i found this twt link and can't stop thinking about how much it looks and sounds like san~
sub!Sannie when he's been on tour for so long without seeing you, so when he's finally home, he's a complete mess. he lets you edge him, kiss him, and dote on him for hours, stroking his throbbing cock for every time you couldn't for the past weeks. he just wants to be as close to you as possible, burying his face in your chest as he sucks and kisses your flesh. he's panting and moaning without restraint, his eyes rolling as he becomes lost in his favorite feeling: your touch.
synopsis ~ Wooyoung, a prostitute looking for love beyond physical relations, corrupts poor Yeosang, an innocent saint devoting his heart to no one but God.
pairing ~ prostitute!wooyoung x saint!yeosang
word count ~ 18.4k
genre / WARNINGS ~ EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MDNI, slow burn, religious guilt, forbidden love, boys kissing, prostitution, based heavily on Hilda Furacao, eventual smut (again, slowburn), blowjobs, virgin!yeosang, inexperienced top!yeosang, bottom!wooyoung, talking through it, secretly meeting, GAY SEX!, anal sex, dry humping, radiohosts!yungi, prostitues!matz, BFF!san, priest!jongho
a/n ~ totally a coincidence that I finished this when IYF came out lol.
DISCLAIMER ~ This fic mostly follows the plot of the Brazilian drama Hilda Furacao. (Go watch it, it's so delicious) Spoilers ahead.
“Good morning, Tinytown~! Nothing is better than a warm coffee and listening to your favorite MCs, Jeong Yunho and Song Mingi! It’s getting colder, but the news just keeps getting hotter! Your favorite Tiny-diva, Wooyoung, is set to get married this weekend! I think I speak for everyone when I say we’ll surely miss his sexy runway walks, but-!”
“Wooyoung, will you stop turning that blasphemy on?” Wooyoung looks up from his magazine as the radio buzzes to silence. His mother doesn’t look too happy. Not that she ever really does.
“Can’t I just enjoy the praise while I can?” he sighs, flicking the pages back open. The paper is ripped from his hands with a grunt.
“I never should have let you model,” she groans. “It’s gotten to your head. Now you have to be a proper husband, and you think you can just bend society’s expectations. Look at you!” She motions to him, reclined on a pool chair, sunglasses perched in his longer black hair, shirt discarded somewhere along the way. “Disgraceful.”
“I’ll be proper,” he says, “once I’m married. Besides, I love my fiancé.”
“Love?” she scoffs. “Is that what you think marriage is?” She points at him like she has more to say, her finger trembling, but she drops it. “Just wait until this town finds out what their celebrity is really like. You’ll become a disgrace to your ancestors and me.” She huffs away, taking his magazine. He just sets his head back with a long sigh.
-
“Yeosang?”
Yeosang turns at the knock on his door. Through the window, he sees it’s just his good friend, San. His hands, still pressed together in prayer, his knees bent on the floor, he grins.
“Come in, San,” he says happily, standing. He brings his arms out, his hands gently taking San’s. “It’s been so long. Are you back from your trip?”
He nods, his dimples deepening. “I saw so many new places, Sangie.” Yeosang brings him to his little bed in the middle of his small room in the seminary. “Did you listen to the radio this morning? Yunho broadcasted my writings and discoveries from my trip.”
Yeosang smiles softly. “No, not this morning,” he answers. He rarely listens to the radio, preferring to live peacefully and focus on his studies and faith. “But that’s wonderful.”
“And there were many beautiful women beyond the town, Sangie,” he teases, tapping Yeosang’s side, making him scrunch up. “I’m sure many of them would love a saint like you.”
“San,” Yeosang clears his throat. “Don’t say things like that. I’ll be a priest soon.” He stands. “Anyway, I’m busy with God and my children’s choir. Stop it with your nonsense. My heart is fulfilled.” San nods, standing too.
“I’m only teasing,” he chuckles. “I’ll bring some photos next time. Maybe my article too.” Yeosang nods, and San bows politely before opening the door.
“Go with God,” Yeosang says softly, leaving San with a small blessing as he leaves.
-
“It’s not like I’m here because I’m doubtful,” Wooyoung huffs to himself. “Or worried or anything.” He stares long and hard at the fortune teller’s building. “I just want to confirm… everything.”
He goes inside, his lips pressed tightly together. There’s a woman in this dark room, sitting at her table, knowingly. It’s like she can already see right through him. It’s like she knows every single uncertainty sitting behind his eyes. Maybe he should leave.
“Jung Wooyoung,” she says, a low voice that makes him halt in his steps toward her.
“You know me.”
“Everyone in this town knows you,” she says. “I knew you would come here one of these days. Your entire life is reported each morning like it’s national news. I know you’re becoming more and more lost each day.” His brows furrow. “Come. Take a seat.”
He does, though hesitantly. “I’m not lost,” he says. “I’m just curious.”
She picks up her cards. “About what, honey?” He watches her play with them skillfully, then starts laying them out. He swallows.
“My future.”
“Well, I can only confirm what is definite. It’s up to you to decide how you will reach that future.” She flips the first card. “You're getting married, Wooyoung,” she says.
“Everyone knows that.”
“You won’t go through with it.”
His eyes widen. “What?”
She stares into his gaze. “You won’t marry her.”
His brows furrow deeply. He almost stands and leaves. “How could you say something so outrageous? I will get married! I’ll marry her this weekend.”
“It is certain, Wooyoung. I know you have your doubts. You’re lost. Let me tell you how you will find the love you are looking for.”
“I have the love I’m looking for. My fiance and I-”
“Keep track of your shoes, Wooyoung.” He closes his mouth slowly. “You will lose a shoe, and a person will take it. That is where you will find the love you are looking for.”
He’s silent. This is stupid. He stands.
“How much do I owe you?” he asks bitterly.
“Nothing today. But you’ll be back. The next session, you can pay for that.”
-
“Maybe San is right,” Yeosang sighs, gazing at the crucifix on his wall. “Not about indulging in manly desires. But that… something is missing. I don’t know what.” He paces back and forth, biting his lip in frustration. “I should feel fulfilled. So what is missing?”
-
“Something’s missing,” Wooyoung sighs, staring at his white suit in his bedroom mirror. His mother looks from the mirror to him, raising a brow.
“What is it? We’ve been planning this wedding for months.”
“No, something…” he sighs. “Something isn’t right. This isn’t how I thought I’d feel.” He sits on the edge of his bed, staring at the flower in his pocket, glistening in his reflection.
“What are you talking about?” she says plainly.
“I thought I’d feel certain.”
“Are you suddenly uncertain?” she scoffs. “Wooyoung,” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “can we please talk about this after the wedding? The car is waiting outside.”
“No,” he mumbles. “No, I can’t go there until I’m certain.”
“What are you so uncertain about?” she asks, her voice rising. “You’re a rich son marrying an even richer daughter. Your life will be easy, and yet you’re uncertain. No, it doesn’t matter. It’s your duty as my heir to go through with it.”
“That’s not right,” he mumbles, and her brow twitches. “What if I don’t love her after all?”
“This again,” she scoffs. “You and love! I was worried this would happen.” She steps forward. “Wooyoung, get that nonsense out of your head! It isn’t real. You don’t marry someone because you love them. You marry who you must, and if love comes along, then it does. Don’t-”
“No!” He stands, shaking his head. “I won’t marry her. We don’t deserve that.”
She closes her eyes. “Wooyoung, go downstairs. Your bags are at the door.”
“I won’t.” He’s certain now. He can’t do this. Even if there is love involved, he’s certain he needs to leave this fate behind.
“Wooyoung!” his fiancée shouts, shoving past his mother through the door. “Wooyoung, what’s wrong? People are waiting!”
Wooyoung closes his eyes, shaking his head. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking.”
“Is this about your affair?”
“What?” He furrows his brows.
“I heard everything just now. I know you don’t love me anymore. But… I really need to get married. I-It’s fine if you have mistresses. You can keep them; I won’t say a word.”
“What are you talking about?” he scoffs. “I’ve never-”
“Seriously, Wooyoung,” she whines. “If you call this off, what am I supposed to do? I have a reputation.”
He bites his cheek, looking out the window at the waiting car. He can’t believe this. He was actually going to go through with something like this?
“I guess that’s all life is to this god-forsaken town.”
Wooyoung’s mother gasps, words tumbling through her glossed lips. But he doesn’t hear them, shoving past them both toward the stairs. He grabs his suitcases at the front door and rushes to the car. The neighbors are gathering around in question as he throws the bags in the trunk. He doesn’t hear a thing.
“Just drive,” he says, slamming the door shut. He watches as his mother rushes out of the house. He’s already gone. “Fuck,” he breathes, leaning his head against the window. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. He just… He knows he needs to escape this life.
The driver keeps going, away from his neighborhood, away from the wedding, toward the center of town. This place is lit alive, even in the nighttime, the red lights flickering and fluttering teasingly.
“Stop here,” he says quickly, gazing at the glistening dresses and bright smiles. Here, men and women are clasped at the elbows, shamelessly happy. Here, glamour and beauty strike the eye. He gets out of the car and knows he was meant to be led here. Here, he can stay without expectation. He pays the driver and gets his things.
There are eyes. Of course, he’s known, and he’s dressed for his wedding. But he keeps his head high, and he takes the few steps needed to reach the brothel. Its lights are so alluring.
“Jung Wooyoung,” a deep voice turns his head to a pole along the road. A beautiful man, tall and thin, leans against it. His top is cut short, his stomach sculpted like a deity. “Anyone is welcome here,” he says, bringing a long pipe to his plump lips. The smoke brings a shadow to his defined features, the breeze lifting his long black hair from his eyes. “But it’s not too late to turn around.”
“Is there a room for me?” he asks. The man nods before stepping away from the pole.
“I’ll retire for the night.” He towers over Wooyoung a bit, blowing a puff of smoke just above his head, eyeing him with something so naturally seductive in his dark eyes. “Because you’re so pretty.”
-
“Saint! Oh, Saint, please bless me!”
“Saint! Bless me!”
“Bless me, Saint!”
Yeosang smiles sweetly at the lost souls falling to the ground in his presence. He kneels before them, blessing each of them. “Please stand, sisters,” he requests quietly. “What troubles you so deeply?”
“Saint! You must help this town. It will soon fall ill to the devil’s temptations!”
“Saint! You must help us!”
“You’re our only hope!”
“Sisters,” he calls calmly, and they quiet down. “Continue to have faith in the Lord. He will protect us all.”
He clasps his rosary in his hand, the beads squeaking as they grind together in his grip. The ladies go in peace, but he stands there a moment more. There is always some sort of unrest in this town, but now even he can feel it. What is it? He turns to look at the town’s glamorous, beautiful church. It brings him comfort.
“Yeosang.” Yeosang turns with a smile at the familiar voice. It’s Father Jongho. “Yeosang, my saint, how are you?”
“It’s a lovely day,” he says sweetly, his grip loosening until his hand falls to his side. “I was taking a walk in the gardens. The sun is so bright this morning.”
“My,” he chuckles. “You truly are a saint, indulging in nothing but the beauty of God’s work.”
“How could I possibly tear my eyes away?” Yeosang giggles.
Jongho pats his back, sighing as he grins. “I have much to learn from you, Yeosang.”
He smiles shyly at the praise, lowering his head a bit. “Is there something bothering you, Father?”
He sighs. “No, not necessarily. The usual town banter.” He guides Yeosang down the garden path, staring at the clear sky as he talks. “Sometimes I regret taming my flock so well.”
Yeosang nods in understanding. There are many in the town so concerned with purity that it can often cause some chaos. Especially for Jongho. Yeosang often empathizes with his workload.
“And this whole Wooyoung Taepoong ordeal,” he huffs. “It really seems like a typhoon is coming toward this town of ours, Yeosang.” He stops walking, his fingers gently grazing a tall flower peaking through the others. “But our saint will protect us.”
Yeosang folds his hands together, nodding even through his uncertainty. Everyone – the town, even Father – keeps calling him a saint. He’s never felt like one. His entire life, he’s been told he is, but… saints perform miracles. Yeosang has never performed anything close to a miracle. He feels like a fraud. But he could never admit that aloud.
-
“Wooyoung Taepung! Everyone’s tuning in for the wild chase after Jung Wooyoung’s recent getaway. Rumor has it, he’s settled in the red light district! There has been no word from the town center’s brothel owner, but sightings through the second-story window have confirmed Wooyoung’s whereabouts. Your favorite MCs, Yunho and Mingi, will keep you updated about Tinytown’s hottest scandal: Wooyoung Taepung.”
“Gosh, Seonghwa, they’re talking about me all over,” Wooyoung exclaims, squealing in his new bed as the radio buzzes to music. “I haven’t been this excited about something since… maybe since I kissed someone for the first time.” He breathes heavily, excitedly. “It’s so scandalous, so wrong.”
“It’s so~ rrright!” a tiny man purrs as he peeks through the door. Seonghwa and Wooyoung turn in surprise. It’s a man decked in jewels, his brown hair fluffy atop his head, his evil smirk hidden under a fashion scarf. He’s small and pretty but clearly looking for mischief. “I’m Hongjoong,” he declares. “Wooyoung Taepung.” He comes closer, and Wooyoung eyes him from his pointy nose to his platform shoes. “You’re creating a lot of buzz.” He bites his lip. “This is your chance to really make a statement. Really change things. I’ll help you… because you’re so pretty.”
“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa huffs, rolling his eyes. “You brought that ugly man in here again; don’t think you can help her with anything. Go help yourself and scrub that ugly-man stench off.” He nods toward the door.
“He may be ugly, but he smells like gold and diamonds. I have my priorities.”
Hongjoong shuts the door behind him, eyeing the two of them playfully. “Now,” he bites his lip, “Wooyoung, you need the perfect outfit for your first appearance as Wooyoung Taepung.” Wooyoung grins, nodding. “It needs to say ‘don’t mess with me or my people.’ It needs to say ‘come if you dare.’” He’s practically growling as he opens Wooyoung’s suitcases. “Let’s see what you have in here. If it’s not enough, I’ll put together a new dress from the scraps of gold in my room. Just wait, Wooyoung, the world will shift at your feet. This town won’t ever rest knowing the red-light beggars are above them all.” He turns dramatically toward Wooyoung, his hair jumping with the movement. “Welcome to your new home, Wooyoung Taepung!”
-
Reporters are lining the streets of the district, the news reporting every break in the air as everyone awaits the great reveal. Will the town’s beloved Wooyoung truly reduce himself to this place?
The doors fly open, and flashes commence. The man hasn’t even appeared, but not a single frame is left unphotographed in this moment. When he appears, there is a moment of silence. He wears all black, silver jewels, rings, and necklaces decorating his skin. The cloth along him flows not like clothes, but like water moving in its natural way. Like the cloth bends to show a form so ethereal. The reporters pause, not a single flash for a long second. And then they are blinding.
Seonghwa joins him at his side, elegant and tall. Hongjoong is at his other side, grinning at the crowd.
“Wooyoung Taepung!” he shouts above the noise. There’s an abrupt applause, and the flashes grow quicker as a deep grin meets Wooyoung’s face.
-
“He was incredibly beautiful,” San sighs. “I’ve never seen clothes fit a man so uniquely. It’s like they weren’t clothes. It was magic.”
“San,” Yeosang mumbles. “You’re being silly.” He’s writing at his desk, invitations for his children’s choir’s performance later this week. “Who are you talking about anyway? Is it someone you met on your trip?”
“No,” San says, his mouth filled with his lunch. “No, I met him last week. You don’t know him? Wooyoung Taepung?”
“No,” he says without even thinking. Though the name does sound familiar.
“He’s all the town talks about these days.” He takes another big bite of his lunch. “I’m surprised the committee hasn’t filed a complaint about him yet. He’s gaining popularity in a good way.”
Yeosang sighs. That’s why the name was familiar. There have been complaints about a name like that. Many, many complaints. Many, many blessings.
“Taepung… Why such a name? Who is he?” Yeosang asks curiously, turning around. San is mid-bite, but he puts the food down as he clears his throat.
“He’s a prostitute.”
Yeosang’s brows furrow. “What?” San’s lips thin into a line. “This is who you’ve been going on and on about? A prostitute? In the Lord’s chambers?” He stands. “Why is he so vivid in your memory? Why is he haunting this pure town?”
“I don’t know, Yeosang,” he sighs. “It’s not my job to understand. It’s just my job to report.”
Yeosang looks out the window. Far out in the town’s center… something new is suddenly plaguing his town. He shakes his head. No, he’s so weak. He can’t let this devil get the best of his mind. He can’t become angry. That’s exactly what the devil wants.
“Don’t speak of him here,” he says quietly. “This is God’s place.”
-
“You have two minutes! No more! When the red light turns on!” Seonghwa points to the red light beside Wooyoung’s bedroom door. “You can go inside!” He shouts so that each man can hear, the line stretching down the hall, down the stairs, and out the door of the brothel. They’re antsy, eyeing the door like they can see through it. Like they can see the prize on the other side.
Wooyoung sits quietly on his bed, listening to Seonghwa’s familiar voice through the door. It’s his first time opening his door for customers. He sees out the window how they line up down the block. He sees familiar faces. Men from the church. Men he knew in high school. Old men, decades into marriage. And they’re all here for him.
He’s never dealt with a man before in this way, but he’s always been into men and women. He’s sure a woman wouldn’t come to a place like this. It would mean the end of her status. Just like it was the end of his.
He stands, staring at the suit from his wedding, hanging on the inside of his closet door. He closes it.
“Let them in.”
-
“Saint! Saint!” Yeosang is stopped by an old woman, arms trembling as she flails around a large envelope. “Saint! Oh, please listen to me!”
“I’m listening,” he assures softly, assisting her as she tries to catch her breath. She leans on his arms, gasping for air.
“Saint, you must do something about this devil in the district!” she begs. “He is spreading his lust throughout the town! Look,” she says, frantically shaking the envelope. “These photos. There isn’t a single household that hasn’t found these. It’s witchcraft. It’s the devil’s work. You must help us, Saint.”
He hesitantly takes the envelope from her. He’s a little shaken. What could possibly be so horrible, lying in this innocent white envelope? He grasps it tightly. “I will look into it,” he says kindly.
Yeosang doesn’t wait until he would normally return to his quarters. He goes right away. He slams the envelope on his desk, glaring at it.
“I’m going to see what’s plaguing this town,” he whispers, looking up at the figure of Jesus on his wall. “I’ll get to the bottom of this and end it.” He grabs the envelope and tears it open. But he freezes. “No.” He looks at the wall. “No, this is what he wants, isn’t it. If I open this,” he gasps, glaring at the envelope, “I’ll be falling prey to the devil’s work.” He stands abruptly, his chair toppling to the floor. “No, I must not look at it.” He grabs it and crumples it in his fists. He looks around frantically. His candles. He grabs a candle, his hands trembling as he holds the corner of the envelope over the flame. He slowly starts to smile as it catches on the paper. He tosses it in his trash bin, a sigh of relief escaping. He turns back to the wall, his smile wide. “I did it. I defeated the devil.” The flames catch his eye, but he doesn’t look. “I can overcome temptation. If anyone can save this town from this… I can.” He nods. “I’ll perform a miracle, Lord. I’ll become a true saint.”
-
“Come get Wooyoung Taepung’s photos here!” Hongjoong shouts, waving one of the pictures around. “You!” He points to a passerby, grabbing his collar. “Can’t afford to visit his room? Just take a photo home with you.” The man happily pays for an envelope, walking away quickly with the pictures.
“Hongjoong, you know you can’t sell shit out here,” an officer complains, waving the man away.
“What are you talking about? I’m under the roof of my brothel!” He points to the ceiling, just barely above his head. The officer shakes his head.
“Take it inside. We can’t do this every day. I’ll have to ban the photos if you don’t listen.”
“Oh, come on, officer.” They both look up the stairs as the brothel doors open. “Can’t you allow it, just this once?” Wooyoung strides down the steps, one foot in front of the other, his hand delicate on the railing. “Would you like a photo? Or perhaps, you could accompany me to the club?” He points to the large building across the street. Everyone in the district is crowding inside for a scandalous night.
“No, Wooyoung, I’m sorry. I’m on the clock tonight.”
Wooyoung pouts, putting a hand on the man’s chest. “I guess we’ll see you another time then.” He takes Hongjoong’s arm around his own, and they head toward the club. Hongjoong chucks the photos on the stairs before delightfully tagging along.
“Wooyoung,” he giggles. “You’re so daring tonight.”
“I’m just looking to have a good time,” he sighs. “Besides, Seonghwa is performing soon. How could we miss it?”
“I wasn’t planning on missing it,” he hums. “I was just going to tease him for a bit. He gets nervous on stage. Everyone can see his body. His hips move so seductively. He always looks for me in the crowd. Sometimes I like to watch his cheeks grow red as I stand in the shadows. When I finally let him spot me, he becomes so sensual. It really helps add that intimate element to his performances.”
Wooyoung stares at Hongjoong, whether in disbelief or envy, he isn’t sure. “You know him so well,” he says quietly.
He smiles, biting his lip. “Yeah.”
Light jazz is playing in the corner, a smiling crowd softly dancing and conversing. Hongjoong guides Wooyoung to a table near the center, and they sit for a conversation. It isn’t long until the lights grow dark, the jazz slows to silence, and the curtains open.
“You won’t tease him today?” Wooyoung whispers. Hongjoong smiles, shaking his head.
“It’s your first show. I want to see your reaction.”
Seonghwa is sitting on a glistening shell, his legs covered by a long, jeweled mermaid tail. Wooyoung gasps, his hands covering his mouth in awe. The district’s siren, who could take a man’s life with one look, sat like a creature of the sea. It feels wrong to be able to witness his beauty.
His chest is bare, only jewels and diamonds decorating his skin. His eyes meet Wooyoung’s, and then the music starts. He brings a mic to his lips.
He leaves the tail behind, singing softly, like a real siren. He’s wearing loose pants with a black thong stretched over his hips. He dances slowly for the audience, turning and pulling on the strings, sliding his hands along his skin. He looks out, directly at Wooyoung, then at Hongjoong. His knees fall to the stage, his hips rolling as he slides his hand to his inner thigh. There’s a soft gasp in the mic. His cheeks are so red, his eyes thin and hazy. The audience is entranced.
As the song ends, he sings the final lyrics with a breathy voice, sitting back on the shell. The curtains close, and the crowd erupts in applause. Wooyoung stands, clapping as he grins.
“That’s my Seonghwa!” he shouts, laughing as Hongjoong wraps an arm around his shoulder. “That was insane,” he says, meeting his eye.
-
“Father, I’ve finally found some sort of purpose,” Yeosang says breathily, grinning as he follows Jongho around while he works. “If I perform this miracle, then I’ll become a real saint!” Jongho turns around curiously.
“What miracle will you perform?” he asks.
Yeosang straightens his posture. “I’ll… I’ll exercise the devil in the town’s center.”
“Not you too, my saint,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Don’t let the news bother you. They never enter our town. We do not need to engage with their work.”
Yeosang shakes his head. “It’s becoming too big, reaching too far beyond the district. There is much discomfort in the town, and I… I will become a true saint if I perform this miracle. We’ll march down to the district. I’ll lead the faithful, and I’ll exercise that devil.”
Jongho just looks at him softly, as no man could ever look at Yeosang with harsh features. “Are you strong enough for such a place, Saint?” he asks.
Yeosang nods, his brows furrowed with determination.
-
“Tinytown’s beloved Saint is gathering those faithful to the church to march down to the red light district Friday evening. Saint wants to send this message to all of Tinytown. Listen closely. ‘Wooyoung Taepung will not continue to plague this town. He will be stripped of his evil and power. Join us.’ My, that’s a bit harsh, but our saint is as pure as ever. We’ll have to see how this unfolds. Your favorite MCs will keep you updated.”
The day of the march to the red light district, everyone gathers, holding signs and torches. Catholics and families wear scowls, determined to put an end to the spread of the district’s lust… or even the district itself.
Yeosang is breathing heavily, standing at the front of the crowd. Today, he’ll perform a miracle.
“Brothers and sisters!” he shouts, his deep voice resonating more than it ever has. The crowd grows quiet. “We will not stop marching! We will not stop declaring God’s will! Until we have exorcised the devil contaminating our town!” The crowd erupts as he exhales shakily. He turns toward the town’s center, a few blocks away. He raises his bible. “Now!” They move.
The district has gathered on their balconies, staring at the empty streets as they wait for the march to arrive at their homes. Wooyoung is in his room, glaring at his closed curtains. Seonghwa is blocking his view, an angry expression pointed at Wooyoung.
“You won’t go out there,” he commands. “For the last few months, you’ve grown the district to what it is today, but this is not a battle you have to fight. You will only get hurt. Let us do our part.”
“No,” he says. “This is my fault, Hyung. If I don’t show my face, they’ll take it out on you. I have to fight for the district honorably. I won’t hide.”
The chants of the crowd are growing louder, clearer. The words, the awful words, ring throughout the room.
“Do you think that saint could actually do something to me? He’s a weak man who hides behind his title.” He scoffs. Seonghwa glances out the window. The people can be seen now. They throw their fists in the air like they might burn down the district if it comes to that.
“Stay here,” he says one last time. He leaves through the door, sending three girls to keep him from leaving.
“Wooyoung Taepung! Face God's people!” The march has stopped, the people crowded in the street. Yeosang is trembling as he clutches his rosary. He glares out at the district, those curious now backing away and hiding behind their curtains. “Devil! Show your face!”
Seonghwa is on the steps of the brothel, staring down at the saint with dark eyes.
“B-Bring him here,” Yeosang demands.
“Wooyoung isn’t here,” he says calmly. Yeosang swallows, his eyes glancing around at the balconies of the brothel. He must be here. “Don’t come here, Sa-!”
“I’m here!” Everyone stirs when the doors slam open, and a black-dressed man steps into the dark outdoors. Yeosang’s eyes flare at the sight of him, his face hidden by the shadows. He truly looks like a demon.
“Wooyoung Taepung!” Yeosang shouts, his voice trembling. He holds out his crucifix, both hands clutching the structure. He swallows hard. “You will not torture this town!”
Wooyoung takes a step down, and his face is revealed. He stares strongly at the weak saint below him. “Torture?” he scoffs. “Is that what I’m doing?”
He nods. “There’s a demon of lust haunting our people. I will allow it no longer!”
Wooyoung actually laughs, covering his mouth as he bends over in a loud burst. “A demon of lust!” he jokes, pointing at himself in hysterical disbelief. “I’m not a demon!”
“You are!”
Wooyoung overtakes the last few stairs, meeting Yeosang face to face. He gets close, the crucifix pressed against his forehead as he stares up into Yeosang’s trembling eyes.
“I’m not a demon as much as you aren’t a saint.”
The crowd gasps, objections and cries heard throughout the street. Wooyoung grabs Yeosang’s arm and pulls the cross away, bringing Yeosang right against his chest. He trembles, staring down at Wooyoung, just an inch from him, terrified, livid. He tries to back away, but it’s useless.
“Who gives you the right to come here and ruin the peace of my home?” he asks quietly. Yeosang is quiet, breathing heavily against his lips. “How are you a saint?”
“I am a saint.”
“No,” Wooyoung snaps. “A saint doesn’t attack its people.” He points to himself. “I’m just a person like anyone else. If you want to attack the demon of lust, attack the married men who run to my room each night. Attack the ladies who watch our shows in the shadows.” He shakes his head, sweat running down his face. “Saint,” he scoffs. “Don’t come here with your bullshit.”
“You…” Yeosang mumbles, licking his lips. “You disrupted God’s peace!” he shouts.
“I did no such thing!”
Lightning strikes the sky, rain sudden and harsh on the streets of the district. They don’t falter in their stances as they become drenched. They wipe away the water and hair in their eyes, glaring at each other as the crowds disperse, cursing at the rain. There’s hardly a soul left on the street when another word enters the cold silence.
“Wooyoung Taepung will protect the people of the district. Because this saint will not.”
Seonghwa is hurrying down the steps, grabbing Wooyoung’s shoulders and pulling him away. The saint says nothing more. On the way over the curb, Wooyoung trips, and his shoe falls off, drifting quickly down the stream of rainwater. He curses, breaking away to go after it, but Seonghwa drags him back. It isn’t until they’re back in the brothel that he lets him go.
“Fuck, Hyung,” he pants. “I lost my shoe. I-” He catches his breath, his mind racing. His shoe… “My shoe,” he gasps, opening the door again, panicked and horrified. He rushes down the stairs, tripping over his uneven feet as he desperately follows the stream. There’s no shoe anywhere. He steps into the water, rummaging through it. Nowhere. It’s gone. He puts his hands on his head, looking all around for people, for signs of its shape. Nothing.
-
Yeosang doesn’t know why he took the shoe. He stares at it for an hour, watching it drip onto his desk.
“It just looked lonely… abandoned.” He talks to God, gazing from the shoe to his figure on the wall. “It means nothing.”
But his doorknob sounds, and he grabs the shoe, shoving it into his robe. Father Jongho enters.
“My saint,” Jongho sighs. “You look like a kicked puppy. What is so wrong?”
“Nothing, Father,” he mumbles.
He sits down next to him on his bed. “Well, did you succeed?”
He looks up at Jongho, thinking. “No,” he mumbles. “No, not yet.”
Jongho presses his lips together, gazing at Yeosang’s fidgeting hands. He doesn’t say anything more, even with all that’s on his mind. He just pats Yeosang’s back and listens to his rambles.
-
“Wooyoung Taepung! Tinytown’s heartthrob is here for a special announcement this afternoon!”
“Everyone, thank you all for your support, especially when it feels like the whole world is against me and my new family. I come here because I have lost something dear to me. It may seem stupid, but I’ve lost a shoe. And I need it returned to me. If you have my shoe, and you give it back, I PROMISE, I’ll give you a treat. A kiss, a hug, whatever you desire. I’ll give you your reward.”
-
“No,” Yeosang whispers, switching off the radio. He turns to glare at the shoe perched on his desk. “No, how am I supposed to ever return it if…” He can’t even say it. “No…” His mind wanders, his eyes trembling as he falls to his bed, staring at the ceiling.
Wooyoung is there above him; He can imagine it. He sits on his lap, a seductive look as he presses his hands into his chest. Yeosang tries to object, but he can’t speak at all.
“You brought me my shoe,” Wooyoung says, biting his lip. “So I have to give you your reward.”
Yeosang shakes his head, panicking as he backs away. “No, no, that’s okay. I just wanted to return it.” Wooyoung pushes him to the bed anyway, straddling his lap. Yeosang’s eyes widen, whimpering in confusion as Wooyoung pins his hands above his head.
“You’re gonna lo~ve this, Saint. I’ll make you feel so good.” He ties his hands to the headboard before placing his hands on Yeosang’s heaving chest. “Don’t you want to feel good?” He lowers his head, eyeing Yeosang as he looks away, squeezing his eyes shut as he pants. Wooyoung grabs his chin and makes him look his way, getting closer and closer until their lips touch. Yeosang’s brows furrow in confusion as the feeling envelopes him. The soft movement of his lips makes him melt, his squirming slowing down until the gentle movements turn harder and faster, because of Yeosang. He desperately pushes his lips against Wooyoung’s, confused and desperate.
Yeosang is horrified as he shakes himself from his fantasy.
He slaps his hand to his mouth, shaking his head with heavy breaths.
“No,” he pants. “No, I can’t return the shoe. I can’t.” He buries the shoe deep in his storage container, sweating as his mind constantly returns to that fantasy. No, no. He can’t.
He prays for hours that night, until his knees are numb, and then hours more.
-
“Next!”
“Wooyoung, are you sure it didn’t just float down the street? How do you know someone took it?” Seonghwa is leaning against Wooyoung’s bedroom door, watching another poor man desperately present a shoe, only for Wooyoung to turn him away in frustration. It must’ve been hours since it’s begun, and there’s still a line down the street.
“He’s right,” Hongjoong sighs, striding into the room. “None of these men are any good, either.” He shuts the door behind him, right into a man’s face. He cups Wooyoung’s cheeks with his ringed fingers, looking at him pitifully. “What’s got you so worked up about it? It’s just one shoe, Youngie.”
Wooyoung pouts, leaning against the cold metal. “I’m sure… whoever took the shoe will save me. That’s why.”
Hongjoong and Seonghwa glance at each other. “Youngie, you have everything you could ever want. Are you regretting your decision?”
“No,” he says plainly. “Absolutely not.” He stands. “Just… These customers… these men who claim they adore me and cherish me… It isn’t love.”
“Love..?” Seonghwa mumbles.
“I want… more than anything… to be loved… and to love. Not for my body. Not for my face. I want someone to cherish my soul.” He turns around with determination. “Whoever took my shoe that night, I’m sure they’re my fate.”
-
“Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like the feud between the district and the church is not coming to an end any time soon. The Daughters of Mary committee is advocating for the immediate removal of the Red Light District. Don’t miss out on any of the news. Your favorite MCs, Yu-”
“Saint! Oh, Saint! You must help us!”
“I don’t know how to help you with this, sisters,” he says hurriedly, on his way to meet Father Jongho before he departs for the next town over. “I don’t exactly have any authority.”
“No, Saint, no, you do! Everyone in this town respects you! You don’t need to do anything; just be there! Please! We beg of you, Saint!” He stops as the presence of the ladies is removed from his sides. He turns to see them on the ground, begging for his help. He fights back a groan, helping them to their feet.
“...I will see what I can do.”
Father Jongho is packed and approaching his train when Yeosang hurriedly calls out his name.
“Father! Please, wait a moment!” He looks at his watch, then the train, then Yeosang before waiting for the young man to finally catch up to him. “Father, there is something I need to confess before you go. Or it will eat away at me forever.”
“Sweet Yeosang, can we not do this when I return? The train will leave me here in a moment.”
“Last week, Father, I could not control my mind. Something’s wrong with me! I-!” Jongho sighs, placing a comforting hand on Yeosang’s trembling shoulder.
“My Saint, do not worry. I will return soon, and I will listen to your rambles all day and night. I really must catch this train.” He leaves before Yeosang can utter another word. He nearly falls to the ground in distress. He needs to confess his sins. It will surely kill him before he can perform a miracle.
As the train leaves, he lets his breath slow from his long run to the station. His mind clears, and he realizes just what he needs to do. He needs to perform this miracle before the devil chips away at his purity. Yes. That’s what he’ll do.
-
Wooyoung can hardly see past the crowd of both the district’s people and the church’s. The courthouse is crawling with every soul in this town, each shouting their own opinions, none being heard over the constant noise.
His car stops in front of the barricaded stairs, the door opening for him. He steps out, and gasps echo throughout the crowd. Then, the left side erupts in grand cheers, and the right side erupts in disgusted boos. Wooyoung moves up the stairs, ignoring it all. He can’t lose control of himself tonight. Tonight, he represents all of the district, its people and its activities.
It’s quieter inside, though the crowd carries its noise through the many doors. Here, there are many businessmen and women sitting around the room. Tonight, each will make a decision. Wooyoung sits in one of two empty seats, next to a politician who is already in favor of the district, having visited Wooyoung’s room many times over the short time he’s been receiving customers.
And the final person arrives shortly after, Wooyoung’s eyes glancing without an interested movement of his head. It’s the saint.
He walks Wooyoung’s way. Of course, it’s the only seat remaining. He shakes hands with several people on the way, but he stops when he reaches Wooyoung. He stops and he stares. Wooyoung looks back, meeting his eyes daringly. No words are said. And Yeosang walks away. Wooyoung scoffs, watching as he stands by the entrance.
Seriously? He’ll stand instead of sitting next to him?! Wooyoung had planned on getting up when Yeosang sat down, but this is offending. Is this saint too pure to sit next to him?
The event begins, but Wooyoung can't focus at all. He eyes the saint every other second, only to find the man’s eyes are already on him. They both look away. They both look back. Then away.
The trial goes on for hours, but the final decision is ready to be made. Each person sitting in this room is given a chance to speak in favor of or against shutting down the district. Wooyoung bites his lip as the words travel around the room.
Yes. No. Yes. Yes. No. Yes. No. No. No.
No.
The crowd outside erupts in relieved and ecstatic cheers as the final decision is made.
The Red Light District will not be shut down!
Wooyoung waits happily for most of the men and women to file out before leaving himself. He hates walking through crowds, especially ones full of those not fond of him.
But as he leaves, he spots a familiar figure standing near the corner of the lobby. It’s the saint. He’s looking pitiful, his hands clasped in front of him while he looks around like he’s lost.
“Saint?” he calls out. Yeosang looks up with wide eyes when Wooyoung approaches him. Wooyoung watches him glance around for a way out of this interaction, but he doesn’t move. “You look so sad, Saint,” he coos. “Are you so disappointed that the district will remain?”
“N-No,” he replies, swallowing. “I don’t have much to do with this case. I was asked to come.”
“Really? You don’t want the district shut down?”
“Well, of course, I despise the sin-”
Wooyoung huffs, rolling his eyes. “Watch yourself, Saint. If you’re so focused on others’ sins, you might miss your own wrongdoings.”
Yeosang presses his lips into a thin line. “I just want to do what’s best according to God’s will.”
Wooyoung hums. “Did God tell you to come attack my people then, Saint?”
“S-sin is-”
“Don’t let me see you again,” he says sharply. “If you are a saint, I want no saint near my people.”
-
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a very special guest this evening. Our pride and joy, Saint Yeosang, has a message he would like to share.”
“P-people of the Red Light District… I would like to offer you my blessing. Y-your sins in that place are deep and evil, and you must repent. I understand life’s hardships, but you must turn to God. Come to my church and confess your sins. God will take you in his arms. It is not too late.”
“Wooyoung, maybe you should calm down a bit. Don’t do anything impulsive,” Seonghwa hurries to say, catching Wooyoung by the arm before he storms out the brothel door. “The saint only means good, you know that.”
“That saint! I’ve warned him many times, but he keeps attacking us!” Wooyoung practically growls, trying to break through Seonghwa’s restraints. “I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind. I’m gonna make him stop. You won’t hear his voice again, you hear me?! If he thinks he’s so abive us, I’ll fucking-!”
Wooyoung takes himself to the church. He loses the flames of anger along the way, and, now at the church, he’s calm. He would come here every Saturday to pray for poor souls when he used to live closer. He misses it a bit. He hopes that these wicked memories with this saint do not interfere with his lovely memories of this place.
He goes inside and sees Yeosang at the front, conducting his children’s choir beautifully. Wooyoung stops at the entrance, gazing at the children, listening to their graceful music. It’s so lovely; Wooyoung doesn’t feel any resentment at all right now.
Until the singing comes to an end, and Yeosang turns to gaze at the visitor. His eyes sparkle with tears. The man must have been so moved by his choir. He dismisses them gently, and he doesn’t turn around for a long moment. When he does, his tears are gone.
He approaches Wooyoung, trembling slightly. He’s afraid, Wooyoung sees immediately. He knows what he did was wrong. He can see it in his fists wrapped in his clothes. In the way his steps are uneven, the echoes of his shoes a beat faltering more and more as he gets closer.
“Why did you do such a thing?” Wooyoung asks plainly. Yeosang doesn’t respond until he’s much closer, just a few feet away.
“It is my mission,” he responds quietly.
“We don’t want your input, Saint. We don’t want your blessings.” His voice can’t help but rise as the flames of anger are lit again. “I don’t want to be your miracle! Is that so hard to understand?!”
“Why are you there?! Why are you punishing yourself in that place?! I know you don’t belong there!” he shouts.
“You don’t know me! You don’t know anything!” Wooyoung pants, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re a child who’s been told his whole life he’s a saint! So you think you’re perfect! You think you can act above all others! You lack the human in you to ever be a saint! You don’t need a miracle! You need empathy and understanding!”
Yeosang shakes his head. “You’re wrong! The district is wrong! And you-!” He shuts his mouth.
“What?! What am I?!”
“You’re a witch! You bewitch this town!” His eyes flutter when Wooyoung takes the remaining steps forward, pressing a bruising finger to Yeosang’s chest.
“What about you?!” Yeosang scowls, his lips trembling. “Do I bewitch you?! Is that why you’re so adamant about defeating me?!”
They both are silent, panting as they glare into each other’s eyes.
“No,” Yeosang mutters. “No, you could never affect me. God is the only owner of my heart and body!” He pushes Wooyoung’s hand away. “And I will spread his message-!” Wooyoung can’t stand to see him another second, storming toward the entrance with a trembling fist.
He looks back, but he doesn’t say another word. He wouldn’t stop if he started again.
-
Wooyoung doesn’t hear of Yeosang for weeks, peace and laughter starting to fill the district again. He makes sure everyone forgets about everything when night comes each night. But he… He can’t stop thinking about the Saint.
How he’s so stupid. So oblivious. So stuck-up. How he doesn’t look at Wooyoung in a lustful way… as if he isn’t human. Wooyoung wonders about it… and he comes to realize he doesn’t mind it. If the saint is good for anything, it’s this. Wooyoung feels like he isn’t just his body when thinking about that man.
He doesn’t really like that… Thinking about him…
-
“Why do I feel so conflicted?” Yeosang mumbles, gazing at the figure on his wall. “I should feel determined to win, but I… I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. I feel so affected by him. Every night, I can’t stop thinking about him… How I want to save him… How he doesn’t see me the way everyone else does. How he might be right…” He sighs, bringing his knees to the ground. “What if I’m not a saint?” It hurts just to say it. “For the first time in my life, someone has made me feel so human… so flawed. Now it feels like everything I’ve been so certain of is so uncertain.”
-
Wooyoung doesn’t really know what overtakes him when he arrives at the church at this strange hour. It’s a little past midnight, the town resting and peaceful. No one would even be inside, but he feels so compelled to go in. Maybe it’s his missing the comfort of the church. Maybe it’s the stress of his thoughts. Either way, he finds himself walking inside and sitting in an empty confessional booth.
The lights are so dim, but he doesn’t need to see. Not when he feels tears fill his eyes anyway.
“I think I’m broken,” he whispers, biting his lip when he can hardly muster the words. No one’s here to hear them anyway, whether that makes things worse or easier. “Something's wrong with me.” He wipes his eyes. “I’ve never felt right, no matter where I am. I’ve always felt dramatic or stupid. Stupid for wanting love in a marriage and then stupid for spontaneously running away. I destroyed my family’s reputation because I was selfish… and stupid.” He has to stop to let out an almost silent whimper, suppressing his sobs as he wipes away at his cheeks. “I finally found people who feel like a family… Everyone feels like an outcast, just like me, and… I just want to protect them. But even with them, I feel so selfish. I hate this life. I hate it, but it’s my punishment for ruining the life I was born with. And I hate it so much. I just want someone to love, and I feel so stupid. Again, I feel stupid. What’s wrong with me?”
He sobs, unable to keep the tears under control, his voice breaking through his tight lips.
-
Yeosang knows he shouldn’t be listening to everything, his hand held against his mouth as he sits in the adjacent booth. Tears are spilling out of his own eyes as he desperately tries to remain silent. If Wooyoung finds out he heard everything, he’ll be even more distressed.
He had planned on doing something similar, never expecting someone to join him. It feels like God is bringing them together so often these days, and it makes him even more conflicted.
Hearing Wooyoung sob, knowing the way his heart is throbbing, makes his own body break down. But he doesn’t make his presence known. He just silently cries.
-
The weeks after, Yeosang is struck with so much confusion and dizziness, all surrounding the one man. He can’t stop thinking about Wooyoung. How he feels like he’s been completely wrong about him after hearing his confessions. He doesn’t seem evil at all. He seems like he loves his new family in the district and will do anything to protect them… but… he is still living a life of sin. And Yeosang’s thoughts about Yeosang are not that of friendship; he can’t kid himself. He thinks of a man as one should of a woman. And that terrifies him.
But his thoughts, and his heart, and his feet bring him to the district one lonely night.
He doesn’t get close. He doesn’t dare. He hides behind a building at the edge and looks out at the little brothel sitting down the street. And he sees him. Oh, he sees him. He nearly melts at the sight, his eyes shining in the moonlight as he watches him lean against his balcony railing. He doesn’t know why he brought himself here, but he can’t lie to himself. He can’t say it is due to his mission. He can’t. He knows it’s something deeper… something wrong.
Wooyoung is so beautiful. He glows brighter than any star, so dim above him. Yeosang watches him greet those walking below. He’s kind… beautiful… and sorrowful. Yeosang feels… selfish for making this soul his “miracle.” He feels like he’s placed a heavy burden on another.
He returns to the house of the priests and says nothing. He says nothing for days and weeks. He does not speak a word of his faltering faith.
-
“What’s with the change of heart?” Seonghwa asks, leaning against the doorframe of Wooyoung’s bedroom. “I thought you hated this man.”
Wooyoung is looking intently in the mirror, doing his makeup. “I’ve decided I’m done defending, Hyung. I’m going to attack the one thing he cherishes the most.”
Seonghwa gasps. “Are you challenging God himself?”
Wooyoung snickers. “No. I’m attacking the saint’s heart. That’s all. You’d think everyone has his heart. His love.” He looks up at Seonghwa with a mischievous smirk. “You’d be wrong. That man can’t stand to have his heart tampered with.”
“You think you can crack him?”
“Of course, he can!” Hongjoong sighs, bumping hips with Hwa as he presents himself to the room. “This is our Wooyoung Taepung we’re talking about.”
“Close my room for today,” Wooyoung announces. “I don’t think I’ll be back home until tomorrow.” He gets up and grabs his bag, waving his fingers as he strides down the hall.
-
“I would like to arrange a mass for this afternoon,” Wooyoung says sweetly. The old priest of this town’s church is so innocent and oblivious despite his great work. He knows little of Wooyoung or his actions. He thinks he’s just a sweet young man. “It’s special, for this town’s goodwill, so I’d like Kang Yeosang to conduct it.”
The priest raises his brows in surprise. “The saint? He isn’t yet…”
“I know. I feel like he has the most pure soul in all the world, though. I would feel so blessed.” He bats his lashes, but Father looks up as footsteps sound behind Wooyoung. He turns around, curious. It’s the saint.
His heart flutters, like he’s been caught doing something dirty. He looks away, wiping away the blush on his cheeks with the back of his hand.
“Ah, my sweet Saint! Come here! We were just talking about you!” Jongho calls happily, motioning for Yeosang to come closer. He is so reluctant when he does, keeping his eyes locked on you with each step. “This young man wants to arrange a mass for this afternoon. Would you be fine with conducting it?”
Yeosang is filled with an overwhelming sense of relief. This sinner, who has denied his religious advances for months… has come to the church? And he wants to arrange a mass? He grins, nodding.
“Of course,” he sighs. Wooyoung glances over at Yeosang, keeping his mischief away from his expression.
“Thank you, Saint.” Yeosang swallows, meeting his eyes before nodding hesitantly.
Jongho looks so glad for some reason, patting Yeosang’s back. “Escort him out and then prepare for it, Saint.” He walks away, and it’s just the two of them there. It feels strangely fine, despite everything. Wooyoung begins to walk out, giving Yeosang one last glance.
“Wo-Wooyoung,” Yeosang calls softly. He turns back, quirking a brow. “Are you here… to repent?”
Wooyoung shakes his head with a soft smile. “God knows that this is my punishment,” he says softly. “Even though you do not believe it. This mass is for praying for the poor souls of this town. I used to come here often to do so. I miss it.”
With that, he leaves.
The mass goes how you’d expect it to go when Wooyoung knows he’s already breaching that locked place in the saint’s chest. He can feel his eyes on him. He can hear the tremble in his voice when they lock eyes for a moment.
“You see me,” Wooyoung says after the mass. Yeosang swallows, eyeing him.
“What do you mean? Of course, I-”
“You see me beneath my skin, don’t you? You aren’t afraid of me. You don’t hate me. You see what I’m doing to you. And you see me for who I really am.”
“What are you-”
Wooyoung walks right up to him, so close, he can feel the saint’s heavy breath against his lips. “I affect you.” He taps his chest. “Here.”
“No,” Yeosang says quickly. “No, no, you don’t.” He moves away.
“Do you love me?”
Yeosang falls back onto a bench, shaking his head profusely. “No! Don’t say things like that! I have no room for love! God is all I have and all I need! And furthermore, you’re a man!”
“You’re lying!” Wooyoung accuses, watching Yeosang’s face turn red as he denies it over and over. Wooyoung’s getting frustrated, wishing he could rip the man’s heart out and show Yeosang how much it beats for HIM. Just for HIM.
Seeing the saint so vulnerable before him, trembling as he denies his own emotions… Wooyoung feels frustrated, but also… hurt. Why is it so distasteful that he could love Wooyoung? Why does he hate the idea so much? It’s not like they have a proper relationship, and yet… he feels a little betrayed.
“Fine,” he mumbles. “You don’t love me. Then give me my shoe back.”
Yeosang’s eyes widen in horror. “W-What?”
“I know you have it. Give it back.”
“I d-don’t..”
“You’re the only other person who could have possibly taken it. If you took it, you’re supposed to be the love I’m looking for.” He bites his lip. “You’re obviously not, so give it back.”
“I don’t… I didn’t take your shoe. I don’t have it.”
Wooyoung stands in defeat, staring at the saint as he shifts on the bench. Without another word, he goes away. Whatever. This is so stupid. Just like everything else.
-
Yeosang sits in his room, staring at the floor blankly, a whip in his loose hand. His shirt is tossed aside, scars along his back from previous years taunting him as his limbs tremble. His mind wanders to Wooyoung, his devastated expression, how he was so hurt when Yeosang denied loving him. He whips the leather over his shoulder, flinching in great pain when it strikes his back. He thinks about how he can’t stop thinking about Wooyoung. He thinks about his kindness and loving nature. How he wants to- He whips himself again, grunting in pain. Again. Again. Again. He punishes himself all night until he passes out on his bedroom floor, tears streaking his face. Wooyoung… is who he dreams about.
-
Wooyoung keeps his room open to customers day and night for weeks. It’s his punishment for being so stupid. Again. He lets strangers touch him. He lets them do whatever. After all, no one will ever love him or his body truly. No one will ever love him.
“Wooyoung, honey,” Seonghwa sighs, his heart heavy as he stares at Wooyoung’s motionless body on his bed. He’s naked, too lazy to change or shower off the disgusting touch of strangers. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
Wooyoung lets him guide him to the bath across the room, soaking in its warmth silently.
“Why won’t you go out tomorrow, baby?” Seonghwa suggests, gently streaming water down the man’s shoulder with his gentle hands. He brings his hair away from his eyes with soft strokes. Wooyoung would normally love the attention, melting into the caring touch. Now, he just can’t bring himself to really care for it. “We should both go out. We should go downtown and see a movie or something. Maybe just get ice cream. Hmm?”
Wooyoung glances at Seonghwa’s soft smile. He’s trying so hard to cheer him up.
“Okay,” he mumbles.
-
It really does cheer Wooyoung up to get away from his room. Downtown, they get ice cream and walk in the gardens. Seonghwa tells him more about his life. He tells him about his crush on Hongjoong and how he could never admit it. Wooyoung knows they’re both already practically dating anyway. He’ll have to help them get together. Wooyoung tells Seonghwa some things about his old life… His ex-fiancée and whatnot. They don’t spend too much time on that topic, though. Overall, Wooyoung realizes he doesn’t need to speak his mind to the silence. He has a family in the district who will care for him.
They go see a movie too, and, leaving, Wooyoung feels completely revived. The streets are bustling now, everyone getting off of work. Protests are beginning for this and that in the town square. Seonghwa and Wooyoung try to hurry home now that the commotion is starting to heat up. A gunshot rings, and everyone ducks, screaming. Seonghwa grabs Wooyoung’s hand, trembling as they look around in confusion. Everyone is frozen. Until a fight breaks out between protestors and the police, more gunshots echo, and everyone starts running.
They can barely make it through the crowd, Seonghwa and Wooyoung separated almost immediately. He can’t see him, but he just keeps moving with the flow of the crowd until he makes it out near a store around the corner, catching his breath. He’s panicking, watching everyone run around in chaos. And amidst it, someone runs right into him, pushing him against the wall.
“Agh! I’m so-!” He’s met with the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen, familiar and sparkling as he gazes into Wooyoung’s, just inches apart. “You…”
Away from the crowd, pinned against the wall, Wooyoung gazes at Yeosang’s panicked expression. And then, Yeosang kisses him.
Wooyoung’s eyes squeeze shut, his brows furrowing in confusion, disbelief, and delight. Yeosang’s lips move desperately against his, pushing him against the wall as their breaths combine. Wooyoung doesn’t question it, just reaches up and intertwines his fingers in Yeosang’s brown hair, pulling him closer.
Yeosang pulls away, his face flushed and hazy. They catch their breaths gazing into each other's eyes as they wonder… What did we just do?
Yeosang runs away before another second can pass, feeling dread overcome him… and something so wrong. He runs without stopping, all the way home, leaving Wooyoung to wait alone for the crowd to pass.
-
Yeosang is still red and panting when he reaches his room, shutting and locking the door before anyone even sees him enter the building. He stops in front of his mirror, staring at himself in confusion and fright. Something is so wrong. He looks down at his pants, seeing the unfamiliar tent of his crotch.
“My body,” he mumbles, feeling hot and dizzy, “is changing…”
He slips off his shirt, his fresh scars revealing themselves. Then, he drops his pants to the floor, then his underwear. And he stares at the change in his private parts. It’s big and hard… He’s so hot, his stomach twisting as he reaches up to touch his lips.
He kissed Wooyoung.
His member twitches, and he whimpers, his hips moving slightly. Why is this happening to him?
It felt so good to lose control, to grip Wooyoung and…
He slowly moves his hand down his body, shivering as he leaves a path of goosebumps. Just a hesitant tap to his member makes a weird noise leave his lips. He’s so sensitive there. He’s never felt like this when he’s cleaned himself. Why does he want to know how good it can feel.
He’s panting, staring down at his trembling fingers. No, no, no, no. Wooyoung is controlling his thoughts. He’s been overtaken by desire. He grabs his pants and pulls them up. He needs to control himself. He looks to the figure upon his wall, his lips quivering. What is he supposed to do? He’s so far gone. He drops to the ground and grabs the whip from his storage chest. He doesn’t waste a second before slamming it against his back. Then again. Again. Again. He will not falter again. God is the only one in his heart. He will overcome the devil.
-
“Wooyoung, how did you make it home so late? Did you wait for the entire town to go home before you?” Seonghwa chuckles, getting dressed in his sleepwear as Wooyoung sits dazedly on his bed.
He gasps, rushing to Wooyoung’s side. “He did?!” Wooyoung nods, swallowing.
“We bumped into each other earlier. I didn’t even say anything. He just… kissed me!” Seonghwa’s jaw is dropped, forming a wide grin as he shakes Wooyoung excitedly.
“Ya, I knew it! He looks at you so longingly. There’s no way he isn’t obsessed with you.”
“Not just obsession,” he says, biting his lip. “I’m sure he loves me.”
Seonghwa nods. “Wooyoung,” he says. “You know you’re the most lovable person I’ve ever met.” Wooyoung gazes at him, his smile softening.
“I think it’s because you guys have taught me how to accept it,” he says quietly. He gives Seonghwa a delicate kiss on the cheek before saying goodnight.
Wooyoung doesn’t sleep a wink that night, kicking his feet and giggling as he presses his fingers to his lips. And when he does sleep, he dreams of Yeosang anyway.
-
“Yeosang, dear, this is the fourth time I’ve found you like this this year,” Jongho sighs, tucking Yeosang snuggly in his bed. “What’s troubling you so deeply?”
Yeosang has to consciously think about the lie before he speaks it. He knows… that if he admits his sins… the reality that he isn’t a saint will come true. “It's nothing, Father. I’m just stressed.”
Jongho knows it’s a lie, but he doesn’t say another word. He watches Yeosang as the man can finally find himself some proper sleep.
And he shamefully searches Yeosang’s room while he sleeps. He looks through his books, his desk, then his storage chest… and he finds what he had feared. He knows Yeosang is losing focus on God. He knows something is making it falter. He realizes it all as he sees this shoe hidden at the bottom of the chest. It’s completely polished and in pristine condition, as if Yeosang has been taking good care of it. He holds it and stares blankly at it. It must be this miracle… that has overcome him after all. This Wooyoung.
When Yeosang awakens, he is still there, sitting at his desk quietly.
“Father?”
He smiles softly. “Did you sleep well, Saint?”
Yeosang nods sleepily, sitting up. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“If you’re sorry… would you mind telling me the truth?” He looks away guiltily. “There isn’t a thing in this world that I can’t help you overcome, Yeosang. Please be truthful.”
Yeosang swallows hard before he starts to mumble. “I f-feel that I might be falling in love… I feel like I’m failing God. I can’t possibly be the saint you say I am…”
Jongho sighs, and Yeosang looks up, a little confused.
“Yeosang, my sweet Saint. Being a saint does not mean perfection. There are saints who indulged in manly desires before devoting themselves to God’s will, right?” Yeosang shrugs. “But what worries me… is that love you speak of. I see it crawling on you and caging your heart away from God.” He leans back. “Your body is but human, Yeosang, but your heart and your soul… that can only belong to one. You have to choose. God. Or that man.”
Yeosang looks up in horror, but Jongho looks unfazed. He wishes his saint would be completely honest, but he can’t afford to be impatient. Yeosang is slipping fast, and what would happen to this town if it loses its saint? It might just fall to pieces.
-
Yeosang feels so conflicted when he travels secretly to the district one night. Father says he must choose, and, for once, he has absolutely no idea. He’s never fallen in love with another soul, and it’s completely overtaken him. He doesn’t want to throw it away.
He watches from the edge of the district. It seems like a big event is happening tonight, everyone walking about, laughing and singing. He can’t find Wooyoung in the crowd. He wants to see him. He instinctively moves closer, but a hand grabs his arm and pulls him back. He gasps, turning in shock to see Wooyoung.
“Saint,” he sighs. “Stay in the shadows. What if someone sees you?”
He nearly melts in this comfortable beat of his heart. How is he so kind, worried about him for the smallest of reasons?
“Why are you here?” he asks, letting go of his arm. The skin there still tingles slightly.
“I… um… I…”
“Did you come to see me?” Wooyoung teases, poking his side. Yeosang shifts away. He should deny it, but what’s the point? He nods. “Did you miss me?” Wooyoung bites his lip, and Yeosang’s eyes can’t tear away from the motion.
“I… I came because I wanted to see if I could truly walk away from this,” he admits.
Wooyoung places an innocent hand on his arm, watching him squirm, overwhelmed with every little interaction.
“You succeeded,” he mumbles. “You’ve taken my heart, but… God should be the only one to own it. What am I supposed to do?” He feels Wooyoung’s hand slide up to cup his cheek, and he sighs, leaning into the touch.
“It’s up to you,” Wooyoung whispers. “Can you walk away?”
Yeosang shakes his head, his lips trembling as his eyes begin to gloss over. This poor Saint. All he wants… is to love and to be loved… just like Wooyoung.
“No one decides for you. You don’t have to be a saint if you don’t want to.” His voice is so gentle; Yeosang almost agrees right away.
“But it’s what I’m meant to be,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m not strong or faithful. I feel fake everywhere I walk. Unless I’m here with you.”
Wooyoung’s heart flutters, and he grasps his chest. He wipes away Yeosang’s tear with his thumb, watching the options and thoughts pass through his pained eyes.
“I’ve never felt so human. But this isn’t what I’m meant to do. I have a duty.”
For a moment, Wooyoung thought Yeosang really let himself break free of everything. But… a gentle hand takes his and pulls it away from his face.
“I choose to walk away,” he whispers.
Wooyoung clenches his jaw as he sees Yeosang’s back, his feet silently trudging back down the street.
“You know that’s not your choice,” he says, his voice trembling. Yeosang doesn’t respond. “You’re a liar.” He feels stupid tears running down his face. He runs over to him and forces him to turn around. “Look at me!” He can’t, his eyes glaring into the ground as tears drip. “What does it take for me to have your love?!” He shakes Yeosang desperately.
“You can have anyone, Wooyoung,” he mumbles. “It doesn’t have to be me.”
“It does have to be you!” he cries. “I’ve never been loved before! I’ve never loved anyone before! Only you! Only you look at me for me and don’t see me for my body. Only you make my heart pound every second, even when you’re not around. Only you have my heart! It has to be you!”
“Then why are you still here?!” He’s completely distressed, torn between staying and going. “Why are you still letting strangers into your room every night?! Even if I do leave everything behind for you, would you leave this life behind too?! How can you expect me to sacrifice everything, but you refuse to?!” He’s panting, his brows furrowed in frustration. Wooyoung’s quiet.
Wooyoung is so quiet. Because he’s right. Again, he’s been selfish. He didn’t even think about it that way. He understands now… why it’s so hard for Yeosang.
“It’s my penance,” he whispers. “I will leave it behind. But I can’t yet.”
Yeosang looks off into the town, biting his lip. “It’s my choice,” he says under his breath. “I want to return my heart to God.”
But the way his shoulders tremble when he walks away… Wooyoung wipes his tears away harshly. Why is Yeosang such a liar? Why is it so hard to fight for something that should be so beautiful?
-
Every moment they spend apart, it doesn’t get better. Yeosang devotes himself to the church, but it feels like a hole has been etched from his heart. He can’t go back to the way things were. He can’t forget him. He can’t stop loving him.
And Wooyoung pretends to be okay, laughing with his friends and entertaining his guests, but he too feels broken without word from Yeosang. He needs him more than anything.
“Hyung,” Wooyoung mumbles. Both Hongjoong and Seonghwa look over from their dinner. “My, um, my penance is over soon,” he says.
Seonghwa smiles. “That’s great,” he exclaims. “Did you figure out where you’re going to go?”
Wooyoung leans his head on his hand, huffing. “I’m gonna get married, I think.”
They both perk up, glancing at each other in surprise.
“Did the saint change his mind?” Hongjoong asks.
He shakes his head. “No,” he sighs. “No, but that’s my plan anyway.”
“...So who will you marry?” Hwa mumbles.
Wooyoung shrugs. “I guess we’ll see. If the fortune teller was actually right… and Yeosang and I are meant to be… then him. If not… then some rich man. It’ll be whatever may be.”
-
Wooyoung wanders through town, wondering why it doesn’t cheer him up this time. Wondering if he’ll come across Yeosang again. He sees a figure on the hills beyond the edge of town, and he follows it without thinking much. Of course, it is his saint.
Wooyoung follows him to a field, hills reaching above the view of the town. There’s not a soul up here. Yeosang sits against a large tree growing alone in the field, and Wooyoung stops a few feet away. Yeosang looks at him blankly, not a word leaving his mouth. Not a question. Not a worry. Not a thought. Wooyoung sees it all in his eyes. He just wants to give in.
Wooyoung begins to unbutton his shirt, so slowly so that Yeosang could tell him to stop if he wants to. Instead, he just leans his head back, gazing at the movement with a soft breath. Wooyoung slips his shirt off and comes closer, kneeling in front of Yeosang and taking his hand. Yeosang watches in awe as he slides his hand along his bare chest. He shivers at the feeling of touching something so beautiful, the person he loves. His fingers graze his perked nipples, swallowing at the soft sound Wooyoung hums out. They lock eyes, and Yeosang realizes he wants him more than any regret or duty could ever convince him otherwise.
Yeosang cups his head, tugging lightly on his ears as he pulls him down into a kiss. He doesn’t think in case his thoughts stop this moment. He just kisses.
“Wooyoung,” he mumbles against his lips, feeling the man’s hands tug at his shirt. “Wooyoung,” he whimpers.
They break apart to strip off Yeosang’s shirt, and Wooyoung climbs onto his lap, admiring his chest with a heavy breath before returning to his lips. Yeosang doesn’t know what to do with his hands, panting as Wooyoung mends their bodies together. He feels Wooyoung’s tongue brush against his, gasping as his taste fills his senses.
He groans, gripping Wooyoung’s waist as he threads his fingers through Yeosang’s hair, pulling gently as he laps his tongue over his.
He knows he’s so hard, but he won’t dare move his hips, afraid the saint will get scared and stop everything. No matter what, he can’t stop.
But Yeosang’s hips instinctively roll up against Wooyoung, and they both groan in surprise, breaking away. Wooyoung rests his forehead against his, looking down at the damage. Fuck… Their bulges are pressed right against each other, lacking any friction, but so lewd just looking at it.
“Wooyoung..ngh,” Yeosang gasps, his hips pulsing slightly. “Th-this again… This only happens w-when we kiss,” he mumbles.
He reaches down and presses against his member, gasping as he tries to push it back down. Wooyoung just stares in awe at the man’s complete innocence. He’s so dazed. He’s so hard. He’s so big. Wooyoung presses a soft kiss to Yeosang’s neck, feeling him shiver against him.
“Yeosangie,” he mumbles into his ear. Yeosang can’t answer, his words all jumbled together. “Should I help you take care of it?”
“...Take care of it? Will it go away then?” Wooyoung nods, slowly rolling his hips against Yeosang’s. Yeosang moans, panicking as the feeling becomes even more overwhelmingly good.
“Can I use my hands?” Wooyoung asks, his fingers resting on Yeosang’s stomach, feeling it tense with every subtle pulse.
“O-okay,” he breathes.
Wooyoung slowly cups Yeosang’s hardness, watching his expressions closely with each movement. It twitches in his hold as he gently strokes him over his pants. Yeosang bites his lip, his expression twisting as he fights back lewd noises. Wooyoung pulls down his pants just enough to pull out his member, groaning at the sight of it. He wants to pounce on Yeosang right now, but he knows it’ll be too overwhelming for him. His cock is so big, and Wooyoung has to use two hands to stroke it once. Yeosang squeaks, grabbing Wooyoung’s wrists.
“Wait, wait!” he whines. Wooyoung places a gentle kiss on his rosy cheek, stopping his movement. “You too.”
“Hmm?” he hums, too impatient to listen closely.
“You’re big too.” Wooyoung huffs a laugh, stroking Yeosang once more, and his hands fall away from his wrists to grip Wooyoung’s waist.
“Don’t worry about me,” he mumbles against his skin, starting a slow pace. Yeosang can’t control his sounds, leaking precum all over Wooyoung’s hands. It’s so fucking dirty. “I won’t be able to stop if you get me started.”
Yeosang’s sweet voice in his ear has him red and throbbing, but he focuses on Yeosang’s pleasure, making sure he feels so good he’ll never run away again. Fuck love. He just wants Yeosang like this forever.
He swipes his thumb over the tip, starting to speed up as his dick gets wetter and wetter. The slick sounds fill the warm air along with Yeosang’s moans. He grips tighter and goes faster, struggling to keep his pace as Yeosang’s hips buck up when he feels especially good.
“Woo~! Nghh… Wooyoung, I can’t! S-something….” Wooyoung stops his movements, panting against Yeosang’s neck. He looks down at the mess between them. He needs to taste him right now. He doesn’t ask, just gets off his lap to lean down. Yeosang whimpers in confusion, watching with glossy eyes as Wooyoung lowers his lips to his tip. “What are you-!” They both practically roll their eyes back at the same time. Yeosang tastes so fucking good, Wooyoung’s hand trembling as it hesitantly reaches for his own erection, kneading it to give some relief. He licks down Yeosang’s length, his fingers intertwining in Wooyoung’s hair. When Wooyoung finally sinks his mouth down, Yeosang bucks his hips up, a low, deep sound escaping his lips. Wooyoung bobs his head, moaning along with Yeosang as they both lose control. Wooyoung ruts against his own hand as he sucks and licks at Yeosang’s cock. The whole time he’s thinking how much he wants him inside of him… how much he wants to torture Yeosang with pleasure just so he can keep hearing these sounds.
When Yeosang is close again, Wooyoung doesn’t stop. His hips meet Wooyoung’s movement until his voice gets more and more desperate. He holds Wooyoung down, breathing heavily as he feels himself surrounded by his wet warmth. He chants Wooyoung’s name as he cums long and hard, whining and crying as he pulses, riding out the best pleasure of his life. Wooyoung doesn’t fight it, just hollows his mouth and breathes slowly through his nose, feeling Yeosang tug on his hair. When he finally lets him come back up, Yeosang pulls him higher, so that their eyes meet, and Wooyoung’s jaw goes slack as Yeosang gently squishes his cheeks with his other hand. His cum is sticky and thick, strung together from every crevice of Wooyoung’s mouth. It spills out and onto his messy cock, and Yeosang gazes at the sight with furrowed brows, his expression completely fucked-out.
“Are y-you supposed to swallow it?” Yeosang mumbles, letting Wooyoung close his mouth. Wooyoung does swallow it, smiling sweetly.
“I don’t,” he says. “But you taste too good to let it go to waste.” Yeosang blushes even more, looking down at his lips. “Want to taste?”
He watches Wooyoung lick his lips. “...Okay,” he breathes.
Yeosang is beyond embarrassed, tasting himself on Wooyoung’s tongue. Wooyoung doesn’t waste a second, practically fucking Yeosang’s mouth with his tongue, swirling the leftover cum around between them. When he’s satisfied, he slowly lets their lips part before sitting beside him against the tree.
They both catch their breaths, and Yeosang shyly tucks himself away.
“I know you grew up… as a saint and stuff,” Wooyoung mumbles. “But you really don’t know anything about sex?”
Yeosang’s quiet, puckering his lips slightly. “Yeah. I was never taught..”
“Well, no one really teaches you…” Wooyoung chuckles. “You kind of just learn as you grow up. I guess that’s why.”
There’s a long silence, the two of them just leaned against each other, sitting in the gentle breeze. So many thoughts are almost presented, but no one says a word. Until Wooyoung decides he has to.
“I’m getting married,” he says quietly. He feels the way Yeosang tenses, sensing the sudden throb in his heart.
“You are?” he mumbles. “...To who?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “No one’s proposed to me.”
Yeosang sits up a bit to look over. “Is… someone going to?”
He shrugs. “I guess we’ll see. I’m going to announce it on the radio tomorrow morning. Whatever happens happens.”
Yeosang looks away, out into the horizon. He’s suddenly so panicked, so scared.
“Whoever I marry, I’m leaving the brothel with them.”
He looks back, his eyes wide, but Wooyoung looks calm.
“I don’t care what your decision is right now,” he mumbles, standing up and collecting his shirt. “But I’ve chosen. Now you have to, too.” He goes to leave. “There will be a rose on my curtain until the day I leave in a month. Whenever it is out, you are safe to come to my room. By the time I leave, make your choice.” With that, he goes.
-
“Good morning, Tinytown! The news has already spread to all available bachelors and bachelorettes, I’m sure, but here to announce it himself is none other than Wooyoung Taepung!”
“Good morning, everyone. Thank you all for your support as I worked in the Red Light District these past years. Now that it’s coming to an end, I’m ready to settle down with one person to love. If you think you’re meant to be that person, come to my room and propose marriage. Only one person can woo my heart.”
Yeosang shuts off the radio harshly, nearly pushing it off of his desk. He stares with a clenched jaw at the wall. He’s seething, thinking of another person trying to take Wooyoung away. He wants to go to his room and take him for himself, but… he doesn’t move from his desk. Because the two sides are fighting constantly against each other in his head. If he goes to Wooyoung and accepts his proposal like he so dearly wants to, he’ll have to give up his life of becoming a priest. If he stays, he’ll become a priest, the town’s beloved saint, but he’ll never have Wooyoung.
He slams his head against his desk. He has to choose. It’s so obvious which one he wants to choose. It’s so obvious which one he desires. But he’s so scared.
He goes to the district that night. He tells himself he won’t go see Wooyoung no matter what. He just wants… to come to terms with everything.
The streets are silent, the night peaceful and melancholy. Yeosang gazes up at Wooyoung’s balcony, at the rose hanging on his curtain. He swallows, can’t take his eyes away from it. Wooyoung wants him… but he can’t give his heart away. He wants to climb the wall and kiss him and not care if the whole town sees him do it. He just wants Wooyoung. He turns around quickly, panting as he looks away from the rose.
If someone else comes and proposes to Wooyoung… He may accept. And that’ll be it. He’ll be gone forever by the end of the month. And Yeosang has no right to object to it.
“So you’ve fallen in love with a prostitute, and you’ve kissed him, and you’ve-”
“W-Wooyoung. With Wooyoung,” Yeosang mumbles.
San’s brows raise in confusion. “Wooyoung Taepung??” he questions. Yeosang looks away as he nods. “The one that’s getting married?” He gasps, leaning closer and lowering his voice. “Are you marrying him??”
“No,” he mumbles. “No, I don’t know.” He runs his fingers through his hair, groaning. “I want to go to him. But I can’t.”
San hums, leaning against his hand knowingly. “You can if you want to,” he says simply. “Don’t you feel like the whole world could be against you, but you’d still want to run to him?” Yeosang bites his lip, thinking about it. He does. He really does. But the reality of everythi- “You’re in love. Staying away from him won’t change that. All it’ll do is hurt him.”
“What if going to him just makes the whole world turn against him? What if I hurt him more?”
San scoffs. “You’re worried that Wooyoung will be hurt by what others think?” He swats away the thought. “Just go to him, Sangie. Run away with him. I know you’ve always felt like something big was missing. This is it. You don’t have to give up your love for God. Having only enough love for one thing is bullshit. Your heart can love as many things as it needs. Go love Wooyoung.”
-
Wooyoung is seething more and more with each proposal. He knew Yeosang wouldn’t come here, but every man who isn’t him just makes him want to go to that church and punch the man in the face. No, no, he could never do that. Yeosang’s face is too precious. He slumps against his chair, waving away another distasteful proposal. Should he just accept one of them? It’s been a week, and he’s getting tired of waiting for Yeosang to let his jealousy take over. He waits on his balcony each night, looking out for a bit, but Yeosang never comes.
When the rose dies, he contemplates just throwing it away and forgetting about it. Yeosang isn’t coming. But he leaves it dead in his curtain for one more night.
And that night, there’s a knock at his door.
-
Yeosang is scared out of his mind. He’s dressed in common clothes, a hat, mask, and scarf covering his face as he dashes across the empty streets of the district. The rose is still hanging limply in Wooyoung’s curtain. He hasn’t forgotten about him. He still has a chance. He’s panting, tiptoeing inside the brothel, up the stairs, and past sleeping men and women along the halls and chairs. This is the door.
It swings open as soon as a knock is heard, and Wooyoung pulls Yeosang inside, closing the door as quickly and quietly as he can.
Yeosang is looking around the room, catching his breath as Wooyoung stands at the entrance, gazing at him in the soft moonlight.
“My saint,” he whispers. “You came.” He breathes deeply. “Let me see your face.”
He goes to take off Yeosang’s hat, but the man backs away, shaking his head.
“N-no, I’ll just keep it on,” he mumbles, looking down so that his expression his hidden within the shadows and cloths. Wooyoung furrows his brows, tugging at the scarf around his neck. Yeosang backs away until his legs get caught on the bed and he falls back. Wooyoung climbs onto his lap and finally strips him of his scarf and hat, and… He sighs, looking preciously at the face in front of him. It’s red and streaked with tears, his lips trembling as he tries to hide again.
“My Yeosang,” he sighs, watching Yeosang’s lashes flicker at the sound of his name. “Don’t hide,” he says gently. “I’ve waited so long for this moment. I want to see your beautiful face.” Yeosang hiccups as he finally slowly lowers his hand, gazing up into Wooyoung’s flushed expression. Wooyoung feels his insides warm up at the man’s expression, so vulnerable and innocent. He wants to push Yeosang over the edge until he can’t stop crying. He sighs, tilting his head to the side as Yeosang mumbles on about being embarrassed.
“You.. You’re so close,” he breathes. Wooyoung raises a brow, licking his lips.
“Want me to get off?” He lifts his lips, but Yeosang’s hands grab his hips quickly, tight and confident as he pushes him back down, shaking his head.
“No, no,” he mumbles. “Stay.”
“Why are you so shy, Sangie?” Wooyoung practically purrs, feeling overjoyed, finally feeling a little wanted by the man. He leans down, cupping Yeosang’s jaw and tilting his head so his lips can brush against his ear. “After all we did in that field.” He watches Yeosang’s ear grow bright red, his skin heating up under his gentle fingertips. He leans back to get a look at his new expression, pliant and soft, so seductive like a prey caught in its predator's hands, having lost all hope of escaping. Wooyoung knows Yeosang wanted to be caught the whole time. He just needed to realize it. “Did you like how I kissed you then?” Yeosang swallows hard, looking from Wooyoung’s eyes to his lips before he slowly nods. Fuck, Wooyoung’s having so much fun. He leans closer until their noses brush together, their soft breaths grazing their lips. Yeosang lets out the softest noise of frustration, his grip tightening as he waits for Wooyoung to finally give him what he needs. “Hmm? You want to do it again?” he asks, biting his lip as Yeosang nods quickly. “Once wasn’t enough for you?” He shakes his head, bringing a hand to the back of Wooyoung’s head.
“No,” he breathes, eyeing his lips in desperation. “I want to do it again, please. Please, Wooyoung,” he mumbles. His voice is so fucking whiny, making Wooyoung’s cock twitch against Yeosang’s own with the way they’re lying. How could he ever decline such a voice?
He lets their lips connect, and Yeosang’s fingers tug on Wooyoung’s locks, groaning into his mouth. He pulls him closer, chest on chest, tongue on tongue, cock on cock. They’re panting into each other as they lap desperately, moaning and whimpering at just this act, the slight friction on their erections hardly noticeable in comparison. Yeosang fucking loves it, letting Wooyoung’s tongue devour him. When Wooyoung bites his puffy bottom lip, their eyes meet, and Wooyoung can see the deep, intense blush on Yeosang’s furrowed expression. He looks thoroughly fucked out, and they haven’t even started yet. Wooyoung breaks away with a deep breath, licking his lips just to get a final taste of him.
“Did you like the way I touched you then, too?” he asks, sitting up and admiring his work. Yeosang whimpers, nodding as he glances not-so-innocently down at their connected erections. He did like it. He loved it so much. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, baby,” he mumbles, grinding down just once. Yeosang’s hips buck up, a long whine escaping his puffy lips. “Just like before. And then you’re gonna stuff me full, okay?”
Yeosang’s eyes go wide, his hazy arousal suddenly shaken completely as he becomes suddenly so panicked. “F-Full.. What? But you’re… How…”
Wooyoung raises a brow. “Hmm? You came here thinking all we could do was touch cocks?” Yeosang blushes, frowning a bit as so many unholy thoughts enter his mind. He stares openly at his throbbing bulge, at Wooyoung’s. Wooyoung suddenly takes his hand and brings it around him, pressing it against his ass, plump and erotic. “I wanna feel you in here so~ bad.”
“I.. I don’t know.. ho-”
“I’ll teach you, Sangie,” he purrs, starting to grind down again in a soft rhythm. “I’ll teach you everything. It’ll feel so good.”
Yeosang sighs, sinking deeper into the bed as he feels himself being sucked deeper into Wooyoung’s words. “Teach me…” he mumbles. “Wanna make you feel good.”
Wooyoung swoons, cupping Yeosang’s cheeks and giving him a puffy kiss. “Such a good boy.”
Yeosang moans, his grip on Wooyoung’s waist digging in as he grinds him down against his poor cock. He watches their hips move in sync and wants nothing more than to see them unclothed. He wants to touch them. He needs more. He reaches down and cups Wooyoung’s erection, making the man sigh in satisfaction.
“Go ahead, baby,” he mumbles. “Do whatever you want.”
Yeosang bites his lip as he presses a little harder, fondling it, just imagining how it’ll look, how it’ll feel, when he gets his hands on it raw. He glances at Wooyoung, watching his expression melt with the gentle pleasure. “C-can I…” He tugs lightly on his belt, practically begging in his mind for permission.
Wooyoung smiles sweetly. “Do whatever you want to me, Sangie. I’m yours.”
He doesn’t hesitate, stripping off the belt and tossing it to the floor. He slips down Wooyoung’s pants and whimpers when he sees how his cock is rock hard, just like his. Wooyoung must be feeling the same way, then, if it’s so hard. Wooyoung’s smaller than him, he notices, and it’s so fucking hot. His hand trembles a bit as it slowly wraps around the base, applying the gentlest pressure. Wooyoung watches every movement, his eyes glued to Yeosang’s veiny hands touching him. His gentle touches are ticklish, giving him chills as he fights the urge to ask for something more, something harder. He needs to be patient. Fuck. His hips buck slightly as Yeosang strokes him once, touching the tip curiously. He moans, frowning at how good it feels, just having the saint’s hands on him.
“It feels so good,” he whimpers, encouraging the man with a hand against his own clothed erection. Yeosang shakes his head, pushing Wooyoung’s hand away frantically as he pulls down his pants to free his cock.
“T-Together. I can’t..” he sighs, pushing their cocks together with a soft sob as the sight sends waves of arousal straight through him. He’s mumbling nonsense as he wraps his hands around them both, his eyes boring into the movement. He’s going crazy. The act is driving him insane, having his cock pressed against Wooyoung’s. He wants to watch them rub together until they cream just like his did before. He wants to watch Wooyoung fall apart and make a mess all over him. His strokes are frantic, tight, just like Wooyoung loves. Wooyoung’s hands land on his chest, every breath and vocal mess as he tries to collect his words, his eyes focusing in and out on Yeosang’s determined, flushed expression.
“You like watching us rub together?” he asks, and Yeosang looks up in shock. Had he mumbled it all out loud? “That’s so dirty, Saint,” he teases.
“I d-on’t know..mm what’s wrong with me,” he whimpers, his thumb swiping over their tips, making them both shiver and gasp. The sounds are becoming so lewd, skin on skin, precum squelching in the heated air. They’re both so wet and messy already, rutting into Yeosang’s hands. “You’re so wet,” he mumbles, his lips puffing out as he tries to hold back his pleasured noises. “You… can I taste?” Wooyoung's eyes nearly roll back.
“Fuck, Sangie, seriously?” he mumbles in disbelief, watching Yeosang’s hand retreat to his lips. His jaw drops a bit in awe, watching his pretty lips wrap around his soaked finger, his eyes meeting Wooyoung’s shyly. Yeosang seems to immediately become addicted. Wooyoung knows it doesn’t taste the best, but Yeosang seems to fucking love it, sitting up with heavy breaths.
“Can I do what you d-did the other time?” he mumbles, and Wooyoung almost doesn’t remember until he’s looking at Yeosang’s puffy lips and realizes with a deep throb in his core.
“Fuck, yes,” he whispers.
He looks so hesitant, though. “Can you.. teach me?” he mumbles, as if he’s embarrassed. Wooyoung doesn’t let it sit like that, giving the saint a deep kiss before directing him to the floor.
“Of course,” he says, watching as he naturally gets set between Wooyoung’s dangling legs. He’s already taking Wooyoung’s cock in his hand, gazing at it as he licks his lips. “Fuck, look at you,” he sighs. “It’s not too hard, baby. We’ll go slow. J-just lick it from the bottom to the top first,” he mumbles.
Yeosang watches his reactions careuflly as he does as he’s told, being graced with the scent and taste of Wooyoung overwhelming his senses. He feels like it can’t get any better than this. Watching Wooyoung’s confident expression flicker to something so pleasured and overwhelmed makes him want to do so good for him.
“W-Wrap your lips..hh around the tip, and fffuck~” He squeaks, leaning forward in an abrupt surge of pleasure as Yeosang swirls his tongue around his sensitive tip. He clenches his teeth, his fingers digging into the bedsheets rather than Yeosang’s precious hair. “Just like that, baby,” he moans. “Think you can take some of me? Just let your mouth slide d-down.. Mmhmm,” he sighs. He’s trembling as he tries to deal with the overwhelming pleasure while being gentle and nice. He watches Yeosang slowly lower himself onto his throbbing cock, and tears well in the saint’s eyes, but he looks so determined and desperate to do good.
It escalates quickly, Wooyoung’s voice picking up and spurring on Yeosang until he’s set a desperate pace, and Wooyoung’s gripping his hair, bucking up slightly into his mouth. Tears are slipping down his cheeks, but his own cock rubs embarrassingly hard against Wooyoung’s leg, his own moans vibrating along his member. He pants, spouting nonsense orders for the man to follow, but Yeosang already knows that what he’s doing feels so fucking good for Wooyoung, so he just keeps going until a rougher hand pulls him off completely suddenly.
“S-Stop, Sangie,” Wooyoung breathes quickly. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he groans. “Such an innocent mouth can do something so naughty?” he mumbles. “That was heavenly, Sangie. I w-want you in me so bad, though,” he pants. Fuck, he’s going insane watching Yeosang’s teary face being fucked by his cock. He needs more. Right now. “You’re gonna fucking love it,” he says, gently stroking Yeosang’s hair.
He gets up to get the lube from his drawer, slipping his pants off completely, watching the way Yeosang can’t look away from his bare body. He climbs back onto the bed, holding out his arms for Yeosang to join him.
“Come here, baby,” he says, and Yeosang scrambles to his feet, climbing onto the bed until he meets Wooyoung in the middle, looking like an eager puppy, so cute and innocent if not for the huge cock that keeps distracting Wooyoung from his words. “Wanna help me open up?” he asks, getting on his knees so that his ass is up and spread for Yeosang’s view. He doesn’t look away, watching Wooyoung bring a lubed finger to the throbbing hole, pink and begging for something. Begging for Yeosang. He nods, panting as he gets behind Wooyoung. Wooyoung circles his rim before slowly pressing his finger inside, moaning a whine as he arches into the feeling. Fuck, it’s been soo~ long since he’s actually been fucked. He hands Yeosang the lube, huffing into the sheets as he forces the finger deeper. It’s so tight; he wonders if he’ll be able to fit Yeosang in eventually. “Just do what I do, baby. Then you can stuff me with your cock, okay?” Yeosang nods quickly, and Wooyoung’s finger slips out. He slowly goes to replace it with his own rubbed finger, feeling it be enveloped by wet, warm, tight walls, and he immediately feels his mind go blank besides one thought: he wants his cock deep in this.
He pushes his finger deeper, and Wooyoung instructs him. He circles and thrusts gently until Wooyoung’s shirt is riding up to his head from how arched his back is. He strips it off before hiding his face back in his arms, his legs spreading wider as Yeosang adds another finger. He scissors the warm hole open, adding more and more lube until it’s dripping and throbbing for more. Another finger. Wooyoung can’t stop moaning, and it’s driving Yeosang crazy how he’s causing it all. He’s making Wooyoung feel so good. And he’ll feel even more better once he’s inside him. He’s panting, his cock red and throbbing for something to ease the desire settled deep in him. When Wooyoung stops him, sitting up, he’s nearly about to cum from his spiraling thought alone.
As he’s pushed to the bed, his eyes are frantically moving from Wooyoung’s lips, to his eyes, to his cock pressed against his when he sits down on his lap. “Are you ready.. Sangie?” he purrs, biting his lip as he rubs his dripping hole against the length of Yeosang’s cock. They both let out airy moans, as he lines his tip at the entrance.
Yeosang nods frantically, gripping Wooyoung’s hips. “Yes, yes, yes,” he breathes. “Please..mm~” He lets his hands travel up Wooyoung’s back, pulling his chest down as he sinks lower. Being enveloped by Wooyoung’s warmth has his entire body trembling in pleasure. His lips attach to Wooyoung’s shoulder, his moans filling the silent room. “Yesyesyes,” he whines. “So warm, Youngie.” Wooyoung buries his face in Yeosang’s neck, biting his lip as he whimpers, being stretched open by Yeosang’s thick length. Yeosang's whimpers and moans are spurring him on to go deeper quicker. They’re both so impatient, but it takes patience for Wooyoung to fit him all inside, panting and taking deep breaths as he tries to get used to the feeling without cumming right away.
Yeosang pulls his hips even lower, pressing them impossibly closer. Wooyoung has to sit up to cool off and gain some confidence. Yeosang might feel good, but he still has to lead the saint.
“So b..hh..ig for me, Sangie,” he mumbles, hiding his trembling voice with a soft laugh. Nothing is fucking funny, though.
“I th-ink you’re just so tight,” he breathes, cupping his ass and pulling him forward, then back slowly. “D-Don’t know what to.. do..mmm.”
Wooyoung lets him move him as he likes, getting used to the movement so deep inside. When he finally gets the strength to lift his hips up and drop back down, he has to lean on Yeosang’s chest for support, his brows furrowing. “Sangie….ngh,” he moans, meeting his eyes. “F-feel good?”
Yeosang’s eyes are wide, his breath heavy as he watches him drop back down again, a deep frown covering up the beautiful sounds blessing Wooyoung’s hazy ears. He nods, his hands helping Wooyoung pick up his pace. “Younggie, ahhng, pp-please, you’re ssso… hh..”
“Hmm?” Wooyoung pants, setting a delicious rhythm as he watches Yeosang’s eyes roll back, he head digging into the pillow beneath it. He watches his throat bob as he swallows his own moans, choking on his words and pleas. Wooyoung leans down, pressing harsh kisses to his neck, and Yeosang fucking loves it, picking up Wooyoung’s slack as he pushes his hips up to meet his thrusts faster. Wooyoung nibbles and sucks, watching unholy marks form all over his innocent skin. When he bites down hard on his nape, Yeosang’s hands slam their hips together harshly, and Wooyoung practically screams, his teeth unlatching from his skin as he goes limp against Yeosang, drooling all over the sheets as his body trembles. Wooyoung curses a goodbye to his consciousness as he realizes what Yeosang just hit perfectly. Yeosang doesn’t understand anything other than that it must’ve felt fucking good there. So he keeps hitting hard right in that spot, right at Wooyoung’s prostate, and Wooyoung can hardly help anymore as he succumbs completely to the pleasure of Yeosang’s huge cock.
“G-getting so tight,” Yeosang chokes, his only response the erotic “ah’s” from his lover, bouncing mindlessly as he chases the hardest orgasm of his life. His voice is getting higher as Yeosang’s grunts and whimpers become harsher in his ear. They’re both so fucking close, the sounds of a creamy mess escalating with each thrust. Yeosang’s leaving bruises on his hips as his breaths quicken, and his words become slurred and incomprehensible. “..t’s happenning.nnggg…” he cries, watching his sticky cock slide effortlessly in and out of Wooyoung’s tightening hole. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s gonna cum, just like before, but this feels so much better. This feels so right.
“Mmmee too,” Wooyoung pants, his fingers clawing at Yeosang’s shirt as he sobs in pleasure, trembling. “T-together,” he begs. “Ple~ase in me, Sanige, please,” he sobs. Yeosang doesn’t plan on stopping or pulling out at all. He thrusts deep and hard until he slams Wooyoung’s hips down one last time, and he feels his cock fill his insides completely. It becomes warm and soaked, the white cream leaking out of his puffy hole. He chokes on the air around them as he grinds his cock deep against Wooyoung’s prostate. Wooyoung grabs his own cock and strokes it fast and hard as he feels himself cumming, Yeosang’s cock pulsing inside as he screams, creaming all over Yeosang’s chest. He pants and moans all at the same time, hardly able to breathe as it comes out so long and thick, his fingers tight around his length until he’s trembling in overstimulation, and he’s made a mess of Yeosang and himself.
Yeosang twitches inside, just watching Wooyoung’s eyes roll until he’s weak and trembling on top of him. They’re both panting, tears streaking their cheeks as they try to calm their breaths and bodies. Yeosang reaches up and cups Wooyoung’s cheeks, bringing him down for a soft, slow kiss. He tucks his messy hair behind his ear, groaning as he slowly lifts himself off of his member.
“Take a bath with me, Sangie?” he mumbles against his lips.
-
The water is so warm and soothing against their trembling bodies. Yeosang sits with Wooyoung between his legs, cleaning off their sticky limbs and his leaking hole as they lean against each other peacefully.
“I’m so glad you came,” Wooyoung mumbled into Yeosang’s neck, his eyes closed and sleepy.
Yeosang hums softly, playing with Wooyoung’s limp fingers. He stops at the ring finger, pressing against it gently. “If I hadn’t, would you actually marry a stranger?”
He huffs a soft laugh. “No,” he says plainly. “I just would’ve left on my own, found myself somewhere quiet to live, and thought of you and all that could’ve been.” He nuzzles closer. “Though, realistically, I don’t think I could live without you. You’re the only love I’ve ever known. The only love I’ll ever know.”
“I think I was always going to come here,” he whispers, letting water from his hand gently stream down his arm. “I don’t think I could live if you left without me. I would live a lie without the only human love I’ve ever known.” Wooyoung giggles.
“My saint,” he whispers. “Don’t leave. Love me for good.”
Wooyoung falls asleep in his arms before they finish in the bath, but Yeosang takes care of him without a single complaint, happy to dote on his love, drying him gently and carrying him to bed. He spoons him closely, falling asleep with his face buried deep in his scent.
-
When Wooyoung wakes, he’s blessed with soft, quiet moans in his ear, feeling Yeosang rutting against him from behind. He hums, stretching out happily. When he reaches back and pulls Yeosang in for a soft kiss, he sees the saint is clearly already a mess at such early morning hours. He feels bad at first for making him this way, but… he’ll be able to take care of him from now on, so he doesn’t mind so much.
He takes care of Yeosang, and, when the man decides he needs to leave before the sun rises, so that he can go pack his things, he needs to be taken care of again. And then again after breakfast. And then again after a light kiss. Wooyoung is in heaven, having pleasured and been pleasured all throughout the day by his lovely saint. They’ve learned so many things about each other, that it feels like they’ve been together like this forever.
Until it’s the next morning, at horribly early hours, and he really does need to leave. He needs to pack, and then they’ll meet at the train station to travel to a new town, where no one knows Wooyoung Taepung, and no one knows the saint of Tinytown. Where they can be together.
-
“You’re really leaving?” Seonghwa cries, his face buried in Wooyoung’s hair as he hugs him tightly at the door. Hongjoong is standing behind him quietly rather than teasingly, and Wooyoung feels himself tearing up, too. Seonghwa puts his hands on his shoulders as he looks him up and down. “You’ll eat three meals a day, and an extra to gain weight. You’ll make sure he treats you right, and you’ll write to us every week,” he says, sniffling. Wooyoung nods, wiping away a small tear.
“Thank you for everything, Wooyoung,” Hongjoong says, joining the two of them at the door. “For saving the district, for giving us business, for helping us all with our lives. You’re always family here. If you ever need a place to go, to escape, anything.” He cups Wooyoung’s cheeks and squeezes them lovingly. “Visit us, okay?”
Wooyoung didn’t think, when he first came here, that leaving would have him in tears, but here he is. He can’t wait to live his new life with Yeosang, but he’ll miss his family here dearly.
But it all kind of fades away when he sees Yeosang’s face again. He’s blushing hard, standing up completely straight as he waves to Wooyoung excitedly. There’s no use being hesitant. Wooyoung’s never been hesitant, and it’s all led him to this point, so maybe it isn’t that bad after all.
-
“Breaking news, ladies and gentlemen! It looks like two Tinytown treasures have disappeared without a word in the night! Wooyoung Taepung and our saint, Yeosang, are nowhere to be seen! Whether related or not, your favorite hosts, Yunho and Mingi, will keep you updated!”
⭑ bf!mingi x gf!reader x bestie!yunho
⭑ planning to buy a house, get married and start a family within the next few years, you and mingi are the blueprint for the perfect relationship— until one of yunho’s infamous stories about his intriguing sex life gets stuck in your head for a little too long, and has you curious about spicing up your own sex life.
⭑ smut minors dni, praise, oral/both ways, p in v, degradation, choking, mention of toys, overstim, voyeurism? heavy on dom/sub dynamics, reader is a switch and so is mingi, yunho is a dom, very experimental/educational vibe, mxm
⭑ part one of ? / wc 21.4k
⭑ — this idea came to me late at night and plagued me until i finished writing it. i am obsessed with this trio, this dynamic. i love them so and i hope you do too <3
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Yunho faced the two of you from the twin blue upholstered couch across your living room, his brows slanted, upper lip raised in clear disgust. “Iron Man 2 clears the entire verse, best MCU movie to date.”
You faced your boyfriend with a smile, eyebrows raised, expression saying ‘Are you really gonna take that?’
Lopsided front teeth poked out from his pink, plump lips, a smile that was fighting to keep itself hidden. Mingi shook his head and leaned back, his heavy palm sliding over your knee, “Can’t argue with that, excuse me for wanting to watch Endgame.”
“Psychotic suggestion for movie night,” Yunho says and a disbelieving huff of a laugh falls from his lips right after, “Excuse me for not being in the mood to cry.”
“What if we watch a romcom?” You look between the two who give you wary glances, but don’t respond. “If we’re going to watch a Marvel movie, we’re starting from the beginning and not watching anything else until we finish all of them. Is that something either of you want to commit to?”
They both shrug as if you have all the time in the world, because you do. Every Friday night Yunho came over with snacks and soda in tow, sometimes beer if he had a particularly shitty week, and the three of you sat around your living room shooting the shit until you decided on a movie. It was an unspoken thing, your movie nights, your weekly hangouts, they’d started almost immediately upon moving into your shared apartment with your boyfriend, Mingi, and simply never stopped. Rarely did a week go missed.
You huffed a heavy breath, sinking back into your couch, snuggling up to Mingi. You slid your gaze over to Yunho who held the remote, “What are you waiting for? Everyone knows the first watch is The First Avenger.”
Yunho didn’t respond, but instead pointed the remote toward the TV, his hand completely swallowing the device beneath his palm as he searched the movie and put it on. You tugged the blanket that laid over the back of the couch over yourself and Mingi, laying your head over his shoulder, letting your arms wrap around one of his, letting his warmth seep into you. It’s been years since you’ve seen this movie, since any of you have seen this movie probably, yet your brain wanted to do anything else but pay attention.
With it being days after your period ended you were now nearing dangerous territory, ovulation week, a week your boyfriend adored yet had to physically prepare himself for. You resembled a fucking hormone monster for a long five days, needing your boyfriend at all hours of the day to tame the fire that would not die down inside you. Before Yunho came over Mingi had already taken you six ways to Sunday, you only stopped because Yunho trudged inside your apartment with a six pack and a face contorted with grief.
Another situationship over, he’d said. Not amicably, either.
You didn’t see the big deal, she wasn’t anything special, the girl he was hooking up with six months ago that he ended things with was better for him than this one. But Yunho is Yunho, somehow still a glutton for punishment as if it didn’t completely offset how he was with women, how he fucked. Not that you knew from experience, but from the stories he’s told while five beers deep, lounged out in your living room, complaining to you and your boyfriend, you’ve learned some things.
Things you could not think about right now. Not while your body was begging you to make a baby, not while you were literally laying on your boyfriend, not while Yunho was sitting just across the living room.
Right now was not the time.
But would it ever be the time to think about your boyfriend’s best friend’s sex life?
It’s not that you inherently wanted Yunho. You couldn’t possibly deny a gorgeous man’s beauty, but it wasn’t about wanting Yunho. It was the stories, he never should have opened his fucking mouth– how he naturally slips into dominance with every woman he sleeps with, no, he doesn’t slip, it’s intentional.
Yunho is a Dom. How he instructs, how he expects submission, how he corrects, how he tames.
Your sex life with Mingi was far from dull, Yunho and his stupid stories should be miles from your mind, but you can’t control the thoughts, especially not right now. You untwist your arms from around Mingi’s bicep, letting your palm fall to his thigh, his bare skin feeling like velvet. So soft despite the hair that grew sparsely in that area, you’d give anything to let your tongue lick up the skin, to watch his eyes roll back, to hear his deep groan as you suck a mark into him.
Your thighs tightened at the thought, eyebrows twisting because you know Mingi could feel it, and how he shifted beneath you confirmed it. You tilted your head, peeking up at him with a sheepish look through your lashes, just to be met with a disapproving crinkle between his brows.
You could basically hear his thoughts, Don’t even think about it.
You almost pouted. I need you. Now.
He shook his head once. Not here.
You looked toward the hallway where your bathroom was, that led to your bedroom. We have plenty of options.
He glanced at Yunho, then back at you. When he leaves, I’ll take care of you.
You held his gaze, I can’t wait that long.
He didn’t back down. You can, and you will.
You huffed, shuffling to the side, putting inches of space between yourself and your boyfriend. You caught the sideways glance from Yunho which lasted all of a millisecond before his eyes were back on the screen, watching the movie again. You pouted, arms crossing over your stomach, legs propped up on the coffee table in front of you that was littered with empty bottles of beer and half-filled chip bowls.
Mingi clearly wasn’t going to crack, and you could hold onto your anger until it killed you, so you leaned onto the armrest of the opposite side of the couch, the pillow shoved beneath you not giving a shred of the comfort your boyfriend’s body did. You kept your eyes trained on the screen, brain whirling in frustration and arousal, letting yourself daydream about Yunho’s debauched sex life until your eyes inevitably closed.
You woke to fingers hooking into your waistband, sliding it down your thighs with careful precision, like he didn’t want to wake you. You lifted your hips anyhow, welcoming the head of black hair between your legs, eyes still heavy and low-lidded with sleep. Mingi looked up at you through thick lashes, gaze heavy, his lips slightly parted, as if he’s been waiting for this.
“He just left,” he said like an excuse as your sweatpants hit the floor, black panties folded into the gray fabric, a contrast to your deep hardwood floors. Your back arched on command as he bent down, laying on his stomach, strong arms hooking under your thighs.
“Mm, needed this pussy just as much as she needed me,” he didn’t dare glance back up at you, eyes zeroed in on your center, leaning in just as your legs parted. He started slowly, tongue slipping through your folds, his eyes softly shut, ripping mewls from the back of your throat, low and grumbled, muddled with sleep.
Your hand flew to his hair as your chin tipped back, your neck digging into the uncomfortable armrest, the pillow beneath you doing nothing to soothe the ache. You didn’t care, you barely noticed, not with your boyfriend’s head between your legs, lips wrapped around your clit, sucking just the way you liked. He groaned as you pulled on his roots, tongue flattening against your folds, sliding upward to draw circles into your clit.
You sighed, staring at him through heavy lids, watching as his face contorted in pleasure, how his hips rutted into the cushions at the end of the couch. He pulled a hand from beneath your thigh, ripping his mouth away to spread your folds with his fingers, finally glancing up at you. Noticing your expression, he let out a huff of amusement, lips tilted in a smirk, “Have a good nap?”
Eyebrows knitted in pleasure and anticipation, you nodded, lips parted, fingers that fell to the couch gripping at the fabric. He chuckled as he inserted the tip of his middle finger into your center, earning a gasp from you. With his focus back at your core, he asked, “What had you so worked up?”
You were thankful he kept his eyes down, you couldn’t control the way your eyes widened ever so slightly, couldn’t hide your reaction to the last question you’d expect him to ask. You wished you could avoid the question, you couldn’t answer honestly and say that you were daydreaming about his best friend’s sex life.
You stuttered, “S-Steve Rogers was on the screen.”
He paused, looking back up at you with his eyebrows raised, “Steve Rogers had you ready to fuck me in the bathroom with Yunho, of all people, here?”
You cracked a smile, it was kind of funny, even funnier that it was believable. “Can you blame me?”
“No,” he bid you one more amused glance before he slipped his middle finger inside you, “I can’t.”
You gasped a moan, back arching again, hips bucking up to meet the length of his finger. He pumped it inside of you once, twice before he was curling it, the pad of his finger rubbing up against that spot inside you that made your bones feel like jelly. You were loud now, moans slipping from your lips one after another as he built up a rhythm, his finger curling into you with each thrust, putting pressure where you needed it. When he brought his lips back down to suck on your clit your hands flew to his roots again, holding him there, broken cries leaving your lips, he was so fucking good at this.
He knew how to coax you to orgasm better than you did by now. You supposed after being together for years, he should. You gasped when his teeth grazed your clit, hips bucking into him, curses flying from your lips. “F-fuck,” you hissed, “Yes, Mingi, just like that.”
He grunted in response, feeling your walls tightening around his finger, quickening his pace, the rhythm you needed to push you over the edge. Your legs shook around his head, your breath catching in your throat, shakily inhaling with each wave of pleasure as he brought you to orgasm with ease, movements he’s been perfecting for years now.
“Please tell me you’re planning on fucking me again,” you gave yourself no rest, staring at him through glassy eyes, your body heavy and slightly spent, you didn’t even know what number orgasm you were on today.
“I don’t know if my dick still works,” he sat back on his calves, pulling your body towards him with your hips. One fluid movement, so easy, he was so strong, he could throw you around if he wanted to, god, you wish he wanted to.
You rolled your eyes, arms reaching in front of you to wrap around his biceps, letting your fingers slip beneath the sleeves of his tee shirt as he bent down, bringing his face to yours. “I watched you hump the couch two minutes ago, Mingi.”
“Hey,” he pulled back before you could attach your lips to his, “Don’t make fun of me for that.”
“What?” You smiled, head tilting to the side, “I would never.”
He pouted, bottom lip jutting out, wet and plump and soft, your arms slid up to flatten your hands around his shoulders, pulling him back down. “I think it’s sexy that eating me out makes you desperate.”
He finally kissed you, tongue slipping into your mouth, letting you taste yourself. You hummed, stretching your legs to lay them over his thighs, pulling him into you, where he rutted his hips into yours the second you made contact. You kissed for a while, letting your tongues sloppily lick into each other’s mouths, your hands flying into his hair again, his hands sliding down your torso. You let your mind drift as you kissed, thinking about how he pulled you into him so easily, how much he could rough you up if he wanted to, if he had a dominant bone in his body.
Mingi is a lot of things, but you would never say dominant is one of them. Over six feet tall and so fucking strong, Mingi seemed intimidating until the moment he opened his mouth. Sweet, caring, eager to please, Mingi would do anything for you. He’d fight wars for you, swim across the ocean, you shouldn’t want anything more. You shouldn’t want anything different.
And you don’t. Not really.
Mingi is perfect how he is, you wouldn’t want him any other way. But curious you are, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he’d be like if he treated you like a pet rather than his girlfriend. Would he be anything like how Yunho describes his encounters? Would he be strict, would he control when you came, how you came? Would he choke you, slap you, take you in any way he wanted, instead of what you wanted?
What you wanted was to be fucked, and as Mingi slipped his sweatpants halfway down his flexed thighs and lined himself up with your center, you knew what you wanted would always be his top priority. Song Mingi didn’t know what the word selfish meant.
You didn’t deserve it, you acted like a brat earlier, huffing out of annoyance and putting physical space between you because you didn’t get what you wanted. But instead of punishing you, instead of fucking you only to get himself off, of denying you the pleasure of another orgasm, Mingi woke you up with his face between your legs. Because he knew you, what you wanted, what you needed, and Mingi’s life’s pleasure is making you happy.
You cried out as he sheathed himself inside you, nails painting crescents into his biceps, your eyes flying to the back of your head, flushing out your entire thought process. No, Mingi is perfect, the way he carves himself space inside you as if it’s the first time, every time, is more than you could ever ask for. He leaned back down, barely attaching his lips to yours, only the sounds of your breath and skin slapping against skin to be heard in your living room.
With his hands still wrapped around your hips he tilted them upward, fucking into you harshly, angled to hit that same spot inside you, he wasn’t in the mood to draw this out and you couldn’t blame him. You’ve been insatiable all day, when you woke up, in the car earlier, against the kitchen counter before Yunho came over, you wondered if he had anything left to give you. You slid your hand down between your legs, drawing quick circles over your clit, your jaw falling slack, lips unresponsive against Mingi’s.
“Gonna cum for me already, hmm?” He tried his best to sound like he wasn’t completely losing it, voice strained yet still teasing. His hips stuttering told the truth he tried to hide, he was just as close as you were.
“Yes,” you whispered into his mouth, voice high pitched, on the cusp of orgasm, your hips meeting his thrusts like you couldn’t get him deep enough.
He let his forehead press against yours, both surfaces coated in sweat, mixing together in their meeting, getting a glimpse of his fucked out face was enough to send you over the edge. Your knees tightened around his torso as you came, moans guttural and unabashed, embarrassment might’ve crossed your mind two years ago. But now he’s seen everything, he’s heard everything, he aches for it, if you aren’t cross-eyed and crying into his ear, he knows he isn’t hitting it right.
“Yes, baby, that’s it, so fucking good,” he praises, hands gripping under your thighs, pressing them back, bending you in half. “Gonna fill this pussy up.”
Chest heaving, mouth ajar and unable to close, you could have finished again at the sight of him. Sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, the muscles surrounding his hips peeking out from beneath the hem of his tee, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, Mingi was a vision, a sight to be seen.
“Please,” you begged, voice whiney and desperate, “Wanna feel you cum inside, I need it.”
His thrusts turned erratic, smacking into you harshly, a deep groan leaving his lips as he emptied himself inside you, fingers holding onto your legs tight as he came. Where you wouldn’t usually notice the sharp pain of his grip, your senses were on high alert, the feeling making you moan with him, the pain mixing with the comforting warmth of his cum filling you up. Hypnotizing, addicting, for a moment you thought maybe this wasn’t ovulation brain– maybe this was something you were really curious about.
Maybe something you really wanted to try.
He keeled over, lips finding yours again, palms softly running over where he’d just gripped onto you, soothing the area. Your skin burned under his touch, you wanted him to do it again, harder this time, maybe wrap one of his pretty hands around your throat–
“You’re cut off for the night,” he said into your lips, then pressed a kiss to your cheek. “No more sex.”
“Boo,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, crossing your ankles over his back, “If I keep you here maybe you’ll get hard again.”
He laughed into your cheek, heavy and genuine, “You’re terrifying when you’re ovulating.”
“Says the man who just came inside me,” you pressed a kiss to his hair, then loosened your grip on him. “You want a baby more than I do at this point.”
He shrugs as he sits up, pulling out of you, “Sue me.”
“We have a timeline, Song Mingi.”
Sundresses, swim trunks and margaritas surrounded you, all of your friends bouncing around Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s massive backyard, a ridiculously sized plot of land behind a farm-style rancher that they bought just last year.
Don’t mind the setup, Seonghwa said, We’re still renovating!
Meanwhile an inground pool enclosed by several feet of perfectly laid concrete took over the space just outside the back door, a tiki bar, a patio with a full grill, a table and chairs, couches, a fucking fire pit… We’re still renovating, your ass. It was both perfect and absolutely ridiculous how much they have it together in contrast to yours and Mingi’s one bedroom apartment two towns over.
They wanted to be the house, the place where all your friends and families gathered, the permanent hosts, and damn, did they succeed. They’ve been planning Wooyoung’s going away party ever since he broke the news of his job offer three states away, a bittersweet gathering, both in congratulations for Wooyoung’s raise and sadness that such an important voice in your friend group would be so far away. You hoped it wasn’t permanent, the selfish part of you hoped he hated it and came back to you guys immediately, he was the biggest light amongst you, one of your favorite people to be around, but you were also proud of him for his success, his hard work paying off.
You could hear him laughing now from across the lawn, chatting with his girlfriend, Sana, Jongho and his girlfriend Jihyo, about god knows what, the sound warming your heart while breaking it simultaneously. You’d miss him more than he knew.
“Want another, my love?” Mingi came up behind you where you sat, pressing a swift kiss to your cheek, stealing your glass out of your hand.
You nodded, “Yes, please,” and watched him scurry off toward the tiki bar, Yunho and his date sitting at the teal colored stools lined up on the outside. You watched Yunho’s head turn toward Mingi, how he got off his stool to follow Mingi behind the bar, no doubt to help him make you another margarita.
You turned your head back to the group lounging on the couches, Yeosang and his girlfriend Tzuyu, Hongjoong and Seonghwa, San and his boyfriend Jongin, everyone in the middle of a conversation you had accidentally clocked out of. You crossed your leg over your other one, fixing how your sundress laid over them, trying to ignore the sweaty stick of the summer heat on your skin, the alcohol that warmed your blood doing nothing to cool you down.
Past seven, the sun was still annoyingly bright and agonizing, your hair tied up atop your head, probably matted at this point from the time you spent in the pool earlier.
“...I keep telling you that you need to fire him,” San says to Hongjoong, his top lip bent in irritation, “He’s nothing but a lazy nuisance. If he messes up one more deal, I’m gonna talk to him myself.”
“He just started, San,” Hongjoong shook his head, “Cut the man a break.”
San sips his whiskey instead of responding, his hand laying over Jongin’s knee, and it’s the reminder you needed as to why you initially clocked out of the conversation. You hated when they started talking business– even if that’s how all of them remain close, minus Wooyoung and Jongho, who are old college friends of Mingi and the others. They were all college friends, the group of them in the same fraternity, still close as ever post-grad, even now that so many of them work at the same firm.
You loved when your parties and hangouts stayed free-spirited, light hearted, less talk about work and more stories from their college party days. Those stories you loved, especially the ones that included your boyfriend, the ones that told you exactly who he was before he met you. Not one story was surprising, though, he’s the same lover boy he’s always been, back then just included a lot more keg stands.
You let your eyes drift again, moving back to the tiki bar, where you caught Mingi, Yunho and his date walking towards where you sat around the fire pit. You shot them a tight lipped smile, grateful they were coming to join in on the conversation, hopefully derailing it to something more enjoyable.
“Wooyoung!” Seonghwa called across the lawn, “Why don’t you guys come join us?”
You grabbed your glass from Mingi as he sat down next to you, thanking him before you took a sip. Cold and refreshing, just what you needed to cool you off, tequila and summer was your favorite combination. Yunho sat down beside Mingi, and you watched as his date propped herself on his knee, her hands folded in her lap, crinkling the fabric of her pretty sundress. Yunho sat back, one hand holding his beer, the other haphazardly laid on her thigh as if it was nothing.
You wondered if that’s something he told her to do, or if she chose to sit there herself. There was space next to him, even more space on the couches across from you, surrounding the fire pit. Was that a part of it? Yunho’s game? Maybe it’s not a game, a lifestyle rather than some joke, a clear show of possession so everyone in the circle knew she belonged to Yunho.
Your tongue poked out to swipe over your bottom lip, ripping your eyes away from the pair, shoving the curiosity down. You turned into Mingi, crossing your other leg instead, your entire body leaning into him. You wondered if Mingi would ever ask something like that of you, maybe he would if he ever got jealous enough.
Mingi isn’t the jealous type, though. He never has been. He has full trust in you, and that trust outweighs everything, lingering eyes of others, shameless flirting that you never caught on to. Even that one time where Yeosang’s hand lingered on your forearm for a little too long after too many drinks, telling you how gorgeous you looked in blue, Mingi still didn’t care. He nodded his head with an excited smile and said, I know, right?
You wondered what Yunho would do in that situation. Would he rip your arm away, take you into an unused bedroom, a storage closet even, and remind you who you belonged to? Would he leave marks, trailing from your jaw to your chest, to show who owned you if they stepped too close?
Mingi nudged you with his shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to his concerned expression, giving him a small smile. He quietly asked, “You okay? Tired?”
You shrugged, “Was just thinking.”
He leaned over, kissing the top of your head, “Don’t think too hard, I’m starting to see steam coming out of your ears.”
You smiled, a huff of amusement leaving your lips. You don’t even know where you had been staring, if it was at anyone, you needed to control your thoughts, but they were starting to plague you. Especially when you caught Yunho holding up his beer bottle an inch above where it rested on his thigh, how his date immediately caught on, taking the empty glass and standing up to get him another. She was his date, it’s not like she was his girlfriend, someone who knows him well enough to understand his body language without a word being spoken.
The more you saw, the more you understood, the more it made sense. They were playing, even now, in front of everyone. You didn’t like the burning in your gut, the sting of jealousy, the interest it brought you, how a part of you wanted to try being in her situation. If you could be good, if you could pick up on cues so easily, so fast, if you could please. Will she be rewarded for it later? What does that look like?
You ripped your attention away again, blinking, staring down at your margarita held between your fingers. You could be completely wrong, all of this could be innocent, she could be sitting on his lap because she wanted to be there. Maybe she got him another beer because she was being a good date, doting on him. You could be sexualizing it for no reason, which changes the burning in your gut to a burn of shame, embarrassment that you’re sitting with your entire group of friends, once again pondering over Yunho’s sex life.
“What do you say we play beer pong, for old time’s sake?” Wooyoung’s loud voice washed over you like a bucket of cold water, grabbing your attention. Groans and laughter were mixed among the group, and Wooyoung tilted his head, his smile growing larger.
“How old are we?” Jongho smacked his arm, sitting on the side of the chair Jihyo was sitting in, one thigh on either side of the armrest, “Twenty?”
“Come on,” Wooyoung begged, his lips bending to a pout, “When’s the next time you guys are going to see me?”
“Guilt tripping us into playing beer pong,” San shakes his head, a smile on his cheeks, dimples out on display, “Very you– And it worked.”
Wooyoung cheered and Sana turned her gaze your way, meeting your eye, shaking her head with an amused smile on her face. You mirrored her expression, letting your eyes slide to Jihyo and Tzuyu, all four of you mentally preparing to sit on the sidelines while your boyfriends got trashed. All of you would have to deal with their hangovers in the morning.
An hour later, you and the three girls plus Jongin were all seated just off to the side of the beer pong table, where all eight boys were loudly playing, laughing, or taunting the ones currently in the middle of a game. You listened to the commentary just as much as you were watching the game unfold, your ear catching every other sentence, laughing when one of them made a remark that was out of pocket, but the five of you currently in the midst of conversation didn’t have much attention left to give the game behind you.
“...And she said she was not giving him the ring. It’s fucked up,” Sana sat back in her seat, her arms crossed over her bikini top, in the middle of telling a story. “She said she’d rethink it if I stayed with him for over a year after we move away, but I don’t believe her one bit.”
“Maybe she’s telling the truth, she’s probably just watching out for her son,” Tzuyu smiled at Sana, ever so optimistic, always looking at the bright side. Her brown hair laid in long braids down her shoulders, far past her bikini top, the tips just caressing the hem of her denim shorts. You tightened your lips, that was not what Sana wanted to hear right now. Wooyoung’s mom has never liked Sana, and you’re starting to think she never will.
“It’s crazy how she thinks she can control your relationship, I mean, Wooyoung is twenty seven. He’s far past the age of her coddling him,” Jihyo added with her face twisted in disgust, that was what Sana wanted to hear, Jihyo was always good at fulfilling whatever idea Sana came up with. The two of them were a pair, the moon and the sun, where Jihyo appeared harsh and was sweet as candy, Sana was bright and colorful until she bared her teeth.
“I know!” Sana said, a little too loudly, nervously glancing at the table behind you to check that none of the guys heard her, blonde hair moving with her. You’ve always been on Woo’s mom’s side, you always expected him to end up with someone… Nicer. He deserved someone who would treat him like a king, but in a way, you supposed Sana did treat him like one. Anyone else who wasn’t Wooyoung, though? That was a different story.
“I’m sure she’ll give in,” Jongin added, an encouraging smile on his face, he knows Sana just as well as you do by now. A linen button up laid loosely over his shoulders, the white a contrast to his golden, sunkissed skin. Him and San must have spent a lot of time at San’s beach house this summer.
This was always the dynamic between you, the partners. Jihyo genuinely believed what she said to Sana, Tzuyu was supportive, and Jongin tried to keep the peace. You kept quiet, you weren’t much of a liar, and your brain couldn’t be farther from Sana’s impertinence.
Your knee bounced, margarita watered down and loosely held between your fingers, Yunho’s date was glued to his side at the table behind you. She didn’t leave him once, not when Tzuyu invited her to sit with you, not when Yunho was actually playing the game. She respectfully declined with a bashful smile, cheeks rosy and chest gleaming with a sheen of sweat, then she stayed hung off of Yunho’s arm like an accessory.
It was beginning to fucking consume you. Was that one of his rules? Was she not allowed to leave his side, stuck there to be his personal waitress? Was she getting off on it, too?
Was the reward really worth it?
“Hello?” Jihyo tapped your knee, pulling your attention again, her smile amused as if catching you off guard was the funniest thing in the world.
“Sorry,” you tried to smile, tucking your hair behind your ear, “Did I miss something?”
“I asked how Mingi is, how you guys are,” Sana smiled the same way Jihyo did, “What’s got you so out of it today?”
You forced a chuckle, “My bad, I didn’t get good sleep last night, the margaritas are making me sleepy.” A lie so easily told, white lies you could handle. “We’re good, thinking about moving into something bigger soon.”
“Oh?” Tzuyu asked excitedly, “You guys have been in that apartment for years, are you thinking about renting or buying?”
A two-story, white house, with three bedrooms and an open floor plan, yes, you were thinking about buying. You fought to not glance behind you, keeping your eyes trained on Tzuyu, “If we can get a good loan for a mortgage, we’ll own.”
Tzuyu cheered, her grin bright and wide, “I’m so happy for you, me and Yeosang always talk about how perfect you guys are together. Do you think he’s planning on proposing this year?”
You smiled, a shy giggle escaping you as you stared down at your margarita again, “I think so.”
“Your wedding is going to be gorgeous,” Sana adds from across the small table between your chairs, “If it’s anything like how you decorate your apartment– and the bridesmaid dresses, don’t even get me started.”
You waved a hand, ignoring the bridesmaid comment, “I won’t, I’m not jinxing it. Who knows what might happen?”
You catch Jihyo as she rolls her eyes, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he proposed tomorrow, you’ve been together longer than any of us. You’re the OG girlfriend.”
That ripped a laugh from your chest, it’s true, you’ve been with Mingi long before any of the other guys’ partners entered the picture. Jongin interrupted, “I could help you with a mortgage loan, you know, my dad’s a banker.”
“When the time comes,” you nodded toward the brown haired man with kind eyes, then finally let your eyes fall to the table behind you, seeing who was playing now.
Who might still be glued to their date.
Mingi and Yunho were playing Yeosang and Wooyoung, a cocky smile on your boyfriend’s cheeks, a lazy smirk on Yunho’s. They must be winning.
And his date, her dark hair up now, in a claw clip behind her head, two pieces fallen out and framing her face perfectly. She stood just beside Yunho, her drink clasped in her hands, barely a sip drank from the clear glass. You wondered if she was allowed to drink, or if that was one of his rules, too.
Your lips pursed and you stood up, legs bringing you to your boyfriend before you could think about it. You slid in between him and San, the dimpled man throwing an arm over your shoulders, “You come to play?”
You smiled up at him, shaking your head, “Just wanted to watch.”
“Wanna watch me win,” Mingi added, shooting you a wink, then tossed the ball across the table, sinking it into one of the red solo cups filled with water.
You clapped with the rest of the boys, your grin wide as a low whistle left your lips, staring down the table at Yeosang and Wooyoung who wore red cheeks and sour faces. The difference in the amount of cups left standing made it clear who was winning, not that it surprised you, Mingi was always more competitive when he had Yunho by his side.
You watched as Yunho’s date tugged on his wrist, whispering something into his ear, and he nodded down at her. She silently excused herself, dress flowing in the breeze as she walked across the patio, inside the back door.
You watched, and then your legs were moving before you could stop yourself. You followed her in, just as she was draining her glass into the kitchen sink, one of her hands on her hip.
She turned to you as the backdoor snapped shut, surprise on her face, eyebrows raised and lips parted. “Oh! Sorry, I would have left the door open for you.”
Ah, fuck, she’s nice. You smiled, walking across the hardwood floor, your sandals smacking with every step, “No biggie, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet, I wanted to say hello.” You introduced yourself, a smile on your cheeks, “Not in the mood to drink?”
She glanced down at the empty glass in her hands, then at the sink, then up to you. She laughed nervously, “I'm a slow drinker, it got watered down, not all that tasty anymore.”
You slowly nodded your head, “Totally get that. Did you need help finding the bathroom?”
She looked around Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s kitchen as if you reminded her why she walked in here, the bathroom nowhere to be found. She smiled again, her cheeks rosy and squishable, face completely bare beside mascara, she’s adorable. A perfect, submissive girl. “Yes, please, that’d be great.”
“Down that hallway and to the right,” you pointed to the dark hallway and she thanked you, setting her glass down in the sink and scurrying off in the direction of the bathroom. When she was out of eyesight, you pouted, you don’t know what you expected from coming in here, but you definitely didn’t learn anything new. You took a sip of your margarita, setting a hand on the kitchen island for purchase, your mind whirling. You wanted to know. You wished you could just ask.
The door opened and closed behind you and you turned to find Jihyo walking in, her own cheeks red from the seltzers she’d been sipping on, the summer heat she’s been basking in all day. She smiled at you, eyebrows popping up in surprise and confusion, “Girl, what are you doing in here? You’ve been acting weird all day.”
Your lips pulled to one side, you wondered if Jihyo had any experience in this area, if she and Jongho ever explored in the way you’re curious about. If anyone in your group has done some experimental shit, it’s Jihyo. “Can I ask you a question?”
Her face turned serious, quickly walking closer to where you stood, gathering her dark hair behind her head to pull up into a bun. “Of course, is everything okay?”
“Yes, yes,” you said, shaking your head, loosing a quick, heavy breath. “Is Jongho ever… Rough with you?”
Jihyo paused in the middle of tying her hair, cocking her head to the side. “What do you mean ‘rough’?”
You scrunch your lips, trying to reword the question properly in your mind. “Have you ever experienced… Like, a dominant guy? That kind of role, in a relationship?”
Jihyo’s lips curved upward, a devious smile on her cheeks, eyebrows wiggling. “You thinking about spicing things up with Mingi?”
Your cheeks warmed, you looked down at the hardwood floor in embarrassment, then back up to her. “Possibly. I’m just curious, I guess.”
“Then yes, Jongho can be rough sometimes, but only when I purposely pissed him off or made him jealous or something. The relationship I was in before I started dating Jongho, though…”
Your entire face lit up, she giggled as she noticed.
“He was a very strict man, but not in a gross way, more so in a… Domineering way, I guess, everything I consented to. He thought it was sexy to control unsexy aspects of my life, what I wore, how I acted, what I did, who I talked to. In bed, he was a fucking freak.”
Your eyes filled with stars, you asked, “In a good way?”
“Oh, absolutely. He’d tie my hands behind my back, attach a spreader bar between my knees, or put a vibrator on me and leave the room until he was satisfied with how long I’d been in there by myself. Then he’d come back in and fuck me like I hadn’t already came a gazillion times.”
You released a shaky breath, toes digging into the soles of your sandals. It sounded so… appetizing.
“He was fun, that whole relationship was fun,” she smiled brightly, you almost felt bad about making her reminisce on something she loved so much, but clearly didn’t have anymore.
You couldn’t stop yourself, asking, “Why’d you break up?”
“He cheated on me,” she rolled her eyes, “Ruined a good thing. Fuck him.”
“Fuck him,” you nodded your agreement, cheeks warm, your whole body warm… You imagined Mingi tying your hands behind your back, attaching something between your legs to keep you from closing them, fully in control of your body and your pleasure. The thought was so hot, you could see it in your mind, you licked your lips as if it was happening now.
“I gotta pee, I’ll be right back,” Jihyo’s eyes flew back to the hallway, in the direction of the bathroom. Just as you started to warn her about Yunho’s date being in there, she bounced back out, apologies on her lips about being in there for so long. She was barely in there for five minutes.
You followed her back into the backyard, not stopping by the table again, but sitting yourself back in your cushioned chair, legs crossed, slowly sipping your margarita. You didn’t want to see her fall back to Yunho’s side like a lost puppy dog.
God, you needed to get a grip. The girl didn’t do anything to you. Jihyo’s story filled your head again, but instead of imagining Jihyo and the mystery man, it was you and Mingi, a vibrator strapped to you while he sat back, watching, analyzing, telling you no when you begged him to cum.
When Jongin pulled you back into the conversation you were barely paying attention to again, your body physically shook off the thoughts, a chill cooling off your very blood.
You really needed to get it together.
“I have something I need to tell you.”
Almost a full week after Wooyoung’s going away party, another movie night with Yunho under your belt, you couldn’t let these feelings fester for any longer, you were losing your fucking mind. Night after night, your boyfriend has rocked into you, sweet words on his tongue, soft caresses to your face. As much as you enjoyed it, you felt guilty for your feelings, for wanting more, something different. Admitting it was a start.
Day after day you’ve done little things, almost unnoticeable things trying to get his attention, trying to spark an ounce of jealousy. You made a comment about how good San looked at Wooyoung’s party, how he looked like he’d been hitting the gym– Mingi had given you puppy eyes, asking, “Should I start going to the gym more?”
You felt so guilty you dropped to your knees then and there, feeding praises into his ears, worshipping his body, vowing to yourself to never make him ask you a question like that ever again, to never make him feel self conscious or worth any less. The whole encounter left you feeling icky.
But maybe another route would work.
Just yesterday you asked him, What would you do if someone hit on me at the bar?
He furrowed his brows and said, Tell them not to do that, I guess?
You were getting nowhere like this, and it was frustrating. Granted, you probably should have just opened up and told him your feelings the moment these thoughts started crossing your mind.
Mingi turned over in your bed to face you, eyes sparkling, staring at you like you were his whole world. You needed to bring this up delicately, propose it in a way that wouldn’t leave him feeling like he wasn’t doing enough, that he wasn’t enough. You didn’t want to pressure him into anything, either. Asking him to slap you around was strangely feeling meticulous, you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed in focus and fear.
“Is everything okay?” He asked, eyes glossed over with worry, he shuffled a bit closer to you in your shared bed, needing your warmth to soothe his own nerves.
“Yes, baby, everything’s fine,” you smiled weakly, your arm stretching across the sheets to lay your palm over his cheek. “I’m just nervous to say what I need to, or ask my question, I guess. I don’t want you to feel like I’m unhappy, or that you aren’t doing enough, but… I’ve been thinking.”
He mirrored your smile, teasing, “You know what I say about you and thinking.”
A huff of a laugh left your lips, smile growing stronger, “I’m serious, Min.”
“Okay, I’m sorry,” his smile grew too, genuine and light, he’s always been good at diffusing situations, easing your stress. “Hit me.”
“Funny choice of words, actually,” you start, and the crease between his brows shows itself. “Do you ever think about… Being a little rough with me?”
He lifts his head up off the pillow ever so slightly, surprise flashing in his big brown eyes, “Like, when I’m fucking you?”
“Yeah,” you watched his face morph into confusion, “Throwing me around, saying mean stuff, choking me a little, maybe even slapping me–”
“Slapping you?!”
“I don’t know!” You shuffle in your bed, sitting up straight, tucking the baby pink comforter in your lap, hands mindlessly playing with the fabric. Staring down at him, voice coated in shame, you asked, “Do you?”
He blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he says, “I don’t think I have ever, once in my life, thought about hurting you.”
“Does it freak you out if I say it’s something I might be curious about?” You lay a hand behind your back, using your arm to support your weight. Mingi shifts too, sitting up beside you, still staring at you like you’re a math equation he can’t calculate.
“It doesn’t freak me out, I–” He shakes his head once, as if he’s trying to figure out his own feelings, what to say. “When did you start thinking about… this?”
“The night we watched that Captain America movie with Yunho,” you answer honestly, staring into his eyes, trying to get a read on him. He looks down at his lap, thinking, counting, before he looks back at you.
“Dude, that was like two weeks ago,” he says, horror in his voice, “You’ve been sitting on this for that long?”
“It’s not a big deal if it’s something you aren’t interested in,” you wave a hand in front of you, trying to fake nonchalance, but there was no way to prove to Mingi this isn’t important to you if it took you this long to say something. He knows you far too well.
He glances up at your ceiling, moving his lips, scrunching them to either side of his mouth, thinking. He finally looks at you, a gleam in his eye that you couldn’t place, “You really want me to be mean?”
“I–” Now it was your turn to look like a fish out of water, and then you realized this was the time to admit it, to tell him what you want. With defeat heavy in your voice, you said, “Yes, I do.”
“Okay,” he breathed, nodding slowly, “I can try.”
“Really?” you raised your brows, staring at him in surprise as if you expected him to say no. But this was Mingi after all, always eager to please, the man who would walk through fire for you.
“You’ll have to, like… Tell me what you want in more detail, what to do, I mean.”
Your entire face lit up, eyes wide, grin bright, you jumped over the mattress to swing your arms around his neck and your thighs around his hips. You kissed his entire face, perched in his lap, mumbling thank you thank you thank you and he giggled beneath your assault, wrapping his arms around your back, holding you close.
“Do you wanna do this, like… Now?” He asked when you stopped peppering smooches to the tip of his nose, his voice not quite uneasy, nervously curious.
“We could,” you shrug, arms still hung over his bare shoulders, “We haven’t fucked since last night.”
“God forbid a day goes by where we don’t have sex,” he teases, his hands sliding down to your ass, squeezing lightly.
You gasp, dropping your hips to drag against his barely clothed crotch, smirking when you feel him half-hard beneath you. “There should never be a day that goes by where we don’t have sex.”
“As long as you’re still you, there won’t be,” he says, still teasing as he presses his lips to yours, soft and sweet, normal. You sink into him, letting your hips drag over him in a slow but intentional rhythm, allowing your mind to ease, releasing soft gasps as his hands slide up your body, under your shirt.
No, you didn’t need to do this right now. You didn’t want to. You wanted him, close to you, feeling his warmth and his weight anchoring you, to set the thoughts you’d finally gotten off your chest free. You told him, you’d talk about it, you’d plan, you’d do it. He said yes. God, you love him. You let your hands slide up his biceps, fingers dancing over the sides of his neck, cupping his cheeks to hold your world in your hands.
“Not tonight,” you whisper into his lips, forgoing an explanation he didn’t need, “I changed my mind. Tonight, I just want you.”
He smiles, bared teeth pressing against your lips, soft and comforting, home. “Yeah? You sure?”
“We have time,” you pull him closer, chest to chest, elbows hooked over his shoulders and hips still rocking as if he’d feel the truth laid bare, in your skin, in your breath, in your bones. He didn’t need to change, you didn’t want him to change, if things stayed like this you’d still spend forever by his side. “We have forever.”
He kissed you again, only breaking it to tug your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere behind you, hands gliding up your skin with precision, feeling every dip and curve of your body. As if to burn it to memory, as if he didn’t know it already, as if he hasn’t worshiped every inch of your skin before. “I love you,” he murmured into your mouth, bodies still too close to be considered separate.
“I love you,” you whispered, barely breaking the kiss, eyes closed and heart aching with how much love for him it contained.
Another Friday, another movie night, another story told by Jeong Yunho.
Except this time, you and Mingi were more versed in his area of expertise, your listening was active, asking questions, looking deeper. Where you once sat nodding, periodically saying mhm and no way, you were now asking him to explain, asking why. And because Yunho is Yunho, he answered every question with honesty, even over-explaining when your brow quirked too high for his liking. When he read the question on your tongue.
For the past several days, you and Mingi have been doing research. Articles from legitimate blogs on the internet, books from the library, romance novels pulled from your bookshelf, Mingi had said, “If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.”
You hadn’t quite explored yet together– meaning he hasn’t necessarily slapped you around just yet. He’s taken it slow, tugged on your roots during a blowjob, extended your orgasm by ripping his fingers away at the last second, he even called you a slut once. Just once, though. And he apologized after.
You didn’t think you could possibly be any more in love with him, but seeing him learn for you, express genuine interest in something you asked for, you couldn’t wait for the wedding Sana was running her mouth about. But that could wait. For now, you were still exploring, experimenting, basking in the relief of getting this off your chest and doing something about it. You never want to withhold information from your boyfriend again, and Mingi might go into cardiac arrest if he finds out you’ve been sitting on your feelings ever again.
Mingi’s been honest with you. He’s told you his doubts, his fears, that he’s petrified of doing something wrong, not knowing his own strength and hurting you, saying something vile that he can’t take back. You’ve taken them all in, easing his worries by offering him solutions, reminding him why you’re taking it slow. To set boundaries, to plan, to play, to find out if this is something he’d even enjoy. If either of you would enjoy it.
Because in theory it sounds wonderful, a wet dream coming from the pits of your ovulation, but to put it into practice… What if either of you hate it? What if your sex life is forever tainted because you’re trying to fix something that isn’t broken?
Clearly, you’re both overthinkers. But luckily, you’re both good at soothing each other, and Mingi has reminded you the two times that you’ve brought this up that nothing could destroy your sex life, the two of you were made for each other. There wasn’t much room for stress after that.
Yunho came over with a smile on his face this week, a telltale sign that things were going well with his newest partner. Walking inside empty-handed and talkative, he cracked a can of beer from your refrigerator, starting his story from the beginning as his long legs brought him to your living room. He was playing with her at Wooyoung’s going away party, a detail he left out when he was over last week, when he was too engrossed in the freshness of dating her to get down to the nitty gritty.
This week he was exploding with things to tell you both, his mouth running a mile a minute, sharing things you nor Mingi asked him to, but didn’t mind hearing. Especially not now.
“The rules I made with her are different than the ones I’ve made with others,” splayed across the couch he always sat on, Yunho’s Spot you and Mingi call it, a leg hung over the armrest with the other stretched in front of him, he sat lazily, relaxed. Yours and Mingi’s apartment was always a comfort to him.
“Like how?” You had your head laying on the godforsaken armrest, pillow beneath your head actually providing solace for once, your legs stretched over Mingi’s lap at the other end of the couch. He studied Yunho as he listened, hands on your bare legs, eyebrows bent only enough to imply focus. You knew it was more than just listening to his words, he was memorizing them, saving them for later. The sight made a soft smile live on your cheeks.
Yunho sucks a breath through his teeth, brows rising as his head tips back in thought, silver hair a contrast to the deep charcoal of the cushion behind him. “She can only wear dresses around me, when we’re in public she has to ask permission to leave my side, she can’t drink unless I allow it, hmm… Oh, I banned bras. And panties.”
You crane your head to see him over the armrest, mouth gaping and teeth poking out in a smile, a giggle leaving your lips. You fought the urge to say I knew it, instead reiterating, “Bras and panties?!”
“What’s the point of it, though?” Mingi asked, and Yunho directed his gaze to his best friend, his eyes smiling just as brightly as his lips. Mingi glances between you and Yunho, “All the rules, they just seem… Inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient for who?” Yunho raises his eyebrows, “Would it be inconvenient for you if your girlfriend walked around without a bra, without panties, in a dress?”
“Not inconvenient for me, inconvenient for her,” Mingi should have just added duh at the end of his sentence. Yunho knew what he meant, but Mingi couldn’t read between the lines of his answer. Your tongue poked your cheek as your eyes danced between the two men.
“Then you know the point of it already,” Yunho’s grin was sly, his head tilting ever so slightly, as if he knew why Mingi was questioning him. He never has before.
Mingi’s lips fell into an O shape, you watched him put the pieces together in real time, another laugh leaving your lips. Mingi glanced at you for a second before his eyebrows knitted again, turning his head to look back at Yunho, “Why couldn’t she drink?”
“Because it’d make her have to pee, and she has a piss kink,” you knew he was answering honestly by the look on his face, the ease of the words leaving his mouth. “It denied her of having the fun of toying with me and saved me the punishment of fucking her in Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s bathroom.”
Your jaw dropped as your head whipped around the armrest, gaping at Yunho, “You’d really do that?”
“If she disobeyed me?” He raised his brows, “In a heartbeat.”
“In their bathroom?” Mingi’s eyes were as wide as yours, the corner of his upper lip bent upward in disbelief.
“I would have done it in front of all of you if I had the consent of everyone in the room.” He said it so casually, too casually, as if this was normal, common. It could be these days, for all you know.
Yours and Mingi’s eyes meet as surprise and intrigue cross his features, as if he was picturing himself doing it. As if he was curating a list of rules for you, too. You assumed you wouldn’t have to wash as many pairs of panties from now on.
Mingi’s eyes trailed back to Yunho, you watched him swallow, the gulp of spit passing down his throat. “And when you say punishment…”
Yunho smiles, daring and wicked, his eyes flaring with amusement. He sits up straighter, white tee pressed against the back of the couch, ankle crossed over his knee, he wouldn’t let your rare curiosity go to waste.
You change spots, too, laying your head on Mingi’s lap instead of your legs, propping them up on the criminally uncomfortable armrest. You made a mental note to start looking for a new couch. Mingi lays a hand in your hair, not moving, just resting, as if he needed to touch you to feel grounded.
“The humiliation,” Yunho released a dragged out breath, as if he loved the word, loved its meaning, the action. “I would have put her over my knee, made her tell everyone watching what she did, why it was wrong.”
Mingi blinked, his lips parted, as if he couldn’t fathom why in the world Yunho would do that. “You’d let everyone see that? See her?”
Yunho shrugs, “If everyone was into it.”
“She obeyed you though, right?” You ask, and he raises his eyebrows in your direction, acknowledging you, “Does she get, like… Rewarded for that?”
Yunho smiled, a proud look sitting on his face, a soft nod of his head. “Of course she does, well, she did.”
You raised a brow, imploring him, and his smile grew as if he could read every thought in your mind. “You two are curious tonight.”
You can feel the embarrassment in your cheeks, and as you look up to Mingi, you see a faint blush spread over his nose. If you could see his ears from where you laid, you’d bet they tipped red, too. Neither of you are being shy with your curiosity, and it was clear.
Yunho didn’t wait for either of you to answer, “I’ll bite. We didn’t even get back to my place, to be honest. She got to finish twice in the car, another three times when we got back for good behavior.”
A huh? ripped from your chest, a disbelieving sound, just as Mingi screeched, “Five?!”
You thought back to when she went to the bathroom at the party, how she tugged on Yunho’s wrist before she went inside, how he nodded toward her in allowance. You wonder if you’d be willing to let it be taken so far, or if you truly just wanted to be slapped around. You supposed you would if five orgasms were waiting for you afterward.
“They weren’t easy, don’t say it like that,” Yunho waved a hand, long fingers bending the air around him, “I was forcing them out of her by the end of it. She likes overstimulation.”
You peeked up at Mingi again, whose lips you think were going to stay permanently parted for the duration of the conversation, with his thick, deep eyebrows touching his hairline. He was shocked— so were you, even if neither of you should be, you’re no strangers to multiple orgasms in a session. But five, for good behavior, a reward like that, it almost made you hand your boyfriend a notepad and a pen and say Yes, I want that.
Yunho’s laugh sends a shiver down your spine, your body involuntarily jerking at the noise, head shifting in your boyfriend’s lap. It sounded borderline condescending, which you weren’t sure if you were making up, or if it was on purpose. Your eyes widened as you felt it, the fucking boner Mingi was sporting beneath your head. He knew you felt it, you could see it all over his face, the blush you thought was from the nature of the conversation, no, he was horny, and Yunho didn’t seem like he was anywhere near done with the conversation.
Realization hits that Mingi must be thinking about doing that to you, and he’s hard. You might have started jumping for joy if you didn’t have to explain to both men why.
“You guys look like you’ve never heard anything like this in your life,” Yunho’s laugh is still showing on his cheeks, the way his head is tilted, his eyebrows slightly raised, smugness oozing off of him. “I’ve told you stories before.”
“Yeah, but…” You cut yourself off, swallowing down the answer you were about to give. He didn’t need to know you were experimenting, or attempting to. No one needed to know. “It’s just crazy.”
“Yeah, you’re crazy,” Mingi adds from above you, the both of you nodding your agreement, hiding why you’re both so god damn affected. His clothed cock pressing against your head, having to pretend like it isn’t there, Yunho so easily talking about how he punishes and rewards his partners, how arrogance seemed to be possessing him, it was all too much.
Yunho raises his brows, his smile still present on closed lips, as if the two of you were transparent. Completely see through, thoughts and feelings laid bare for him to see. If you could peer into Yunho’s mind you might see that he’s enjoying this, that he knows exactly what he's doing, toying with the two of you might be the most fun he’s had in months.
He can see how pathetic the two of you are, you’re wearing it. Too many ideas are brewing in his mind, ones he’s positive he can never verbalize, but if the two of you kept looking at him like that…
“I’ve told you worse, remember when that one girl thought it’d be funny to flirt with that random guy, when we all went out to the club? It was back in February I think,” Yunho’s glancing between you both now, like he doesn’t want to miss a single reaction painted on your faces. “I tied her up and left her alone in the bedroom, in the dark, for an hour?”
You gulped. You remembered this story. Mingi was only growing beneath you, he remembered this story, too.
“She was a crying fucking mess by the time I went back in, so wet, didn’t take any prep at all for me to fuck her. She didn’t cum once that night. Never did that shit again, though.”
Your breath hitched in your throat. You think of a few weeks ago, when Yunho was once again across from the two of you, when you put space between yourself and Mingi, a part of you hoping he’d fuck the brat out of you. You couldn’t even imagine Mingi tying you up and leaving you alone, he’d probably be crying before you would, or he wouldn’t even leave the room. But the thought of it… If he could… You crossed an ankle over the other, trying to create some kind of pressure between your thighs, friction to alleviate your core that was beginning to throb.
Mingi’s grip tightened ever so slightly in your hair and you knew he was showing you the restraint he was quickly losing, that he needed you. Your eyelids fluttered at the feeling.
“How did you get into this? This, uh, lifestyle,” Mingi’s voice was shallow, his mouth drying, he was feeling it just as much as you were. You don’t even know if you heard his question let alone the answer, not when you could feel his cock under you, begging to be touched, probably leaking, the tip red and aching…
Mingi pressed a finger to your cheek and your lips fucking parted. He was only trying to get your attention. “You okay?” Mingi asked, need flashing in his eyes, an unspoken question, a statement. Oh, Yunho has done it now.
I need you.
You blinked. Now?
A small nod. Now. Get him out.
“Not feeling too good, honestly,” you pouted, letting a hand fall across your forehead, “Do I feel warm to you?”
Mingi’s lips scrunched trying to hide his smile, you were the better liar out of the two of you. His palm hit your forehead, “Hm, you do feel warm.”
“Let me feel,” Yunho crossed the living room in a quick stride, his hand falling to your forehead fast, before you or Mingi could think up a silly excuse. His hand damn near laid from ear to ear, sending a spark of something through your entire body. “Damn, you are warm.”
He needed to get out, now. You give him a weak smile, “Must be coming down with something, I’m sorry to cut the movie night short.”
He shakes his head, then clasps Mingi’s hand, and goes to grab his keys off the coffee table, “Don’t worry about it, there’s always next week, Iron Man can wait. Feel better.”
“Thanks, Yun,” you call after him, tucking your smile away until you hear the front door close—
Mingi pounces. Strong arms tugging you onto his lap, assaulting your lips with his own, rough palms slipping under your shirt, thumbs hooking into your waistband. There was no time to waste.
“Fuck,” he cursed into your mouth as you rolled your hips against him, shorts dragging against his sweatpants, and you smiled at his sensitivity. “Fuck, I need you.”
“Yeah?” You rolled your hips again, harder this time, “That bad?”
His fingers tighten on your hips, digging into your skin, his jaw going slack, mouth unresponsive against yours. You let your hands feel up his chest, his shoulders, his neck, lips ghosting his jawline as he guides your hips against his.
His head tilts back as your lips attack a sensitive part of his neck, right below his ear. His voice comes out deep but breathy as he says, “Wanna make you cum five times, too.”
Excitement shoots up your spine. You sit back, hands resting on his shoulders, a grin on your cheeks, “Do it, then.”
He scoops you off his lap and falls to his knees, a muted thump was heard as cotton covered skin hit the hardwood of your floor, he laid you on your back as if you were fragile, made of glass. Your legs parted after he slipped your shorts off anyway.
You kept your hands in his hair as his tongue worked you open, your first orgasm coming quickly, easily, praises falling off your lips, skull digging into the floor beneath you. Mingi didn’t stop, though, not as his black locks ran taut between your fingers as you pulled in an attempt to get him away, when the pleasure became too much.
It was on purpose, the pleasure was fucking blinding, pleasure and pain, the sting of your orgasm that never fully finished turning into another, a pit in your stomach that ached with every swipe of his tongue. Your hips bucked, trying to chase him away, attempting to overpower strong arms holding you down by the bone.
“Mingi— holy shit,” you cried, eyes wide and staring down at him where he was doing anything but looking up at you. Focused, tongue moving in perfect circles, flicking at your clit with enough precision to tell you he wasn’t letting up. Your movements seized, joints locking up, breath getting caught in your throat as he pulled you under, forcing another orgasm to wash over you.
He ate you through it again before you were keeling, abdomen clenching, body jerking enough to where it was annoying for him to keep holding you down. His lips let go with a pop, sucking in a deep gust of air as your bones went fluid, body sinking into the hardwood floor.
Mingi smacked his teeth with plump, swollen lips. He lifted himself up by his arms, saying with a steady voice, “Turn over.”
You opened your eyes again, staring at hunger incarnate, “On my knees?”
He lifted himself farther, sitting on his calves, wrapping his fingers loosely around your ankles where they sat planted on the floor. Again, he said, “Turn over.”
You blinked, “I can’t if you’re holding my ankles like that.”
In a quick motion, he pulled you toward him, forearm scooping under your back, and your palms were pressed to the hardwood floor in a second’s time, knees stinging as the deep swirls of oak stared back at you. You hissed, “Fuck, that hurt.”
Hands that were already sliding up the backs of your thighs paused, “You okay?”
You smiled, thinking of all the limits you’ve discussed in the past weeks, your safe word, what to do in case you couldn’t say it. “I know what to say if I’m not.”
“Good.”
Your elbows hit the floor as his fingers slipped inside, his other hand holding onto your ass, squeezing your skin. “O-Oh my God, Min,” you cried, letting your forehead drop to your open palms, your back arched up into him as his fingers hooked into you, hitting that spongy spot inside, your toes curling, shins lifting off the floor.
It was overwhelming. Yunho had left barely ten minutes ago and you’d already came twice, Mingi working you up to a third without any reprieve. You could hear the smile on his face as he asked, “You gonna cum again? Gonna be good for me?”
You wailed as his fingers assaulted the spot, slipping in and out of you, curling, massaging, your body jerking at every movement he made. He sucked in a breath before he pulled his hand off your ass, letting it fall back down with a heavy smack, “Answer me.”
Your moan was treacherous, loud, somewhere between a score of pleasure and a cry of pain as you came again. Weaker this time but still as blinding as the first, you shook, he hit you. Not as hard and not as confident as he could be, it was still pain mixing with the pleasure, a cocktail of endurance and emotion, a step forward.
“Baby,” you could barely hear as both hands soothed your ass cheeks, rubbing circles into the skin. “Answer me, my love, need you to say something.”
You weren’t sure if your consciousness was still inside your skin, or if you were floating somewhere beyond.
His hands hooked into the crevice where your hips met your thighs, pulling you backward into his lap, moving and dropping you as if you were light as a feather. He was moving too fast, your brain could barely keep up, overwhelmed and overstimulated. You sunk into him, the smell of him pulling you back down to earth, the heat of his cheek pressed against your head warming you. “I’m okay,” your voice came out weak, lagged, tired. Your knees burned, but the fire he had lit inside your belly blazed.
“You swear?” He took your chin in his hand with care, forcing you to look up at him, concern bubbling wildly in his eyes.
You nodded, “I swear. You can keep going.”
He kept you in his lap, his hands moving slower now, uneasy. Fear bled into you with every touch, under your tee, as he unclipped your bra, even fumbling with the clasp. You could taste his nerves.
But his cock still stayed hard beneath you, pressed up against your back. After he tugged off your shirt and bra you faced him, bare legs wrapping around his hips, your boyfriend fully clothed where you sat naked, but not uncomfortable at the difference. You let your lips crash into his again, picking up speed, trying to show him your hunger when his had gotten foggy, masked with fear and concern.
He let you lead him, tongue dancing with yours, his hands sliding over your skin with more confidence now, more pressure. You smiled into him, “You still owe me two more.”
He matched your smile, “And here I thought we were past your insatiability.”
You let your bare center drag over his clothed length, gasping when it brushed against your clit just right. “I want you inside me.”
“I’m supposed to be telling you what to do,” his hands fell to your hips, grinding you against him harder, grinning when your head fell to his shoulder.
“Then tell me how you want me to ride you,” you mumbled into covered skin, your hands sneaking beneath the hem of his tee, fingers tracing his toned abdomen.
“Why do you get all the power?” He placed his hands under your ass, lifting you to shift onto his knees, you yelped when he stood up, easily holding you steady through the movement. A show of strength, a display of dominance, one that sent all the blood on your body straight to your still pulsing clit.
You clung to him on the walk to the bedroom, your arms hooked around his neck, adrenaline thrumming beneath your skin. All the daydreams you’ve had and research you’ve done was paying off now. This was better than anything you could’ve imagined.
He threw you onto the bed before he tugged his shirt over his head by the collar, pulling his sweats down just enough for his cock to spring out. Standing before you in all his glory, Mingi’s cheeks were pink, eyes glossed over and hazy, hair shooting out in four different directions atop his head thanks to your incessant pulling. God, he was fucking beautiful, you sat up on your knees and crawled towards him, wanting to taste—
He stepped back so you couldn’t reach, his right hand wrapping around the base of his cock, squeezing when it was already red and leaking, just as you imagined. You pouted. He raised his eyebrows. “You want my cock, don’t you?”
You met his eyes to find arrogance, something you’ve only seen on your boyfriend a handful of times. You swallowed down the thrill, nodding your head, “Yes, I want it.”
He pumped the length of his cock, a groan sneaking out of his lips, his head falling to the side, eyes fluttering shut. You gasped at the view, your eyes trying to catch the full length of him, not knowing where to look, not wanting to miss anything. Slowly, he built up a rhythm, and you whimpered from your spot on the baby pink comforter.
“Please, let me,” your eyes stayed glued to the way his hand dragged down the length of his cock, how his tip leaked beads of precum, lubing up his hand. He ignored you. “Mingi, please. I need it.”
He groaned instead, his hand pumping faster, until he finally opened his eyes. In a low, lazy voice, he moaned, “Fuck, feels so fuckin’ good.”
Your mouth hung open at the sight, he really wasn’t going to let you touch him. Was it because you told him to fuck you? He really thought you were taking the power from him?
“Please, Mingi,” you were whining now, fists balling at the comforter beneath you, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip jutted outward.
He tsked. “Get down here. On your knees.”
You’ve never moved faster in your life. Sitting on your calves before him, knees burning again, hands in your lap, staring up at him with every hope in the world, you waited for instruction. He wasn’t fucking around.
He pumped his cock faster, palm circling the tip, squeezing his hand as stuttered moans poured from his lips. He wasn’t even looking at you, eyes focused on his cock, “Open your mouth.”
With your tongue out you sat up on your knees, eyes glued to his cock, waiting for his cum. Your cunt throbbed between your thighs, three orgasms weren’t enough, you needed more, you needed him, his cock filling you up, to cum around it. His moans grew in pitch as his wrist jerked faster, stuttering, his hips bucking forward into his hand, his eyebrows knitted together. It took everything you had not to slip a hand between your legs. At least you were a quick learner.
He came with a loud groan, ropes of white hitting your tongue, your nose, your cheeks, your eyebrows. You moaned with him as you felt the warmth on your skin, swallowing him down, licking your lips to catch what you could.
“Good girl,” his voice had dropped another octave, as if he was getting comfortable in his rank now, dominance surrounding him like an aura. You smiled up at him, stars in your eyes as he took his thumb to your face, scooping his cum off of your cheeks, nose, eyebrows, then promptly shoved it past your lips.
You gagged at the sudden intrusion, but swallowed him down anyway, lips wrapping around his thumb to suck it clean, tongue sliding against the underside. He patted your head with his other hand, a small smile sitting pretty on his cheeks, “So good for me, baby. Kiss me.”
You stood up on wobbly legs and kissed him, he could probably taste the gratitude on your tongue, how much you fucking loved this, loved him. He moved to sit back on the edge of the bed, never breaking the kiss, hands on your waist, tongue licking into your mouth to taste the leftover remnants of his release. Your knees planted into the mattress as you climbed on top of him again, a hand between your bodies, slipping his cock between your folds, spreading the wetness where it gathered.
“Holy shit,” he gasped out, breaking away from your lips to glance down between you, “You’re so fucking wet.”
“That was so fucking hot,” you said in the same tone he used as he looked back up to meet your eyes, “You’ve never done anything like that before. I’m dying.”
He huffs a laugh into your lips, “Dying is dramatic.”
You kissed him again, “And I meant it.”
You dragged your core along his shaft, sliding over his length, and he hisses into your mouth in overstimulation. You smile, “Now you know how it feels.”
“Sit on it,” he grabs his cock with one hand, your hip in the other, completely ignoring your remark, “Now.”
You cursed under your breath at the tone of his voice, at the desperation and order mixing together, how badly he wanted you, needed to feel you, yet overstimulating himself to do it. His cock was already hard again in his hand as you lined yourself up on top of him, hands bracing yourself on his shoulders as you started to sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch with ease.
The sound was deafening, how pathetic the two of you sounded, the whine-coated moans cracking from your gut. Your nails clawed into his shoulders, eyes screwed shut at the stretch, at how easily he slipped inside. His voice was strained, “Too fucking tight, gotta open up for me, relax.”
You were too excited, your joints locked up from adrenaline and anticipation. You took a deep breath, letting your body relax, unlocking your limbs, forehead falling forward to rest against his. His hands come up to your waist, rubbing circles into your back, “There you go, my love, you feel so fucking good.”
You whimpered at the praise, hips bucking forward involuntarily, “Can I move?”
“Go ahead, baby,” he said, letting go of your waist, leaning back against the mattress on his elbows, “Show me how badly you wanted to ride my cock.”
Your jaw went slack at the words, hips immediately picking up and dropping back down on him, your hands sliding up your stomach to pinch at your nipples. You bounced on him slowly at first, watching his face contort in pleasure, letting the sound of him guide you, encourage you. Eyebrows slanted and lips parted he moaned and moaned, hips jerking into you every few thrusts, silently telling you to pick up the pace.
“Mingi,” you breathed, a hand on his abdomen, using it to balance your pace, “Choke me?”
His eyes widened, “I— I don’t—”
You reached an arm forward, this was one of his unsure areas, where he was scared of his own strength, of hurting you seriously. You wrapped a hand around his throat, fingers pressing into the sides, “Like this.”
The moan he released stopped you completely. It happened in slow motion, the squeeze of your fingers, how his lips parted, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, how you pulsed around his cock at the sight, at the sound.
Now it was your turn to widen your eyes in surprise, “Oh.”
He brought his hand up to wrap around yours, his hips fucking up into you harshly, overwhelming your nervous system, shattering your god damn mind. Oh, he really liked that. You couldn’t fight the smile breaking across your cheeks, your words coming out jagged through his thrusts, “You liked that?”
He whimpered, broken through the pressure of your fingertips, and a small, shy nod of his head. You just wanted to show him how. Encourage him to do it himself. This opened another door completely.
You released him after a moment and he took a deep breath, eyes wild, gasping out, “Holy shit.”
You nodded with a wicked smile, your hips picking up the pace, “You really liked it?”
“Do it again,” he whispered, pushing himself up by his forearms, pressing his chest against yours as you changed your speed, rocking against him, a dirty grind against his cock as your fingertips danced over his throat.
You leaned in, whispering, “Kiss me,” against his lips, and he did, his mouth following your lead, up until you tightened your grip around his throat and pressed into the sides with light pressure.
“Fuck,” he whimpered against your lips, the sound broken and raw, and his jaw went slack again, his eyelids fluttering, his cock throbbing inside you. You could have fun with this.
You dropped your hips against him harshly, making him jolt into you, not a thought behind his fucking eyes as they widened, “So desperate, I told you to kiss me, didn’t I?”
“I can’t,” he cried, eyes closed, chin tipped back, “Feels so fucking good. Harder, please.”
You laughed in disbelief as you picked up your pace, the begging felt good, great even, your body consumed by another pleasure entirely. This was incredible. Maybe you could understand why Yunho does what he does, the sheer pleasure he must feel from breaking his partners down, having them at their wits end beneath him.
Having Mingi like this was unexpected but so fucking hot, even under a spell his cock was still hitting that perfect spot inside you, making you moan in tandem with him, a song of pleasure and worship filling the room, masking the noise of skin slapping against skin.
You let him go to brace your hands on his shoulders and his head fell against your chest, lazily kissing at your skin, his hands coming behind you to graze his fingernails down your back, making you hiss out at the sting. “Shit, Min.”
He whimpered again, making your hips stutter as you tried to ride him harder, faster, clenching around his length, and his fingers clawed at you deeper. Your back arched, “Yes, feels so good inside me, you’re so fucking perfect.”
“Need you to cum,” he said against your chest, a mumble of words, barely comprehensible. He glances up at you through his lashes, eyes sparkling and vulnerable, “Need to feel you cum, need it. Wanna fill you up.”
Your face twisted in pleasure, at the look on his fucking face, “Oh— Oh my God.”
You clenched again and he whined, “Fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum.”
“Wait,” you barked out, rushing a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, “Hold it.”
His head tipped back, his features scrunching together, hands slipping down to your hips to squeeze, to guide you into fucking him harder. Deeper.
You gasped out a cry as you drew quick circles on your clit, still bouncing on him with the same rhythm, “F-Fuck, I’m so close, fuck, Min.”
“Yes,” he encouraged, “Cum for me, wanna feel it. Wanna feel you cum around me, please baby, give it to me.”
Your hips stuttered as you felt your high hit its peak, Mingi whining at the loss of rhythm, leaning back on his elbows to fuck up into you, his legs pushing against the bed frame surrounding your mattress. Your orgasm crashed over you, sending you forward, body folding in on itself as your vision went white, ears ringing as your body collided into his.
Mingi cried out, hips bucking and jerking into you to get himself off until he filled you up with his second load of the night, a sigh full of pleasure and contentment escaping him as he finished, his joints finally unlocking, laying flat against the bed.
After a moment his arms curled around you, pulling you up, laying your head on his chest from where you landed awkwardly over him. His hand went into your hair, rubbing lazy circles into your scalp, pressing his lips to the top of your head.
“Did I kill you?” He asked, voice teasing, and you grumbled a noise in response. “We can talk about it tomorrow if you want, but we still have to get you all cleaned up. Don’t fall asleep yet.”
You stuck your tongue out, licking the patch of his skin that was just beside your mouth to show him you were awake, making him shuffle in discomfort. He let out a small, disgruntled sound of surprise, “Eugh, don’t lick me.”
“Are you serious?” You picked your head up ever so slightly to see his face, which didn’t look disgusted at all.
A sweet smile sat on his cheeks, one not embarrassed, not shy, not regretful, but happy. You could have sighed in relief if you weren’t absolutely exhausted. He faked a pout, “You look so tired, and I still have one more orgasm to give you.”
He laughed when your face twisted in surprise and fear, you don’t think you even have the strength for a shower.
But because Mingi is perfect and knows you better than you know yourself, he ran the two of you a bath.
And you talked. A little.
But he definitely ripped that fifth one out of you.
You did end up talking about it the next day.
And the day after that, and the day after that, for two weeks. It seemed you and Mingi couldn’t stop talking about it, that night, his words, his assertiveness, how he jerked himself off onto your face, how your hands wrapped around his throat. It quickly snowballed into more, the two of you turning into monsters, it was as if your insatiability had grown a twin and possessed your boyfriend.
“I don’t know what happened,” at your favorite coffee shop in town the next day, the two of you sat cozied up in a booth, laptops out, but the last thing you were doing was working. “Something inside me, like, opened I guess. You put your hand around my neck and I thought I was gonna cum on the spot.”
With your cheek in your palm, you swirled your straw in your coffee cup, the doc you had open on your laptop screen long forgotten. “You really never thought you’d be into anything like that?”
Mingi shrugged, bringing his attention back to his screen, he drew mindless circles on his keypad with his finger. With his eyes on his laptop, big navy frames sitting on his nose, he admitted, “I don’t know, I never really thought about it.”
“Funny how I was trying to show you how to choke me,” you teased, lifting your head from your hand, straightening in the booth. “And here we found out something new about you.”
He rolled his eyes, a shy smile growing on his cheeks, still not looking at you, “Yeah, yeah, I owe you one.”
“No, not at all,” you shake your head, “We should just see what happens. What the vibe is when we’re in it, you know?”
He meets your eyes, cheeks dusted pink, “You’re okay with it? Like… If I asked you to do that to me again, you’re okay with it?”
Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head, was he embarrassed? You leaned forward, keeping your expression serious, “Song Mingi, that was one of the hottest things I have ever seen you do. One of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, actually.”
His eyebrows raised in surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting that answer. You smiled, hoping it came off as reassuring as you needed it to, “You’re not the only person that learned something about themself last night.”
His lips curled up at the edges, lopsided smile crawling across his cheeks, “I still wanna try doing it to you.”
“Good, because so do I,” you leaned back in the booth, still smiling, and you hoped his chest felt lighter, because yours definitely did.
The next morning, he beckoned you awake by peppering kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips, but his hand sliding between your legs is what had your eyes finally opening.
You hummed in delight, sleepy mind curating nonsense to mumble as you stretched your arms over your head, spreading your knees to welcome to intrusion, the skilled fingers that knew exactly what they were doing.
Silently he worked you open, pressing kisses to your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth to really get you there— he forced the taste of an orgasm on your tongue before he ripped it away, popping his fingers into his mouth instead.
You almost cursed him out for it, eyes wide, jaw dropped and pissed, but he just smiled.
“Be good for me today and you can have the rest later.”
You wore a scowl the entire day, even if thrill was coursing through your blood, excitement for what awaited you at home. He texted you mid-day while you were hard at work at your desk, asking for a present, a sexy picture in your job’s bathroom mirror.
You swallowed down your embarrassment, ears burning as you sped to the bathroom, eyes darting all around your office to make sure no one noticed, that no one saw you. An absurd fear.
Relief washed over you when the bathroom was empty and you quickly pulled your skirt down to your thighs, your ass laying right over the hem, plump and picturesque. You took a few, sending them all to him immediately, feeling scandalous and prideful that you’d done something so sexual in your job’s bathroom, and didn’t get caught.
He sent back a picture of the print of his cock through his slacks, his hand squeezing the base, his veins popping through his pearly skin, the watch sitting on his wrist making it so much hotter. With a caption just as incriminating as the photo, you salivated, tongue swimming in saliva as your thighs squeezed together beneath your desk, lip caught between your teeth.
Your body burned as you set your phone down, barely able to concentrate on your work as you completed your day, fighting with your mind to keep focus. By the time you got home he was waiting for you, already hard, stripping the skirt off your hips before you’d fully made it through the threshold of your apartment.
Five seemed like a lucky number for you two now, how many times you’d finished on various places of his body, on his fingers, his tongue, his cock, his thigh. The fifth came to you with his palm wrapped around your throat, squeezing harder than you ever thought he would, confidence oozing off of him as he drilled into you with your back against his chest.
The next day you seemed to switch places. You tapped into that side of yourself you just met, making Mingi a mess beneath you, tears and sweat and saliva, you took it all in stride with a smile on your face, eyes blazing with a wickedness Mingi’s never seen on you before. It was experimental and fun, fumbling hands and stuttered words, Mingi submitted to you even if you weren’t fully confident in your dominance.
You’d never degraded anyone before, much less your angelic boyfriend, it was a true fight to come up with nasty things to say, but that’s where your research had come into play. If either of you had an ounce of consciousness inside of the bubble you’d created together, you could probably pick apart where each and every piece of your words, actions, where everything had come from.
You two had become obsessed, every waking moment had turned sexual, doing and talking, talking and doing, you couldn’t get enough of each other. You started to feel silly for thinking your sex life would be ruined when, if anything, it had gotten better, somehow more active, because you both had turned insatiable. Mingi couldn’t make fun of you anymore, not when he was just as fucking horny as you were.
As deep as you were in it, the learning, the experimenting, something tugged at you. Maybe it was how you couldn’t grow fully confident in the weeks you’ve played, how you fumbled your words still, or when your hands didn’t quite know where to go, what to say, when to pull away. You knew learning never truly stopped, especially with something as severe as tapping into BDSM dynamics, but you found yourself stumped more than once, and that was enough to consider researching more.
Especially the night when you and Mingi had fallen into your sheets, a mess of lips and tongues and nails, waiting for the other to take the lead. Fighting for dominance but never winning, leaving room for the other to take charge, to set the tone for how the session would go. Ten minutes of kissing and muttering filthy words in each other’s ears, you knew he was feeling it, too.
Above you, he paused, lips parted and hands planted beside your head, chest heaving with adrenaline and slight confusion. You stared at each other for a moment, reading the feelings in each other’s eyes, before a laugh erupted from Mingi’s chest and had you giggling along with him.
“Shit, are we plateauing?” He flopped down next to you on his back, amusement laced in every word, eyes never leaving you once.
You giggled more, letting your head fall to the side to look at him, tilted smile on his lips and deep, hooded eyes. “I’m not gonna lie, I was kinda hoping you were gonna toss me around tonight.”
“That’s funny, I was kinda hoping you were gonna edge me until I cried,” he responded plainly, as if the words spilling from his lips weren’t completely filthy. You both laughed before you let out verbal breaths, a sound to fill the comfortable silence, then met each other’s eyes again.
“Well?” You asked, raising your brows at him, “What the hell do we do now?”
Neither of you knew, and you didn’t have an outlet to turn to. Instead you fucked slow, back to your roots, praises and kisses and soothing touches that felt incredible but still didn’t scratch the itch. The two of you needed more, something to help when you were both feeling submissive, looking for the same type of pleasure.
It wasn’t something you needed. No, you think it might be… Someone. Another person to help. The thought left you feeling uneasy.
You and Mingi have never once talked about opening up your relationship to anyone. Not once in your years together have you discussed a threesome, it’s been years since you’ve experienced a shred of jealousy, never once an inkling of disloyalty. Yours and Mingi’s relationship was the poster for perfection, and opening the door to someone else, even if it was all purely sexual, for education purposes, felt… Weird. Strange. Unwelcome.
Even if you were to say yes, who the hell would you ask? You only know one Dom, one person with enough experience in this area to help you. You forbade the thought for days to come.
Until it happened again.
The two of you weren’t as rough this time, kisses pressed to skin and hands slipping between legs, but it was still there. Mingi was whimpering into your mouth, a sound you’ve learned came from a very specific mindset, when he needed to be taken care of, when he was feeling needy.
And you had a long fucking day.
Your boss had assigned your team with a project that wasn’t anywhere near your area of expertise, accompanied by a deadline that didn’t seem humanly possible. When you had brought it up to him, he was not nice, stern and angry with you for not ‘doing what you get paid to do’ when this particular assignment was under his job criteria. It wasn’t fair, you had stress bottled up inside you from your head to your toes, you hadn’t even had sex on your mind today let alone coming home to dominate your boyfriend.
Your skin burned with every touch Mingi gave, you so badly wanted him to flip you around, take you with no prep, laying harsh slaps against your skin with a hand wrapped around your throat, you wanted these feelings fucked out of you. If you were going to fuck, you wanted to be fucked. There was so much negativity built up inside you from the day you yearned for your mind to go blank, to fall into that corner of consciousness where you didn’t have to be. Where Mingi made decisions for you, where he decided what was best.
“What’s wrong?” With his eyebrows furrowed in concern he pulled you into his chest, hands cradling your cheeks with soft palms, as if you would break in his grasp.
Fuck. Your throat tightened, your bottom lip jutted outward, your eyes closing to try and force the tears ripping their way through your ducts down. Mingi held you closer, threading a hand through your hair, scratching his nails into your scalp to soothe you, “Baby, what happened? What’s wrong?”
You sobbed into his chest, guilt racking through you with every breath, you didn’t know what to do. So consumed with the stress of your day and now Mingi wanted you to perform for him, you couldn’t do it. You didn’t answer at first, and he didn’t pry, he laid you down with him instead, letting you cry into his chest while rubbing circles into your back, kissing your head every few minutes, holding you close.
“I’m sorry,” you finally choked out, eyes opening only to see his tear-soaked tee before you.
He moved his hands to cup your cheeks again, holding your head up to look at him, thumbs swiping under your eyes to paint your tears onto your skin. “What’s wrong, my love? Did I do something?”
You shook your head in his hold, “No, no, it’s not you. I just had a really long, fucked up day, and I can’t…” Another sob ripped from your chest, “…I can’t do this tonight.”
“Baby,” the word laced with the ache from his own chest, he continued, “You don’t need to, you never need to, we don’t have to do anything.”
You sniffed, you couldn’t imagine what you looked like right now. Mingi’s seen worse, though, he’s seen everything. You pouted, involuntarily sniffing up the last of your cries, voice still broken and uneasy, “That’s the thing. I want to, I just don’t want to think, I want you to take my mind off of it. But I think you want the same from me.”
He blinked at you, concern and thought drinking up every inch of his face, he didn’t know what to say, either. It was a crossroads. He couldn’t just say Okay, I’ll dominate you tonight— it wouldn’t feel right. You wouldn’t want him to, either, you only want it if he wants it. Just like he only wants it if you want it.
He looses a breath, running a hand through your hair again, thumb swiping under your eye with his other hand, “Why don’t I run us a bath, order some takeout, and we can sit and watch a movie? Then tomorrow when we’re clear-headed and you’re feeling better, we can talk about this. What to do when it happens.”
You nodded into his hands, bottom lip quivering, because God, you were so fucking lucky. He washed every inch of your body in the steaming hot water, massaging into your shoulders, your scalp as he washed your hair. He had you smiling and giggling by the time you got dressed, after he ordered takeout, and then the two of you talked about your day. He listened actively, he hated your boss already, now that dislike just ran deeper. You watched a comedy, both laughing and talking through the whole thing, cuddled up next to each other before you fell asleep on the couch with every limb on your bodies intertwined.
“Wait, so you’re both switches?” Yunho faces the two of you in his spot, feet planted on the floor, elbows resting on his thighs with his fingers interlocked. His eyebrows laced together in focus as he listened to your story from the beginning, ready to guide you, to give the advice you asked him for.
You and Mingi knew you weren’t going to get anywhere from websites, informational books or romance novels, this was a problem you needed to speak to someone about. A real life human with knowledge, experience, the one person you both know and trust to help you with your little problem. The decision to ask him didn’t come easy, days were spent talking it out, the pros and the cons of opening up your sex life enough to let someone peer inside. None of your friends knew a single detail about yours and Mingi’s sex life, it wasn’t information you gave away easily.
But this? This felt necessary.
You sat with your legs crossed on your couch in your comfiest clothes, and Mingi sat stretched out beside you in an outfit that nearly matched yours. Yunho had walked inside complaining about his latest conquest, a six pack in his hand, ready to drink and forget all about it, maybe pass out on your couch. He was even dressed for the date he was supposed to go on, slacks and a long linen shirt, the top three buttons unbuttoned. Clearly, coming here was a last resort, or an answer to his own problems.
Until you and Mingi bombarded him with your own.
Yunho seemed excited to dive into your sex life, though. From all the stories he’s told, he’s barely ever gotten a detail out of one of you, one sided experiences shared without ever getting a glimpse inside of what you two do when you’re alone. He set the six pack down on the second shelf of your refrigerator and sat down in his spot across your living room, urging you two to spill.
“I guess so?” You look at Mingi and then back to Yunho, “I don’t know how else I’d describe it. It depends on the night.”
Yunho smiles in disbelief, “I would have never expected that. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re the dom, and Mingi’s your sub.”
“He’d love it that way,” you joked, nudging Mingi with your elbow, the six foot man beside you who wore the gentlest smile. “All of this started because I wanted him to throw me around a bit.”
“Hm,” Yunho sits back on his couch, crossing a leg over the other, his arm stretching across the back. “That’s a lot to discover, you haven’t been doing it for long, then?”
“A month and some change, I believe,” your boyfriend nods in Yunho’s direction. “At this point I think we’re just confused. We’re extremely similar and our feelings line up more often than they don’t, it’s hard to differentiate when one of us wants to be the one in control. Or doesn’t want to be, in our case.”
“Wait, wait,” Yunho raises a hand, “Let me see if I’m getting this right. The issue at hand is that neither of you want to be in control?”
“Sometimes,” you add, “Not all the time. The issue is what to do when that happens.”
Yunho laughs, and it’s a shrill sound that slithers down your spine, ringing in your ears like a wake up call. You think you can read the words in his mind, on his tongue, the easiest solution here, and it terrifies you when he actually says it.
“Why don’t you just call up a third when it happens?”
So simple. So easy. Like you and Mingi haven’t been together for years, like your sex life was some measly thing you could invite others into, as if it meant nothing. That was dangerous territory.
But you suppose you’ve been in dangerous territory for over a month anyhow.
You glance at Mingi who seemed to be thinking the same thing as you. He’s the one who turns to Yunho and says, “I don’t know if that’s something we’d be comfortable with.”
“Including someone else… Opens doors,” you add, fingers fidgeting where they say in your lap, uneasiness oozing off of you.
“Doors that we haven’t even knocked on, let alone opened,” Mingi nods, and the comfort of his thigh pressed to your knee feels necessary.
Yunho tilts his head, “It doesn’t need to be some big thing. You guys are exploring, figuring shit out, it doesn’t hurt to have someone else to guide you. And scratch the itch.”
You pull your lip between your teeth. That wording, how casual he’s treating the sentiment… You and Mingi were planners, since the beginning of starting this adventure, you’ve talked everything out from day one. Yet as you glanced at your boyfriend, the transparency in his eyes, how he seemed to be contemplating it, too.
Something was nagging at you, saying maybe inviting someone else in is the right option. Yunho was the one with experience, he’s guided people before.
He’s guided people before.
“Do you know anyone who would?” Mingi asked as your eyes skimmed over Yunho. Broad chest, long legs, strong thighs, you’ve never really looked at him. You know he’s gorgeous, but you’re too in love with Mingi to notice when someone looks like that. This could work. Your head tilted, the pearly chest peeking out of the white linen shirt lined with a silver chain, eyes dropping to his slacks clung to every muscle in his thighs. This could definitely work.
Yunho smacked his teeth. “Are you kidding me?”
A smile played at your lips as a bubble of excitement erupted in your gut. Every single story he’s ever told comes rushing back to you, every minuscule detail— Is he thinking what you’re thinking?
“You two have zero structure. As much as it doesn’t need to be a big deal, you should still invite someone that you trust.” Yunho meets your eye as he finishes his sentence, and you watch as he realizes, catching a glimpse of the amusement on your features, he knows.
“I trust whoever you trust, Yun,” Mingi says plainly. “I trust you the most.”
You and Yunho stare at each other, lost in some kind of nonverbal contemplation, who was going to tell Mingi what both of you were thinking? He jerks his chin in the direction of your boyfriend, the action so small it was almost unnoticeable, his eyes saying Go ahead.
So you do.
“Min,” you say quietly, turning to look at him, and Mingi meets your gaze with an absentminded look. As if Yunho couldn’t hear, you ask your boyfriend, “Why don’t we ask him?”
Mingi’s face contorts into bewilderment. “He can hear you— I— Are you crazy?”
You look at him, really look at him. We trust him.
Mingi’s face doesn’t change. He’s my best friend.
You pull your lips together in a line. He’s the only Dom we know. He can help us.
Mingi glances at Yunho, then back to you. Are you sure?
You smile. I’m sure.
When you both looked back at Yunho, his face had completely morphed into something different. Stronger. Thrill is racing in your blood, excitement and nerves combined encouraging the trickle of sweat beneath your clothes. You didn’t give yourself a moment to think, not about what could go wrong, not even about what would go right. Just sitting across from him had your mind floating, staring at that corner of your consciousness where you were everything and nothing all at once, waiting.
Mingi said something. You weren’t listening.
Yunho sat deeper into the couch, knees spread and outstretched in front of him, a smirk on his lips. “God, I thought you would never ask.”
Amusement still rippling in your eyes, impatience sitting shallow beneath your skin, you blink, “What do you mean?”
“The night you were ‘sick’?” He bends two long fingers on each hand around the word, “Don’t think I didn’t know why you kicked me out. What my words were doing to you both.”
Your body flushes, he even felt your temperature that night, yet he knew the whole time? Smirk still etched into his skin, he says, “You both looked at me like you wanted to eat me alive. Like you needed me to put you in your place.”
The breath that leaves your lungs is staggered and Mingi catches it, he could probably feel the arousal radiating off of you, smell the wetness pooling between your legs. You wanted this more than you realized, you think, and you hoped he did, too.
“Is that what you’d do?” The words stumble out of your mouth before you can think about them, “Put us in our place?”
Yunho meets your eye again and his gaze laid upon your body is all consuming, like being under a microscope, as if he can see the brat that laid dormant between your ribs. Voice swimming with simplicity and clean control, he says, “If you give me a reason to.”
He shifts his focus to your boyfriend and you feel colder without it, “Do you want this, Mingi?” With eyes on him and him alone, still exuding confidence and strength, he asks, “Or is it just your pretty little girlfriend that wants me?”
You and Mingi both gasp. Holy shit. Mingi stared, lips parted, you were sure his mind was going a mile a minute about all the things that could go wrong, how he hadn’t done any research on this.
Hold on, Yunho thinks you’re pretty?
“I’m nervous,” Mingi responds, his voice small, brushing his pinky finger against your thigh, but keeping his eyes trained on Yunho. Ignoring the pretty little girlfriend part doesn’t surprise you at all. With a little more confidence, he says, “We should talk about this.”
“We will talk about it,” Yunho nods, “I wouldn’t do this without talking about it first. I need to know your limits, boundaries, what you’re comfortable with. I need to know if you want it most of all though, Min.”
Mingi turns to you, a fire in his eyes, one that you couldn’t place specifically. Nerves or arousal, stress or excitement, they could burn either way. With an even smaller voice, low and raspy, he asks, “Are you sure about this?”
“I trust him,” you say just above a whisper, “If you don’t want it, we don’t do it. Period.”
“Baby,” he squeezes his eyes shut, dropping his head down, voice smaller than you’ve ever heard it, “I want it so fucking bad.”
You smile, peeking to look at Yunho, giving him a quick nod. You turn back to Mingi, excitement laced in your words, “Then let’s do it.”
“I need to hear you say it, Mingi,” Yunho cuts in, voice slicing through the room, an order. Mingi’s cheeks are bright pink as he stares at his best friend across the room, fingers fidgeting with the strings of his sweatpants, nervous. “Don’t be shy with me, I know everything about you, Min. I’ve seen your worst, and I’m still saying yes to fucking you.”
The huff of air that leaves Mingi slices through the room like a knife. It relayed every thought he was keeping trapped inside, every feeling he wasn’t sure if he should feel, as if he released the last bit of apprehension so the truth could lie bare. He looked at Yunho as if he handed his pride over to his best friend to hold between his long fingers, as if one harsh squeeze would leave Mingi ashamed for the rest of his life, as if he’d lose Yunho if this went all wrong.
Mingi swallowed, “I want this.”
Yunho smiled, “Great.” And as if he could read Mingi’s thoughts, his expression just as well as you could, he added, “You won’t regret it, I promise.”
Mingi nodded, leaving silence to lay over the room like a blanket. You steal a glance at your boyfriend, the both of you seeming to be thinking Well? What now?
Yunho answers your thoughts once more, “Tell me what you’ve done, what works, what doesn’t. Any boundaries, hard limits, things that are an immediate No.”
You purse your lips, trying to rack your mind, because in all seriousness you really haven’t tried all that much besides choking, some light power play and orgasm denial.
When you nor Mingi answer right away, the smile on Yunho’s face only grows, sly and knowing. “You guys are like two virgins sitting across from me. Say something.”
As if the one sentence took the edge off completely, you smile, and the lock on your vocal chords open. “We’ve just played around with choking, denying orgasms and stuff, some degradation. Nothing crazy.”
“I did that once,” Mingi raises a finger, a nod of his head.
“I don’t really know what I’d be into or not into,” you shrug, “Do you have, like, a list?”
“What, like a survey? Check off the box next to each kink if you’re into it?”
That rips a laugh from your lungs, “Fuck you, I don’t know. I don’t even know what there is to say no to.”
Yunho’s smile is somewhere between amused and plotting, eyes thinned and menacing. “Okay, then tell me what is an immediate Yes. What you do want.”
You purse your lips again, but Mingi answers first, the confidence in his voice taking you completely by surprise. “I like being choked, and I like when she’s mean to me, but nothing too mean, more like when she calls me names. I don’t know about being spanked or slapped.”
You nod, “Choking and names, yes. Spanked and slapped also yes.”
“Okay, we’re getting somewhere,” Yunho nods, “When you say names, you mean slut, whore, etcetera…”
You and Mingi nod, saying yes simultaneously.
“And we’re both okay with orgasm denial, how about overstimulation?”
“Yes,” you say in unison with your boyfriend once more.
“Then let’s start there,” Yunho leans forward again, elbows on his knees, legs spread before him. “I won’t be too harsh with you. If you guys are still interested in exploring, then we’ll save it for next time.”
He’s already thinking about next time?!
“Have you figured out a safe word already?”
You and Mingi nod, but Mingi says, “It’s kiwi. We googled safe words and it said fruits are good words to use.”
Yunho tries to ignore his amusement but his smile leaks through the mask, “Kiwi, okay. I can kiss you both, touch you both, there’s no limits when it comes to that, either?”
You and Mingi both shake your head. You add, “We’re yours to do whatever you want.”
“Good,” Yunho says, then turns to you, back to the demeanor exuding strength and power, “For starters, never say fuck you to me again, unless you want to watch me ruin your boyfriend while you sit in the corner, watching.”
Your breath hitches in your throat, your body stilling, heat erupting beneath your skin. The thought of him touching Mingi without you, doing anything without you present, active… a shiver racks down your spine, eyes wide and alert. You nod, then squeak, “Understood.”
“So sweet,” Yunho smiles, “I’m gonna have fun with you. Come here, pretty.”
You glance at Mingi, who looks like a deer caught in fucking headlights, eyes wide and slightly panicked, lips pulled into a line. His face seemed to say, He wants to do this now?!
You hold his stare, Should we?
His eyes fly to Yunho, then land back on you, his jaw tightening as he thinks. You can see the thoughts form, the churning of contemplation in his mind, but you watch as they soften, chocolate eyes melting under the heat of his best friend. His lips perked up at the corners, but his eyes told you he wasn’t completely sure, “Don’t keep him waiting, baby.”
You swallow but still stand on shaky legs, sauntering across the room, around the coffee table, approaching Yunho who shifts as you come closer, body sinking into the couch and spreading his knees. His face is too calm and collected, too casual, as if he’d truly been waiting for this, as if he’d seen this picture in a dream. You stand before him, socked toes wiggling against the hardwood as he looks you up and down, eyes catching on your big tee, staring where it swallows your shorts beneath. You were not dressed for the occasion, but he didn’t seem to care.
“Come on,” long fingers hit the top of his thighs, patting muscles and clothed skin, his slacks bunched where his thighs met his pelvis. “Sit.”
Your heart thumps beneath your chest as you sink a knee on either side of him, your head immediately turning to look back at your boyfriend. Yunho catches your chin with his hand before you catch a glimpse, his voice stern, “Eyes on me.”
You didn’t think you’d be apprehensive– every bone in your body was screaming yes, but the thighs beneath you were so different from Mingi’s, more narrow, just as strong but more slender, a lankier build than your muscle mass of a boyfriend. The difference had your body confused, your muscle memory warped, but your muscles relaxed in his hold, submitting to his grip on you, long fingers hooked on either side of your jaw. You stared into the well of bronze below his brows, lighter than Mingi’s, but hardened with steady control.
“Do you still want this?” His voice was low, almost a whisper on your skin, “Be honest. We can just watch a movie, try again another time, or never talk about it again.”
“I do,” It took a single hammered heartbeat to answer, “I want this.”
He smiles again, sweeter this time, “Then kiss me.”
He guided you toward him with his fingers still wrapped around your jaw, his lips softly melting with yours, and the feeling was… Strange. Smaller than Mingi’s but just as soft, you adjusted, allowing him to take the lead, following his lips as his hand traveled to your cheek, taking up every inch of space from your jawline to your ear. It was dizzying, Yunho kissed like he was already undressing you, inside you, passion and lust and conjoining, you could feel every intention behind it. It didn’t take long for your hips to rut against his.
As good as it was, it was still weird. Being with one person for so long but enjoying another, guilt nibbled at your soul, at every ounce of blood in your body that circulated only for Mingi. His hands dropped to your hips, palms covering bone, fingertips digging into plush skin, moving you against him. Your lips still followed his, body pliant for him, your arms flying to his shoulders to keep you steady.
Yunho pulled away after a moment, back relaxing into the cushions, hands laying softly on your hips, he averted his eyes to your boyfriend who sat across the room.
“Min,” you turned your head as Yunho called his name, eyes widening as you took in the view of your boyfriend. Body stretched out before him, jaw locked, eyes glazed over, still somewhere between horny and hesitant. “Come here,” Yunho’s voice was softer now, control still tangled within his words but he’d mixed in something calmer, soothing.
Mingi loosed a heavy breath as he stood, taking the seat beside Yunho, his limbs locked and rigid. You met his eyes, trying to understand what laid below the surface, and for the first time in years you couldn’t read his mind. Yunho’s head still hung lazily over the couch, his eyes raking over his best friend, his thoughts you couldn’t place either.
Yunho’s hand reached out to touch Mingi’s face, his thumb caressing his smooth, pink cheek, a small smile sitting on Yunho’s face as he touched him. Yunho locked a laugh inside his chest as Mingi shuddered, his voice quieter now, “Wanna kiss me?”
Mingi looked like he saw a ghost. Rapidly blinking, his lips opening and closing, yet leaning into Yunho’s palm resting on his cheek. Mingi nodded once, and that was all Yunho needed to lean in, to attach his lips to Mingi’s.
Your lips parted as theirs met, a rush of adrenaline seeping into your bones as they kissed, softly at first, questioning and experimental. Your eyes widened as their kiss deepened, Mingi’s body turning to face Yunho, a rough palm coming up to cup Yunho’s cheek, the two of them holding each other.
It was… Passionate. You wondered if Mingi was feeling the same things you did, the guilt, unease, the feeling of it all being foreign. It didn’t look like it, but you wondered how you looked kissing Yunho, if it appeared anything like this. The heavier it grew, the higher your temperature raised, a blazing heat consuming you as every nerve ending sparked. Watching Mingi kiss someone else— Yunho of all people— had you even more confused than you were before, horny but jealous, enjoying the show but wishing they were touching you, too.
Yunho’s hand slid down to Mingi’s jaw, grabbing it the same way he grabbed yours, you watched as his fingertips turned white with pressure, his grip tightening to ignite jealousy in your fucking soul. You rolled your hips at the sight before you, unsure if it was to get their attention or if it was because of the bucket of arousal that had been dumped on your head.
A hand left Mingi’s jaw to slide up your thigh, to rest on your hip, urging you to continue. You leaned forward at the attention, your hand reaching under Yunho’s unbuttoned shirt by the collar, fingers caressing his collarbone to his shoulder. Your lips followed, tongue licking up his neck, tasting sweat and Yunho as you kissed his jaw, the two still making out just above your head.
Yunho’s hand slid up to your waist beneath your tee, still keeping the other hand on your boyfriend’s jaw, somehow appeasing both of you simultaneously. You think about what he said– God, I thought you’d never ask– It finally clicks that he’s been waiting for this. He wants it just as much as you two do. The thought makes you smile into his skin, your other hand playing with the buttons of his linen shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath it, wanting the wall between you gone.
Yunho finally breaks away from Mingi, both hands coming to your hips to still you, and you pull away from his neck. Both you and Mingi stare at him confused, waiting for instructions or compliments or degradation, you weren’t sure.
You would have never expected what actually came out of his mouth.
“That’s enough for tonight,” he leans back into the couch, eyeing the two of you carefully. You glance at Mingi who wore swollen lips and furrowed brows, you were sure you looked the same.
“That’s it?” Your eyebrows knit together, “Just some kissing?”
You were baffled. Yunho smiles, “Just some kissing. Now you’ll know if you really want it, with me.”
“I know,” Mingi counters immediately, “I know. I want it, now. With you.”
You nod your agreement, “I know, too. I want it, Yunho.”
Yunho’s smile just grows, sly and wicked as per usual, “Think on it for a few days.”
You can feel him hard beneath you– You stare at him with wide eyes, eyebrows furrowed, jaw slack. The arousal sliding through your veins was begging to be released, the arousal for him, for what comes next. You sputter, blinking rapidly, “I– We don’t need to think. Are you serious?”
He laughs. Not condescendingly, one genuinely full of amusement, “I’m serious, baby.” His hands grab at your hips, lifting you to place you on Mingi’s lap instead, “Next time.”
You look at Mingi who shares the same expression, confusion and surprise, blue-balled. You look at Yunho who’s getting up from the couch, “You don’t want to?”
He stands before you then glances down at his clearly hard cock pressing against the material of his pants, “I clearly want it, but I know you two. You don’t do anything on a whim, everything is planned out, even sex. Think about it, talk about it, and call me.”
It was as you had jumped into the ocean, freezing water washing over you, waking you up while simultaneously putting you down. You blink at him, he was right, he knows the two of you far too well, but for once you didn’t need to think it through. You knew down to the essence of your being that you wanted this, wanted him, wanted to see what he’d do with you. Wanted to feel it.
“Don’t look at me like that,” He tilted his head, pouting, “I promise I’ll come back and fuck you stupid if you want me to.”
Oh, you burned at his words, you wondered what other filthy things could leave his pretty lips. Mingi spoke up before you got the chance to whine, “You’ll come when we call?”
Yunho nods, “I promise. We have, like, twelve more movies to watch, anyways.”
You groan, you forgot about your Marvel Marathon. “God, this is gonna be endless.”
“You have no idea,” He winks, fucking winks, and you sink into Mingi, fighting another groan.
He turns, grabbing his keys from the coffee table, and starts for your front door. He waves a hand as he approaches the door, calling behind him, “I’ll be waiting for your call!”
You and Mingi look at each other as he slips through the door, a thousand words going through your minds, but you speak first. “We are calling him tomorrow.”
Mingi laughs, head tipping backwards, his whole body falling into the couch. “He’s such an asshole, but he’s right. A correct asshole.”
“A correct asshole,” you huff, laying on top of your boyfriend, sinking into his warmth. “I’m horny.”
“Good thing I got a lil’ jealous seeing you kiss him,” Mingi says, his hands sliding up your waist, under your tee– His tee. “Come here.”
Synopsis ~ You come home to a broken pot and two guilty hybrids. When your dumb puppies just won't listen, you need to punish them. Though, it never works when they love punishments so much.
Pairings ~ puppy!yunho x owner!reader x puppy!yeosang
word count ~ 3.2k
Genre / warnings ~ EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MDNI!! porn without plot, degrading, punishments, puppy hybrids, choking, cum eating, messy
a/n ~ hardly read over at all ~ happy finals weeks.
You don’t like calling him a dumb puppy, or anything of that nature. But sometimes Yunho just… He just-
Sometimes you just can’t with him.
So when you come home to a mess in the living room, two dogs sitting frozen on the couch, one pointing at the other, the words just slip from your mouth. Yunho lowers his head, even if your voice isn’t loud. You stand in the doorway with a deep sigh.
“Yunho,” you say quietly. “What happened?” Yunho gets spooked easily, so you speak peacefully. They both do. Maybe you cottle them too much. He doesn’t answer, though. “Yunho,” you warn, stepping closer, and he raises his head quickly.
“Yeosangie and I were-”
“I wasn’t playing with him!” Yeosang interrupts, shaking his head quickly. His ears flop cutely in his brown frills. “He was playing with his new ball, and he threw it too hard against the plant, and it broke,” he explains quickly. Yunho shoots him a pouting glare, but Yeosang doesn’t look.
“Okay,” you sigh. “Yunho. What did I say about playing with the ball inside?”
“You said,” he starts, pausing. “You said no.”
You nod. “You didn’t listen, did you?”
It’s hard for puppy hybrids to think hard. You know it’s not entirely Yuyu’s fault. It must’ve been instinct to play with it. But even dogs learn to listen to their owner.
“Dumb puppy,” you sigh, rubbing your temple as you walk toward the kitchen. “I have to clean it up, so stay on the couch.”
You hear Yunho’s whine, but you pay it no mind. You don’t say a word as you thoroughly clean the floor until you can’t spot a single shard anywhere. They watch you silently the whole time, heads down in shame.
“Yunho,” you say as you walk back into the room from putting the broom away. He doesn’t answer, his eyes glossy as they eye you cautiously. Fuck, this is so frustrating. “Yunho!” you say angrily, and he whimpers, his eyes shaking slightly as he trembles. You scrunch your brows as a small wet spot appears on his pants. You scowl, stepping to him and grabbing his chin. “Bad dog!” you spit. “You like it when I’m angry? Does it make you feel good?!” He shakes his head hesitantly. “Is my puppy a liar, too?” He tries to shake his head again, but you grip his chin tighter and hold him still. “Show me.”
His hands are quick to grab his pants and pull them down. His cock is covered in his cum, sticky, wet, and painfully hard. You scoff, pushing his head to the side as you let him go. His hair falls in front of his eyes, but he doesn't move it. He doesn’t deserve to.
You lean over to Sangie with a soft smile, gently stroking the back of his fluffy brown hair. “My sweet Sangie,” you coo, and his tail starts to wag slowly. “How are you, baby? Did you have fun today?” He nods eagerly, and you place a soft kiss on his cheek. “Does Yeosangie want to play with me for a little?”
“Yes, please,” he says, shifting on the couch as he starts to get excited.
You smile, cupping his cheek as you press a soft kiss to his lips. You straddle his lap, sitting on his arousal and grinding slowly. His head falls back to the cushion, his lips parted slightly as he groans.
“Yunho is a bad puppy for playing recklessly inside, huh, Sangie?” you say, leaning down and nibbling lightly at his neck.
“Yeah,” he whispers, his breath trembling slightly.
“We have to punish him. He’s not allowed to play with us. But he’s gonna clean up our big mess, okay?” He sighs, presenting more of his neck for you to mouth at as his cock grinds against your sensitive clit. Yunho whines next to you, but you don’t pay him any mind, just feeling good with your behaving puppy.
You reach down and slide down Yeosang’s pants, his cock thick and wet with arousal as you slowly stroke it. He whimpers, his hips bucking into your hand, and you let him. The goal isn't to play for too long. The goal is to punish your bad dog.
He’s panting, fucking his cock into your tight hand as you meet his thrusts with your tight pumps. Yunho is whimpering, his cock hard and twitching as he watches Yeosang feel good.
“Yeosangie~” you coo. “Does it feel good, baby?” He nods, his brain too fuzzy to answer with words. Yeosang always gets like this so quickly. His fucked out expression as if you’ve been going for hours is your favorite sight. He’s practically drooling as his cock leaks and your pumps sound wetter and wetter. “Do you want to cum?” He nods even faster, whimpering at the thought. You stroke his hair with your free hand, scratching behind his ear, and his eyes roll back.
“M-Miss- I-!”
“No, you can say my name, Sangie,” you coo, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. “Good puppies get to say my name.” He forces himself to look into your eyes through his tears. “Can you say it for me?”
“Y/n,” he sobs. “C-cumm-!”
But you stop your hand immediately, and he gasps, his high falling away when it was so close.
“N-no, please, Miss, I’m so close. I-” You press your lips to his, pulling you pants off and hovering over his leaking cock.
“Shh, it’s okay, Sangie. Can you just put it here instead?” you ask, and he eyes between your thighs as his tip touches your entrance. This has always been off limits. His eyes are wide in pure shock. “Just like this,” you whisper, slowly stroking him again. He frowns, whining as the wet feeling rubs his head. You don’t sink down, just let his mess smear against you. As you stroke him faster and faster, he grips your hips, fighting the urge to pull you down. He whimpers and pants before he lets out a long moan as he creams all over your pussy. You shiver, sliding his head through your lips, feeling it catch against your clit.
“Good puppy,” you coo, stroking his hair as he leans back against the couch in satisfaction. He’s completely overtaken by the moment, his eyes hazy and lost. You enjoy his expression for a moment longer before you turn reluctantly toward your bad puppy. He’s sitting completely still a foot or two away, his cock painfully hard, eyes glued to the mess Sangie had made between your thighs.
“Get on the ground,” you mutter, and he scrambles to the floor.
You lean onto Yeosang, arching your back to put his mess on display. You can hear Yunho’s breath pick up as you wrap your arms around Sangie’s neck, resting your head on his shoulder.
“Since I cleaned up your mess, clean up mine,” you say.
He doesn’t move, and you swear you’re going to really yell at this dumb dog. You bring one hand back and motion for him to come closer. He scoots across the floor until his hair is in your grasp, and you grab his locks, pulling him harshly against your pussy. He yelps in surprise, but his tail wags like crazy as a low groan vibrates against you. He’s quick to understand for once, lapping at your folds. You let go, sinking back into Sangie. Fuck, this is what you needed. You grind down on his tongue as he licks from your hole to your clit.
“Fuck, what a good puppy,” you moan, scratching at Yeosang’s hair. “Just like that, baby.” His tongue teases your hole, and you want nothing more than you push back and fuck yourself on it, but he needs to thoroughly clean you like a good puppy. But it’s itching at you so persistently, the need to be fucked into your pretty puppy.
“Do a…” You whimper, “Good job, Yunho.”
He just groans in response, the vibrations to your clit making you shiver. His tongue is delicious, slick and big, and, oh… You squeeze Sangie’s head tighter, moaning out as your eyes roll back. It’s so loong too, plunging into your needy, soaked hole. But this… this feels so~ good. This… isn’t… Fuck. You reach back and grab his hair, pulling him off. This isn’t about you. This is about teaching him a lesson.
You reach down and pull Yeosang’s hardness in front of your pussy. “Clean up Sangie now,” you breathe, and Yeosang whimpers into your ear. You turn your head to watch as Yunho eagerly licks from Yeosang’s base to his tip, Sangie’s body trembling in pleasure and overstimulation. You whisper sweet praises in his ear as his hips twitch toward Yunho’s mouth.
Yunho licks every inch, swallowing every bit of cum until the only messy thing is Sangie’s leaking tip. But Yunho takes it between his lips and sucks, and it’s clear Yeosang cums instantly, Yunho’s brows furrowing and eyes rolling as a new mess appears, only now leaking from his lips as he tries to take it all.
You groan at the sight. “Good boy, Sangie.” You sigh a laugh, but Yeosang is too fucked out to hear.
Yunho’s lips and chin are covered in cum when you turn around. You take him by the chin and open his mouth. It’s sticky with cum, but he definitely is trying to swallow it all. Maybe he can be obedient sometimes.
“You’re being so good for me, puppy,” you praise, and he whines, scooting closer. “I guess I should give you a reward.” You push his back to the floor, crawling on top of his lap. “This is only for today because I feel bad for being mean,” you sigh. And because you need your hole filled NOW. “Do you understand? Don’t expect this again.” He nods immediately, but you know he isn’t even listening.
But it doesn’t matter. You’re too far gone to have any rational thought about why you shouldn’t give your troublesome puppies a taste of your warm, slick hole. You know you’ll regret it, but you slip down his thick cock anyway. Yunho’s jaw drops, his hands flying to your shirt, pulling at it as he panics. Poor puppy. He’s always so sensitive. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when he feels this good.
You place a hand on his stomach to keep your balance, breathing deeply as you sit completely on him. Fuck, he’s so big. You could cum just feelimg him inside, but it looks like Yunho wants to ravage the warmth surrounding him. You could never let him go at his own pace. He’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk for days. Fuck, you need to get him under control.
“Puppy, keep your hands to yourself,” you say, removing his grip from your shirt before he rips it off. He shakes his head, panting and whining as he scratches at the carpet. “I’ll move if you’re good,” you say softly, and he nods.
He doesn’t hear you, does he? He keeps squirming, attempting to move you with his hips. You just stay still until he settles down. When he finally does, though, his lips twitch as he slowly bares his teeth, and a low growl escapes him before he grabs your hips, lifts them, and slams them back down.
“Fuck!” you choke out, your chest slamming against his. You try to sit back up, but his movements force you back down each time, your arms going limp. He fucks up into your soaked hole as he slams your hips back down, whimpering and panting into your ear. “Bad dog,” you mutter, your voice breaking with each word. “Bad… ngh~” Your eyes roll back as he changes his angle, thrusting fast and continuously against that perfect spot in you. Your eyes roll back, your mouth practically drooling as you go limp in his hold. “S-Sangie,” you moan. “Sangie, c-come here, puppy.”
He’s by your side in an instant, eyes worried as he can’t tear them away from Yunho’s huge cock plunging into your hole at an alarming rate.
“Sangie, help me up,” you whimper, and he helps you sit up, your body bouncing on Yunho’s lap now, and you cry out at the change, your head falling back in a series of uncontrollable moans. But you manage to lean forward, and you wrap a tight hand around Yunho’s neck, panting hard. “Don’t you ever fucking listen?!” you growl, and his hips slow to a stop. “I said you don’t get a reward unless you’re good.” You tighten your grip on him, and he whimpers. You reach back with one hand and pull his leaking cock out. He panics, shaking his head dramatically.
“No, no, I’m so sorry,” he cries. “I didn’t mean to! I don’t know what came over me! I-!”
“Sangie,” you breathe, pulling the good puppy closer. “Will you fuck me and show this stupid dog how to be a good boy?” Yeosang whimpers in excitement, nodding as he moves behind you. You guide him inside, holding Yunho’s neck tightly as Yeosang stuffs you full. He’s gentle as he hardly moves, and you have to coax him into fucking you a bit harder.
“See how well he listens?” you ask Yunho, and he’s pouting, the only friction he gets being the slight rub of your skin against his cock each time Yeosang thrusts inside. You can tell Yeosang is starting to feel really good, overstimulation turning to pure pleasure. He’s panting, his grip getting harder, a bit bruising even. He’s never held you so hard, never used your body for his pleasure, even just a bit. But he’s meeting your hips, grunting as he thrusts hard.
“Good boy, Yeosang,” you moan, and he moves faster with the praise.
“I’m a good puppy,” he breathes.
“You’re so big, baby,” you moan.
“Does it feel good?” he asks between moans. “I feel so good, ngh~” He’s talking nonsense, his lisp fighting against his words as his breath speeds up. “Feels so good. So tight. Why is Miss so tight? She takes good care of us, but she’s so small.” He thrusts harder and harder.
And a small growl escapes his lips, and your eyes open from their fucked-out trance.
“Does anyone else get to feel here? Or is it just us, Miss?” he asks, whimpering a growling softly. “I don’t want anyone else feeling this. They might take you away.”
“No one will- ah~! Sangie, c-calm down a bit!”
“I want it to be mine,” he groans. “I’m a bad dog. I can’t listen. Fuck, Y/n..ngh~ Please, please,” he repeats his pleas as his thrusts slam you against Yunho’s chest. “Please be mine. Please don’t go to anyone else. W-We can take care of you..hh~ Y-Yunho and I will make you feel good.”
Yeosang’s never talked this much, but now he can’t seem to stop. His hips only seem to slow when he spots Yunho’s aching erection.
“B-both of us,” he breathes, “will make you feel so good.” You feel your hole stretch impossibly wider and Yunho’s cock is pressed inside. You cry out, your nails digging into Yunho’s shoulder as the puppy lets out a low growl.
“Please say it,” Yeosang whines. “Please promise, a-and we’ll be good.” You can hardly think, your mind blanking at their cocks press against every crevice within you. Yunho gets as deep as he can, his lips trailing your neck.
“Y/n.” Yunho’s sharp words take you out of your trance, your eyes shooting to his. “Say it.”
“S-say… say what?” you mumble. “Say your pussy is ours. Say you’re ours.”
They don’t move, and it’s impossible to think at all with them stuffing you so full. You try to push back against them, but Yunho holds your hips in place.
“Only good girls get a reward,” he says in a low voice. You feel Yeosang’s breath against your neck, a whimper meeting your ears.
“Please say it,” he breathes, his teeth grazing against your neck.
“F-fuck,” you cry. “I’m yours. Please, just fuck m-!”
Your face drops to Yunho’s shoulder as both cocks thrust in and out, plunging deeper and deeper each time. Tears stream down your cheeks, your breath mixing with your moans as they squish you between them. Yeosang’s teeth sink into your neck, and you arch your back, trembling as your clit rubs against Yunho’s crotch. You move again, feeling the friction bring you closer and closer.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you squeal, your movements frantic as their thrusts pick up. “Fuck me,” you breathe. “Sangie, puppy, God you’re so bi~g.” You cup Yunho’s cheeks, hardly able to lift your head as you smash your lips to his. His tongue tastes like sex as you frantically move your mouth against his.
“Yunho,” you pant. “C-cum for me? You deserve it, puppy,” you whimper. “Cum in me and make a mess? Please? Please, fuck ngh~ fuck, fuck!” You spasm as you cream on their cocks, your arousal squirting and making a mess of Yeosang’s front. It drips to the floor and puddles there, but you’re too busy trembling and moaning to care about the mess. You fuck yourself back on them as you orgasm. Even as it dies down, it’s clear it’s not enough. You keep going. You reach behind you and grab Yeosang’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss, biting his lip as he fucks you into Yunho’s trembling figure. Yunho isn’t even moving anymore, Yeosang fucking the both of you to your next highs.
“Gonna cum,” Yunho whimpers. “Fuck, you’ll really be mine then,” he pants. You nod frantically.
“Inside,” you beg. “Fuck me full ngh~ Please~”
Your eyes roll back as you feel Yunho unload inside, your walls squelching as you cum again, squeezing the both of them.
“Fuck it’s so tight,” Yeosang whimpers. “There’s no more room. You’re so greedy, taking all of Yunho’s cum. Can you even take mine?” You nod quickly.
“Yes, God, yes, Sangie, Sangie please~!”
Yeosang’s harsh thrusts stop, and he pumps you even fuller. You’re leaking, his slow grinds pushing out your mixed arousal. It’s so lewd. You feel so full.
“Fuck, I’m….” you mumble, limo against Yunho’s chest. You shouldn’t have done this. But you’ve never felt so satisfied in your life.
“It’s okay, Y/n,” Yeosang sighs, gently brushing your hair behind your ear. “We’ll clean this mess up.”
-
And you were right to hesitate and regret. You knew your disobedient puppies wouldn’t stop with just once.
You’ll wake up to Yunho rutting against your back, and as soon as you wake up, he’ll press his dick against you and beg for you to let him inside.
Or you’ll be reading in the living room when Yeosang comes between your legs, his cheek resting on your thigh until you take the hint and let him eat you out.
It’s not like you ever say no. You love them too much. It’s just… they get so obsessed with you. They’re so stupid. You can never train them, no matter what you try.
Synopsis ~ You come home to a broken pot and two guilty hybrids. When your dumb puppies just won't listen, you need to punish them. Though, it never works when they love punishments so much.
Pairings ~ puppy!yunho x owner!reader x puppy!yeosang
word count ~ 3.2k
Genre / warnings ~ EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT MDNI!! porn without plot, degrading, punishments, puppy hybrids, choking, cum eating, messy
a/n ~ hardly read over at all ~ happy finals weeks.
You don’t like calling him a dumb puppy, or anything of that nature. But sometimes Yunho just… He just-
Sometimes you just can’t with him.
So when you come home to a mess in the living room, two dogs sitting frozen on the couch, one pointing at the other, the words just slip from your mouth. Yunho lowers his head, even if your voice isn’t loud. You stand in the doorway with a deep sigh.
“Yunho,” you say quietly. “What happened?” Yunho gets spooked easily, so you speak peacefully. They both do. Maybe you cottle them too much. He doesn’t answer, though. “Yunho,” you warn, stepping closer, and he raises his head quickly.
“Yeosangie and I were-”
“I wasn’t playing with him!” Yeosang interrupts, shaking his head quickly. His ears flop cutely in his brown frills. “He was playing with his new ball, and he threw it too hard against the plant, and it broke,” he explains quickly. Yunho shoots him a pouting glare, but Yeosang doesn’t look.
“Okay,” you sigh. “Yunho. What did I say about playing with the ball inside?”
“You said,” he starts, pausing. “You said no.”
You nod. “You didn’t listen, did you?”
It’s hard for puppy hybrids to think hard. You know it’s not entirely Yuyu’s fault. It must’ve been instinct to play with it. But even dogs learn to listen to their owner.
“Dumb puppy,” you sigh, rubbing your temple as you walk toward the kitchen. “I have to clean it up, so stay on the couch.”
You hear Yunho’s whine, but you pay it no mind. You don’t say a word as you thoroughly clean the floor until you can’t spot a single shard anywhere. They watch you silently the whole time, heads down in shame.
“Yunho,” you say as you walk back into the room from putting the broom away. He doesn’t answer, his eyes glossy as they eye you cautiously. Fuck, this is so frustrating. “Yunho!” you say angrily, and he whimpers, his eyes shaking slightly as he trembles. You scrunch your brows as a small wet spot appears on his pants. You scowl, stepping to him and grabbing his chin. “Bad dog!” you spit. “You like it when I’m angry? Does it make you feel good?!” He shakes his head hesitantly. “Is my puppy a liar, too?” He tries to shake his head again, but you grip his chin tighter and hold him still. “Show me.”
His hands are quick to grab his pants and pull them down. His cock is covered in his cum, sticky, wet, and painfully hard. You scoff, pushing his head to the side as you let him go. His hair falls in front of his eyes, but he doesn't move it. He doesn’t deserve to.
You lean over to Sangie with a soft smile, gently stroking the back of his fluffy brown hair. “My sweet Sangie,” you coo, and his tail starts to wag slowly. “How are you, baby? Did you have fun today?” He nods eagerly, and you place a soft kiss on his cheek. “Does Yeosangie want to play with me for a little?”
“Yes, please,” he says, shifting on the couch as he starts to get excited.
You smile, cupping his cheek as you press a soft kiss to his lips. You straddle his lap, sitting on his arousal and grinding slowly. His head falls back to the cushion, his lips parted slightly as he groans.
“Yunho is a bad puppy for playing recklessly inside, huh, Sangie?” you say, leaning down and nibbling lightly at his neck.
“Yeah,” he whispers, his breath trembling slightly.
“We have to punish him. He’s not allowed to play with us. But he’s gonna clean up our big mess, okay?” He sighs, presenting more of his neck for you to mouth at as his cock grinds against your sensitive clit. Yunho whines next to you, but you don’t pay him any mind, just feeling good with your behaving puppy.
You reach down and slide down Yeosang’s pants, his cock thick and wet with arousal as you slowly stroke it. He whimpers, his hips bucking into your hand, and you let him. The goal isn't to play for too long. The goal is to punish your bad dog.
He’s panting, fucking his cock into your tight hand as you meet his thrusts with your tight pumps. Yunho is whimpering, his cock hard and twitching as he watches Yeosang feel good.
“Yeosangie~” you coo. “Does it feel good, baby?” He nods, his brain too fuzzy to answer with words. Yeosang always gets like this so quickly. His fucked out expression as if you’ve been going for hours is your favorite sight. He’s practically drooling as his cock leaks and your pumps sound wetter and wetter. “Do you want to cum?” He nods even faster, whimpering at the thought. You stroke his hair with your free hand, scratching behind his ear, and his eyes roll back.
“M-Miss- I-!”
“No, you can say my name, Sangie,” you coo, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. “Good puppies get to say my name.” He forces himself to look into your eyes through his tears. “Can you say it for me?”
“Y/n,” he sobs. “C-cumm-!”
But you stop your hand immediately, and he gasps, his high falling away when it was so close.
“N-no, please, Miss, I’m so close. I-” You press your lips to his, pulling you pants off and hovering over his leaking cock.
“Shh, it’s okay, Sangie. Can you just put it here instead?” you ask, and he eyes between your thighs as his tip touches your entrance. This has always been off limits. His eyes are wide in pure shock. “Just like this,” you whisper, slowly stroking him again. He frowns, whining as the wet feeling rubs his head. You don’t sink down, just let his mess smear against you. As you stroke him faster and faster, he grips your hips, fighting the urge to pull you down. He whimpers and pants before he lets out a long moan as he creams all over your pussy. You shiver, sliding his head through your lips, feeling it catch against your clit.
“Good puppy,” you coo, stroking his hair as he leans back against the couch in satisfaction. He’s completely overtaken by the moment, his eyes hazy and lost. You enjoy his expression for a moment longer before you turn reluctantly toward your bad puppy. He’s sitting completely still a foot or two away, his cock painfully hard, eyes glued to the mess Sangie had made between your thighs.
“Get on the ground,” you mutter, and he scrambles to the floor.
You lean onto Yeosang, arching your back to put his mess on display. You can hear Yunho’s breath pick up as you wrap your arms around Sangie’s neck, resting your head on his shoulder.
“Since I cleaned up your mess, clean up mine,” you say.
He doesn’t move, and you swear you’re going to really yell at this dumb dog. You bring one hand back and motion for him to come closer. He scoots across the floor until his hair is in your grasp, and you grab his locks, pulling him harshly against your pussy. He yelps in surprise, but his tail wags like crazy as a low groan vibrates against you. He’s quick to understand for once, lapping at your folds. You let go, sinking back into Sangie. Fuck, this is what you needed. You grind down on his tongue as he licks from your hole to your clit.
“Fuck, what a good puppy,” you moan, scratching at Yeosang’s hair. “Just like that, baby.” His tongue teases your hole, and you want nothing more than you push back and fuck yourself on it, but he needs to thoroughly clean you like a good puppy. But it’s itching at you so persistently, the need to be fucked into your pretty puppy.
“Do a…” You whimper, “Good job, Yunho.”
He just groans in response, the vibrations to your clit making you shiver. His tongue is delicious, slick and big, and, oh… You squeeze Sangie’s head tighter, moaning out as your eyes roll back. It’s so loong too, plunging into your needy, soaked hole. But this… this feels so~ good. This… isn’t… Fuck. You reach back and grab his hair, pulling him off. This isn’t about you. This is about teaching him a lesson.
You reach down and pull Yeosang’s hardness in front of your pussy. “Clean up Sangie now,” you breathe, and Yeosang whimpers into your ear. You turn your head to watch as Yunho eagerly licks from Yeosang’s base to his tip, Sangie’s body trembling in pleasure and overstimulation. You whisper sweet praises in his ear as his hips twitch toward Yunho’s mouth.
Yunho licks every inch, swallowing every bit of cum until the only messy thing is Sangie’s leaking tip. But Yunho takes it between his lips and sucks, and it’s clear Yeosang cums instantly, Yunho’s brows furrowing and eyes rolling as a new mess appears, only now leaking from his lips as he tries to take it all.
You groan at the sight. “Good boy, Sangie.” You sigh a laugh, but Yeosang is too fucked out to hear.
Yunho’s lips and chin are covered in cum when you turn around. You take him by the chin and open his mouth. It’s sticky with cum, but he definitely is trying to swallow it all. Maybe he can be obedient sometimes.
“You’re being so good for me, puppy,” you praise, and he whines, scooting closer. “I guess I should give you a reward.” You push his back to the floor, crawling on top of his lap. “This is only for today because I feel bad for being mean,” you sigh. And because you need your hole filled NOW. “Do you understand? Don’t expect this again.” He nods immediately, but you know he isn’t even listening.
But it doesn’t matter. You’re too far gone to have any rational thought about why you shouldn’t give your troublesome puppies a taste of your warm, slick hole. You know you’ll regret it, but you slip down his thick cock anyway. Yunho’s jaw drops, his hands flying to your shirt, pulling at it as he panics. Poor puppy. He’s always so sensitive. He doesn’t know what to do with himself when he feels this good.
You place a hand on his stomach to keep your balance, breathing deeply as you sit completely on him. Fuck, he’s so big. You could cum just feelimg him inside, but it looks like Yunho wants to ravage the warmth surrounding him. You could never let him go at his own pace. He’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk for days. Fuck, you need to get him under control.
“Puppy, keep your hands to yourself,” you say, removing his grip from your shirt before he rips it off. He shakes his head, panting and whining as he scratches at the carpet. “I’ll move if you’re good,” you say softly, and he nods.
He doesn’t hear you, does he? He keeps squirming, attempting to move you with his hips. You just stay still until he settles down. When he finally does, though, his lips twitch as he slowly bares his teeth, and a low growl escapes him before he grabs your hips, lifts them, and slams them back down.
“Fuck!” you choke out, your chest slamming against his. You try to sit back up, but his movements force you back down each time, your arms going limp. He fucks up into your soaked hole as he slams your hips back down, whimpering and panting into your ear. “Bad dog,” you mutter, your voice breaking with each word. “Bad… ngh~” Your eyes roll back as he changes his angle, thrusting fast and continuously against that perfect spot in you. Your eyes roll back, your mouth practically drooling as you go limp in his hold. “S-Sangie,” you moan. “Sangie, c-come here, puppy.”
He’s by your side in an instant, eyes worried as he can’t tear them away from Yunho’s huge cock plunging into your hole at an alarming rate.
“Sangie, help me up,” you whimper, and he helps you sit up, your body bouncing on Yunho’s lap now, and you cry out at the change, your head falling back in a series of uncontrollable moans. But you manage to lean forward, and you wrap a tight hand around Yunho’s neck, panting hard. “Don’t you ever fucking listen?!” you growl, and his hips slow to a stop. “I said you don’t get a reward unless you’re good.” You tighten your grip on him, and he whimpers. You reach back with one hand and pull his leaking cock out. He panics, shaking his head dramatically.
“No, no, I’m so sorry,” he cries. “I didn’t mean to! I don’t know what came over me! I-!”
“Sangie,” you breathe, pulling the good puppy closer. “Will you fuck me and show this stupid dog how to be a good boy?” Yeosang whimpers in excitement, nodding as he moves behind you. You guide him inside, holding Yunho’s neck tightly as Yeosang stuffs you full. He’s gentle as he hardly moves, and you have to coax him into fucking you a bit harder.
“See how well he listens?” you ask Yunho, and he’s pouting, the only friction he gets being the slight rub of your skin against his cock each time Yeosang thrusts inside. You can tell Yeosang is starting to feel really good, overstimulation turning to pure pleasure. He’s panting, his grip getting harder, a bit bruising even. He’s never held you so hard, never used your body for his pleasure, even just a bit. But he’s meeting your hips, grunting as he thrusts hard.
“Good boy, Yeosang,” you moan, and he moves faster with the praise.
“I’m a good puppy,” he breathes.
“You’re so big, baby,” you moan.
“Does it feel good?” he asks between moans. “I feel so good, ngh~” He’s talking nonsense, his lisp fighting against his words as his breath speeds up. “Feels so good. So tight. Why is Miss so tight? She takes good care of us, but she’s so small.” He thrusts harder and harder.
And a small growl escapes his lips, and your eyes open from their fucked-out trance.
“Does anyone else get to feel here? Or is it just us, Miss?” he asks, whimpering a growling softly. “I don’t want anyone else feeling this. They might take you away.”
“No one will- ah~! Sangie, c-calm down a bit!”
“I want it to be mine,” he groans. “I’m a bad dog. I can’t listen. Fuck, Y/n..ngh~ Please, please,” he repeats his pleas as his thrusts slam you against Yunho’s chest. “Please be mine. Please don’t go to anyone else. W-We can take care of you..hh~ Y-Yunho and I will make you feel good.”
Yeosang’s never talked this much, but now he can’t seem to stop. His hips only seem to slow when he spots Yunho’s aching erection.
“B-both of us,” he breathes, “will make you feel so good.” You feel your hole stretch impossibly wider and Yunho’s cock is pressed inside. You cry out, your nails digging into Yunho’s shoulder as the puppy lets out a low growl.
“Please say it,” Yeosang whines. “Please promise, a-and we’ll be good.” You can hardly think, your mind blanking at their cocks press against every crevice within you. Yunho gets as deep as he can, his lips trailing your neck.
“Y/n.” Yunho’s sharp words take you out of your trance, your eyes shooting to his. “Say it.”
“S-say… say what?” you mumble. “Say your pussy is ours. Say you’re ours.”
They don’t move, and it’s impossible to think at all with them stuffing you so full. You try to push back against them, but Yunho holds your hips in place.
“Only good girls get a reward,” he says in a low voice. You feel Yeosang’s breath against your neck, a whimper meeting your ears.
“Please say it,” he breathes, his teeth grazing against your neck.
“F-fuck,” you cry. “I’m yours. Please, just fuck m-!”
Your face drops to Yunho’s shoulder as both cocks thrust in and out, plunging deeper and deeper each time. Tears stream down your cheeks, your breath mixing with your moans as they squish you between them. Yeosang’s teeth sink into your neck, and you arch your back, trembling as your clit rubs against Yunho’s crotch. You move again, feeling the friction bring you closer and closer.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you squeal, your movements frantic as their thrusts pick up. “Fuck me,” you breathe. “Sangie, puppy, God you’re so bi~g.” You cup Yunho’s cheeks, hardly able to lift your head as you smash your lips to his. His tongue tastes like sex as you frantically move your mouth against his.
“Yunho,” you pant. “C-cum for me? You deserve it, puppy,” you whimper. “Cum in me and make a mess? Please? Please, fuck ngh~ fuck, fuck!” You spasm as you cream on their cocks, your arousal squirting and making a mess of Yeosang’s front. It drips to the floor and puddles there, but you’re too busy trembling and moaning to care about the mess. You fuck yourself back on them as you orgasm. Even as it dies down, it’s clear it’s not enough. You keep going. You reach behind you and grab Yeosang’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss, biting his lip as he fucks you into Yunho’s trembling figure. Yunho isn’t even moving anymore, Yeosang fucking the both of you to your next highs.
“Gonna cum,” Yunho whimpers. “Fuck, you’ll really be mine then,” he pants. You nod frantically.
“Inside,” you beg. “Fuck me full ngh~ Please~”
Your eyes roll back as you feel Yunho unload inside, your walls squelching as you cum again, squeezing the both of them.
“Fuck it’s so tight,” Yeosang whimpers. “There’s no more room. You’re so greedy, taking all of Yunho’s cum. Can you even take mine?” You nod quickly.
“Yes, God, yes, Sangie, Sangie please~!”
Yeosang’s harsh thrusts stop, and he pumps you even fuller. You’re leaking, his slow grinds pushing out your mixed arousal. It’s so lewd. You feel so full.
“Fuck, I’m….” you mumble, limo against Yunho’s chest. You shouldn’t have done this. But you’ve never felt so satisfied in your life.
“It’s okay, Y/n,” Yeosang sighs, gently brushing your hair behind your ear. “We’ll clean this mess up.”
-
And you were right to hesitate and regret. You knew your disobedient puppies wouldn’t stop with just once.
You’ll wake up to Yunho rutting against your back, and as soon as you wake up, he’ll press his dick against you and beg for you to let him inside.
Or you’ll be reading in the living room when Yeosang comes between your legs, his cheek resting on your thigh until you take the hint and let him eat you out.
It’s not like you ever say no. You love them too much. It’s just… they get so obsessed with you. They’re so stupid. You can never train them, no matter what you try.
cw: smut (18+), drunk!san with needy-desperate vibes (as always), afab!reader, friends-to-lovers, praise kink, mommy kink, handjob, nipple play (m!recieving), breeding kink, unprotected piv, eternal boner (you'll find out), mention of asian glow, san's fancam, not beta-read, etc.
wc: 4k (wow)
note: I WAS SUPPOSED TO FINISH LIKE THREE 1/4 DONE FICS BUT INSTEAD IM DOING THIS :) also i get asian glow too, so i love the representation i'm getting with drunk-teez!
1 shot
tonight was supposed to involve a pregame at your place before bar-hopping, but somebody decided to ditch you and turn in early (wooyoung). of course, it wasn't until 9:30 that you got the text.
you'd been waiting so patiently, only having one drink. you were saving the rest to share with your friends once he arrived. it was supposed to be the three of you, but now it's just--
2 shots
"maybe he's just tired because of work or something?"
san is sweet, trying to lighten your disappointment.
he just took his second shot, barely wincing as he swallows it quickly before gently setting the glass back on the counter -- you can tell he's trying to hide his distaste for the liquor.
"he's just hungover because he decided to go out without us last night, sannie..." you drone, "he's probably sleeping off the club."
"hm, you're probably right. but if he were here, it probably wouldn't be that fun if he's hungover."
"that's true..."
you pour another round of shots.
3 shots
"hey, let's play a game." san looks at you with bright eyes.
you can see it already -- the flush spreading across his cheeks. for such a big guy, he sure get tipsy easily.
"what kind of game? there's only the two of us."
"how about...apateu?"
"with two people?" he nods with a cute little smile. how could you deny him? "sure, if you want"
5 shots (for san)
you bite back an adoring smile as you watch san down a second shot. his expressions are a lot freer now, letting himself wince just from the smell of tequila, followed by a grossed-out groan after he takes it.
"okay, maybe we should stop. you've lost twice already." he's not very good at this game -- even when you let him pick the number for each turn.
"no, no, let's go again!" his eyes are glazed over, lids heavy from the liquor as he tries to convince you to continue.
you let a smile crack as you watch him sway prettily in front of you, "...you seem a lot more drunk than me though."
"hm?" he smiles back, "that's okay? right?"
you can't help but laugh at his adorableness. he picks up your shot glass and nudges it closer to you.
"just take one, so we're even."
it might just be the liquor, or that pretty blush on his face, but you're feeling bold.
"mm, but you had two, baby."
you say it so casually, yet he reacts to that word immediately. his expression is quickly replaced with something needy.
oh, so he liked that....
"t-then take two." he suggests with a stutter.
you pour yourself one more, right to the brim, and he watches on in awe. you drink it easily, enjoying the way san's eyes stare at your lips as you lick them clean.
"i don't think we're gonna make it to the bars tonight." you tease.
his small shy smile returns, "just stay here...with me, then."
5 shots + a glass of water (for san)
you guide san to the couch with a glass of water in your hand.
barely a few steps from the kitchen counter, he makes you stop for a moment so he can clumsily lace his fingers with yours.
"it's more secure" he murmurs shyly.
you don't say anything as you continue to lead him into the living room, but when you turn away you're biting your lip to stop yourself from pouncing on him.
you're afraid that your cuteness aggression will scare him away.
he immediately picks up a pillow to snuggle against his chest as he sits down. always needing something in his lap...
he looks up at you, all pink cheeks and smiles, as you set the glass of water down on the coffee table in front of him.
you sit down next to him and settle against the plush seat with a sigh.
"what now?" he asks eager and curious.
eager for what?
"well, first, drink some water," san obediently takes a few sips of water as you continue to speak, "do you want to watch a movie or something?"
you were planning on letting him crash on the couch, but how could you leave him when he's looking at you like that?
"hm..." he puts the glass down before looking back at you with a shy expression, "can we watch something else?"
"like what?"
"can i show you some of my fancams?"
"...fancams...?"
"yeah, i want to show you how i look in concert."
you almost giggle from how shy he's being. isn't tequila supposed to make you bolder?
"sannie, i've been to your concerts."
he pouts -- actually pouts, "but you haven't seen them like this!"
how could you deny him?
"ok, ok, let's have a look then."
you try to give him the remote to look it up, but he immediately struggles to type with it -- even turning off the tv at some point -- so you have to take over.
"so it's...'san fancam--'" you press in each letter individually.
"'--ice on my teeth 241115'" he finishes for you.
"...1...5..."
you finally type it all in and click on the video. you see woo (the ditcher of the night, you remind yourself) crouching in front of a sleekly dressed san, who looks very different from the soft and cuddly man next to you.
"how do you remember all of the numbers for the title?" you question as you finally relax back onto the couch.
he shrugs, "i dunno, i just do -- wait, start it over, we were talking during the start!"
"san, it's been like, two seconds."
"please??"
you start it over to placate him.
as you watch the video, you notice how quiet he is next to you.
he must be really into his own fancams...
you get it though. you've never watched his fancams before (you've only seen woo's because he forces you to binge them with him whenever you facetime), but he looks really good in that long coat, glasses, and with his hair slicked back like that, hitting every note with that stupidly handsome look on his face.
he looks so serious...so domineering. delectable.
so...not how you usually see him.
you turn to look at him, wondering if he's just as entranced by himself as you are -- but he's already looking at you.
you feel your cheeks heat up as you're caught ogling your friend, right in front of him.
"so...? do you like it?"
"yeah, it was a good performance, san."
"sannie." he corrects, "do you really like it, or are you just saying that?"
"no, i really like it--"
"which part? do you like the outfit? a lot of people say they like that outfit on me the most. but there's also one where i have on a see-through top..." he starts to ramble.
oh, now you know what he's looking for.
your voice is soft as you coo to him, "you looked great up there, sannie. so talented...and handsome." he smiles sheepishly as you compliment him, "did you show this to me because you wanted to show off? show me how good you are in front of a crowd?"
now he's shy.
"just wanted to know if you liked what you see."
you cradle his face with your hand, "you're so cute, baby," he melts against your touch, nuzzling his warm cheek against you, "just want some praise, hm?"
it's crazy that you have this man falling apart for you with a few words and a bare touch of your hand.
on stage, he looks so regal and put together.
right here? he looks undeniably soft and malleable.
"do you like me?"
"of course, i do." you caress his cheek with your thumb, enjoying the heat that radiates off his skin, "you're a sweetheart."
"no, like, do you like-like me?" his eyes meet yours, wide with hope and yearning.
"what, are we in middle school?" you tease.
he whines softly, "im serious"
you ignore his question and throw it back at him.
"do you like me?"
he's hesitant, timid, but eventually --
"mhm."
"oh really? since when?"
"since forever."
"why didn't you tell me?"
"because..." san briefly looks away, "because i don't know if you like me"
your hand drifts from his jaw to his chin. you can't help but admire his perfect features -- his fluffy hair, dark brows, intense eyes, cute nose, and...his lips.
you carefully glide your thumb over his pretty bottom lip, enamored by how pretty and pink it is.
he stutters out a breath.
"and if i do?"
"c-can you kiss me?" he sounds so sweet and timid when he asks. his eyes eagerly glance down at your lips as you drag his bottom lip down, revealing his pearly white teeth.
you're mesmerized by his mouth. you press against his perfect teeth and he opens up immediately, letting you drag your thumb against his soft tongue. he sucks it in, laving sweetly against the sensitive pad of your finger as he stares up at you, eager to please.
"such a good boy~"
he whines, brows furrowing in desperate need. what a sweet sound.
you move your hand from his mouth so you can get in a better position. you shift from the couch to his lap, wanting to feel his body against yours. his arms immediately loop around your body, finding your waist so he can press you closer.
you dip in, hand at the base of his neck to control him, and nudge your nose against his -- just to tease him. he tries to push up and press his lips to yours, but you stop him, hand firmly holding him back.
"what am i gonna do with you?" you shake your head, "silly boy..."
he looks confused, brows tighten together endearingly, an expression that's slightly embarrassed.
"i-i thought you wanted to kiss."
"did i say that?"
"n-no, but--"
"you think you're so pretty that anyone would let you hit?" your hand moves up to the center of his neck. you press gently on the sides of his throat, pulling a groan from his lips. "mm...maybe you are pretty..."
he shivers from the praise. you can tell he's trying to hold back, but he's still subtly trying to move his hips under you, desperate for any type of friction.
"please? just one kiss?"
"just one?" you ghost your lips on his.
he whimpers at the feeling. you guess his lips are especially sensitive.
"please"
you give in, leaning against his silky pink lips. you feel him melt against you, sighing into it like it's the sweet relief of water in a barren desert. he desperately attempts to pull you closer by your waist, but you're already firmly pressed against him.
he deepens the kiss, delicately licking against the seam of lips before diving in and dragging his tongue against yours. you taste the tequila and lust -- it makes you hungry for more. he moans prettily when you nip at his lips, sucking on the sweet, sensitive skin until it gets all puffy and plump.
when you break the kiss, he attempts to chase your lips for more, not ready to separate. you dodge his advances with an amused smile, loving how needy he is already.
"you said one kiss"
"mmm, i think i messed up on that one..." he swipes his tongue over his swollen lips as he stares hungrily at yours, eyelids heavy but gaze wanting, "can we try again?"
“maybe if you earn it again…”
he groans, “fuck,” he presses his hips against yours, making you feel how hard he is under his pants, “but i need you so bad, mommy.”
hearing that word slip from his beautiful lips almost makes you melt into a puddle, right on his lap. if it weren’t for the way you were straddling him, your thighs would’ve immediately pressed together from the amount of need you were feeling.
you press down on him just as eagerly, panting from the pressure of his hard cock against your aching clit.
"yeah? you gonna be a good boy and fill me up?"
"mhmm~" his deep voice drones, vibrating from his chest against yours, "please let me -- i need to be inside of you."
you roll your hips against him, coaxing cute whimpers from him with every press.
"think you deserve it?" you taunt. san can't even answer you, merely nodding with his eyes squeezed shut, reveling in the feeling of your body grinding against his.
your hands move down from his neck, over his chest and stomach before settling right against his covered cock. you can feel the way he twitches under his pants, desperately begging for attention.
he groans when you press against him, the minimal pressure is already too much for him to handle.
"you're already so hard for me." you stroke him over his pants, feeling the perfect contours of his erection even when separated by the fabric.
"m'always hard for you" he slurs, hips subtly flexed upwards in an attempt to feel more of you.
"let me see." you unbutton his pants with ease and use a bit of force to pull them off just far enough to reveal his pretty cock and the top of his legs. his blushing tip weeps delicately with beads of cum, already spilling against his shaft -- evidence of how close he already is to the edge.
when you wrap your hand around him, his body stiffens and his hands instantly grip over the top of your thighs to ground himself.
"w-wait...not yet--" he begs, head thrown back in ecstasy.
you haven't even done anything yet.
"sannie," you can feel him throbbing against your fingers, "baby, are you okay?"
"d-don't move." he shudders, "i m-might--"
you watch his facial expressions closely as you squeeze your fist around him, nearly drooling from the way his eyebrows scrunch together with intensity.
"oops..." you fail to hide your smile but it doesn't matter, he can't see it anyway. you swipe your thumb against the edge of his tip, massaging that sweet spot as his legs begin to shake.
you slip your other hand under his shirt, feeling up his muscled torso to his heaving chest. his skin is warm and smooth against your fingers and it makes you want to leave pretty marks all over him.
his back arches when you lazily drag your index finger against his nipple. you circle your finger around it experimentally and the needy bud hardens from your teasing touch.
"sensitive boy..." you hum.
he whimpers sweetly, "t-too much--"
you ignore his words and pinch his nipple. his mouth opens and he's barely able to take a handful of breaths before he's crying out in broken moans and thrusting against your hand. you work him through it with hushed praises, letting him fuck your fist until he's too weak to continue.
you take your other hand and run your fingers through his hair lovingly as his climax moves through him before caressing the back of his flushed neck. his overstimulated body shivers against your gentle touch, but he still leans into it.
he made a mess.
his cum spurted all over -- spilling over your hand and dripping on your lap -- so now, your pants (and his) are ruined. when san finally calms down a bit, he peeks down at the mess as well.
"i-i'm sorry, i tried to hold it in..." he stares at you with rounded eyes, sparkling with shame and embarrassment.
you tilt your head as you regard the flushed man before you, "if you're gonna be so messy, clean it up." he cowers slightly at your taunting words.
"h-how..."
you lift the hem of his shirt wordlessly and -- after a moment of confusion -- he obediently raises his arms to let you take it off. he watches on with a surprised expression as you bundle it up and use it to wipe your hands and lap.
"what? you thought i'd make you lick it up?" you tease, "didn't know you were that much of a pervert."
"i-no, i d-don't know." he stammers.
you accidentally brush against him as you're cleaning up and his body jolts harshly from the feeling. you gently move the shirt away and notice that he's still hard.
how the fuck--
he can feel your stare.
"u-um...it's..." he attempts to cover himself up with his hands, "this is normal." you throw his shirt to the side and take him by the wrists. you move his hands away and his cock twitches from your attention.
"is it?" when you look up at his face he's blushing, thoroughly embarrassed by his needy body.
"only...when i think of you." he says quietly, "y-you can just ignore it though." he stares at the way your smaller hands wrap around his wrists.
cute.
just to see what he'd do, you put his hands on your body, leading them up from your hips to your chest. he immediately gropes your tits in his large hands, letting out a pathetic noise.
"didn't know you were so insatiable..." you push him away and get off of his lap. he whines from the loss of contact but as soon as he sees you start to strip for him, he's silent, watching on in awe.
you pull off your shirt but leave your bra on -- just another way to tease and deprive him of what he wants. next, you shimmy off your pants before throwing them in his lap.
"look at the stains you left on them," you pout, "those were new." (no they weren't) "you're gonna have to buy me a new pair."
"yeah, o-ok, i'll buy you anything you want..." san ignores the pants and continues to stare at you with a cute spaced-out expression, refusing to miss even a second of you nearly naked in front of him.
he looks so good sitting there, waiting so patiently for you. his broad shoulders -- that stretch every shirt he owns -- lift every so often with the deep breaths he's taking.
his bare body is tan and fucking chiseled, you swear you could get off just grinding on his stupidly perfect abs. and the way he's keeping his hands to himself, despite how eager his cock stands for you.
when you start to approach him again, he shoves the stained clothing away to make room for you. you caress his face as you settle on top of him again.
"don't worry, baby, i'll help you."
"fuck, please."
back on top of him, you roll your hips so your covered cunt just barely grazes his hard cock. he lets out a helpless groan from the bare touch.
"oops, i forgot to take these off..." you snap the waistband of your panties against your hips, "is it okay if we just shove them to the side?" you ask, guiding his hand to feel the lace that decorates the edges.
he tugs at the fabric with thinly veiled frustration. you're surprised he hasn't lost it already. you loop your arms around his neck, letting him touch as much of you as he wants.
his hand travels under your thighs to press right over your clothed center.
"just don't mess these up too, okay?"
"i'll try my best" he presses the pads of his fingers against your cunt, feeling your wet slick soak through the thin fabric of your underwear. "f-fuck, you're already dripping."
"i'm all ready for you, sannie..." you press your hips against his hand, "you could probably just slip it right in" you whisper.
that's all the convincing it takes for him to push his hand under the fabric and run his finger against the soft lips of your cunt.
"feels good, baby~" you shove your face against the crook of his neck, mouthing and nipping against his skin. he hums gratefully at the praise -- it almost sounds like he's purring.
your slick coats his fingers as he rubs them against your sopping hole, gently pressing into you until you stretch around him. you bite your lip as he thrusts into you shallowly, barely able to finger-fuck you correctly because of how far his arm is stretched around your body.
you swear you're making a mess of his hand, dripping everywhere because of how much you want him inside of you. you pull your face away from his neck, eyes locking with his, "sannie, just fuck me."
you lift your hips up enough to press his weeping cock against you.
"b-but what about--"
you pull him in for a kiss and he immediately leans into it, melting against you once again. if you weren't so horny, you'd gush over how easy he is for you.
"don't worry, baby, i can take it."
san listens, pulling your panties to the side so he can position himself against you. he runs his cock against the seam of your cunt a few times to lubricate himself enough before slowly pushing against you. you press down at the same time, legs shaking slightly as your body stretches to accommodate his size.
"o-oh, fuck!" he chokes out, overwhelmed by the feeling of your soaking cunt sucking him in. you both moan when you sit all the way down, letting him fill you to the brim.
"mm...you fill me up so good, baby." you sigh, starting to roll your hips against him. he's so big that he presses against all the special spots inside of you with every move you make.
his hips involuntarily jerk upwards every time you lift your hips away from him, desperately needing to feel you all around him. he'd probably like cockwarming, you think -- or you would think if he wasn't fucking the thoughts from your mind.
"m-mommy, it's -- too much--" his hands wrap around your waist, squeezing faint bruises into your skin as he grapples with the feeling of your tightness fluttering around him.
your head tilts back as you speed up against him, "be good, sannie..." your breaths come out short and labored, "let mommy use your cock -- mm...fuck, yes." your mind is hazy as he hits all the right places inside of you.
he whines, pressing his face against your chest as you move against him, "i don't think i'm going to last." he twitches inside of you, already worked up to the edge.
"then go ahead," you breathe, "cum in me."
you feel the way his hips flex at the thought of filling you up, of making a mess out of you.
"i-i shouldn't..." he says -- but he's fucking up against you harder.
"why not, sannie?" you taunt, "don't want to get me pregnant?"
he lifts his head from your chest to look at you, "p-pregnant?"
"mhm," you smile down at him, "give me your babies so i can't go anywhere."
you're suddenly pressed against his hips, hard, his cock stretching you to your limit. you can feel him everywhere. you moan loudly, cunt fluttering uncontrollably from the intense pleasure he's pressing into you.
"you'd be mine?" he questions with an eager tone, almost innocently so. you can feel the way he throbs inside of you, just a touch away from tipping over the edge.
he refuses to move until you answer him.
so you try to. at least with the 1% of brain power he leaves you with.
"a-and you'd be mine." you can barely focus on the words you want to say.
san starts to shallowly thrust into you, "i'm already yours..."
"then i'm yours too."
his hands cradle your face as you continue to move against each other more desperately. he guides your face to his, pressing his lips against yours messily, teeth dragging and tongues mingling.
it's like he's only doing it to taste you. to feel you because he can't believe you're real. to claim your whole body because he can't take being away from you, even by a few centimeters.
you reach your highs together, moving perfectly in sync until you're both shaking in pleasure. you feel his hot cum fill you up, spurt after spurt -- so much in fact, you can feel it start to drip out of you, down his cock, and onto his lap.
"fuck, i might actually get pregnant from this." you say to yourself.
Synopsis ~ No words. No sight. No thoughts. You grew here in this cell, alone. You realize there’s a person on the other side of the cell wall when you hear his cries. You can’t speak. You can’t see. You can’t touch. But he becomes your closest friend. Closer than the silence of the cell. Until that silence is disturbed. And you need more than his soft voice. You need to escape. You need him.
Pairing ~ prisoner!yunho x prisoner!reader
Word count ~ 13.8k
Genre / warnings ~ explicit sexual content MINORS DNI, romance, prisoners, cells, handcuffed, muzzle, blindfolded, mention of forced pregnancy, cult-like implications, stripped for an audience, non-consensual touching at times, a bit disturbing, kind of a roller coaster, murder, blood, cursing, forbidden love, fight for love, yunho's an idol, yunho not referred to by name for most of it, petnames: puppy / princess / baby / etc., desperate touching, desperate love, masturbation, shower sex, oral sex (male recieving), kissing, grinding, rough sex, crying, comfort
a/n ~ tell me what you think ;p
There’s a person on the other side of the wall.
Tied up with thick cuffs, a tight muzzle around your mouth, dark cloth over your eyes. You see the wall with your hands as you roam your cell when master goes away.
The lonely, timeless days and nights are all the same, except now you have a friend.
He’s silly. When he wants to say hello, he taps the wall in a cute way, tap tip-tip tap tap.
He enjoys your company too, becoming comfortably silent as you hum him a song. Your lips can’t move because of the muzzle, so all you’ve ever confessed to him are your songs.
He sings for you too, and you love his voice. It’s low, and, if you press close enough to the wall, you can feel its vibrations.
You call him puppy in your head because whenever you want to play with him, you hear him eagerly scrambling to get to the wall, just like a little puppy.
You wonder what your puppy looks like. You wonder why master keeps him. You wonder if he wonders the same things about you.
But today is exciting. Today is a shower day. You’re not sure how often master lets you shower, but you haven’t gone out since you first noticed your new friend. You can hardly sleep, you’re so excited.
This could be your chance to see him.
The guard comes just as the black of your blindfold starts turning to a dark gray. He guides you with a padded arm out of your cell. You know the exact placement of every crevice in the cell relative to you. You stub your foot into the side of the entrance as he guides you out. You fall to the ground with a harsh slam. The concrete isn’t kind to your skin, and you feel your blood trickle onto the ground nicely.
The guard curses and grabs your scraped arm, pulling you to stand. He’s impatient, the tight schedule of the dungeon pulling his mind toward careless rushing.
He guides you again, whispering to himself in annoyance, and you stumble over his foot, almost crashing to the ground again.
“Fuck!” he growls. “Why do you need this stupid fucking blindfold anyway?!” He’s whispering but screaming in frustration, spitting into the air as his hand yanks the blindfold from your eyes.
And suddenly the light is blinding you for the first time in forever.
“Don’t tell anyone, bitch,” the guard spits, and you nod, blinking rapidly as he urges you to move again.
You go right, eyeing the next cell. Its glass is squeaky clean. He’s new, just like you thought. As you walk, slowly, stumbling in pain, you look closely into the cell, and, finally, you see him there.
Your puppy.
He’s big, hands tied up on his bed and black prisoner rags baggy on his figure. His muzzle matches yours, by what you’ve gathered from feeling it, desperately scratching to get it off. His head lays sleepily and sadly on the mattress, and his hair is a dark brown, nearly black, wavy as it falls into his eyes. And his eyes… aren’t covered like yours should be. They’re wide, and beautiful, and gazing right at you. Your puppy nearly jumps from his bed, his pupils trembling, but you slowly shake your head, and he freezes.
You love your puppy even more now, innocent and adorable as he begs you with his eyes to stay in his view. But the only thing you can give him is a squint of your eyes to show your attempt at a soft smile.
And then you turn the corner, and he’s gone.
You shut your eyes tight, facing straight forward as the guard guides you, though you know the route by heart. When you stop, it’s not at the showers, and when the guard suddenly hits the floor, you know he’s dead.
“My, look at you.” Master’s voice is chilling, but you’ve grown numb to it over time. He likes to talk, for you can do nothing but listen. “My favorite girl knows how to act,” he praises. The blindfold, lying uselessly around your neck, is yanked back over your eyes. “She knows that if she opens her eyes, she’ll be killed.” He pats your shoulder, stroking it lightly with his thumb, and you press your lips together tightly, the uncomfortable damp warmth of his skin making a quick gag approaching their seal. You feel his breath beside your ear, a thick string of drool between his teeth as he stretches his lips with his words. “I might have to reward her.”
The shower never felt so rewarding as it does after having that creature lay his hand on you. You can hear his slime slick from his skin to the floor as he moves. As the cold water spills over your shoulders, you sigh, feeling it all melt away as if it’s steaming.
The water slides down your bare body, one you’ve never seen, its form unfamiliar to you, as you haven’t known yourself since being a little girl. You feel the metal of the belt around your hips. You don’t know why they cover your genitals with this belt, but it makes cleaning very difficult.
But now, alone where no one but the stream can see you, you could grin if not for the muzzle restricting your lips. Your mind keeps straying to his face, one you’ve, since you first heard his gentle cry from the other side of that wall, dreamed of seeing. You were able to witness for a split second. And you’re addicted.
As soon as you’re put back in your cage and the clacks of the guard’s shoes leave the hallway, your puppy scrambles to the wall. He hums softly but eagerly, quietly so that no one knows, but loud enough for you to know it's desperate. He whines softly until you hum back. You can imagine him now, head resting against the wall, hair dragging softly along its surface as he stares into the concrete as if he might see you. He wants to see you again, you can feel it in the whimpers as he scrapes against the wall. You want to see him again, too. But that desire can’t overtake you. You’ve lived here, grown here in this dungeon. You know patience is the only way you can even have the privilege of thinking about getting what you want.
For now, you close your eyes and think of your beautiful puppy’s face. You drift to sleep like that, listening to his soft, even breaths.
When you awake, the blindfold is pitch black. The dungeon is silent except for your puppy’s breath. It isn’t even or calm. He must be having a bad dream. He’s panting, soft, muffled whimpers reaching your ears. You sit up, your brows furrowing. Something isn’t right. There’s a new sound, one you’ve never heard before, from his side of the wall. Something slow and wet rubbing together. Could it be that the poor puppy was so scared in his sleep that he had an accident?
“Mm?” you call out softly, and he gasps. The noise stops instantly, and he goes silent. You hum again, quietly, with pure concern, and he whimpers, almost guiltily.
No, it’s okay, puppy, you’re not in trouble.
But then the sound continues, and he lets out a shaky breath. You smell something sweet in the air, something warm and new. Your eyes grow wide as it all clicks suddenly. Looking down at your hands tied in front of you, your mind wanders quickly to what he might be doing just a few inches away from you. He’s panting now, his breaths vocal and soft and desperate. He’s trying to hold his voice back, his nose working hard but failing to breathe. You hear him squirm against the concrete, and you can imagine it vividly, having seen him with your own eyes. And he’s beautiful, pleasuring himself. His voice, higher than its usual low, soothing tone, needy and shameless. His body, thin yet large, clinging to the wall as he bends his tied arms uncomfortably just to make himself feel good. It’s wet. It’s so wet. He’s leaking all over himself, his precum lubing himself as he goes faster and faster.
Puppy has never acted like this before. Why is he suddenly so desperate? And why is just hearing him like this making you so dazed?
His breath grows heavier, his movements desperate, his rhythm lost until it suddenly stops, and his voice disappears, the wet slide of his hand going slow until it stops completely, and he’s able to catch his breath.
You sigh, leaning your head against the wall. He had all that fun without you and expects you to be patient with your plan? How are you not supposed to rush to see him?
You sleep on your bed for the rest of the night. He deserves to sleep alone after making everything so much more difficult for you. You could scream into your pillow. You need more than just hums and songs through the wall. You need to be with him.
Master comes to visit you more often these days. He never comes inside, and you’re grateful. He just talks to you, tells you about his problems. It’s good that he’s warming up to you, that you’re his favorite. You want something from him.
On the seventh time he comes to visit, you come up close to the glass and put your hand against it.
“What is it, girl?” he asks, coming closer. You can hear his breath near your face, but you force yourself to stay there. You slowly reach with your hands and grasp your muzzle, tilting your head with furrowed, pleading brows. Then, you touch the glass again, right where his breath sounds. He hums. “Now, what could my little girl possibly need her mouth for?” But, of course, you can’t tell him. You sit there, pleading with your grip on the glass, until he sighs. “I suppose she could keep me company.”
That night, when the blindfold starts to grow darker, the muzzle is unlatched from your jaw. Your face aches and trembles as you stretch your lips for the first time in years. It hurts, but it’s so amazing, finally having your jaw free. Finally, you can start your escape.
Master doesn’t come back for a while. He said he will be busy, but you should reteach yourself to speak properly for when he returns. You will. You’ll talk all night long, all day, all week, forever to your wall. For your master, of course.
Puppy knocks quietly on the wall, and you’re the one who scrambles to meet him there in excitement. He’ll be so happy. He’ll want to escape with you. He’ll help you, and you can get out of here. And you’ll be together.
Your breath trembles as you gaze at the black of the cloth, sitting on the cold floor in your tightly bound clothing, staring toward the wall. He’s silent. He must have heard everything. He listens well when you have visitors. He must know that he’ll finally be able to hear you speak to him.
“I…” Your voice is soft, only for his ears. “I’m Y/n.” He hums happily. Maybe he likes your name. “Do you know… you’re so pretty?” you ask, knowing he can’t answer. He’s quiet, and you can imagine the soft blush on his cheeks. “I’ve been alone for years. You’re my only friend. All I want is to see you again. You’re so pretty…” You lean your head against the wall, wishing it wasn’t there more than ever. “Do you think I’m pretty?”
“Mhm!” he immediately responds, and you can’t stop the wide smile that you can finally make without close restrictions.
“Is that why you were so worked up? The time you saw me?” He goes quiet, even his little excited breaths disappearing for a moment.
“Mhm…” He’s quiet, embarrassed.
Your face starts to heat up, as if you could feel his warm breath across your skin. “It’s not fair,” you whisper, “that you get to touch yourself when I can’t.” He huffs, a soft laugh echoing throughout the cells. “Is that funny?” you scoff, but he just continues his gentle laugh until you can’t help but smile too, tilting your head in disbelief.
You lay and talk to him for hours. Or forever. You can’t keep track of time, but the cloth grows grey, and you’re still talking. He’s so engaging, in all ways that he can be. You tell him stories of your life before coming here and even funny things you’ve encountered in the cell. You ask him how the world has changed, and he’s mostly responded no to your guesses.
“But who are you,” you sigh, laying on your back, staring at the ceiling through the thick mask over your eyes. “What’s your name? I want to know so bad.” He sighs. “How old are you? Why are you here? What was your life like?” But he can’t answer. “For now, you’ll just be my friend.”
“My girl, your voice is as pretty as ever. You’re almost fully developed, I can see. Soon, we’ll put you on display for the elders.” Master takes your hands in his, clasping them harshly, and you fight the urge to pull away. “Since the elders would love you even more with those lips of yours bound up, I’ll let you have them out until they see you.” You force a soft smile.
“Thank you,” you whisper, “Master.”
“Oh, that sounds nice,” he coos. “Is that what you call me in that tiny head of yours?” You nod. “How obedient.”
“I want to be good for you.”
He sighs with a soft chuckle. “I knew you were special since you were just a little girl. Now, look at you.”
Fuck, you’re going to throw up. No, no, hold it in.
“Thank you for looking after me, Master,” you say, keeping the smile plastered on your lips.
He sighs before moving away from you. “Prepare her carefully over the next few days. Make her perfect. By Sunday, I want her in the tank.”
Your eyes grow wide in both horror and relief. This is it.
“Thank you, Master,” You say, and his hand taps your cheek.
“Enjoy your voice, girl. It’ll be gone again soon.”
“Puppy, don’t be scared,” you whisper through the wall. He’s breathing heavily, soft, suppressed sobs escaping his lips. “Shhh… It’ll be okay. I’ll protect you no matter what.”
“Mhm,” he whimpers. “Mhm. Mhm…” His voice is breaking. He’s crying, and yet you can’t reach out and wipe the tears from his cheeks. Your fists clench, bound together uselessly.
“I won’t go anywhere without you,” you whisper.
The footsteps echoing through the hall don’t belong to a guard or master. It’s someone new.
“I’ll come back for you no matter what.”
“L/n. Please come with me.” It’s a lady. She has a soft voice, but she raises it knowingly to something commanding yet comforting. She won’t hurt you. She’s simply following orders. No malice. No evil. You get up, staring at the wall as if you could see it or your puppy sitting with wide, tear filled eyes, desperately trying to be silent.
You follow her. No need for a guide. When she sits you down in a cushioned chair, she slowly removes the blindfold from your eyes. The room is dimly lit, as they understand you haven’t used your eyes in years. You keep them closed.
“Open your eyes,” she says, and you do. “Look straight ahead. Do not let them stray.” You do.
In front of you is a TV. You saw them in your home when you were younger before the day you were sold away. It’s a small box, showcasing an auditorium. You’ve only ever seen one of those once when you went to a theater with your mother. The audience on the TV is filled with old people, both men and women. They’re watching the stage, but you can’t see what exactly it is. The camera is on the stage, it seems.
“Have you seen their faces before?” the lady asks, and you stare harder at the screen. Glancing from face to face, you come to realize, you know only one. You nod. “Which one?”
“Right side. Third row. Seven seats in.”
She writes it down.
“Any others?”
“No.”
“And who is that lady then? Whom you recognize?”
She’s old, but, of course, anyone would recognize her if they were you. You dreamed about her face every night or whenever sleep would grace you. You dreamed about what you would do to her if you ever saw her again. Old, wrinkly, and ugly, but surely her…
“My mother.”
She writes it down.
“How many years have passed,” you ask curiously. You can’t take your eyes off of her. Senses unbound completely, your expression contorts into something small and furious, “since the day I came here.”
“Don’t scrunch your face,” she says, and you stop. “We’ve worked hard preserving your features. Don’t ruin it, or he’ll kill you for being useless.”
Your brow twitches at the new information. Preserving your features? That makes sense. In your muzzle and blindfold, you could hardly move your face, your smiles stiff and restrained, features moving but hardly without great pain.
“Will I get to meet her again?” you ask, and she writes silently, the scribbles of the pencil filling the room as you watch the old people on the screen, frustration filling you.
“You’ll know soon enough.” She senses your body heat rising quickly. “Be patient.”
Right, she’s right. Patience.
“She’ll be rewarded greatly for her sacrifice,” she says.
“Who are the elders? Them?” you question, but she doesn’t answer.
“Tomorrow, you’ll be groomed and then put in a new cell so you look perfect for Sunday.”
“What day is it today?” you ask, a sudden rush of concern hitting you. Do you only have a day to figure everything out?
“Return her to her cell.”
No. No, that’s not enough time. You thought you had more time. You can’t figure everything out in a day. If you’re taken away… you won’t get to escape. It’ll be over. You can’t do it. You can’t figure it out.
Rough hands cover your features with your muzzle and blindfold, and everything is once again locked away.
Your cell is silent until it’s not. The guard has left, but there’s a body looming over you. Your eyes are wide, your lips quivering. They smell familiar, and the trembling breath is something you know well, but it’s not possible. It isn’t until soft, trembling hands scratch at your blindfold that you see him. His forehead is pressed against yours, his body pushing you into the wall. His brows are pinched as he desperately gazes from one eye to the other. Puppy.
His whimpers would meet your lips if not for the muzzles surrounding our mouths. He’s surrounding you completely, much bigger, much stronger than you, but he doesn’t even realize it, trying to be closer and closer to you. Though your hands are bound, he wants to touch you, sitting between your legs as he brings your bodies as close as possible.
You’re confused, and concerned, and overwhelmed, but the happiness of seeing your puppy right here in front of you overshadows all of those feelings. Tears are dripping from his eyes, maybe from bliss or worry. It’s so beautiful.
You lean closer, letting your head fall to his shoulder. His whimpers meet your ear, his soft breaths matching your own.
You look around and immediately spot the hole in the corner of your cell. Fuck, if anyone finds that, you’re both dead. You’ll cover it with your bed. It makes you laugh, just how small the hole is compared to your big puppy. He must have been so desperate to see you, squeezing in any way he could.
And then your laugh fades, and a tear drips from your eye.
It’ll be okay.
You push him away gently, and even so he’s reluctant. It takes a soft, reassuring hum to get him to move away. His eyes are so pretty, big and bloodshot, just for you to gaze into. You slowly close your eyes, and he pulls the blindfold over them once again. Then he’s gone, the soft scrape of your bed against the concrete sealing him into his side of the wall.
It’ll be okay.
You’re stripped almost completely, the only things left being the cuffs around your wrists, the chastity belt, and the muzzle around your jaw. A body once bound tightly by clothing is now bare. Your youthful features are perfect in their eyes. They’ve done a phenomenal job preserving them. To you, they’re unfamiliar. Ugly. Not your own. The only thing familiar to you which you want at all is your puppy. The compliments they give you as you walk down the halls, eyes unbound but closed, are disgusting, if anything, but meaningless. You become deaf for the first time in years. Your only sense has always been your hearing, but now you forget that too. You are nothing for the long minutes walking mindlessly down the hall, hands tied to a man, tied to Master, tied to the audience that you will be presented to.
When you open your eyes again, the tank is here. It’s on the stage which was blocked on the TV. It’s full of clear liquid, but it must not be water. Its surface doesn’t dare move. It’s thick, almost solid. The final preservation.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” Master has never raised his voice to such an extent before. It’s always been quiet and broken, just for your ears. Now, he speaks to hundreds, if not thousands of elders much like him. “Our latest graduate! Her visuals are phenomenal, voice like a siren, and obedient like the perfect woman!” The room erupts in a quick laughter. “We’ve grown her from a young girl to a beautiful adult, donated by one amongst you! Please take a close look! She’s a beauty!”
You’re urged forward, your feet stumbling momentarily until you’re brought under a blinding spotlight. You can’t see the audience anymore, only imagine the faces some of them would make as he described you. Tongues darting out, wrinkly, cracked lips wetted, smirks, trembles as they said something to the person beside them. The years locked in your cell, you could never even guess as to why you were locked away. You still have no idea what’s happening, but if you had known your eyes would adjust to this light and see those faces, staring at you, drooling at you, bare in front of them, you would have risked it all to run away. Fuck patience.
Now your master’s slimy, clammy hands are pushing you toward that tank. And you can say nothing. Do nothing but look. Hands and mouth bound, you can do nothing but look.
The liquid is thick. You’ve only ever touched water, so what could this possibly be? It’s sticky, drawing you inside slowly and carefully. To your legs. To your hips. Your body trembles, cold, terrified.
“This graduate is simply too perfect to sell,” Master explains to the audience, gently stroking your hair. You almost give in and push him away. “But, if we have one perfect girl, why not twenty more? Why not fifty?!” He laughs, and everyone follows along. “I’m sure you’ve read all about our new technology! It’s revolutionary! This fluid preserves her youthful features both externally and internally. Her eggs won’t die with age. She can produce to her full capability while frozen in the tank! Isn’t it wonderful?”
You can hear your heart over the oohs and aahs of the creatures in the crowd. It’s loud and fast yet not fast enough to support your churning mind. Should you kill yourself right now? That thought enters twice for every three thoughts of escape entering your mind. You really should. You should just kill yourself before your body enters this fluid completely.
It’s up to your chest, your arms frozen practically solid already. You’re gone. You’re done. You can’t even end your life. This is your ending.
It’s to your neck. Your heartbeat is gone from your ears, from your chest, but it continues on. It’s odd. It’s frozen, but you move slowly into it. It stops all functions, but all of your senses are enhanced within its cold envelope. It seeps into the muzzle, filling what little space is creviced in its metal to your lips to your jaw. You can’t breathe, but somehow the fluid breathes for you, air entering and exiting your lungs at a steady rhythm. Your ears. You can’t hear any longer, as if you could before. As if everything hadn’t gone numb the second you learned the truth. The second you saw the tank. The audience. Your eyes are too late to close as they’re submerged in the fluid. They won’t close. They won’t flutter. They look out into the audience, wide and unrestricted. Finally, you can see. Forever you’ll see. This is what you’ll see. The top of your head is overtaken by the fluid, and the tank closes. Everything is silent. Everything is numb. Everything is fucking over.
And you have to watch it all happen.
Master comes around the front of the tank holding a tube of sorts. He opens a little door on the front of the tank and reaches into the fluid. Nothing spills out. It stays obediently still. He reaches the tube toward your chastity belt, but freezes, his eyes darting to the tank. Through the tank. He looks terrified, eyes bulging from their sockets. He drops the tube, desperately tugging at his arm to free it from the fluid. He turns to run, but a hand grabs his hair and slams him to the ground. You would start sobbing at the sight. Puppy, livid, veins bulging from his arms to his neck to his face. He raises his arms high, and when he slams them down, an axe splits Master’s head from his neck. The blood sprays over the glass of the tank, covering it completely. You hear a muffled slam and then the entirety of the glass shatters all at once. It collapses around you, but the fluid stays all the same. You see him, panting, painted red, glaring at you as he grips the axe, now snapped in two.
When he finally drops it, his brows soften, his veins pulsing but calming as he reaches out. His hands rush through the fluid, faster than they should be able to. He grabs you, and he pulls you to him until only the remnants of the fluid touch your skin, and you’re held tightly in his arms. You fall limp, the coating of the fluid preventing you from being able to move much. Even if you could, you might’ve just let your puppy take you away, leaning your cheek against his chest. The hallway, as he runs from the stage, is covered in blood from the floor to the ceiling. You close your eyes, feeling his hold on you tighten the further he travels and the bloodier the stench and the sight becomes. Until you hear something you haven’t heard in years.
Birds.
Trees.
Wind.
Him.
You let your eyes look up into the sky. It’s so blue. Who knew something could be so blue?
You recognize the glass box, the phone, the city. It’s timeless, unchanging from what you remember. It’s familiar. How nice. Puppy sets you down, and you lean weakly against the glass. He strips his shirt from his skin and quickly fumbles it over your head. What was tight on him is huge on you, covering you from your shoulders to your thighs. His chest is bare, but he doesn’t care.
He works quickly on your cuffs. They’re practically unbreakable. Night after night, you would desperately rub them and scratch them and bang them however you could, but they were unbreakable. He snapped them in two, the metal falling to your lap uselessly. Your hands tremble as they reach out… uncuffed. His eyes look from one to the other as your hands cup his cheeks, fingers wrapping around the latch to his muzzle. It’s much like yours, only bigger. With a few motions, it too was gone, and you could see his pretty features completely. He was adorable, soft, newly abused lips perfect and plump, trembling as he paws at your own muzzle. He must not know how to take it off. His lips form a gentle scowl in frustration as he grips and pulls at it. You let him struggle for a while, smiling softly. How nice this feels… to be wanted so desperately. To be loved so thoroughly.
“Y/n,” he whimpers, and your eyes twitch, tears just touching the surface at the simple sound, so low, so pretty from his voice. “Help me, please,” he whispers.
You cover his hands with your own, and he leans his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering closed as you slowly unlatch your muzzle. You set it aside and run your fingers through his hair, pulling his head just a bit closer. His breath trembles against your lips, so comforting as you start to shiver in the cool breeze.
“What’s your name?” you whisper, and his eyes flutter open.
“Yunho,” he answers, gazing at your lips as they form a gentle smile.
“Yunho,” you repeat. “Yunho. Yunho is pretty too. So pretty.”
“You lied to me, Y/n,” he whispers, and your smile fades. He’s hurt. “You said you would come back no matter what, but you didn’t.” His jaw clenches, and your lip trembles as you slowly slide your hands from his hair.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble. “I’m sorry, Yunho, I-”
He grabs your hands and keeps them there, stopping their retreat. He shakes his head quickly. “No, it’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, Y/n, I came for you. I wanted to promise you that I would and- and I wanted to help you, but I couldn’t say anything, but now I can. I would have followed you even if you never came back.” He nods, gazing into your wide, tear-filled eyes. “Just don’t go, please. Please, don’t go. Stay here, a-nd we’ll get help, and we’ll be o-okay.”
You nod immediately, and his hands slowly slip from yours, a soft sigh leaving his lips.
He looks away, a deep blush on his blood-splattered cheeks. “Thank you,” he mumbles, a small, relieved smile shyly spreading on his lips.
The change piled on the phone, a kind gesture by the locals, trembles as he picks them up one by one. He takes a shaky breath as he finally brings the phone to his ear. It clicks softly as the other person picks up. “Hyung…”
You wait in an alleyway. It’s dark, the only light flickering above your heads. You’re tucked close together, your face nuzzled into the side of his neck. It’s freezing, but you have nothing but the heat of your bodies to keep you warm. His friend is coming quickly, but it’s been an hour at least. You’re both shivering, breathing the same air, holding each other close. Until the alley lights up, and a car screeches to a halt a bit away. You both glance up, eyes wide and hopeful.
“Yunho!” a man shouts, stumbling out of the car. He rushes over to you as Yunho slowly helps you to your feet.
“Yunho, I’m gonna kill you!” another man, a lighter voice, screams as he jumps out of the other side.
They both run, tears streaming down their cheeks as they collide with their friend. Yunho stumbles against the wall. The tinier one holds him so tightly, placing kisses all over his face as he sobs. The taller one’s eyes are wide, wiping the blood from Yunho’s cheeks, bombarding him with questions.
Yunho holds you close against him, unforgotten, even as they don’t even notice you at first.
“Get in the car quickly,” the taller one urges, pushing the both of you gently toward the vehicle. “What’s your name, sweety?” he asks, voice low and comforting to your frozen ears.
“Y/n,” you say, voice trembling.
“I’m Seonghwa,” he says softly. “This is Wooyoung.” He asks you no questions, and you’re so grateful. You just want to be warm.
The car is so toasty, the seats a heater themselves as you sit in its sanctuary. You want to melt into them, hardly registering as Wooyoung buckles you in before quickly getting into the front seat. You close your eyes, sighing in relief. Finally, out of the cold, out of danger, with your puppy. Everything is alright.
“Yunho,” Seonghwa’s deep voice softly begins, “what happened?”
He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, taking a slow breath. “I woke up in a cell,” he says, and your heart aches. So they take everyone in their sleep. “They put a muzzle on me a-nd cuffed my hands.” He bites his lip. “And they gave me shots every day.”
“What the fuck?!” Wooyoung shouts, turning back in horror. “They fucking drugged you?! What were they for?! Who the fuck are they?!”
“I don’t know,” Yunho groans. “But my body feels so weird now.” You watch as he swallows hard. “I get aggressive and weirdly strong sometimes… How long was I gone?”
It’s silent for a long moment “About four months,” Seonghwa says. He grips the steering wheel hard, his knuckles growing white. “ATEEZ is on hiatus. Your disappearance became public after the first month.”
“ATEEZ…?” you mumble to yourself.
“It’s on the news daily. They haven’t closed the case,” Wooyoung says. “Though they’re close to. Fuck, I’m so glad you’re okay. We’ll go to the police and call everyone over.”
Yunho has such a relieved, happy smile on his face, lightening his features so nicely. He’s leaning his head on the seat, his hand gently touching yours as the car silently drives through the city streets.
“How did you and Y/n meet?” Seonghwa asks curiously.
“She was in the cell next to mine. We couldn’t talk or anything, but we, like, sang or.. hummed to each other… and stuff…” His voice trails off as he looks out the window with a deep blush trailing from the tip of his nose to his ears.
“Wow!” Wooyoung’s exasperated sound turns to a loud laugh. “You’re truly an idol, Jeong Yunho!”
You gasp, and his face turns deeper into the window. “You’re an idol?”
He nods.
You’re about to freak out, but Wooyoung changes the topic quickly.
“By the way, Y/n, what uh.. are you covered in? Like, what is all that?”
You look down at your bare arms and almost gag at the dried, sticky goo all over your skin. You forgot all about it.
“I wish I knew,” you mumble.
“Hyung, can you take us to the dorms first? So we can get clothes and showers please,” Yunho asks, and Seonghwa nods through the mirror, smiling sweetly.
“Should I call a manager?” Seonghwa asks as Yunho guides you through the apartment. “Does she need he-?”
“No,” he interrupts, and you all wince, pausing at the bite in the word. His expression is scrunched, stern, mean, but it softens quickly. “No, we’ll be okay, Hyung, thank you.”
“We’ll pick you up in the mor-!”
The door was closed before you could even register being dragged gently into a room. Yunho’s breath is a bit uneven. Is he feeling sick? Maybe overwhelmed? He’s looking around the room a bit frantically. Everything is nice and clean, you note. Maybe his friends… or members took care of the room while he was gone. Yunho brings you to his bed and sits you down with a reassuring smile, but it twitches softly.
“Yunho,” you mumble, and he pauses to gaze into your confused eyes. “Are you okay?”
He nods. “I’m okay,” he says softly. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
He starts to walk away, but you reach out and take hold of his fingers, and he stops. “Where are you going?” you ask, gazing shyly at him. He lets a giddy smile stretch his lips.
“I’m going to start the shower,” he says, and you hesitantly let go of him. “You can wash first, but wait here while I get it ready.”
“Will…” you swallow hard, staring down at your sticky hands with flushed cheeks. “Will you go with me?” His eyes are hooded, gazing at you as you tug at his shirt draped over you. “I need help getting it all off of me, and…” You lift the shirt just enough for the metal of the belt to peak out.
“Of course, I’ll go with you,” he breathes, staring at what you’ve exposed with a heavy breath. He gently tilts your chin, his thin eyes gazing at your plump lips as he runs his thumb over them gently. He bends down, his warm breath meeting yours. He presses a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away suddenly and bringing you to your feet. “Let’s get cleaned up.”
The water fills the bathroom with a soft steam, but he makes sure you feel it so it’s not too hot. You’ve never had a warm shower before. You’ve never showered with another person, let alone your favorite person. You already know it’ll be your new favorite thing.
Yunho strips behind you as you’re testing the water with your hand. You hear his clothes drop to the floor, but you don’t turn around, until his fingers are tugging lightly at the shirt on your shoulders.
“Do you want to keep this on for now, Y/n?” he asks, and you shiver at the low sound of his voice as he says your name. It’s sensual, weirdly erotic, even though it’s just your name. You shake your head. “You don’t have to take it off. We can clean you with it on.”
“No,” you mumble, turning around to face him. You keep your gaze high, watching his gentle eyes with flushed cheeks. His ears are red, the tips so bright. “You can take it off.” His eyes twitch as they lower to the top. They seem to be growing less big, less shy, and a little darker.
His fingers slip under the shirt, grazing your skin. It’s soft in some places, sticky in others. You can’t wait to feel him against you once you're clean and untarnished from that place. You want him to rewrite everything with his hands. Make you forget. Make you his own.
He slides them higher, and you slowly lift your arms with his subtle command. The shirt falls to the floor, and he groans softly as he gazes at your chest, your nipples erect from the sudden chill.
He guides you quickly into the shower, and the warm stream feels like heaven on your shivering skin. You’re covered in little bumps as you try to drown every inch of your body in its warmth. Yunho watches as you sigh under the water, loving how it slips from your hair to your shoulders to your hands. Every part of you is beautiful. He wants to feel every inch, every crevice. He just needs that fucking metal torn from your hips first. But he can be patient. If he breaks it now, he won’t be able to control himself.
So, as he joins you under the stream, he distracts his thoughts with your happy little smile, indulging himself with his own. You’re soaked, and he can’t help but gently push your dripping hair from your forehead, revealing your squinted, pretty eyes, big and shining just for him.
“It’s gonna feel so good once you’re all soft and fluffy,” he says. The goo from the tank is softening and melting in the water. You let Yunho scrub you softly, your hair first, making it smooth and clean, your arms next. He’s focused, cleaning every speck thoroughly until your skin is perfect. Your legs are next, from your thighs to your feet, he kisses softly as he cleans, and it sends little jolts of flutters to your stomach… and to your core. You keep your eyes locked on his hair as it rubs against your clean skin slowly with his careful motions. He turns you around, and your eyes meet the tiled wall. He gently moves your hair as he cleans your back. It feels so nice, therapeutic, and it’s making you relaxed, as if he could take care of you forever, and you would entrust yourself completely to him.
“Here, love,” he whispers, handing you the loofah. “Do you want to clean your front?”
You blush as you gaze down at your breasts. They would fit so nicely in his hands, the soft scratch of the loofah teasing your nipples. Your eyes grow wide as you quickly shake away your thoughts.
“Would you feel more comfortable?”
You could melt at the warmth of his heart. He’s the sweetest thing you’ll ever know.
“No,” you breathe, slowly taking his hand and guiding it to your chest. “I need your help here too,” you whisper.
A soft chuckle meets your ear, and you shiver as his arms wrap around you, pulling your back to his chest. “Is that right?” he hums, gently caressing your skin just under your breasts.
He runs the loofah over your nipples, and you bite your lip at the soft scratch. You watch as his thumb gently rubs the soap into your chest, squishing the flesh just barely, teasing both you and him as he watches every twitch of your body. He cleans your stomach, his fingers swiping lightly at the edge of the belt, and you whine.
“Does my princess need help here too?” he asks, and your heart flutters at the name. You nod, biting your lip hard as you watch his long fingers drape over your stomach. They cover you completely, and you practically whimper at the sight alone. “Hmm?” he hums, and you nod again. “Come on, Y/n,” he whispers, his fingers sliding between your breasts to your throat, just gently, just barely wrapping around you there. You tremble, not in fear, but in bliss. They’re hot and smooth against you, dangerous yet perfectly safe as he presses a soft kiss to your jaw. “What does my princess need?”
“Here,” you gasp, grasping the belt. It doesn’t budge, the lock clattering against you as you hold it tightly. “Please, I need it off. I need you h-here, Yunho…”
“Good girl,” he groans, his hand leaving your throat and grabbing the lock. With a single tug, it's gone, thrown onto the floor, and the belt follows. You feel something hot spill down your thighs, and you can’t tell if it’s the water or the desperate state he has you in, but it doesn’t matter as his fingers dip into your folds, and you melt into his chest, your body trembling as he runs his finger through your heat with a warm breath at your ear. “It’s messy down here,” he hums, his voice low, a soft growl against your skin. “Were you thinking naughty thoughts?”
You don’t even try to deny it, nodding as your hands travel up your body, grinding your heat against his hand.
“No,” he scolds, taking away all pressure against you as he places your hands at your sides. “We can’t make more of a mess, Y/n,” he warns quietly, caressing your inner thigh with his teasing fingers. You can’t handle all of his teasing, though. You’re biting your lip, your cheeks hot and heat clenching around nothing.
“Yunho,” you whimper, “sh-shouldn’t you also clean your body?” His hold slowly loosens on you, and you turn around, gazing at the small smear of blood on his cheek, the scratch on his neck, and the little scratches of red throughout his body. “I’ll help you.”
You go to take the loofah, but he drops it to the floor, eyes locked on yours. “Use your hands.”
His skin is already so soft, so perfect, as you rub the soap along his body, from his neck, behind his pink ears, to his shoulders, broad and higher than your eyes. He’s so big, even bigger now as you clean every inch of his skin. Your fingers pass over his chest, and he sighs. You feel his heartbeat, fast like yours, and… you swallow hard as your arm bumps against his hardness, moving quickly along, but he tilts his head, lifting a brow curiously.
“That’s not very thorough,” he says, and you avoid his gaze as you finish scrubbing his arms, working hard with two hands.
“Sh-should I help you?” you ask, finally bringing your eyes to meet his. His eyes are hooded, staring at your body as you work so close to him. “Yunho?” He hears you now, bringing his eyes to yours. Your hand slowly travels, soap bubbling along his skin as you gently wrap your fingers around him. He twitches in your hand, his eyes snapping to your touch. “Look how messy it is,” you breathe, your voice trembling as you watch precum bead at the tip. He’s so big, just like the rest of him, your fingers almost touching around its pretty base. You stroke it once, and he bites back a moan as he stops your hand quickly.
“Y-”
“You’re right,” you sigh, removing your hand. The water washes away the soap, and it twitches without your touch, painfully hard now that he had a taste of your touch. “I should be more thorough.”
You drop to your knees, and he lets out a low growl as he shakes his head. His hand grips your hair quickly, a light sensation as the stream runs down your back.
“Look at you,” he huffs, “so eager to please.”
“I’m just returning the favor,” you mumble, tilting your head as you take his cock in your hand, “puppy.”
The first fat lick from the base to the tip has him shivering. You think back on the things the guards would talk about in the hallway, learning as you go what feels good for him. You don’t tell him how you learned it all. He might get too jealous, but he seems to love the feeling of your tongue.
His brows lift as he bites his lip in pleasure. He leans his head against the wall as you put the tip against your lips, offering a soft kiss, gazing up at him to watch each time he loses his control and grips your hair a little tighter, rolls his eyes back slightly, his hips twitching as you slowly take him in your mouth. He’s so heavy on your tongue, but the feeling is so nice. It’s comforting, watching him breathe heavily as your warmth surrounds him.
“Princess,” he groans, gently caressing your cheek as he holds you there, halfway on his cock. “This look suits you,” he breathes, “on your knees, stuffed with my cock. Does it taste good, baby?” You hum, and his head falls forward with a low groan. “Make sure i-it’s clean.” He bites his lip, hardly able to speak as he lets you move again, and the soft, warm velvet of your mouth runs along his length perfectly. It’s tight, so fucking tight. He can’t take his eyes off of you as your eyes unfocus, blissed out by the feeling of his cock stuffing your perfect mouth. Your lips are puffy, so cute around him. He can hardly contain his hips as he lets you go at your teasingly slow pace. He wants to fuck your mouth hard, but he absolutely won’t. Fuck, but he wants to.
“Can you go faster for me, Y/n?” he mumbles, slowly guiding you down his length. You gag as the tip hits your throat, your warmth constricting around him. It’s uncomfortable, but you want to please him, want to feel him twitching in you, moaning as you pleasure him. “That’s it,” he breathes. “Good job, baby, deeper. Fuck~” He lets out a long moan, blessing your ears as you relax your throat and force your nose to his stomach. “Baby, what a good girl. Fuck… ngh… so g-ood..mm... Keep going… shit..”
You go faster, but his grip tightens on your hair, controlling your movement as he starts to meet your mouth halfway. He’s slowly fucking your mouth, suppressing the need to thrust deeper and deeper, pushing you along his cock with each thrust. His voice is getting louder, his thrusts sloppier. He stops.
“P-princess,” he breathes, slowly pulling you away by your hair. You suck lightly on his tip as he leaves your lips, and he curses softly, wanting nothing more than to keep you stuffed full. He stops moving as he sees his precum spread over your lips, reaching out and dragging his thumb across them to clean it up. “You keep making a mess,” he mumbles, bringing his thumb to his lips and licking it clean, gazing at you as you grow hotter at the sight.
“Why did you make me stop?” you whine, placing your hands on the ground to keep them from touching him again. “You feel so good in me,” you breathe, licking your lips as you stare eagerly at his dripping cock. “And taste s-”
“Get up,” he growls, and you’re quick to scramble to your feet. “I just want to feel good together,” he admits, pushing you against the wall and stopping the water. The room goes silent, leaving only your heavy pants to be heard. “Once I saw you,” he mumbles, “walk by my cell, all I’ve wanted to do was see you like this. I know it’s so bad of me, but I want to make you feel good. I want to feel good with you.”
“Me too,” you whimper. “I was so jealous when you felt good without me.” He smiles wide, looking away guiltily.
His hands gently part your legs, lifting one and bringing his hips close to yours. You feel his cock rub lightly against your folds, and you let out a shaky breath.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
You haven’t felt such a raw sensation before, his hardness rubbing against you. The slide is so lewd, sticky and loud, echoing throughout the bathroom. His hand holds his cock against your folds as he thrusts against you. It rubs against your clit, back and forth, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. You whimper, clutching his shoulders as he thrusts fast. His grunts are more like low growls with each thrust forward. It feels amazing, your voice hardly suppressed by the hard bite you have on your lip.
“You’re so wet,” he groans. “Making a mess when I just cleaned you up.” You whimper, rubbing your pussy against him hard as you feel the pleasure building. Your eyes are shaking, your lips leaving soft kisses against his shoulder, unsure of what else to do to distract yourself from losing your mind in pleasure. “Such a bad girl,” he growls, and you let out a soft sob as he pushes you hard against the wall, your head falling back. He kisses your chin as your head falls limp against the wall with a soft whimper leaving your lips. His teeth graze your skin, sinking down only lightly as his grunts grow to soft moans. He trails his kisses, sloppy and wet, to your neck. His hair tickles your skin, a soft contrast to the deep bite he marks into your neck.
“Fu-uck~!” you choke, your orgasm approaching fast. This isn’t right. No, no, it’s not enough. “Yunho, please,” you whimper as he kisses away the pain in your skin. “Please, fuck, please put it in.. ngh~”
He shakes his head. “Don’t say that,” he pants, biting his lip as he keeps his head buried in your neck. “Be good.”
“Please,” you sob, feeling frustrated tears build quickly. “I need you inside, Yunnie, please, fuck me~ I need it so bad.” He kisses your neck with soft growls leaving his lips with each slide against your pussy. “Please, ngh, please, puppy!”
“I d-don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he says softly, biting his lip as he grips your body tight to gain some control over his thoughts. “I’ll m-make love to you nice, but not r-right now. I’ll hurt you.”
Your mind flickers to the shots he talked about, how they make him feel. Tears fall from your eyes. They’re sad, frustrated, needy. You’re so overwhelmed. You need him to stuff you full. You need him to thrust hard and deep. Fuck, he’s so big. He’d rub so nicely against your walls. You want to feel him lose control. You know he won’t hurt you. Even if he does, you don’t care.
“Yunho, fuck me,” you pant, trying to steady your trembling voice. “I can take it. I just need it so bad. P-please, puppy, fuck me.”
He pulls his head away quickly, dropping your leg as he glares at you, his pupils blown, his eyes heavy and hooded. As he tilts his head you see the veins bulging through his skin, his grip on you trembling as he grits his teeth. “You want me to fuck you?” he asks, voice strained. You nod eagerly. “And you think you can take it?”
“Yes,” you whine, “I can take it. I promise, I’ll be good. Please~”
He grabs your arm, pulling you roughly out of the shower. You’re both dripping as he rushes to his bedroom, pushing you onto the bed. He climbs over you, glaring down at you as he spreads your legs wide, sitting between them. His cock is so fucking hard, twitching against your stomach, but he forces your eyes back on his with a rough hand on your chin.
“Every night I imagined what it would feel like deep inside you,” he growls, his hand pressing down on your stomach lightly. “What your face would look like, how your pussy would clench around me.” He scoffs. “You think that night was the only night?” Your eyes widen a little, a rush of slick wetting your folds as you listen to his every word. “Every. Fucking. Night.”
Fuck… You whimper, biting your lip hard at the thought.
“All I had was your voice, but now…” He licks his lips, looking from your twitching pussy to your flushed cheeks. He gently runs his thumb along your cheek. “You think you can take it?”
You nod quickly, but your mind is spinning so fucking fast. How dirty. Your puppy is so dirty… Making himself feel good, imagining you every night, while your hands were tied, and all you could do was imagine him, growing needy and desperate without any way to relieve yourself.
“Fuck me.”
He doesn’t move his cock, his fingers plunging deep into your core. You’re wide open, your pussy drooling for him. He groans, his lips twitching into a satisfied smile as he finally lines his cock up to your folds. Without warning, his eyes, so dark, so daring, locked with yours, he thrusts in. It only goes about halfway, but your back arches with a long, pathetic moan.
“That’s right,” he pants, pushing further. His hair is wavy and damp in front of his eyes, but they don't look away for a second. They’re desperate to see every little twitch of your features as you take his cock like a good fucking girl. “Is this what you want, Y/n? Can you take it?”
You nod, feeling hot tears stream down your face as he bottoms out.
“Hmm?” he hums, rolling his lips just slightly against your quivering hole. You sob, overwhelmed with pleasure as his pelvis grinds against your clit.
“Yes, yes, fuuuck, yes, Yunnie, please keep going!” you finally choke out, reaching for his neck and pulling him into a searing kiss. His hips stutter as he carefully starts to move. You suck on his tongue, drinking him as you move desperately against his lips, grinding your hips along with each hesitant thrust. “Faster,” you pant. “More, baby, come one.”
You pull hard on his hair as his hips slam against yours just once, forcing a moan from your lips. He groans into your mouth, loving your reaction. He moves faster, harder, thrusting into your heat until it's all he can feel. Your lips stop moving, just resting against each other as your eyes roll back, your vision blurry with how harshly your body is used by him. He grabs your hips and slams them against his thrusts, harder and faster, drowning in your moans and whines. He can’t get enough.
“Y/n,” he pants, kissing your cheek sloppily as he rolls his hips, rubbing hard against your clit with the new, slower angle. “Fuck, princess, bite me,” he whimpers. “Bite me.”
He presents you his neck, his moans muffled by the pillow. You’re too far gone to register his words for a while, deep in the drug that he’s feeding you with each delicious thrust. But your kisses to his neck come naturally, and his words register when you hear a pathetic whine from his lips. You graze your teeth against his skin, and his hips stutter, slowing before getting harder and faster, rough but without much rhythm.
You bite him hard, and he sobs into the pillow, grabbing your hips and digging his nails into your flesh. You’re loving every fucking sensation, his moans, right beside your blessed ears, his cock pistoning into you, his body draped over you, and his hands gripping your body like there’s nothing else he could ever dream of holding.
Your orgasm is approaching fast, and you can hardly grasp your mind, just drowning in Yunho. He lifts his head, his moans growing in pitch and volume.
“I’m so close,” he sobs, and you focus your eyes just enough to see his trembling lips, his flushed cheeks, and his eyes, streaming tears as he thrusts desperately.
It makes you cum instantly, your back arching as your walls clench around him hard, creaming on his cock without warning. Your eyes roll back hard, your vision turning white as he whimpers and sobs, releasing thick ropes of his cum deep inside. He rides out both of your highs, your moans and gasps harmonizing in the silent room. You force your eyes to stay open to watch his features blank out in complete bliss, cumming long and hard surrounded by your perfect, soaked pussy. His head falls forward as soon as he stops cumming, his cock twitching sensitively, keeping you stuffed full with his cum.
You hold his head to your neck as satisfied tears drip onto the pillow beneath you. His hair is almost dry by now, fluffy against your trembling fingers. He stays there for a long time, sniffling into your neck as you gently stroke his hair, something you’d wanted to do since seeing how pretty and fluffy it was in that cell.
He’s holding you so tight, his arms wrapped around you completely, his member still buried inside. He’s sobbing, and you close your eyes tight, holding him just as close, not saying a word until he can cry properly, like he deserves.
“You’re so warm,” he cries, and you smile against his head, a tear slipping down your own cheek. “How could they torture you for so long, and you’re still so warm? How could they do that to you?”
“You kept me warm,” you whisper, afraid your voice would break if it’s any louder. “You saved me in more ways than you think.”
He holds you closer, close enough to feel his heart beat, to have to affect your own, have them sink and calm and soothe together. He sighs against your neck, his breath shaky but tears slowing.
“I’ll keep you warm forever.”
“Seonghwa-Hyung will bring us to the police in the morning,” Yunho says as he checks his phone. You’re wearing his clothes, big and comfy, as you lounge on his blue, squishy bed. It feels just like him, fluffy and perfect for the shape of you. You could melt into it and sleep forever. You’ve never felt something so soft. Except for him, of course.
You look over to make him come snuggle with you, but he isn’t where your eyes left him. You frown. “Yunho?” He doesn’t answer. Maybe he went to the bathroom? Or maybe he went to talk with someone? You pout, laying back in bed. But something feels wrong. You sit up. “Yunho?” you call out again. Still no answer. You get up quickly and go to the door. Peaking out into the hallway, it’s dark and silent. No one’s there. This is freaky. Where could he have gone? You turn around, closing your eyes for a long moment. It’s okay. Maybe he went to get some water.
“Yunho?” you gasp, your eyes shooting open as you lunge forward. Your legs are wrapped tightly in a thick blanket, the room around you dark, quiet, cold, without him. He’s gone. He’s… The scent here is familiar. Something distant which you haven’t smelled in a long, long time.
The door creaks open, and a slither of light shines against the walls. “Y/n, baby, are you alright?” Mom. Her face is masked with gentle concern, but you can’t answer, staring in confusion, in silence. “Did you have a bad dream?” she asks, and you tilt your head. A bad dream?
“A dream…?” You gasp. What’s with your voice? You look around again. The walls are covered in posters, pink and purple and black and… colors surround you. The cell, so grey… the… what… the dream… What was it about? “I don’t remember,” you whisper.
“It’s okay, baby,” she coos, stepping into the room. Her dent on the bed makes you lean toward her, your head falling to her shoulder, that scent of her perfume, so familiar. “It was just a dream, whatever it was.”
You sigh, letting your body melt into her. Yeah, it was all just a dream. It just feels like you haven’t been in her arms forever.
For ten years, your life seems so… unfamiliar, as if every moment you spend growing… isn’t truly happening. Every spoken word echoes, every touch vibrates softly as if it isn’t supposed to happen, and you grow used to it, but you never shake that feeling that something is utterly wrong… something is missing. Or someone.
Because you dream almost every night the same dream, and you’ve never told anyone, but somehow, this dream feels more real than life ever does. It started that night when you were ten. And it never went away. You’re always brought back to the darkness. You don’t understand it. You can’t see, you can’t speak, but you’re anything but lonely. You have a friend.
He sings to you. Through this wall in the darkness. Who is he? Why is he here? Is he stuck in this dream, just like you? But you can never ask him.
“I’m telling you, it’s all real,” you whine, tugging on your friend’s sleeve as she types away at her computer.
“You’re crazy, Y/n,” she giggles. “Even if you’ve had the same dream for fifteen years, there’s no way it’s real. You're crazy.”
You roll your eyes. “I’m crazy? You’re fighting teenagers for a ticket, thinking an idol is gonna fall in love with you,” you laugh, but she eyes you with puckered lips, clearly offended.
“I could pull them,” she huffs.
“Uh huh.”
“Anyway, you’re coming with me,” she says, zoning back in on the computer.
You quirk a brow. “I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Please,” she scoffs. “I’m paying for your ticket. In return, you have to drive me there.”
“Whaaaat?” you groan, letting your head fall dramatically to her bed, melting into it with a deep frown. “How far away is it? Can’t you just drive yourself?”
“It’s, like, two hours away.”
“Whaaaat…”
“Stop complaining,” she grumbles. “You’ll get a free- fuck, shhhh, it’s starting. Be silent.”
You furrow your brows, burying your head into her pillow with a long, deep sigh. Whatever. It’s not like you have anything better to do.
You’ve heard of ATEEZ, but you’ve never actually ventured into their music. Standing outside the venue with a squirming, dolled-up bestie, you’re not really looking forward to it. She scored barricade seats, right up on these idols. It's going to be so embarrassing. You should have just agreed to drive her without getting a ticket. But… you’ll make the most of it and have fun with her.
To say you get a weird feeling when you walk inside, though, is an understatement. You get immediate chills, pausing in your tracks as you look around. Something isn’t right. Or it is. Whatever it is, it’s weird, and you want to get out of there. The show hasn’t even started.
Your seats truly are right up at the stage. You’d be able to see every detail of the performance from here… every drop of sweat, every twitch of a lip, every step in the dance.
“I’ll be back. Bathroom,” you whisper, getting up from your seat.
“Hurry…” she whines. “Soundcheck starts soon. I have to introduce you to my man.” You roll your eyes before walking slowly toward the ladies room. You’ll be back in time.
But the uneasy feeling from earlier is growing stronger, and it’s making you nauseous. You thought it would be a quick trip to the ladies’ room, but you’re bent in two, sitting on the toilet seat, fully clothed, sweating and panting as you try to catch your breath. What the fuck is going on? Your mind is spinning around and around, only stopping when it gives you a moment’s witness of that familiar darkness. You hear the crowd erupt. The group must be on stage. They must be singing, greeting the crowd. You hear them, but you can’t hear anything as your ears tune in on his voice in that darkness, his hums which were your only company as you dreamed each night. Why are you suddenly hearing him? He’s just from your fucking dream. You grab your ears, groaning as you try to focus on the crowd, on the singing.
There’s a knock on your stall door, and you open it hesitantly. Knowing by the little black Mary Janes that it’s your girl.
“Y/n,” she gasps, “Are you okay?” She kneels in front of you, gently stroking your cheek, and you can finally calm down, taking slow breaths. You realize the crowd is quiet, and the singing is over.
“Sorry,” you sigh, “I missed soundcheck. Had a huge-”
She playfully slaps your cheek, standing up with a groan. “Gross,” she giggles.
The uneasy feeling is gone for the next few hours as you relax and eat with her until the show starts. All is well, all is good. And you have a lot of fun in the end.
The lights dim, and the music starts, and you quickly regain that weird feeling. The members are wearing cloaks. You can’t see their faces, only watch as the cloth flows with their movement. It’s freaky. It’s cool. Even as they perform a few songs, you don’t see their features clearly until they begin their little solo dances. That’s when you really feel weird. Your heart is racing in anticipation. For what? Maybe you’re so invested into the show, but when three members dance around, collapsing at different sides of the stage, you’re met with big, wide, horrified eyes, and you realize exactly why.
Your knees grow weak, your pupils trembling. He’s staring right at you; he knows too. Everything returns to you. Every moment, every word, every touch.
You’re both frozen there, just a few feet away. His hand trembles as he reaches out… for you. He reaches out, maybe he can grasp you. Maybe he can touch you. Maybe he can hold you close because why were you suddenly taken from him? Why were you suddenly sent back, separated?
His arms are grabbed, and he’s pulled away, aggressively taken away from you. You shout his name, but it’s drowned by the crowd, by the music.
A tear slips down your cheek. How could you forget everything? How could you… You think back on the last fifteen years, how you awoke that morning, just a child again, oblivious, memory wiped, living knowing something wasn’t right, something was missing. And there it is. Yunho.
You sit down, bringing your head to your lap as tears fall from your eyes. Never have you betrayed yourself so horribly, betrayed him so unfairly. How could you leave him like that when you had promised him you would always return, that you would never leave him?
You don’t watch the rest of the show. You can’t lift your eyes from your lap. You can’t.
You remember everything.
“Y/n, it’s really okay if you’re not up to it,” she insists, rubbing your arms gently as you eye the crowd moving toward the last event. “You’re not feeling well.”
“No,” you mumble. “I need to go.”
She huffs a laugh. “Were you so entranced by their performance? Did they woo you?” She snickers as if she told a joke, but you don’t get it. Rolling her eyes, she urges you forward. “Let’s go get a good spot then.”
You’ve calmed down by now. You realize it wasn’t a dream at all. It was all real, and, by the look on his face, without a doubt, he remembers too. You need to see him again. Even if… now he wants nothing to do with you, you need to see him again.
You’re close to the front but hidden by other fans for the most part. They don’t come out for a while, and you’re a little nervous. You’re a lot nervous, playing with the fabric on your girl’s top. She doesn’t mind, too deep in her thoughts, probably delusional, romantic.
And then they come out. And your eyes search frantically for them, but there’s a lot of people blocking your view. It’s frustrating, but you have to be patient. The members go around and stop by your section, smiling, taking pictures, signing, talking. It’s cute, how they interact with their fans.
You recognize two of them. Seonghwa looks just like he did back then, or, maybe this is around the same time as back then. Wooyoung is snappy and loud, like each person he talks to is another close friend. You recognize them, know them. It’s weird… to see more of that dream appear in front of you.
And him. Yunho appears, looking anxiously around as he signs and talks and smiles. He’s not paying attention to any of it, but you can tell he is. You smile, finally able to see him through the small crowd. He’s just like you remember. As his eyes find yours again, they give you that look, like you’re the only thing they’ve ever been looking for, just like in his cell, in the auditorium, and on the stage.
He nearly stumbles as he comes closer, eyes never leaving yours. He doesn’t look scared like he did on the stage, and neither do you. There’s a deep understanding in your gazes now.
Your friend’s squealing beside you, shaking your arm as he stops just a few feet away. He looks around, head low. He knows there are cameras lining the crowd. All eyes are on him. He can’t say anything, and neither can you. You want to reach out, want to touch him, see if he’s real.
“Tiny~” He smiles wide, eyes squinting cutely, but you can see a soft layer of tears hiding there. “Do you want a selfie?” He points to your phone, held tightly in your hand. You hesitantly nod, and he motions you closer. The crowd parts a bit, and you can walk forward. He takes your phone, his fingers grazing yours, and you could melt at how warm he is, how soft he is. You can smell him as he motions you closer and closer. His cheek bumps gently against yours as he holds the camera up. “Smile, Y/n,” he whispers, and your cheeks tint a deep pink as you see yourself in the camera, listen to his words, hear your name, and feel him around you. His hand curls at your opposite cheek, like a heart, and your face completes it.
He takes at least four pictures, all the same, but he stays there for so long, he doesn’t want to leave. As he pulls away, so slowly, and he hands you your phone, you feel a piece of paper slip into your palm. His eyes stay gazing into yours for only a moment longer before the manager beside him urges him to move on, and he’s pulled away.
You don’t look down at the paper. You don’t make it known. Not even to your friend, who’s tugging on your sleeve and fangirling over the whole thing, practically begging to see the photos. You carefully put the paper in your pocket with a hidden, shy smile.
“Stay. I arranged a driver for your friend.” How do you explain something like that to her?
But before you can even go to tell her, she’s nowhere to be seen. Your phone vibrates and lights up with a message from her.
“I’m gonna stay in town for the night. I want to try out the cat cafe!!! You can head back alone.”
You stare at the message for a long moment. How convenient.
You’re interrupted by a clearing of someone’s throat. Startled, you lock eyes with one of the managers and nearly squeak an apology. This is so embarrassing. How do you explain that Yunho is…
“Come with me,” he says quietly, and you eye him skeptically. “Yunho is backstage.”
He starts to walk, and your shoulders lose some tension without his glare. It’s replaced with a growing excitement. You bite your lip as you’re guided to the back. It’s busy, and you feel so strange, like you’re not supposed to be here, but you know soon, you can finally see him again. For real, alone, where you can finally talk, and touch, and see, and everything constantly stripped from you.
You sigh as he comes into your sight. The door closes behind you, the room silent except for his quick footsteps. Your back hits the door as he pushes his body against you, his lips on yours instantly. You whimper, feeling his fingers run through your hair, stroking you with pure love and relief. His lips are soft but urgent as they move against yours, he breathes your name between fast kisses, and your eyes roll shut, falling deep into the feeling of him.
“What happened?” he pants against your lips, gazing into your eyes, forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. “Where did you go?” His voice breaks, and it squeezes at your heart as your lips tremble into a frown. “Why does no one remember?” he asks, gently caressing your cheek as he holds you just a little closer. “Why were you gone?”
But he kisses you again, lifting your chin to keep your lips on his. He’s panting against you, his hands sliding down your neck as he feels your delicate body, your soft skin, your light shivers. They rest on your waist, gentle yet big against you, his fingers sliding just slightly under your top.
“Please,” he mumbles. “Don’t leave me again.” His jaw clenches as he stares into your eyes, his words growing darker as he becomes used to you back in his arms. “Come home with me.”
Yunho’s room is warmer than you remember. Or maybe your desperate breaths as he pins you against the wall are filling the room with a desperate heat quickly. You can tell he’s exhausted from the concert mentally and physically, but he needs to be close to you right now.
You walk him to the bed and lay him down. He doesn’t object much, trusting you with himself completely. You climb onto his lap and lean against his chest. He sighs with the warm weight of you, letting you stay there for a long moment.
“I dreamed about you,” you whisper, working on the strings of his pants lazily. “Every night.”
“Me too,” he sighs. “I dreamed about the cell, but I thought I was going crazy.”
You giggle. “Me too.”
You pull down his sweatpants, leaving him in his briefs. Then, you strip off your own pants. You work on his shirt next. He lets you do as you please, nodding off but keeping his eyes wide just to keep you in his sight.
“Do you remember everything?” you ask, glancing away as you’re met with his bare chest. You slip off your own shirt, and he looks away too, his ears growing red, just like you remember.
“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Except… I don’t remember what happened after I found you in the tank… until we were outside and safe,” he says.
Your eyes grow wide a little. “Really?” you mumble, and he nods.
“How did we get out?” he asks, and you avoid his curious gaze.
“You broke me out… and we ran away,” you say, which is mostly the truth. He accepts it, smiling as he thinks back at the look on your face as you finally saw the sky for the first time in years.
You plop down beside him, and he curls into you as you pull the covers over you both.
“How do we know something like that won’t happen again?” he asks, bringing you close to his chest.
You’re silent for a moment. “Even if it does, we’ll find each other no matter what. Even when I couldn’t remember… I knew you were missing. I can’t live without you,” you say, gazing at him as he smiles.
“Even so, let’s promise,” he whispers, digging out his hand from the covers to hold out his pinky. “Promise that we’ll never disappear again.”
You grin, latching your pinky with his, giggling together as you snuggle close and fall asleep.
For years, you stay by each other’s side. You move into an apartment and change jobs to live in Seoul. You never speak to your mother again. You love your life by his side, perfect and sweet, even if his fans are a bit crazy about your relationship. You don’t mind. Everything is perfect.
Best of all, you keep your promise to each other… for six years.
You don’t feel uneasy… nor warned… nor any different that night as you go to sleep in his arms.
And suddenly you can’t move. You can’t speak. You can’t hear.
Your vision is foggy, your limbs bound in place, floating in a thick fluid. The tank.
Oh, fuck, the tank.
The glass is clear, built around you. It was never shattered. You were never saved.
The room is silent. The audience… they’re bones. Bones, melting into the seats. They’re gone, dead. For years, they've been dead. For decades, maybe, and you’ve been here. It was all a lie. You’ve been here. You…
You hear a faint cry. It’s distant, a truly saddening cry… of a child.
Your heart sinks. It slows amidst the sudden chaos of your mind. How long have you been here in this tank? How many… children… have you had? That is… the true use of the tank.
Your eyes can hardly move, and it hurts so bad, but you need to look toward the sobs. There’s more. More cries, more children.
But you don’t see them when your eyes finally move to your left. Instead you see another tank. Floating, much like you, is Yunho. Your eyes meet, and your heart stops.
You were never free. You were never free. You were never free.
You were here the whole time, with him, locked in this tank, forced to reproduce. You were never free. And now even your dreams are gone. You have to stay and watch as you live… like this… for how long? How long will it be until you die? Because you just want to die right now. Before you forget everything… You want to die when you can see his eyes and remember it all.
You want to die. You want to fucking die.
What’s the point? You can’t even kill yourself. You want to die. What’s the fucking point?! What’s the point?! What’s the point?! Die! Why can’t you just die! They can’t give you something and take it away again! And again! They’re fucking with you! They can’t take him away from you again! You'd rather just die! Die! Qhy can’t you just kill yourself?! No fucking way you’re going to live if you can’t have him! You’ll just fucking die!
Tears are streaming from your eyes… Warm arms are wrapped around you as you sob. Your fists clench his shirt, nails digging into his skin. You feel his hitching breath against your nose, his tears wetting your lashes and mixing with your own.
“No,” he sobs, curling into you as he opens his eyes. “No, it’s okay.” His breath is trembling, unsure, but you nod anyway. Fuck, you were so scared. You were so scared. “It’s not real,” he whispers, his lips quivering as his hands grip your body so tight.
“It’s not real,” you repeat, and he nods quickly. “W-we promised we wouldn’t disappear again,” you whisper, and he nods again. “S-so it can’t be real. It’s okay.”
Your ears are ringing, heart pounding, but it’s all soothing as you hold him close. If you hold him close enough this time, maybe he won’t disappear. You whisper again and again to each other nonsense, comforting nonsense, just to stay awake as tears softly dampen the pillow beneath your heads. Just to survive the night, you won’t fall asleep, won’t let his eyes leave yours.
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