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.°•౨ৎPretty Puppy [NSFW] ᥫ᭡.‧₊˚ ⋅

Intro | Seungmin (you are here!) | Chan

Written by: @live-laugh-bangchan

Summary: Seungmin tries not to think about his conversation with Chan. Really, he does! Mostly because he’s embarrassed - who brings up a porn video in front of their hyung?? - but also because a little part of him is curious. The more he thinks about it, the more he tells himself that it’s because he wants to try it with you. He can see it now, how pretty you would look with floppy dog ears on your head and a cute little tail plug in your ass. But when the things arrive, Seungmin can’t help but try it on first. He has to safety test it first, make sure he only got the best products for his baby.

…shame that you just happened to get home early that day to surprise your boyfriend on his day off. Shame that you just happened to walk in on him, fingers deep in himself and a pair of floppy brown ears atop his head. Shame that you just had to play with your new, embarrassed puppy until he cries.

Warnings: sub!seungmin, dom!reader, pet play (ears, collar, tail plug), pillow humping, mentioned oral fixation (seungmin), masturbation (seungmin), watching porn (seungmin), penetration (seungmin! and reader!receiving), little bit of a breeding kink, swearing

w.c.: 13.1K (yikes!)

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This was an absolute delight to write. Puppy Seungmin will always do something chemically to my brain <3 Especially embarrassed puppy Seungmin!!!! There's something about a pretty boy being nervous to sub that does makes my brain sooooo happy (Seungmin and Minho especially). I really hope you guys like my part of this series!

Make sure to check out @gnabieprotector's part for Chan as well!!!! It's so, so yummy <3 It's linked at the top of this fic and at the end. Thank you guys for supporting us with this!!!

Seungmin wakes up the morning after with a splitting headache and a sense of regret that he can’t seem to place just yet. His mouth tastes like morning breath and alcohol, his hair feels like it’s in a million directions, and the pounding of his head only worsens as he tries to lift himself up. He flops back down helplessly, letting out a little grumble when he realizes the floor is cold. He supposes he probably should get up, but part of his brain registers that he doesn’t have anything on his schedule until late afternoon, so he lets himself lay there like a ragdoll on the floor for a little longer.

He blinks his bleary eyes open again not even a moment later, his stomach suddenly deciding to grumble loudly, and he groans again. Of course he’s hungry right now, right when the floor was just starting to feel comfy enough to drag him back to sleep. He huffs, the headache pounds at the inside of his skull again, and the world spins as he struggles to get himself into a sitting position against the couch behind him.

He realizes with sudden clarity that this is not his and Felix’s dorm. He squints at the entertainment stand in front of him, too organized and a little too boring to be his.

“Finally awake?” A gentle voice calls from the left, and Seungmin’s head lolls as he looks over to find Chan peering at him from the kitchen, “I made breakfast. Figured your head was killing you, I’ve got your hangover coffee brewing.”

Seungmin gets a flash of a memory for a moment, of sitting down with Chan for drinks in his dorm, and then stars flash behind his eyelids and he doesn’t get the luxury of thinking anymore. He just wheezes out another groan, and Chan sighs.

“C’mon, you big baby, you did this to yourself,” Chan says, and Seungmin hears his feet thud thud thudding closer, “Up we go.”

Seungmin makes a weak sound of protest in the back of his throat, but Chan ignores him, lifting him off the ground like he weighs nothing and carrying him into the kitchen. The kitchen light is too bright too much and Seungmin whimpers, burying his face in Chan’s neck to hide from the way it scrapes against his eyes. If he was in a better headspace he’d be embarrassed, but right now Chan is warm and his head is throbbing, so Seungmin lets himself give in to some of his instincts.

He makes an unhappy noise when Chan puts him down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, deprived of both warmth and the shoulder that was protecting his eyes from the light, but Chan just ruffles his hair and pulls away from him easily. Seungmin pouts at his back, watching as Chan carefully pours a cup of coffee for him and brings it over. His smile at Seungmin’s pouty face is almost more blinding than the light that he was hiding from before, and Seungmin has to squint to even look at him.

Chan doesn’t say a word, just slides the mug over to him and putters back off to the kitchen. He looks far too awake and alert for a guy that was also drunk last night, and Seungmin would be jealous if he had the capacity to maintain any feeling other than pain and sleepy right now. He lets his head fall to the table, hoping the dull ache from hitting his head on the wood might snap some sense into him (it doesn’t). He thinks he’s starting to drift off again to the smell of coffee and something sweet when Chan nudges his shoulder gently.

“Dude. Drink your coffee, we have lines to record later,” He reprimands, though it’s said with so much fondness it hardly lands, “Plus, I made pancakes. Please eat while they’re still warm.”

Seungmin grumbles unintelligibly but still complies. Chan settles in across from him and scrolls on his phone while he eats, glancing up at Seungmin every so often, like he’s checking in on him. It takes about half the cup of coffee for Seungmin’s head to de-fog, and the wave of embarrassment punches him in the face the second he has enough clarity to remember himself.

“...thanks for taking care of me, hyung.” He murmurs quietly, just loud enough for Chan to hear.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you~” Chan sings, cooing when Seungmin’s ears go red and he glares at him.

“Never mind! I’m never saying anything nice to you ever again,” Seungmin says, stabbing his pancake a little too hard, “You heard me just fine.”

Chan grins, and reaches across the table to try to ruffle his hair again. This time, Seungmin’s awake enough to smack his hand away and give him a deadpan glare, which just makes Chan’s snort, nose crinkling and eyes disappearing into half-crescents. He leans his chin on his hand instead as he stares Seungmin down, still smiling.

“You’re so cute, Seungmo!” He coos, giggling when Seungmin’s face scrunches in displeasure, “Aegyo, look at you! You’re getting all red, my blushy little dongsaeng~”

“Shut up, hyung,” Seungmin huffs, “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Than take care of my dongsaeng? Never,” Chan says, with such sincerity that Seungmin finds it hard to keep playing like he doesn’t like Chan’s attention, “Seungmin’s much more important than whatever else I need to do.”

That’s just code for “I already did all the work I could physically do”, because Seungmin knows for a fact that Chan prioritizes work over just about everything. Still, the sentiment is nice, so he just rolls his eyes, avoiding Chan’s eyes.

“Thank you, hyung,” he says, as sincerely as he can grit out, “You do too much for us.”

Chan makes a pleased little sound, and Seungmin looks over long enough to catch him smiling at Seungmin with that same, annoying fondness that he heard in his voice earlier. Seungmin rolls his eyes again, and they finish breakfast in a comfortable silence.

Chan reminds him to be on time to the studio later as he sees him out (as if Seungmin has ever been late), and Seungmin takes the short walk back to his own dorm, head no longer pounding and legs only a little uncoordinated. Thank god for Channie hyung, he muses, and notes that he should probably thank him properly later. Not with words - god forbid Seungmin uses his words - but with something else. The stupid dinky keychain Chan had been looking at on his phone the other day ends up getting ordered, despite how “dumb” Seungmin had told him it looked, and he thinks he’ll grab some of the snacks that Chan likes from the convenience store before he drops into the studio.

He opens Google to look up the convenience store’s hours (he can’t imagine they aren’t open in the middle of the day, but Seungmin likes to be sure) and that’s when he sees it.

Why the hell is Pornhub open on my phone? He thinks, blinking down at his phone like it’s cursed. It must be, because he watches in rapt horror as a guy in what seems to be dog ears humps against someone’s foot. No one’s in the dorm but him, but Seungmin still scrambles to click his phone off, embarrassment heating his face. He misses, though, fingers slippery in their desperation, and instead the volume clicks up up up, and he can hear the voices of the two people on screen.

“Such a dirty boy, humping my shoe like a dog.”

Seungmin shivers, the condescending tone of the person above the boy on screen making his stomach do a weird flip. The boy with the ears on whimpers, tongue lolling out and eyes rolling back as his hips kick up, and Seungmin watches with wide eyes as he begs to come. Slurred pleas and little “mong mong”s slip out of his mouth, and the person above him reaches down to loop two fingers into the thick collar he’s wearing, giving it one solid tug.

“Come.”

Seungmin doesn’t realize the whine that he heard didn’t come from the screen until he snaps back into himself and turns the volume back down, shutting his phone off in a hurry. The sound of his own noise hovers in the air, but he tries to ignore it. He catches his reflection in the black of his phone screen, mouth parted in a little ‘o’ and cheeks flushed scarlet, and he drops his phone, not wanting to see himself any longer.

Everything from last night comes back in a flash, from the way that Chan bristled when he passed him the phone to the way that heat curled up his spine when Chan had called him a mutt. He groans to himself, sound echoing off the too empty walls of the dorm. He knows he gets a little…risque, when he’s drunk, but he figured he had it together enough to not go and show Chan porn on his phone! The petplay stuff had only been on his mind because he had found a pair of cat ears in Jisung’s room the other day when he had asked to borrow a charger. Jisung had told him that he could just go grab one, so Seungmin had gone digging in the drawer that Jisung said it would be in, only to find a sleek pair of cat ears in there, right next to the cord he needed. He had half the mind to grab them and wear them out, make some joke about how he couldn’t find the charger but had found something far more interesting, but then he thought about the blackmail they would have if they got a picture of him in those things, and let them be.

Doesn’t mean he let it go, though. No, the second he made it into the living room where Jisung and Minho were perched, he opened his dumb mouth, ready to make a little fun of them.

“So which one of you is the Discord kitten?” He says bluntly, not even looking over at the two of them as he goes to plug his phone into the wall.

“What?” Jisung says, and he hears Minho sputter on his water.

“You heard me,” Seungmin says absentmindedly, huffing when he tries to insert the USB end in the wrong way, still not looking back, “Which one of you is the kitten?”

He had expected some sort of silly joke, assuming that the cat ears were just a gag gift or left over from a fan sign, but the sharp silence dragged out a little too long, and Seungmin tilted his head to look at the two of them lazily.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he said, eyebrows furrowing, “It’s not my fault you put the cat ears right next to the phone charger.”

Minho hisses something into Jisung’s ear quietly, too quiet for Seungmin to catch, but he watches the way that Minho’s ears go bright red and his grip on Jisung’s hand tightens dramatically. Minho looks like he wants to bury himself in a hole and disappear forever, and Seungmin doesn’t quite understand-

“Geez, you go around asking about everybody’s sex life like that, Seungmin-ah?” Jisung says sheepishly, yelping when Minho jabs at him, “What? No point in denying it now.”

Oh.

“...what?” Seungmin responds, bewildered. “I just- I assumed they were a joke thing-”

“It’s called pet play, my dear dongsaeng,” Jisung says, suddenly confident now that Seungmin’s turning red, too, “So basically, Minho puts on the ears and a collar and sometimes even a tail-oooww!”

Minho slaps a hand over Jisung’s mouth and digs his fingers into his side, cheeks on fire and looking anywhere but Seungmin. Not that Seungmin would know, because the spot behind Jisung’s head is suddenly very interesting, and he can’t seem to look at either of them.

“I’m barely younger than you, don’t call me dongsaeng,” he huffs, putting himself on the furthest end of the couch from the duo, “I didn’t know it was a sex thing. Please don’t tell me about your sexcapades, because, for the last time, I do not want to know.”

Minho had cut the conversation off there (before Jisung blabbed any more about their sex life, thank god), and Seungmin had pretended not to think about it for a few days. Unfortunately, his natural curiosity got the better of him, and the night before he and Chan had gotten drunk together, he had been browsing the internet. For research purposes, obviously, because Seungmin didn’t like that he didn’t actually know what the hell Jisung had been talking about. He had made it seem like such common knowledge that Seungmin had felt a little dumb, and if there’s anything that Seungmin hates, well, it’s feeling dumb, so he had to go digging for answers himself. He sure as hell wasn’t going to ask Jisung, because it gives Jisung the satisfaction of knowing something he doesn’t, and it also means that Seungmin’s going to learn way more about his and Minho’s sex life than he would ever want to know. He pictures Minho in the cat ears again for a breath and throws up a little in his mouth.

Which is why it had been a little fresh on his mind, he supposes, and why he had even remembered it enough to drunkenly bring it up to Chan last night. He groans again, and thinks that he has to get Chan even more snacks now, because he deserves a thank you and an apology. Seungmin vows to act like he completely forgot that they ever had that conversation, and he just prays that Chan’s in the same boat. He’s in luck, because when he gets to the studio, Chan doesn’t act like anything’s wrong, so far in leader mode that he’s trying to refuse Seungmin’s snack offering because they “aren’t good before singing, Seungminnie!” Seungmin huffs, but the tension in his shoulder dissipates, and he tries not to ever think about the stupid porn video he showed Chan ever again.

It’s a few days later when his brain decides to bring it back into his mind. Mostly because it’s been plaguing his dreams, and you’ve been picking up on his weird energy.

“What’s bothering you? You’re a little space-y, lately.” You had asked him earnestly over dinner the other night, and Seungmin had acted unsure, so you dropped it.

…but then he had another wet dream that following night, and he thinks he knows that, certainly, that must be the problem.

Seungmin’s not the type to have that kind of dream in the first place - he has a partner who has sex with him on the regular, and his brain doesn’t have to get that kind of desperate anymore - so it throws him off kilter. He can never remember what the dreams were about either, just can feel the aftermath of sticky underwear and hear the soft curl of your voice, taunting him from his dreams. He wakes up one morning and his neck feels empty, and he scratches at it until he’s awake enough to snap himself out of it. Another night, he wakes up with his own fingers pressed into his mouth, dried spit coating his hand, arm, and pillow. It’s gross, and he takes an extra long shower after he drags himself out of bed (much to Felix’s chagrin, who whines about the hot water being lukewarm later). The third night he wakes up with his pillow between his legs, fingers desperately curled into it to pull it closer.

The stupid video he showed Chan continues to haunt him, and Seungmin comes to the conclusion that maybe his subconscious is trying to get him to spice things up in the bedroom a little bit. You’re by no means completely vanilla in the sex you have with Seungmin, but something like petplay was out of the range of the things you’ve done. Seungmin wonders if the two of you are vanilla, considering that Seungmin didn’t even know what petplay was until Jisung brought it up. Though he gets the feeling that anyone is vanilla compared to Han Jisung, so he pushes that thought away.

He only lasts one more day before he’s nervously looking up “petplay” again. He did a full sweep of the dorm first, making sure Felix was 1000% not home right now, and then locks his bedroom door and slips his headphones on. One incognito tab later, he’s looking at the same boy he had been that night. He finds that it’s a different video from the same creator, but it evokes the same response in him - a deep, curling heat settles in his stomach, his head feels fuzzy, and his cock leaks in interest. Seungmin doesn’t even realize he’s pressing his palm into the outline of his cock and grinding up until the video autoplays to a different one, and he feels the stickiness of his own precum on his hand.

There’s a sense of shame that hangs over his head as he keeps exploring, and he wonders if it’s because he’s exploring this without you. Surely that must be it, but this sort of thing can’t just be sprung on you. Seungmin needs to do the proper research, figure out all the nooks and crannies of the kink before he even considers bringing you into it with him. He would never want to hurt you, after all, so that’s why the “one night” exploration turns into a nightly ritual. Doors locked, headphones on, incognito tab pulled up to his favorite creator - a different guy than the one he showed Chan, mostly because he’s more vocal than the first guy - and Seungmin’s grinding up into his palm again, watching with rapt eyes as the boy on screen gets treated like a stupid dog.

He imagines you in that position, at his feet. He imagines you with cute little dog ears on that match your hair, a collar that has his name engraved on the back, a little plug stretching you open, a short tail connected to it. It’s not as satisfying as watching the guy in the videos, but Seungmin chalks that up to his poor imagination and the fact that it would feel so much better to do it to you in person.

One of the nights Seungmin brings his laptop to his bed, sick of jerking off in his desk chair like a total loser. He’s not really sure he can even call it “jerking off” anymore, not with the way he’s painting the inside of his boxers white just from humping into his own palm, but he tries not to think about it. I’m just playing into the dynamic of the videos, he reasons with himself, nothing wrong with that. It’s not like he’s actually interested in being the one at your feet. He’s sure he would want it to be the other way around.

He’s snapped back into reality when a sharp moan rings out in his ears, and the puppy boy on screen is fucking into a soft, stuffed rabbit. Seungmin’s breath catches, and he’s swarmed with how good it must feels, to fuck your cock against something so nice and soft. Something so innocent getting all tarnished with your precum, until you stain it white with your release like a mutt.

He’s panting without realizing it, body shifting to mimic the boy on the screen. But he has no plush rabbit to fuck, and he rolls his hips into the air with a soft whine, cock straining and red already just from watchin the boy on screen hump his stuffed bunny. His hips follow the motions, but it’s not enough, and his fingers are fumbling around the bed, frantic, eyes unable to look anywhere but the screen. The person off-screen laughs, high and tinkling, as the boy can’t seem to keep a steady rhythm.

“Puppy’s so desperate that he can’t even get himself off? Do I really need to help you with everything, you dumb mutt?”

Seungmin slips a pillow under him and whines along with the boy on screen, the friction finally enough, and his hips start to hump at their own rhythm. It’s almost uncontrollable how he humps them against the soft fabric of the pillow case, hips uncoordinated and frantic, heat curling in his abdomen as the person off-screen steps into frame, arms curling around the desperate boy and helping him guide his hips.

“That feel better, pup? Just needed someone to help you, hmm? So dumb puppy, there we go…”

Their voice trails off as they take control of the boy’s pace, nipping gently at a sensitive spot below his ear just to make him squirm. Seungmin squirms along with him, and he can feel the ghost of your breath on his neck, can feel your fingers digging into his hips, and hear your voice in his ears, and-

“Come.”

He knows, logically, that it’s the person on the other side of the screen saying it, but his mind is muddled, filled with cotton and puppy thoughts like hump and mate, and he swears that it’s your voice ringing in his ears, telling him to come. He pants, hips unable to stop even after the burn of overstimulation sinks in, because he hasn’t been told to stop. His face feels wet, tears streaking down his cheeks and mixing with the drool sneaking out of the corner of his mouth, but he’s too floaty to feel anything other than pleasure.

He doesn’t know how many times he comes that night, but he knows it’s a lot, because his underwear and the pillow underneath him are stained with his cum, and he wrinkles his nose when the pillowcase all of crunches when he becomes conscious enough to shift off of it. He immediately strips it and tosses all of cum-stained nonsense into his hamper, praying that there’s never a world where his room goes under black light any time soon.

There’s that flare of shame again, swirling in the pits of his stomach, but he once again presses it down, deadset on ignoring it until it disappears. He’s done his research now, really, and he’s probably over-qualified at this point in regards to puppy play. He tried to watch a kitty play video once, but he remembers the ears at Minho and Jisung’s dorm, remembers how he imagined Minho would look in them, and gets sick to his stomach all over again. So he sticks to the puppy play stuff, telling himself every time when the post-nut clarity starts to set in that it’s just because he wants to try it with you.

He likes to think that his recent…escapades aren’t affecting his performance in the bedroom with you. In the beginning, they really aren’t, because he’s only breached the surface of his curiosity. It’s just a thing that his pervert hyung and his equally perverted other hyung are into, and he wants to see what the hype is about.

But the further he descends into it, when the nightly ritual becomes a necessary part of his bedtime routine, the more you’re picking up on some sort of shift. And it’s really subtle, at first. Seungmin had always been a dominant force with you in the bedroom, but he’d openly expressed on multiple occasions that one of his favorite things you did in the bedroom was fight back.

“I like a brat,” he had told you once, grinning when your cheeks flushed, “It makes it so much more fun to break them.”

Sometimes, he does need total control, and you get that - when things feel completely out of control, it’s nice to have control of one thing, even if it’s only for the night. But most nights, he wants that fight, wants to watch that spark in your eye dim to a glassy haze as your thoughts get muddled and your mind turns to mush under his harsh fingers. He’s not a gentle lover, and you love it, love the way that you can fight tooth and nail and still end up pressed into the sheets, pleading with him for more.

So, naturally, any shift in this dynamic would be noticeable to you. You notice right away when Seungmin gets a little…worse at controlling your bratting. You don’t necessarily think he’s bad at it, per se, but it takes him longer to reel you in, and sometimes, when you use your body weight to roll the two of you over and pin him to the bed, his eyes get a little glassy, his breath a little shorter. Before, he’d give you that lazy grin and make you grind against him, nice and slow, hands on your hips to guide your pace, and laugh as you cried for more. He’d watch you through hooded eyes, buck his hips up to meet you every once and a while just to tease, and keep your hips in that bruising grip of his. His lithe frame makes him look weak, but the years of dancing have treated him well, and he’s got the kind of subtle muscle that makes it hard to fight back against him.

But recently, that muscle doesn’t come out to play as often. When you flip the two of you, he lets you have your way for a little too long, fingers loose around your hips as you grind at your own pace, chasing a peak that you’re hoping he won’t let you hit, because you want to come around his cock, not in your underwear. He lets you fight his hands to the side of his head with a hitched breath, your fingers digging into his wrists as you hump against him.

Seungmin had hinted at being a little bit of a switch very early on into your relationship and hadn’t brought it up since, so you had assumed the dynamic you had was where he wanted to be, but his recent behaviour makes you think otherwise. You don’t mind the shift - it makes your playful fighting feel more even, and it makes him a little meaner once he does decide to be dominant - but it’s never been addressed, and it’s confusing you a little bit.

You think the strangest part is that he doesn’t seem to notice it right away. It’s as if he’s a little less present in those moments where he slips up, and they’re purged from his mind by the time that the two of you are done with your fun for the night. He’s the same old Seungmin before and after those moments, as if the little hints of something aren’t slipping through the cracks. He’s hard to read, but you like to think that you’re getting good at it, and you really do think that he doesn’t notice the way your dynamic is shifting.

Or, if he does, he’s doing a very, very good job at hiding it. There’s no telltale signs of typical Seungmin shenanigans - no slight smirks, no tilts of the head, no ears turning red, no anything that would indicate that Seungmin himself is aware of the shift.

Seungmin only thinks you’re catching on to his newfound fascination when he catches you watching an edit of him on the couch. He slots his head next to yours from over the back of the couch, grinning when you jump and try to angle your phone away.

“What’re you watchin’?” he asks, “Edits of your handsome, sexy boyfriend?”

“Edits of my cute boyfriend,” you counter, already sick of his nonsense, “Look at this one. They’re comparing you to a puppy here!”

You play the video for him, cooing when they show old fan meet videos of him in Pochacco hoods or with dog ears on. Seungmin’s not really watching, not when there’s static filling his ears, his mind grabbing on to the way you said puppy so easily. He inherently knows you aren’t calling him that, but it still makes something he can’t place swirl in his stomach. He wonders how it would feel rolling off of his tongue, if it would sound as pretty as when you say it, as intoxicating as the way the word sounds when your mouth’s the one forming the shape.

“Puppy Seungminnie is so cute,” you coo, “We should get you one of these cute hoodies for home!”

“A-absolutely not.” He retorts, but even he can hear the way his voice falters, the way it sounds almost frail right now.

“Why nooooot?” You whine, tilting your head to look at him, and then grinning.

You reach a finger up to poke at his cheeks, amused, and he puffs them out at you just to see you grin even bigger. You squish his cheeks between your thumb and forefinger in response, gently shaking his head.

“Aw, are you embarrassed?” You say, giggling, not noticing the way that Seungmin’s cheeks are heating up under your fingers.

“‘m not,” he mumbles, though it comes out muffled from the way you’re squishing his face, “Let me go.”

You release him with a sigh, stretching languidly off the couch, “Shame you won’t get one. I want to have puppy Seungmin at home, too, not just at fan meets I can’t attend.”

“Stop calling me that.” He says, nose crinkling, ears red, and you drop it.

That very night, when Seungmin’s performing his now-daily ritual of humping his pillow until his brain’s melting out of his ears, he finds himself scrolling through an online store. He’d been doing a little research on the side, on safe websites to buy the sort of gear he’s interested in, and the website he’s on right now is probably the top recommended one. He finds a pair of nice, floppy ears that come as a set with a tail plug, the reviews all affirming how soft the fur is, and he must still be hazy in the afterglow, because he’s adding it to his cart without a second thought. The color isn’t really your hair color - if he looked long enough, he’d realize just how close to his current hair it is - but he likes the look of it, and the plug seems to be right in that middle ground between too small and too big, so Seungmin thinks it’s a good one to start with.

He places the order before he can second guess it, and then, before he can use the rational part of his brain to stop himself, he opens another tab. This website is chock full of collars, or varying sizes and colors, but he keeps it simple - just a plain black collar with a silver loop at the front, the perfect size to slip a few fingers through and pull with. He rubs at his own neck subconsciously, thinking about how the collar would feel - would feel on you. Certainly not on himself. That’s not why he was doing all of this research. He was doing this for you, because he’s just such a good boyfriend. There were no ulterior motives underlying his actions, certainly not.

He forgets about the order pretty quickly, too caught up in schedules and you and his little nighttime ritual. He misses it one night because of a long dance rehearsal, Minho unable to let them leave the practice room until they got the choreo perfect, and Seungmin’s cranky the whole next day, snapping at anyone and everyone. Chan has to pull him aside and tell him to get his shit together to get Seungmin to, well…get his shit together. It’s embarrassing, and Seungmin thinks he needs to break his new nighttime habit before it becomes an issue down the line, when they’re touring and he can’t exactly go ham on a hotel pillow.

And then, two discrete boxes show up outside the dorm. It’s perfect timing, really - Felix is gone for the next three days for some fashion ambassador thing Seungmin should’ve asked more questions about - and when Seungmin opens the mystery packages and sees the results of his post-nut clarity not hitting him fast enough, well, he’s not complaining.

The reviews hadn’t lied, he notes, as he rubs the fur between his fingers. It’s incredibly soft, and Seungmin spends a little too long just petting at it before he snaps out of it. The collar is in the smaller of the two boxes, kept in a box within the box, and Seungmin carefully slides it out of the packaging, inspecting it. The silver loop glints in the light of his kitchen, and he admires the feel of the leather, just soft enough not to burn but tough enough to feel. That edge of pain is something he knows both of you enjoy, so the collar is perfect. All of the gear is perfect.

…the only issue Seungmin sees is that it hasn’t been tested yet. How will he know how good it’ll make you feel if he doesn’t try it out himself? Obviously, this is a very reasonable conclusion for him to make, and he pats himself on the back as he gathers all of the new toys and brings them to his bedroom. He’s really boyfriend of the year material, testing out the toys he bought for you on himself first to make sure they’re of good quality. You should give him an award, truly. What if it’s a bad batch, and the metal of the plug actually melts inside of you somehow? He can’t have that happen.

Which is why he’s slipping himself out of his clothes in the bedroom, new toys placed carefully on the bed. He’s home alone for a while, so he doesn’t feel any shame when he has to go to the bathroom to clean himself up a little and decides to leave his clothes in the bedroom.

He showers and cleans himself up, unused to the strange pressure inside of him as he does. It’s not terrible, per se, but it’s not a feeling he’s used to, and the fullness makes him a little dizzy, but he cleans himself out dutifully. He has to make sure that this test run is as accurate as possible for your sake, of course.

He fluffs his damp hair up and loosely wraps the towel around himself once he’s done, padding back to his own bedroom carelessly. How lucky was he to be home alone on a free day? Seungmin loves Felix to death, but there’s something magical about having the space to himself today. Especially when his pretty toys came in the mail. He thinks absentmindedly that he should invite you over later, take you over the surfaces of the house he usually wouldn’t dare to with Felix home. He files that away for later, a pleasant hum of arousal under his skin right now a more pressing matter.

The ears fit his head perfectly as he slips them on, and he feels a little lighter when they settle on his head. They’ve got just enough weight on them for him to know they’re there, but not so much so that they feel heavy on his head. He grabs the well-loved bottle of lube from his nightstand and gets onto the sheets, on his hands and knees. His only frame of reference for how the puppies always get opened up for their plug is just like this - presenting like a bitch in heat, ass high in the air and face pressed into the sheets. Seungmin likes the way it feels, how exposed he feels like this. He can feel himself slipping away as he teases a lubed finger around his rim, shivering at how cold it feels against him. Gently, ever so gently, he slips a finger in.

It hurts. Seungmin barely gets the first finger in before he’s hissing in pain, the length and girth of just one of his fingers enough to burn. He figured cleaning himself out earlier would’ve kept him nice and loose, but he supposes since he’s never been opened up before, it’s not a surprise that he’s so tight again already. He takes a shaky breath - in through the nose, out through the mouth - and convinces his body to relax.

Once he can breathe evenly again and there’s no burning sensation left, Seungmin carefully curls his finger, exploring. The pleasant feeling of fullness returns, although it’s not as pleasant as before, and he lets his finger slide out slowly, and then back in. It feels…good, he supposes, but almost like something is missing. He pushes in and out, feeling the squeezing of his walls around his finger, but it’s still not quite right.

He hears a whining sound, pitiful and weak, and he whips his head around only to realize that the sound is coming out of his mouth. He makes another weak sound at that, finger sliding a little more desperately not that he knows he can take it, but it’s still not enough. He desperately presses in a second lubed finger, and his eyes roll back in his head.

The fullness is better now, though not perfect, and the stretch has become a pleasant burn. Seungmin finds he can start moving the two fingers far faster than he got just the one moving, and the presence of a second finger has given him the ability to scissor himself open even wider. He moans at the sensation, voice almost unrecognizable in pitch, and it makes him squirm. He neglected cock leaks between his legs, but he doesn’t even consider touching it, too busy trying to stretch himself open wide enough for a third finger.

He slips the third finger in and he thinks he ascends. He wonders how the plug is going to feel, if just three fingers is enough to have his eyes rolling back in his skull and weak little sounds getting punched out of him. Little ah ah ah!s sneak out of his mouth as his fingers get a little harsher in their thrusts, too desperate now to keep the pace slow. He curls his fingers again, still exploratory in the throws of his pleasure, and oh.

There’s a little place inside of him that feels different under his fingers, but he doesn’t have long to think about it, because he presses down as hard as he can, and he’s coming. It’s like an instinctual reaction, and Seungmin drools all over the sheets and wails as he keeps pressing down on that spot, milking himself for all he’s worth. It feels so insanely good that Seungmin thinks for a moment that surely he must’ve died, because nothing is meant to feel that kind of good. It’s a full body experience, the little spot inside of him sending sparks through every limb and pure heat up his spine. He feels like he’s on fire, panting as he presses that spot again and again, addicted to the pleasure that’s blurring his thoughts. He’s hard again already, body protesting but Seungmin doesn’t care, because it feels too good, and he doesn’t want to think about anything other than feeling good.

He peels his eyes open now (when had he closed them?) just to catch the glint of the metal plug next to his head. Seungmin remembers fuzzily that the whole point of stuffing his fingers in himself had been to slip the pretty plug that matches his ears in, so he begrudgingly pulls his fingers out and reaches for the smooth metal.

It’s still cold under his fingers, and it makes Seungmin shiver when he gently runs the tip around his rim. If he were inserting this into you, Seungmin would tease and make you beg for it. Hold it against your rim with just enough pressure for you to feel it, but never let it breach your hole. Rub the metal around until the cool surface has gone warm from the heat of your skin, and your cheeks are streaked with tears.

But Seungmin feels so impatient. Is this how you always feel? He feels so needy, like he’s going to die if he doesn’t get the plug inside of him right now. Fortunately for him, he’s the one in control of the plug, and he presses it into himself frantically, craving that fullness that he was missing without his fingers stuffed inside of him.

He makes an embarrassing sound, something between a moan and a squeal, as he pushes the whole thing in. And maybe he was too impatient, because the flare of the plug is definitely bigger than his fingers, and he sobs as it stretches him open far wider than he had been stretched before. It hurts, but it hurts so good, and he pushes it all the way in with a nasty squelch! Excess lube dribbles down his balls, but he doesn’t care, because the plug is inside him, and the pressure is so sickeningly good that he can’t think of anything else.

He wiggles his hips a bit with the intent to feel the plug pressing against his guts, but it serves to also make the soft fur of the tail brush against the back of his thighs, and Seungmin feels a dopey grin stretch across his face. He clenches around the plug, and the feeling makes him squeak again.

He feels hot all over, brain muddled and empty, and he fumbles for his favorite pillow. His fingers feel almost useless, bumbling and pawing at the pillow to drag it to the middle of the bed, like he’s a real dog. It makes him shiver, which makes it hard to move the pillow, but he wants to feel good, so he fights through the fog to drag the pillow to the center of the bed.

He straddles it easily, body moving on instinct as he gets ready to hump his pillow, like he has for the past who knows how many nights. It feels different now, dirtier, as every swing of his hips to grind his cock down shifts the thick plug inside of him and swaying the tail behind him. He can feel the plug brush that spot inside of him again, and his hips pick up their pace, trying to find the angle that makes the plug kiss against that sweet spot over and over.

He can’t find it though, not when his thrusts are so sloppy and uneven. He can’t build a pace when his head is full of cotton, can’t even really think, but he still whimpers when he can’t get the plug to make him feel as good as he knows it could.

He is still dragging closer to the edge with ease, but it still feels incomplete. He buries his face in the sheets in front of him, humping harder and sloppier, but it still doesn’t feel quite right. He’s missing something. He's missing you here, you, who’s meant to boss him around, who’s supposed to guide his hips and make sure he feels good. His imagination isn’t enough, and so he just continues to teeter on that edge, feeling naked and weak and too good but not enough. It’s cruel and unusual, he bemoans, hips slowing to a deeper grind when he starts to feel too dumb to keep up the fast pace he was maintaining before.

He still has that feeling of nakedness about him, and he shoves three of his fingers in his own mouth to placate it. It satiates him some, but it’s not enough. He feels raw, like a lightning rod in the middle of a storm, just waiting to be struck. He sobs around his fingers, drool all over his fingers and his hand and the pillow below him, and he drags his other hand to his neck.

The collar.

That’s what he’s missing. The emptiness is radiating from his neck, and he needs it. Needs it more than he needs to come now, even though he knows that, surely, the feeling of the collar around his neck will push him over the edge. He fumbles around the bed, but there’s nothing. He doesn’t feel it, can’t hear it shift over the sound of his own whining and humping, so he’s forced to open his eyes and slow his hips down.

“Looking for this?” A voice cuts through, and it’s as if a bucket of ice water has been dumped over Seungmin’s head.

Because you’re here, in his room, fingers looped through the pretty metal of the collar as you dangle it above his head with a mean grin.

– – –

In your defense, you hadn’t walked in on him on purpose. Your meeting that was supposed to take up your whole afternoon got cancelled suddenly, and in the name of not having to pay you for five hours of nothing, your boss had “graciously” sent you home (how kind). You had thought about texting Seungmin, inviting him out for lunch or something to fill the void of your usually busy hours, but you knew it would be far more fun to surprise him. It was his day off after all, and Felix was out in Paris for a fashion show with a complicated French name you couldn’t say, so you imagine you and Seungmin could have some fun tonight. You always felt bad for when the two of you had to kick Felix out of the dorm for the night, your apartment walls a little too thin for you to have him over at yours instead.

So, obviously, you had come straight to their dorm, letting yourself in with the spare key that Seungmin had given you. Felix had joked that you’re the unofficial third roommate, and you had laughed, jokingly telling him that you would be taking his room when you made it official.

That was what you were thinking about when you walked into the dorm. It’s oddly empty without Felix, but you don’t even hear the usual hum of the TV from the other room, or the sound of…well, anything.

“Minnie?” You call, not very loud.

Maybe he’s still asleep, you muse, secretly hoping that he is. A good nap with your boyfriend and maybe some cuddlefucking afterwards sounded like a dream.

You walk further into the house, and there’s still no one. The living room is empty, the pillows still arranged perfectly, and you frown. A peek into the kitchen reveals the same eerie emptiness that filled the living room space, although there’s at least signs of life here. Two freshly open packages are set on the table, and your curiosity wins, because you’re peeking into them, curious fingers prying them open.

They’re empty, the only things left bubble wrap and a little generic “thank you for supporting a small business!” note that reveals nothing about what was inside the box. You dig around a bit, but there’s really nothing to reveal their contents to you, so you give up, your curiosity only bigger. What could Seungmin have ordered that he had to try right away? That had him so excited that he hadn’t even bothered to break down the boxes for recycling?

You hear a muffled sound echo through the apartment, what sounds almost like a whimper, and things click into place. Your boyfriend, who’s been acting weird, who’s been acting a little more submissive, whose empty packages are starting to seem deliberately discrete, is in his bedroom right now. You wonder how he’s spread out, what kind of toy he’s gotten for himself. You wonder if he heard you come in, or if he was too lost in his own pleasure to hear the door unlock or the sound of your voice. So you tiptoe down the hall to his room to see, quiet as you creak his door open.

And oh, what a sight he is.

You had expected that maybe he had gotten himself a fun toy, maybe a little pocket pussy to fuck his hips up into and pretend it was your hole squeezing him instead. Maybe a vibrator, the kind that has the pulsing settings that are perfecting for edging. You certainly hadn’t expected all of this. A pretty puppy, rutting into his pillow and whining like a bitch in heat? You were spoiled. You must’ve been a saint in your past life to have earned the sight in front of you right now.

He’s so in his own world that, even when you close the door behind you and walk over to the bed, he doesn’t hear you. His eyes are screwed shut, his mouth is open, and he’s whining as he pathetically ruts into his pillow below him. His hip movements are so uncontrolled, so unlike the usual Seungmin you know, and it sends a sick thrill running up your spine. A pretty tail swishes behind him with every thrust, a stark contrast against the white of the sheets and the pillow below it, and you want to reach out and give it a tug. You restrain yourself, content to just watch until he feels your eyes on him, but then the glint of something silver on the bed catches your eyes, and you reach out to grab it, watching Seungmin carefully as you do.

In your fingers you find a leather collar, black in color, a silver metal ring at the front that catches the light and makes it shine. You twirl it a few times, feeling it out, and find that it’s the perfect size to use to yank the wearer back. You give it a nice tug, and you find that it holds under pressure.

A louder whimper tears out of Seungmin’s throat, something more akin to a sob, and you turn your full attention back to him. His fingers are exploring the sheets blindly, searching, and you realize with glee that he’s searching for the little piece of leather that’s in your palm right now. His hand sweeps the sheets again, and you watch his eyebrows crinkle in frustration, tears streaking down his cheeks. And, well, you’re not mean. As you watch him crack his eyes open, you open your mouth to speak.

“Looking for this?” You coo, voice sugary sweet, and you watch a flurry of emotions sweep across his face.

Fear is the one you pick out first, and the most prominent one. There’s heat crawling up his cheeks that you can pin on embarrassment, but the genuine terror in his eyes makes you take a step back, dropping your facade for just a moment so he knows it’s okay.

“You know the color system and our nonverbal signals, jagi, if you don’t want to keep going,” you say firmly, looking right into his eyes, “I’m into this, okay? If it’s too sudden, we can step back and talk about it later. I can still help you get off, or I can leave the room and you can finish yourself off.”

You watch him juggle your words in his mind, watch his throat bob as he thinks about what he wants to do. He sits a little too long, though, and you can see the embarrassment start to dominate his features, so you cut in before he can try and take something away from himself that he wants.

“What’s your color, puppy?”

It’s a cruel trick, pulling out the name now. You know it is, know from the way that he keens high in his throat like he can’t help it that it’s mean, but you don’t care. You’re getting turned on now, too, heat curling in your gut as he gives you his biggest puppy eyes, you watch the way his hesitance fades away at the name. He’s still red, and still too far in his head for your liking, but you’ve got time to change it.

“I asked you a question, pretty,” you say, voice sharper than you mean it to be, “I expect an answer.”

He swallows big again, pressing his eyes closed like he doesn’t want to say it. He knows he doesn’t have to say it - knows he can use your signals instead if he really can’t get the words out - but he opens his mouth anyways.

“...g-green.”

It’s so quiet you barely hear it, but you can see it in the way that the blush spreads all the way down his chest, his tanned skin turning a patchy red under the intensity of your gaze. You sigh, reaching a hand out to cup his chin and make him look at you. He squirms at first, resisting, but your fingers press a little harder at his jaw, and he goes slack in your hold, allowing you to guide his face to look at yours.

“Good. If that ever changes, you let me know immediately. Understood?”

He nods as best he can in your bruising grip, and you shake your head.

“Words, puppy.”

“Yes, I understand.”

His voice is still quiet, tinged with nerves and what sounds almost like shame. You’re confident that the shame won’t be lasting much longer, not if you have anything to say about it. You nod once, satisfied, and then drop his face from your grip. He makes a confused sound, a little whine in the back of his throat, and immediately chokes it down, head tilting away from you again now that you’ve freed him from your hold.

You step back and strip yourself of your clothes quickly, not wanting to keep him waiting too long. The idea of him begging for your touch is certainly appealing, but you’re hoping this isn’t a one time deal, so (hopefully) there'll be plenty of chances for you to make him beg in the future.

“I have some rules for you, puppy,” you say, watching him with lidded eyes as you slowly slide your pants down, “Are you listening?”

He nods, and then opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“From here on out, you will not speak unless I’m asking for your color, because dumb puppies like you don’t speak, do they?” you interject, watching fresh heat spread across his face as his eyes widen a fraction, “And you will not come until I’ve allowed you to. And don’t touch that pathetic cock unless I give you permission, okay? That’s not yours to play with, it’s mine.”

He chokes out a whine and nods shakily, fists clenching and unclenching in the sheets. He’s still got his legs straddling the pillow below him, and you watch with glee as he tries to press his thighs together but can’t, the pillow keeping him from getting even a sliver of the friction he craves. He makes another tiny sound, and looks up at you with teary eyes, waiting.

“So pretty, jagi.” You say, and you can’t resist him, because you’re leaning forward to press your mouth to his.

It’s the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever had with Seungmin, all teeth and tongue. He licks into your mouth eagerly when your lips part, and it’s like he’s never kissed anyone before, let alone you. His tongue pokes and prods at everything he can reach, swiping across your teeth and your lips like he doesn’t care where it ends up. You can feel the way that drool is escaping out of the corner of his lips, and you pull away to lick a stripe up his neck and chin, collecting his lost spit and kissing it back into his mouth.

You’re used to his deep groans and little sighs, so how loud he is already is a shock. Every brush of your hand, every tilt of your head makes him squeak and moan below you. You haven’t even touched him yet and he’s so worked up, and it has that familiar burn of arousal spreading through your veins faster than you’d like to admit.

You pull back to admire your handwork. Seungmin’s eyes are a little more unfocused now, his cheeks dusted a rosy pink, and there’s drool streaking a trail down his chin and neck. You’re unsure if it’s his, yours, or a mix of both, and you reach a hand forward to thumb at the corner of his mouth absentmindedly, cooing when his lips part instinctively. You slip your thumb into his mouth and watch him suck on it lazily, looking up at you through his lashes. Your other hand still holds the collar between it, and you bring it up into his line of sight.

“Can I collar you, puppy?” You ask, and watch him swallow nervously again, “We don’t have to, jagi. I just think you’d look so pretty with a collar around your neck. Next time, I want to get you a little tag with your name on it, so it’ll jingle every time you fuck your pathetic little cock into your pillow. But we can save the collar for next time, pup, and I won’t be mad.”

He makes a whiny sound, and, refusing to look you in the eye as he does, he lifts himself on shaky legs and spins himself around. He tilts his head backwards, eyes squeezed shut like he can’t fathom the idea of looking at you right now, and you groan, unable to hold back the sound.

“Fuck, puppy, you’re so good for me,” you coo, slipping the collar around the front of his neck carefully, “Stay just like that, there we go.”

You watch a shiver ripple up his spine as the cool metal of the ring presses against his throat, and you carefully adjust the size until it looks like it’ll fit just right. And with a quiet click!, you buckle the collar around his neck.

He goes lax under you immediately, body slumping back into your fully. You have to step forward and crowd more into his space to keep him from slipping off the bed, and soon, you’re the only thing keeping him upright. You watch his tongue loll out, and his eyes lazily blink open. He tilts his head a few times, pauses, does it again, and hums with satisfaction, eyes slipping closed again as a happy rumble comes out of his chest. You think it’s simultaneously the cutest and the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and you feel the evidence of your own arousal drip down your thigh.

“Look so pretty in your collar for me, Minnie.”

He makes a distressed sound, shaking his head, eyes flying open and looking up at you pleadingly.

“No? Minnie doesn’t think he looks pretty?” You respond, tilting your head at him, unsure of what he’s whining about.

He makes another sound, mouth opening and closing uselessly. You realize it’s because he’s following your orders, and you speak up quickly, before this momentary distress turns into a real drop.

“You can speak if you need to right now, jagi,” you say, and that makes things worse, and he chokes on a sob as he even more frantically shakes his head, “Pretty, I need to know what’s wrong so I can help you.”

He just closes his eyes and shakes his head again, burying his face in your stomach. The position can’t be comfortable, and you press him off of you to look at him.

“Do you think you look pretty like this?” You ask again, careful this time.

He sniffles and nods only, a shy nod, but a nod nonetheless. He gives you a little smile when you reach forward to cup his face.

“Good, because I know you look pretty. My pretty Minnie-”

He cuts you off with a loud sound again, shaking your hand off of his cheek and pouting up at you again. You ponder for a moment, and then a lightbulb goes off in your head.

“Minnie?” He whimpers again, shaking his head, “Oh, I get it, I’m sorry it took me so long, pretty. You’re not Minnie right now, are you? You’re just my dumb puppy. Just a dumb mutt who doesn’t know how to think.”

He flushes at that, your words far more vulgar than he would’ve worded it, but he still nods eagerly, visibly relaxing now that you’ve figured out what he needed. Because he can’t be your Minnie right now. Minnie is dominant, a force to be reckoned with, a whirlwind in bed that can press you into the sheets and make you cry. But he’s not Minnie right now - he’s just puppy, and puppy can’t do any of those things that Mininie can do. Puppy’s only good for humping and mating and taking.

“I’m going to sit myself up against the headboard, puppy, and I want you to keep your eyes on me,” you say, grabbing the discarded bottle of lube as you slip onto the bed, “And no touching.”

Your tone drops at the end, a warning, and he swallows, nodding hard, and his cute little ears flop up-down-up-down as he does, and it’s so cute you think you might explode. He shifts so that he’s kneeling between your legs, not touching, but closer than he needs to be. You let it slide, knowing that he’s eager right now, and pop the lube open, generously spreading it across some of your fingers.

You don’t tease your entrance like he would, don’t do any of that circling the rim bullshit he always does to make you whine, you just slip one of your fingers in with a soft sigh, melting back into the headboard as you finally get some of the relief you’ve been craving. You didn’t realize how turned on you were until you finally got the chance to get your hands on yourself, and the relief is dizzying. You slip in a second finger easily, body already anticipating what’s coming next, and you laugh lightly as Seungmin leans in, closer and closer, until you can feel his breath on your hand. He’s entranced by the way that your fingers are slipping in and out of yourself, panting with his mouth open wide, so close he’s practically looking at you cross-eyed.

But he’s good for you, so he doesn’t touch. He just hovers impossibly close, drooling all over the sheets messily. He doesn’t dare to look away from your entrance, watching as you slip in a third finger and curl them all just right, fingers barely brushing against that spot inside of you. Your fingers aren’t as long as his, and you almost regret not letting him touch, but watching him drool over you is worth pushing your pleasure a little further down the line.

Once you’re sufficiently stretched, you slip your fingers out of yourself with a squelch! It’s a nasty sound, and it makes both of you shiver. Seungmin drools a little more, like he can’t help himself. You offer your sticky fingers to him, covered in lube and your own essence, and his tongue darts out to lap it up.

It can't possibly be a pleasant taste, but he mouths at your fingers like it’s the best thing he’s ever had, whining petulantly as you slip your fingers out of his mouth. He tries to follow them, but you click your tongue at him, and he sinks back on his haunches, looking just like a scolded puppy. You just sigh, like you’re disappointed, and you watch with delight as he curls up further into himself, the sound going straight to his heart. If his puppy ears were real, they’d be drooping, and his tail would be pressed between his legs. He looks so small right now, and it makes your head spin.

You don’t say a word to him, not yet, just lazily stretch your arms and languidly shift your position. He moves to accommodate you, and soon he’s up near the headboard and you’re in the middle of the bed. You put yourself on all fours, arch your back and wiggling your hips at him just to hear the pathetic noise you know he’ll make. He gulps so loud you can audibly hear it, and he whimpers when you let your upper half press into the sheets, staring intently at your winking entrance, still wet with lube.

“Puppy?” You ask, and you feel him jolt behind you, movement vibrating through the mattress.

He makes a quiet sound, like he’s responding, and you shake your head.

“No, that’s not the sound that puppies make,” you say, lifting your head to peer back at him, “My good puppy knows better, doesn’t he? What sound do puppies make, silly boy?”

You watch him fight a war with himself as you stare at him, waiting patiently. He’s already slipped so far, mind mostly a puddle and only thinking dumb puppy thoughts. But there’s still a rational part of his brain there fighting and you can see it, a part of him that still believes that this is wrong and bad and embarrassing. You know this will be the last push for him to finally break, and you let your hips sway gently again, humming quietly when his hips buck up into the air at the sight.

“Puppy could be inside of me already,” you say with a dramatic sigh, and a weak spurt of precum dribbles down his cock, “But for some reason, my puppy doesn’t remember what sound he’s supposed to make. All you have to do is bark for me, puppy. And then you can hump me, just like you humped that pathetic little pillow of yours.”

It’s beautiful to watch the last shred of his will fray, because he really is so pretty when he’s falling apart. He’s flushed a ruddy color, his breath is laboured, his cock is twitching and nearly purple with need between his legs, and the tears that were pricking his eyes finally escape, the humiliation sinking in and making him go dumb.

“Mhm…” he starts, and then catches you watching him, and freezes.

You raise an eyebrow, like you’re waiting impatiently, and he swallows again, closing his eyes to gather himself.

“Muh…” He shakes, his cock twitches, and it comes out in one breath, “Mong mong.”

It’s barely there, a quiet little bark from behind you, but it’s enough. You can see the way that he’s completely lost the last bit of pride that was clouding his head, and you give him the biggest smile you can muster.

“Good boy,” you murmur, and he perks up, nodding, “Now puppy?”

He lets out a weak little bark again, and your grin stretches impossibly bigger.

“Breed.”

He’s on you in an instant, moving so fast that you have to dig your fingers into the sheets to keep yourself from sliding forward. His hands plant on either side of your head, and he bucks his hips forward, cock sliding against the curve of your ass. It catches your hole a few times, but his movements are too sharp, too desperate, and it won’t go in. He wails at that, and you feel the warmth of his tears on your back and on your neck as he leans down to nuzzle into it. His puppy teeth find the skin of your shoulder and he bites as he tries to get his cock inside of you, but it’s no use.

He’s so embarrassed he could die. Everything feels like molten lava, and you’re no help, just presenting yourself to him and expecting him to just hump you like a breeding dog. He wonders how dogs do this with no hands, and finds that he can’t even do it with no hands, and it makes him feel so small and pathetic and that he's leaking even more all over your ass.

“God, can’t even do the simplest things yourself, can you?” You huff, reaching a mean hand back to grab at his cock.

Your touch isn’t gentle, but it’s the first feeling of warmth he’s had on his cock all night, and it makes him impossibly dizzy. He ruts into your hand, pleasure exploding behind his eyes at finally having something over than a pillow touching his stupid cock. You aren’t trying to be nice about it, and that makes it feel even better. The idea that he’s such a dumb, gross mutt that you won’t even touch him properly, that you’re just using him as a toy to fuck you full, has him weak in the knees.

You give him another harsh squeeze, and he stills his hips unhappily. He wants to keep humping, wants to spill all over the perfect warmth of your hand, but a blurry part of his mind remembers that there’s something even better waiting for him if he’s patient. He gasps wetly as you line the tip of his cock up with your entrance, and he can’t help but buck into the warm heat radiating from you. His cock slips halfway in with one sloppy thrust, and you withdraw your hand to give him room to fuck into you.

He barely pulls out before his whole body craves your heat again, and he’s thrusting all the way into you. It punches a moan out of your chest, raw and carnal, and his teeth sink into the meat of your shoulder again, muffling the whine that tears out of his throat. You feel so good around him he barely remembers to breathe, hips speeding up into a sloppy, fast pace as his body chases more more more of the burning hot pleasure he’s feeling.

He feels so good inside of you, even with his uncoordinated movements. The lack of true pace might even be hotter, because he’s so out of control because of you. He’s falling apart and crying and mouthing at your shoulder because of you. You clench around him, the coil inside of you already winding tight, and he fucks into you impossibly harder at the feeling.

“G-guh-good puppy,” you heave out, the force with which he’s fucking you with knocking the air out of your lungs, “So fucking good. Gonna-hngh! Fuck, gonna fill me up good? G-gonna breed me full?”

He nods as he cries into your skin, your whole body shaking with the movement as he bucks his hips up into you harder. It feels incredible, and you know you’re going to come soon, so you reach a hand back blindly and grab.

“Fuck-hah, shit-fuck me like y-you mean it,” you hiss out, fingers looping through the metal at his neck and pulling, “Can’t even-mhmm-feel your pathetic cuh-cock when you just hump like a dumb dog.”

He shudders, and you feel the movement through your body, and you have to fight to choke down the sound that claws at your throat. You want him desperate, want him humping you like his life depends on it, fucking into you so hard and sloppy that his cock almost slips out with every thrust.

And you get your wish, because with renewed vigor, Seungmin’s bucking into you, teeth still marring your shoulder and fingers digging so deep into the sheets that you’d be worried they might tear if you were paying attention. But you can’t pay attention to anything other than the feeling of his cock inside of you, fat head bumping that spot inside of you over and over again until your orgasm is so close you can taste it.

“W-wanna come, pup?” you wheeze, and he nods against your shoulder, letting out a moan when you squeeze around him tighter.

“Bark for me ag-guh!-ain and you can fill me up, puppy.”

You barely get the sentence out before a weak chorus of mong mongs escape his lips, drool smearing across your skin as he babbles. The sound gets louder and louder, his hips moving faster and faster to chase that edge of pleasure he’s finally allowed to taste, and you come with a shout. As you come, you pull on the collar as hard as you can, and the feeling of the leather on his throat and your pulsing walls around him is enough to push Seungmin over the edge, too. Seungmin trembles above you as he spills his load into you as deep as he can, mong mongs fading into weak moans, until he can’t move his hips anymore, body too weak to do anything but shake above you.

“Good boy, knotting me full,” you say, though your face is now pressed into the sheets under the weight of him, and it comes out muffled, “My perfect puppy. So pretty for me, so perfect.”

You continue to whisper sweet nothings as he melts into your back, full body weight crushing you like a weighted blanket. The feeling is nice, and you almost don’t want to get up, but then your thighs start to feel sticky, a mess of your cum and Seungmin’s cum dripping out of your entrance streaking down your legs and making a mess. You leg also is starting to fall asleep, and you can’t exactly lug your boyfriend to the bathtub with a numb leg.

“Puppy, we need to get clean.” You say, and Seungmin makes a noncommittal sound into the skin of your neck.

“Puppy.”

He makes a sound that’s almost like a growl, and you respond with an exasperated noise of your own.

“Puppy. My leg is falling asleep, c’mon.”

“Ngh.”

It’s the only response you get, and you kick at him weakly. He shifts enough to free your leg, but then immediately settles back down on top of you, content to just lay like this seemingly forever.

“I wanna take a bath with my puppy,” you whine, trying to appeal to him so that you can unstick your thighs, “Wash his hair, cuddle with him in the tub, kiss him all over…”

Seungmin rolls off of you and lets you free, whining slightly when his cock slips out of you, and you roll yourself unceremoniously off the bed and onto your feet, smiling down at his dishevelled state.

You hadn’t really gotten a chance to see him yet, not since he had fucked his cock into you, and he looks a mess. The puppy ears are askew on his head, tilted at an angle that can’t possibly be comfortable, and his hair is stuck up in a flurry of different directions. There’s a line of drool that’s dried down his chin and part of his neck, and there’s little red marks from where you dug the collar into his neck that peek out over the black leather. A haze stays settled over his eyes, and you can tell from the way he seems to almost be looking through you that he’s still floaty, the high of his orgasm still running through his veins. He looks beautiful, and it makes you want to ravage him all over again.

And on another night, you would, but tonight, things still feel almost delicate. You don’t want to push the line further than you have already. So you just help him stand and wobble the two of you to the bathroom, guiding him to sit on the toilet lid as you start up the water.

Once the heat is satisfactory, you let the water run, turning back to your pretty boyfriend. He still seems dazed, watching you with the kind of blatant adoration that he rarely lets show on his face, even in tender moments like these. It makes you want to put him in a jar and keep him in your pocket forever, his expression so cute and open and so incredibly puppy-like that your heart squeezes in your chest.

You gently lift the puppy ears from his head, delicately placing them on the sink counter. You reach to unbuckle the collar, but he whines loudly, so you drift your fingers past it, letting him keep what he needs on until he comes down. The tail is an easier ordeal, Seungmin only whining at the loss of fullness as you carefully pull it out of him, but he doesn’t stop you. You grab a hand towel and wet it in the warm, running water, and then use it to carefully towel down Seungmin and yourself. No point in bathing if you’re just going to sit in your cum the whole time, so you have to make sure you’re at least a little clean getting into the water.

You help him into the water and stay out of it yourself at first, just carefully getting his hair wet so that you can wash it. Only once you’ve washed the shampoo out of his hair do you slip into the warm water behind him, settling your chin on his shoulder and rubbing little shapes into his hand until you can feel him coming back to himself.

His telltale signs are in the way he stiffens against you, in the way that his skin starts to feel a little warmer under yours, and in the way his fingers twist to loop through yours; a ground measure he takes sometimes to keep himself in the moment. It’s sweet that, even in his nervousness, he still seeks you out.

“Welcome back, jagi,” you murmur quietly, voice warm and open, pressing a kiss into the sensitive skin below his ear, “How are you feeling?”

“...good,” he says after a moment, then pauses a breath longer, uncertainty settling into his voice, “You’re not…mad? Or weirded out?”

“I’m only a little sad that you didn’t just tell me you wanted to try something new,” you say honestly, “You know I’m willing to try just about anything for you. Plus, you were really hot.”

He groans, squeezing your hand tighter in his grip. “Shut up.”

“Mhm, you don’t actually want me to do that,” you coo, reaching your free hand up to trace at the collar still decorating Seungmin’s neck, “Puppy loves me.”

“Stop!” he hisses, though it’s weak, and the two of you fall into easy laughter and he flushes a deeper red.

Later, when you’re curled up in your bed, Seungmin curled up on your chest and half-asleep already, a sudden curiosity strikes you.

“How did you come to the conclusion that you wanted to be a puppy?” You ask, and he pinches at your side.

“Jisungie-hyung and Minho-hyung are freaks.” He says, and you nod.

“Makes perfect sense.”

“...and I showed Channie-hyung a porn video while I was drunk off my ass.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” He said, like it was the most normal thing ever, and then curled further into your chest, “‘m tired. G’night.”

You don’t get to think about the implications of what he said before he’s snoring lightly against you, already asleep like he didn’t just say an absolutely insane thing to you like it’s completely normal. You make a mental note to hound him about it in the morning, but sleep is calling your name too, and you let yourself drift away, the weight of your perfect puppy boyfriend against you pulling you under. You’ll have plenty of time to harass your boyfriend later. Now, it’s time to fall asleep, and dream of puppies and love.

Bonus (From Seungmin's POV):

Links to Intro | Chan

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