Nyx Encrypted

[nyxencrypted]

Roaring Fire

Summary:

While you’ve been secretly drawn to Mingi, fighting your feelings, he seems to enjoy getting under her skin. When your friend strategically abandons you at a bar, the tension finally breaks.

Notes:

This is for entertainment purposes only and my stories happen only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. Ateez are my main source of inspiration, and others may follow in the future, but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

— — — — — — — — — —

Blush creeps up your neck when you notice Mingi is looking at you. You’ve been staring at him too, for longer than you care to admit, only half-listening to what your friend is saying, and when you see him looking back, your stomach drops. You’re sure he can see in your face that you feel like you were caught doing something you shouldn’t.

A smug smile blooms across his face. God, he knows exactly how to get under your skin and he’s not even doing anything.

Your friend went to the bar and she’s taking too long, possibly flirting with the bartender. Trying to focus on your half empty glass isn’t enough: out of the corner of your eye you see Mingi glancing toward you a couple more times, but you don’t dare to look at him again.

Instead, you decide to focus on your phone, picking it up just to scroll a little. That’s a better distraction.

Relief washes over you when you feel someone pulling one of the chairs next to you.

“Took you long enough!” You hiss, but when you look up, your eyes widen… that isn’t your friend.

“Oh? I didn’t know you were waiting,” Mingi says, amused, and he sits down.

“I… I didn’t know it was you,” you say, trying to sound unaffected.

“Are you waiting for someone else?” Mingi asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

You look around for rescue. At the bar, your friend looks at you with a smile and winks, nodding encouragingly before glancing at Mingi and pointedly turning away.

“I think your friend wants us to talk,” Mingi says with that smugness you hate to love so much.

“I’ll pass,” you start to push your chair back, but Mingi catches your wrist. He’s surprisingly gentle, which doesn’t make your life any easier.

You feel sparks of electricity starting where his thumb caresses your skin and spreading through your chest, making your heart beat a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

You freeze, your half-formed protest dying on your lips as his thumb continues tracing slow circles on your inner wrist, his eyes studying your reactions.

Mingi leans forward, his cardigan slipping down his shoulder, and you start imagining how it would feel to trace the line of his neck down to his shoulder with your mouth.

“Why are you blushing?” He interrupts your thoughts.

Your cheeks burn even hotter after that question, and you snatch your wrist away as if his touch has suddenly become too much to handle, his smirk widening.

“I’m blushing because you're infuriating,” you snap.

“Right…” For a second, frustration flashes across Mingi's face. “You’re so stubborn!”

“I'm not stubborn,” you counter, your voice tighter than you intended. “I'm just… not interested.” Your words sound unconvincing even to yourself.

Mingi lets out a disbelieving chuckle. “Is that so?” His gaze drops from your eyes to your lips, and back up again. The journey takes seconds, but it feels like an eternity. “Your mouth is saying one thing, but your eyes…”

There it is again, this feeling, pulling you towards him. Being around him makes it impossible to think straight, and that’s why you try to avoid him.

One of his hands comes to rest on your hip as he closes the space between you, making you shiver.

“Tell me to leave.” His lips are so close you could taste them if you just dared.

You open your mouth to say the words that will finally end this game, but what comes out is, “My friend will be back soon.”

And that isn’t the same as 'leave'. It's a weak excuse, and the triumphant glint that sparks in his eyes tells you he knows it. Mingi smiles, a slow curve of his lips that's even more devastating than his usual smirk. He glances at your friend, seeing how deep in conversation with the bartender she seems to be.

“She won’t,” he says, his voice full of satisfaction.

Whatever you were going to say is meaningless because he cuts you off with a kiss. His free hand moves to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer as his tongue explores your mouth.

When you finally pull apart, both slightly breathless, he doesn't pull back far: just enough to look into your eyes, his thumb gently stroking your jawline.

“Still not interested?” Mingi teases, his voice a breathless whisper that makes your core ache.

You swallow hard, your heart hammering against your ribs. The sheer satisfaction in his eyes should annoy you, but right now, all you can focus on is the lingering taste of him.

“Shut up,” you breathe out, unable to look away.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he whispers, his fingers tangling in the hair at the back of your neck and tugging lightly, earning a soft gasp from you.

You let out a soft sigh, the last of your defences crumbling. “I said shut up,” you murmur, right before you kiss him again.

You feel Mingi chuckling against your lips, claiming your kiss like it’s a victory, his grip on your hip tightening. The kiss is sloppier than the first one, wet and more demanding. This isn’t a playful tease anymore: it’s sexy and unapologetically hungry.

Your hands slide up his chest, slipping onto the bare, warm skin of his shoulders.

Mingi pulls back a fraction, his lips trail a slow, torturous path down your jawline, pressing a lingering kiss to the sensitive pulse point right beneath your ear. He nips at the skin there, just a tiny graze of his teeth, sending a violent jolt of pleasure down your spine.

“You know we can’t finish this here, right?” he murmurs against your skin.

A breathless gasp escapes your lips when one of his hands slides up your inner thigh, torturously close to where you need him the most, leaving no room for excuses.

You glance at the door, but Mingi has a different idea. He takes your hand, his grip firm and decisive, and stands up, pulling you with him. He doesn't look back at your friend, who's now laughing with the bartender, leading you toward the back of the bar.

“Mingi, what are you doing?” you hiss, but your protest is weak, drowned out by the music.

Mingi doesn't answer, passing by the toilets and turning to the right at the end of the hallway. He pushes a door marked Staff Only open and pulls you inside.

The stockroom is dimly lit, cluttered with boxes of liquor, stacks of clean glasses, and the faint smell of beer. The door swings shut behind you, plunging you into near darkness and muffling the noise from the bar. He slides a stack of boxes partially in front of the door, a weak attempt to prevent someone from walking in on you.

“This is insane,” you chuckle, but your body presses against him as he crowds you against a shelf, rocking against your core.

“Is it?” he murmurs, his lips finding that sensitive spot below your ear. “Maybe I’m just crazy for you.”

You can't answer, not when his hands are sliding under your dress, not when his fingers are tracing patterns on your inner thighs, not when you already feel how soaking wet your underwear is.

“Mingi,” you gasp as his fingers find your wet folds, teasing and exploring. “Someone could walk in.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he growls against your skin, his voice rough with desire. “Maybe they'll learn something.”

His words send a jolt of arousal through you, and you give in completely, your hands fumbling with his belt as he lifts you onto a nearby crate.

Without giving you a chance to protest, his fingers find your slick entrance, circling once before sliding two inside with a practiced ease that makes you gasp. The sudden, intimate intrusion sends a jolt through your system, your hands flying to his shoulders to steady yourself.

“God, you're so ready me,” Mingi murmurs against your neck, his fingers pumping in and out your pussy in a delicious rhythm. “All this time, pretending you didn't want me.”

All your attention is focused on his fingers curling inside you in a way that steals the air from your lungs and has your hips grinding shamelessly against him, each stroke erasing coherent thoughts.

“Mingi,” you breathe out, your arousal dripping on his hand.

“Shhh,” he hushes you, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing slowly, adding pleasure to the increasing pace of his fingers. “Just feel.”

His fingers are long and skilled, hitting places you didn't even know existed, until you're trembling in his arms.

Mingi watches your face, his eyes drinking in every expression, every gasp, every shudder, a corner of his mouth lifting as your back arches. He's loving this, relishing the way you're falling apart under his touch, enjoying the power he has over you. And God help you, you're enjoying it too.

Suddenly, he draws back.

“Don't stop. Don't stop. Please,” you beg, feeling empty.

“I want you to come on my dick, not my hand,” he brings his fingers to his lips, tasting your arousal. “Delicious,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours.

Mingi finally frees his cock from his underwear, rock hard and already leaking precum, your pussy clenching with anticipation. He rubs his length along your folds, coating himself with your juices, teasing your entrance, but never giving you all you want. The sensation is maddening.

“Are you going to make me cum, or do I have to take care of it myself?” You snap in a mix of arousal and frustration.

He chuckles. “That’s my girl,” he says before he enters you with a single thrust, the angle perfect, both of you groaning at the sensation.

He sets the perfect pace, not too rushed, not too slow, creating the most amazing friction. You bite his shoulder to muffle your cries as he pounds into you, the crate creaking beneath you with each thrust.

Mingi takes in a sharp breath when your teeth sink into his flesh, but he doesn’t pull away, his cock throbbing inside you, his hands gripping your hips as he drives into you harder.

When he feels you’re close, he pulls your hair to make you look at him. You hiss at the pain in your scalp, but it only fuels what you’re already feeling. So you force your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze.

“Give it to me, baby,” he commands. “I know you want to.”

White light explodes behind your eyelids. Your inner walls clamp around him, rhythmic pulses that start deep inside and radiate outward until your entire body shakes with the force of your orgasm. Mingi keeps his eyes on your face, watching every detail of your undoing with delight.

Moments later he follows you over the edge with a muffled groan against your neck, his hips stilling as he fills you with his warmth.

You’re still breathing heavily when reality slowly returns, and you become aware of the thrumming music again. Mingi gently helps you down, adjusting your dress with care.

“Will you stop pretending now?” he asks with that infuriatingly smug smile, though his eyes are softer now.

You roll your eyes, but can't suppress a smile, and you know there’s no way back from this.

Mingi chuckles, pulling you in for one last, lingering kiss. “Let's get out of here before someone comes in.”

As you emerge back into the main bar area holding hands, no one seems to have noticed anything amiss, except your friend, who catches your eye from across the room and winks knowingly, making you blush all over again.

[nyxencrypted]

What If It Were Us?

Summary:

A teasing exchange turns into something neither of you can ignore anymore. As old feelings rise to the surface and hidden desires are finally spoken aloud, Yeosang finds himself chasing the one thing he's wanted all along: you.

Notes:

This is for entertainment purposes only and my stories happen only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. Ateez are my main source of inspiration, and others may follow in the future, but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

— — — — — — — — — —

Your phone buzzes while you’re halfway through folding laundry on your bed, soft music playing in the background. You almost ignore it until you see his name flashing across the screen.

Yeosang

A tiny smile pulls at your lips instantly. When you open the chat there’s only a photo, a mirror selfie at the gym with him and San. The way his black tank top clings to his sweaty skin makes your stomach tighten.

Before you have time to reply, he sends you a picture of only himself and heat creeps up your neck. You toss the shirt in your hands somewhere behind you and flop backward onto the bed, phone above your face.

You’re typing a reply when your phone rings, and it’s a videocall from him.

Your traitorous heart skips as you answer and your hands shake briefly before his face appears, his hair still damp from a fresh shower.

“Hi,” he says softly, voice roughened from exhaustion.

You narrow your eyes immediately. “You’re annoying.”

“Mm.” He leans closer to the camera. “But you answered.”

You think about what to say, and with a mischievous smile you ask, “How’s San?”

Yeosang’s eyebrows knit together. “Really?!”

You giggle, “What?”

“Want to talk to him? He’s right there, I can call him.”

“Oh, he’s nice, do that.”

“No,” Yeosang says simply.

You suppress a giggle. “You’re the devil.”

He chuckles. “What happened to you calling me your fallen angel?”

You stick your tongue out. “Same thing.”

With a smug smile on his face, Yeosang shrugs. “You love me all the same.”

You bite back a smile. The annoying thing is he’s right. “You cannot send me things like this while I’m trying to be productive.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m folding clothes.”

“And I was at the gym suffering. But now I’m done.” He says those words like they have a hidden meaning.

You laugh softly under your breath, shaking your head. “So you decided to start psychological warfare?”

Yeosang giggles. “It worked, didn’t it?”

You groan dramatically into your pillow. “I hate you.”

He shakes his head. “No, you don’t.”

Your stomach flips. “You’re fishing for compliments.”

“I already got what I wanted.”

“And what’s that?”

His gaze drags slowly over your face on the screen. “That look you have right now.”

Your breath catches, because he always seems to know the exact moment your pulse starts racing and he enjoys it too much.

You tuck your hair behind your ear, trying to recover some dignity. “You’re very confident for someone who was sweating in public.”

A soft chuckle leaves him, then his eyes darken slightly.

“You should see the effect you have on me right now before calling me confident.”

And suddenly the laundry on your bed feels very, very irrelevant. “Show me, then.”

He giggles again, his ears turning the lightest shade of pink now. “I don’t know if you can handle it.”

You roll your eyes. “Come on, Yeosang… you called me for a reason.”

He stays quiet for a moment, then he straightens, clearing his throat. He flips the camera, and instead of looking at his face, now you see him reflected on the locker room mirrors.

“Yes? You’re hot, I know. Anything else?”

“You aren’t paying attention, are you?” You hear him asking.

He angles his phone just slightly, and your eyes widen when you see the bulge straining against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“That’s… that’s not because of me.”

“Yes, it is.”

“But,” you start, feeling your face burning, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“It is because of you. Because I’ve been thinking about you even when I was hitting the machines. Because I saw your picture earlier on socials and started picturing things in my mind. And because you like to pretend you don’t care but I can see in your face that you want me too.”

“Things?” You ask, still stunned.

He flips the camera again, his beautiful face now totally red, but his eyes are locked on yours. “I heard some guys sharing stories, and I started wondering how it would be if it were us.”

You blink. “Stories… about?”

Yeosang giggles, then immediately tries to look serious. “Sometimes I think…” He hesitates. “I imagine certain things with you. And today I couldn’t help but picture what it would feel like… with your mouth around my cock, taking me deep…”

“Yeosang!” You shout. You aren’t used to him talking like this to you. There had been some teasing before, enough to make you question the nature of your relationship sometimes, but this is too straightforward. You feel heat pooling at your core, your pulse skyrocketing.

He continues, like he didn’t hear you. “And what would it feel like to taste you, my tongue licking that sweet pussy until you’re trembling.”

You stay silent but he catches your body movement, your thighs clenching to try to ease the throbbing sensation, and he knows he got you where he wants you.

His tongue comes out to lick his lower lip before he continues, “And what would it feel like to be buried deep inside you, taking you slowly at first, and then pounding into you relentlessly until you’re a writhing mess beneath me.”

“Fuck…” you exhale.

“Exactly,” he says with a smirk.

The gym locker room door slams shut behind Yeosang, his phone still in hand as he ends the video call with a predatory smirk.

“Where are you going?” San calls out, because he was waiting for Yeosang to leave together.

“To get what I want,” Yeosang replies, grabbing his gym bag.

Twenty minutes later, he's knocking on your apartment door. When you open it, he’s flushed, breathing heavily from running up the stairs, and looking at you like you're his next meal.

“You're completely and utterly insane,” you manage to say before his mouth crashes against yours.

The door clicks shut behind you as he backs you against it, his hands gripping your waist. There's nothing teasing about this kiss: it's demanding, his tongue claiming yours with an urgency that makes your knees weak.

“I told you I'd show you,” he growls against your lips, one hand sliding down to cup your ass and pull you flush against him, his erection pressing into your stomach. “This is what you do to me.”

Yeosang’s fingers find the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head before his mouth trails down your neck. Each bite of his teeth against your skin makes you gasp, your hands tangling in his hair.

“Yeosang,” you breathe out, already arching against him.

He lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to your bedroom, not even bothering to turn on the light.

Yeosang lays you back on your bed, half-folded laundry be damned, hovering above you with dark eyes that devour every inch of exposed skin. “Just… let me,” he whispers, and you can only nod.

His fingers trace the edge of your bra before unclasping it with practiced ease. He then nibbles on your ear, your neck, going down to your collarbone, and finally lowering his head to take one nipple into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue makes you cry out, your hips bucking upward.

“So responsive,” Yeosang murmurs, while his free hand slides down your stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. When his fingers find your folds, already slick with arousal, he groans against your breast.

“Fuck, you're so wet for me.” He circles your clit slowly, watching your face as you squirm beneath him. “I've thought about this countless times... about how you'd feel.”

He shifts, sliding your pants and underwear down, kneeling between your thighs and spreading them wider with his hands.

“Remember what I said on the phone?” He looks up at you, his pupils blown with desire. “About tasting you?”

Before you can answer, Yeosang lowers his head, his tongue finding your clit in a slow, deliberate stroke that makes your back arch off the bed. He takes his time, exploring every fold, every sensitive spot, until you're writhing beneath him, your fingers gripping his hair.

“Yeosang... please,” you beg, not even sure what you're asking for.

Yeosang raises his head, his chin glistening with your juices. “Please what?” He slides two fingers inside you, curling them just right. “Please make you come? Please fuck you until you can't remember your own name?”

He adds a third finger, stretching you, preparing you. “I'm going to do all of that. And more.”

Yeosang then takes his fingers away, leaving you feeling empty and aching, whimpering in frustration. He helps you get up.

“Say you’re mine,” he asks, now with a certain vulnerability in his eyes along with the desire. “I need you to know you’re mine.”

You kiss his lips before assuring him, “I’m yours.”

Yeosang smiles against your lips, his hands on your waist tenderly stroking your skin.

“Now, kneel,” he commands, pulling away a bit, his voice sweet like velvet but leaving no space for questioning.

Holding his cock with one hand and your chin with the other, Yeosang makes you look up at him, leaning down so your faces are just inches from each other. He pecks your forehead, then your lips, and whispers, “Open for me, baby.”

You oblige immediately, eager to taste him. His cock is big and thick, and you take him in, first licking your way up to the tip before drawing him into your mouth.

It’s hard to adjust to his size, and when he hits the back of your throat you have to suppress a gag. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” he praises.

Yeosang fucks your mouth in a steady rhythm, holding you by your hair, thrusting deep. You’re on the edge between pain and pleasure, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision before they finally spill over, tracing hot trails down your flushed cheeks. You feel his rigid length throbbing and you know he must be close. When he pulls away, your jaw hurts, yet you want more.

He lays you down again, finally positioning himself above you, lining up with your entrance. You’re trembling with anticipation. He pushes in slowly, watching your face as he fills you inch by inch, stretching you deliciously.

“God, you feel even better than I imagined,” Yeosang groans, looking at you with lust in his eyes. “So perfect for me.”

He starts moving, shallow thrusts that gradually deepen until he's hitting that spot inside you that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper with each stroke.

He nips your neck, a soft moan escaping your lips, so you retaliate by pulling his hair and turning your head toward him, biting his lower lip. He chuckles, his thrusts becoming more urgent.

When you can’t hold on anymore, you scream his name, euphoria taking over you as your vision goes blank.

“That's it,” he murmurs, his rhythm faltering as your walls clench around him. “Take all of me.”

Yeosang follows you with a guttural moan, spilling inside you before collapsing against your chest, both of you breathing heavily in the aftermath.

When your heart rates finally return to something resembling normal, he lifts his head, a smug smile playing on his lips. He kisses you softly, pulling you closer.

“You really are the devil in disguise,” you say giggling.

“Maybe…” he says nonchalantly. “But now you’re mine.”

[nyxencrypted]

Breaking Point

Summary:

A stubborn makeup artist and Yunho keep dancing around an attraction she doesn’t want to admit out loud. What starts as teasing backstage turns into a dangerous game of tension, power and blurred boundaries, where resisting him becomes almost impossible. Behind smug smiles and sharp comebacks, she’s forced to confront just how quickly desire can push someone past their breaking point.

Notes:

This is for entertainment purposes only and my stories happen only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. Ateez are my main source of inspiration, and others may follow in the future, but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

— — — — — — — — — —

You’re already at the finishing touches on Yunho's makeup. He’s the last one, and he still needs to be perfect like all the others.

"Almost done," you murmur, dusting highlighter along his cheekbones. Your fingers brush against his skin, and you try to ignore the spark that always seems to exist between you, especially when you’re alone.

Yunho's eyes open slowly, meeting yours in the mirror. “You really are good,” he says, his voice excited. “Look at me, I’m hot. You really know how to bring the best out of our features.”

“That's the job,” you replied almost dryly. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t do a good one.”

You put the brush down, looking at him in the mirror. “I believe we’re done, you can go.”

He turns in his chair to face you and you take a step back, pretending to be organising your stuff. Yunho gets up and you feel relieved because it seems he’s leaving, but his eyes are locked on you.

His silver rings brush his lips while his eyes drag slowly down your body. “You get prettier every time you try to fight me,” he says, stepping close enough to steal the air from your lungs. It's annoying how your body betrays you whenever he's near.

Before you can answer, his fingers slide under your chin, his thumb pressing just enough against your lower lip to make your pulse jump.

He smirks. “Makes me wonder how far I could push you before you stop pretending you don't want this.”

You swat his hand away, your cheeks burning. “Yunho, you’re about to go on stage.”

You feel his hand drifting down your body, pulling your skirt up, and for some reason, instead of fighting it, you find yourself adjusting your position to help him, his finger pushing your underwear aside just enough for his fingers to slide between your folds, feeling how wet you are.

“See, it isn’t that hard to stop resisting,” he says with a smirk.

“This isn't the time for this,” you whisper, but you don’t pull away.

“Then when?” he counters, his rings creating a sweet friction between your legs. He pumps one of his long fingers inside you, then two, and whatever words you wanted to say when you opened your mouth come out as a strangled moan.

“Cum for me, baby, let go,” Yunho says, his lips grazing the shell of your ear.

The fact that you tried to resist him for so long and the risk of being caught make you easily shatter, your pussy clenching around his fingers are you fight the urge to scream his name.

“That’s it, baby,” he gentles his moves, holding you while you come down from your high. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

You open your mouth to say something, but from the other side of the door someone calls Yunho’s name with urgency. He shouts that he’s coming, bringing his two fingers to her mouth and licking your juices. You can only stare, licking your lips at the erotic scene.

After helping you straighten your clothes in silence, he looks at you with that stupid smug on his face, before winking and leaving.

“Fuck him!” You mutter to yourself.

— — — — — — — — — —

The hotel hallway is quiet as you swipe your key card, the soft click of the door unlocking a relief after the chaos of the concert. You drop your makeup kit by the door, kicking off your shoes with a grateful sigh.

You are halfway to the bathroom, intent on a long, hot shower to wash the day (and Yunho) away, when the door clicks open again.

You freeze, turning slowly, your eyebrows knitting together as you see Yunho leaning against the doorframe.

“What are you doing here? How did you even get a key?” Your voice is sharp, a poor attempt to mask the way your heart is hammering against your ribs.

“I have my ways,” he dismisses, pushing off the frame and stalking towards you. He’s still in his stage clothes, the dark fabric clinging to his sweat-dampened frame. “We weren't finished.”

“We were completely finished,” you insist, taking a few steps back, only to find yourself trapped against the edge of the bed. “You need to leave.”

“You’re starting this again?” Yunho asks, his eyebrow raised.

“This is my room, Yunho. Get out.”

“No,” he says, crowding you until the backs of your knees hit the mattress and you fall back onto the duvet. He follows you down, caging you in with his body, his knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your thighs. “You liked it earlier. I felt how tight you got around my fingers, even when you heard people outside.”

“Shut up,” you breathe, turning your head away, but he just grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“No. You're going to listen to me,” he commands, his free hand sliding up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your skirt up with it. His fingers are hot against your skin, tracing the edge of your underwear. “You've been teasing me for two weeks. Bending over just a little too much. 'Accidentally' brushing against me. You think it doesn’t drive me crazy?”

He doesn’t wait for a response. He hooks his fingers in the lace of your panties and rips them off, a gasp escaping your lips. He tosses the ruined fabric aside, his eyes darkening as he looks down at you, exposed and already wet for him.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” he murmurs. “Tell me you don’t want this too, and I’ll stop.”

He lowers his head to your neck, his teeth scraping against your pulse point as his hand slides between your legs. His fingers find your clit with unerring accuracy, circling it before sliding lower to dip into your entrance. Your hips buck against his hand, a choked moan tearing from your throat.

“So responsive,” he praises, his voice a smug whisper. He works you with his fingers, pumping them in and out of your needy pussy, curling them just right until your thighs are trembling. “I bet you're already close, aren't you? So desperate for it.”

You are. God, you are. Just as you feel the first waves of your orgasm begin to crest, he pulls his hand away.

“Noooo,” you whimper, your hips lifting off the bed in a desperate search for friction.

He chuckles, a low, dark sound. “Not like this. I want you to come on my cock this time.”

He makes quick work of his own pants, shoving them down just enough to free himself. He’s already hard, the tip beading with precum. He lines himself up, teasing your entrance with the head of his cock, not pushing in, just letting you feel him there.

“Aren’t you telling me to stop?” he asks. “Because I won’t.”

“Fuck you,” you say, but it lacks real heat.

He smirks and slams into you in one brutal thrust. The force of it steals your breath, stretching you, filling you completely. He sets a punishing pace, driving into you hard enough that the headboard slams against the wall with each thrust.

His silver rings dig into your hip as he hold you in place while he takes what he wants, what you’re so desperately trying to pretend you don’t want to give. The angle is perfect, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting him thrust for hateful thrust.

“Look at you,” he groans, his rhythm faltering slightly. “Taking it so well. So fucking pretty when you're falling apart.”

Your orgasm washes over you, intense and overwhelming, your body arching, and your scream his name shamelessly as your inner walls clenched tightly around him. He follows you over the edge with a guttural groan, burying himself deep inside you as he cums.

He collapses on top of you, and for a moment the only sound is your combined breathing, ragged and loud in the quiet room. He rolls over to tuck you at his side, but not before pressing a surprisingly soft kiss to your forehead.

You crossed a line, there’s no coming back. You stare at the ceiling, trying to find any trace of guilt, but all you can find is satisfaction.

“See, life is beautiful when you stop fighting me,” he says breaking the silence, his voice already regaining its smug edge. And has he pulls your closer to a tender hug, Yunho adds, “Next time don’t make me wait for so long.”

[nyxencrypted]

Slide to Me (part 2 of 2)

Chapter 3: Don't Need to Rush

(Read the first part here)

Notes:

This is for entertainment purposes only and my stories happens only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. Ateez are my main source of inspiration, and others may follow in the future, but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

Y/N’s PoV

The key card feels like it’s burning my hand, holding the weight of every unspoken word between us since that first night. My stomach tightens and my heart slamming against my chest with adrenaline.

For a moment, I just stand staring at my reflection in the dark window of my room. The woman looking back looks determined, but her eyes are wide with a question: Are you really doing this?

Yes. Yes, I am.

The rule of “one night thing” was a lie I kept telling myself to keep the distance from my true feelings. Because even before our lips clashed the first time, I knew I would never forget a night with Yunho. He isn't the type of man you forget easily.

But I don't want to be safe. I want him.

I walk to the closet where I keep my clothes since I arrived. I didn’t bring much but I know I have just what I need. Pushing past the comfortable clothes I usually wear when I’m on vacation and the soft pajamas, my fingers find THE dress. It’s a slip of black silk, simple and elegant, clinging to every curve. It’s the kind of dress you wear when you want to be unwrapped.

I glance at the mirror and after a few deep breaths I decide not to waste time with fancy hairdos or makeup… I’m not sure if he’s waiting… maybe even the dress is too much… so I do something simple and I make my way out of my hotel room.

My bare feet are silent on the plush carpet of the hallway. The elevator ride to the 10th floor is the longest of my life. When the doors open, his door is right there.

I take a breath, press the card to the lock, and can barely register the soft click of the mechanism.

I slip inside, closing the door silently behind me. The room is dim but I spot him immediately. He’s sitting on the edge of the couch, his back to me, his elbows on his knees, staring out at the coffee table like it contains the answers to the most important questions of his life.

He seems to straighten up slightly like he was surprised, but he doesn’t turn. I know he must have heard me come in. Maybe he wasn't expecting me to come. Maybe he’s giving me the space to make the first move.

So I do.

I don’t say a word. I walk past the couch and head straight for the bathroom. I feel butterflies on my stomach, the excitement reaching its peak.

Inside the bathroom, I turn on the faucets of the large tub. The sound of rushing water fills the silence. I watch the tub fill, steam curling into the air, fogging the mirror. When I’m satisfied, I turn off the water and climb in. He didn’t come in yet. Good… it’s exactly what I wanted.

The silk dress instantly clings to my legs, growing heavy and translucent as I sink into the hot water and I sit down, facing the door. It only takes a moment before I hear the soft pad of his footsteps on the floor.

Yunho finally appears in the doorway, and the look on his face is everything I was hoping for and more. After the first initial surprise that only takes a second, his eyes show desire and unguarded awe.

Without a word, he starts to unbutton his jacket, his movements slow and sure. He shrugs it off, letting it fall to the floor. He’s so perfect I still can’t believe he’s real.

Leaving his trousers and shirt on, Yunho lowers himself into the tub behind me, as I make space for him to fit there.

The water rises and he settles against me, his chest warm against my back. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me flush against him and the world outside this hotel room ceases to exist.

His lips find the sensitive skin just below my ear, his breath is a warm whisper against my wet skin as he whispers, “Took you long enough.”

— — — — — — — — — —

Yunho’s PoV

I hear the door unlock and my breath catches. I was starting to worry she wouldn’t come. I have to remind myself to relax because I feel my muscles tensing a little with the expectation. I can’t help but smile, but I don’t turn around… I want to see what she does.

I hear her soft footsteps behind me. I hope she sits next to me… or hugs me from behind… or throws herself into my arms and kisses me fiercely like she did the other night.

But then I listen to her walking further away and I’m confused now. What is that woman thinking?! Was I wrong? But if I was, why did she come here?

And that when I hear it: the running water from the bathtub. She turned the shower on. I feel my smile growing wider again, because what is she plotting? That woman is going to drive me insane.

I slowly walk towards the bathroom of my hotel room, wondering if she decided to take off her clothes and now she’s just waiting for me in the bathtub. I can already picture in my mind her soft curves, her beautiful skin, her pert nipples, her perfect pussy.

But when I get to the door, the vision is even more devastating than that: she’s in a silk dress that clings to her body in the most tantalising way, the water making all details visible, yet not entirely. That makes head spins and my cock twitch inside my trousers from how badly I want to fuck her inside that tub.

I unbutton my jacket, letting it fall to the floor. I don’t care how expensive this suit is… my money can buy more, but a woman that makes me feel the way she does is more difficult to find.

I don’t want to waste any time. This is too late already. So I get inside the tub as well, fuck my trousers and my shirt, I don’t care about it right now. I’m eager to touch her and taste her again.

Wrapping my arms around her waist, my lips search her skin like l’m a man starved and she’s the only thing that can satisfy me. Before I indulge myself with the sweet taste of her, I lean closer and whisper, “Took you long enough.”

My lips meet her skin, travelling down her neck, and she feels amazing on my tongue. I nip at the sensitive spot just below her ear, feeling her shiver against me, and I smile against her neck from such a simple reaction. I trail my kisses down to her shoulder, sucking gently on the pulse point, marking her.

One of my hands slides up, cupping her breast. The silk of her dress is soaked now, making every detail hyper-real. I pinch her nipple between my thumb and forefinger, rolling it to a hard peak, and she gasps, arching her back into my touch. I squeeze her breast firmly, my fingers sinking into the soft flesh, savoring the weight of her in my hand, groaning against her neck.

I need more. I need all of her.

My other hand slips down between her legs. The fabric plastered against her, but I don't care. I’m happily surprised that she has no underwear because it makes everything easier. Good… she really does want this as much as I do.

I push my fingers through the wet silk of her dress and find her ready for me. I slide two fingers inside her, feeling her perfect pussy clamp around me instantly.

She moans, burying her face in her hands, and I take the opportunity to lean over her, my chest pressing against her back. My cock is trapped against her spine, rock hard, aching to be buried inside her. 

I start to pump my fingers, slowly at first. I have to take some control of this situation because she’s been driving me insane, even if she doesn’t know how much.

“Yunho,” she whispers, like she can’t catch her breath. I want to wreck her so badly she won’t think about anyone else but me, so I start moving faster, matching the rhythm of the water lapping against the sides of the tub.

“You like this, uh? Like this, baby?” I ask, but already know the answer. Her body doesn’t lie.

She can only nod. I bet if she could see the smirk I have on my face she would tell me to fuck off, but how could I not be when I’m leaving her like this using just two fingers?

My thumb finds her clit, and I rub it gently as I keep pumping my fingers, her pussy spasming already. Her moans are echoing in these walls and I know she’s close.

I squeeze her breast again, grounding myself, because my body is asking for some delicious friction, to find release… but not yet. I need to hear her scream my name first. I need to make sure she won’t forget tonight. That she’ll be back again.

So I pinch her nipple, rolling it again between my fingers as I work on her sweet cunt. She hisses and I ease the pain by stroking her hard peak. When she relaxes, I pinch it again and she moans louder than ever.

“Let go for me, baby,” I murmur against her skin, biting the lobe of her ear.

She cries out, her body tensing as her orgasm crashes over her. She clenches down on my fingers, her inner walls fluttering rhythmically. Her head falls back, her eyes rolling in ecstasy. I keep moving my hand until she’s completely spent, her body going limp against mine.

I pull my hand out of her and wrap my arms tighter around her waist, pulling her back against my chest, holding her as her breathing slowly steadies.

"You're beautiful," I tell her, running my fingers through her wet hair and pressing a kiss to her temple. "You have no idea how perfect you look right now." This is the one-hundred percent true.

I feel her body relaxing completely against me, the heat of her skin a comfortable weight against my chest. Then, slowly, she sits up. The water in the tub swells and splashes against the porcelain, a rhythmic accompaniment to the silence between us.

She turns in my arms, facing me. I’m still amazed by how her silk dress is clinging to her like a second skin, translucent and wet, outlining every curve of her body. Her eyes are dark, filled with a hunger that matches my own, and she doesn't say a word. She just moves.

She leans forward, crashing her lips onto mine. It’s a desperate, hungry kiss, her tongue tangling with mine, teeth grazing lips. I kiss her back with everything I have, tasting her, memorizing her.

She tugs sharply at my tie, pulling me down until my forehead rests against hers, her eyes burning into mine. With a fluid motion, she loosens the silk knot, letting the fabric slide from her fingers to pool around my collar. Her hands move to my shirt, her fingers deftly undoing the buttons one by one. I watch her intently, her breath hitching as she pays attention to how the damp white (now transparent) fabric clings to my chest. The lust growing in her gaze makes me harder by the second.

I groan, my hands flying to her waist, gripping her hips. She’s in control now, and I love it.

Chapter 4: Just Keep me Close

Y/N’s POV

The water in the tub has gone cool, but it does so little to tame the fire burning inside me right now. I pull away from Yunho, gasping for air, and as I sit up, water cascades down my body. The steam from the bathroom is thick, fogging the mirrors, creating a world that exists only for us.

We stand up together. The water is heavy on my silk dress, and it’s starting to feel uncomfortable. 

Yunho stands next to me, water dripping from his hair and soaking his expensive shirt. He doesn't seem to care; his eyes are fixed on me with a hunger that makes my knees weak.

As we make our way out the bathroom and towards his bedroom, we keep kissing, our hands all over each other. We start to undress, the wet fabric sliding off our skin effortlessly, and it feels almost like we’re dancing together, our bare feet making quiet splashes on the floor.

The silk dress pools at my feet, and Yunho shoves his shirt off, his muscles slick with water. We move towards his bed, falling onto it. The sheets are dry and crisp, a stark contrast to our wet bodies. Yunho is on his back, looking up at me, his chest heaving. He looks so beautiful like this.

I climb over him, my knees sinking into the mattress. I want to taste him. I want to show him exactly how much he affects me. I use one of my hands to stroke him, his big cock hard as rock. My mouth waters and I lick my lips, seeing Yunho mimicking the gesture with his tongue.

I lower myself down, taking him into my mouth, and I take him deep. The sensation is electric. I use my tongue, my hands, every ounce of skill I have, swirling around him, sucking hard. He groans, his hands tangling in my wet hair, guiding my head. My whole body tingles, already begging for him again.

He tastes like the man I can't live without, even if we've only been together once before. He's addictive, soft and merciless all at once, the type of man that whose touch can melt you, but also leaves a mark on your soul even if you don't want to. I look up at him through my lashes, my mouth full of him, and he watches me with dark, dilated eyes, his mouth opened. I go faster, deeper, determined to make him lose control.

— — — — — — — — — —

Yunho’s POV

Fuck, I love the feeling of her mouth around my cock. It’s taking everything to maintain some control. This has to be the best blowjob of my life, another reason for her to be so irresistible, and for me to feel so obsessed with her. She knows exactly what I need.

My hand tightens in her hair, pulling her up gently but firmly. I need to stop her just as I feel myself about to tip over the edge.

“Wait,” I breathe, my voice rough, strained.

She freezes immediately. There’s a flicker of confusion in her eyes, maybe a hint of disappointment, but she doesn’t fight me. 

I look at her like this: lips wet and swollen, hair a mess, eyes dark with need… it nearly ruins me.

I sit up, pushing her back against the pillows. I take my time looking at her, letting the moment stretch, letting her feel it. Adoration twists with something darker in my chest as I hold her gaze.

“My turn,” I growl.

I spread her legs wide, my eyes dragging down her body, taking her in like a starving man… because I am, for her. When I lower myself between her thighs, she’s already trembling.

The second my tongue touches her, she arches off the bed.

I don’t rush it. I want to feel everything. I taste her slowly, dragging my tongue through every sensitive fold, savoring the heat, the slickness, the proof of what I do to her. I love her taste, and I want to feel it even whe we're not together. When I suck gently on her clit, I feel her react instantly, sharp and helpless. She moans, hands gripping the sheets, hips bucking up into my mouth exactly like I knew they would.

— — — — — — — — — —

Y/N’s POV

This has to be the best feeling in the world, his tongue and lips on me. I feel like I’m being worshiped. My thoughts are getting hazy with pleasure, and if that wasn’t enough, Yunho is now climbing up, tracing every bit of skim with his tongue, pressing open mouth kisses that set me even more on fire.

His muscles shift under the damp skin, and I watch him with bated breath, my legs trembling where they are spread wide for him. He takes one of my nipples in his mouth and I can’t control the gasp that comes out of my mouth when he bites it, licking it to soothe right after.

Yunho keeps shifting, his lips grazing my neck and making me feel shivers down my spine, until he kisses me with more passion anyone has ever kissed me before. He positions himself between my thighs, his hands gripping my hips, anchoring me to the mattress.

He aligns himself with my entrance, and I arch my back, my pussy eager to be filled by him. He pushes in slowly, agonizingly, filling me completely. The sensation is overwhelming, a stretch so perfect that makes me forget how to breathe for a moment. He stops for a second, as I adjust, his forehead resting against mine, his breathing ragged.

Then, he starts to move.

He pulls out almost all the way and thrusts back in hard, hitting a spot deep inside me that makes me see stars. The bed sheets are damp from our bath, making the friction slick and intense. He slarts slow, but soon he sets a punishing rhythm, driving us both higher and higher.

"Yunho," I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders, feeling myself getting closer to the edge quickly.

He kisses me again, sloppier and deeper, his hips slamming into mine with every stroke.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, meeting his thrusts with my own. He grabs my hips, his fingers digging into my skin. That's going to leave a mark, I'm sure, but I'll wear it proudly. 

"I'm so close, baby," he warns, his voice breaking. "Tell me you’re gonna cum with me."

"I’m close too,” I breathe, my pussy already clamping down on him like a vice, and my body asking me to scream his name.

— — — — — — — — — —

Yunho’s POV

Her sweet scream of my name is the trigger. The last thread of my control snaps. I drive into her one last time, burying myself to the hilt. I stay deep inside her, feeling the tight walls of her pussy clamping down on me like a vice.

The sensation is blinding. The heat of my release explodes, spilling into her in hot, thick ropes. It feels like liquid fire, branding her as mine. I groan against her neck, my hips jerking as I ride out the waves of ecstasy, emptying everything I have into her.

I collapse on top of her, my chest heaving against hers, sweat mixing with the damp sheets. My legs are trembling, and my vision is swimming. I hold her tight, as if I’m afraid if I let go, she’ll disappear.

I kiss the top of her head, my breathing ragged.

"Come here, baby," I whisper against her hair, my voice raw and hoarse. "I want to keep you close."

— — — — — — — — — —

8 a.m.

Yunho’s POV

The first thing I’m aware of is the sunlight. It’s not harsh; it’s a soft, golden light filtering through the gap in the curtains, painting stripes across the tangled mess of the sheets. The second thing I’m aware of is her.

She’s curled into my side, her head resting on my chest, her breathing a soft, steady rhythm against my skin. One of her legs is thrown over mine, a possessive weight. I shift slightly, just enough to fully see her face.

In the morning light, she’s even more beautiful, wearing a soft, peaceful expression. Her lips are slightly parted, and a few strands of her hair are stuck to her cheek. I reach out with my free hand, my fingers barely brushing the stray strand away from her face. She stirs, her nose scrunching slightly, but she doesn’t wake.

I feel myself smiling. The frantic energy that’s been humming under my skin for days is finally gone. In its place is a deep, resonant peace.

She shifts again, this time her eyes fluttering open. They’re hazy with sleep, and for a moment, she just blinks up at me. Then, recognition dawns, and a slow, shy blush spreads across her cheeks. It’s the most endearing thing I’ve ever seen.

"Morning, beautiful," I say, my voice still rough from sleep.

"Morning," she whispers back, her voice soft. She starts to pull away, apparently suddenly self-conscious, but I tighten my arm around her, holding her in place.

"Don't," I murmur, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her forehead. "Stay."

She relaxes against me, her head finding its place on my chest again. I run my hand down her back, tracing the line of her spine. This... I always wanted this and I guess I didn't really realised it until now. We lie in comfortable silence for a while, just listening to each other breathe.

"Yunho?" she says after a while, her voice muffled against my skin.

"Hmm?"

“Us..."

I wait, my heart starting to beat a little faster.

She looks up at me, her eyes serious.

"It wasn't just one night for me."

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. I cup her face in my hand, my thumb stroking her cheek.

"It was never just one night for me, either," I say, my voice firm and sure. "Without you, I was drowning."

I lean down and kiss her, a soft, gentle kiss that’s full of all the things I couldn’t say before. It’s a promise. A beginning.

When I pull back, she’s smiling, a real, genuine smile that reaches her eyes. I pull the covers up over us, wrapping her in my arms, and hold her close.

"Let's stay here today," I whisper. "Just us."

She nods, snuggling closer. "Okay."

And in that quiet morning light, with her in my arms, I know I’m finally where I want to be.

[nyxencrypted]

Slide to Me (Part 1 of 2)

Chapter 1: I Got You on My Mind

Summary:

The MV for Slide to Me inspired me to write this, but it’s only one of many interpretations I have of it. This is also my first time writing a dual POV fiction, as this story felt right to be told that way, and I’d love any feedback you can give me on this style.

Notes:

This is for entertainment purposes only and my stories happens only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. Ateez are my main source of inspiration, and others may follow in the future, but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

Three days after that first night

Yunho’s POV

The memory hits me like a slow burn as I trace the edges of the hallway.

A few nights ago… her laugh was bouncing off the walls of my room, effortless, curling around me like smoke. The bottle between us, half-empty, sweating under our fingertips, and the way her eyes caught mine when I poured another glass… God, I can’t forget the way she looked at me. Like she knew I was already half undone.

I remember leaning back against the doorframe, the music low in the background, letting her lean close just to whisper something I can’t even recall. Doesn’t matter. What matters is the way the air between us thickened, the way her breath ghosted over my jaw, the way my hand brushed hers… barely, just the tips of our fingers grazing, and how that single touch sent a current through me that didn’t fade when she left.

The empty glasses were forgotten on the coffee table. The mirror in my bedroom quickly got fogged, slicked with condensation from our breaths mingling as we moved together. I can still feel the warmth of her body pressed against mine, the soft sighs that escaped her lips and felt like music to my ears, the stolen moments pressed into the dark corners of my mind.

I keep replaying it.

The tilt of her head as she looked up at me.

The curve of her smile as she let me close the distance.

The way she didn’t pull away.

I shouldn’t. I tell myself that every damn time I walk these corridors. I tell myself to forget her, to move on, to stop letting her haunt me like this. But I can’t. I keep thinking about her like that: the pull of her weight against me, the taste of her on my lips, the way her laugh became a private echo in my head, playing on loop when I’m alone.

And every time I walk these halls, I feel it all again: that soft gravity pulling me toward her. Not just toward her body, but toward the way she looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered. Like she wanted me just as badly as I wanted her.

This memory isn’t in the past… not really. It’s here. Alive. Crawling along my nerves. She’s in every shadow, every flicker of light, teasing me, daring me not to want her.

And I do.

I want her.

More than I should.

Chapter 2: Shall We Dance?

A week after that first night

6 p.m.

Y/N’s PoV

The elevator doors slide shut, sealing me inside with Yunho.

I don’t need to look up to know it’s him. The air had changed the moment he stepped in. I keep my eyes glued to my phone screen, pretending to scroll, but my thumb is frozen mid-swipe and I’m not really seeing anything on the screen. I feel my heart hammering against my ribs in a stupid rhythm I can’t control.

It was supposed to be a one night thing. That was the rule. But now here he is right in front of me, looking absolutely devastating.

I can’t lie to myself. One night wasn’t enough for me. And the scarier part is, I don’t know if I can do it again without falling even harder. God, why does he have such power over me? 

Yunho is leaning against the mirrored wall of the elevator, one shoulder casually pressed against the cool glass. I glance at him: dark, perfect hair, sharp jawline, his coat hanging on his hand behind his back, eyes fixed on me. A subtle smile plays on his lips.

The details of the night we were together are still very present in my mind. How could they not be?! That night was intense in the best way.

The elevator began its ascent. I can feel his gaze like a physical touch, tracing the line of my neck, the curve of my shoulder, making its way up to my lips.

I try to think about something to say but no words come out. My mind is blank except for the memories of him and how much I wish he’d pin me up against the wall right in this moment and fuck me senseless.

He doesn’t say a word, but I feel a magnetic pull that makes my skin prickle. And when our eyes meet, his smile widens, just a fraction.

I smile back, but when he’s about to say something, the elevator dings on my floor and I step to the hallway. He seems to try to reach me, but when I turn around to fully face him the elevator doors are already closing, and he goes up.

I stay there until I see the elevator stop on the 10th floor… his floor, and only then I make the way to my hotel room, when I see the elevator is not coming back down immediately. Maybe he doesn’t care that much.

— — — — — — — — — —

Yunho’s POV

I didn’t do this on purpose… but being on this elevator with her is making my heart beat so fucking fast I’m scared it’s going to jump out of my ribcage and fall at her feet.

I lean back against the mirrored wall of the elevator, trying to remain collected, hoping the cool steel pressed against my shoulder helps to ease the fire burning inside me. A futile attempt, to be honest. 

She’s pretending to scroll on her phone, but her thumb stopped moving. And I can’t take my eyes off her.

Her breathing is getting shallow, and I bet her heartbeat matches the frantic rhythm of mine.

I want to say something, but everything I think about seems so little compared to what I feel. So I remain silent, hoping she breaks the silence.

The memory of her skin against mine makes my eyes drift… how I wish I could leave a mark on her neck right now… I can’t help but to travel to her shoulder, remembering how it felt the first time I undressed her, seeing her bare naked… perfect. My cock twitches inside my trousers, and I’m forced to look away, but my eyes stop on her lips… I don’t know why I’m torturing myself like this.

I finally meet her eyes, and she’s looking at me too. I can’t stop a stupid smile and my breath hitches when she smiles back.

The elevator dings, the doors sliding open onto the hallway. When I see her walking out, I try to reach out for her, but I hesitate… and then I’m not fast enough. The last thing I see it’s her beautiful face staring back at me while the door slides closed again.

When I get to the 10th floor I think about going back down to her room. There’s no way this could be only a one night thing… not for me, and seeing the hunger in her eyes, I believe she feels the same. But how can I be sure? The only fucking thing I’m sure is I can’t stop thinking about her.

I lay down in my bed, trying to shake these feelings off for the millionth time these last few days, and go back to my normal life.

– . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – . – 

1 a.m.

Yunho’s POV

I glance at the clock… Jerking off thinking about her isn’t enough anymore.

I get up and grab a piece of paper, choosing my words. I want it simple but implying the many things I’m feeling.

“I got you on my mind”

I put the paper and the spare key card to my room inside a red envelope.

I don’t know why I decide to dress in a good suit and a tie like I’m going on a date, but that’s what I do. Looking at the mirror I feel my heart racing, my hands shaking a little, but I’m ready. Confident. 

I leave my room and descend to her floor, my heart on my throat despite being sure of what I’m doing. Maybe she’s asleep… but I’m doing this anyway.

I slide the envelope underneath her door and I knock, trying not to be too loud, and I quickly go upstairs again. I sit on the couch, my own heartbeat is a drum in my ears.

And I wait.

— — — — — — — — — —

Y/N’s POV

I’m in bed but I can’t sleep. I feel restless and every time I close my eyes I see him, us, and my whole body aches with need and longing.

That’s when I hear a rustling at my door, then a gentle knock. I get up in a rush to open it but no one is on the other side. The hallway is empty. 

I run to the elevators in time to see the indicator light flicker past my floor and continue its ascent, stopping finally on the 10th floor.

Yunho…

Trying to collect my thoughts, I go back to my bedroom. My bare feet touch something and that’s when I see it: a red envelope lies on the wooden floor.

Inside, a key card like the one I use to unlock my hotel room, only with a different number on it.

And handwritten message:

“I got you on my mind” 

[nyxencrypted]

Sweet Valentine: After Hours with Wooyoung

Summary:

Wooyoung is the kind of trouble that never asks for permission, and goes after what he wants. Y/N is the kind of girl who’s spent years pretending she doesn’t want him. Valentine’s Day is a good excuse to try his luck again.

Notes:

This is a gift to my dear Asia (auxiny). I'm sorry it came so late, it was supposed to be a Christmas gift. Hope you like it 🫶

This is for entertainment purposes only and my stories happens only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. Ateez are my main source of inspiration, and others may follow in the future, but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

— — — — —

The day was busy, and all you wanted right now was to go home. The library was quiet, the last person having left, and you were sitting in the silence of the space finishing some work before leaving. These were your days, or at least part of it, and you were okay with the routine. But that Friday, the rhythm was shattered.

The low, unmistakable roar of a motorbike engine rolled down the street before cutting off right outside.

You froze. The door swung open and you didn’t even have to look up to know who just got in. Perfect hair in a man bun, leather jacket, still with his helmet in his hand.

Wooyoung… A family friend, former classmate and (most importantly) professional menace.

He always had that same infuriatingly confident smile that would make your knees weak since you were sixteen, but tonight wasn’t the time to be friendly.

“We’re closed,” you say automatically, not even glancing up from the stack of returns you’ve already organized twice, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

He walks towards you, his boots almost silent on the worn carpet, moving with unnerving grace.

“Hi to you too,” he replies smoothly. “I’m looking for a book.”

You finally look at him.

“And I said we’re closed,” your voice comes out sharp and confident, in contrast to the nervousness you were really feeling inside.

Wooyoung leans a hip against your desk, his proximity making the air feel thick. “Something about classic motorcycles. Restoration, maybe,” he insists, looking around.

That ticks a nerve and with a huff of frustration, you stand up from your chair. “Are you deaf because of the loud noises of your bike?

He pretends to pout. “I thought librarians were supposed to be welcoming.”

“I’m welcoming during business hours. You can’t just walk in here whenever you want, Woo.”

That makes him look at you with a serious face.

“I said… we’re… closed,” you repeat.

He leans casually against your desk. “Good thing I’m not here for a book then.”

That makes you pause.

“I’m here to take you out,” Wooyoung adds with a cheeky smile.

You close your eyes briefly and you let out a huff.

“Wooyoung.”

“Y/N,” his smile doesn’t falter.

“I already said no. Three times.”

You don’t know why you keep resisting. Or how. His beauty and his rebel side gave him the romantic rebel vibe that makes it easy for him to get everything he wants… or anyone.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids,” Woo says, voice dropping slightly. “Our parents have been friends since they’re kids. We survived the same high school. You used to copy my math homework.”

“I did not copy…”

“You absolutely did.”

You glare at him. He looks pleased.

“You were the one copying my homework,” you say firmly. “And I am not going on a date with you.”

“Why not?” he asks, tilting his head, genuinely curious.

Because you’ve seen the way people look at him, like he’s the most perfect man in the world and they want to do anything for him.

Because he’s reckless and rides a motorbike like he has nothing to lose, and that makes him even more attractive.

Because when he smiles at you like that, you forget how to breathe.

Instead, you say, “Because you don’t take anything seriously.”

His expression shifts, just a flicker, before the teasing smile returns.

“I’m taking this seriously.”

“You showed up at my workplace. After closing. I told you to go away, and you’re… still here.”

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t have an excuse.”

You cross your arms. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re avoiding me.”

Silence hangs between you, charged with something you don’t know how to name.

He steps a little closer, just enough that you can smell his cologne.

“One date,” he says quietly. “If you hate it, I’ll stop asking.”

You swallow.

“Wooyoung…” You don’t know if you’re losing your patience or your will to resist him.

“Come on…” he insists, pouting a little again, and that makes him adorable and you hate it. “Be my Valentine?”

There. He knows you for so long, he knows where to hit. You’ve been single for a while, and it’s not like you care too much about this date because you believe you can commemorate romance every day… but Wooyoung knows you’re a romantic and would never pass an invitation like this.

That’s why he’s watching you like he already knows your answer. Like he’s been waiting years for it.

“I mean…” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish.

His hand comes up to cup your face, making your cheeks burn and your heart hammer against your chest. His skin is soft and warm, his touch surprisingly gently, but it makes your core tingle.

"You know," he murmurs, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin of your cheek. "You seem so prim and proper… always did… like you’re just waiting to be messed up."

Your breath hitches. This is going too far. You should push him towards the exit and walk away, but you’re rooted to the spot, your body betraying you.

“Fuck you,” you blurt out.

Your curse hangs in the air doing nothing but amuse him. A mischievous smile spreads across his face. His hand travels down your neck like a caress, then your shoulder and your arm, making you feel goosebumps, and holding your elbow just enough to keep you close.

"Is that a promise or a threat, baby girl?"

You try to pull away again, a futile gesture that only makes Wooyoung’s smile widen. He takes a step closer, invading the last bit of personal space, and either it’s your imagination, or you can feel the heat radiating from his leather-clad chest. Your lips part but no words come out, just a soft, slow breath.

"I think you are actually a little curious and you’re just being stubborn,” he says, to break the silence.

He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice dropping to a whisper that sends a shiver straight down your spine.

“Let me make it up for being a pain in the ass… Just ride with me?"

Wooyoung is looking at you with such tenderness that your resolve starts crumbling, and you hate him for it.

“I’m wearing a skirt,” you try to find an excuse to make him forget about this.

“I have an extra pair of pants on my top case that you can wear while you’re on the bike”, he replies defiantly.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath. When you open them, you let curiosity win.

"Fine," you breathe out. “Let me just wrap up stuff around here, I’ll meet you outside.”

Without a word he pecks your cheek, making you stop breathing for ten seconds, while you see him walk away. You take a long deep breath and you get things ready to leave.

– – – – – – – – – –

When you finally leave the library, Wooyoung is leaning against his bike with that perfect face that makes your knees weak. You trip over your own feet, feeling your cheeks burn from both the clumsiness and the sight of him. Wooyoung smirks, looking proud because he knows he has that effect on you, even if you don’t admit it out loud.

“Hi,” his voice is gentle and he’s looking at you like it’s the first time he’s seeing you tonight.

“Hi,” you reply a bit shyly.

“Are you ready?” He hands you a helmet.

You look at his motorbike and nod. Of course you wondered several times how it would feel like to ride with him, the feeling of being so close to him, the sense of freedom he always talked about. You just never let yourself dwell too much on those thoughts. You fumble with the strap of the helmet, your fingers trembling slightly.

“Let me help you put this on."

Woo reaches out, his gentle fingers brushing yours as he helps you fasten it. You swing your leg over the seat, your movements clumsy, and settle behind him. The position feels even more intimate than you anticipated.

"Hold on," he says, his voice muffled by his helmet.

You hesitate for a moment but he holds your hands and places them around his waist with confidence.

"Like this," he commands. "Tight."

You take a deep breath and with your arms around his waist, you press yourself against his back. Before you can even register anything else about how close you are, Wooyoung starts the engine.

The world explodes into a glorious roar: the same one you listen to every time he’s around.

The bike vibrates beneath you, making you a little more nervous. Like he’s sensing it, Wooyoung gives your hand a gentle squeeze before he pulls away from the curb and starts driving.

The wind feels cold but you don’t care much about it. You tighten your grip on Wooyoung, a laugh bubbling up from your chest. Wooyoung was right: it feels like freedom.

He drives out of the city, following winding roads that climb into the hills. He stops after a while, apparently sure this is a good place, cutting the engine.

He kicks the stand and gets off, then turns to help you. As you swing your leg over, your knees feel like jelly. He takes your helmet off, his fingers lingering at your jaw for a moment before he removes his own.

"So?" he asks, his voice soft. "Was that too bad?"

You’re still buzzing from the ride, from the proximity of him, from the thrill of it all.

"It's a start," you say, a boldness you didn't know you possessed surging through you.

Wooyoung laughs. "I knew it."

He steps closer, crowding your space until you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "You were always the quiet girl. I wanted to know what it would take to make that world shake for you."

"You're doing a pretty good job," you breathe.

His gaze drops to your lips. "Good." And then he kisses you without further notice, cupping your face with both his hands, like it’s an urgent need.

The kiss is demanding and deep. When Wooyoung finally pulls back, you’re feeling dazed, your lips are tingling. He rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

"Stay with me," he murmurs. "Just for a little while. I’ve been wanting to watch the stars with you."

You simply take his hand, lacing your fingers through his, and he leads you to the stone wall at the edge of the overlook. You sit down together, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close.

“I know I joke around a lot,” he says suddenly, after a moment of shared silence. “I know some people might not take me seriously. I’ve heard a lot of things about me over the years. But I want you to know something, Y/N.”

You can feel your heart pounding as he makes a move to face you fully, holding both your hands and squeezing before he continues.

“I am serious about you. I liked you a lot when we were little kids. And in high school…” he lets out a soft laugh. “I fell for you. And since then, I can’t get you out of my head. And believe me, I tried. You kept pushing me away and wanted to respect your space, but at the same time I couldn’t stop coming back to you.”

You’re speechless. You know he’s been trying to take you on a date for some time, but this?! And the way he’s speaking… the way he’s looking at you… damn, that man is the most beautiful sight in the whole world.

You don’t let him speak anymore. It’s your turn to kiss him and you can feel him suppress a giggle. His hands start roaming your body, and you forget where you are.

"Wooyoung," you breathe, your head falling back as his lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

You undress the pants he lent you because it suddenly feels too hot.

"I've wanted to do this for so long," he growls against your skin, pulling you to straddle him.

You feel dizzy but you know this is exactly where you want to be. His hands are everywhere, then your coat, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of your shirt, his impatience turning-on even more.

“Why do clothes have to be so stubborn?!” he lets out, making you giggle, but all you can focus on is the hard press of his body between your legs and the way his hands are molding your breasts as soon as he manages to undress it, his thumbs brushing over your pebbled nipples through the thin lace.

The cool air is a shock against your heated skin, but it’s nothing compared to the shock of his warm mouth closing over one tight peak. He sucks hard, his tongue swirling, his teeth grazing in a way that was just on the edge of pain, sending a jolt straight to your core. You arch into him, your fingers digging into the leather of his jacket, a moan tearing from your lips.

Wooyoung’s hand slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt up around your hip. His fingers hook into the side of your panties, and you lift your hips to help him as he drags them down your legs.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he whispers between ragged breaths. “I come here a lot when I need to be alone… nobody ever comes here.”

You were about to say “but it’s Valentine’s Day” and something else about other people searching for secluded spots, but you forget about all that when Wooyoung slides his fingers through your slick folds and you pussy clenches around nothing, another moan escaping you.

"So fucking wet for me," Wooyoung murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction.

He finds your clit, circling it deliciously, before sliding two fingers deep inside you. You cry out, your walls clamping down around him. He sets a perfect rhythm, pumping his fingers in and out as his thumb works your clit.

"Eyes on me, baby girl" he commands, his voice rough. You force your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze, and he’s looking at you with a smug. "I want to watch you cum. Right here. Cum on my fingers."

The combination of his skilled fingers, his words, and the sight of his hungry eyes sends you flying over the edge. Your orgasm crashes, powerful, stealing your breath and leaving you trembling. You scream his name as you pulse around his fingers.

Wooyoung doesn't stop, drawing out your pleasure until you are a panting mess.

Your body is still humming, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your limbs feel like liquid. You’re slumped against him, your head on his shoulder, trying to remember how to form coherent thoughts. Wooyoung’s fingers are still buried inside you, and he presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You with me, baby girl?” he asks, his voice low against your ear.

You manage a weak nod, lifting your head to look at him. The smug satisfaction on his face is still there, but it’s softened by something else, something more intense. Wooyoung slowly withdraws his fingers, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness.

He shifts beneath you, the hard line of his erection pressing insistently against you through the layers of his jeans. He’s ready. More than ready. But he doesn’t move to undress himself or to position you. Instead, he leans back on his elbows on the cool stone, his leather jacket creaking softly. He looks up at you, licking his lips slowly.

“Your turn,” he says, his voice barely a whisper.

Your head is still foggy, “My turn?”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says simply, a wicked smile spreading across his face. Then he reaches up, his hand cupping the back of your neck, his thumb stroking your skin. “I want you to fuck me, Y/N.”

The words, so blunt and raw, send a fresh jolt of heat through you. The way he’s looking at you, like you’re a goddess he’s been waiting to worship, makes a unfamiliar power surge through your veins.

Still straddling his lap, with the fabric of your skirt bunched around your hips, you take off his leather jacket. His eyes follow your every move as you reach for the hem of his t-shirt, your fingers brushing against the warm skin of his stomach. He lifts his arms obediently, letting you pull the shirt over his head and toss it aside.

Your hands explore the expanse of his chest, your palms gliding over the smooth, firm muscle. Wooyoung is beautiful, all smooth skin, and the way he shivers under your touch makes your pussy tingle. You lean down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone, nipping at the skin just hard enough to make him hiss.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he groans, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

You rock against him, a slow, deliberate friction that has both of you breathing harder. You can feel how much he wants you, his hard cock straining against his zipper. You move back, your fingers making quick work of his belt and the button of his jeans. He lifts his hips to help you, and you tug both his jeans and his boxers down.

He’s perfect in your hands, hot and heavy. You had the idea that Wooyoung had a big cock, but seeing it makes your mouth water. You wrap your fingers around him, stroking him slowly, watching his face contort with pleasure. Wooyoung’s head falls back, his eyes fluttering shut.

“Shit… don’t tease,” he pants.

“I’m not teasing,” you whisper, leaning down to flick your tongue over the tip.

He bucks his hips with a choked moan, and you smile against him. You take him into your mouth, just for a moment, savoring the taste of him before pulling away. He looks utterly wrecked, his eyes dark with lust, his lips parted, his chest rising and lowering.

“You’re killing me,” he breathes.

“Am I?” you ask with a sly smile.

You rise up on your knees, positioning him at your entrance. You’re so wet, so ready, that the head of his cock slides against your slick folds easily. You look down at him, meeting his gaze, your heart beating frantic, your pussy begging for him.

“Is this what you wanted, Wooyoung?” you ask, your voice a low purr.

“God, yes,” he chokes out. “Ride me. Please. Let's get to the real noise."

You sink down onto him slowly, taking him inch by inch, the delicious stretch making you both gasp. You pause for a moment, adjusting to the feeling of being so completely full, before you start to move. He’s so deep, and you can feel every pulse of his dick inside you. A bead of sweat rolls down his temple.

You set a slow, torturous rhythm, rolling your hips, grinding down on him. His hands grip your thighs, his knuckles white, but he lets you keep control.

“You feel so fucking good,” Wooyoung groans, his eyes glued to where your bodies are joined, watching his cock disappear into you over and over. “So tight… so perfect. Look at how you take me.”

His praise fuels you to pick up the pace. You lean forward, bracing your hands on his chest, your hair falling around your face, sticking to your damp skin. The new angle lets him hit that spot deep inside, the one that makes stars burst behind your eyes. A guttural moan is torn from your throat.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby, fuck me,” he pants, his hands sliding up to grip your ass, spreading your cheeks wider. “Fuck yourself on my cock, baby. Take what you want.”

The sight of him, undone beneath you, is what pushes you over the edge again. Your orgasm slams into you. Your pussy clamps down on his cock, pulsing violently as you cry out his name.

The feeling of your walls milking him is his undoing. With a guttural groan that sounds like your name, he follows you over. His hips thrust up, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you. You can feel the hot, thick spurts of his cum coating your insides, and that makes your orgasm last even longer. He keeps thrusting through his release, his movements becoming jerky and uncontrolled until he’s completely spent.

You collapse against his chest, both of you panting, your bodies slick with sweat. Wooyoung wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you both come down from the high. The night air is cool against your skin, but you’ve never felt warmer.

“I was right, we're a match,” he murmurs, a tired, satisfied smile in his voice.

You laugh, a breathy, happy sound. “Shut up, Wooyoung.”

After a long moment, Wooyoung presses a kiss to the top of your head, shifting beside you, his movements slow and unhurried. He helps you get dressed.

“It’s getting cold,” he says softly.

He then pulls up his bottoms, and reaches for his leather jacket draped over the grass nearby and slips it on, leaving his chest bare under the cool night air. His perfect chest is now your favourite pillow. The leather creaks softly as he settles back, and then he wraps his arms around you again, pulling you close. You rest your cheek against his warm, bare skin, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you. The stars above seem to shine brighter now that’s just the two of you tangled together under the vast sky.

“Happy Valentine’s,” you whisper.

“Happy Valentine’s, baby,” Wooyoung replies.

[nyxencrypted]

Sweet Valentine: Yunho’s Last Hunt

Summary:

On Valentine’s night, the city glows red and hearts are easy to steal. Yunho, a centuries-old demon bound by a cursed contract, preys on the love-struck… until he meets someone immune to his power and a desire he cannot resist.

Notes:

This is for entertainment purposes only and my stories happens only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. Ateez are my main source of inspiration, and others may follow in the future, but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

And or course you by the pictures about you can easily understand this was a little inspired by KPDH.

— — — — —

Valentine’s night. The city glows red. Couples flood the streets, laughing under string lights and heart-shaped lanterns. Music spills from rooftops.

Confessions. Proposals. Promises… Everywhere!

People are distracted by the glamour, making it the perfect night to steal souls.

Yunho stands above it all on a balcony, dressed in black silk, a crimson ribbon wraps around his wrist, a hat that partially overshadows his face.

Every year on Valentine’s, he collects souls. He gives people what they crave most (romance, fantasy, attention) and when their hearts open too wide, when they surrender completely…he takes the spark inside them.

He thought tonight would be easy. But that was until he saw you.

You don’t look enchanted.

You stand near the edge of the rooftop party, unimpressed by the fake roses, the candlelight, the glittering skyline. You don’t lean into anyone. You don’t swoon. You don’t glow with longing like the others.

You only watch, apparently unfazed by the spells that Yunho and his demon’s team unleashed upon the world tonight to make the hunt easier.

When your eyes meet his, you hold eye contact for a little bit, and then you look away again, to the crowd surrounding you.

“Interesting,” he thinks, because usually people don’t hold eye contact that long… not without a reaction.

But you saw him and it seemed like he was just a regular guy… but he wasn’t.

He approaches you smoothly, like he did a thousand times before with a thousand people, a thousand different hearts.

“Not enjoying the romance?” Yunho asks.

“It’s not that,” you reply. “But it feels like everyone’s trying too hard.”

A corner of his mouth lifts.

“Sometimes people need help believing.”

“In love?” you ask dryly.

“In anything.”

He steps closer. The red ribbon around his wrist pulses faintly. No one else can see it, but he feels it. It’s a bind to his contract: steal souls every year, on Valentine’s Day, so he can keep his human appearance and walk among humans.

Why make this contract? He sold his soul to the devil without knowing, and he has been trapped in the underworld ever since… not dead, not really alive. So he asked for permission to come to Earth and live a little of what he lost when he was taken, because he was so young. And he hopes it’s just a matter of time until he finds a loophole, so he can be whole and alive again.

Your gaze flicks down, to the red ribbon.

“What’s that?” you ask.

His smile tightens just slightly. “Just an accessory.”

“Doesn’t match your outfit.”

“You’ve been staring at me long enough to critique it?”

“I stare at disasters too.”

That makes him laugh softly and surprised. You’re not reacting the way you should.

When he brushes his fingers against someone else’s skin, they melt. Their aura glows warm gold, fragile and easy to pull from.

So he gives it a try and reaches for your arm, brushing your skin gently…

Nothing.

No glow. No opening. Just your human heat radiating into his palm.

He leans in closer, lowering his voice. “Do you always resist this hard?”

“Resist what?” You ask, but in your head some things start to make sense.

You’ve been watching him since the party started. Everyone (including yourself) stared at him when he came in. People he spoke to seem to be under some kind of spell, acting all in love with him, but now you can’t find any of them in the crowd, except for one person that seems to be really tired, even ill, falling asleep in a corner. It also explains why, when he looks at you, he seems to be burning into your soul.

“Never mind,” Yunho says, but it’s too late for you to let go of this realization.

You tilt your head.

“I know what you are,” you breathe.

Yunho tries to look confused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Oh, he’s a good actor.

“You think this works on everyone?” You ask with a defiant smile.

He’s about to deny it again but he sees you have no fear. He looks right into your eyes, intensely, not to threaten you, but to try to read you.

“It usually does,” Yunho finally admits, tilting his head to the side.

“Maybe I don’t want what you’re offering,” you tease, even though your heart is hammering against your ribs.

The ribbon burns around his wrist. He should walk away. There are easier targets. But instead, he corners you gently against the railing.

“Then what do you want?” he asks.

“Something real.”

That hits him wrong. “Real,” he whispers, like it’s the biggest enigma of the universe. He doesn’t do real. He manufactures moments. Sparks illusions. Collects souls like currency.

But you? You look at him like you see through the layers. Like you know he’s more than what he seems. Even though he’s been doing what he does for so long, he’s not even sure anymore he was different in the past.

“Careful,” Yunho murmurs. “I’m not the kind of person you chase on Valentine’s.”

“I’m not chasing you.”

“No?” He asks, with an amused smile.

“No.”

“I saw you staring at me most of the night,” he observes.

Of course he did… you saw him looking at you too.

“I won’t deny it,” you say with confidence. “But I wasn’t the one who approached.”

That stings. Because it’s true. Every time he tries to drift toward someone else tonight, since the first time he saw you, his attention slides back to you.

Every time he almost reaches for another glowing heart, he stops.

Because yours isn’t easy to get… And he wants it. He wants your heart and soul.

Not for the contract. Not for the collection.

For himself.

“You’re trouble,” he says quietly.

“You’re worse,” you say with a glorious smile.

The ribbon burns against his skin again like a warning. Take her soul.

He should tilt your chin. Say pretty words. Seduce you. Steal your spark before you even realize it’s gone. Instead, his hand rises slowly… and cups your cheek without taking anything.

Your breath catches. Your expression changes… not blind surrender, but like you’ve been touched by a fire you’ve been secretly desiring. And that reaction. Also ignites something inside him.

That’s real.

“You’re not afraid of me,” Yunho whispers.

“Should I be?” Your voice is a whisper too.

His palm is warm against your skin. You know you should be scared, but you just don’t feel it.

“Yes,” he answers, and his face shows you that one side of him kind of wishes that you were.

“But I’m not,” your voice is sure.

Silence.

The wind caresses your skin but you don’t even acknowledge it. Your sole focus is Yunho. And you know that no matter what his goals were when he came here tonight, his focus is on you… but not as a predator.

His thumb brushes your skin. Yunho feels it then: not your soul opening, not your energy surrendering, but his own chest tightening.

A crack in the contract?

“You’re supposed to fall for it,” he says almost to himself.

“And you’re supposed to take something from me?” you ask softly.

His eyes snap to yours.

“You really know, uh?”

You nod, and your smile turns gentle without you noticing it. “I had a feeling.”

“And you’re still here.”

You step closer… Close enough that his breath falters.

“If you’re going to try,” you whisper, “at least make it worth it.”

That’s when something shifts.

He doesn’t pull from you. He kisses you. Not to drain. Not to claim. But because he wants to. The ribbon burns against his skin, furious. But when he pulls back, you’re still whole.

And for the first time in centuries, he hasn’t taken a soul on Valentine’s night. He doesn’t know why you’re immune… maybe you were burned too much before, maybe your soul is guarded by magic, or maybe it’s the Universe balancing his energy.

His gaze softens, just barely.

“You’re ruining me,” he murmurs, his forehead resting against yours.

You smile slightly. “Good.”

Yunho doesn’t even think when he holds you by the hand and pulls you away from the center of the party, and you don’t think either while you follow him. All you know is there’s an electricity between the two of you that you can no longer ignore.

He finds a secluded alcove hidden behind a cluster of ornate topiaries and a heavy velvet curtain, the city lights painting the space in shifting shades of ruby and gold.

Yunho turns to you, his usual predatory gaze replaced by something raw and searching. His hands, which have stolen countless intangible things, hesitate before they frame your face. His thumbs brush your cheekbones, a touch so reverent it feels like a prayer.

“I’ve never touched anything and not wanted to take from it,” he confesses, his voice a low murmur against the music. “Until you. I don’t want to take anything from you unless it’s to make you mine.”

Your answer is to close the distance, pressing your lips to his. It’s not a kiss of seduction or surrender, but of understanding… like you know what he means even if you’re not the same.

Yunho responds with a groan that seems to come from the depths of his centuries-old loneliness, his hands sliding into your hair to hold you in place. The kiss deepens, a slow, desperate exploration. It’s a conversation without words where he admits his emptiness and you offer your fullness.

His hands move from your hair, tracing the line of your neck, your shoulders, his touch leaving trails of fire on your skin.

He finds the zipper of your dress and pulls it down with agonizing slowness, his knuckles brushing against your spine. The fabric pools at your feet, and he takes a sharp breath, his dark eyes roaming over you as if he’s committing every curve, every inch of skin, to memory. He looks at you not like a predator, but like a starving man who has just found a feast.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispers, the words full of awe.

Yunho sinks to his knees before you, an act of submission that feels more powerful than any dominance he could use.

He presses his lips to your stomach, your hips, the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. His hands grip your waist, holding you steady as he worships you with his mouth, his tongue tracing patterns that make your knees weak.

You thread your fingers through his hair, holding him like an anchor. He’s giving you a kind of pleasure he’s never given, a selfless act of adoration, and the intensity of it builds inside you until you’re trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps. When you finally shatter, a sound that’s both a surrender and a victory spills from your lips.

Yunho rises slowly, his eyes burning with an emotion that’s far more dangerous than lust. You reach for him, your hands fumbling with the buttons of his silk shirt, pushing it off his shoulders to reveal the smooth skin beneath.

You trace the line of his collarbones, down his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart. He shudders under your touch, his control fracturing. When you reach his cock, already leaking precum, and give it a few slow pumps, he groans loudly.

You look down. He’s thick and heavy in your palm, the skin velvety and hot. A prominent vein pulses along the underside.

You tighten your grip slightly, stroking him from base to tip, mesmerized by the sight.

You use your thumb to spread the precum over the head and Yunho shudders, his head falling back. The long, elegant line of his throat is exposed, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows hard. He’s completely undone by this simple touch, and the power of it makes your own body clench with need.

His hands, which had been resting on your hips, now grip you tight, his fingers digging into your flesh. He’s holding on, a muscle ticking in his jaw, fighting the urge to fuck your fist with a desperation that’s thrilling to see.

Yunho finally makes you stop and lays down, pulling you with him and turning you over until he’s on top. Your pussy is soaking wet, and he enters you with a slow, deep thrust.

There’s nothing illusionary about this. It’s raw, it’s honest, it’s real. He moves with a rhythm that’s both punishing and tender, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes locked on yours. In his gaze, you see not a demon, but a man: lost, found, and utterly undone by you.

The red ribbon on his wrist burns faintly, a silent, furious protest, but it’s powerless against this. This moment right here is a magic older and stronger than any contract. His curse is being broken because he found someone who truly desires him, even knowing what he is, but also because he can finally feel something real again.

You meet his thrusts, your bodies moving in perfect sync. It’s a frantic race toward oblivion, a shared need to erase every lie he’s ever told and every lonely night you’ve ever endured.

The world outside this alcove ceases to exist. There is only the slide of skin on skin, the sound of your mingled breaths, and the overwhelming feeling of being seen, truly seen, for the first time.

When the wave of pleasure crashes over you both, it’s simultaneous and all-consuming. A shared cry is swallowed only by the music from the party not too far away.

Yunho buries his face in the crook of your neck, his body trembling with the force of his release. For a long moment, you just stay there, clinging to each other, two souls tangled together in the quiet aftermath.

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his expression soft and vulnerable. He gently lowers you to the ground, his hands lingering on your waist as if he’s afraid to let go.

“You’re definitely ruining me,” he says, but there’s no regret in his voice. Only a profound, terrifying wonder.

You smile, tracing the crimson ribbon on his wrist, now colder because it’s magic has been diminished. You don’t know how you did that, but together you’ll try to find a way to break it.

“You ruined me too,” you say, before you straddle him and kiss him deeply.

Below, hearts continue to break and bloom. But above the city, under red lantern light, the villain forgets his script. And chooses you instead.

[nyxencrypted]

Silent Call: Chapter 5 - Counting Stars

Chapter 1: Here

Chapter 2: Here

Chapter 3: Here

Summary:

As Y/N’s defences crumble, San gets closer. In a rainy day, he’s a warm and protective presence.

Notes:

This is for entertainment purposes only and my stories happens only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. Ateez are my main source of inspiration, and others may follow in the future, but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

- - - - - - - - - -

It wasn’t raining in the morning when you left the house. Why does it have to start raining now, on your lunch break, and apparently it’s not going to stop?! You usually walk home, since you don’t live that far away from the hospital, but there’s no way you’re going to make it today. You have to catch the bus, but it’s always so full during the daytime that it makes your skin itchy. At least you have a moment to exchange a few messages with San. That always makes you feel better, even if you don’t admit it all the time.

San sends you a funny meme and your reaction wasn’t what he expected.

San:

What’s wrong, kitten? Are you okay?

Y/N:

It’s nothing, really.

It just started pouring rain and I didn’t bring my umbrella.

I’m just checking the bus schedules, just in case. I can’t walk home like this.

San:

Maybe it will stop raining.

You still have a few more hours to go.

Y/N:

Yeah, it’s okay.

I’ll catch the bus home, it’s a better option.

San:

Won’t it be packed on a rainy day like this?

Y/N:

DON’T remind me of that fact, please…

You can imagine him chuckling, with those cute dimples on his cheeks and the sweetest smile on his lips. That image make your heart skip a beat.

San:

Sorry, kitten.

Y/N:

Nevermind, it’s not your fault, it’s mine.

I was the one that didn’t take precautions.

Anyway, need to work, talk to you later

The rest of the shift goes by surprisingly quickly. As you finish changing from your hospital scrubs to your clothes, San calls you.

“Hey, Sannie. What’s up?” You ask, as you leave the locker room.

“Just want to give you some support while you’re on your way home,” he answers, his voice hitting you in the heart and warming you up instantly. “Are you done for the day?”

“Yes, I’m on my way out.” You walk along the corridors of the hospital at a fast pace so you don’t miss the bus.

“Okay. It’s still raining. Not like when we spoke earlier, it calmed down a little. You’re still going to take the bus?”

You sigh. “Yes, I think it’s my better option. The upper gods didn’t care about me, and I already asked the underworld deities to stop the rain, but they don’t seem to be listening to me. What if it starts raining more again? I better play safe than sorry.”

“Like you did this morning when you left your house without an umbrella?” He jokes.

“It. Was. Sunny.” You reply, even if you know he’s right. He told you about the high risk of rain last night.

“But. Now. It. Isn’t.” He teases.

You reach the hospital entrance.

“Do you want anything else, or do you just want to make fun of me while I’m on the bus being forced to smell other people’s armpits?”

The automatic doors open and you reach the street.

“That’s not what I want,” San’s voice suddenly goes deeper and more serious.

“So what do you…” You stop.

As soon as you glance toward the side of the bus stop, your feet don’t seem to know how to move, your breath hitches, and you lose your ability to speak.

Because right there, near the hospital’s entrance, is San in a long coat that looks ridiculously good on him, and an umbrella, and he's looking at you in a way that makes you lose your knees weak.

“I told you.” San’s voice is now soft, as he walks slowly towards you. “I want to give you some support on your way home.” He says, still speaking to you through his phone. Once he reaches you, he puts the phone in his pocket. “Hey, kitten.”

And this is it, the moment you feel your defenses crumbling a little (a lot!) more. You bite your lip because you aren’t sure about what to say. His free hand reaches for your face, his thumb caressing your cheek, and you lean into his touch.

“Let’s go, I’ll walk you home.”

You look around and it isn’t raining as much, but still enough to have a hard time without an umbrella. Also, you can definitely walk with San and make it a pleasant stroll.

“That’s why you were always asking me if I was going to catch the bus… you wanted to know which exit I would use.” It’s not a question, you know San was probably plotting this since the moment you told him you didn’t bring an umbrella.

“Guilty!” He answers with a proud smile on his face.

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know, kitten. But I wanted to.”

The way he says those words makes something shift, because you know what he means: he wants you to be comfortable, and not riding on a bus packed with people. He wants you to be safe, not walking around in the rain without an umbrella. He wants to take you, not to be nice, but because that’s who he is. That’s how he behaves with you.

You relax, walking side by side with him, and you feel a bit flustered because this is the most romantic thing you’ve experienced in a long while.

The rain keeps falling in a steady rhythm, like the world is giving you privacy even in the middle of a crazy city. San holds the umbrella just slightly closer to you than necessary, his shoulder brushing yours every now and then. You notice how he adjusts his pace to match yours, how he angles his body so most of the rain hits him instead.

Neither of you says much, but your fingers twitch at your side, aware of how close his hand is, aware of how easy it would be to reach for him.

Suddenly, San stops and pulls you close, turning you around to make you face him.

“Can I get my kiss now?” He asks with a pout, and you stifle a giggle because he looks so adorable. “I didn’t want to ask you when we were close to the hospital but I think we now have enough distance to be safe.”

You feel your lips open into a bright smile, butterflies dancing in your stomach as your heart beats faster.

You lean in and your lips crash into a passionate kiss, like both of you were waiting for this moment. You forget the rain, the people around, and the city noises fade. All that matters is in that arm, protective around your waist, and those lips, soft and warm against yours.

His tongue darts out, meeting yours in a sweet dance as the kiss deepens. You feel a shiver down your spine and you know the moment is getting heated. You press your body closer to San’s and his arm tightens around you.

The romance is interrupted as the drizzle thickens into heavy rain, and San’s umbrella is no longer enough to shield you from it.

“My house is closer than yours. Let’s go there instead,” he suggests quickly.

You don’t even think about fighting him. In fact, you don’t want to fight him. You really just want some place cozy and warm, where you can dry your clothes and get away from the rain. And, yes, you want San’s company, you can’t deny that to yourself anymore.

So you take a run, following him through the streets until he stops near a fancy building you walk by every day on your way home. You always wanted to see these apartments from the inside, they look so luxurious.

“You live here?” You ask, surprised.

He nods, chuckling, pulling you by the hand until you’re both inside the building. The hallway is warmer already. San is soaking wet, his hair plastered to his forehead and his coat dripping onto the floor.

“You look ridiculous,” you tease, a laugh bubbling in your chest.

He’s stunned for a moment. “Yeah, because you look like Princess Perfection right now.” He mocks, an eyebrow shooting up and those dimples in his cheeks making an appearance.

You catch your reflection in a mirror in the hallway and start laughing because you sure look ridiculous too.

As soon as the elevator doors close, San pulls you close, lifting your chin to make you look at him.

“You are my princess...” He murmurs before he kisses you… slowly… deeply… taking your breath away.

His hand finds your ass and gives it a squeeze, as you feel the heat rising between the two. The elevator door opens and San pulls you with him to his door. As soon as you’re inside his apartment, the door shut behind you, he starts undressing you both.

“Wet clothes,” he breathes between kisses. “Warm shower. Together. Now!”

He guides you to the tub, slipping in first and making sure the water is already warm before you step in. Beneath the spray, with nothing between you, San’s skin feels like the warmest thing in the house.

The hot water streams down, plastering your hair to your skin and turning the air around you into mist. San’s hands are everywhere, slick with soap and water, tracing the curves of your waist, the dip of your spine, the swell of your hips. He pulls you flush against him, and you can feel every hard line of his body, the firm muscles of his chest and stomach, the soft heat of his skin.

His erection presses insistently against your belly and you can feel your pussy spasm just at the thought of having him inside you.

“You feel so good,” San’s voice is a low rumble that gives you goosebumps.

He captures your lips in a hungry kiss. One of his hands tangles in your wet hair, tilting your head back to give him better access, while the other slides down your back to cup your ass, pulling you even closer until there’s no space left between you.

You moan into his mouth, your own hands roaming over the broad expanse of his shoulders, digging your nails into the hard muscle of his back. He breaks the kiss, panting, his dark eyes blazing with an intensity that makes your knees weak. He leans his forehead against yours, the water dripping from his hair onto your face.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day,” San confesses, his voice rough with desire. “Ever since you told me you were stuck in the rain.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before he’s lifting you, his strong arms easily wrapping around your thighs as he hoists you up and he pins you up against the tile wall of the shower. You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, your arms circling his neck for support. The new position has his cock sliding against your slick folds, and you both gasp at the friction.

“San,” you breathe, his name a prayer on your lips.

“Hold on to me, kitten,” he growls, his gaze intense but at the same time like he’s about to break, and then he’s pushing into you.

He enters your aching pussy in one slow, deep stroke that steals the air from your lungs. A perfect, stretching fullness. He pauses for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his forehead still pressed against yours as you both breathe heavily. The water cascades over your bodies and for a moment time seems to stop.

Then San starts to move, his thrusts are deep and powerful. The sound of skin slapping against wet skin echoes in the small space, mingling with your gasps and his guttural groans. San watches you, his eyes dark and focused, as if he’s memorizing every expression that crosses your face. He shifts his angle slightly, and the new position has him hitting that perfect spot inside you with every stroke.

“Right there,” you cry out, your head falling back against the tile as pleasure courses through you.

“Yeah? Do you like this?” he grunts, his pace quickening.

He’s pounding into you now, his hips snapping against yours with a force that has you seeing stars. The pressure builds, a tight coil in your stomach winding tighter and tighter with every thrust.

San’s tongue traces your neck, your collarbone, adjusting your position so he can nibble along your skin. That alone is enough to take you closer to the edge. He works his way down until he finds your nipples, taking one into his mouth, licking and sucking with deliberate care.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, pleasure ripping through your entire body. You cry out his name, your inner walls clenching around him as you convulse in his arms. He follows you over the edge a moment later, his body shuddering against yours.

For a long moment, you just stay like that, pinned against the wall, his body a warm, heavy weight that you welcome. The water continues to fall as you both struggle to catch your breath. Finally, he slowly lowers you back to your feet, his arms still wrapped securely around you, holding you up.

San rests his chin on the top of your head, pressing a soft kiss to your wet hair.

“We should get out before we turn into prunes,” he murmurs with a lazy smile on his perfect face.

You just nod, too boneless and blissed out to form a coherent response. San grabs a fluffy towel from the rack, wrapping it around you before grabbing one for himself.

He lends you some of his clothes while yours are drying, and you aren’t sure if he’s being serious or not when he says you look cute. He invites you for dinner, “Since your clothes are still drying”, he says, so you order takeout. It’s quiet and intimate, and you can’t remember the last time you let your guard down like this. But with San it feels right.

After dinner, your clothes are finally dry and ready. You go to his bedroom to change and when you get back to the living room, you find San sitting on the balcony with floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing at the city and the sky through the glass. Nature seems to be mocking you, because now the sky is clear, and the stars are visible in perfect clarity.

“Counting stars?” You ask gently, as you sit next to him. You aren’t ready to go home… not yet.

“Just… looking at the view,” San answers, still looking at the window.

“Yeah,” you agree, glancing at the view as well, trying to figure out what caught his attention so badly makes him seem so focused. “Do you see anything pretty?”

“I do,” his voice is sure and you wait for him to point out.

“Wha…” you start when he doesn’t continue but when you turn your head to face him, San is looking back at you with an intensity that makes you lose your breath.

“You,” he says simply, almost shy, his dimples showing again, a faint blush on his cheeks.

You melt and throw yourself into his arms, kissing him deeply and tenderly.

“You know when I implied you didn’t look like the Princess Perfection earlier?” He asks, pulling you close when you break the kiss.

“Yeah, I do.” You know what he’s going to say. It’s cheesy and even cliche, but you want to hear it from him.

“I was lying… you are perfect… always,” and with that, he kisses you again, and it doesn’t take long until your clothes are all over the floor again, as you make love right there, in his balcony, under the starry sky.

[nyxencrypted]

Silent call: Chapter 3 - Push and Pull

Read previous chapters:

Chapter 1: Here

Chapter 2: Here

Summary:

The professional but charged dynamic between Y/N and Dr. Choi San is on full display. Despite her lingering nervousness and hesitation, she agrees to finally go on a date with him. When he walks her home, the emotional connection shifts into physical passion, symbolizing a pivotal step toward letting down her guard and trusting him with all her heart.

Notes:

This is for entertainment purposes only and my stories happens only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. Ateez are my main source of inspiration, and others may follow in the future, but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

- - - - - -

The last few days San and you had a couple of shifts together and it’s adorable how he tries to behave, but sometimes he can be a little clingy. Today you’re both on the day shift, and later you’ll finally have your first date. San asked you that time he went to your place. It was easy for you to say yes at the time, but you feel nervous every time you think about it… you want to trust him, but you aren’t sure you’re ready to give yourself fully. You trust him, you just don’t trust the shared future yet. And you just hope he understands.

You’re looking at your computer, checking what you need to do, when San appears beside you without warning.

“You forgot your coffee,” his voice sweet and gentle, setting the cup on the counter next to your charts and sitting next to you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You blink at it. Then at your coworkers who are pretending not to see what’s happening. Then at him.

“You didn’t have to, Doctor Choi.” You try to sound cool and collected but you believe you’re failing miserably. By the looks the other nurses are giving you, you’re right.

“I know.” His mouth curves in a knowing smile. “I wanted to.”

His white coat is immaculate, sleeves rolled just enough to expose his forearms. Hair neatly styled, glasses perched on his nose while he scans a patient file. He's acting calm, focused and professional, but you feel butterflies dancing in your stomach.

“Thank you, doctor.” You hold the cup between your hands and feel blessed when that amazing smell fills your nostrils. “I sure need it.”

San nudges gently with his elbow and you feel your cheeks getting hot. You bite your lower lip and try to focus on work again, but his cologne filling up your nostrils isn’t helping.

“It was easier when you pretended you didn't like me, right?” He whispers, and you roll your eyes and scoff, but you know he’s right.

At least then you’d throw some bullshit at him and run, like pretending he didn’t affect you the way he does. Right now you’re sure your coworkers are already making plans to fill you up with questions and unsolicited advice when there’s a chance.

– – – – – – – – – –

During the shift, you move through the ward together easily. Passing instruments. Sharing quick looks. You enjoy working with him. He’s professional and kind to his patients, always worried and caring. He’s smart and has quick thinking, bringing solutions to the table instead of leaving you alone with problems. He listens to the patients, and to you and other nurses. You missed this dynamic between you two at work more than you care to admit. It’s exciting to work with a doctor like Choi San.

At one point, as you adjust an IV, you feel that familiar scent and a presence at your back. The patient is an old woman whose smile brightens up when she sees who’s behind you. San again. Close enough that you feel his breath brush your ear as he leans in.

“You’re doing that thing again,” he whispers.

You frown slightly. “What thing?”

“The one where you don’t realize you’re biting your lip when you’re concentrating.”

Your fingers still. You straighten slowly, turning just enough to meet his eyes.

“You watch me too much, doctor,” you say lightly.

He doesn’t deny it.

Instead, he lowers his voice. “Only you.”

Heat curls low in your stomach. You hate how easily he does this: how he makes you feel seen without ever pushing. How he steps back the second he senses hesitation, even though you both know what’s already happened between you. Twice. Messy and intense.

“You two are adorable,” you hear that voice and suddenly remember you aren’t alone. You turn to your patient to apologize, but she doesn’t give you a chance. “My favorite doctor with my favorite nurse. You should ask her out.” She winks at San.

He makes the most charming smile. You, on the other hand, can’t move or even form coherent thoughts.

“Oh, I think you’re right.” He winks back at the old lady. “Do you think she’ll say yes? She’s a stubborn one.”

What?! Your head snaps in San’s direction.

“I can give a good word to her about you,” the patient says, in a conspiratorial tone.

You turn your head back at her. What?!

San is visibly amused.

“I’ll just pretend you weren’t talking about me like I’m not here and keep moving,” you say, gently tapping on the old lady’s hand. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

You bolt out of there, cursing San and the adorable Mrs. Butler. You still hear him saying something to her, but he’s right beside you the next instant.

“Running again?”

“This time is not exclusively from you. It’s also from Mrs. Butler and you two conspiring against me.”

He looks around and pulls you to another alley. Nobody is in sight. That’s the first thing you check because San has you against the wall again and he’s too close to be strictly professional.

“San!” You warn him.

“I know, I know. I’m letting you go in a sec, kitten”, his voice is pure velvet and you feel your resolve crumbling. “Just want to be sure you didn’t forget about our date tonight.”

“I didn’t.” You manage to slide under his arm and make an escape. “I’ll see you tonight, doctor.”

You give him your biggest smile and a wink before you turn around to go back to the nurses’ station, leaving behind Doctor Choi San with a very silly smile on his face.

– – – – – – – – – –

Later, you’re in front of your mirror checking how you look. Black, short dress, with a thin silver belt and a short blazer to match. You check your makeup and put on your high heel boots just in time to hear your phone ping. You don’t always dress like this, but it’s not every day that you have a date with San.

“I’m outside,” says San’s text message.

You look out the window and see his car. He’s still inside but you feel your heart already beating faster. You take the elevator, feeling a bit restless. Is it too late to pretend I’m sick? You shake your head to your inner monologue. No! You’re not doing this. You’re going on this date and you’ll have fun.

When you reach the ground floor, your heart is threatening to jump off your chest. You take a deep breath and start walking towards the door. Opening it, you see San leaning against his car, and he takes your breath away. He’s neatly dressed (because, of course he is), comfortable but smart, looking cozy but elegant, in clothes that fit him so well it seems they were made just for him.

As soon as he sees you, his eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and he seems to stop breathing as well. Then, the sweetest smile appears on his face and you melt. You don’t even realize you’re frozen in place at your doorstep until one of your neighbours talks to you.

“You look very nice, Y/N,” Mrs. Cooper, the old lady from the third floor, is a sweetheart. She helped you a lot on your last breakup, after seeing you crying on the elevator. She started to invite you to go to her apartment, for tea or a meal, and she shared her amazing stories. She looks at San. “Is he your new boyfriend?”

You finally take your eyes off him. “Hmm...” You hesitate.

Mrs. Cooper pats your hand and gives you a knowing look. “You deserve to be happy, sweetie.”

You smile, glancing at San. “My boyfriend?” you ask no one in particular. Then looking back at the woman you feel your defenses crumbling because you know you can lie even to yourself, but there’s no way you can lie to her. You nod. “Not yet. But maybe…”

The words hang in the air. Mrs. Cooper’s voice is soothing, her eyes showing you she knows what you’re thinking.

“By the way you’re smiling, it looks like he’s found a crack in your armor and he’s slowly creeping in… and you’re letting him. Accept happiness, girl. Don’t keep running from it.” Now you’re both staring at San. “He’s very handsome, Y/N, you have good taste”.

Before saying your goodbyes, she gets more serious.

“Is he good for you? Does he make you feel cherished… safe?”

“Yes, Mrs. Cooper,” you don’t hesitate with that answer, and that is a surprise to you. “Don’t worry, I believe San is one of the good ones.”

She seems satisfied with your answer and she gets into the building.

You finally walk towards San, and he raises an eyebrow, looking both confused and suspicious. You giggle, because how can he look so damn hot and cute at the same time when he does that?

You both say hi, and he opens the passenger door for you.

“Where are we going?” You ask him, feeling nervous again as soon as he starts driving.

“You’ll see…” That’s all he says with a cheeky smile before changing the subject. “What were you two talking about?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You and your neighbour.”

You cover your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from laughing nervously.

“Oh, nothing. She was just making sure I’m okay.”

“Why? Is there something wrong? Are you feeling sick?” The worry in his face is endearing.

“No, silly. It’s more like… if I’m safe… with you…”

“Oh…” He pauses, as realization strikes him. “Oooh! Okay.” He glances quickly at you and back at the road. “And what did you tell her?”

“If I didn’t feel safe, do you really think I’d be here with you right now?”

He smiles, his dimples showing, making you melt. “I guess not, since you’re so stubborn and you were always slipping away before.”

You roll your eyes but you laugh. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Yes… yes, you are.” You don’t know what it is, but something in the way he says those words makes you think he doesn’t quite believe it yet.

– – – – – – – – – –

The restaurant he takes you to is really nice and quiet, and you can talk while you eat. You see him fidgeting with the Menu, so you start noticing every reaction. He’s nervous, too.

Choi San, surgery’s golden boy, is nervous. You think to yourself.

That doesn’t do any good to calm your own nerves, but it makes you a little proud.

With dinner, that feeling starts to wear off, and suddenly you feel like you’ve been on a dozen dates with San. He’s easy to talk to and he makes you laugh. He seems to feel the same. You start with the most trivial stuff, but soon the conversation leads to more deep subjects, intimate even.

After dinner, you walk around town a little, sightseeing. You aren’t sure when that happens, but you end up holding hands, and it’s the most comfortable feeling ever to feel so close to someone again. Then he drives you back home and he walks you to your door, like the perfect gentleman he is.

You’re feeling a bit nervous again, and he seems to notice it.

“What’s up, kitten?” His smile is warm and devastating.

You can’t find the words to say what’s on your mind, because for the first time you want to really open up to someone… you aren’t just sure how to begin. San, as always, seems to read through you, so he continues.

“You don’t have to tell me tonight. But I’ll tell you something. Something… not embarrassing, but mine… and maybe you’ll feel less anxious about what you’re thinking.”

You bite your lip and nod, giving him time. He squeezes both your hands with his, looking at them to avoid your gaze, like he’s gathering courage.

“I was nervous tonight.” That voice… That damn sweet voice of his that seems to ease all your troubles. “I was driving here with my heart on my throat. And then…” he lets out a breathy laugh and shakes his head. “I saw you.”

He lifts your eyes to his. “I think you look beautiful.”

You roll your eyes, and he squeezes one of your hands again, to show you he’s going to say something important. “Stop being like that and let me speak.”

So you do. You look into his eyes and, just like a few days ago at the hospital, you feel like he’s going to pour his soul out to you.

“I think you’re beautiful in your everyday clothes, or in your scrubs. It doesn’t matter if you’re wearing makeup or not, or how you do your hair. Damn, I even liked when you were so late to work one day, that you got there still with your hair all messy and your face a bit puffy like you’d just woken up.”

You scrunch your nose. Why the hell is he bringing up that very awkward moment?

“But seeing you tonight, in that dress, all prepped up, and knowing you did all that because you were on a date with me… Baby, you made my heart beat faster than you usually do.”

That makes you melt, and suddenly you feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“What the hell, San?!” you exclaim. He laughs and hugs you, because he knows he’s just stepped a little closer to that place inside you where no one else ever goes.

Then, keeping him close, you tilt your head toward his, your lips barely brushing as your breaths mingle, before finally colliding. He bites your lower lip gently, asking for permission, and you part your mouth, letting him in. Your tongues meet, dancing together in a slow but heated rhythm.

“Do you have time to come up a little bit?” You ask him, between kisses.

He stops kissing you, pretending to be offended.

“Don’t. Ever…” these words punctuated to make his point, “ask me that like it’s possible for me to say no.” And he kisses you again while you search for your keys.

You go up, refraining from kissing on the elevator for some unknown reason, which only makes your desire grow. As soon as you enter your apartment, San is already pulling you into another needy kiss. He kicks the door closed, his hands framing your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he deepens the kiss, tasting you like he’s been starving for it.

You fight with his clothes, trying to take them off, your hands clumsy with desire. He chuckles against your mouth, before his own hands come up to help you. He peels off his tops effortlessly, tossing them carelessly onto the hardwood floor. You gasp, pulling back to look at the expanse of his chest, lean and toned.

“I love it when you look at me like that” he murmurs. Then his hands are on you, sliding down your back to cup your ass through the thin fabric of your dress. He lifts you effortlessly, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he walks you backwards towards your bedroom.

He lays you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours, propped up on his elbows. He looks down at you, his gaze so intense it feels like a physical touch. He traces the line of your jaw with his thumb, then down your neck, to the collar of your dress. His fingers hook into the silver belt.

“I’ve been thinking about this dress all night,” he admits, his voice husky. “Thinking about taking it off of you.”

He helps you undress, his knuckles brushing against your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He peels the fabric away, exposing you inch by inch. He doesn’t rush. He worships. His lips follow the path of his hands, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to your shoulders, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts.

You arch into him, your hands tangling in his hair as he takes one peak into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nipple before he gently bites down. A sharp cry escapes your lips, both from pleasure and pain, and he smiles against your skin. He gives the other the same attention, his free hand roaming down your stomach, hooking into the waistband of your panties.

He slides them down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. The look in them is possessive but also full of adoration. It makes your body burn in the best way. He settles between your thighs, his breath warm against your core. The anticipation is sweet, but you can’t wait much longer, your pussy tingling and aching for him.

“San, please,” you whimper.

He doesn’t make you wait. He lowers his head, his tongue delving into your slick folds with a practiced, confident stroke, making you moan loudly with pleasure and relief. He licks and sucks, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you open for him. He knows exactly how to touch you, how to build that tension until you’re a writhing, pleading mess beneath him. He slides one finger inside you, then another, curling them just right to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

“You’re so beautiful like this, kitten.” He says, lifting his head to look at you. “So beautiful when you let yourself feel.”

He dives in again, claiming you with his tongue, exploring every inch of your pussy. It’s like you’ve been doing this all of your lives, like he knows what your body craves more than you do.

“San, if you don’t stop…” your voice is merely a whisper.

“Cum on my face, baby.” He asks you. “I want to taste you.”

You cry out his name, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure pulse through you. He keeps his mouth on you, drawing out your climax until you’re limp and breathless. When he finally stops and looks at you, you can only hum with satisfaction.

He moves back up your body, kissing your sensitive skin on his way up, until he captures your lips in a deep kiss. He undresses his trousers and boxers while kissing, but you have time to see his cock springing free and already leaking precum. He positions himself at your slick entrance, his gaze locking with yours.

“Look at me, kitten” he commands softly.

Your eyes meet his as he pushes into you, slow and steady. He fills you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, making you whimper. He stills for a moment, letting you adjust, giving you time to get used to the fullness.

“Oh fuck,” San lets out. “You’re so perfect for me.”

Then he begins to move. His thrusts are deep and measured at first, a slow, intoxicating rhythm that builds the pleasure all over again. He’s watching you intently, as if he’s memorizing every expression on your face.

“Wait,” you ask.

San’s eyes widen in surprise, a choked gasp escaping his lips as you move. He understands what you want and helps you flip positions. His cock, still buried deep inside you, pulses at the sudden shift, and the new angle makes you both groan. You’re on top now, straddling him, his hands automatically flying to your hips to steady you.

For a moment, you just look down at him. His hair is a mess against your pillow, his lips are parted, his bare chest rising and falling with each breath, and he looks so fucking sexy. To you, this is a new surrender of your part, but on your terms. You still need to have some control. And you know he knows it.

“Ride me, baby,” he breathes.

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart under your palms. It matches the rhythm of your own heart, crazy thumping against your ribs. You start to move, a slow roll of your hips. The drag of him inside you is exquisite, and you throw your head back, a soft sigh escaping your lips. You grind down, watching his face as he loses himself in the sensation.

“Fuck… kitten,” he groans, his grip on your hips tightening. “You are… incredible.”

You smile, feeling all your body humming with the praise, but also with the sensation of having him inside you. You lean forward, bracing your hands on the bed on either side of his head, and begin to ride him in earnest. You lift yourself up, almost letting him slip out, before slamming back down, taking him to the hilt. The new position allows him to hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, and pleasure coils tight and hot in your stomach.

You’re in control of the depth, the speed, the angle. His eyes are locked on you, dark and worshipful, as he watches you take what you need from him. He’s completely at your mercy, and the look on his face tells you he wouldn’t have it any other way.

San’s breath comes undone beneath you, every sound he makes filled with pleasure, and it’s enough to make you lose yourself. Your name leaves his lips like a confession, and the way his hands tighten on your hips tells you exactly how much he wants you.

“Look at you…” San murmurs, awe threaded through every syllable. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You lean down, foreheads touching, noses brushing, your rhythm slowing just enough to savor the way he reacts to you, how his body responds, how his control frays when you’re the one guiding him.

“You’re so good to me,” you mutter, and it’s like you’re freeing yourself from something that was tightening your chest. “You’re so perfect for me, San.”

The urgency is tamed. This is about trust. About you showing him you’re choosing to stay.

Something in your chest cracks open, making way for the flood of emotion you’ve been damming up. You feel weightless, finally able to breathe, trusting him to catch you.

San feels a shift, and his hands slide up your back, grounding and reverent. He kisses you deeply, like he’s trying to say everything he’s been holding in since the first moment he fell because he didn’t want to push too hard. As you feel his cock throbbing inside you, you know he’s close.

“Cum with me, kitten,” he whispers to you.

The bed creaks in protest, the sound mingling with your moans and his ragged breaths. He’s everywhere, his scent, his weight, his voice whispering filthy praise in your ear.

“You feel so good, baby. So fucking tight for me.”

The sound of San’s voice pushes you into oblivion, and he falls with you, both of you calling out as the pleasure takes hold.

When you finally collapse against him, your body trembling, hearts racing in sync, he wraps you up effortlessly, arms strong and protective around you. His lips brush your temple, your hair, your cheek… soft… careful… caring… because he knows how to be like this for you, and you love that about him.

So you kiss his forehead, his nose, his lips, a series of soft, gentle kisses that speak volumes. You’re not running anymore, even if you’re still scared. You’re not hiding from him, even if that’s your first instinct. When you look at San, his gaze shows you what you already know: he’s already chosen you and is just waiting for you to believe it’s safe.

And for the first time in a long while, it feels like it might be.

[nyxencrypted]

Silent Call: Chapter 2 - Code Blue

Read Chapter 1 here

Summary:

The first chapter, Code Red, represented the loss of control. San’s feelings were at a boiling point, and he acted on them, pushing Y/N into a situation where she lost control as well. It was like fire: an immediate, passionate crisis.

In this chapter, Code Blue, nothing explodes the way it did before. Instead, everything goes terrifyingly quiet. San exposes his heart, even though Y/N keeps hers guarded. That makes her rethink about the way she sees him and herself, and something shifts. This isn’t about impulse. It’s about vulnerability, trust and deciding whether to bring something back to life, knowing it may hurt again.

Notes:

This is for entertainment purposes only and my stories happens only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. Ateez are my main source of inspiration, and others may follow in the future, but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

— — — — —

The next few shifts are a special kind of hell, the kind where you seem to hear San’s voice everywhere and every chart you pick up has his handwriting on it. You successfully avoided being alone with him for a full seventy-two hours, which involved taking the long way anywhere you’d go and developing a sudden, intense interest in the vending machine in the west wing instead of the one closest to your unit.

It’s not like you don’t want to see him. When you didn’t answer his calls, he texted you saying he wanted to talk, and you don’t know if you’re ready for whatever he needs to say to you. The few times you saw him, both of you were surrounded by coworkers, so he didn’t say anything too specific but you could feel his gaze, the way it lingered on you more than it should even when you looked away. From time to time, you could feel his hand on your arm, his fingers grazing the small of your back, all very subtle. It was both endearing and annoying because it made your breath hitch and your thoughts go fuzzy. Every other nurse in your unit told you they would be melting if he looked at them the way he looks at you. And you did melt, you just learned how to hide it from most people.

Right now, San is leaning at the top of the counter on the nurses station, bending over to get closer to you. The smell of his cologne filling up your nostrils brings back memories from the other night, and that makes you feel both horny and annoyed.

“Avoiding me much?” He asks with the sweetest smile and the kindest eyes, like he knows the turmoil that you feel inside you but he can’t help himself from talking to you.

“No, I’m just, you know… working,” you replied, trying to sound composed, but the blush on your face tells another story.

The way he “hums” in response shows that he doesn’t believe you. You don’t even look at him, facepalming his face and pushing him back, further away from you. He laughs and walks away, and you pretend to be very focused on the shape of your pen and how it feels on your fingers to avoid the amused looks other nurses are giving you.

— — — — — — — — — —

After lunch you make your way to the coffee vending machine, the one further away from your unit. It’s quiet there, not that many people around, and you need the quiet more than you need the coffee. So you breathe. San is messing with your head more than you’d like to admit. Even after that other night, he has a way of looking at you with the softest eyes and the sweetest smile, showing those adorable, stupid dimples, like you didn’t do very dirty things in his office while you were supposed to be working.

You’re lost in your thoughts when you feel someone coming too close. You don’t need to turn around to know who’s behind you.

"Staring at the machine won't make it dispense coffee any faster," he says, his voice showing he’s even closer than you thought.

"I was just… contemplating the options,” you reply, keeping your eyes glued to the coffee machine.

"Deep thoughts." He leans against the machine beside you, crossing his arms. The fabric of his scrubs pulls taut across his chest, a sight you were definitely not thinking about (you were). "I was also contemplating. About options. About coffee. Not from a hospital machine. From a place with actual mugs. Or dinner."

You finally turn to him, forcing a neutral expression. "I'm on a diet. And I’m really picky."

San’s lips twitch in a ghost of a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s watching you, his gaze intense and knowing, like he can see right through your bullshit.

"Right." He pushes off the machine, taking a step closer until you have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. "And this awkward dance you're doing around the hospital? Is that also you being picky?"

You poke him in the chest, right over his sternum. "I'm not dancing. I'm working. Something you should try."

You know you’re being unfair. If there’s anyone who works hard, it’s Doctor Choi San. But you had to say something, and apparently that man now has the power to steal every smart comeback right off your tongue. His hand shoots out and catches your wrist, his fingers warm and firm. San isn’t hurting you, just holding you like he’s afraid you’ll escape any minute (which is probably true), his thumb brushing over your pulse point. You know San can feel it beating frantically against his skin.

“I am working," he murmurs, his voice dropping to that darker register that makes your stomach clench… the one you only heard that night when you caved in. "I'm working on getting you to talk to me without looking like you're about to bolt."

You tug your hand back, and he lets you go instantly. "I don't know what you're talking about." Every word is a lie and it doesn’t convince you, let alone San.

"Of course you don't." His smile finally breaks through, soft and a little bit devastating. Damn it! "I thought I got you, you know, that I understood what’s on your head, but apparently I don’t."

“I don’t know what to say in answer to that.” You can’t even look him in the eyes while you speak right now and you feel like a complete fool.

“You seemed to enjoy it.” His hand comes up to cradle your face, and you feel the urge to lean into his touch. “Why are you running again?”

You don’t feel judged, but you feel like he’s stripping every layer of your soul. You stay silent looking at him for a few moments. This man in front of you acts all confident and even a little cocky sometimes, but he can never hide his softness for too long. It’s there, even in the smallest acts. And that’s the version of San that scares you the most, because it’s the side of him that would make you fall harder and faster.

"People change their minds," you finally shoot back, your voice losing its edge.

"Did you?" he asks, his gaze unwavering. "Change your mind?"

The question hung in the air between you, heavy and charged. You want to say yes. You want to lie and tell him it was a mistake, a lapse in judgment. You like the simplicity of your life right now and having a relationship isn’t in your plans, especially not with someone from work. And especially with the Doctor Choi San, so fucking popular. You aren’t even sure he’s searching for a relationship or just to have some fun, but you know you’re at risk of falling in love and getting hurt. You can’t have that.

But looking into his eyes, you can’t make yourself lie. Feeling the warmth of his hand against your face, his thumb caressing your cheek, you just can’t. San seems to have everything you always wanted in a man, and that night you were together was proof that you’re just trying to lie to yourself when you say he doesn’t affect you.

Turning away to fiddle with the empty pocket of your scrubs, you try to escape without giving him a direct answer.

“I have to go. Mr. Smith in 402 needs his vitals checked."

"He can wait five minutes," San says softly, his tone shifting. It isn’t a command, just a gentle fact. "I'm not asking you to marry me, Y/N. Just coffee or dinner. Public place. Lots of witnesses.” He crooks an eyebrow, half amused. “Are you scared I’ll jump on you or something? Was I too forward the other night?" Even though he’s kind of mocking, you think you can hear some vulnerability in his voice.

Despite yourself, a small, reluctant laugh escapes you. "You are infuriating."

"And you are stubborn." He takes a small step back, giving you space. “I usually don’t corner people, you know, and besides if I knew you were uncomfortable I would have stopped. It’s just…” San makes a pause to breathe deeply. His eyes are burning into your soul, but not in a lustful way: it’s more like he’s frustrated, and he’s ready to pour a little of his soul at your feet just for you to understand him. “I like you, okay? And I’m so fucking stupid that every time you push me away, I only want you even more. But it’s not about the chase. Maybe in the beginning it was, but then I got to know you better, even when you tried to stay away. And it’s really you. You’re funny, smart, kind, the right amount of sassy. It’s the way you treat other people. The way you used to treat me until a few months ago something changed and you started rolling your eyes at everything I say to you. So I, yeah, thought you were just playing hard to get, because you wanted me as much as I want you. What happened the other night was the result of months of pent up emotions and self-control. I snapped because I wanted you to snap as well and finally admit that you like me too.”

You see his body tensing, and then relaxing. You remain silent, thoughts rushing through your head. Apparently he’s serious about you and you don’t know what to do with that information, and the few people around you are pretending not to pay attention but you’re sure they’re listening to everything.

The silence seems too heavy for San to handle. He finally breaks eye contact, lets out a long breath, shakes his head like he’s gathering his thoughts, and walks away down the hall like he hadn't just completely dismantled your defenses. You stand there for a long moment, staring at the spot where he'd been, your heart thumping against your ribs.

— — — — — — — — —

When you finally get home after work, you let yourself fall on your couch. After your encounter with San, you’ve been thinking about doing something and you don’t know if it’s the smartest or the dumbest decision of your life. The thing is, you’ve been hurt badly before. Your last relationship was a mess and that’s why you had trust issues. Besides, your ex was a coworker at the time, and it was hard for you to deal with him pretty much every day after the breakup. You aren’t a control freak for no reason: the moment you gave yourself to someone that you fully trusted, the moment you thought you had found “the one”, you ended up with your heart shredded into tiny pieces and you had to fight hard to get up to your feet and start feeling like yourself again.

San seems to be nothing like your ex, though. He’s playful and sweet, and even though you know he’s been trying to reach you, he never pushed anything until that first night.

You sigh, like you’re telling yourself to accept defeat on this, and pick up your phone texting San your location.

“I’m home. Can you meet me here tonight?”

His text comes shortly after you send yours.

“Are you sure?”

“Don’t make me overthink this more than I already did.” You type, and you hop into the tub for a quick shower.

— — — — — — — — — —

San doesn’t take long to arrive. He knocks on the door and when you open it, you stand there looking at each other for a few seconds. It still feels weird but you also don’t want him to leave. He’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, and you’re not used to seeing him dressed like that. For some reason, that makes butterflies dance in your stomach because he’s even more irresistible. It’s like you’re seeing another side of him, different from the doctor Choi you usually see everyday at work.

“Hey, kitten,” San breaks the silence first (like always, you realize) with that sweet smile that makes your heart race (and there! Those stupid dimples that drive you insane). “I’m sorry for earlier. I just…”

You don’t let him finish, pulling him inside, closing the door, as push him against it. His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but he doesn't fight back.

“I know I can be complicated, and I can tell you everything… later. And I really believe you can be infuriating. But I also know I’ve only been fooling myself.” You see him holding his breath as you speak, like he wasn’t expecting this even though you’re not telling him anything new to him because he seems to read you so well. “I want you, San… I want you so fucking much.”

He’s about to say something, but you stop him, kissing him with everything you got. You press your body against his, your arms cupping his face to pull him towards you. His hands find your waist, possessive, sending a jolt of electricity through you. He opens his mouth immediately, kissing you back with equal fervor, tongues meeting in a rhythm that feels instinctive.

When you break the kiss, you’re both panting, cheeks flushed. San is no longer smiling; his lips are slightly parted, his gaze a bit darker. You move your hands to feel the pulse on his neck as he holds your wrist, and you both laugh breathlessly because your heartbeats are skyrocketing.

San’s hands start roaming your body, testing, teasing. He trails open mouth kisses on your neck first, going lower and biting its junction with your shoulder gently.

When makes a motion to undress your shirt, you stop him, holding his hands gently. He looks at you with worry in his eyes, like he’s scared he did something you didn’t like, a little pout on his lips. You give his hands a soft squeeze, reassuringly.

“Let me take care of you first, doctor,” you say, teasingly, while your hands travel down his body until they reach the hem of his sweatpants.

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. You can feel he’s not quite believing what’s happening when you shove down his pants. You trace the line of his cock through the boxers, feeling it already getting hard underneath your fingertips. San’s eyes are pleading but he doesn’t force you, he doesn’t rush you. He admires you. You take off his hoodie and his tank top, and your breath stutters, marvelling at his perfectly sculpted body. You know he loves the gym, and he would have a nice body for sure, but you weren’t quite ready for the greek-god-like vision in front of you the first time you were together, nor were you ready now that you can take your time appreciating him.

“I didn’t say this the other night… but damn!” You say, making him let out a shy laugh.

Then you peck his lips, his perfect jawline, his neck and along his collarbone. Your tongue finds the muscles of his chest and you feel the subtle flex of his body as your wet tongue makes contact with the warm and soft skin of his pecks. You follow by tracing the valley between his abs with the very tip of your tongue, feeling each defined ridge like a line carved from stone. When you swirl around his navel, his stomach clenches, a sharp intake of air hissing through his teeth as San surrenders to the sensation. Your own body was aching to be touched by him, heat pooling at your core.

Getting on your knees, you pull his boxers down, and he only moves to kick the clothes away. You look up at him, wanting to follow every reaction. You hold his hard length in your hand, feeling its warmth, its weight, the skin texture. You pump it once, slowly and deliberately, always locking eyes with San. The way his eyes flutter close for a few seconds, his muscles tensing, the soft whimper he lets out, gives you courage to do what you want to do to him as your desire flares hotter. Your tongue traces his cock from the base to the tip in one slow lick.

“Y/N,” he whispers, his fingers finding your hair, but only to ground him, not to rush you. You meet his gaze, and there’s something in his eyes that leaves you breathless: trust, surrender, need.

Without a word, you take him into your mouth, starting slowly, just taking in the tip, swirling your tongue around the head to taste the salty bead of precum that gathers there. San’s breath hitches, his fingers tightening in your hair, and this time it’s a silent plea for more. You feel he's letting you guide him, he wants you to see him undone.

You sink down, taking him deeper, setting a languid, deliberate rhythm. This isn't about rushing; it's about worship. You want to memorize the weight of him on your tongue, the way his hips twitch with the instinct to thrust forward, the way he holds himself back for you. You hollow your cheeks, sucking gently as you pull back, and the groan that rumbles from his chest is your reward.

You pick up the pace, one hand wrapping around the base of his cock to stroke what you can't fit into your mouth. Your other hand rests on his hip, feeling the tense muscles beneath his soft skin. His head is falls back against the door, his eyes squeezed shut, his lips parted as he pants your name like a prayer. He looks completely wrecked, you’re the one who’s doing that to him. That realization makes your pussy clench as your arousal grows.

"Y/N… fuck, your mouth," San grits out, his voice strained. "So good. You're so fucking good."

His praise fuels your desire, not only with pride but because he's surrendering to you. You take him even deeper, until his dick hits the back of your throat and you have to fight back your gag reflex. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you don't stop. You want all of him. You want to be the reason he completely loses control, like he made you lose control the other night.

And then he does. His control snaps. His hips buck forward, a shallow, involuntary thrust, as you feel his cock throbbing in you mouth.

"Gonna cum," San warns, his voice breaking. "Y/N, I'm gonna…"

You don't pull away. Instead, you moan around him, the vibration sending a shockwave through his body. You double your efforts, your hand pumping in time with the movements of your mouth, sucking harder and faster, chasing his release. You feel your pussy tingling, your panties soaking wet with your arousal, but you focus on him.

With a loud, guttural cry, his whole body goes rigid. San spills into your mouth, hot and thick, his hand fisting in your hair as he rides out his orgasm. You stay with him, swallowing everything he gives you, milking him gently until his body shudders with oversensitivity and he slumps back against the door, trembling, completely disheveled and spent.

You slowly pull off, licking your lips clean. You look up at him, and San is staring down at you with a dazed, awestruck expression. Beyond the lust, the need, the teasing… you see him. He trusts you, and he’s giving himself over to you.

His chest is heaving, his cheeks flushed, his eyes darker than ever before, and that makes your own body ache with need.

As it always seems to happen, he knows what you’re thinking and feeling. San gently pulls you to your feet, his hands framing your face. He doesn't say anything at first, just kisses you, a deep, slow, claiming kiss that tastes of him and of your shared surrender. When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.

"Come, kitten," he whispers, as he scoops you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you. "Show me the bedroom, I'm taking care of you now.

[nyxencrypted]

Silent Call - Chapter One - Code Red

Summary:

Choi San is a kind and charming doctor who makes every heart flutter... except one (apparently). Y/N is stubborn nurse who has strict rules about not dating anyone from work,and also suspects San is too perfect... and nobody is that perfect.

However, San affects her more than she'd like to admit. So she lies to herself and others, pushing him away.

But if San is a hopeless romantic, he can also be dangerous when it comes to his feelings.

Notes:

This is for entertainment purposes only and my stories happens only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. Ateez are my main source of inspiration, and others may follow in the future, but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

The title 'Code Red' is a play on medical emergencies. In this chapter, it signifies the point of no return. For San, the tension and attraction he feels for Y/N has become a critical condition. His control, his charm, his teasing… it all burns away to reveal the raw fire underneath. San’s predatory need to claim her, becomes an emergency she can no longer ignore.

— — — — —

You’re sitting at the nurses station with your colleagues on a weirdly calm night shift. You’re typing your annotations when you see San coming in. His hair is impeccable, his skin is perfect, and he doesn’t really look like someone who was performing a surgery for the last three hours. The smell of his cologne fills your nose as he approaches you, with a sweet smile, eyes wrinkling on the corners.

What the hell does he want?

“Good evening, ladies. How is Mr. Gomez?”

Your colleagues seem to be hypnotized by him… as always. You clear your throat.

“He’s recovering well. His vitals are stable and I just gave him some pain meds around 30 minutes ago, he’s resting comfortably,” you answer, trying to shake the knot that forms in your stomach whenever you need to talk to San.

“Okay, good,” he seems pleased. “I’m going to check on him. You can keep doing what you’re doing,” and he strolls towards Mr. Gomez’ room.

“I wasn’t planning to do otherwise anyway,” you mutter to yourself in a cranky voice, but the other nurses hear you.

“Why are you being like that?” One of them asks. “You know he meant well.”

You sigh. “I know, I know,” you roll your eyes. “I just don’t know why he has to come here at 1 a.m. to see a patient, when that patient is fine… Mr. Gomez has been fine since his surgery three days ago. He’s pretty much ready to be sent home.”

Your coworkers keep blabbing about how Doctor San is always so nice and charming, smells so good and he’s always kind. Also, everyone already saw him with tank tops when he leaves from work straight to the gym, hot enough to make people make jokes about needing CPR and almost meaning it. You roll your eyes again, not because it isn’t true, but because it is: he’s too perfect. And maybe you’re a little scared of that.

San comes back and you purposely avoid eye contact with him. He stops right in front of you and stares. After a long while, you grunt.

“Do you need anything else, Doctor?” You keep your eyes on the paper in front of you, your pen ready, but you don’t move.

“Aren’t you going to look at me?” He asks with the sweetest voice, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline like he’s trying to figure out what’s wrong with you.

You sigh. One of the other nurses kicks you under the counter. You glare at her, a little offended. Only after that you look at San.

“I’m sorry, doctor. Do you need anything else?” You repeat, this time with fake courtesy.

San gives you a side smile, like he knows what you really think about him… like he thinks you’re just playing hard to get. That makes you feel a little angry.

“Yes, I do,” he answers politely, trying to maintain a professional tone. “I need you to come have a coffee with me.” When you’re ready to refuse, he adds. “You’ll need to excuse me, but I think you really need one.”

“Do I?” You regret making that question the moment those words come out of your mouth.

“Yes,” he keeps going. A mischievous grin on his face is followed by a teasing tone. “You look terrible. This is what… your third or fourth night shift in a row?”

You slam your hands on the counter as you stand up, looking right into his eyes.

“It’s my second! And I’m sorry if not everyone looks as perfect as you all the time. Some of us are real humans and we have dark circles under our eyes, and I didn’t have time to put on some makeup.”

His smile widens, proud of himself because he made you react like that.

“So you think I’m perfect, uh?”

You let out a sigh in defeat. Your coworkers are trying hard not to laugh and you think it’s better to end this torture.

“Okay, let’s have coffee… at least I won’t have to deal with these two.”

San winks at them and they practically melt, and you make a gagging sound like you’re going to puke. While you’re walking together, his cologne fills your senses again, and you try to convince yourself you hate it… but you don’t. He smells amazing. It makes your head spin in the best way, and you wish you could press your nose against the soft and sensitive skin of his neck, just to let yourself be intoxicated by it.

Already at the coffee vending machine, you start chatting about work to avoid acknowledging your own thoughts. That part of the hospital is quiet at that time of the night, the hallways empty except for some passerby now and then.

You’re fumbling with the crinkly wrapper of the sugar packet, the sound unnaturally loud in the quiet hallway. Determined to keep this professional, you talk about charting and patient recovery times, or anything that distracts you from the way his presence seems to suck all the oxygen out of your lungs.

"So," your voice is a little too bright, but the tone is forced. "Mr. Gomez's incision site looks great. It will heal fast. And he’s doing great with Physical Therapy."

San leans his shoulder against the wall, taking a slow sip from his styrofoam cup. He doesn't even look at you as he answers, his gaze fixed on some point down the empty corridor.

“He's a resilient man and follows doctor’s orders with precision. That’s a great starting point for quick recovery."

“Yeah, he’s strong willed,” you say almost absentmindedly.

San goes on. “He’s a nice man. Always has a smile on his face.” He finally turns his head, and his eyes catch yours, a glint of amusement in their depths. "Unlike some people who seem to be running on fumes and spite."

You bristle, the sugary packet crumpling in your fist. "I'm not spiteful. I'm tired. There's a difference."

"Is that so?" He pushes off the wall, closing the small distance between you. He doesn't touch you, but your body burns like he did. "Because it seems to me you have a very specific reaction to me. One that involves a lot of eye-rolling and muttering under your breath. And not only tonight, it’s every single time you see me."

"I have a specific reaction to arrogance," you shoot back, your heart starting to drum against your ribcage. You try to turn away, to signal that this conversation is over. "I should get back to the station. My break is almost over."

You've barely taken a step when San’s hand shoots out, planting firmly on the wall right next to your head, blocking your path. You freeze, your back suddenly pressed against the cold, sterile surface of the wall. He cages you in, his body close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him.

"I know you like me," he says, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial murmur that sends a shiver straight down your spine. It's not a question. It's a statement of fact, delivered with the quiet confidence of a man who has never been wrong about these things.

You scoff, trying to show some indignation. “You’re really full of yourself.”

You try to push past him, but he doesn’t budge.

“Every time you talk to me you get all flustered. Your cheeks get this adorable pink color when you look me in the eye for more than two seconds. I see the difference between the way you behave with other doctors and me. You’re super nice and kind to everyone, but with me you have this sharp tongue, and I think it’s because you want to ignore how much I affect you.” He leans in, closing the distance between you and making your chest tighten. “You look like a cornered kitten that’s all hiss and no bite. It’s cute!”

“I’m not a kitten!” You’re a little angry, but also a little aroused… damn it!

“You haven’t pushed me away… not really,” he continues like he didn’t hear what you said. “You could’ve at least tried.” San brings one of his hands up, his fingers ghosting your jawline and making you shiver. “You just stand there and let me corner you. Why is that?”

"I…” you want to deny it, but the words die in your tongue. He's so close you can’t think straight, the scent of his cologne is overwhelming now.

A slow, wicked smile spreads across his face as he raises an eyebrow… sexy as fuck. Also his dimples make him extremely cute at the same time and you feel that like the worst personal attack ever, because how dare he?!

San leans in even closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks. "You can keep pretending you don’t like me. But I’m a good observer, kitten, and your body language is telling a different story.”

He shifts his hips, pressing his thigh gently, deliberately, between yours. The pressure is light but possessive. It's a slow, deliberate grind against your core, demanding a reaction from you.

“You think you have to control everything that happens in your life to the smallest detail, but let me tell you something: you can’t.” His hand travels from your face to your breast, his thumb grazing your hardened nipple as he continues. “You didn’t plan this, you think you have to avoid this because we work together and it must go against some type of rule you set for yourself. But I know you want me, Y/N. Stop. Running."

The rough fabric of his scrubs against your thin uniform pants creates a friction between your legs that makes you gasp, your hands flying up to clutch at his amazing biceps for support. You can feel the hard, solid muscle beneath the cotton, and your head spins. He's not teasing you anymore: he's claiming you.

“Tell me to stop,” San whispers, grinding against you again.

You know you should. You should say something to put him back in his place. But all that comes out of your mouth when you open it is a shaky breath. His proximity, his scent, the heat radiating from his skin, the certainty in his voice… it’s all a potent cocktail that dismantles your defenses one by one. You can see by his face he’s enjoying this. And, fuck, you’re enjoying this, too.

“San, I…” Your voice is barely audible. All you can hear is the drum of your heart in your ears.

Without a word he drags you through the hallway, with such urgency it shows he’s afraid of losing the moment. He finds an empty office, pulling you inside and closing the door behind you, pushing you against the wall and caging you again. His breath is ragged, like he’s trying to control some inner fire that’s about to burst.

“Tell me to stop, kitten,” San repeats, his tone more urgent, his voice husky.

You look at him for a few seconds that seem to be an eternity. You see the desire in his eyes, how they seem to burn your skin and see right into your soul. Heat pools at your core, your pussy clenching as you remember the line of his cock hard against you.

“Fuck it!” You exclaim, and you throw yourself at him, placing your arms around his neck and closing the remaining distance.

At the same time, his hands find your waist, holding you with a possessiveness that makes your head spin and your desire grow. That first kiss is lasting, deep, fiery, like both of you are finally unleashing the tension that was simmering. After that, there’s a mess of arms and legs, uniforms hitting the floor. Between angry kisses his laugh comes out breathless and triumphant, until you’re completely naked.

San makes you sit at the top of the desk nearby, guiding his hand slowly and tortuously down to your thigh, making you whimper when it traces an even slower line from there to your awaiting slit. He never takes his eyes from yours, with a smug on his face.

“So wet already, kitten, look at you,” he whispers in a dangerous voice, while his finger glides your slick folds. His touch is slow and deliberate, not giving you exactly what you want but keeping you right where he wants.

“Fuck you!” You retort, even if your enjoying this sweet torture.

He scoffs, always with a cocky smile on his perfect face, his eyebrow raised in a sexy smug, because he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Then he presses one finger inside your dripping pussy.

“So tight,” he breathes, pumping in a delicious rhythm, like he knows what your body needs better than you do. “So perfect,” and he adds a second finger.

You tilt your head back, rolling your eyes and groaning. You rock your hips to match his rhythm, chasing the climax you need so much. His hot breath fans your neck as you start to fall apart on his fingers.

“That’s it, kitten… take from me whatever you need.”

You feel no more shame or whatsoever. You only feel him, his fingers on your needy cunt, his other hand cradling the back of your head. His mouth finds your neck, nibbling the sensitive skin.

You're already so wet your juices are coating your inner thighs. He leaves you empty for a moment, his thumb and forefinger finding your swollen clit, adding extra pleasure when he pinches it, making you moan his name.

“Stop being such a control freak, Y/N.” It’s an order, even if his voice is velvety smooth. “Let go for me… Let yourself feel it…”

As soon as he says these words and slides two fingers into you again, resuming his perfect rhythm, you feel your release hitting every nerve of your body. You dig your teeth on his shoulder to stop you from screaming, and you’re sure you hear him curse, but he doesn’t pull away.

You don’t even have time to come down from your high before he takes out his fingers from inside of you, lining his rigid length perfectly with your sensitive pussy,

“Fuuuuck,” he screams as he buries himself to the hilt with one smooth thrust that makes you see stars.

He leans his head until your foreheads touch, letting you adjust to his size. You’re both panting, your bodies burning, your legs around him pulling him impossibly close, and he seems to be unable to form a coherent thought, just like you.

“Y/N…” he finally says after a few seconds. “You feel even more amazing than I could ever imagine.”

And with that he starts moving his hips in a sensual dance that feels like you have poison spreading slowly over your body. You’re still sensitive from your orgasm and San takes that to his advantage.

You clinch on to him, your nails digging on the muscles of his back. With your legs wrapped around his waist, you move your hips to match his movements. His big, rock hard cock is like sin wrapped in soft skin, reaching every inch of your drenched core.

His thrusts become erratic as he approaches his peak, and you can feel everything. That makes your release build up rapidly again. Your pussy spasms around his length as you let out a choked sob. A mind-numbing pleasure hits both of you like thunder as you climax together, moaning and babbling incoherently. You feel San’s hot seed filling you up, warm and slick.

San peppers soft kisses on your face, his hips moving slower each time. He’s grounding you after two intense orgasms.

“I’m here, kitten,” he whispers between kisses. “You did so good.”

He knows it’s not easy for you to let go like this, especially at work. But he finally found a crack on your armor, and he’s not going to let it close again.

You sit still on the table because your legs feel like jelly, and San kisses your lips tenderly. Grabbing some tissues from the desk (he’s desk, you finally realize… thank God!) he cleans you up with such gentleness you feel your heart melting. You take that time to watch him. His chiseled face that can go from sweet and kind to dangerous and predatory in a matter of seconds (now you know that). The way his perfect muscles relax and contract with each move he makes. The way sweat makes his beautiful skin glister like he’s not from this world. You keep watching him as he cleans up himself aftwards. He smiles, stealing shy glances at you like he wants to know what you’re thinking but is afraid to ask. Those stupid dimples will be the death of you.

You dress up, and when you’re ready you stand there feeling a little awkward. Yeah, this was one of the reasons you didn’t want to fool around with someone from work.

“So… I guess I should go back… my colleagues will start wondering where I went,” you say, your voice shaking.

San chuckles. “I think your colleagues know exactly what type of coffee you were having.”

“Damn it…” You mutter under your breath, because of course they do.

“Chill, kitten…” He holds up his hand to reach you, with that stupid sweet smile that you hate to love, his eyes wrinkling in the corners.

His fingers send sparks down your spine, something new to add to all the reactions you already have when you’re close to him. Fuck!

“I… I need to go. Thanks for the… coffee,” you say, speaking too fast, feeling too weird. As you reach the door you glance at him. He didn’t move, and he’s looking at you with that handsome face, a soft smile on his lips, his eyes shining with something new too.

You smile, and it's genuine. “See you later, San.” That makes him bite his lip. “And don’t call me kitten,” you warn as you walk out the door.

San laughs, and for a long moment he just stands at his office that now smells like a perfect mix of both of you. He doesn’t chase afterwards, nor seeks to see you the rest of your shift. He wants to give you time to process what happened, what you feel. But in his heart he knows he needs more.

[nyxencrypted]

Ashes and Devotion - Chapter 2

Read Chapter 1 here

Summary:

After the worst days of your life, Yunho takes care of you. An unpleasant experience makes him want to worship you, showing you how much you mean to him, and then claim you.

Notes:

This is for entertainment purposes only and my stories happens only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. Ateez are my main source of inspiration, and others may follow in the future, but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

— — — —

The next few days feel almost apologetic. The things you’ve lived still cling to the corners of your mind and your body tenses every time there’s a loud sound or someone makes a sudden move. It’s getting better, but even if you never said anything about it, Yunho noticed.

He stays with you pretty much all of the time, taking care of your wounds and sores, making you feel cherished and loved. It’s like he’s making up for what those people did to you, even though you told him a million times you don’t blame him.

He sends his men away as quickly as he can, so it can be just the two of you. It’s peaceful this way. The worst thing that you’re struggling with are the nightmares that insist on making you relive those awful 72 hours, but Yunho holds you tightly every time, whispering soothing words and stays awake until you’ve calmed down, even if it means he has to listen to you talking about the same memories over and over just to get it out of your chest.

He insists you always have to fall asleep first. And he tries to stay awake the longer he can to keep an eye on you.

Shortly after a week has passed since your rescue, you wake up from the first from a night without those nightmares. Maybe they’ll come back some other night, but this is a good sign.

The faint light of the morning rays illuminate the man sleeping beside you. Yunho is on his back, one arm thrown over his head, the other resting possessively on your thigh.

In sleep, the harsh lines of his face soften. He looks like a fallen angel, beautiful and yet, dangerous.

You shift, still feeling a dull ache. Your ribs are still a tapestry of bruises in different stages of healing and some open wounds are yet to heal completely.

As you move, Yunho’s eyes snap open. There’s no grogginess, no slow awakening. He’s instantly alert, his gaze locking onto you, like a king checking on his most precious possession.

“Morning, princess,” he rasps, his voice thick with sleep. He sits up, the sheets pooling around his waist, and gently traces a bruise on your cheekbone with his thumb. “How do you feel today?”

“Better,” you lean into his touch. “And no bad dreams.”

A dark satisfaction flickers in his eyes.

“Good. Stay here. Rest.” It’s a soft command.

He’s already swinging his legs out of bed, moving with a lethal grace that is mesmerizing, pulling on a pair of tailored trousers and a crisp black shirt.

His facial expression shifts to one of deep focus and his eyes are no longer soft as they are when he looks directly at you. This is Yunho, the ruthless mafia king, and he’s dressing for war.

“Where are you going?” you ask, sitting in bed too with your arms around your knees.

“I have someone coming here for business,” he says, his tone clipped as he fastens the buttons on his cufflinks. “Jang had partners. They need to be reminded of the new world order, and I need to consolidate my relationships with some partners.”

He turns to you, his expression softening as he sees the worry in your eyes. He walks back to the bed, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

“This house is the safest place on earth for you right now. No one gets in or out without my say-so. Mingi and Jongho are escorting this guy in and out,” his voice is sure, and gives you confidence. You know this house is a fortress, you’re just scared because of what happened to you, but you also know Yunho wouldn’t do anything careless. “I thought you would feel more comfortable if I was having this meeting here at the house, closer to you, but if you prefer, I’ll take it elsewhere.”

You nod, your throat tight.

“No, stay. I’d rather have you close,” you admit.

He seems to be happy with your reaction.

“I’ll go downstairs and have breakfast quickly,” Yunho adds, holding your hand and squeezing. “Take your time to get ready, I’ll be in my office.”

Your lips meet with a deep kiss, his hand squeezing your ass before he leaves.

You take a shower and get ready for the day. Scratches and bruises still mark your body, so you chose a simple outfit with long sleeves and comfortable pants.

When you go downstairs, Mingi and Jongho are at the door of Yunho’s office. They ask you if you need anything, but stay put, aware of anything that feels wrong from the other side of the door.

The meeting extends more than you expected, so you make your way to the library.

Suddenly you hear voices growing closer, and you recognise the voice of the man Yunho is talking to: a sleazy politician named Mr. Park who had been at a few of Yunho’s parties. You have always disliked the way he looked at you.

You stiffen as soon as they enter the library and you see that man, and Yunho notices your reaction. He tries to show his collections of vinyls to create a distraction so you can leave if you want to, but Park doesn’t take his eyes off you. Mingi and Jongho must detect something as well, because their faces change.

“A stunning collection you have here. Truly. But the most valuable piece of art in this entire house is sitting right in that room, isn’t it?” Park’s voice is slick with insinuation.

An unpleasant shiver runs down your spine. Yunho’s reply is cold as ice.

“Watch your mouth, Park,” he says, as he places himself between Park and you.

“Oh, come now, we’re all men here. A man like you needs a beautiful distraction. But is she just for looking, or does she perform? I bet she’s a wildcat. For the right price, perhaps…”

Disgust, fear and rage pump through your veins, all at the same time. You glance at Yunho, his face is now a mask of cold fury. Next to him, Mr. Park still has his eyes fixed on you. Mingi and Jongho are ready to take action but they wait for their boss’s order.

Before you can really process the insult, Yunho moves, so fast you barely see it. In only blink of an eye he has Mr. Park by the throat, slamming him against the wall with a sickening thud that makes the paintings on the wall shudder.

“You will not speak of her,” Yunho’s voice is a low, terrifying growl, and the last time you heard it you were outside a burning estate. “You will not look at her. You will not even think about her. She is not a thing. She is not a distraction. She is mine. Do you understand what that means?”

Park is clawing at Yunho’s hand, his face turning red, his eyes bulging with terror.

“It means,” Yunho continues, his lips brushing the man’s ear, “that if I ever hear your name associated with hers again, I will cut out your tongue and feed it to you. Now get the fuck out of my house.”

He releases him, and Park crumples to the floor, gasping for air.

“Take the garbage out,” Yunho says to Mingi and Jongho, who were already grabbing Park.

Yunho watches them go, his chest heaving, his fists so tight his knuckles are white. He takes a moment to compose himself, wiping the rage from his face before he turns to you.

The transformation is instantaneous. Yunho crosses the room in three long strides until he reaches the chaise longue you are sitting at, dropping to his knees in front of you. He takes your hands in his, his grip firm but gentle.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his eyes searching yours. “Did he frighten you?”

You shake your head, your heart aching for him.

“He didn’t frighten me. Not really, not with you here. I just don’t like him.”

Yunho lifts your hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss.

“I’m sorry you had to see this side of me again so soon.”

“You don’t have to apologize for protecting me,” you say, your voice soft. “But what about your partnership?”

Yunho looks up at you, his gaze so intense but so sweet at the same time it seems you’re imagining it, and it takes your breath away.

“I couldn’t ever keep making business with a man that speaks like that about you, my love,” he cups your cheek. “You are not a possession, princess. You are my heart. And no one gets to speak about my heart.”

Yunho rises, pulling you up with him.

“Come,” he says, his voice gentle. “I’m done with the world for today. It’s just you and me now.”

He leads you back to his bedroom, his arm a secure weight around your waist.

The door to the bedroom clicks shut, the sound a definitive end to the outside world.

Yunho leads you to the edge of the bed, but instead of sitting beside you, he drops to his knees on the plush rug in front of you. It’s always breathtaking seeing Yunho on his knees before you.

His hands come to rest on your hips, his thumbs stroking the soft fabric of your pants.

“I am sorry you had to hear that,” his voice a low murmur. His eyes, dark and intense, are fixed on yours. “Let me remind you who you really are.”

Yunho’s fingers find the hem of your long-sleeved shirt and gently tug it upwards. You lift your arms, letting him pull it over your head. He discards it without a second glance, his gaze already roaming over the fading bruises that still mark your skin.

Yunho leans forward, not with lust, but with reverence, and presses a soft, lingering kiss to a yellowing bruise on your ribs. Then another on your shoulder. His lips are a feather-light apology against your skin, a silent promise to erase every bad touch with his own good ones.

His hands slide down to the waistband of your pants, and he looks up at you, like he’s asking for your permission even though he doesn’t have to.

You give a slight nod and he slowly undresses you, his movements careful and deliberate. When you’re finally bare before him, he doesn’t surge forward. He simply looks, his gaze filled with a protective adoration that makes your heart ache.

Yunho guides you to sit on the edge of the bed, then kneels again, spreading your legs with his hands on your thighs. He lowers his head, and the first touch of his tongue against your core is a jolt of pure electricity. It’s not a tentative exploration; it’s a declaration. He licks a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit, his eyes never leaving yours. The sensation and the sight make you roll your eyes with pleasure and a moan escapes your lips.

Yunho worships you with his mouth. His tongue circles your clit, teasing and sucking until your hips begin to move of their own accord, riding his face, seeking more.

He slides one finger inside you, then another, curling them just right to press against that sensitive spot deep within. The dual stimulation is overwhelming, a building pressure that coils tight in your belly. He adds a third finger, stretching you, filling you, his mouth never ceasing its delicious assault.

“Yunho,” you gasp, your hands tangling in his hair, holding him to you.

He responds by sucking your clit harder, his tongue flicking rapidly against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your orgasm crashes over you in a blinding wave of pleasure. You cry out his name, your back arching as your pussy pulses around his fingers.

Yunho works you through it, his movements slowing, drawing out every last tremor until you’re left limp and panting.

He rises to his feet, his expression dark with renewed desire. He quickly sheds his own clothes, his body a masterpiece of lean muscle in the dim light. His cock is hard and heavy, curving up towards his stomach, and the sight of it sends a fresh thrill through you.

When he approaches you, his energy has shifted. The gentle worshipper is gone, replaced by the demanding king. He’s standing and you’re sitting there, waiting to see what he’ll do even though you want to pull him to the bed and fuck him hard.

“My turn,” he growls, placing a finger on your chin and his other hand moving to the base of his hard length.

Your mouth waters when you see his big cock right in front of your face.

“Open for me.”

You obey, leaning down to take the head of his dick between your lips. He’s thick and tastes of salt and clean skin. You swirl your tongue around him, taking him deeper, but his patience is thin. His hand fists in your hair, guiding your movements, setting a pace that is both forceful and intoxicating. He’s not just receiving pleasure; he’s claiming it, and claiming you.

“Just like that,” he groans, his hips thrusting up to meet your mouth. “Look at me while you do it.”

You lift your eyes, and the primal hunger in his gaze makes you moan around his length. He pushes deeper, and you have to suppress a gag, but you don’t pull away, even though tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the pain-pleasure edge.

Yunho lets you pleasure him for a few more moments before he pulls you away when he’s about to cum, his lips crash down on yours in a bruising, possessive kiss.

He makes you lay down on your back, settling between your legs, lining himself up with your entrance, but doesn’t push inside. He rests his weight on his forearms, caging you in.

“Tell me what you want,” his voice a low growl against your ear.

“You, Yunho. I want you.” Your voice is shaky because your body craves him.

“How badly?” He nudges his hips forward, just the tip of him breaching you, a maddening tease.

“Badly,” you whimper, trying to push your hips down to take more of him, but he holds you still, denying you. “Baby, I need you inside me.”

“Beg for it, princess.” He pulls back slightly, a smug smile on his face, denying you completely. “Beg me to fuck you.”

The words, so crude from his lips, so different from the sweet things he usually says to you, send a bolt of arousal straight to your whole body.

“Please, Yunho,” you gasp, all shame forgotten, trying to pull him close. “Please, fuck me. I need you so much. Please, I’m begging you.”

That’s what he was waiting for.

“That’s my good girl,” he says with a smirk, pressing the sweetest kiss on your lips, so different from the rawness in his voice.

With a guttural groan, he slams into you, filling you completely in one powerful stroke. The sudden, intense stretch makes you cry out, in a mix of pain and profound pleasure.

After giving you time to adjust, Yunho sets a relentless rhythm, his hips snapping against yours, driving you into the mattress. His dick hits that spot deep inside you with every thrust and you see stars.

“You feel so good, princess. Everything about you feels perfect. You feel…” Yunho stops, and he could only be catching his breath but he’s taking too long to finish his sentence.

"What do I feel like?" You ask between ragged breaths.

"Mine."

That word and the way he says it adds fuel to your own fire. Your orgasm builds again, faster and more intense. You can feel yourself teetering on the edge, your body tensing as your orgasm approaches.

Just as you’re about to fall over, he stops. He buries himself deep inside you and stills, his chest heaving.

“What the fuck?,” you shout, in frustration, but your tone changes to show him how desperate you are. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

“Not yet, princess,” he rasps, his lips brushing against your temple. “Not without me.”

He waits, letting the desperate edge of your need recede just enough, then he starts again, his pace just as brutal as before. He brings you to the brink twice more, each time pulling back at the last second, leaving you a trembling, whimpering mess beneath him.

You’re babbling now, a stream of pleas and his name, completely lost to the pleasure and the denial.

“Yunho, please, I can’t… I need to cum. Please, let me cum.”

He looks down at you, at the tears of overwhelming pleasure leaking from the corners of your eyes, and something in his expression shifts.

The edging is over. He starts moving again.

“Cum with me,” he commands, his voice strained with his own impending release. “Now, princess. Cum with me.”

He drives into you one last time, a deep, powerful thrust that pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm explodes through you, more powerful than anything you’ve ever felt. Your vision whites out, your body convulsing around him as a silent scream tears from your throat.

At the same time, you feel him pulse inside you, his own release a deep, shuddering groan as he buries his face in your neck.

He collapses onto his side, pulling you with him, still connected. He wraps his arms around you, holding you so tightly it’s almost hard to breathe, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He presses a soft, sweaty kiss to your forehead.

“Mine,” he whispers, the word no longer a dark threat, but a sacred vow. “You are my heart.”

[nyxencrypted]

Hot Coffee, Sweet Aftertaste

Soft nerdy Yunho, the hot kinda shy guy from your usual coffee shop… is he really that shy and soft? Read to find out 😉

Notes:

This is for entertainment purposes only and my stories happens only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. Ateez are my main source of inspiration, and others may follow in the future, but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

— — —

The coffee shop was a part of your routine every afternoon. And recently, you have a new reason to go there. You always had a thing for hot nerds, and him?! That stranger was unreal, always in the same spot by the window, a laptop open, a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. They gave his sharp, handsome features a softer, more scholarly look.

For weeks, you built a silent ritual: shared, fleeting smiles across the room. The way he’d push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a long finger when he was deep in thought. The way his eyes would meet yours for a split second too long before he’d duck his head, with a faint blush coloring his cheeks. You felt the same heat rise on your own neck. It was a sweet, agonizing dance.

One day, you see a torrential downpour starting just as you’re packing up. You sigh, pulling your thin jacket tighter around yourself.

“Wait!”

You turn. He’s standing there, laptop bag slung over his shoulder, looking more nervous up close than he ever did from across the room.

“It’s… it’s really coming down,” he says, his voice gentle. “I have an umbrella. Let me walk you home.”

Your heart hammers against your ribs.

“You don’t have to do that,” you reply a bit shyly.

“I want to,” his voice shows a new confidence and a small, determined smile curves his lips. “I’m Yunho, by the way.”

You introduce yourself as he holds the door open. You huddle close beneath the large umbrella, the scent of rain mixing with Yunho’s perfume.

During the walk, his arm brushes against yours with every step, sending sparks through you. The shy glances are still there between the lines of your conversation, filled with easy laughs and unspoken words.

You reach the entrance to your building where a small awning offers minimal shelter from the rain.

You turn to thank him and to say goodnight, but Yunho holds your hand gently before you can say anything.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to do,” he murmurs, his tone still gentle but his eyes show you a bit of the same desire you feel.

When you don’t push back or say anything, Yunho steps closer, backing you up until your shoulders meet the cool brick wall.

“Yunho…” you whisper, but he cuts you off.

He cages you in, one hand braced against the wall beside your head, the other coming up to cup your jaw. His thumb strokes your cheek, slowly, and then his mouth is on yours. That makes you shiver in the best way and you feel your heart hammering against your chest.

The kiss is anything but shy. His lips part yours with a confident sweep of his tongue. He tastes sweet and the sensation of his wet and warm tongue dancing with yours, demanding and sensual, sends jolts of pleasure through you.

One hand slides from your jaw to your hip, pulling you flush against him. He pins you there without effort, because that’s where you want to be as well. His other hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. You cling to his shoulders, your head spinning.

He pulls back just enough to murmur against your lips: “Which floor?”

You lead him inside and up the stairs, stealing hungry, desperate kisses along the way. The moment your apartment door clicks shut, he’s on you again. He spins you around to face him, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of your neck while his hands roam freely over your body.

His jacket hits the floor and you don’t even remember the last time you saw his umbrella.

Yunho backs you toward the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. He strips you with an efficiency that leaves you breathless, his hands sure and knowing. When you’re both bare, he lifts you effortlessly, laying you on the bed like you’re something precious.

His glasses are abandoned on the nightstand now, and his eyes are burning with desire.

Yunho settles over you, his weight a delicious pressure. The frantic edge melts into something deeper, heavier. He takes his time now… his big, warm hands exploring, memorising. His mouth follows, tracing fire from your collarbones down your stomach. His eyes never leave your face, watching every gasp, every facial expression, the smallest reaction.

He stays a long moment teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock, feeling how wet you are, and the anticipation of having him, so big and hard, inside you makes your aching pussy clench around nothing.

When Yunho finally sinks into you, it’s unhurried. A stretch that pulls the air from your lungs and all you can let out is a strangled cry.

He pauses, forehead resting against yours, breath ragged.

“You okay?” he asks, voice rough.

You can only nod, wrapping your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, adjusting to his size.

Yunho starts moving, hips rolling in a steady, powerful rhythm that makes your vision blur. His hands grip your hips, holding you exactly where he wants you. His name spills from your lips like a mantra, and you see him smiling like he finally achieved something he really wanted.

He shifts slightly, changes the angle, and pleasure explodes through you. You cry out, nails digging into his back as the tension builds until it’s on the edge of being overwhelming.

He holds your wrists and pins them above your head, lowering his head to nibble your neck.

“Let go,” he murmurs against your ear. “I’ve got you.”

And you do.

The orgasm crashes over you, blinding, shattering, leaving you trembling beneath him. He follows moments later with a cry of your name, his body shuddering as he finds his release.

He collapses onto you, face tucked into your neck, and your breaths start slowly syncing.

He presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.

Then he rolls onto his side, pulling you with him, your head resting on his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear.

He reaches for his glasses on the nightstand and puts them back on. When he looks down at you, a gentle, genuine smile softens his face. He’s both versions of himself at once: the quiet, sexy nerd and the man who just wrecked you.

“Hi,” he says softly.

You laugh, breathless and happy.

“Hi, Yunho.”

Yunho kisses your forehead, arms tightening around you, and then your lips, a deep kiss that slowly starts turning into something hotter.

He pulls back, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face, as if he can read your mind:

“Round two?”

[nyxencrypted]

Imagine waking up next to him

(A short and soft story for you today, that you can remember any day when you wake up 🤭)

The first thing you’re aware is of his warmth, a pleasant weight that anchors you to the mattress. Your eyelids flutter, not quite ready to open, and you breathe in the scent of clean cotton and… him.

You shift slightly and a strong arm tightens around your waist, pulling you back against a firm chest. A low, sleepy “hum” vibrates against your spine and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips.

Your phone is on the nightstand and you know there’s a countdown to the chaos of a work day.

You turn your body slowly to fully face him.

Yunho’s face is relaxed, his dark hair is a soft mess across the pillow. It’s a side of him you feel privileged to see, a secret just for you.

You reach out with your hand, your fingers barely grazing his cheek. His skin is warm. You trace the line of his jaw, he stirs, his nose twitching and his eyes slowly blink open.

They’re hazy with sleep but they find yours almost instantly.

“Morning, princess,” his voice is low. It’s your favorite sound.

“Morning,” you whisper back.

A slow, lazy smile spreads across his face and he leans in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead.

“What time is it?” Yunho murmurs against your hair, his arm still around you.

“Time we should probably start moving,” you sigh.

He groans, a dramatic sound that makes you chuckle.

“No. Don’t go. Stay here with me.” Yunho buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin. “It’s too early for the real world.”

“I know,” you say, running your fingers through his soft hair. “But you need to go too.”

He sighs because he knows it’s true. For a moment you both just lie there. It’s tempting to just close your eyes and let the world outside disappear.

“Five more minutes,” he negotiates, his lips brushing against yours. “Just five.”

You know it’s a lie.

Five minutes with Yunho always turns into ten, then fifteen. But looking at his hopeful, sleepy, perfect face, you realise you don’t care. You can be a little late today.

“Okay,” you concede, melting back into his embrace. “Five more minutes.”

He rewards you with another soft kiss, this one on the corner of your mouth, and then your lips. It’s sweet and unhurried, a promise that even though the day is rushing towards you, this small, perfect moment is all yours.

It’s also a promise of what you’re coming back to later today, after both of you finish work.

[nyxencrypted]

Past Off Limits

Synopsis: You and Yunho run in the same circles but have never crossed the line from flirty banter to anything more. Tonight, at a crowded birthday dinner for a mutual friend, the game of cat and mouse reaches its breaking point.

Notes:

This is for entertainment purposes only and my stories happens only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. Ateez are my main source of inspiration, and others may follow, but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

— — — — — — — — — —

In the restaurant there’s a symphony of clinking cutlery and glasses, conversations and laughter. You’re wedged into a corner of a long table, trying to follow a story from a friend across from you, but your attention keeps drifting.

Yunho is right next to you, and you know he picked that spot deliberately to mess with you.

He’s not even looking at you, but since he arrived you can feel his presence pulling you towards him. He’s leaning back in his chair, one arm draped casually along the back, his long fingers just inches from your shoulder. He's listening to someone else, nodding, a polite smile on his face, but you know he's aware of you. He's always aware.

You force yourself to turn back to your conversation, taking a sip of your drink.

You adjust your seat as the waiter clears the plates. Yunho’s knee follows yours beneath the table, aligning perfectly, deliberate enough to be felt but subtle enough to deny. He keeps talking to the person beside him, calm and composed, while the quiet pressure against your leg makes it impossible to focus.

He knows exactly what he’s doing.

You don't pull away. You feel your heart beating faster and your stutter a little mid-conversation with your friend. That annoys you, because you’re painfully aware that he knows exactly how much he’s affecting you.

He wins. You risk a glance and find him already looking at you, his dark eyes holding a glint of triumph and something hotter, and also a smug sense of victory in his posture.

"Bored,” he mouths at you.

You narrow your eyes and mouth back, "Too bad."

His lips twitch into a smirk. He subtly withdraws his leg, only to let his hand fall from the back of the chair. His knuckles brush against your shoulder, a feather-light touch that sears through your thin sweater.

You suppress a shiver. Suddenly, that space feels too small. You need to catch some fresh air. You’ll do something reckless if you don’t, because that man has been testing your limits for too long.

You mumble an excuse about an early morning and make your goodbyes, a round of quick hugs and promises to call. You feel his eyes on you the entire time. You say goodbye to him politely and turn to the leave, not look back. As you pay at the counter and head for the front of the restaurant, your heart is pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

The cool night air is a shock to your body as you step onto the sidewalk. You take a deep breath, trying to clear your head, to regain the composure you lost in there. You stay there regaining control of your thoughts and your breathing. You hear the door of the restaurant open and close, and that startles you a little, so you decide to move..

A few seconds after you start walking, a hand closes gently around your arm, stopping you in your tracks. You don't have to turn to know who it is.

"Leaving so soon?" His voice is low, a deep rumble that vibrates right through you.

"I have a thing," you lie, turning to face him.

He raises an eyebrow, unconvinced.

"A thing."

"I was bored,” you say, rolling your eyes at his insistence.

"I was bored too," he replies with the sweetest and most innocent smile. “You were the one making it a little fun.”

"What do you want, Yunho?" You ask, crossing your arms.

He takes a step closer, crowding you against the brick wall of the building next to the restaurant. The playful smirk is gone, replaced by an intensity that steals the breath from your lungs.

"I want to stop pretending," he says simply.

"You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?" You try to play hard to get, but your tone betrays you.

"Game over,” he murmurs, and he doesn’t even give you time to reply.

He leans in and kisses you, and it’s not soft or sweet. It’s hungry and demanding, and it tastes of wine, longing and frustration. It’s a kiss that’s been months in the making.

One of his hands cups the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in place. The other presses flat against the wall beside your head, caging you in.

You don’t even try to resist. You kiss him back just as fiercely, your hands fisting in the front of his black leather jacket. All the resistance, all the witty comebacks, dissolve in an instant. This is what you've been wanting. Your skin is burning and you can already feel a your breath going shallower, your muscles tightening, your thighs clenching.

Yunho breaks the kiss, his breathing ragged. His eyes search yours as he presses his hips against your body, and you can feel his already hardened cock through the layers of clothes. That makes you moan softly with all the pent up desire you’ve been hiding.

"Come," he murmurs.

He takes your hand, his grip firm and sure, and pulls you into the shadows. He pushes the back door of the restaurant and pulls you inside, scanning the surroundings.

“I know the owner,” he explains. “There’s a staff-only restroom here.”

As soon as you see that said restroom, a warmth gathers between your legs.

He closes the door and pins you against the wall, his mouth finds yours again, more frantic this time.

Yunho’s warm hands are everywhere, sliding under your sweater, skimming over your ribs, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts.

You arch into him, your own hands exploring the hard lines of his chest and back. You can hear the desperate beat of your own heart and his harsh breathing in your ear.

"Tell me to stop," he whispers against your throat, his teeth scraping your skin. "Tell me to stop and I will."

His words are a match to the gasoline-soaked air between you. You grab his face, forcing him to look at you. You no longer care about his smugness because he was right about you wanting him as much as he wants you.

"Don't you dare stop,” you say, because you no longer care if he wins.

A low growl rumbles in his chest as he claims your mouth again, his kiss bruising. There's no more teasing, no more games. This is pure need.

His hands move with a newfound urgency, tugging your sweater up and over your head before you can even process it. The cool air of the restroom raises goosebumps on your skin, a stark contrast to the fire building inside you.

He pauses for half a second, his dark eyes roaming over you, and the raw hunger you see there makes your knees weak and your pussy throb. He looks at you like you're a feast he's been starving for.

"Yunho," you breathe… his name is a plea on your lips.

He answers by spinning you around, pressing your front against the cool tiled wall. His hands are on your hips, his body flush against your back. You can feel every hard line of him, the proof of his desire digging into your ass. His breath is hot against your ear as he nips at the sensitive skin of your neck.

"You have no idea…" Yunho murmurs, his voice rough. "No idea how long I've wanted this. How many times I've thought about shutting you up like this."

You arch your back, pushing back against him.

"Then you should stop talking,” you manage, even if your thoughts are fuzzy.

He chuckles, a dark, sexy sound.

"Still a brat,” he murmurs, amused, but his hands keep moving to the button of your jeans and sliding the zipper down.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your jeans and your panties, tugging them down in one swift motion. They pool around your ankles, and before you can even feel register it, one of his hands cups your breast, squeezing and pinching your nipple just enough to make your head spin in the edge of pain and pleasure.

You hear the sound of his own zipper opening and the anticipation is a delicious agony. You grip the edge of the sink for support, your knuckles white.

Yunho positions himself at your slick entrance, the thick head of his cock teasing you.

"Look at me, baby,” he commands softly, his hand reaching your neck.

You push yourself up, turning your head to meet his gaze in the mirror over the sink. His hair is a mess from your hands, his lips are swollen from your kisses, and his eyes are burning with an intensity that scorches you right through.

And then, finally, he pushes into you, a deep, claiming thrust that steals the air from your lungs. Yunho fills you completely, stretching you in a way that borders on pain but feels so overwhelmingly right.

He gives you a moment to adjust, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his ragged breathing the only sound.

“So wet for me,” he whispers in your ear, and you can sense the pride in his voice.

Then he starts to move.

His rhythm sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. One hand grips your neck gently to make you look at him at all moments through the mirror, while the other snakes around to find your swollen clit. He circles it with a practiced touch, knowing exactly how to drive you wild.

"Is this what you wanted?" Yunho grits out, his voice strained with effort. "All that fire, all that fight... was this how you wanted it to end?"

You can only manage a choked “Fuck you!” in response, making him chuckle and bite the junction of your neck and your shoulder.

The pressure is building, a tight coil in your stomach winding tighter with every thrust, every flick of his thumb. You’re a whimpering mess in his arms.

You watch him in the mirror, watch the way his muscles flex in his arms and back, the way his jaw is clenched in concentration, the fire and desire in his eyes. It's the most erotic thing you've ever seen.

"Stop fighting, baby" Yunho urges, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Be a good girl and cum for me."

Your orgasm crashes over you and you cry out his name, your body convulsing around his cock, your vision going white with pleasure. Yunho follows you over the edge a moment later with a guttural groan, burying himself deep inside you as he finds his own release.

For a long moment, you both just stay there, leaning against each other, your bodies slick with sweat.

He gently pulls out and you slowly straighten up, even if your legs are still feeling like jelly.

Yunho turns you around to face him, his expression softer now, the intensity replaced by something tender.

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs stroking your cheeks gently.

“So, you’ll stop running? Stop pretending?" he says, a small, genuine smile playing on his lips. "Game over?"

You look up at him, a slow smile spreads across your own face.

"Maybe," you whisper, leaning in to kiss him softly. "Or maybe... we just started playing for real."

[nyxencrypted]

Ashes and Devotion

Imagine a morally grey Jeong Yunho: unapologetically possessive, ruthlessly protective. His devotion is sharp like a knife, unwavering and precise. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t negotiate. And forgiveness doesn’t exist when someone dares to touch the only thing in this world he truly loves: you.

Notes: This is for entertainment purposes only and my story happens only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. They are my main source of inspiration but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

The memory of the last seventy-two hours was a blur of concrete walls and the metallic taste of blood. The air is thick with smoke, biting at your lungs as you stumble across the gravel. Jang’s estate isn't a house anymore; it’s a skeleton. The windows are blown out, the facade pockmarked with bullets.

Mingi, one of Yunho’s most trusted men, has a firm grip on your arm, practically holding you up as he guides you through the carnage. Your side aches where one of the guards had kicked you during the interrogation, and your vision is still swimming from the blow to your head.

"Steady," Mingi mutters, his eyes scanning the dark perimeter. He looks as wrecked as the house, his tie loose and sleeves rolled up. "He’s in the courtyard. Just... give him a minute. He’s still coming down from it."

You swallow hard, nodding. You know what "coming down from it" means. You had heard the gunfire cease only moments ago, and the silence now is louder than the noise had been.

You round the corner of the burning estate. The flames are consuming the whole house and at the center of the driveway, a massive bonfire roars, the carcass of a luxury car among the wreckage.

Yunho is there, amidst the fire that would soon be ashes.

He stands by the bonfire, flames dancing in his eyes. Smoke thickens the air, heavy with the promise of violence. In this world of tailored suits, calculated moves and silent executions, you know you’re the spark. But you wonder how much of the world will turn to ash because of you.

Yunho turns.

Sharp.

Devastating.

Untouchable in his black suit.

His gaze locks onto you, possessive, unyielding.

Your lip is split, your wrist throbbing where the zip ties had cut into the skin, and a dark bruise is blooming across your cheekbone: the marks of Jang’s message. They had wanted to break Yunho by hurting you. They knew if there’s a way of getting to him is through you, the one he loves. They had sent him the video of you, thinking it would force him to his knees.

They were wrong. It hadn't broken him. It had unmade him.

For a second, he doesn't move. He just stares at you, his chest heaving. Then, his eyes shift to Mingi, giving him a curt nod like he’s saying: She’s here. You can go.

Mingi gently releases your arm, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze before leaving.

Yunho’s eyes drop to your bruised cheek and you see a ghost of the rage that had slaughtered every guard in this building just minutes ago. But he masks it instantly, his jaw tightening as he takes in the sight of you standing, breathing, alive.

There’s no hesitation when he answers your unspoken question.

“Let the world fall apart.” A dark laugh leaves his lips as he walks toward you, one arm sliding around your waist, the other lifting your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. His grip is tight, almost bruising, grounding you against him. “I’d burn it all down in a heartbeat for you.”

You wince slightly as his hand brushes your ribs, and he instantly freezes, his eyes darkening with a murderous glint again. He lets out a harsh breath, his forehead dropping to rest against yours.

“I should have been sooner,” he growls, his hand shifting to cradle the back of your neck.

His thumb brushes gently over the cut on your lip, the tender motion at odds with the blood still spattering the crisp white collar of his shirt.

“I made sure they regretted it,” he says, his voice devoid of emotion. “I made sure they understood that touching you was a death sentence. This also sends a message to everyone who thinks about messing with you in the future.”

You look up at him, seeing the fire reflected in his eyes. You closed your eyes, inhaling the scent of him: smoke, expensive cologne, blood. It should have terrified you, the realization that the man holding you had just slaughtered a house full of people. But as his arms tightened around you, shielding you from the ruins, you don’t feel fear. Yes, he’s chaos, but he’s also comfort… at the same time.

“You came for me,” you say softly, your voice almost a whisper. “They said you wouldn’t. They told me you’d given up on me.”

Yunho doesn’t speak. He cradles your face with a gentleness that is only meant for you.

“They played mind games, Yunho. But I never said a word about what I know. I love you, and even if you never came for me, your secrets would have died with me.”

Tears run down your face and your heart his thumping so hard you’re afraid it will jump out of your ribcage.

The way Yunho is staring at you shows you he’s not hurt, he’s not judging you, he’s not blaming you. He knows what type of tricks those people use, the way they can mess with one’s mind. Because he’s like them.

“I will always come for you, princess,” he swore, his lips pressing a searing kiss to your forehead. “Even if I have to burn the entire world to the ground to do it.” Looking at you with nothing but devotion, Yunho adds softly. “And I will kill anyone who ever makes you doubt that again.”

You stay silent because you know he’s speaking the truth. Strangely you feel grateful… always do when it comes to him. Even if some parts of his life are made of the stuff of nightmares.

Yunho scoops you into his arms bridal style. You let out a sharp hiss as the shift presses on your bruised ribs, and he stills for a fraction of a second, his jaw a tight line of fury before he resumes moving with exaggerated care. Because that’s him: ruthless to the rest of the world but you… he calls you princess but you’re his queen.

“Shh,” he murmurs gently against your hair. “I’ve got you.”

He carries you past the burning wreckage, past Mingi and some of his other men who stand guard by a sleek black sedan.

The world becomes a blur of flashing red and blue lights in the distance, the wail of sirens growing closer. Yunho doesn't hurry. He’s utterly unconcerned with the consequences of his actions because he believes he’s untouchable.

He settles you into the plush leather backseat, sliding in beside you and pulling you against his chest. The car pulls away smoothly, leaving the chaos behind.

The drive is silent. You lean your head against his shoulder, the steady rhythm of his breathing comforting you. One of his arms is around you, pulling you close. His other hand rests on your thigh, a possessive and grounding weight.

He doesn't speak, and you don't need him to. In the car you can feel the lingering scent of smoke and blood that clings to him like a second skin. You see love and devotion in his eyes when he looks at you, but in the rare moments he looks away, you catch glimpses of fury, fire, and a will to raise hell.

When the car finally stops at his mansion, Yunho helps you out, his arm steady around your waist as he leads you through massive oak doors into the foyer.

He bypasses the grand staircase, guiding you down a quiet hallway to a set of double doors. He pushes them open to reveal his private quarters.

“Sit down, princess,” he says, his voice low as he guides you to the edge of the bed.

You sink into the soft fabric, your body aching in protest. He disappears into the adjoining bathroom, returning a moment later with a first-aid kit and a basin of warm water. He kneels before you, the picture of a devout worshipper, and his dark eyes meet yours.

“This is going to sting,” he warns, his voice a rough whisper.

He gently takes your hand, his thumb brushing over the skin where the ties had bitten into your wrists. He works with a focused intensity, cleaning the wounds with an antiseptic wipe. You wince and he pauses, his gaze flicking up to yours, like a silent apology in his eyes before he continues.

He moves to your split lip, dabbing at it with incredible care, his touch so at odds with the man who had just burned down an empire.

Once your face and hands are tended to, his eyes drift down to your side.

“Lift your shirt,” he commands, his voice soft but leaving no room for argument.

You hesitate for only a second before slowly pulling the hem of your shirt up, revealing the mottled purple and blue bruise spreading across your ribs. A low growl rumbles in his chest, a sound of pure, primal rage. This is why you hesitated… you knew how it would make him feel.

He doesn't touch the bruise at first. He leans forward, his warm breath ghosting over your skin.

Then, gently, his lips press against the edge of the discoloration. He trails his mouth along the perimeter of the bruise, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. It’s a strange, electrifying mix of pleasure and pain. His mouth moves over the dark bloom on your cheekbone, your split lip, the tender skin of your wrists. He’s worshipping you where they hurt you more, turning their marks of violence into his own brand of devotion.

“I’m so sorry, princess,” he breathes against your stomach, his hands sliding down your thighs to push your pants down to your hips. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there sooner. I’m so sorry they did this to you because of me.”

You cup his face, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

“I would choose you in every fucking lifetime even if it meant I had to go through all of that hell again.”

Your voice is sure, you mean every word. And you that if the roles were reversed, he would say the exact same thing to you. Those words make him smirk, like he’s proud of you and proud of himself.

Yunho’s gaze is intense as he settles between your legs. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, slowly drawing them down your legs and tossing them aside. He looks up at you from his knees. Your pussy tingles at the sight… such a powerful man kneeling in front of you ready to worship you in the most intimate way. You feel a new rush of adrenaline through your veins.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs.

Then, Yunho lowers his head. His first lick is a slow, deliberate stripe through your slick folds, and your entire body arche. He groans against you, as he adjusts the already aching cock inside his trousers, begging to be freed.

He eats you like a man starved, his tongue exploring every part of you with a ferocious hunger. But his hands are gentle, his touch tender.

He licks and sucks, not just tasting you: he’s devouring you, erasing every touch, every violation from the last seventy-two hours and replacing it with his own presence, devotion and love. The only thing you can feel, the only thing you can know, is Yunho. His mouth, his hands, his claim on your body.

As the pressure inside you coils tighter and tighter, Yunho seems to sense it, his movements becoming more deliberate, more demanding. He flattens his tongue and licks a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, then sucks the sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth, flicking it with the tip of his tongue.

The world shatters. A choked sob tears from your throat as your orgasm crashes through you, all-consuming. Your back bows off the bed, your thighs clamping around his head as wave after wave of pleasure wracks your body. He doesn’t stop, his mouth working you through it, prolonging the ecstasy until you’re a trembling, oversensitive mess beneath him.

As the tremors subside, he finally lifts his head. His face is glistening with your essence, his lips swollen and his eyes burning with a feral, possessive light that steals your breath. He looks like a god who has just partaken of his most sacred offering.

Yunho rises from the floor in one fluid motion. He shrugs out of his suit jacket, letting it fall to the floor, then his hands go to his tie. He doesn't take it off. He loosens it just enough, his gaze never leaving yours as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. The fabric parts, revealing a chest that is sculpted and powerful.

He is beautiful and he is all yours. You feel a new rush of desire that makes you forget all the pain.

He climbs onto the bed, caging you in with his body. He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need to. He knows by the way you look at him that you want this as much as he does.

Yunho gently grips your hips and flips you over, maneuvering you until you’re straddling his lap, your knees sinking into the velvet on either side of his powerful thighs. His hard length presses against you through the fabric of his trousers, a promise of what’s to come.

“Are you okay, princess?” He asks, his eyes focused on your every reaction. He knows the high from the adrenaline won’t last forever.

You wince a little, but you know it will hurt less if you have the control. You take a moment to breathe, your desire growing stronger as you feel his hardness against you.

“I am,” you answer.

“Ride me,” he says, almost begging. It’s a way of him asking for forgiveness for what happened. “Take what you need. Show me you’re still mine.”

His hands go to the button of his pants and you bat them away, your own fingers fumbling with the zipper. You need this. You need to be the one to take him, to claim him the way he’s claimed you.

You free his cock, thick and heavy in your hand, and he hisses as your thumb brushes over the sensitive head.

You rise up on your knees, positioning him at your entrance. You sink down slowly, your body stretching to accommodate him. The feeling of him filling you, inch by inch, is almost overwhelming.

You look deep into his eyes, pausing for a few seconds.

“I’m yours, Yunho” you say, feeling his cock twitching inside you. “And I always will be.”

Yunho bites his lower lip, hands tightening on your hips as a quiet breath slips from him: relief. As if some part of him feared you’d finally see the danger in loving a man like him… and decide his morally grey heart was too dark for you to stay.

You start to move in a slow rhythm that has you both groaning. His hands grip your ass, guiding you. You brace your hands on his shoulders, your fingers digging into the hard muscle.

You look down at him, at the fire in his eyes and the devotion etched onto his face. This is the man who burned down an enemy’s empire for you. This is the man who would do it again.

You pick up the pace, riding him harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your breathless moans and his low grunts of approval.

The friction builds, the pleasure coiling deep in your belly once more. He leans forward, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and biting just hard enough to send a jolt of electricity straight to your core.

“Yunho,” you gasp, his name a prayer on your lips.

“Come for me again, princess,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice filled with restraint. “Come with me this time. Let me feel you.”

His words are your undoing, the final spark that ignites your second orgasm, even more powerful than the first. Your inner walls clench around him like a vice.

With a guttural roar, Yunho slams his hips up into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he finds his own release. You feel the hot pulse of his climax deep inside you.

You collapse against his chest, both of you shaking and spent, your bodies slick with sweat.

Yunho holds you there, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his heart hammering against your ear. He’s still inside you, and you don’t want to move.

He tilts your chin up, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slow, deep, and impossibly tender. It’s a sealing kiss, a promise made and kept in fire and blood.

“You’re safe now,” Yunho whispers against your mouth. “No one will ever dare to touch you again.”

[nyxencrypted]

Starstruck Backstage

This is for entertainment purposes only and my story happen only in my head. They don't reflect the actions of real people. They are my main source of inspiration but my content is purely fictional. Characters may share names or some similarities with public figures, but they are entirely fictionalised and do not represent real individuals in any way.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Your love for fashion led you here, to this big fashion show in Paris. You’ve always dreamt of working in the fashion industry. You could hardly believe it when you were invited to work in this particular fashion show where HE would be the main star… at least for you.

Park Seonghwa. You always wanted to meet him.

On the backstage, you feel excited and nervous, your hands shaking a little, but you keep your head up and work with confidence. You chose your best dress: one you designed yourself, in a beautiful shade of blue filled with dozens of shiny silver stars that fits your figure perfectly.

Backstage is chaos that somehow turns into elegance. Models moving graciously, assistants whispering last-minute instructions, heels clicking on the floor like a countdown. Your hands tremble slightly as you adjust a final seam. You take a deep breath. Chin up. Professional. You belong here.

Still… the thought of him walking these halls makes something coil low in your stomach.

Suddenly, a murmur passes through backstage, his name moving like a current.

Seonghwa steps into view with confidence, dressed in an unfinished look, fabric draped but not yet perfected.

You tell yourself not to stare… 

You fail.

Your gaze flicks to him as you reach for a garment rack, nervous fingers brushing the silk. He’s surrounded by staff, but he’s there, close enough you could touch him if you tried.

“Five minutes,” someone says nearby.

A stylist calls for assistance. You step forward without thinking.

“I can handle it,” you hear your own voice say, steadier than you feel but in your mind your screaming: what the fuck am I doing?! 

You approach him with professionalism. Up close, he smells beautifully and it makes your head spin. He turns slightly toward you, eyes observant while you do what you need to do.

And they linger. Curious.

Your hands move to adjust the collar of his jacket carefully. You’re aware of everything at once: the heat of his body beneath the fabric and so close to your fingertips, the way he stands perfectly still for you.

“Is this okay?” you ask softly, more for formality than necessity.

He nods. “Yes.”

His voice is low, which has a calming effect. It slides under your skin like a sweet poison and your breath hitches.

“Thank you,” he adds, eyes still on you, as he holds your hands in his because he notices they’re still shaking a little. “This is perfect. Don’t be nervous. Is this your first time?”

“In an event this big?” You can’t barely think but you force yourself to speak, your voice almost a whisper. “Yes… yes, it is.”

Someone calls your name and he lets go of you, as if he was caught doing something a little wrong. You instantly crave the tenderness of this touch, the warmth of his skin.

But as you turn away, you feel his gaze follow you. You force yourself to focus on the next task, adjusting a model's hemline while your mind replays the warmth of his hands on yours. The scent of him, something sweet and spicy, lingers in your memory.

"Places, everyone! The show is starting!" The director's voice cuts through the backstage chaos.

Models line up and you watch as Seonghwa takes his position. He catches your eye one last time before stepping onto the runway, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. You hold your breath trying to remain really still until he disappears behind the curtain.

The next thirty minutes pass in a blur of frantic activity. You're always busy. But your attention keeps drifting back to the glimpses of Seonghwa as he models different looks. Each time he returns backstage for a quick change, your eyes meet for just a moment longer than necessary.

As the finale approaches, the energy backstage shifts. The final looks are being prepared, and you're assigned to help Seonghwa with his closing outfit. This time, when you approach him, you’re even more nervous than the first time.

"You've been watching me," he says softly as you fasten the buttons on his silk shirt. It’s shy and sounds almost like a question.

"I've been doing my job," you reply, trying to sound convincing, though your voice betrays you.

His laugh is low and warm. "Is that all it is?"

Before you can answer, the director calls for final positions. Seonghwa squeezes your hand once before heading to the runway.

"See you later," he murmurs with a soft, almost imperceptible smile with a lingering glance before he walks off.

The finale passes in a haze of flashing lights and applause. When Seonghwa takes his final bow, the crowd erupts. As you watch him, a strange mix of pride and desire swirling in your stomach.

After the show, the backstage area transforms into a celebration. Champagne corks pop, laughter echoes off the walls, the tension from earlier melts into relief.

You search for Seonghwa to congratulate him, and he’s already watching you from afar. He’s pretending to pay attention to what the people around him are saying, but his eyes keep meeting yours.

You play this game for a few moments until he walks to you with a polite smile on his face, but his eyes are burning. You congratulate him, tell him how good he looked, while he watches you more than he actually speaks. Your hands touch briefly, lightening a spark inside of you. But that’s nothing compared to the tingling between your legs when he places the hand on your lower back while he talks to someone else who approached, like he’s telling you not to leave yet.

Shortly after that, someone announces that there’s an after party. Your first thought is that your bed would be your best friend right now, after all the excitement and nervousness of tonight.

“Coming?” Seonghwa asks you, sweet smile, gentle eyes, almost shy.

You say you’ll meet him there, and the way he smiles at you on his way out makes you firmly believe you need to go to that party. But you also need time to compose yourself.

– – – – – – – – – – 

You arrive with some coworkers, many others are already there. You can see how tired everyone is, but how they also need to celebrate. Your boss is drunk and that makes her even funnier and more relaxed around you.

“Park Seonghwa asked me your name,” she eventually tells you.

“What?” You ask, because you must have heard it wrong. “Who?”

“Park Seonghwa,” she repeats his name really slowly and she nods her head to point where he is. “Come on, girl, have you been living under a rock?”

“Oh, no! I know who he is… I just…”

“You’re lucky… Don’t waste your shot,” your boss says with a wink. Yeah, she’s drunk otherwise she wouldn’t say any of that to you since she’s a little uptight, but you giggle as you see her float away to find someone else.

When you look back at the place Hwa was at, you can’t find him, but you feel a familiar scent around you: sweet and spicy. He stops just close enough for you to feel the faint warmth radiating from him.

“You survived,” he says softly, a half-smile tugging at his lips. Calm and teasing, but just enough to make your heart skip.

“I… think so,” you breathe, fingers tightening around your glass. “It was… hectic.”

“Did I make it more hectic for you?” His tone is low, playful, but a little shy.

You feel a flush creep up your neck.

“Uh…” no words come out.

He leans slightly closer, tilting his head, eyes holding yours in that way that made the room disappear.

“Apparently I did,” he says, his eyes travelling to your mouth, to your neck, your collarbone, and finally lock with yours again.

That makes you feel your pussy tingling again and you fight the urge to clench your thighs.

The music thumps around you. You want to say something but your words feel trapped.

He reaches out, brushing your hand. The contact is electric, sending a jolt straight through you despite its lightness. His thumb traces circles on your palm, and you can feel your pulse hammering beneath his touch.

“How beautiful you are,” Hwa says, his voice in a lower tone, his eyes showing a mix of desire and adoration.

You’re sure your cheeks are red by now and you feel your heart thumping against your ribcage.

"Follow me," Hwa says, and you know it’s not a question.

He doesn't let go of your hand as he threads through the crowd, pulling you behind him with ease. You pass your boss, who gives you a drunken thumbs up and a wink that makes you blush. Seonghwa doesn't seem to notice. He leads you down a hallway marked "Private," away from the loud music and flashing lights.

He stops before a heavy, unmarked door, pulling a keycard from his pocket. 

"Staff locker room," he explains, swiping the card. The lock clicks open. "For models to freshen up."

The moment the door clicks shut behind you, your world shifts. The room is clean, with a long padded bench, rows of lockers and a tiled shower area in the back.

He turns to you, his eyes dark with intent. 

"I've been thinking about this since I first saw you backstage," he admits, closing the distance between you. "About tasting you."

WHAT?!

At first you thought you may have heard him wrong… Why the hell would Park Seonghwa say that to you? He’s always so composed…

Your breath hitches as his hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him. His cock is already hard, pressing insistently against your stomach through the layers of your clothes. Your mouth opens but no sound comes out. All you can do is melt in his arms as you feel your desire growing.

“Tell me you want me too,” he whispers, and you simply nod.

Without asking for permission, he kisses you hungry and demanding. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, claiming you, and you respond with equal fervor, your hands fisting in the front of his shirt.

"Can't wait," he pants against your lips, already working at the button of your jeans. "Need you now."

He spins you around, pressing your front against the cool metal of the lockers. That sends a shiver through you and you feel the heat pooling between your legs. His hands are sure as he slides your dress up and panties down over your hips, letting them pool around your ankles. One of his hands holds your hip, the other travels down your body.

You tilt your head, giving Seonghwa better access to your neck, and his tongue finds your sensitive skin there. You moan as he nibbles from the spot behind your ear to your shoulder and back up.

Seonghwa’s fingers find your needy pussy, gliding gently through your slick folds.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans. "All this for me, baby?"

Then, before you could even think about an answer, he moves gracefully, picking you up bridal style and laying you down on the bench as he settles between your thighs as he pulls your dress up to your waist.

"Spread your legs for me," he commands, his voice rough with desire.

You obey, the anticipation making you feel goosebumps all over your body. The first touch of his tongue against your folds makes you gasp. You can only moan in response, as his tongue delves deeper.

He's thorough, exploring every inch with precision, but there's an urgency to his movements that matches your own. He finds your clit, circling it slowly before sucking gently. The sensation sends waves of pleasure through you, and you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out louder.

"Seonghwa," you gasp, your fingers finding his hair.

He hums against you, the vibration adding another layer of sensation. He slides a finger inside you, curling it just right, and you nearly come undone.

"Do you like this?" he asks, already knowing the answer.

He adds another finger, stretching you deliciously while his mouth continues its assault on your clit. The dual sensation builds quickly, and you feel your legs shaking as your pussy clenches around Seonghwa’s fingers.

"Come for me, baby" he murmurs against your sensitive flesh. "Want to feel you come on my tongue."

His words are your undoing. The orgasm crashes through you, intense and overwhelming. Your knees buckle, but he holds you up, his arm wrapped securely around your thighs as he works you through it, prolonging the pleasure until you're trembling and oversensitive.

Only then does he pull away, standing up and settling between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance.

"Still with me?" he asks softly, his lips brushing your ear.

You nod. "Please," you breathe. "I need you inside me."

He lines himself up and pushes in slowly, your body still fluttering from your orgasm. The stretch is exquisite. 

He groans, his forehead resting against yours. "Fuck, you feel incredible."

He starts to move, his strokes deep and measured at first, building a rhythm that has you seeing stars. The angle is perfect, hitting that sensitive spot inside you with each thrust.

That sends you hurtling toward another peak.

"Harder," you gasp, needing more.

He complies, his movements becoming more forceful, more urgent. The room fills with the sounds of your pleasure: skin slapping against skin, breathless moans, whispered encouragement.

"Come with me, baby" he pants, his rhythm becoming erratic. "Now."

His words trigger your second release, and you cray out his name as you clench around him. Your orgasm milks his own, and you feel him pulse inside you as he groans your name, burying his face in your neck.

For a moment, you both just breathe. The only sounds are the distant thump of the party and your ragged breaths. He presses soft kisses to your neck and shoulder, a gentle contrast to the frantic intensity of moments before.

"We should," Seonghwa starts, but doesn't finish, his eyes showing the same disappointment you feel inside.

"I know," you whisper, reluctantly straightening up as he pulls out.

His eyes soften as he cups your face in his hands. 

"Stay with me tonight," he says, and it's not a question. "After this is over."

You nod, unable to speak, and he seals the promise with a slow, deep kiss that leaves you breathless all over again.