Ship/Member: Mingyu/Seokmin Major Tags: explicit sexual content, possible MCD Additional Tags: ghost sex, possibly dream sex, sex illusion, historical au, King Seokmin, Mingyu is an unidentifiable entity Permission to remix: Please ask WC 570
A/N: The tags mostly cover all the things to look out for. I didn't tag dubcon because Seokmin is quite an eager participant, but I'm also unsure whether you can give your active consent to a ghost/entity you cannot see, so please tread ahead bearing that in mind. Sorry for bastardizing your baby, Vee. ***
Seokmin wakes with a start and finds his chambers plunged into darkness.
The moon shines high in the sky outside and when Seokmin feels around for the candle on his bedside , the heat stings his fingertips—half of it is still standing.
Seokmin doesn’t have to investigate what put out its fire. He can already sense it in the air, gripping the sheets next to his ankles, pressing down on his pillows.
It seems neither death nor magic can diminish the way Seokmin’s body intrinsically knows what is about to happen—it has been many, many years since Seokmin last touched Kim Mingyu but not a day has gone by when he forgot what it felt like.
He is disrobed with an urgency characteristic of a desperation only the most vicious of partings can bring, and he allows it—helps even, raising his back when fingers trace his spine and curling his knees closer when a gust of air closes in on his feet.
He’s trembling by the time he’s laid bare on his sheets, a strange mix of nostalgia and anticipation—a desire for all the things he’s put to death with his own bare hands. It’s not fear though. Fear would mean Seokmin’s dagger missed its mark—and it didn’t.
Seokmin doesn’t regret stabbing Mingyu. He regrets letting him escape alive.
He suddenly gasps, as he feels his breath choked out of him, and it takes him a few seconds too long to realise he is being kissed to within an inch of his life—quite literally and with intent.
He lets his hands hook onto what looks like thin air and leverages upwards, pushing back until he’s sitting up. His lungs swell like a balloon in his chest, each moment that he spends unwilling to part from the kiss lengthening the strain on it until it pops and he’s heaving mouthfuls of air.
But it’s not enough because he leans back for more—and gets what he wants without a fight. Maybe they’re both willing to die for this kiss…maybe death only aggravates the agonies that one hopes to leave behind with the living.
Before he is overpowered again, he grinds his hips upwards hoping to meet with some resistance. When he does, he grinds up again and again, until he can almost imagine Mingyu resting against Seokmin’s collarbone, nosing his way up Seokmin’s throat as Seokmin took his time driving MIngyu to the edge.
It’s a damn shame Seokmin can’t see his face. Mingyu always did blush so prettily when he was being taken apart.
His momentary distraction unarms him and Seokmin finds himself on his back again, looking up into nothingness and waiting for the inevitable.
Maybe he will wake up tomorrow and realise this was all a dream, wished up by memories Seokmin had learnt to bury every night that his father called for his company. Maybe he’ll wake up with no memory of the darkness touching him at all—Mingyu had always been powerful and who knew what he was become capable of, in the years that he had spent biding his time and slinking into corners of the kingdom that always evaded Seokmin’s reach.
But for now, all Seokmin cares to deal with is the night, and its shadow—perched as it was on his hip.
Seokmin sighs, letting his eyes fall shut, and an all-too-familiar warmth finally engulfs him.
[REMIX] every lover's got a little dagger in their hand
Major Tags: explicit sexual content, possible MCD
Additional Tags: ghost sex, possibly dream sex, sex illusion, historical au, King Seokmin, Mingyu is an unidentifiable entity
Permission to remix: Please ask
WC 570
A/N: The tags mostly cover all the things to look out for. I didn't tag dubcon because Seokmin is quite an eager participant, but I'm also unsure whether you can give your active consent to a ghost/entity you cannot see, so please tread ahead bearing that in mind. Sorry for bastardizing your baby, Vee.
***
Seokmin wakes with a start and finds his chambers plunged into darkness.
The moon shines high in the sky outside and when Seokmin feels around for the candle on his bedside , the heat stings his fingertips—half of it is still standing.
Seokmin doesn’t have to investigate what put out its fire. He can already sense it in the air, gripping the sheets next to his ankles, pressing down on his pillows.
It seems neither death nor magic can diminish the way Seokmin’s body intrinsically knows what is about to happen—it has been many, many years since Seokmin last touched Kim Mingyu but not a day has gone by when he forgot what it felt like.
He is disrobed with an urgency characteristic of a desperation only the most vicious of partings can bring, and he allows it—helps even, raising his back when fingers trace his spine and curling his knees closer when a gust of air closes in on his feet.
He’s trembling by the time he’s laid bare on his sheets, a strange mix of nostalgia and anticipation—a desire for all the things he’s put to death with his own bare hands. It’s not fear though. Fear would mean Seokmin’s dagger missed its mark—and it didn’t.
Seokmin doesn’t regret stabbing Mingyu. He regrets letting him escape alive.
He suddenly gasps, as he feels his breath choked out of him, and it takes him a few seconds too long to realise he is being kissed to within an inch of his life—quite literally and with intent.
He lets his hands hook onto what looks like thin air and leverages upwards, pushing back until he’s sitting up. His lungs swell like a balloon in his chest, each moment that he spends unwilling to part from the kiss lengthening the strain on it until it pops and he’s heaving mouthfuls of air.
But it’s not enough because he leans back for more—and gets what he wants without a fight. Maybe they’re both willing to die for this kiss…maybe death only aggravates the agonies that one hopes to leave behind with the living.
Before he is overpowered again, he grinds his hips upwards hoping to meet with some resistance. When he does, he grinds up again and again, until he can almost imagine Mingyu resting against Seokmin’s collarbone, nosing his way up Seokmin’s throat as Seokmin took his time driving MIngyu to the edge.
It’s a damn shame Seokmin can’t see his face. Mingyu always did blush so prettily when he was being taken apart.
His momentary distraction unarms him and Seokmin finds himself on his back again, looking up into nothingness and waiting for the inevitable.
Maybe he will wake up tomorrow and realise this was all a dream, wished up by memories Seokmin had learnt to bury every night that his father called for his company. Maybe he’ll wake up with no memory of the darkness touching him at all—Mingyu had always been powerful and who knew what he was become capable of, in the years that he had spent biding his time and slinking into corners of the kingdom that always evaded Seokmin’s reach.
But for now, all Seokmin cares to deal with is the night, and its shadow—perched as it was on his hip.
Seokmin sighs, letting his eyes fall shut, and an all-too-familiar warmth finally engulfs him.