, he stands, stretching languidly, then offers you, his arm. You take it hesitantly, acutely aware of the subtle space that still separates you. He walks beside you, speaking softly and joking under his breath, but beneath his words, something unspoken lingers. 

Back at your apartment, you step inside, placing your keys on the hallway table. You head toward the kitchen, and he follows silently behind, quiet in his demeanour.

You begin tidying up, distracted, when he leans against the doorway, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“The performance airs tonight,” he says calmly, a teasing note in his voice.

You stiffen at his words, already guessing what’s coming, the anticipation building.

“I know,” you reply softly, placing a dish on the rack. “I’ll be watching it when it airs.”

His grin widens. “Good, I won’t be here though; we have practice.”

Turning to face him, you notice that his smile remains easy, but something in his eye's hints at hidden intentions.

“You have practice? I thought we were going to watch it together," you say quietly.

He leans against the counter, voice light and casual. "It just came up,” he responds. "You’ll have to tell me if you enjoyed it once I get back.” He winks, then pushes off the counter, closing the gap between you with a quick, deliberate step, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “I shouldn’t be too long.”

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, gazes into your eyes with a lingering look, then turns to grab his things and leave.

You stare after him, your heartbeat quickening. You’re confident you’ll enjoy the show regardless — especially knowing he is wearing that outfit.

Later that night, you settle onto the couch, waiting patiently for the performance to air. Uncertain of the exact timing, you prepare yourself for a long night.

The show begins — and suddenly, you realise they’re opening the show. A wide smile spreads across your face. You recognise how much effort they’ve put in; it always shows in their performance.

The program continues. You anticipate the next act, your body reacting instinctively before your mind registers why. You stand for a drink, heading into the kitchen — and then, your attention snaps back as the familiar notes of Lemon Drop echo through the room.

You hurriedly return just in time. But it’s only the introduction of the song, and a flicker of disappointment passes through you. It’s one of your favourites, and you wish they were performing it in full.

Then Arriba begins.

You freeze.

You know exactly which moment is approaching.

The performance unfolds further, and when Mingi appears — in that outfit — your body reacts instantly. Your mind flashes back to his words the other night, the slow, drawn-out anticipation, the way he lingered in the moment. You hadn’t planned to be edged this week.

The next song starts, and you try to relax, mesmerised by all of them — extraordinary performers; yet your gaze never leaves your boyfriend. There’s something magnetic about his stage presence, a compelling energy that draws your eyes.

You don’t hear the front door open — too absorbed in the screen and the performance.

He walks down the hallway, watching you so focused, so unaware of him, that a slow grin spreads across his face. Quietly, he slips into the bedroom, leaving you unaware he’s already home.

When he returns, he’s wearing everything — the glasses, the hat, the outfit.

Your eyes finally lift from the screen, and in that instant, you see him. Every detail — the deliberate outfit, the tilt of his hat, the mischievous glint in his eyes — signals exactly what he’s planning. Anticipation surges through you — there’s no need to wait any longer.

[missyungi]

.through the lens.

part 2

--Backstage - Aftermath--

No one moves. Silence falls around you.

You’re still processing what he just said. The air feels heavier, pressing against your chest. Your palm tingles where it met his cheek, your heartbeat loud enough that you’re sure he can hear. Yunho’s eyes stay on you, glinting with that infuriating mix of amusement and mischief.

Your hand drifts toward your camera strap, gripping it like it might ground you, helping you make sense of… everything. You hold it a little too hard, and he notices. Casually, he crosses his arms and leans against the wall, that same smug, teasing smirk settling into place.

You let go of the strap and force yourself to lift the camera again, pretending to check the shots — but your hands betray you with a slight tremor. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” he says, voice low, teasing. “Did I scare you?”

“I—I’m not scared,” you stammer, cheeks burning. “Just… focused on the photos.”

He tilts his head, smirk widening. “Focused, huh? You seem a little distracted to me.”

You snap your eyes to him, ready to argue, but the words won’t come. Your pulse thunders in your ears, loud enough that you swear he can hear it. He pushes off the wall and steps closer, just enough that the heat of his presence presses into you. The backs of your legs brush the edge of the couch without meaning to.

“Careful,” he murmurs, voice silky and challenging. “I might start thinking you like me.”

Your entire body tightens. That one statement — one impossible, stupid statement — makes your stomach flip in a way you hate, and maybe… kind of enjoy.

You glare at him, lifting the camera again, desperate for a barrier. “I do not like you. I said that before — do you not remember?” you snap sharply.

“Sure,” he hums, calm, smug and ridiculously infuriating. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Your pulse quickens, still pounding in your ears.  Staying professional feels impossible. You bite your lip, hoping silence will make him leave. 

He doesn’t.

He stays.  He watches.

Your grip tightens around the camera, knuckles white, lifting it halfway before you stop. Yunho shifts slightly, just enough for his shadow to stretch across your frame. The air thickens; every breath feels shared. His eyes trace you slowly, deliberately, like he’s testing how far you’ll let this go.

You want to argue. To retreat. To focus on something else, but it all feels impossible. Every movement, every glance, stretches out, magnified. You force your gaze back to the camera, but it’s useless — his presence coils around you, teasing, daring, thrilling.

“I like it,” he repeats, slower this time. Clearer. The words aren’t teasing now. They hum, heavy and sharp, settling deep.

 All you can do is blink at him. The words spin in your mind, leaving you light-headed. You open your mouth, unsure what to say — another apology, a question, a plea — when a voice cuts through the room. 

“Yunho? We’re heading out.”

The spell shatters, though the tension lingers.

He straightens instantly, stepping back like nothing happened — like you didn’t just cross a line you can’t uncross. The space between you feels colder than before. He glances at the door, then back at you, and for half a second, something flickers across his face. Unfinished, unreadable. As if this isn’t over for him — only postponed.

“Duty calls,” he murmurs, backing away slowly. 

That same sly smile touches his lips — the one that makes you want to stomp your foot and melt all at once — and then he’s gone. 

The click of the door closing echoes through the quiet room. 

You remain frozen, shoulders stiff, heart hammering. Questions swarm your mind. Was he serious? Did he mean it? Does he always notice this much? Your camera strap feels heavier in your hands, a fragile tether to reality.

You sit back down, fingers brushing the camera lens, but your eyes keep drifting to the closed door. The silence presses in, thick and suffocating. You replay every glance, every word. That smirk. That glint. That tone. Everything about him seems designed to unbalance you.

A soft groan escapes you, half frustration, half disbelief. Your heartbeat slowly settles, but your thoughts refuse to follow.  You need answers. But you also know you won’t be alone with Yunho ever again to seek them.

--Alone--

You need a moment before you head home. 

You let yourself sink into the quiet. The chaos of the stage, the roar of the crowd, the thrum of the bass — all gone. It’s just you, the lingering trace of his cologne, and your relentless thoughts.

You tap your fingers against the arm of the couch, replaying the moment over and over. 

“I do not like you,” you whisper aloud, teeth clenched. Your pulse betrays you immediately. 

You stand needing to leave, needing the safety of home. As you place your camera into its bag, it still feels heavier than it should, your fingers tightening around the strap like it might anchor you. Every frame you captured tonight flashes through your mind, and with each one, his words echo louder. 

“I like it.” 

Why does it feel like a warning?  A promise? Or something else entirely?

The room feels smaller now, more suffocating. You look around the room once more before leaving, the faint hum of the fluorescent lights buzzing sharply in your ears. You press the bag to your chest like a shield. It does nothing, so you sling it over your shoulders and leave. The lingering weight of him — and the truth of your own reaction — leaves you restless, unsettled. 

The hallway outside is eerily quiet. You move quickly, unlocking your car and placing everything into the back seat before pulling away. The faint chill of the night air seeps through the slightly open window, brushing your skin and making you shiver.

At home, you tell yourself you’ll work — that editing will distract you. The glow of the monitor cuts through the dark, highlighting every detail you captured — and every thought of him. The ticking of the wall clock makes each second drag like his gaze is on you. But the moment the photos load onto your screen, your focus fractures. The cursor blinks too slowly, dragging each second out like a heartbeat you can’t quite catch, and your fingers twitch over the mouse. His presence lingers like a shadow you can’t shake. 

Your mind flickers to the smallest things: the smirk as he leaned against the wall, the brush of his sleeve against yours, the warmth of his presence pressing near, the sharp glint in his eye as he watched you lift the camera. Each frame you captured seems to echo with memory, every photo now tinged with him.

You hear the echo of his voice in your head, soft and teasing, almost impossible to place. Your fingers tremble as you adjust the exposure, imagining the way he would lean over your shoulder, watching your every move. The tension coils in your stomach, impossible to ignore, a quiet thrumming you can’t silence.

You pause, holding your breath before reality kicks in. Your heart still races, thudding against your ribs like a warning. You press your palms to the desk, trying to ground yourself, but every corner of the room seems charged with memory — that teasing smirk, the way he leaned just a little too close. Your thoughts are relentless.

He watches. He teases.                                              He provokes. 

And somehow, even now, you can feel his eyes on you.

You shake your head, muttering under your breath, telling yourself it’s over.  You don’t believe it for a second. 

Because deep down, you know tonight wasn’t the end. 

Avoiding him isn’t actually an option. The thought of stepping back into a crowded venue, lens in hand, feeling him there even without seeing him, makes your chest tighten and your fingers grip the mouse even tighter. And still, you’ll be there — pretending today never happened, camera in hand.

[missyungi]

.leave it - part 3.

So I did part 3 today. It's a bit of a filler so hope you like it :)

---

He gives you one last glance before letting out a soft laugh. His hand lifts, swiping gently over your cheek, warmth blooming beneath his touch.

Then, cane in hand, he saunters out of the room and out of your vision.

You don’t move. Not right away. Your cheek still burns faintly, like a reminder.

He never told you what to do after he left. 

You keep thinking about the way he said it. 

“We’ll see how long you last.”

Not like a threat. Not like a promise. Like a fact.

You stay where you are long after the sound of his footsteps disappears. You’re still unsure if you’re allowed to move. It feels wrong if you do — like the room itself is watching you, waiting to see if you break first. 

Every small noise — the faint creak of the floorboards, the distant echo of his laughter, even the soft whisper of your breath — seems sharper, closer. Each sound reminds you he isn’t there and yet he is.

Finally, you move a finger. Then an arm. You exhale, only then realising you were holding your breath. You need to sit down; your legs feel weak. 

As you make your way to the couch, you replay his words again. Replay the way he looked at you before he left. The quiet certainty in his voice.

“We’ll see how long you last.”

You sink onto the couch, clenching and unclenching your fingers as you lower. The cushions give beneath you, soft and pillowy, and some of the tension drains away. You let your hands relax again, feeling everything slowly release.

Staring absentmindedly, you notice how the light from the window hits the couch, how the shadows dance on the cushions. You slowly move your hand over the fabric, the softness feels amazing against your skin.

Minutes pass. Or maybe longer. Time feels unreliable now ­­— stretched thin by anticipation and the awareness that he could return at any moment… or not at all.

That’s the worst part.

Not knowing if this is a test. Not knowing if staying still is obedience – or if moving would be.

You feel dizzy. He has never affected you like this before. You lower your head onto the arm of the couch, your heart thumping so loudly it feels like it’s in your ears.

You wonder if he’s listening. If he’s watching somewhere just out of sight. You wonder if this is exactly what he wanted. 

He didn’t tell you to wait. But he didn’t tell you to leave either.

So, you stay. 

And somewhere deep down, a realisation settles in — one that makes your breath hitch.

This isn’t about how long you can stand still. It’s about how long you can stand wanting him to come back… and knowing he won’t until you’re right where he wants you.

With those thoughts running through your mind, you curl up on the couch, hugging your legs and close your eyes. 

Your body remembers, every brush of his touch — the heat of his hand on your wrist, the ghost of his fingers on your cheek. You breathe shallowly, imagining him return, the tilt of his head as he watches you obey. The ache of anticipation twists through you, sweet and sharp. 

How long will I have to wait?

With those thoughts, you drift off to sleep. 

You don’t hear him, but he moves quietly into the room, not hurried, still in control. He approaches the couch, careful to make no noise, and stands above you. He sees your sleeping form, so peaceful, so unaware.

Eyes dark, tracing your body with his gaze, he curls his mouth into a knowing smile — aware of exactly how he made you feel. He pauses for a moment, savouring the quiet, letting the moment stretch. The faintest sound of his breathing blends into the silence of the room.

He leans down and the faintest whisper of a finger touches you as he moves it along your arm, the touch makes you twitch, though you don’t wake. 

Then he turns and leaves, his presence hanging even after he turns away. He’s going to enjoy this… and he’s already counting how long you’ll have to wait. 

[missyungi]

.leave it - part 2.

Part 2

------

He steps back.

Not far. Just enough that the loss of his warmth feels intentional. Your body reacts before your mind does — a quiet inhale, shoulders tipping forward ­— and he notices. 

Of course, he does.

“Stay,” he says.

Not a command.

A correction.

You still. Hands by your side. Your heart races.

His gaze flicks to your hands, sees them clenched. He knows the tension there, the want for him.

“Good,” he says.

He turns away from you calmly, like he hasn’t just undone you with two fingers and a word.

He takes his time walking over to the couch in the middle of the room. 

As he walks, you take everything in. You notice how the outfit moves with him, how every muscle shifts beneath it. He reaches the arm of the couch. Glances back at you with a sly smile, then turns away again, reaching for something just out of view.

Your eyes follow, curious despite yourself.

That’s when you notice it — the cane. In your daze, you’d forgotten the outfit came with one. Your breath catches. He lifts it, gives it a casual twirl, then turns back to you, his gaze piercing. 

“You’re good at this,” he says lightly, almost conversational. “At standing still when you’re told.”

You don’t answer. You’re not sure you could. 

He moves toward you again, holding the cane in one hand and adjusting the hat with the other. The glasses follow; he slides them back into place, hiding his eyes ­­— re-establishing distance. 

Control, reclaimed.

“You’ve always said you’ve hated it,” he says, stopping just in front of you. He looks down through the lenses, measured. Assessing. 

You meet his gaze, uncertain. Trying not to push. Wanting to touch him anyway. Your arm moves without permission, a barely-there reach. He notices. 

“I didn’t tell you to move,” he says. 

A pause.

“I also didn’t tell you to touch.”

The silence stretches. Your pulse fills it. 

He lifts his hand and runs it down your arm, deliberately, knowing exactly what you want. Your fingers twitch. He glances down, sees them move. 

“Hands where they are,” he adds softly, closing his grip around your wrist. 

You nod. 

You obey.

He gives a slow nod. 

Approval but he doesn’t say it. 

“Good,” he murmurs again, almost to himself. 

He guides the wrist he’s holding behind your back and bends down.

“We’ll see how long you last,” he whispers at your ear. Skin tingling under the warmth of his breath.

He lingers close. Taking his time. 

Then, he gives you the lightest kiss on the side of your neck.

A small jolt moves through you, your mind fuzzier than before. 

He lets his grip on your wrist ease. Then tightens it again. A reminder.

As he straightens, he lets go.

You look up at him, tilt your head. Waiting. 

He studies you. Gauging. Testing. Enjoying the silence. 

Every small movement is a cue to him. Every quiet inhale, your answer. 

Finally, he steps back. The air between you thick. Every detail still in place. The cane by his side. 

And you know.

He’s in charge.