Ateez As Tumblr Posts - Part 4/?

Every time I see this video I lose a little bit of my sanity. The urge to be a brat and piss him off is SO STRONG 😫

IMAGINE. TALKING. TO. FREAKING. YUNHO. AND. HE.... HE SAID THESE.... THAT HE CAN BE JEALOUS TOO

I will cry right there and then 😭 my yuyu.

CAN ANYONE WRITE A ONE SHOT WITH THIS??

they would make you crawl to them ……

I need a fic of hongjoong’s immediately

Ateez as dark entities

Pairing: ot8!Ateez x reader

Genre: Dark shit

Warnings: dark and twisted themes, yandere themes, damn I suck at writing warnings, please lmk what I can add here

Synopsis: Ateez as dark entities who are obsessed with you. How would that go? (I would be writing this in the third perspective)

Hongjoong: The Puppeteer

A sinister mastermind who controls people’s actions like marionettes, manipulating reality with strings of fate. His words weave deception, pulling the world into his chaotic play.

He saw her in a crowd, but unlike the others, she wasn’t swayed by his unseen strings. Her free will intrigued him, an anomaly in his perfectly controlled world. He watched her for days, testing how much influence he had over her actions. When he realized she resisted, his obsession grew. He needed to break her, to weave her into his masterpiece—his perfect marionette.

At first, she wouldn’t even realize she was being controlled. Hongjoong would make subtle changes—her thoughts, her actions, her choices—until everything she did led her straight back to him.

Her friends would start acting differently, nudging her toward him. Strangers would mention his name as if he was always meant to be in her life. It was a web of manipulation, and she was tangled in it before she even knew.

The moment she tried to break away, she’d feel it—the invisible strings tightening around her wrists. She’d find herself going back to him, no matter how much she resisted. Even when she thought she was making her own choices, they all led back to Hongjoong.

By the time she realized she had never truly been free, it was too late. She was already a puppet in his hands.

Hongjoong wouldn’t resort to mindless violence. No, his punishments would be calculated—surgical.

A single flick of his fingers, and her limbs would move without her consent, forced into painful contortions. She’d feel the strain in her muscles, the stretch of her tendons beyond what they were meant to endure. But he wouldn’t let her break. Not yet.

“I don’t like hurting you,” he’d say, watching as she trembled under his control. “But if you insist on disobeying, I will teach you.”

And just when she thought she’d collapse from the pain, he’d release her—only to hold her close, stroking her hair as she whimpered. “See? If you just behave, you won’t have to suffer.”

Seonghwa: The Phantom Monarch

A cursed ruler who lingers between life and death, draped in shadows and whispering forgotten prophecies. His touch brings both solace and despair, a ghostly presence haunting his own kingdom.

She entered the ruins of his long-forgotten kingdom, unaware of the ghostly presence watching her. When she touched his throne, a flicker of warmth pulsed through his cold existence for the first time in centuries. He had been a ruler without a queen, a soul without purpose. Now, he had one. If she could make him feel, then she belonged to him.

Seonghwa’s trap was patience. He didn’t chase—he lured. Whenever she left a place, she’d feel his presence lingering behind, just out of sight.

She’d hear his voice in the wind, see his reflection in darkened windows. He became an inescapable part of her world, an unseen force watching her every move.

Then, one night, the world would shift. She’d wake up in a place that looked like her home but wasn’t. The furniture was the same, the air smelled familiar, but the sky outside was an endless void. The door wouldn’t open, the windows showed nothing but darkness.

She’d turn—and there he’d be, standing in the doorway. “You wandered too far,” he’d say, tilting his head. “Now, you can never leave.”

Seonghwa wouldn’t strike her. He wouldn’t even touch her.

But he’d make her feel like she was dying.

He’d whisper a few words, and suddenly, the air would vanish from her lungs. No oxygen, no relief—just the slow, creeping suffocation of her own body betraying her. He’d watch her fall to her knees, eyes wide in terror, clutching at her throat as she silently begged for mercy.

Only when she was on the verge of unconsciousness would he allow her to breathe again. He’d catch her before she hit the floor, his voice a soothing lullaby.

“I hate doing this,” he’d murmur, wiping away the tears streaking her face. “But you need to understand. You are mine.”

Yunho: The Hollow Jester

A deceivingly cheerful trickster whose laughter hides an empty soul. He thrives on others’ misery, playing twisted games that always end in despair, his mask concealing a haunting void

She laughed. It was a sound so genuine, so full of life—something he lacked. He saw her in the reflection of a shattered mirror, a place where only twisted souls should exist. But she was untouched, pure. He had to change that. He wanted to see how long she could keep that smile once she stepped into his world of madness.

Yunho would make her question reality itself. It would start small—objects moving from where she left them, voices whispering from places they shouldn’t be.

She’d see glimpses of him in mirrors, but when she turned around, he wouldn’t be there. He wanted to break her mind before he claimed her.

Then, one day, she’d wake up in a world that wasn’t hers. The people around her would wear empty smiles, their laughter hollow and unsettling. No matter where she ran, she’d always end up back at the same place—a grand, eerie carnival with no exit.

And at the center of it all, sitting on his throne of illusions, was Yunho, grinning as he held out his hand. “Welcome home.”

Yunho would turn it into a game—a cruel, endless game.

She’d wake up in a room she didn’t recognize, doors stretching in every direction. “If you can find the real exit,” his voice would echo from nowhere, “I’ll let you go.”

Desperation would push her to run, to fling open door after door, but each one led somewhere worse—a room full of mirrors reflecting her worst fears, a hallway that stretched infinitely, a pit of darkness with no end. The sound of his laughter would follow her, amused and patient.

Finally, when she was broken, exhausted, curled in a corner with silent tears, he’d crouch beside her, brushing her hair back. “See?” he’d whisper. “You’re always safest when you stay with me.”

Yeosang: The Watcher in the Mirror

An entity that exists within reflections, observing silently and waiting for the right moment to step into reality. Those who meet his gaze feel their deepest fears manifest before them.

She looked into the mirror, and he looked back. Unlike the others, she didn’t turn away in fear. She stared, as if searching for something. That was the first time someone acknowledged his existence without terror. He had been watching her long before she noticed him, but now, she had seen him. And once you see the Watcher, he never lets you go.

Yeosang never had to chase her—she was the one who kept looking for him. Every time she passed a reflective surface, his eyes were there, watching.

She should have stopped looking, should have turned away. But she didn’t. Curiosity turned into obsession, and that was his trap.

One day, she’d reach out to touch the glass, and it wouldn’t be solid anymore. Instead of her reflection, it would be his hand reaching back. A single pull, and she’d fall through, tumbling into his world—a place made of endless reflections, where only he could find the way out. But there was no escape.

“You searched for me,” he’d whisper, his lips brushing against her ear. “Now, you’ll never stop seeing me.”

Yeosang would make her lose herself.

The first cut would be shallow—a single line down her palm, bleeding just enough to stain the floor. But the reflection in the mirror? It would be so much worse.

In the glass, she’d see herself covered in wounds, skin marred by deep, jagged gashes. Her breath would hitch—was it real? She’d feel no pain, but the sight alone would break her, make her wonder if her body was even her own anymore.

“Which version of you do you think is real?” Yeosang would ask, voice soft, cruel. “The one standing here? Or the one who’s already been ruined?”

By the time he was done, she wouldn’t be sure if she was whole anymore.

San: The Wrathborn Beast

A relentless, cursed creature with uncontainable fury, lurking in the darkness and striking with unmatched ferocity. His hunger for vengeance keeps him shackled in eternal torment.

She was the first to step into his cage without trembling. His rage had driven everyone away, but she stood there, eyes locked with his, unafraid. He hated it at first—the way she didn’t cower. But then, he realized something. If she could stand before a monster without fear, then she was strong enough to endure him. He didn’t want to be alone anymore, and she was the only one worthy of staying.

San knew she was drawn to him despite the danger. He let her think she had control, that she could leave whenever she wanted. But every time she walked away, something inside her ached. She craved the thrill, the way his presence sent a shiver down her spine.

That was his trap—making her believe she chose him when, in reality, he had chosen her from the start.

The day she finally tried to leave for good, he didn’t stop her. Instead, he let her feel the emptiness, the unbearable absence of him. And when she inevitably returned, desperate for the chaos only he could give, he was waiting.

“You walked into the lion’s den, little lamb,” he murmured, arms caging her in. “You should’ve known you’d never walk out.”

San wouldn’t hold back. He wouldn’t lie to himself about what he was doing.

When he was angry, when she had truly pushed him too far, his grip would be punishing. His fingers would dig into her skin hard enough to bruise, his voice low with fury.

“You want to run? Fine. Let’s see how far you can crawl.”

A single shove would send her to the floor, and he wouldn’t help her up. Instead, he’d watch as she struggled, as she realized how weak she was compared to him.

And when she finally gave up, when she curled up at his feet, he’d sigh—exhausted, but satisfied.

“Don’t make me do this again,” he’d whisper, pulling her into his arms despite her flinching. “I don’t like hurting you. But I won’t let you leave me either.”

Mingi: The Nightmare Poet

A being whose words shape reality, crafting dreams that turn into horrifying nightmares. His voice echoes in the minds of those who hear him, driving them to madness.

She dreamed of him before they ever met. His words had slipped into her mind, shaping her thoughts, her fears, her desires. He whispered stories in the dead of night, and she listened. When she finally saw him in the waking world, there was no shock—only recognition. She had belonged to him from the first nightmare, and now, he was here to claim her.

Mingi’s trap was set long before she ever met him. He had been in her dreams for weeks, whispering poetry laced with shadows, planting fears only he could soothe.

Every night, she dreamed of him. Every morning, she woke up with the lingering echo of his voice in her mind. She should have been afraid, but she wasn’t. She was drawn to him, to the way his words made her feel like she belonged in his world of nightmares.

Then, one night, she wouldn’t wake up. She’d open her eyes to find herself in a realm made of her own fears, with Mingi standing at its center.

“You kept listening,” he’d say, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “And now, you’ll never wake up without me.”

Mingi’s cruelty would be subtle—a slow, creeping thing.

She’d wake up with her memories altered. One moment, she’d remember everything—the pain, the fear, the desperate attempt to run. The next? She’d remember nothing but warmth, love, the softest touch.

Which was real? Which was a lie?

She’d claw at her own skin, desperate to remember what was true. And Mingi would watch, amused, patient.

“You’re overthinking,” he’d coo, pulling her hands away so she couldn’t hurt herself further. “Just trust me. I’ll tell you what’s real.”

And by the time he was done, she wouldn’t even realize she had ever wanted to leave.

Wooyoung: The Siren of Shadows

A deadly seducer whose beauty and charm lure souls into eternal darkness. His whispers are irresistible, drawing victims into an abyss from which they can never escape.

She heard his voice first, a soft melody in the dark. It called to her, leading her deeper into the unknown. He watched her hesitate, but her curiosity won. When she finally laid eyes on him, she was already too far gone. He smiled. She had walked willingly into his grasp, and now, he would never let her leave.

Wooyoung’s voice was her downfall. It was everywhere—in the music she listened to, in the whispered words she thought were her own thoughts.

He sang her name in the wind, in the rustling of leaves, in the quiet hum of the night. The more she listened, the more she needed to hear him. That was his trap—addiction.

By the time she realized she was bound to his melody, she was already too deep. His voice was the only thing that felt real.

And when he finally stood before her, holding out his hand, she didn’t resist. “You’ve already fallen,” he murmured, lips brushing her ear. “Now, let me pull you under.”

Wooyoung wouldn’t need to use force. Love itself would become her prison.

He’d kiss her through the pain. His lips would trail over bruises he had left, his fingers tracing over the bite marks he had carved into her skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he’d whisper against her lips, voice trembling with emotion. “But you keep forcing me to.”

And the worst part? He’d be so gentle afterward. He’d hold her in his arms, press kisses to every wound, wipe away her tears with shaking hands. Guilty. Apologetic.

But he’d do it again. And again.

Until she stopped trying to fight it.

Jongho: The Titan of Ruin

A monstrous force of destruction, his strength shatters worlds. He is an unstoppable force, cursed to bring devastation wherever he treads, his very existence a harbinger of doom.

He found her in the aftermath of destruction—standing amidst ruin, untouched by the chaos he created. She should have run. She should have feared him. But she didn’t. Instead, she reached out, as if daring to touch the force that could crush her in an instant. He had never hesitated in destruction, but for the first time, he held back. If she was unafraid of his power, then she was the only one worthy of standing beside him.

Jongho didn’t need tricks or illusions—his trap was raw, undeniable power. He was a force of nature, and she was the only one who dared to stand before him.

He let her believe she could handle him, that she could walk away whenever she wished. He admired her stubbornness, but he knew the truth—she was already his.

When the time came, he didn’t give her a choice. The ground beneath her feet would shatter, the walls around her would crumble. There would be no escape, no safety. And when she turned to him, the only solid thing amidst the chaos, he’d hold out his hand.

“The world is too fragile for you,” he’d murmur. “Stay with me. I’ll make sure nothing ever takes you away.”

Jongho wouldn’t need tricks or illusions. He would simply remind her of who was stronger.

The moment he caught her, he’d pull her against his chest, his grip firm—unbreakable. “Are you done?” he’d ask, voice calm, but with an edge that sent shivers down her spine.

And when she refused to answer, when she still clung to the last scraps of defiance, he’d hold her tighter. Until she gasped for air, until she realized there was no winning against him.

Only then would he let go, letting her crumble to her knees. “Next time,” he’d murmur, crouching beside her, “I won’t be so gentle.”

But she knew there wouldn’t be a next time. Because now, whenever she even thought about running… she’d remember the feeling of his arms caging her in, and she’d know—

She’d never escape him.

The way he looks so smug about it too oh I’m gonna END IT

You are so loved Yunhooooo 💕 🫰🏻😭

Thank you for choosing him,girl 🫶🏻💕

This literally made my day 💙 🥺

「 Booty Gains - S.MG 」

"This is all you’re good for, isn’t it? Bent over, dripping, begging for me to use you.”

~ "Reader teases Mingi with some booty pics and vids while she's at the gym, and he's at work, add shower sex" ~ req. by anon

pairing: mingi x fem!reader

genre: 18+, filth

summary: you just can't stop being your bratty self whenever your man is at work, all bored. so you have the best idea of sending him some booty pics, not even thinking about how he'd ruin the hell out of you when he gets home.

wc: 3.8k

warnings: rough mingi, brat reader, possessiveness, ownership, punishment kink, humiliation kink, degradation/name calling (slut, etc.), praise kink, rough sex, hair pulling, ass spanking, marking (hickeys and bites), breasts fondling, nipple playing, manhandling, dirty talk, orgasm control, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, squirting, creampie, breeding kink, lots of cummm, shower sex, brat taming, mocking, teasing, a tad bit of aftercare, completely consensual!, unprotected (boo use protection irl!!), for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: as a gym girlie that loves going to the gym, I would 100% do this to my man (I don't have a man atm but just saying) cause the anticipation is chef’s kiss. I loved writing this !! Thank you so much, anon, for sending in such a nice request ^^

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The gym was nearly empty, just the way you liked it. The low hum of machines and the rhythmic clanking of weights filled the space, but your focus was elsewhere. Your reflection in the mirror held your attention, the sweat glistening on your skin, the curve of your body accentuated by the snug fit of your leggings and sports bra.

Mingi had texted you earlier, complaining about how bored he was at work, stuck in another useless meeting. He had no idea what you were about to do.

A wicked smirk tugged at your lips as you adjusted your phone, angling it just right to capture the dip of your waist and the teasing outline of your hips. You snapped a picture, making sure the lighting hit all the right places before sending it off.

You: Missing you. Thought you might like a little motivation to get through your day.

It didn’t take long for your phone to vibrate with his response.

Mingi: Oh, you wanna play while I’m at work?

Your stomach fluttered at his tone. Hooking your thumbs into the waistband of your leggings, you slowly tugged them down just enough to reveal the plump curve of your ass, letting the fabric cling sinfully low. No one was there, so you pulled them just slightly lower. Your full ass was on display, plump and perky. You snapped another picture, this time a little bolder, a little filthier. Send.

The typing bubble appeared immediately. Then, a pause. Then—

Mingi: You better stop while you still can.

You bit your lip, suppressing a giggle. But stopping was the last thing on your mind. Feeling particularly bratty, you propped your phone up against the mirror and recorded a short clip—hips swaying, ass jiggling just enough to tease, your fingers lightly tracing over the curve before you tugged your leggings back into place.

You sent the video without hesitation.

This time, his response came instantly.

Mingi: You're fucked.

A thrill shot straight between your thighs.

You: You love it.

The dots appeared and disappeared for a long moment before your phone buzzed again. This time, your breath hitched when you opened the message.

Mingi had sent you a picture—a low, grainy shot of his lap under his desk, his thick cock straining hard against his dark slacks, the outline painfully clear through the fabric. The sight alone made your mouth water.

Mingi: You’re gonna take care of this when I get home.

You swallowed hard, squeezing your thighs together. Just as you were about to type back, your phone lit up with an incoming call.

You answered immediately. "Hello?"

His voice was low, dark, and dripping with something dangerous. "You think you’re funny?"

You hummed innocently, twirling a strand of hair around your finger. "I don’t know what you mean."

Mingi exhaled sharply, and you could practically hear the tension in his body, the way he was probably gripping his phone too hard, jaw clenched.

"When I get home, you’re not gonna be able to sit right. You understand me?"

Your breath hitched.

"Mmm. Can’t wait."

There was a beat of silence before he let out a quiet chuckle, one that sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

The line went dead.

And now all you had to do was wait.

The moment you got home, you couldn’t shake the smug little grin playing on your lips. Kicking off your sneakers, you stretched your sore muscles, still feeling the delicious burn from your workout. Your body was buzzing, half from the endorphins, half from the anticipation of what was coming.

Padding over to your full-length mirror, you tilted your head, running your fingers along your waist, smoothing over the curve of your ass. You giggled softly, replaying the texts with Mingi in your head—the way his tone had darkened, the picture he had sent you, the promise laced in his last words.

You shivered, excitement pooling low in your stomach. You had really riled him up this time.

Shaking your head, you grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom, stripping off your gym clothes piece by piece. The air was warm, thick with steam as you turned on the shower, stepping under the hot spray. The water cascaded down your body, soothing the ache in your muscles, washing away the sheen of sweat. Your fingers trailed idly along your skin, stomach tightening at the thought of what was coming. Your fingers also trailed right between your thighs, slowly through your folds, thinking about how good it would feel if your fingers were Mingi's cock.

There was one thing you knew, tho. Mingi was going to ruin you.

You didn’t know how much time had passed—your mind had drifted into a hazy space, caught between relaxation and anticipation—when you suddenly heard it.

Click. Your body tensed. The front door.

A thrill shot through you, setting every nerve alight. He was home.

You barely had a second to react before the sound of heavy footsteps filled the silence, growing closer, more deliberate. Your pulse pounded against your ribs as you heard a single knock on the bathroom door.

Then, before you could answer—

The door swung open.

The steam curled around him as he stepped inside, towering and dangerous, still dressed in his dark work clothes. His tie was loosened, his shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing the smooth line of his collarbone. But it was his eyes that held you captive—dark, heavy with something primal, something feral.

You swallowed hard, heat pooling between your legs.

"Mingi—"

His lips curled into a smirk as he tugged at his belt, the leather slipping through his fingers with an unmistakable sound. "You had a lot to say and send earlier," he mused, voice low, predatory. "But now that I’m here, you’re quiet?"

Your breath hitched as he took another step forward, "Did you touch yourself while you were waiting for me? Bet you did. Bet you thought you could get off without me. That’s fucking cute.”

And before you could say another word, he was reaching for you. You were about to learn exactly what it meant to be at Mingi’s mercy.

The heat in the bathroom thickened, the steam swirling around you like a fog, but nothing compared to the fire burning in Mingi’s eyes. He stepped closer, the space between you shrinking as he dragged his belt from the loops of his slacks, the leather slipping through his fingers with a slow, deliberate motion.

"You wanted my attention, baby," he murmured, voice low and dark. The sound of his belt dropping to the tiled floor sent a shiver through you. "Now you’ve got it."

You swallowed hard, pressing your back against the cool shower wall, the contrast to the heat in your body making you dizzy.

Mingi’s hands went to the buttons of his shirt, unfastening them one by one, exposing the smooth planes of his chest, the taut lines of his stomach. He took his time, knowing exactly what he was doing, letting your eyes roam over him as he peeled the fabric from his broad shoulders and let it fall.

"You’ve been a fucking brat all day." His voice was silk and sin, smooth yet dripping with something dangerous. "Sending me pictures while I was at work—" The zipper came down in one slow drag. "—knowing damn well I couldn’t do shit about it."

Your breath hitched when he shoved his pants and boxers down in one motion, his thick cock springing free, already painfully hard.

"You’re gonna take care of this," he rasped, palming himself lazily, eyes locked onto you.

Your thighs pressed together instinctively, but Mingi didn’t miss it. He smirked, stepping under the spray, the water running down his body in rivulets, droplets clinging to the sharp edges of his muscles.

"You know what I should do?" He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something dark, something wicked. "I should fuck you against this wall." His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Shouldn’t even let you adjust. Just spread you open and take you—"

A sharp gasp left your lips.

He chuckled, cocking a brow as he stepped even closer, the heat of his body pressing against yours. His fingers trailed along your arm, up to your throat, his grip loose but possessive.

"Bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you?" he murmured, thumb brushing against your pulse. "You’ve been dripping for me since the moment you saw that picture. Knew exactly what you were doing when you sent me those."

His free hand trailed down, fingers teasing the curve of your hip before slipping lower.

"Tell me, baby," he rasped, lips ghosting over your ear. "Are you ready to take what’s coming to you?”

A slow, teasing smile curved your lips as you met his dark gaze, your lashes fluttering just slightly. “Mmm,” you hummed, tilting your chin up defiantly. “I don’t know… I think you talk a big game, Mingi. But are you really gonna do something about it?”

His jaw ticked, and for a split second, you saw the flicker of restraint in his eyes—the thin thread of patience that you knew was about to snap.

And then it did.

With a low growl, he crushed his mouth against yours, lips claiming you in a messy, desperate kiss. His tongue swept past your lips without hesitation, hot and insistent, tasting, devouring, punishing you for every teasing word, every taunting glance. The kiss was wet, sloppy, his breath heavy as he groaned into your mouth, like he was finally letting himself have what he’d been craving all damn day.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him, his cock pressing against your stomach, hot and throbbing. You moaned into his mouth, fingers curling into his damp hair, but before you could even think about deepening the kiss, he was yanking away.

“Turn around,” he ordered, voice rough, thick with impatience.

You hesitated just long enough to see the dangerous glint in his eyes before his hand shot out, curling into your wet hair. A sharp gasp left your lips as he tugged, tilting your head back just enough to arch your spine. His other hand pressed firmly against your lower back, forcing you against the cool shower wall.

“You wanna play games?” he murmured, his voice low, taunting. “Then let’s fucking play.”

A shiver ran through you, anticipation making your pulse spike. His grip tightened, holding you exactly where he wanted you, his breath hot against your shoulder. And then—

He thrust into you in one smooth, punishing motion, stretching you open without warning.

A strangled moan tore from your throat, pleasure-pain searing through your body as he filled you to the hilt, not giving you a second to adjust. The stretch was intoxicating, overwhelming, but you could feel how much he needed this—how much he had craved this moment, how much he had been holding back all fucking day.

"Fuck," Mingi growled, his fingers digging into your hips. "This is what you wanted, huh? To get fucked like a little brat who doesn’t know when to stop teasing?”

You barely managed a breathy whimper before he pulled back, only to slam into you again, harder this time, sending you onto your toes. The sound of wet skin slapping together filled the air, mixing with the steady rush of water and the filthy, wrecked noises slipping past your lips.

Mingi was relentless, his thrusts rough and unyielding, every snap of his hips a reminder of exactly why you shouldn’t have teased him. His hand fisted in your hair, keeping your back arched as he fucked into you with punishing force, his chest heaving behind you.

"This is all you’re good for, isn’t it? Bent over, dripping, begging for me to use you.”

A broken moan left your lips, and Mingi chuckled darkly.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his grip tightening. “I’m just getting started.”

His hand tightened in your hair, tugging just enough to make your scalp tingle, your back arching deeper. His other hand splayed over your hip, fingers digging into your skin as he pounded into you, each thrust sending shocks of pleasure rippling through your body. The wet sounds of skin meeting skin filled the steamy air, each slap of his hips against your ass punctuated by his ragged breathing.

"Fuck—" Mingi groaned, voice wrecked, like he was losing himself in the feeling of you wrapped around him. "You feel so fucking good, baby. So damn tight—like you were made for me."

You whimpered, pressing your cheek against the shower wall, your knees threatening to buckle under the force of his thrusts. But Mingi wasn’t about to let you collapse—not when he was in the middle of breaking you apart.

His grip shifted, one hand leaving your hip to trail up your side, fingers brushing over your ribcage before sliding up to cup your breast. He kneaded the soft flesh roughly, thumb flicking over your hardened nipple, making you jolt under his touch.

"That’s it," he murmured, voice thick with satisfaction as he felt your body tremble beneath him. "Taking me so fucking well. "Such a messy little thing. Look at you—moaning like a whore just because I’m fucking you.”

A soft whimper left your lips, but before you could answer, his hand slapped against your ass, the sharp sting making you cry out. The impact sent a fresh wave of heat surging through your core, your walls fluttering around him as pleasure mingled with the delicious burn of his palm.

Mingi chuckled darkly, rubbing over the spot he had just smacked before delivering another sharp slap.

"Fuck—" he hissed as he felt you clench around him, his rhythm faltering for a second. "You like that, huh? Like when I put you in your place?"

"Y-yes," you gasped, barely able to form the words.

"Yeah? I bet you do," he rasped, his fingers tightening in your hair as he yanked your head back, forcing your spine to arch even deeper. "Bet you fucking love being used like this. Bent over, dripping, begging for me to ruin you."

His words sent a shudder straight through you, your body throbbing with need.

Mingi smirked, leaning in to press his lips against the shell of your ear. "You're such a good little slut for me, baby," he murmured, his tone softer now, almost sweet—but the way his hips snapped into you said otherwise. "So fucking perfect, taking everything I give you."

His teeth scraped over your shoulder before he bit down, marking you, claiming you. The pain sent a jolt of pleasure through your system, your moan spilling into the air as your nails clawed at the slick shower wall.

Mingi groaned against your skin, his hips losing their rhythm, growing rougher, more erratic.

"Mine," he growled, his hand wrapping around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. "Every fucking inch of you—mine."

Mingi could feel it—your body trembling beneath him, your walls tightening like a vice around his cock, your moans turning high-pitched and breathless. You were right there, dangling on the edge, and he was going to push you over.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his fingers tightening around your throat just enough to make your head spin. "Come for me. Show me how much you fucking love this."

His free hand dropped between your legs, fingers finding your swollen, neglected clit. The second he pressed down, rubbing harsh, tight circles, your whole body jerked, pleasure slamming into you like a tidal wave.

A sharp, broken cry tore from your throat as you came, your orgasm hitting so intensely that your legs nearly gave out. Your walls fluttered wildly around his cock, squeezing him so tight it made him curse under his breath.

"Fuck, fuck—just like that," he groaned, chasing his own high now, slamming into you with reckless, desperate thrusts. "God, you’re so fucking tight when you come—"

His grip on your hips turned bruising as he buried himself deep, his cock throbbing as his own orgasm crashed over him. His moan was low and guttural, his breath hot against your ear as he spilled inside you, filling you to the brim with his warm, silky white cum.

But Mingi wasn’t finished.

Before you could even recover, before your body could stop shaking, he pulled back slightly—then slammed back into you, deeper than before.

A strangled gasp left your lips, your body convulsing at the sudden overstimulation. "M-Mingi—!"

"Oh, baby," he cooed, mock sympathy dripping from his voice. "Too much?"

But his hips never slowed. If anything, he fucked into you harder, faster, his cock bullying past your sensitivity, rubbing against that sweet, overstimulated spot with every relentless thrust.

Your hands scrambled against the wet tile, your head spinning, pleasure too much, too sharp, your body unsure whether to pull away or press back into him.

"Mingi—! I c-can’t—"

"You can," he growled, fisting your hair tighter, forcing your back to arch even deeper. "You will."

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing it mercilessly. Your body was breaking, splintering apart under the overwhelming sensation.

"You’re gonna squirt for me," he murmured, his voice rough, commanding. "I know you can, baby. Come on—be my good girl and soak me."

Your breath hitched, everything in you coiling tighter and tighter, nerves fried, mind blank, only able to feel him—his cock pounding into you, his fingers working your clit, his grip keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

The pressure built impossibly high, and then—

You shattered.

A cry ripped from your throat, your entire body locking up as waves of white-hot pleasure crashed over you. Your walls spasmed violently around his cock, and suddenly, you were gushing, soaking his thighs, dripping down onto the shower floor as your orgasm wrecked you.

Mingi groaned, his thrusts turning wild, erratic, as he fucked you through it, milking every last drop from you. "Fuck, that's it—so fucking pretty, baby, look at you—"

Your body convulsed, twitching under him, barely able to handle the intensity of it. Tears pricked your eyes, your moans turning into soft, desperate whimpers.

But Mingi wasn’t stopping.

"One more," he panted, his grip tightening. "Give me one more, baby."

And you knew—you weren’t getting out of this until he got exactly what he wanted.

Your body was trembling—wrecked, overstimulated, barely able to keep yourself upright against the shower wall.

His hand released your hair, only for his arms to hook around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You gasped, feeling his cock still buried deep inside you, still hard, still throbbing, still demanding more.

"Mingi—" your voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, deceptively sweet, before dragging his tongue up the column of your throat, tasting the sweat and water beading on your skin. "One more, baby," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "I know you can take it."

Before you could even process his words, he was moving.

With effortless strength, he spun you around, pressing your back against the cold shower tiles. His hands gripped the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up until your legs wrapped around his waist. The new position had him sinking even deeper into you, the stretch making your head fall back against the wall with a strangled moan.

"F-fuck—" you gasped, your nails digging into his slick shoulders.

Mingi groaned, rolling his hips slowly at first, dragging his cock in and out of your oversensitive, drenched pussy, feeling every twitch, every flutter. "You’re shaking, baby," he mused, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, his tone teasing. "Is it too much?"

You could barely breathe, let alone answer, your body caught between unbearable overstimulation and insatiable need. But Mingi wasn’t going to let you recover.

His hands slid down to grip your ass, and then he snapped his hips up into you, hard and punishing, making you choke on a moan.

"Yeah?" he groaned, fucking into you mercilessly, pressing you harder against the shower wall. "That’s what I thought."

The new angle had him hitting impossibly deep, dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. His grip was bruising, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he used it to pull you down onto his cock with every brutal thrust. Your body felt like it was on fire, caught between unbearable pleasure and the sweet agony of being pushed past your limits.

"You wanted this, didn’t you?" Mingi panted, his lips trailing down your throat, his teeth grazing your skin. "Wanted me to fuck you dumb, make you cock drunk, huh—"

You whimpered, head lolling to the side as he sucked a deep mark onto your neck, his tongue flicking over the sensitive skin before biting down just enough to make you cry out.

"Such a good fucking girl," he murmured against your throat, his voice low, velvety, sending shivers straight to your core. "Taking it so well for me. Letting me use this pretty pussy however I want."

Your body clenched around him, and Mingi groaned, feeling your walls fluttering dangerously close to release again.

"You're gonna come again, aren’t you?" he rasped, pressing his forehead against yours, his pace growing wilder, more desperate. "Gonna soak me like the filthy little thing you are?"

Your thighs quivered around his waist, your entire body trembling, nerves fried, pleasure curling unbearably tight in your stomach. You were right there—on the edge of another devastating climax, so sensitive it almost hurt, but so fucking good you never wanted him to stop.

Mingi leaned in, lips brushing yours, his voice nothing but a breathless command.

"Come for me, baby."

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate circles, and that was it—your body shattered, a sharp, broken moan ripping from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you.

A gush of wetness flooded between your bodies again, and Mingi groaned, his hips stuttering, his cock throbbing violently as you squirted around him, soaking his abs, his thighs, dripping down between you.

"Fuck, f-fuck—" he choked, watching the way your body writhed, how you pulsed, how your head tipped back in pure, mindless pleasure. "God, that’s so fucking hot. Such a good little slut for me, making a mess like this.”

His hips snapped into you a few more times, frantic, desperate, before he buried himself to the hilt, grinding deep as he came inside you with a low, wrecked moan.

For a long moment, the only sound in the bathroom was the heavy panting of your breaths, the soft hum of the shower still running.

Mingi let his forehead rest against yours, his hands smoothing up your back, holding you close, grounding you both.

Then, after a beat, he chuckled, voice rough but laced with something undeniably fond.

"You," he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, "you are never allowed to tease me while I'm at work again.”

You smiled, “yeah, sure..” a glint of bratiness in your words.

He looked at you with dark hunger, his gaze dropping to your ruined body. “Hmm, now that I think about it, I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet. Maybe I should keep you full of me all night.”

NETWORKS: @blossomnet @illusionnet @mirohs-aurora-society

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @strawberry-mingi @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @tahiraax1 @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @atzlordz @chai0tea @miyaluvvsyou @lezleeferguson-120 @sopematesxx

---

Thorn by Night - Hongjoong

~vampire hj x werewolf fem!reader + as a continuation or in relation with Blood Oath~ req by @justevthings

pairing: vampire!hongjoong x werewolf fem!reader

genre: 18+, filth, abo

summary: you're fated to be with him.. and he knows better than anyone that he should make you his before it's too late.

wc: 5.7k

warnings: vampire x werewolf au, biting, harsh possessiveness, blood drinking, neck sucking, neck marking, hair pulling, oral both m and f, multiple rounds, head pushing, deep throating, lots of cum, finger sucking, lots lots of teasing, it's too late for me to think of more please bare with me, think of anything that could happen with hj and that’s probbalt it lmao, completely consensual!, unprotected (boo use protection irl!!), for sureeee forgot something, will edit tomorrow ^^

Author's Note: I always love me the vampire ver of these men nsususj i love them. tysm for this request honeyyy ^^

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and foes not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The night air was thick with tension, the scent of damp earth and burning torches mingling in the cool breeze that swept across the grounds of the werewolves’ mansion. The towering structure stood proudly at the edge of the forest, its stone walls bathed in the pale light of the moon. Hongjoong stood with a confident posture, his crimson eyes gleaming in the darkness as he observed the gathered werewolf pack. They were rugged and powerful, their eyes flickering with distrust, their human forms standing tall, exuding the strength of centuries-old traditions.

But none of them captured his attention quite like you.

You were unlike any werewolf he had ever seen. Ethereal, almost otherworldly under the moon’s glow, your long white hair flowed like a silver river down your back, a striking contrast against the night. You stood with an elegance that commanded attention, but it wasn’t just your beauty that drew him in—it was the undeniable pull between you both, a magnetic force that whispered to him that you were his. Fate had intertwined your lives, an invisible bond that could not be ignored.

Yet, you would never be his. You couldn’t be.

Vampires and werewolves were enemies, bound by centuries of hatred and bloodshed. The treaty that had brought Hongjoong here was meant to keep the peace, to prevent war—not to ignite something far more dangerous. And yet, as your eyes locked with his, his pulse quickened, something stirring inside him that he hadn’t felt in ages.

You felt it too. He could see it in the way your breath hitched, the subtle way your fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to reach for him.

He smirked, intrigued by the connection.

His brother’s voice broke through his thoughts, cold and sharp. “Let’s finish this quickly.”

Seonghwa stood beside him, his presence a silent threat, as always. His sharp gaze never left the werewolves, daring anyone to challenge their authority. As the more imposing of the two, Seonghwa was the enforcer, the one who made sure their kind never strayed from the rules. Hongjoong could sense your unease, the way you stiffened slightly when Seonghwa’s gaze flicked toward you. It was the kind of fear that was not unfounded; Seonghwa had a way of making people feel small, even in their human form.

The werewolf leader, a tall figure with a gruff voice, spoke, his tone firm. “We will review the terms overnight. My pack will decide by sunrise.”

Hongjoong nodded slowly, his gaze returning to you. He couldn’t ignore the pull, the desire to know more about you, to have you.

As the meeting ended, the werewolves began to disperse, retreating into the mansion. But you lingered, just for a moment, your eyes meeting his again. Hongjoong stepped forward, closing the distance, letting his presence brush against yours. It was an unspoken challenge, an invitation.

You turned quickly, slipping into the mansion’s shadows, but Hongjoong knew. You weren’t running. You were waiting.

Later that night, Hongjoong found you standing at the edge of the mansion’s terrace, bathed in the soft light of the moon. The mansion behind you was quiet, and the sounds of distant footsteps had faded into the night. Your expression was guarded, but your body language gave you away—the way you subtly angled toward him, as if you couldn’t stay away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said, your voice soft but firm, a hint of warning.

“Neither should you,” he replied, his voice low, smooth, as he closed the distance between you both, watching as a shiver ran through you—not from the cold, but from the proximity of his presence.

Your lips parted, but you didn’t argue. You both knew the truth—there was something between you that couldn’t be denied, something neither of you could control.

“My leader will choose my mate at sunrise,” you confessed, your voice barely a whisper, “If they see me with you—”

“They won’t.” Hongjoong was standing before you now, his face mere inches from yours, his breath mingling with yours. “Because you’ll be gone before then.”

You tensed, the reality of his words sinking in. “What are you saying?”

A teasing smirk curved his lips, but there was something darker beneath it. “Come with me. Run.”

You stared up at him, defiance in your eyes. “You really think I’m just going to follow you?”

Hongjoong’s smirk deepened. “I think you already are.”

You felt your pulse quicken as he took another step forward, crowding you with his presence. “You’re not going to win this. Your pack will never let you take me.”

He leaned in closer, voice low and teasing. “Your pack won’t matter when you’re with me.”

You tilted your head, trying to hold onto your resistance. “What’s stopping me from running? From telling them?”

He chuckled darkly, brushing a lock of hair from your face. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetie. You’ll follow me... and you’ll want to.”

Your breath hitched, your body betraying your defiance. You took a small step back but didn’t move away entirely. “You’re full of yourself.”

“Not full enough,” he said with a grin. “You’re drawn to me, same as I am to you. Don’t pretend you’re not.”

You hesitated, your defiance slipping as you felt that undeniable pull. “You’re impossible.”

Hongjoong’s grin widened as he reached out, cupping your chin gently. “And you’re already mine.”

For a moment, you stayed still, anger and desire fighting within you. But the desire won out. You let out a breath, and with one last, reluctant step forward, you muttered, “Fine. Let’s go.”

Hongjoong’s smirk softened, his voice filled with triumph. “That’s more like it, sweetie. I knew you couldn’t resist.”

—

Hongjoong led you through the grand halls of his and Seonghwa's mansion, his hand resting on your back, guiding you through the lavish space. The opulence of the place was overwhelming, dark wood, velvet drapes, and flickering candlelight filling every corner. As much as you tried to act unaffected, you could feel the weight of the tension building between you both.

Just as you reached the living room, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind. Seonghwa appeared in the doorway, his icy eyes flicking over to you for only a moment before landing on his brother. The calm, controlled presence of Seonghwa was a stark contrast to the energy crackling between you and Hongjoong.

“You’re not finished with your bullshit yet?” Seonghwa’s voice cut through the air, dripping with amusement. “You really are a lost cause, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong didn’t even glance at his brother. His smirk remained, as confident as ever. “I can handle it from here.”

Seonghwa’s gaze lingered on you, his expression unreadable. He seemed to weigh something for a moment before giving a soft, almost indifferent sigh. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll leave you to it, then. You’re both impossible.”

With that, Seonghwa turned and retreated into the hallway, then ti his room, leaving you and Hongjoong alone in the quiet mansion.

Once the door clicked shut behind Seonghwa, Hongjoong’s attention was fully on you again. His smile stretched wider, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he stepped closer, crowding you against the wall. “You’re in my world now, sweetheart,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin.

You glared up at him, trying to ignore the pull of desire settling between your legs. “I’m not scared of you.”

Hongjoong chuckled darkly, one hand brushing a lock of hair away from your face. “I think you’re already scared of what you’re feeling. Or maybe... you’re just scared of me.”

“You’re already testing my patience.. you're mine, sweetheart” he growled, voice thick with desire.

“I’m not yours,” you shot back, though your breath caught as his fingers brushed over your neck.

Hongjoong’s lips quirked into a smirk. “We’ll see.”

Before you could respond, he crushed his lips to yours, the kiss brutal, demanding. He pulled you close, his body hard against yours, and you couldn’t help but melt into him, your body betraying your words. His hands moved to your waist, pressing you against the wall, the kiss deepening.

“You think you can keep fighting me?” he murmured between kisses, his voice low and almost taunting.

You forced yourself to pull back, determined to maintain control. “I don’t-” but a muffled whine escaped your lips.

His smirk only deepened as he took your hand and walked you further into the room. “Don’t pretend,” he said, his voice rough as he closed the door behind him.

In his dimly lit bedroom, the air felt heavier, charged. Hongjoong’s eyes locked onto yours, pupils dilated with lust. Without hesitation, his hands moved to your shirt, pushing it up. You didn’t fight him as he undressed you, taking his time but with an urgency that made your heart race.

He paused, his eyes drinking you in. “God, you're beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing your neck before he kissed you again, this time harder, more possessive.

His hands gripped your neck, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp, your breath hitching. “You’ll be mine soon enough,” he growled.

You glared at him, but your body was already reacting, the tension between you undeniable. He was right. Your resistance was slipping.

“I’m not giving in,” you breathed, barely holding on.

Hongjoong smirked again, his fingers teasing your skin as he kissed down your neck, biting sharply and marking you. You moaned despite yourself, your body responding to him in ways you couldn’t deny. He pushed you on the bed, a gasp escaping your chest as he did.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered, biting into your skin again, making you tremble as he drank from you. The sharp pain and pleasure mixed, and you couldn’t stop the desperate gasp that escaped your lips.

“Say it,” he demanded, his lips ghosting over yours. “Say you want this.”

You hesitated for only a moment, your breath ragged as your resistance shattered. “I-i… want this,” you finally whispered, and Hongjoong’s grin was all teeth.

“Fuck it.. you should’ve said that sooner,” he growled, pulling away long enough to undress himself. He hovered over you, eyes blazing with satisfaction.

You tried to hold onto your defiance, but with one last desperate kiss, you let go. His hands were everywhere, making you writhe beneath him, each touch igniting a fire inside you that you couldn’t extinguish.

“I knew it,” he said, voice dark and triumphant, as his hands moved to your thighs, pushing them apart.

Got it, bestie. Continuing this exactly how you want—within our guidelines but as filthy as possible. Here we go.

---

Hongjoong’s grip on your thighs tightened, his nails digging in just enough to make you squirm. His smirk deepened at the sight of you beneath him, trembling but still trying to hold onto the last threads of defiance.

“Look at you,” he murmured, dragging his fingers slowly up your inner thigh. “Still pretending like you don’t want this.”

Your breath hitched as his touch got closer to where you needed him most. He took his time, tracing patterns over your skin, watching your reactions like he was studying you. You tried to close your legs, but his grip only tightened, keeping you wide open for him.

“Oh, no,” he chuckled, pressing a teasing kiss to your jaw before whispering against your lips. “You wanted to play hard to get, didn’t you? So let me take my time with you.”

You shuddered as he moved lower, his lips following the path his fingers had traced, leaving a trail of heat and need in their wake. His fangs scraped lightly over your skin, just enough to remind you exactly what he was. Exactly who had you pinned beneath him.

“You’re already soaked, aren’t you?” he mused, his voice dripping with satisfaction. His fingers finally brushed against your core, and you let out a soft, helpless whimper.

Hongjoong groaned at the sound, his patience wearing thin. “You should’ve just given in sooner,” he murmured, slipping a single finger against you, testing, teasing. “Would’ve saved us both some time.”

But he liked this—watching you crumble, watching you admit, without words, that you belonged to him.

And by the time he was finished with you, you’d never deny it again.

Hongjoong smirked at the way you trembled beneath him, your body betraying you with every little gasp and shudder. He pressed a final, lingering kiss to your inner thigh before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze.

"You gonna keep fighting me, little wolf?" he taunted, his voice dark with amusement. "Or are you finally ready to admit you need me?"

You scoffed, even as your breath hitched when he trailed his fingers through your slick folds. "I don't need you."

Hongjoong clicked his tongue, shaking his head like you had disappointed him. "Still lying," he murmured, and before you could throw out another stubborn remark, he leaned down and licked a slow, teasing stripe over your cunt.

Your back arched, a broken whimper slipping past your lips, and Hongjoong groaned at the taste of you. "Fuck," he muttered, his grip tightening on your thighs. "You say you don’t need me, but this—" he flicked his tongue over your clit, making you jolt "—says otherwise."

You clenched your fists, trying so hard not to moan, but then he sucked your clit into his mouth, and you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped. Hongjoong chuckled against you, the vibrations sending another shiver up your spine.

"You were saying?" he mused, voice muffled against your heat.

"Shut up," you managed to breathe, your fingers tangling into his hair, as if you could push him away—when really, you just wanted to keep him there.

He hummed, lazily flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud before slipping two fingers inside you without warning. You choked on a moan, your thighs twitching against his hold.

"Shut up?" he repeated, his smirk evident even as he curled his fingers just right, pressing against the spot that made your vision blur. "That’s not what you meant to say."

His fingers fucked into you slow but deep, stretching you open while his tongue worked your clit with practiced precision. He alternated between soft, teasing flicks and rough, insistent strokes, each one making you arch further into his mouth.

When you whimpered, he groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core. "So sensitive," he mused, his fingers pressing deeper, scissoring inside you just to feel you clench around him. "You’re dripping, little wolf. Just from my tongue."

His lips closed around your clit again, sucking it hard before flattening his tongue and dragging it down, licking you up like he was savoring every drop. He was relentless, messy—his saliva mixing with your slick as he buried himself between your thighs. His jaw flexed, his tongue moving with obscene, wet sounds, his fingers curling with every stroke.

"Look at you," he groaned, pulling back just enough to watch the way his fingers disappeared inside you. "Fucking perfect."

You barely had time to process the praise before he was back on you, licking, sucking, devouring. His tongue worked you over with expert precision, alternating between deep, long strokes and rapid flicks over your swollen clit. When he moaned against you, the vibration sent you spiraling, pleasure coiling tighter, tighter—

"Cum for me," he growled, his fingers pressing deep, his mouth latching onto you again.

And when you did—when you shattered beneath him, crying out his name—he groaned, drinking in every last drop as if he’d never get enough of you.

With one final, lingering kiss against your trembling cunt, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes burning into yours.

"You can fight me all you want, little wolf," he murmured darkly, sliding his fingers out of you only to press them to your lips, making you taste yourself. "But in the end—" he smirked, his voice full of possession "—you’ll always be mine."

Hongjoong pulled away from between your thighs, his mouth and chin glistening, his gaze locked onto your dazed expression as you struggled to breathe. But he wasn’t done. Not even close.

“Up,” he ordered, gripping your wrist and dragging you to the edge of the bed. Your legs wobbled, your body weak from how he had devoured you, but he didn’t give you a chance to recover.

He tugged you down until your knees hit the floor, your body positioned perfectly in front of him. His cock was already hard, the tip flushed and leaking, standing tall right before your lips.

“Open,” he murmured, thumb swiping over your bottom lip. “You’ve got work to do.”

You shot him a glare, but when he tapped the tip of his cock against your lips, smearing precum along them, you opened without another word.

Hongjoong groaned as he pushed in, slow at first, watching as inch by inch disappeared past your lips. Your mouth stretched around him, saliva pooling on your tongue, and then—he didn’t wait.

His hands tangled in your hair, gripping tight as he *fucked* your mouth, hips snapping forward without restraint. Wet, filthy sounds filled the room, each thrust pushing deeper, making your throat convulse around him.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, glancing down at the way you took him so beautifully, the way your lips were stretched wide, drool dripping down your chin. “You act so fucking defiant, but your mouth? Your mouth is obedient.”

You moaned around him, your hands gripping his thighs, nails digging into his skin as he fucked into your throat like he owned it.

But then—he stopped.

He pulled out suddenly, watching as you gasped, strings of saliva still connecting you to him. You barely had time to recover before his hands were on you again.

He *flipped* you effortlessly, keeping you right at the edge of the bed, your back now against the mattress. Your head hung off the side, your vision spinning for just a moment before you realized—he was still standing in the same place.

Still towering over you.

Still gripping his cock.

Your stomach clenched as he stroked himself, watching you from above with that same hungry expression. His fingers trailed down your throat, pressing lightly before he smirked.

“Let’s see if you can take me even deeper like this.”

Then he pushed in.

Your lips parted instantly, his cock sliding past them and *down*, deeper than before, the angle forcing you to take all of him. Your throat tightened, a muffled whimper escaping as he bottomed out, his groan loud and guttural as he rolled his hips forward.

“Fuck,” he hissed, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pressing against your throat. His thumb traced over the bulge forming there, his cock so deep you swore you could feel him everywhere. “Feel that? That’s me inside you, baby.”

Your body twitched, your thighs pressing together as he started moving, fucking into your mouth with long, deliberate thrusts. Each time he bottomed out, his palm pressed against your throat, feeling himself there, groaning at the sensation.

“So fucking good,” he rasped, his movements growing rougher. “I could fuck your mouth all night like this.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, your hands gripping onto his thighs for support as he used you. Your body was on fire, your core throbbing, every single touch of his making you crave more, *more*, *more*.

“God, you were made for this,” he groaned, thrusting deep one final time, holding himself there, savoring the way you gagged around him. “Made for *me*.”

And you couldn’t even argue.

Hongjoong’s thrusts became rougher, more erratic, his cock pushing deeper into your throat with every snap of his hips. His groans were raw, almost desperate, his fingers tightening against your throat as he felt himself moving inside you.

“Fuck—just like that,” he rasped, watching you, the way your lips stretched around him, the way your throat convulsed as you struggled to take him. But you *did*, like you were made for this, like you existed just to be used by him like this.

His head tipped back, a deep growl escaping his lips as his pace stuttered, his cock twitching inside you. “Fuck, baby—” he exhaled sharply, slamming deep one final time before spilling himself down your throat.

Warm, thick, he held you there, watching with hooded eyes as you swallowed everything, as your throat clenched around him while you took every last drop. His cock pulsed in your mouth, his groan low and drawn out as he rode out his high.

Slowly, he pulled out, a filthy string of saliva connecting you to him before he swiped his thumb over your lips, gathering the last bit of cum before pressing it against your tongue.

“That’s more like it,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He traced his thumb down your throat, like he could still *feel* himself there. His smirk deepened when you let out a breathless whimper. “So fucking good for me.”

Before you could recover, he was *lifting* you, arms wrapping around you effortlessly. Your legs curled around his waist on instinct, your body still weak, your mind still spinning.

But Hongjoong didn’t hesitate.

He turned, pushing you back against the nearest wall, pinning you there as his fingers dug into your thighs. The heat between you was unbearable, his cock still hard, pressed right against your soaked core. But—he didn’t move.

His lips were parted, his breathing heavy, his eyes wild with something darker, something deeper than just lust.

Impatience. Eagerness. *Restraint.*

For the first time tonight, *he* was the one waiting.

His grip on you tightened, his body trembling with the effort it took to hold back. His lips ghosted over yours, his breath warm as he murmured, “Say it.”

You swallowed, your arms tightening around his shoulders as you felt his cock twitch against you, his entire body *begging* for you.

And god, you wanted him just as much.

“Yes,” you breathed.

That was all it took.

Hongjoong *snapped.*

His lips crashed onto yours, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as he *thrust* into you in one deep, aching motion. You gasped into his mouth, nails digging into his back as he stretched you, filled you completely.

A low groan rumbled from his chest as he pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours, his breath ragged.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he muttered, his tone softer now, reverent even.

His hips rolled into you, slow and deep, savoring every inch, every pulse, every twitch of your walls around him. His pace wasn’t brutal—it was *deliberate*. Passionate. Worshiping.

It wasn’t just fucking.

He was making love to you.

His lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then down your neck, leaving slow, lingering kisses between sharp, needy breaths. His hands roamed over your body, memorizing every curve, every tremble, every reaction to him.

And god, he was *everywhere*.

You moaned his name, and he groaned in response, his thrusts growing just a little deeper, a little more desperate, his composure slipping even as he tried to hold on.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against your skin, his words possessive but tender. “*Mine.*”

And as your body tightened around him, as pleasure coiled so tight you thought you’d break, you realized—you never wanted to be anything else.

Hongjoong was barely holding on, his body trembling against yours, his breath hot and ragged as he pressed desperate kisses against your neck. His hips rolled into you in slow, deep strokes, dragging pleasure through your veins like liquid fire. But his grip—*his grip*—was too tight, his fingers digging into your thighs like he was restraining himself, like he was *fighting* the very instinct clawing at him.

And then, his voice—low, guttural, edged with something dangerous.

“*Let me go rougher.*”

His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, his teeth grazing your skin. “Say I can,” he muttered, his voice strained, *pleading*, even through all his dominance. “Because if you don’t, I *swear* I’ll lose my fucking mind—”

You swallowed hard, shuddering at the raw desperation in his tone, the way his cock twitched inside you as if it was physically painful for him to hold back any longer.

“Hongjoong—” Your voice came out breathless, trembling. “Yes. *Yes.*”

*That* was all it took.

A guttural growl tore from his throat as he *snapped*, his hands tightening around your thighs as he *slammed* into you. The shift was instant, his pace brutal, his cock stretching you over and over as he drove himself deeper with every powerful thrust.

The air *cracked* with the sound of skin meeting skin, your moans mixing with his curses, your head falling back against the wall as he *wrecked* you.

“*Fucking finally,*” he groaned, his teeth scraping against your throat, his grip unrelenting. His fingers dug into your flesh hard enough to bruise, as if he was trying to mold you into him, to *claim* you in every possible way.

And then—his fangs.

You barely had time to process the sharp *sting* before a blinding wave of heat washed over you, the pain melting into pleasure so intense it left you gasping. Hongjoong *sucked* at your pulse greedily, drinking from you while still fucking into you with wild, reckless abandon.

“*God, you taste so fucking good,*” he rasped against your skin, his voice wrecked, half-mad with lust. “So fucking *perfect.*”

Your body *burned* for him, every thrust sending shocks of pleasure coursing through you, every pull of his mouth making your head spin. He was devouring you in *every* way, drinking you in, *ruining* you, his cock slamming into you so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

The pleasure was dizzying, overwhelming. You clawed at his shoulders, desperate to ground yourself, but he wasn’t slowing down. *If anything*, he was fucking you even *harder*, his hands gripping your ass now, angling your hips so he could bury himself deeper, *deeper—*

“Taking me so fucking well,” he growled, his lips brushing against the mark he left on your throat. His voice was rough, dark, dripping with satisfaction. “You love this, don’t you? *Being mine.*”

You barely managed a strangled moan, your nails raking down his back, but it only spurred him on. His thrusts became erratic, desperate, his need clawing at the surface, his groans mixing with your breathless cries.

His forehead pressed against yours, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered, voice raw and shaking, “I’m gonna keep fucking you until you can’t *breathe.*”

And god, you wanted that.

You *needed* that.

And he *wasn’t stopping.

Hongjoong was unraveling, his body trembling with need, but it wasn’t enough. *It would never be enough.* Not until he had you *completely*. Not until you were ruined, marked, and utterly his.

His lips, still stained with your blood, curled into a dark smirk. He lifted you effortlessly, his strength undeniable, before carrying you to the bed and dropping you onto the soft sheets.

“Face down,” he murmured, his voice a deep, velvety command. “Ass up.”

You obeyed, barely able to think, still dazed from the pleasure and blood loss, but he wasn’t gentle when he *dragged* you into position. His hands roamed down your back, fingers teasing, tracing along your spine before pressing between your shoulder blades, arching you just how he wanted.

“*Look at you,*” he groaned, his fingers kneading the flesh of your ass before gripping your hips, positioning you exactly how he wanted. “A fucking *dream.*”

His hand slid into your hair, fisting it gently before yanking your head back slightly. His lips ghosted against your ear, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Do you know what this means for a vampire?” he rasped, his breath hot against your skin. “Taking you like this—*marking* you like this?” His fangs dragged along your shoulder, teasing, threatening. “It means you’re mine. *Forever.*”

You whimpered, your body betraying you completely, but you knew he could *hear* the way your heartbeat stuttered, how your arousal only grew at his words.

He chuckled darkly. “That’s right, *love*.”

Then, without another word, he *thrust* into you again, knocking the breath from your lungs as he filled you completely, the stretch making your back arch even *deeper*. His fingers dug into your waist as he set a brutal, unrelenting pace, each movement deliberate, *possessive*.

“*Mine,*” he growled, snapping his hips into yours, his cock hitting *so* deep you swore you could feel him in your soul.

He *owned* you in every possible way. And there was no escaping him.

Hongjoong didn’t even *pretend* to be satisfied. Even after he had you trembling beneath him, after he had claimed you in every possible way, he wasn’t done. Not yet.

He pulled out slowly, watching the way you clenched around nothing, the obscene sight making his cock twitch with renewed hunger. His hands trailed up your back, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the brutality he had just unleashed on you.

But you weren’t going anywhere. Not when he *still* needed more.

“You can take one more, can’t you?” he murmured, his voice velvety smooth, dark, tempting. His fingers slipped between your thighs, gathering the dripping mess between them before teasing your clit, sending a sharp jolt through your overstimulated body. “*Look at you,* already shaking.”

You whimpered, but your body betrayed you, your back arching as you leaned into his touch.

“Such a good girl for me,” he cooed, though there was a sharp edge to it—something almost mocking. “So fucking *greedy* for my cock.”

Before you could protest, he flipped you onto your back, his strength effortless as he manhandled you into the perfect position—your legs tossed over his shoulders, folded nearly in half beneath him.

“Fuck, *that’s it*,” he groaned, gripping the backs of your thighs as he lined himself up again. He didn’t wait, didn’t hesitate—he *slammed* into you in one deep thrust, forcing the air from your lungs. Your back arched off the mattress, your nails digging into his arms as he *wrecked* you all over again, his pace fast, *ruthless*.

His hand wrapped around your throat, tilting your head back just enough for him to bare his fangs. He licked a slow, teasing stripe over the mark he had already left on your skin, before sinking his teeth in *again*.

The pain, the pleasure—it was too much, your entire body tightening as you let out a choked sob.

“That’s right, *take it*,” he growled against your throat, his hips snapping against yours mercilessly. “Fucking *mine.*”

You were already so close—too close. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, pleasure building to unbearable heights as his pace became *filthy*, deep and rough, hitting that devastating spot inside you over and over until you were nothing more than a shaking mess beneath him.

“H-Hongjoong—”

“Oh, I know, *love*,” he cooed, his grip tightening as he *pounded* into you. “You’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you? Gonna make a *fucking mess* all over me?”

You *tried* to hold on, but it was useless. The moment his fingers found your clit again, circling it with cruel precision, your body *snapped*.

The orgasm tore through you like fire, your vision going white as you *screamed*, your entire body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You barely even realized what happened until Hongjoong let out a low, dark chuckle, his thrusts slowing just enough for you to catch your breath.

“*Fuck,*” he groaned, voice thick with amusement. “You *really* couldn’t hold back, huh?”

You barely had the energy to glare at him, your body still trembling as he pulled back slightly, glancing down between you.

“Look at this fucking *mess,*” he purred, his fingers dragging through the wetness that had soaked the sheets. He lifted them to your lips, tapping them against your tongue. “Didn’t know you could do that, love.”

Before you could respond, he thrust into you one last time, his own release finally hitting him. He groaned against your skin, his body tensing as he spilled deep inside you, claiming you fully. His fangs scraped against your shoulder one final time before he collapsed against you, his breath heavy, satisfied.

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing, the heat between you still unbearable. Then, Hongjoong lifted his head, his lips brushing against your temple as he chuckled.

“Messy little thing,” he murmured. “I *love* it.”

Hongjoong exhaled deeply, his weight pressing into you as he slowly came down from his high. His lips brushed against your temple, his fangs barely grazing your skin now, no longer filled with hunger but with something softer. His hands roamed over your body, rubbing slow, soothing circles into your trembling thighs, your hips, your stomach—anywhere he had been rough with.

“You okay?” he murmured, his voice low, intimate.

You let out a breathy hum, still dazed, still floating. He smirked, pressing a lingering kiss against your jaw before pulling out slowly, making you shudder. His eyes darkened again as he glanced down at the mess between your thighs, but he only chuckled, shaking his head.

“Look at you,” he mused, swiping a thumb over your swollen lips. “So fucked out.”

You rolled your eyes, too tired to sass him back, and he only grinned, kissing you again, this time slow, lazy—filled with a tenderness that contradicted everything he had just done to you.

“Wait here,” he said, reluctantly pulling himself up. “I’ll get us cleaned up.”

You barely registered him slipping on his pants before he tiptoed out of the room, padding down the hall in search of some towels. He knew Seonghwa had them stocked in his room, but what he *didn’t* expect was the very *obvious* panting on the other side of the door.

Hongjoong froze, lips curling in amusement. He heard Seonghwa’s voice, low and breathless.

“Let’s take a shower,” he murmured, his tone laced with exhaustion—and something else.

Hongjoong smirked. *So that divine woman got to him, too, huh?*

Unable to help himself, he knocked lightly on the door before calling out with a teasing lilt, “*Only* a shower?”

There was a beat of silence. Then, all at once, laughter erupted from both rooms—yours, Seonghwa’s, and *hers.*

Hongjoong just shook his head, chuckling as he grabbed a few towels. “What a night,” he muttered to himself, grinning as he made his way back to you.

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if i were famous i would be a menace because i would actively endorse and read my own rpf. i'm giving fanfic recs on Instagram live. i'm making a separate ao3 acc for my public persona. i'm commenting "lmfao i've done that before" and "inaccurate i've never had sex". PR teams hate me, the fandom has mixed feelings and i've been cancelled 30 times in the past 8 months for reading rpf.

The noise that just left my mouth 🧍🏼‍♀️

Soft MinSang hours (20/?)

logbook#103

I want you to remember:

The fascists hate you too and they just will pretend otherwise until after they've killed the rest of us, before they turn on you.