Ship/Member: Mingyu/Jeonghan Major Tags: slightly dubious Additional Tags: gunplay; knifeplay; threat of murder; not safe not sane i guess it's consensual; mild sexual content; toxic4toxic; this is perhaps the most insane thing i have ever written sorry Permission to remix: No
ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. sorry
***
"Do it," Jeonghan challenges. Teeth gritted, his voice squeezes out in a hiss. “Kill me, or I’ll kill you.”
The pressure on Jeonghan’s windpipe is only now starting to become uncomfortable. Guilt lives behind the eyes of the would-be assailant, a readily exploitable factor that Jeonghan has one steel fist sunken into. The knife at his throat stings at his ego more than anything.
It is hardly the first time that Jeonghan has been held down in this bed—his bed, their bed—with a knife to his throat.
Jeonghan sneers again. “Do it.” One of the slices sting as he bares his throat further, his gaze glacial. “Kill me and I'll fucking haunt you until you die."
At the final word, Mingyu loses his nerve and springs backward onto his heels. The hesitation is advantageous, though typical. Mingyu does little to shield his soft center when Jeonghan moves upright. Half his size and yet Mingyu crumbles the moment Jeonghan goes on the offense. His wrist snaps back easily, weapon changing hands as Jeonghan flips them with one easy shove.
Pinning Mingyu’s wrists back isn’t triumphant. It feels like another lesson, and Jeonghan is quite tired of teaching.
"Sweetheart."
Jeonghan’s face fixes into a deceptive calm that masks the bubbling rage inside of him. There are ways better than physical threats to retrain a dog.
“What exactly did you think was going to happen, trying to spring on me?”
The knife handle is warm in Jeonghan's palm, the sharp blade of it capped in his own blood. Were he a crueler man, he’d press the blunt handle along the pulse of Mingyu’s carotid artery, tease the line he’d cut open. A warning shot before opening fire.
Instead, his fingers flex around the weight.
Mingyu glares up at him, eyes more malicious than he’s ever seen them. "Oh please," he snarls, wriggling under Jeonghan’s thighs. “You wouldn't—”
A solitary heartbeat passes before Jeonghan slashes out and a scream follows. Unable to shield himself quick enough, Mingyu presses his slashed cheek against his shoulder. Red stains the white linen, stains his cheek with a ruby tear track pouring from an angry gash.
It's not deep enough to scar, but the meaning is blatant, like a bullet to the back, just to the left of the spine.
Swallowing any of his own guilt, Jeonghan laughs, low and cruel.
"Maybe I wouldn’t.” But I could.
Any remaining tenacity has been wrung out of Mingyu for now, his usual placid demeanor pushing to the forefront. His eyebrows knit, frustrated.
“I wasn’t trying to kill you.” Fear edges through the defensiveness. Jeonghan doesn’t believe him.
His open palms lay flat under Jeonghan’s grip, pressed against the pillows overhead in surrender.
The knife drops to the floor handle-first with a quiet thunk. It takes Jeonghan’s resolve and patience with it, pinned to the ground under the weighted hilt. Anger swells like a riptide. Not at Mingyu, despite. At himself for leaving his weakness wide open. His aching heart pounds.
Then, Jeonghan’s fingers close around the grip of the .45 hidden underneath his side table.
Mingyu’s eyes fly open wide in concern. “You can't be serious.”
Jeonghan drops his stance, annoyed. His head tilts to the side, bangs falling over one eye like a dark curtain. Exasperation squares his shoulders. “Do I look like I'm joking?”
Alarm overtakes Mingyu’s handsome face. He can hear the droning sirens in Mingyu’s head heighten into a primal scream when the gun drops onto the mattress between them.
“Besides. If you killed me, then who would have you?” Jeonghan continues as if Mingyu had said nothing at all. A hand finds its way to the nape of Mingyu’s neck, playing at the fine hairs there. He kisses Mingyu then, soft as a breeze. His other hand follows the line of buttons down Mingyu's chest.
“Haven’t I told you before? You die,” Jeonghan smiles against Mingyu’s lips, feeling them wobble. Another kiss, deeper this time, more firm. The buttons come undone, thin fabric of Mingyu's shirt slipping between his fingers. “When I die.”
Mingyu hesitates in kissing back, his mouth suddenly soft compared to the hardened frown lines that tightened his face just minutes prior. He takes the gun from between them numbly, fingers wrapping around the grip. The weapon hangs idly next to Jeonghan’s hip.
In that moment, it's nothing more than a weight in Mingyu's flexed fist. Moonlight catches them, casting Mingyu's face in a warm glow. Always stunning no matter what light hits him, a startling mix of fondness and aching surges through Jeonghan’s chest.
Pulse beating steady in his chest, Jeonghan wraps a hand around the barrel and brings it under his chin.
“So kill me if you want.”
Resting his chin on the sight, Jeonghan watches him closely. The anger residing in Mingyu’s eyes burns a brilliant red darker than the blood dried on his cheek. Jaw clenched, he sets the gun aside long enough to divest Jeonghan of his shirt.
“Ask me anything.”
“I have nothing to ask of you,” Mingyu lies, mouth firm.
Electric currents spark through the air between them. From the moment Mingyu touched a blade to Jeonghan’s throat, the room has been charged, threatening to blow them apart.
Jeonghan considers speaking again, then he hears the safety click, sudden clarity in the silence. The cool tip drags down the ridges of Jeonghan’s ribs, pulling the skin and leaving indents in the shape of the opening. He imagines it white-hot, the barrel branding him after the first shot.
Mingyu finally speaks again. “It’s either you or me. And it won’t be me.”
Sweat has started to bead at Mingyu’s brow. Jeonghan wonders if he'll be brave enough to remove the safety, to end his life.
The gun glints between them. Jeonghan’s blood sings underneath the surface, a song made only for this moment.
“Anything else?” Jeonghan asks. He reaches behind him to massage Mingyu through the fabric of his pants.
Unsurprisingly, he’s hard. A cruel smile spreads on his lips.
The reaction is instantaneous, the body underneath him locking before melting under Jeonghan’s deft touch. He doesn't make much headway before Mingyu forces his weight into Jeonghan and hauls them to the foot of the bed.
Sometimes invulnerability makes Jeonghan feel like a god. But Jeonghan is not a god, and loyalties crumble like sandcastles. Mingyu doesn't kiss him on the mouth, shifting to biting at Jeonghan’s exposed skin instead.
Mingyu moves, ripping their remaining clothing to the floor. The gun rests heavy on Jeonghan’s chest. It feels like an anchor holding him to the bed.
Jeonghan’s pulse skyrockets to a dizzying pace, head barely keeping above water. “Is that the best you can do?” he challenges, lips still curled in a cruel smile.
Mingyu laughs, a dark sound. “Shut up.” The gun clicks as he moves it. “Open your fucking mouth.”
Mingyu pushes the barrel past Jeonghan’s lips. The front sight catches on his top lip. Mingyu groans.
The corners of Jeonghan’s eyelids prick with tears, but he refuses to let them fall. Instead, he slides his head forward to take the gun deeper into his mouth, guiding the tip into the inside of his cheek. Heat floods everywhere, in his jaw working around the gun, in his flushed face, in his chest, in Mingyu's hungered gaze.
Mingyu pulls the weapon out then with a soft groan, replacing it with his tongue. Mouth warm and open, he pants into Jeonghan, stealing every breath. “You’re fucking insane.”
[FILL] you wanna ____ me right now
Major Tags: slightly dubious
Additional Tags: gunplay; knifeplay; threat of murder; not safe not sane i guess it's consensual; mild sexual content; toxic4toxic; this is perhaps the most insane thing i have ever written sorry
Permission to remix: No
ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. sorry
***
"Do it," Jeonghan challenges. Teeth gritted, his voice squeezes out in a hiss. “Kill me, or I’ll kill you.”
The pressure on Jeonghan’s windpipe is only now starting to become uncomfortable. Guilt lives behind the eyes of the would-be assailant, a readily exploitable factor that Jeonghan has one steel fist sunken into. The knife at his throat stings at his ego more than anything.
It is hardly the first time that Jeonghan has been held down in this bed—his bed, their bed—with a knife to his throat.
Jeonghan sneers again. “Do it.” One of the slices sting as he bares his throat further, his gaze glacial. “Kill me and I'll fucking haunt you until you die."
At the final word, Mingyu loses his nerve and springs backward onto his heels. The hesitation is advantageous, though typical. Mingyu does little to shield his soft center when Jeonghan moves upright. Half his size and yet Mingyu crumbles the moment Jeonghan goes on the offense. His wrist snaps back easily, weapon changing hands as Jeonghan flips them with one easy shove.
Pinning Mingyu’s wrists back isn’t triumphant. It feels like another lesson, and Jeonghan is quite tired of teaching.
"Sweetheart."
Jeonghan’s face fixes into a deceptive calm that masks the bubbling rage inside of him. There are ways better than physical threats to retrain a dog.
“What exactly did you think was going to happen, trying to spring on me?”
The knife handle is warm in Jeonghan's palm, the sharp blade of it capped in his own blood. Were he a crueler man, he’d press the blunt handle along the pulse of Mingyu’s carotid artery, tease the line he’d cut open. A warning shot before opening fire.
Instead, his fingers flex around the weight.
Mingyu glares up at him, eyes more malicious than he’s ever seen them. "Oh please," he snarls, wriggling under Jeonghan’s thighs. “You wouldn't—”
A solitary heartbeat passes before Jeonghan slashes out and a scream follows. Unable to shield himself quick enough, Mingyu presses his slashed cheek against his shoulder. Red stains the white linen, stains his cheek with a ruby tear track pouring from an angry gash.
It's not deep enough to scar, but the meaning is blatant, like a bullet to the back, just to the left of the spine.
Swallowing any of his own guilt, Jeonghan laughs, low and cruel.
"Maybe I wouldn’t.” But I could.
Any remaining tenacity has been wrung out of Mingyu for now, his usual placid demeanor pushing to the forefront. His eyebrows knit, frustrated.
“I wasn’t trying to kill you.” Fear edges through the defensiveness. Jeonghan doesn’t believe him.
His open palms lay flat under Jeonghan’s grip, pressed against the pillows overhead in surrender.
The knife drops to the floor handle-first with a quiet thunk. It takes Jeonghan’s resolve and patience with it, pinned to the ground under the weighted hilt. Anger swells like a riptide. Not at Mingyu, despite. At himself for leaving his weakness wide open. His aching heart pounds.
Then, Jeonghan’s fingers close around the grip of the .45 hidden underneath his side table.
Mingyu’s eyes fly open wide in concern. “You can't be serious.”
Jeonghan drops his stance, annoyed. His head tilts to the side, bangs falling over one eye like a dark curtain. Exasperation squares his shoulders. “Do I look like I'm joking?”
Alarm overtakes Mingyu’s handsome face. He can hear the droning sirens in Mingyu’s head heighten into a primal scream when the gun drops onto the mattress between them.
“Besides. If you killed me, then who would have you?” Jeonghan continues as if Mingyu had said nothing at all. A hand finds its way to the nape of Mingyu’s neck, playing at the fine hairs there.
He kisses Mingyu then, soft as a breeze. His other hand follows the line of buttons down Mingyu's chest.
“Haven’t I told you before? You die,” Jeonghan smiles against Mingyu’s lips, feeling them wobble. Another kiss, deeper this time, more firm. The buttons come undone, thin fabric of Mingyu's shirt slipping between his fingers. “When I die.”
Mingyu hesitates in kissing back, his mouth suddenly soft compared to the hardened frown lines that tightened his face just minutes prior. He takes the gun from between them numbly, fingers wrapping around the grip. The weapon hangs idly next to Jeonghan’s hip.
In that moment, it's nothing more than a weight in Mingyu's flexed fist. Moonlight catches them, casting Mingyu's face in a warm glow. Always stunning no matter what light hits him, a startling mix of fondness and aching surges through Jeonghan’s chest.
Pulse beating steady in his chest, Jeonghan wraps a hand around the barrel and brings it under his chin.
“So kill me if you want.”
Resting his chin on the sight, Jeonghan watches him closely. The anger residing in Mingyu’s eyes burns a brilliant red darker than the blood dried on his cheek. Jaw clenched, he sets the gun aside long enough to divest Jeonghan of his shirt.
“Ask me anything.”
“I have nothing to ask of you,” Mingyu lies, mouth firm.
Electric currents spark through the air between them. From the moment Mingyu touched a blade to Jeonghan’s throat, the room has been charged, threatening to blow them apart.
Jeonghan considers speaking again, then he hears the safety click, sudden clarity in the silence. The cool tip drags down the ridges of Jeonghan’s ribs, pulling the skin and leaving indents in the shape of the opening. He imagines it white-hot, the barrel branding him after the first shot.
Mingyu finally speaks again. “It’s either you or me. And it won’t be me.”
Sweat has started to bead at Mingyu’s brow. Jeonghan wonders if he'll be brave enough to remove the safety, to end his life.
The gun glints between them. Jeonghan’s blood sings underneath the surface, a song made only for this moment.
“Anything else?” Jeonghan asks. He reaches behind him to massage Mingyu through the fabric of his pants.
Unsurprisingly, he’s hard. A cruel smile spreads on his lips.
The reaction is instantaneous, the body underneath him locking before melting under Jeonghan’s deft touch. He doesn't make much headway before Mingyu forces his weight into Jeonghan and hauls them to the foot of the bed.
Sometimes invulnerability makes Jeonghan feel like a god. But Jeonghan is not a god, and loyalties crumble like sandcastles. Mingyu doesn't kiss him on the mouth, shifting to biting at Jeonghan’s exposed skin instead.
Mingyu moves, ripping their remaining clothing to the floor. The gun rests heavy on Jeonghan’s chest. It feels like an anchor holding him to the bed.
Jeonghan’s pulse skyrockets to a dizzying pace, head barely keeping above water. “Is that the best you can do?” he challenges, lips still curled in a cruel smile.
Mingyu laughs, a dark sound. “Shut up.” The gun clicks as he moves it. “Open your fucking mouth.”
Mingyu pushes the barrel past Jeonghan’s lips. The front sight catches on his top lip. Mingyu groans.
The corners of Jeonghan’s eyelids prick with tears, but he refuses to let them fall. Instead, he slides his head forward to take the gun deeper into his mouth, guiding the tip into the inside of his cheek. Heat floods everywhere, in his jaw working around the gun, in his flushed face, in his chest, in Mingyu's hungered gaze.
Mingyu pulls the weapon out then with a soft groan, replacing it with his tongue. Mouth warm and open, he pants into Jeonghan, stealing every breath. “You’re fucking insane.”