ꜱɪʟᴇɴᴛᴛʀxxꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ
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❦ The Crimson Archive ❦
Every kingdom has its legends. Every curse has its price.
Welcome to my collection of ATEEZ stories, where love is dangerous, fate is unforgiving, and happily ever after is never guaranteed.
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K̷i̷m̷ ̷H̷o̷n̷g̷j̷o̷o̷n̷g̷
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its all an act
its all an act - NSFW - MDNI
his favourite distraction
his favourite distraction - NSFW - MDNI
letters folded like secrets
the weight of the world - P1
the weight of the world - P2
all i want is you
whispers in the quiet
office after hours - NSFW - MDNI
come home, captain (link under construction)
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you dont have to pretend with me - P1
you dont have to pretend with me - P2
you dont have to pretend with me - P3
you dont have to pretend with me - P4
starlight
the shape of being loved
after midnight - NSFW
you dont belong to me but i wish you did - NSFW MDNI
stolen moments - NSFW MDNI
you are my north star (link under construction)
──────────────────────J̷e̷o̷n̷g̷ ̷Y̷u̷n̷h̷o̷
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the day we got lost on purpose
the night is still young
you keep falling asleep here
mistletoe mischief
is it supposed to sparkle
coachella - NSFW MDNI
hold to continue (link under construction)
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One more birthday wish
You asked for this -NSFW MDNI - P5
you asked for this - NSFW MDNI- P4
you asked for this - NSFW MDNI - P3
you asked for this - NSFW MDNI- P2
you asked for this - NSFW MDNI- P1
Side Effects may include me
By the window
Day Off - NSFW MDNI
one more rep (link under construction)
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If you break ill catch you
Run from me - P1
Run from me - P2
Run from me - P3
Run from me - P4
run from me - P5
run from me - P5
run from me - P6
run from me - P7
run from me - P8
run from me - P9
You shouldnt be up here
Midnight Thirst - NSFW MDNI
Warm where you are
3am Convinence
Shadows
Do I Belong Here?
After Hours - NSFW MDNI
HTTYD
Why are you here?
Milan - NSFW MDNI
Club Owner - NSFW MDNI
Crimson Night - NSFW MDNI
Demon - NSFW MDNI
Friends To Lovers - NSFW MDNI
Cute Fluff
MAFIA 1 - NSFW MDNI
MAFIA 2 - NSFW MDNI
MAFIA 3 - NSFW MDNI
Vampire - NSFW MDNI
Fluff
Just Married - NSFW MDNI
Be Ready - NSFW MDNI
Tokyo Drift
Practice - NSFW MDNI
Professor? - NSFW MDNI
I didnt mean to - NSFW MDNI
Joker - NSFW MDNI
Mafia Boss - NSFW MDNI
Is this illegal? - NSFW MDNI
Hybrid - P1 - NSFW MDNI
Hybrid - P2 - NSFW MDNI
D&G - NSFW MDNI
shiber says... (link under construction)
──────────────────────S̷o̷n̷g̷ ̷M̷i̷n̷g̷i̷
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Laughter Sounds Better With You
Since When Was It A Competition
Jingle Bell Chaos
Boxers - NSFW MDNI
I dont bite much - NSFW MDNI
the beat that stayed (link under construction)
──────────────────────J̷u̷n̷g̷ ̷W̷o̷o̷y̷o̷u̷n̷g̷
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masterlist — the quiet that fits
pairing: yunho / mingi (yungi)
genre: hurt/comfort | slow burn | soft warnings: depictions of emotional exhaustion, masking, feelings of inadequacy, anxiety — all resolved gently
status: ongoing
✧ chapters ✧
01 — the smile that weighs a ton - yunho finally breaks under the pressure of always being the bright, reliable one — and mingi is the only one who sees the cracks. [↳ read here]
02 — learning to breathe in the dark - small quiet acts of care; yunho unlearning the need to perform, and finding safety in someone who doesn’t demand his light. [↳ read here]
03 — the kind of love that doesn’t demand light - old fears creep back; mingi shows him he is loved for all the quiet, tired parts of himself too. [↳ read here]
04 — silence that speaks louder - the rest of the group adjusts; yunho starts to remember who he is beneath the mask, and they take their first step forward together. [↳ read here]
𝒋𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐 𝒙 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊 ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦✦•······················•✦•······················•✦ warnings- fluff, comfort, hurt, yungi, something sickly sweet. this might end up as a mult-chapter... ✦•······················•✦•······················•✦✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
2. 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘬
They don’t put it into words the next morning. No grand speeches, no awkward glances, just a quiet understanding that settles between them like sunlight through soft curtains. When Yunho walks into the kitchen, Mingi is already there, sliding a warm mug of tea across the counter toward him without a word. It’s exactly how he takes it, extra honey, no sugar, steam curling slow against his palms.
“Thanks,” Yunho says, and his voice doesn’t shake.
Mingi just nods, leaning back against the fridge with his own drink. “Practice starts an hour later today. Hongjoong said we all need the extra rest.”
It’s a small thing, but Yunho feels it loosen something inside him. No one is demanding energy from him yet.
Even so, old habits cling tight. During warm-ups, he catches himself reaching for that easy, bright laugh when Yeosang teases him about tripping over his own feet. The sound comes out flat, hollow, and before he can force it brighter, he feels a gaze on him. He glances over; Mingi is watching, brow soft, and gives the faintest, almost imperceptible shake of his head. You don’t have to.
Yunho lets the smile fade into something smaller, truer, and nods back.
By mid-afternoon, the exhaustion creeps back in like a tide. His legs burn, his shoulders ache, and every time someone calls his name, he flinches just a little. When they break for dinner, he slips away to the rooftop alone, leaning against the cool metal railing as the sun dips low over the city. The air smells like rain and jasmine, and for a long time he just stands there, letting his shoulders drop an inch at a time.
He hears the door click open behind him, and doesn’t startle this time.
“Brought you some fruit,” Mingi says, setting a small bowl on the ledge beside him. “You barely ate lunch.”
Yunho picks up a slice of orange, fingers brushing the peel. “I don’t want them to think I’m slacking.”
“Slacking?” Mingi steps close enough that their sleeves brush, voice soft but firm.
“You’re the last one to leave every night. You run through every take twice. You carry everyone’s water bottles, you listen when everyone else is tired, you laugh even when you’re dead on your feet. That isn’t slacking, that’s burning yourself down to keep everyone else warm.”
The words sit heavy and true, and Yunho stares out over the lights flickering on below. “What if they only like me when I’m… like that? Loud. Happy. Useful.”
“Then they don’t know you,” Mingi says simply. “I know you when you’re quiet. When you’re sore. When you sit in the corner and watch everyone else because your chest feels too tight to speak. That’s the Yunho I want.”
He reaches out, slow as ever, and covers Yunho’s hand where it rests on the rail. His palm is warm, calloused at the fingertips from hours of practice, and Yunho turns his hand over to lace their fingers together. It feels like coming home.
That night, Yunho doesn’t lie awake staring at the ceiling. He falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow, and when he wakes once in the dark, his first thought isn’t what do I have to do tomorrow, it’s Mingi knows.
𝒋𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐 𝒙 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒊
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warnings- fluff, comfort, hurt, yungi, something sickly sweet.
this might end up as a mult-chapter...
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1. 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘴 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘯
It starts small, the way these things always do.
A split second too long between a joke and his laugh. Shoulders that stay hunched even when he’s supposed to be relaxed. Nights where he lies awake until three, staring at the ceiling, wondering how much longer he can keep being the one.
Everyone loves Yunho’s energy. They love his laugh, the way he leans into every hug, how he’s always the first to cheer when someone nails a move, the first to offer to carry the heavy bags, the first to say “it’s okay” when things go wrong. He’s the sunshine, the pillar, the one that never cracks.
No one asks what happens when the sun goes down.
By the end of their comeback schedule, it feels like he’s holding up the whole world with a single finger. Every practice runs late; every interview demands a bright answer, a wide grin, a playful quip. Every time someone says “Yunho, can you—?” he says yes before they finish. He says yes until his throat aches and his legs shake and his chest feels tight enough to crack.
At dinner that night, he laughs at something Wooyoung says and feels it splinter inside him. He excuses himself before anyone can see his hands shaking.
He thinks he’s alone in the living room, perched on the edge of the sofa, elbows on his knees, head in his hands, trying to breathe past the pressure building behind his ribs.
He doesn’t hear Mingi until the cushion dips beside him.
“Your drink went warm.”
Yunho flinches, then forces a smile that tastes like copper. “Just… zoning out.”
Mingi doesn’t smile back. He just looks, really looks, at him, eyes soft and knowing in the dim light. “You’ve been zoning out for weeks. You laugh so loud sometimes I think you’re trying to outrun yourself.”
The words land quiet and heavy, and something in Yunho gives way. He drops his face into his hands and lets out a breath that shakes so hard his shoulders follow. “I don’t know how to stop,” he whispers. “Everyone expects me to be happy. If I’m not… what am I even for?”
Mingi shifts closer, knees brushing his, and wraps an arm around his back slow, like he’s approaching something fragile. “You’re not here to be happy for everyone else. You’re just… here. With me.”
Yunho leans into him before he can stop himself, forehead pressing to Mingi’s shoulder, and cries, quiet, heaving sobs he’s held in for months. Mingi doesn’t rush him. Doesn’t tell him to cheer up. Just holds him, one hand rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades, the other tangled gentle in his hair.
“I notice,” Mingi murmurs against his hair. “When your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. When you skip meals so no one has to wait. When you sit quiet so no one has to ask you anything. I notice.”
Yunho’s voice is thick. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”
Mingi pulls back just enough to look him in the eye, thumb brushing a tear from his cheek. “You could never be that. You carry everyone else all the time. Let me carry you for a while.”
The dorm goes quiet only when the rest have fallen asleep.
But Hongjoong never does.
He’s perched on the kitchen counter, legs dangling, head bowed, hands shaking so bad he can barely grip the pen he’s been twisting between his fingers for an hour. The lamp above casts long, sharp shadows over his face, hollows under his eyes he can’t hide, the set of his jaw tight enough to ache, the way his shoulders hunch like he’s bracing for something that already happened. Crumpled lyric sheets litter the floor, crossed out until the paper tears, every line a scream he can’t let anyone hear.
He doesn’t startle when he hears the footsteps. He’d know that slow, deliberate rhythm anywhere...Seonghwa.
Moving like he knows exactly where every creak in the floorboards is, like he’s always careful not to break the things Hongjoong is already holding together.
Seonghwa doesn’t speak at first. He sets down the warm tea, the pain relief balm he’d grabbed from the medicine cabinet, and stands there for a long moment, just watching. His hair is still damp, falling over his sharp eyes, and he’s wearing that sweatshirt Hongjoong left behind months ago, faded, soft, smelling like him.
“You haven’t slept in forty-eight hours,” Seonghwa says, quiet but unflinching.
Hongjoong laughs, sharp and broken. “I don’t have time to sleep. If I stop, if I let go for even a second, everything falls apart. I know it does.”
His voice cracks on the last word, and suddenly he’s not the leader anymore. He’s just tired. So, impossibly tired.
Seonghwa steps closer, slow, like he’s approaching something fragile and skittish. “Let me see your shoulder.”
Hongjoong doesn’t argue. He lets Seonghwa pull his hoodie down just enough to reveal the dark bruising blooming across his shoulder blade, the knots so hard they feel like stone under pale skin. Seonghwa’s breath catches. His fingers brush the mark so gently it makes Hongjoong’s eyes burn.
“Who did this to you?” Seonghwa asks, low and rough, like he’s furious on his behalf.
“Nobody. Just… schedules. Pressure. Trying to be everything to everyone.”
Hongjoong’s voice wavers. “I’m scared, Seonghwa. That I’m not enough. That I’ll let all of you down.”
That’s when Seonghwa’s composure breaks. He steps between Hongjoong’s knees, hands coming up to cup his face, warm, firm, holding him like he’s the only thing that matters.
“Look at me,” he says, and Hongjoong does. And Seonghwa’s eyes are burning—with worry, with something deeper, something heavy and charged that’s been sitting there for years, unspoken. “You are enough. You are everything. And you don’t have to carry it all alone. Not ever.”
His thumbs brush away the tears Hongjoong hadn’t even realised had fallen. The touch is electric, every point of contact sending sparks down his spine, sharp and warm and terrifyingly right.
“You take everything,” Seonghwa whispers, forehead pressing to his, their breaths mixing. “You take every blow, every worry, every weight… and you never let me help. Why won’t you let me help?”
“Because if I lean on you…” Hongjoong chokes out, voice raw. “If I let you hold me… I’ll never be able to let go. And I can’t—we can’t—”
“Shh.” Seonghwa’s thumb rests over his lips, gentle but firm. “I’m not going anywhere. I haven’t left in seven years. I’m not starting now.”
Then he pulls Hongjoong forward, and Hongjoong goes, melts against him, arms winding tight around Seonghwa’s neck, burying his face in the crook of his shoulder. He sobs, quiet, broken things he’s been holding in for months, for years. And Seonghwa holds him back with a desperation that matches his own, hands fisting in the back of his hoodie, pressing him closer, like he’s trying to stitch Hongjoong’s broken pieces back together with nothing but his hands.
The air feels thick, charged, every touch, every breath, every beat of their hearts pressed together heavy with everything they’ve never said. Seonghwa’s lips brush the shell of his ear, soft and burning.
“I see you,” he murmurs, like a vow. “Not the leader. Not the captain. You. And I will stay. I will carry half. I will take every hurt you give me, as long as I get to be the one who holds you when you break.”
Hongjoong pulls back just enough to look at him, eyes glistening, chest heaving.
Seonghwa’s gaze drops to his lips, then back up, and the space between them feels like it’s on fire.
“Kiss me,” Hongjoong breathes, quiet and wrecked. “Please. Just… kiss me so I know I’m not dreaming.”
Seonghwa does.
It’s not soft or sweet at first. It’s hungry, and aching, and seven years of quiet devotion spilling over all at once. It’s Seonghwa kissing away every tear, every doubt, every “I’m not good enough”. It’s Hongjoong clinging to him like he’s the only solid thing in a world that keeps spinning too fast. It’s warm, and sharp, and so right it hurts.
Seonghwa’s hands slide down to his waist, fingers pressing firm into his sides, and Hongjoong gasps, parting for him instantly, letting him in, letting him take every part he’d guarded so fiercely for so long.
When they pull apart, breathless, Seonghwa rests his forehead against Hongjoong’s again, his hands still cupping his face like he’s something sacred.“I’ve got you,” he says, fierce and sure. “Every part of you. All the hurt. All the weight. It’s mine now too.”
Hongjoong laughs, shaky and wet, and leans his head against Seonghwa’s shoulder, letting himself be held, really held, for the first time in forever.
He feels Seonghwa press a kiss to the top of his head, slow and reverent, before pulling back just enough to reach for the balm on the counter. His fingers are steady now as he works it into Hongjoong’s shoulder, gentle, thorough, knowing exactly where it hurts most, exactly how much pressure to use to make the ache loosen its grip.
They don’t speak while he does it. The only sounds are the rain against the glass, the distant hum of the city, the quiet catch of Hongjoong’s breath when Seonghwa brushes a particularly tender spot.
When he’s done, Seonghwa tugs the hoodie back up, then wraps his arms around Hongjoong again, pulling him flush against his chest.
“Come to bed,” he says, soft but certain. “I’ll stay with you. I’ll wake you if you have nightmares. I’ll be right there.”
Hongjoong nods, slow, like he’s still learning how to say yes to being cared for.
He slides off the counter, but he doesn’t let go, his hand stays tangled tight in Seonghwa’s shirt, grounding himself there.
When they step into the hallway, the dark doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. The weight on his shoulders hasn’t vanished entirely, but it’s not just his to carry. Not anymore.
Seonghwa leads him slow, and Hongjoong follows. For the first time in longer than he can remember, he doesn’t feel like he has to lead at all.
𝕭𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉 𝖇𝖞 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 & 𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖘𝖊
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
WARNINGS: morally grey, possibly DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT?, dark themes, obsessive possession, power imbalance, dominant/submissive dynamics, consensual non-consent undertones, marking, blood play, and explicit sexual content. All interactions depicted are fully consensual within the narrative’s established bond. Please do not read if these themes will upset you.
⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Long before stages, before crowds, before anyone knew his name. Choi Jongho was the only thing that kept you alive.
When you were sixteen, you were targeted by a group that wanted to make an example of your family. They cornered you in an alley, and Jongho stepped between you and them without hesitation. He fought them all, outnumbered, outmatched , until his hands were split open, his ribs cracked, and blood ran down his throat. He didn’t stop until every last one of them was on the ground, and you were safe.
He carried you home that night, and you swore an oath on your knees, pressing your bleeding palm to his: My life for yours. My blood is yours. Whatever you want, whenever you want it, I will pay this debt. I belong to you.
As the years passed, that debt sat heavy between you. He watched you grow soft, watched you give pieces of yourself to people who would never bleed for you, never break bones to keep you whole. He told himself he was protecting you. But slowly, that quiet, burning devotion curdled into something far darker. He kept every scar, every word, every moment he’d laid awake wondering if you’d ever truly understand that you were never yours to give away.
A promise sealed in blood cannot be undone. And Choi Jongho has finally come to collect.
⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
The heavy iron lock clicks twice behind you, final, unyielding, something utterly certain.
You’d come because he’d called your name, and you’d sworn you would always answer. Now he stands before you, no stage smile, no soft performer’s charm, only the man who’d once shielded you from the world, now standing between you and every way out. His eyes are dark, burning with years of suppressed hunger and resolve, his broad frame blocking the light like a shadow made flesh.
“Do you remember what you swore?” His voice is low, rough, calm, but terrifyingly absolute. “Do you remember saying your blood, your life, all of it, belonged to me?”
He steps forward, slow and deliberate. You step back until your shoulders hit the solid wood of the door. He doesn’t rush. He’s waited ten years; he will not hurry now.
“I gave you everything,” he says, each word heavy as iron. “I took every wound, every fear, every burden so you could walk free. And you give yourself away like it means nothing. To strangers. To people who would let you break.”
One hand lifts, calloused fingers brushing along your jaw, firm, unyielding, his thumb stroking over your skin like he’s already marking what is his.
“A promise sealed in blood cannot be broken,” he growls, leaning in until his breath brushes your lips, fire in his voice. “And I have come to take what is mine.”
He kisses you then, not gentle, not asking. Lips moving fluidly against yours, his tongue swiping gently over your bottom lip. A silent command, the feeling making you let out a small, breathy gasp, he took this as an invitation…sliding his tongue into your mouth, tongue exploring and hands gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him.
It is a claim, a reckoning, the weight of every year and every oath crashing down all at once. His large calloused hands gripping your hips, fiercely, you let out a whimper at the feeling, you was sure his grip was going to leave bruises against your skin.
Jongho noticed, feeling your body tense under his touch, fighting the urges he knew you felt deep down. Your body shivered as he traced his hands softly up your sides, a stark contrast to the deep, dark that burned through his eyes. Jongho let out a small hum, his eyes raking over every inch of you.
His fingers dig in harder, and you gasp, half-shock, half-something hotter coiling tight in your bones. He sees it, and a dark, satisfied smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.
“Feel that?” he murmurs, pressing his forehead hard to yours, fingers dragging down to grip the back of your thigh, lifting you easily until your legs wrap around his waist. “Your body already knows. It remembers who it belongs to.”
He carries you like you weigh nothing…strong, unrelenting…and drops you onto the thick fur rug spread before the fire. The heat from the flames dances over his features, casting half his face in shadow, making his eyes look black and endless.
He doesn’t rush to touch you everywhere; instead, he pins your wrists to the rug above your head with one hand, his weight pressing you down, heavy and inescapable.
“You think you get to decide how this goes?” His voice drops lower, rough with restraint. “You swore yourself to me. That means I decide how much you take. I decide when you break. I decide when you’re mine… completely, utterly, with nothing left held back.”
He drags his free hand slowly down your throat, over your chest, pressing firm, possessive touches…fingers leaving trails of heat, pressure that will bloom into marks tomorrow. He bites your jawline, hard enough to make you gasp and arch into him, then soothes the spot with his tongue, cruel and gentle all at once.
“Beg me,” he growls against your skin, grip tightening on your wrists. “Beg me to make you remember your oath.”
You try to look away, try to hold the words back, the words clawing their way up your throat…eyes searching anywhere but him, but his grip on your wrists tightens, and his teeth graze the sensitive line of your throat, sharp and warning.
“Eyes on me,” he snaps, low and absolute. “I want to see the moment you stop lying to yourself. The moment you finally accept who owns every breath you take.”
Firelight glints in his dark gaze as he leans closer, his free hand sliding down to grip your jaw, forcing your face up so you have no choice but to meet him.
“Beg,” he repeats, slower this time…a growl that vibrates through every nerve in your body. “Beg me to claim what I am owed. Beg me until you believe it yourself.”
Your will cracks, just like it always did when he was the only one who stood between you and the dark.
“Please,” you breathe, shaky and raw. “Please, Jongho — take it. Take everything.”
A dark, satisfied sound rumbles deep in his chest, half-laugh, half-promise.
“Good,” he murmurs, releasing your wrists only to slide his hands down to grip your hips so hard you know the bruises will be there for days — marks no one else can miss, marks that scream you belong to him. “Finally. Now I’m going to make sure you never, ever forget.”
He leans over you, solid and heavy and inescapable, every line of his body coiled with the hunger he’s held back for ten years. His lips brush the shell of your ear, voice dropping to something dark and unyielding.
“Every mark. Every touch. Every breath you take from this moment on, it’s mine. Sealed in blood. Sealed in promise.”
He drags his thumb over your bottom lip, pressing firm until you part for him, his gaze burning into yours like he’s branding the sight of you into his soul.
“Every bruise,” he says, rough and deliberate, “will be a reminder. Every ache, every mark — proof that you belong to the one who bled for you. The one who owns you.”
His hands slide under your clothes, heavy and unapologetic, calloused palms mapping every curve like he’s staking claim to ground long abandoned. He pauses only to grip your hips harder, pressing you down into the fur rug until you gasp, the sound swallowed by the crackle of the fire.
“You think you can give pieces of yourself away?” he growls against your neck, teeth grazing the pulse point sharp enough to make you arch. “No. Every part of you… every sigh, every shiver, is mine to take, mine to use, mine to mark however I please.”
He shifts his weight, pinning you completely, one hand tangling hard in your hair to tilt your head back, exposing every inch of your throat to him. When he bites down, hard, claiming, you cry out, and he soothes the sting with his tongue, dark and possessive.
“Say it again,” he demands, voice thick with years of starving hunger. “Say you’re mine. Say you owe me everything.”
“I’m yours,” you sob out, every wall you ever built crumbling to ash. “All yours — take it all.”
A low, triumphant sound tears from his throat, and he presses his forehead to yours, sweat-slick and burning.
“Then I’ll take every last debt,” he swears, dark and absolute. “Until there is nothing left of you that isn’t mine.”
He yanks your shirt open with a sharp, tearing sound, no hesitation, no care for anything that isn’t laying claim to what is his. His gaze drops, dark and ravenous, and he leans down to drag his teeth along the curve of your collarbone, hard enough to leave a bloom of dark bruising instantly.
“Every inch,” he growls, hands gripping your thighs and forcing them wide, pressing his weight right between them so you can’t close them, can’t look away, can’t escape the heat rolling off him. “Every part of you is mine to mark, mine to use, mine to ruin however I see fit. You swore it. And I’m going to make you feel every second of it.”
He presses himself hard against you, and you can feel exactly how much he’s held back, every line of him rigid, burning, heavy with intent. One hand slides down to grip the soft skin of your inner thigh, fingers digging in so deep you know you’ll carry the shape of his touch for days.
“You’re already shaking for me,” he purrs, dark and cruel and satisfied, thumb brushing higher, closer to where you’re already aching for him. “You’ve always belonged to this. To me. No one else gets to touch you like this. No one else gets to see you fall apart this way.”
He bites down on the swell of your chest, and you cry out, your hands scrabbling against his shoulders, only for him to pin them back above your head again, pressing his hips harder against you, making you feel every hard, demanding inch of him.
“Beg for it properly,” he snarls, eyes black and burning. “Beg me to fill you up, beg me to make you mine in every way possible. Beg for the debt to be paid.”
You let yourself go, the intense wave of pleasure surging through your body causing you to well up, tears burning in your eyes as they fell, streaking your face. You choked on the words, a strangled garble falling from your lips, hips arching against him. “J-jongho… please” the words came out pathetically, heat raging its torment against you.
Jongho smirked, a wicked smile, eyes glistening from the glow of the room. You moaned loudly as he moved with ease, stripping himself bare of the constraints of his clothes, kicking the material away and leaning down again, his broad body towering over you again.
His knee pressing between your legs as he leant down, biting down into your neck, teeth sharp against the skin, a slight tinge of iron hitting his tongue as he soothed the wound he inflicted. The coppery taste making his eyes roll back, his sadistic smirk grazing his face as he looked at you, his hand tracing down your body as he cupped you, his fingers curling into your folds as he moved them fluidly, an agonizing pace.
Your body writhing against his touch, he tutted, shaking his head as he watched your body begging for him. “Look at you, such a pretty little thing aren’t you” he purred, the words causing another wave of arousal to pool between your legs, coating his fingers in your juices.
He let out a deep groan, his eyes fluttering shut as he lifted his fingers to his mouth, sucking your arousal from them. “Mmm…so fucking sweet” he purred, not wasting anytime and gripping his throbbing, aching member and stroking the length.
Your eyes wandered, taking in every single inch of him, your hands reaching to touch him. He noticed, shaking his head and gripping your throat with one hand, pinning you to the floor as he lined himself against your entrance. With a moan he slid into you, your dripping core fluttering around him as he pushed in, making you take him inch by inch. The pressure against your throat making your eyes roll back.
“Good girl~..taking daddy so well” he purred. The words thick with lust as he smirked, squeezing your throat as he gripped your hip with his other hand, tight. Moving his hips deeply, the pace was maddening, fire burning inside you, spreading through your veins as he fucked into you, deep, long agonizing thrusts.
Years of pent up desire coiling between you both as you worked against each other, moulding together as fate intended, sealing the promise made years ago.
Leaning down to whisper in your ear. His breath hot against your skin, eyes fluttering shut as he never stopped curling his length into you, bringing the familiar tightness to course through you. You felt it, the tightening of the coil inside you, threatening to snap at any moment.
Noticing the way your body tensed, goosebumps rising along your skin and both of you covered in a thin sheen of sweat, breathless, only the sounds of your combined bodies being heard, wet skin slapping against each other.
Jongho smirked again, his hand coming to caress your sensitive bud, his finger circling with precision as his other hand gripped your neck, enough to cause your mind to swim, eyes fluttering shut a fresh stream of tears leaving your overstimulated body, flowing freely down your cheeks. Jongho moaned lowly, his body tensing hard at the sight and feeling of your core clenching around him, with a deep thrust he spilled inside you, causing your body to uncoil uncontrollably. With a strangled sob you came undone, the mixture of your releases spreading between you both, coating his length and fingers.
He moaned, lifting his fingers to his mouth, sliding the digits into his mouth as he smiled. “Such a sweet, little plaything aren’t you? All mine to use” he purred, sliding out of you and moving your frame, laying your exhausted and spent body onto his chest. Reaching over to grab the blanket from the chair that was near the fireplace. Wrapping the soft fur around your body.
For a long while there is only the crackle of fire, the heavy thud of his heart beneath your palm, and the quiet, absolute weight of what you’ve done.
With a single kiss to your head, he smiled to himself, low and dark and sure. “Forever, my love.”
“Sealed in blood,” he murmured against your skin, holding you tighter than he ever has, every mark, every breath, every beat of your heart now his alone. “Bound by promise.”
anyone have any ideas, request you'd like me to write, I have jongho smut in the works as we speak but I'd like to know what you think I should do next🖤
would you leave a message or drop it into my ask box?
𝔧𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ WARNING: Dark themes, graphic violence, blood consumption, predatory obsession, vampire lore, dom/sub dynamics, bondage, biting, marking, explicit kink and mature content. 18+ only. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
𝔒𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔜𝔬𝔲
“Tell me you want this,” he whispers, blood and smoke and eternity in his voice. “Tell me you want to be mine forever.”
You gasped, the words clawing their way through your throat before you could capture them to swallow them down. “W-wooyoung…” The words felt like honey falling from your lips...a sweetness Wooyoung noticed instantly, his eyes darkening, a faint crimson glint raking over your body. He lifted his hand, wrapping his fingers firm and sure around your throat, pressing just enough to make your pulse hammer wild and fast against his palm, feeling exactly how your body lit up for him and him alone.
“Say it again… nice and slow,” he growls low against your ear, his cool breath fanning sharp over your skin.
You let out a strangled whimper as he holds just the right amount of pressure, enough to make your head swim, enough to force your eyes to flutter shut, pleasure sparking hot and sharp right through your core. When he tilts your chin back up, his deep crimson gaze pins you in place, hungry and waiting.
“Y-yours… I’m all yours… W-wooyoung please…” The words fall shivering from your lips, heat pooling heavy and slick between your legs the moment you speak. His hand slides slow from your throat only to curl tight around the collar of your shirt; one sharp, brutal tug and the fabric rips clean away, baring your skin to the cool air and his burning, unblinking stare.
You shiver, goosebumps rising fast over every curve as he drags his sharp, cool nails slow down your body, tracing stinging, beautiful lines over your shoulders, down your spine, over the swell of your breasts, pinching just hard enough to make you gasp and arch, leaving faint red tracks that will bloom dark bruises later. He hooks his fingers into your shorts next, yanking them down and off in one rough motion, leaving you only in thin cotton panties already soaked almost transparent with how badly you want him. He lets out a low, guttural moan at the sight—his fangs throbbing, his own hunger coiling tighter and hotter than it ever has for anyone else. He steps back just a pace, drinking you in completely, admiring every tremor, every flush, every part of you already laid bare and helpless for him.
Usually he would never linger this long. Pleas, cries, fear, they only ever bored him, annoyed him, made him want to end things fast and feed. But this is different. This is you. Something warm and alive and ancient ignites deep in his chest, a fire he thought died centuries ago. He will not rush this. He will savour every second, every sound, every mark he leaves on you.
He moves fluidly, stripping his own clothes away, and you whimper loud when his bare form comes into view, pale, lean, hard, every line sharp and glowing in the candlelight. He smirks, wrapping one hand around his throbbing length, stroking slow and heavy right where you can see, precome glistening on his fingertips as he eases the ache only you can cure.
You watch him, transfixed, another gush of slick soaking your thighs, you know he can smell it, taste it, feel it thrumming through your shared bond. You yank soft against the crimson rope binding your wrists high above you, the friction burning delicious, the slight pull on your arms making you feel entirely held, entirely owned.
He stalks closer again, his free hand coming up to grip your hips so tight his fingers dig deep, his ice-cold skin searing like fire wherever it touches. You gasp and writhe, your breasts brushing his chest, every movement only winding you tighter.
Wooyoung smirks, wild, wicked, utterly devoted. “So perfect when you’re tied up just for me,” he purrs, his hands dragging slow, teasing paths over your skin, nails dragging just sharp enough to make you jolt and whine. “But you don’t get to cum yet. Beg properly. Show me exactly how desperate you are for me.”
“W-wooyoung…” you whine, his name falling broken and sweet from your lips, drawing a low, rumbling groan from deep in his chest.
“Mmm… music to my ears,” he murmurs, tilting his head as his fingers drift lower, tracing feather-light over your soaked cotton, pressing just enough to make your hips buck wildly. Tears prick your eyes as pleasure and need twist tight and relentless in your gut.
“Please… I need you… I need it so bad…”
His hand cups you fully then, pressing firm against your heat, his fingers rubbing slow, cruel circles right over your clit through the fabric. “Look at you… absolutely dripping for me aren’t you, little one~” he growls, hooking his fingers into the cotton and ripping your panties away in one sharp tug, the sound echoing loud through the quiet room. “This pretty pussy is leaking all over my hand… and it’s all mine.”
He drags his fingers slow through your folds, gathering your wetness before circling your sensitive bud with agonising precision, making your back arch so hard you pull against the ropes. “There you go… scream for me,” he purrs, leaning in to drag his fangs light over your throat, grazing the skin just enough to sting and make you shatter. “Let me hear every single sound you make.”
He presses one cool, thick finger deep inside you, curling it slow against that perfect spot before adding a second, stretching you open while his thumb works fast, relentless circles over your clit. He bites down soft on your shoulder, just hard enough to leave a throbbing mark, then licks the faint sting away, his other hand coming up to grip your jaw and force you to look right at him.
“See how well you take my fingers already?” he whispers, voice dark and wrecked. “And I haven’t even given you what you really crave yet.”
He twists his fingers deep inside you, curling them over that sensitive spot over and over, making you sob out his name, your body jerking hard against the rope bindings. He doesn’t let up, stroking faster, pressing harder, his thumb working relentless circles on your clit while his other hand skates up to grip your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze.
“Beg for it,” he snarls against your lips, fangs grazing your lower lip until you taste copper. “Beg me to fill you up and claim you once and for all.”
“Please...Wooyoung...please fuck me, please...” you sob, hips bucking wildly on nothing but his hand. “I need you inside me...please...make me yours...”
That’s all he needs.
He pulls his fingers out with a slick drag, bringing his fingers to his lips, smearing your essence along his lips, sliding his slender fingers into his mouth, tongue swirling around the digits as he let out a hum of approval. "So sweet..." he purred.
Before you could react, he slid his hand down gripping his length with his hand, menouvering your body with ease and lines himself up and pushes inside you in one slow, heavy stroke that makes you cry out loud enough to shake the walls.
He fills you completely, stretching you, claiming every inch, so deep you can feel him in your throat. He pauses for a heartbeat, letting you adjust, letting you feel exactly how much of him you’ve taken, before he sets a brutal, unyielding pace, hard, deep, snapping his hips against yours so hard the air leaves your lungs every time.
“God, you feel perfect,” he groans, burying his face in your neck, biting down just hard enough to make you jolt and clamp tight around him. “So tight… so warm… all mine.”
He fucks you like he’s starving, like he’s trying to merge your bodies the way your souls are already tied. One hand stays clamped around your throat, light pressure making your head spin and every spark of pleasure burn brighter; the other slides down to grip your hip, dragging you onto every thrust. He bites marks into your throat, your shoulder, your chest, sucking bruises that will stay dark for days, branding you his. He licks over them, tasting the salt of your sweat, the faint tang of blood where he broke the skin, and growls low in his throat like he’s feeding on your pleasure as much as your blood.
When you start to tighten around him, he pulls back just enough to look you in the eye, his gaze burning, wild, utterly obsessed.
“Cum for me,” he orders, voice rough and absolute. “Cum all over my cock and show me who you belong to.”
He presses his thumb back to your clit, matching the rhythm of his thrusts perfectly, and that’s all it takes, you shatter around him with a scream of his name, vision blurring, your whole body trembling so hard the ropes creak. He chases you right over the edge, driving into you one last time with a guttural roar, spilling deep inside you, holding you so tight you can barely breathe, biting down soft on your pulse point right as you both crest.
He doesn’t pull away. He stays buried deep, rolling slow, heavy strokes through your aftershocks, kissing you deep and messy, tasting your cries and your sighs. He loosens the ropes at last, rubbing life back into your wrists before pulling you flush against him, cold skin burning against yours.
“Mine,” he murmurs against your skin, over and over, like a prayer and a vow all in one. “Only ever mine. And I will never let you go.”
Summary: Wooyoung’s been watching Yunho all night. How he walked into a space and it lit up instantly. How every where he went, laughter would follow.
Truth is, it wasn’t just this night. He’s been watching for a while. Every step , every breath, how he casually brushed his fingers through his hair—pure perfection. Tonight…tonight he couldn’t help but want him all to hisself. 4,742 word
The gala lights had barely dimmed when Wooyoung walked in and saw him. Yunho, laughing softly with Mingi and San. Tux open low enough to expose the stretch of his neck and beautiful pale skin. Every movement showed how his beautiful collar bones glistened in the light. This was Wooyoung’s favorite look from him. That effortless look that pretended to be innocent, but wasn't.
The hall was filled with the rest of the members, producers and other guests that they worked with in the past. As full as the space may have been, Wooyoung spotted him immediately. How could he not. Those beautiful slim legs stood out everywhere he went. And that bubbly aura, perfection.
Wooyoung didn’t bother going over. He was taking photos and didn’t want to interrupt. Yunho handed his phone to Mingi, And his immediate shift into character was mesmerizing. San and Mingi quickly gave approving nods as he was posing for the first few photos. Yunho glanced at his phone, nodded and handed the phone back to Mingi. This time he changed his posing. He slipped into character again so seamlessly, it was hard to tell when the act began. He draped his hands up to his chest, fingertips brush the edge of his neck, turning slightly to the side. Expression softening into something so pure, so innocent, it was impossible not to want.
But just as innocent as he appeared, someone was fantasizing about destroying that face, those plump lips that pouted at every picture like they wanted teeth sank into them, that neck—that neck was meant to be strangled and just as his last breath left his body, a relieving exhale would exit those beautifully bruised lips. And those hands, the way he knew how to delicately place them, where all you could imagine was destroying them.
Wooyoung imagined all of this.
What if I tied him up. What he made that same exact face for me. What if— “Would you like a glass sir?” Wooyoung stared intently at him, never lifting his gaze as he accepted his glass of champagne .
A waiter made his way over to Yunho, Mingi and San with glasses of champagne. Mingi and San reached for theirs first. Nothing out of the ordinary. The glass Yunho chose was fuller than the rest, so when he reached for it some spilled slightly on his fingers.
Instead of him grabbing a napkin and wiping his hands, he placed his thumb in his mouth a dragged it out slowly, sucking the tip just to get the champagne off.
Wooyoung’s throat bobbed.
Then he placed his second finger in, and just before pulling it out insufferably slow, he peered up at Wooyoung.
Whether it was intentional or not…who knows.
But Wooyoung couldn't look away. He knew he should’ve. He could barely keep it together that night. Though his face was unmoved, he casually yanked at his pants, trying to conceal his hard on.
And just as the last finger left his lips, his eyes met Wooyoung’s and he smiled, lifting his hand in that effortless way that drove him crazy, Like he did it on purpose.
Wooyoung’s hands had been trembling ever since. He told himself it was the champagne, the crowd, the flashing cameras. But now, hours later, the only sound in the hotel suite was the hum of the air conditioner and Yunho’s slow, even breathing from the bed.
—
Yunho’s eyes were clouded and as he went to sit up, he felt drowsy and confused. His mouth was stuffed with cloth.When he reached his hand over to remove it, he was brought to and abrupt stop, as he couldn’t move his arms and legs. He looked over—his wrist and legs was tied. Bright red cordage intertwined between his wrist then wrapped around the bed post. Same with his legs. It was wrapped so delicately, so beautifully, he almost couldn’t be upset.
He look down at his body, his eyes was still glossy but his vision was slowly coming back. He was completely undressed except for the white button down shirt he wore under his tux and a choker which seem to be pulled tighter that he could barely swallow.
Immediate panic seeped through his veins. He lifted his head and looked around. A hotel room. Thats it. He didn’t see anybody. He started yanking his wrist and ankles until they turned red. All he could do was make muffled sounds and keep pulling. Pain burning through his wrist, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. After a few minutes, he heard footsteps approaching from the next room.
The room was dimly lit except above the bed he was tied to. All he could see was a tall slender figure wearing all black carrying a glass of water.
As he walked to the bed Yunho’s pace began to quicken and the figure became more recognizable the closer he came in the Light.
Wooyoung.
Yunho started mumbling. “Mmm. Mmm.”
Maybe he was pleading to be let go. Of course he was. His eyes told Wooyoung everything. He was confused what was going on but all Wooyoung could see was beauty slowly cracking.
He made this face once. They were filming a video where they were trapped in a room with spiders and Yunho had to stay in there for three minutes but before he could make it to that time frame, he used the safe word and the producers let him out. But staring at the monitors from the other side, was Wooyoung, sitting with his legs wide open, slightly aroused, tugging at his pants to make space for how hard he was. He wanted to see that face again. He needed it. He ached for it.
Now in an empty hotel room, with no one to the right or left of them because he made sure to book those rooms too, Yunho was making that face again. That face that made Wooyoung’s body hot and his dick rock hard. He leaned in and whispered in his ears, “I’m gonna remove the gag, don’t scream.” His voice was calm—too calm for the situation.
But Yunho wasn’t listening so when he removed the gag he screamed. “Ahh…HELP!…Mingi…San—mmph.”
Wooyoung covered his mouth.
But he still tried to yell. Muffled sounds escaped through Wooyoung’s fingers as he wiggled and squirmed for help. He bit down hard on Wooyoung’s fingers, but it was no use. Yeah it hurt, but that only aroused him more.
Wooyoung smiled. A scary shit eating grin, like watching him squirm and afraid for his life the was the whole point.
Chills ran down Yunho’s spine. He stiffened up and stop resisting.
Wooyoung reacted in kind. “You need to drink some water so you’re not dehydrated.”
Yunho nodded, eyes softened with vulnerability. Like he’d do anything to be free. This was perfect. He removed his finger from his mouth and Yunho could help but plead. “Wooyoung, why are you doing this? let me go, please—.”
Wooyoung placed the cup to his lips. “Drink.”
But before Yunho could take a sip , Wooyoung was already pouring water into his mouth.
It wasn’t much but he started choking. Facing turning bright red as he tried to catch his breath.
Wooyoung brows furrowed he was getting impatient. But it wasn’t time. He still was waiting for his last call of the day. It was Hongjoong . He always called to make sure everyone made it home safe. He placed the gag back in his mouth, leaned in and whispered, “Behave for me tonight. Okay?” Then walked into the other room.
Once the door shut, Yunho attempted to pull free, but it was no use. He yanked and pulled until he felt drowsy again. And against his will, fell back to sleep.
Wooyoung watch him from the other room. He told himself he was doing the right thing. That Yunho wanted him too. The way he would always peer over to see if he was looking. He wants this.
—
The sound of the clock was ticking . An hour or so passed and Yunho was finally awake. He pretended to be sleep as he slightly overheard Wooyoung’s phone call.
“Yea, he's staying with me, but he’s sleep already.”
The door opened.
Wooyoung was happy. He finally had him to himself. Although his smile wasn’t visible his eyes was brimming with excitement.
He sat at the edge of the bed studying Yuhno’s elegant features. It almost hurt to look at him. So calm, so unaware. Too beautiful to survive untouched.
He reached over and gently placed the cup to his lips. A gentleness that didn’t belong in a room like this.“Don't scream. ”
Yunho nodded.
Wooyoung removed the gag and placed the cup to his lips.
He drank it.
Some of the water trickled down the side of his mouth.
Slowly, meticulously, Wooyoung wiped it with his fingers then sucked it off. He searched his wrist, they were red with burns and slightly bleeding. He struggled so much. It resonated with him in a soft, aching way. He leaned in and kissed his wrist. He was going to destroy them even more.
“What are you you doing—“
Now Wooyoung was licking the only exposed part of his arm that wasn’t covered by his shirt.
“Be good for me please and I’ll let you go.”
Yunho didn’t respond. His eyes burned with confusion as he watch Wooyoung climb on top of him. His first reaction was to push him off but the binds yanked his arms back.
“You don’t feel drowsy anymore? Right?”
Yunho didn't respond.
“I just wanted you all to my self tonight.” Wooyoung pleaded as he pressed his lips into his exposed collar bone. “Will you let me?”
Yunho still couldn’t speak. He knew he didn’t have many options. Hongjoong knew they were together, so if he could just make it to morning…
Wooyoung dragged his tongue across his neck. Tasting his skin, he almost lost it. He sank his teeth into his collarbone. He tasted so sweet. So pure. He couldn't help but bite him again. This time it broke skin.
Yunho hissed but there wasn't nothing more he could do.
Wooyoung looked up. Fear taking over any existence on purity in Yunhos’s face.
“Please let me go. Just take the binds off. I’ll do whatever.”
But it was a lie, Wooyoung knew, Yunho knew he knew.
He didn’t care. He finally got the chance to destroy something so perfectly made. It wasn’t like he wanted to. He couldn’t help it. He was too inviting. So naive, acting like he didn’t know what he doing.
Wooyoung sank his teeth in again. This time Yunho’s response was to bite back any sound coming out. He bit his bottom lip as Wooyoung consistently placed bite marks over his chest, breaking the skin every time. He moved down to his nipples and Yunho accidentally let a moan slip.
“Ahhh…mmf.”
Wooyoung’s only response to this was to grip his waist. And continue to suck. His fingers sank into his ribcage as he tightened his grip around his slender waist. Thumbs pressing in so deep and so hard that, when he moved his hands lower, you could see finger marks.
Yunho squirmed underneath him. Wave after wave of warmth flooded his body. He tried to hold back his arousal but he was getting harder since. Every time he resisted and squirmed, his cock rubbed up against Wooyoung’s stomach.
Wooyoung felt it too.
The harder he got. The harder he sucked.
Pleasure soon shifting into pain as he continued to over suck his nipples raw.
“Stop…Stop. Please it hurts too much. Please.”
Yunho pleaded. Now on the verge of tears.
Wooyoung came up to his face. His eyes swirling with lust. All he wanted to do in that moment, was shove his dick is his mouth until more tears ran down his face, until he choked on his come. But he didn’t. Not yet. He wanted to slowly break him. Slowly watch him crack. “Don’t cry, I’ll make you feel good too.”
Yunho snapped.
“Are you crazy? Untie me.”
His anger was so breakable, Wooyoung thought.
But Yunho didn’t let up. “Your a psycho. Let me go. Let me—“
Yunho voice was cut off but not because Wooyoung covered his mouth, but because he took that long beautiful neck, covered in bite marks and placed it in his hands.
“What are you...” Yunho let out a choked sound.
Wooyoung gripped tighter. Thumbs sinking into Yunhos vocal chords. Cutting off all oxygen.
“You…looked at me.” Wooyoung spat.
Yunho froze in fear. Unable to catch his breath. Too scared to panic because his grip would tighten. The buckle to the chocker sank deeper into his skin, but all he could do was freeze.
“I just want you for tonight. Can I have that?”
Out of fear, Yunho nodded.
“Are you going to behave?”
He was on his last breath, eyes leaking but he nodded again.
Wooyoung stared, trying to savor the fear in his eyes. But also to see if he was lying. His dick got harder as Yunhos eyes teared and started to roll in the back of his head.
“Okay.” He leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips before letting go.
His lips were still pressed to the others when he took his first inhale, breathing the same air as him. Wooyoung took this as how much he needed him. He watched his eyes flutter open, still dazed, still trembling as he tried to catch his breath. God, he was so beautiful like this. If he only knew.
Wooyoung’s hands slid into his pants to pull out his cock. Stroking it before pressing it against Yunhos beautiful plump lips, smearing pre-come around them. He should’ve destroyed them before this.
He gripped his chin, “Open.”
Yunho shook his head and pressed his lips together.
“You must know—I like when you resist,” Wooyoung whispered as he slid his hand down to his neck that held fresh hand prints.
His mouth opened just as quickly as Wooyoung slid his dick in. He pressed in deep.
Yunho choked.
Wooyoung didn’t thrust right away. He kept still. Buried in him like he was starved for warmth. He felt everything. His tongue, the back of his throat opening and closing around him, those teeth that so desperately wanted to bite down on him.
He pushed in deeper. “Ahh…shit.”
Watching Yunho gasp for air, eyes glassy and wet was so intoxicating. Wooyoung could come right here and now.
He started moving slow at first. Sliding in out— watching how Yunhos mouth gripped around him. How wet he was making his cock. He couldn’t rush this. How could he? He finally got to see such pathetic beauty.
Tears trailed down Yunhos face only causing Wooyoung to slam in harder. Thrusting so fervently he almost lost himself. He wanted to come so deep in his throat that he choked, begging for him to stop. And when he looked down and saw he was getting exactly what he hoped for, he gripped Yunho’s face tighter. Thrusting through every tremor his body made.
Wooyoung wanted more though. He leaned down and whispered, “Open wider,”
He didn’t. But that didn’t matter to Wooyoung.
He gripped the headboard and slammed in Yunhos mouth so violently. Chills built in the pit of his stomach every time he looked down and Yunho was still there. His finger dug into the headboard. He desperately wanted to come, he wanted to break him while coming. Crack his skull and watch him bleed, than used the blood as lube and fuck him. Over and over. He needed it so bad he could cry.
Wooyoung vision blurred and confusion in his mind rose just as fast as his orgasm. He thrusted harder until he couldn’t hold back anymore.
Damn…haa…why did i wait so long for this?” Wooyoung muttered as hot come shot to back of Yunhos throat.
His legs shook and trembling as come continued shoot from his cock and he continued to rock in and out his mouth. He refused to pull out. Yunho was choking on his come and it was better than he’d ever imagined
Slowly extracting his dick from Yunhos mouth, he wiped the remaining fluids again his top lip, then pressed his lips against his. He kissed him slow at first—remembering the pepero game and how close they came to kissing. He fantasized about this moment—how he would sink his teeth in his lips. He pressed his tongue in. Swirling it around. Learning the inside of his mouth.
Yunho didn’t kiss him back. His body trembled in fear. As he try to avoid the tingling sensation every time Wooyoung slid his tongue against his.
Wooyoung didn't let up. Even with the left over taste of his own come. He bit down on Yunho’s bottom lip.
Yunhos body trembled.
He sank his teeth harder, breaking the skin. Sucking hard as his bruised lips bled. But it still wasn't enough.
Wooyoung wondered, how could he break him and still have him? His mind ached in confusion. He could feel his morality bending, twisting into something he shouldn’t want, but he couldn’t stop. All he could do was kiss down this beautifully bruised torso.
He kissed down his body, nipping and sucking anywhere he please. He kissed his belly button. The lower. Down to his hip line. Dragging his tongue up and around his cock.
He was half hard. Yunho hated he couldn’t control his body. Hated that those soft kisses down his body felt too genuine. Hated that being choked until his last breath left him slightly aroused. He felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach, as Wooyoung’s mouth trailed up and down his cock. Fuck
Wooyoung felt every twitch. How his cock got harder the closer he came to orgasming. He placed his hands around his cock with a firm grip and moved at a steady pace. Gripping, twisting and slurping until he felt Yunhos body stiffen. He was close.
Yunho tucked his in his shoulder unable to stifle any moans. Stupid. Stupid body. “Ahh…”
Warm sticky liquids seeped into Wooyoung’s mouth, as he felt tremor after tremor run down Yunhos legs. He didn’t care though. He continued to suck him through it. He wanted every part of him.
Wooyoung looked up at Yunho, his face was still tucked into his neck. He move closer cupping his face. The face again. The one in the picture he posed for at the gala. He doesn’t even know what he's doing. Such breakable features.
Wooyoung went to untie one hand. “ If you behave I’ll untie more.”
Yunho eyes widened as he nodded. That was all the hope he needed.
Wooyoung looked at how happy he was to have one hand untied and it make his dick throb. He took his pants and underwear off before climbing back in the bed. He leaned in and pressed gentle kiss on Yunho’s mouth, then without notice, he pressed two fingers in his mouth. Chills ran down his spine as he moved around Yunho’s mouth. Pressing his tongue down, rubbing the roof then pushing his fingers further back. Yunho nearly choked.
He looked up at wooyoung, eyes pleading for his life but also pleading for him to go deeper, he just didn’t know.
Wooyoung did. He shoved them further in until all his knuckles was in him. Yunho choked and coughed, making his eyes water. Drool spilled down his chin as Wooyoung pulled his soaked fingers out his mouth and brought it to his own ass. He kissed the side of Yunho mouth then thanked him before placing both fingers to his entrance.
Circling them around to get it nice and wet. He started with one finger tip barely pushing in slowly before he placed the next one in. He pushed in to the first set of knuckles before letting out a deep moan. “mmh.”
Yunho stared in shock. As he pushed his fingers in deeper.
“Mnf— “ Wooyoung let out another moan as he teased his own hole, trying to loosen it. He circled first then a scissor motion until his fingers was fully in.
He grabbed shocked Yunhos free hand and placed them to his lips. His hands were Wooyoung’s favorite. How slender they were, that you could easily see the veins. How he always placed them delicately in photos. How he constantly flaunted them. He wanted to know what they taste like. He took the three middle fingers and shoved them in his mouth. He sucked and licked and nibbled, while simultaneously finger fucking himself.
But it wasn’t enough.
He need them deeper inside him. He wanted to sink his teeth in them, but this had to be enough. He bit down hard before pulling Yunhos slicked hands out his mouth.
Now, Yunho still in utter shock, Dick half hard from the arousal of Wooyoung sucking his fingers, though he refused to acknowledge that, just laid there. Watching Wooyoung, off to the side of him, sit over his hand and placed three of his fingers in his ass.
Wooyoung felt every curve, every vein of his fingers as they slid into him. Wooyoung gripped his wrist and rocked on his fingers. Slowly at first. Moaning between each grind.
“haa…mnf…” he weeped “Yunho…mmm…your fingers…mnf…they feel so good.”
Yunho looked away. Heat and shame twisted low in his gut.
Wooyoung picked up the pace rolling his hips, gasping for release. His hole tightened around Yunhos hand but he needed more. He reached down and started stroking himself while continued to ride his fingers. Only needing to stroke his dick a few times before his orgasm built.
He looked down At Yunho. Wooyoung growled low as he orgasm built. “Look at me.”
He don't know why, but he did. He looked at him.
His obedience wasn't just arousing; it was ruinous. It made it harder to hold back.Wooyoung gripped Yunhos free wrist, buried his fingers in deep, and rode as hard as he could. Constantly crashing into that spot. Stroking his cock to match the pace. Over and over until his control slipped.
“Ahh…im gonna come…”
He stroked himself a few more times before he angled himself so he came directly on Yunhos face.
Yunho stared blankly, silently, as warm liquids slid slowly down the side of his face.
Wooyoung stared at him. Fingers still in his ass. It’s not enough. He took two fingers and spread the come across his cheek until it reached his mouth. He shoved his fingers in deep causing him to gag. Yunho’s eyes watered as he tried to swallow but couldn’t. Despite dissatisfaction, Wooyoung eventually pulled his fingers out his mouth.
Yunhos was gasping for air, “Wooyoung…”
But he couldn’t say anymore than that.
Wooyoung reached over for the gag and he panicked. “No…please don't—” but it was too late. He shoved the gag in his mouth, climbed off the bed and sat in the corner of the room.
—
The chair sat facing the bed. It was in the corner of the room the was the darkest. From where Yunho was all you could see was the pale of his legs and the gold of a freshly lit cigarette. Wooyoung, just in a black dress shirt half buttoned, watched as Yunho tried to pull free. Watched as he yanked and yanked. As he looked over, pleading. Muffled screams continuously breaking through the gag.
He struggled for the length of his cigarette, fighting until the last flick of ash. Then he went still. Wooyoung glanced over and the silence was filled with broken sniffles. Streams of tears ran down his face, he couldn’t stop them.
But he shouldn’t have done that.
Wooyoung stood up, walking slowly to Yunho. He needed to see for himself. He wanted to see exactly how he looked being broken apart. The closer he got to the bed the more fear rose in Yunho. He turned his face away.
Wooyoung stood over him. Watching as he weeped. He gripped Yunhos chin so he would face him.
Yunho struggled but he couldn’t resist his strength.
Wooyoung voice too calm, “Look at me.”
He refused. Still trying to pull away. Eyes closed tight.
Wooyoung took the still lit cigarette and pressed it into his thigh. He struggled between wanting to see his weeping eyes and the burn break through his skin.
Yunho eyes flew open as he struggled through the pain. “Mmf…mmf.”
Wooyoung leaned in and kissed around his gagged mouth. Staring at this pale body. Blooming with bruises. His only thought,
It isn’t not enough.
—
The next two days were the same. Wooyoung would get up, feed and bathe Yunho before completely tarnishing his body. Constantly using him as he pleased. His mind was a muddled mess. He wanted to let him go but he couldn’t. Every part of him was covered in bites and bruises with no pale skin in sight. He watched that battered body…why…why isn't this enough?
Yunho soon gotten used to the repetition. He tried to convince himself he'd let him go soon, that everything would work out, until he overheard another call.
“Yea, he’s still not feeing well and I don't anyone to get sick.”
Oh,So thats why Hongjoong didn’t come for me.
His eyes watered. How much longer was he going to have to endure this. Why didn’t someone check on me. His heart ached as he shed tears. Only to cry himself to sleep.
—
The next day:
Yunho woke up to excruciating amount of pain and the sound of Wooyoung moaning. Red—everywhere. Panic clawing up his throat. “Wooyoung…” He went to speak but no words came out.
Wooyoung sat atop of him, eyes swirling with intensity. Blood dripped from his mouth, down to his chin then down his chest. Yunho’s stomach turned. He couldn’t tell whose blood it was.
Wooyoung looked euphoric dragging blood slick fingers to his lips, moaning as he tasted it. He held something in his hand, holding it like it was something sacred. With a faint hum, he smeared more blood on it and pressed it against his hole.
Yunho’s heart sank. He knew what it was. He looked over—his wrist was still tied. Relief, than panic rose. He tucked his head in his shoulder. He couldn’t look. He already felt its absence, he just refused to admit it.
Wooyoung rocked on his dismembered hand like it was nothing. Like he hadn’t just ripped it from Yunhos body. He smeared blood on cock then started stroking himself. This was perfect. And every now and again, he’d look at Yunho who was stunned into silence. His vision got blurry as his orgasm built. Watching those glossy eyes, pleading for anyone to come save him, he looked so precious. He’s lucky he even let him keep those eyes. He looked around at the bed, and at the bloody mess Yunho made, and his orgasm reached its climax.
He centered hisself above Yunho, and through labored breathing, he came directly on his face. But before Yunho could really process what was happening, he passes out
Now:
“Yunho, Yunho…wake up.”
Yunho jumped out his sleep, surrounded by the other members. He sat up quickly.
“What going on.” Yunho stuttered as he tried to slow his breathing and collect his thoughts.
He looked around and he was at a restaurant in a corner booth. San, Mingi and Hongjoong sitting on his side. While Yeosang, Wooyoung and Jungoh and Seonghwa sat across from him. Wooyoung directly in front of him.
Hongjoong placed his hands on his shoulder. “You okay?”
He still couldn’t get his breathing under control. He looked down at his hands, both there. Then down at his chest. Nothing but beautiful pale skin.
“Hyung, you have to stop drinking so much, you passed out.” Jungoh said as he pushed a cup of water in his direction.
Everyone one laughed except him.
Yunho placed the cup to his lips, and peer at Wooyoung over the edge.
Wooyoung furrowed his brow in confusion.
Yunho looked at all the members confused. Then back at Wooyoung. What a crazy dream—
But just as that thought passed, he felt the slide of someone’s toe up his pants leg.
𝔧𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ WARNING: Dark themes, graphic violence, blood consumption, predatory obsession, vampire lore, dom/sub dynamics, bondage, biting, marking, explicit kink and mature content. 18+ only. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
𝔅𝔢𝔤 𝔐𝔢 𝔗𝔬 ℜ𝔲𝔦𝔫 𝔜𝔬𝔲
He walks you back until your hips hit a solid surface, lifting you easily so your legs wrap tight around his waist. His cold skin burns against yours; every touch is a contradiction, ice that feels like fire, gentle hands that promise to ruin you.
He grinds his hips slow and hard against you, and you moan loud and broken, your fingers digging into his shoulders, needing him closer, needing him to take everything. He kisses down your throat, over your collarbone, lower still, worshipping every inch with his tongue and his teeth, tasting every shiver, every jerk of your body, every whimper that falls from your lips.
“Let me have you,” he pleads against your skin, though there is no question in his voice, only a hunger that will not be denied. “Let me take every part of you. You are mine, body, blood, soul. And I am never letting go.”
Every touch ties you tighter to him, blurring where you end and he begins, just like him and Nyang. You didn’t expect this to happen; you were supposed to go home. But as your eyes lock with his, shining a deep crimson, you know that chance is gone. You are already his.
He lets out a low growl as he watches you, your eyes searching his… before you can speak you gasp, his mouth attaching to your neck in a deep, bruising kiss against your warm skin. His touch is ice cold but burning nevertheless, and you feel your arousal pooling thick and hot between your thighs. A small whimper leaves your throat as your hands lift to wrap around the back of his neck, legs tightening around him, baring every part of yourself to him.
He moves with terrifying grace, walking you toward his room, kicking the door open and stalking straight to the iron hook bolted into the heavy beam above the window. The room glows with the warm, flickering light of hundreds of candles lining the walls, gilding the sharp lines of him, turning his pale skin to something golden and otherworldly. You gasp as he grips your wrists, winding thick, dark crimson silk rope around them, tight enough to hold you, enough to make you feel every pull, every shift, before he gives a sharp tug and hooks the loop over the iron ring.
Your body lifts, toes just grazing the floor, arms pulled gently above your head, fully exposed to him. He steps back, slow, admiring the sight of you bound for him, chest heaving, skin flushed, eyes dark and wanting.
“Tell me to stop,” he purrs, low and dangerous, circling you like a predator savouring its prize. “Beg for your life… beg for mercy.”
The words settle heavy in your gut. This should have scared you, should have sent ice through your veins—but it only makes you shiver, need coiling tighter, hotter.
“Or…” he murmurs, stepping close again, one cold hand sliding slow up your bare thigh, nails dragging sharp and delicious over your skin, “beg me to ruin you.”
His other hand lifts, the tip of one sharp fang grazing the pulse fluttering wild in your throat, and you feel it, every beat of his heart, every pulse of his hunger, every part of him that is already yours.
“Tell me you want this,” he whispers, blood and smoke and eternity in his voice. “Tell me you want to be mine forever.”
𝔧𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ WARNING: Dark themes, graphic violence, blood consumption, predatory obsession, vampire lore, dom/sub dynamics, bondage, biting, marking, explicit kink and mature content. 18+ only. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡
The heavy oak door clicks shut behind you, locking twice—just as Wooyoung locks his own gates every dawn. You should feel trapped, but all you feel is a pull so deep it is as if your soul has recognised its missing half all along. The moment you touched Nyang, you did not just pet a cat, you touched Wooyoung.
Every brush of fur, every purr against your skin, every golden glance was him feeling you through their bond, tasting your presence before you ever even saw his face. He knows the rhythm of your pulse, the scent of your skin, the way your heart races when you are afraid or aroused, all of it was already his to feel, long before you crossed his threshold.
He steps toward you slow, predatory, every movement sure and unhurried. His cold palms cup your face, and you shiver, not from fear, but from the heat that flares in your gut, sharp and aching. Your soul screams this should be wrong, it should be so wrong… you should be feeling terrified, the man before you was the epitome of every nightmare you had ever experienced. Every myth and legend told to scare you, to force your will into fear of the unknown. You were built to fear him, but as you stood here, you couldn’t bring yourself to fear him. He had ignited something within you that was unknown: a heavy, thrumming lust washing over your body, drowning out every warning.
His thumbs brush over your jaw, and you see the faint stain of blood still clinging to his skin; when he presses his thumb to your lower lip, you part for him without hesitation, tasting iron and something dark, ancient, entirely him.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” he murmurs, voice rough and thick with want, his forehead resting against yours so your breaths mingle. “Every time Nyang rubbed against you… that was me. Every time you felt like someone was watching you… that was me. I have been craving you for longer than you can imagine.”
His lips crash to yours then, hungry, bruising, claiming. He kisses you like he is starving, like he intends to drink every sound, every breath, every sigh straight from your throat. His hands roam wildly, greedy and reverent all at once: tearing at your clothes until skin meets cold skin, gripping your hips hard enough to leave dark bruises that will bloom for days, tangling in your hair to angle your head exactly how he wants it. When his fangs graze the soft skin of your neck, you gasp and arch into him, and he groans, a low, guttural sound that vibrates right through your chest.
“Perfect,” he growls against your pulse, teeth dragging just enough to make you throb. “You were made for me. Every part of you.”
𝔧𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ WARNING: Dark themes, graphic violence, blood consumption, predatory obsession, vampire lore, dom/sub dynamics, bondage, biting, marking, explicit kink and mature content. 18+ only. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
𝔉𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴 𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔞𝔱
He does not look like a stray. His fur is glossy, his build strong, and when you stop and kneel, he lifts his head and looks right at you with eyes the colour of molten honey. There is something ancient in that gaze, something that seems to know every secret you have ever kept. He does not flinch when you reach out; he presses his cold head into your palm and purrs, a low, thrumming sound that vibrates right through your skin and settles deep in your chest.
You tell yourself you will just check if he is hurt. You tell yourself you will knock and see if anyone is home. But when he slips out from under the gate and takes three slow steps toward the heavy oak door, then looks back at you, you feel it: a pull so strong it feels less like curiosity and more like memory. Like you have been waiting for this call your whole life.
He does not run. He does not rush. He moves like he is leading you home, and you follow, your feet moving before your mind has decided. The door swings open on its own before you even touch it, as if it has been waiting for you too. Inside, the air is cool and smells of dried lavender, old cedar, and the faint, sharp tang of copper. It is quiet, so quiet you can hear your own heartbeat thudding in your ears.
Nyang pads silently ahead of you, his little paws clicking softly on floorboards that have seen two hundred years of footsteps, and leads you deeper, away from the entrance and toward the back of the house where the light is dim and warm. There, standing half in shadow by the window, is Jung Wooyoung.
He is just as the stories might have painted him: pale skin that looks almost translucent in the candlelight, dark hair falling over sharp features, and those same golden eyes—exactly the same shade as the cat now winding around his ankles. He does not gasp. He does not ask who you are. He simply looks at you, and for a moment you feel as though he is seeing right through your skin, right down to the very core of you.
“He does not bring strangers here,” he says, his voice low and rough, like stones grinding together, yet soft all at once. “He brings only what is meant to be mine.”
You stand frozen, the realisation settling over you slow and heavy: Nyang never lures by accident.
The cat is not just leading you to a house. He is leading you to half of his own soul. The glamour woven into their bond wrapped around you the moment you touched him, whispering promises of devotion, of being seen, of a love so fierce it will consume everything else. It drew you in not because you were tricked, but because your soul recognised what it had been waiting for, even when your mind did not.
Wooyoung takes one slow step toward you, and you do not step back.
“I have waited a very long time for you,” he murmurs, and you believe him. “And now that you are here… I will never let you go.”
𝔧𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔤 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ WARNING: Dark themes, graphic violence, blood consumption, predatory obsession, vampire lore, dom/sub dynamics, bondage, biting, marking, explicit kink and mature content. 18+ only.
⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘
𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖙 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖌𝖊𝖗
Jung Wooyoung wakes as the first pale light spills over the rooftops. Most vampires would burn to ash the moment dawn breaks, screaming as their flesh melts away before they can even blink. But he is both cursed and blessed, an unnatural daywalker, forged two hundred years ago by old, unforgiving magic. He was left for dead in a witch’s tangled garden: drained dry, discarded by the one who turned him, and abandoned to the sunrise before he even understood what he had become. As his pulse faded and cold settled deep in his bones, a ragged black stray refused to leave his side, curling tight around his cooling chest and purring like a quiet, stubborn spell. The witch bound their souls together with blood, iron, and a vow that cannot be undone:
Nyang is not his pet. Nyang is half of him. One soul split between two bodies—they see through each other’s eyes, feel every shift of emotion, and share every craving.
He can walk in daylight. He can step out into the sun, feel its warmth on his skin, and move among living people without fear of burning. But for now, he chooses not to. He stays locked inside because control is the only thing keeping the monster at bay. Every ray of light reminds him he does not truly belong to this world, he is made of hunger and shadow, and if he lets his guard down among crowds, he will tear through anyone who crosses his path. He will not risk losing himself to the ravenous void inside him.
So he sends the part of him that can move unseen instead. Nyang carries his glamour, his quiet will, and the pull of their shared soul; to others the cat is gentle, harmless, irresistible, so he lures only those who deserve to be claimed… or the one Wooyoung is meant to keep.
He swings his legs over the bed and moves without a sound, bare feet gliding over floorboards that have known two centuries of silence and blood. He takes a thick glass from the cupboard and selects the sharpest serrated blade, its edge thrumming with the same sharp, waiting hunger coiled tight in his gut. He unlocks the basement door and descends.
The air hangs heavy: stale fear, cold sweat, and the rich metallic tang of fresh blood clinging to every stone wall. Three figures dangle bound by their ankles, wrists tied behind their backs, screaming until their voices crack and bleed. They are the ones the world let slip away: abusers, thieves, liars, monsters who hid behind kindness and laws and never faced justice. To anyone else, they are criminals.
To Wooyoung, they are only what he is owed.
He steps to the loudest, the one who once revelled in hurting the weak. He tilts their head back in an iron grip, draws the blade slow and deep across their throat, and catches every drop that surges forth. When the glass brims, he drinks deep, a low, guttural moan tearing from his chest as fire surges through his cold veins, waking his dead heart to a heavy, stuttering beat. He licks the blood slow from his fingers, savouring every trace of the life he reclaims.
Then he hears it.
A soft, knowing meow from the top of the stairs.
He looks up. Nyang sits there, sleek black fur blending into the shadows, golden eyes bright—exactly the same shade as his own.
Wooyoung wipes his mouth roughly on a stained old rag, sets the glass aside, and climbs back up. He opens the front door, and this is why he lets Nyang go: the cat is his eyes, his voice, his lure when he cannot bring himself to step out as himself.
Every morning, he lets half his soul wander free, to seek out what he needs, while he stays behind to hold the other half together. Nyang slips out into the pale light, and Wooyoung feels every step he takes, every face he sees, every soul he is drawn to.
He closes the door, locks it twice, and returns to the dark below. To the second captive, the one who stole from the hungry, who burned homes for gain, he moves with one sharp, brutal twist, snapping their neck before driving the blade deep through the same wound. The struggle stops instantly.
The third begs and sobs for mercy they never gave anyone else. A dark, menacing laugh rumbles through Wooyoung’s chest as his fingers wrap tight around the hilt, moving with fluid, terrible grace toward them. He drinks in the terror widening their eyes, watches them writhe uselessly against the ropes. He takes his time, deliberate, cruel, peeling skin, breaking bone, feeding on their fear as greedily as he will feed on their blood. It makes him feel powerful. It makes him feel less like a ghost.
𝒿𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝑜𝑜𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓃𝑔 𝓍 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇
༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰‿̩͙‿̩͙⊱༒︎༻♱༺༒︎⊰
DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.
WARNING: Dark themes, graphic violence, blood, obsession, predatory romance, dom/sub dynamics, bondage, biting, marking, explicit kink and mature content. 18+ only. MDNI.
PROLOUGE - 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖚𝖗𝖊
Two hundred years. Half a soul. Bound to a cat that carries what he cannot bear to show the world.Jung Wooyoung walks in sunlight, yet locks himself away, afraid of the ruin he would leave if he let go.
He sends Nyang to lure what is his. And after centuries of waiting… the cat leads you straight to his door. This is not gentle love. This is hunger that will never end.
A claim written in blood, sealed forever.
He has waited an eternity.
And now that you are here… he will never let you go.
