#sumsik

[complete-in-ix]

Arf! Arf!

Rating: E

Warning(s): Explicit sexual content, dom/sub, heavy petplay, hypnokink in the form of modified clicker training (snapping instead of a clicker tool), praise kink, strap-ons, oral sex, dacryphilia, cock stepping, mild degradation kink, spit as lube, minor masochism, no prep because I forgot to write it in ✌️🤪, anal sex, barebacking, oral fixation, spanking, come marking, breeding kink, knotting, come eating, cunnilingus, slight scent kink, leg humping, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation. Also trans Sumin and pathetic down atrocious puppy sub Jinsik because I'm a pathetic down atrocious trans puppy sub and I say so.

Description: Jinsik thinks that he has it in him to be bratty. Sumin welcomes him to try.

(Read on AO3)

All is silent in the xikers dorms. Today is a rare day off now that Red Sun promotions are over, so the members have decided to spend it accordingly. Minjae and Yechan have gone off to the studio, Junmin and Hunter are in the practice room helping Hyunwoo sharpen his dance skills, Seeun has dragged Yujun out with their manager for a day hitting the malls, and Junghoon is at another rehab appointment. This just leaves the two lovebirds Sumin and Jinsik together in the dorm for some long-awaited alone time. 

Their morning was spent curled in each other’s arms, the ever-disciplined Sumin slipping into Jinsik's room and bed as soon as his usual morning alarm had gone off. Jinsik had turned his own alarm off the night before, so they got to sleep in and dream of each other until almost noon. Sumin had made brunch for them after they woke up, and they ate together before going out for a walk around town. 

They’ve since returned home and are nestled on the couch together, enjoying the silence and each other’s company… Until Jinsik breaks the silence.

"You know yeobo, I'm starting to get a little tired of always having to obey you." 

Sumin's hand doesn't stop petting Jinsik's hair, nor does Jinsik lift his head out of Sumin's lap. Jinsik does, however, roll over just a little so he can look Sumin in the eye. He's met with a casual raised eyebrow.

"Do you mean in general or in bed?" Sumin is calm as ever. That's what Jinsik loves about him, he never escalates based on assumptions, always talks things out until they're clear with him. Jinsik is so lucky.

"In bed," Jinsik answers. He schools his face into a pout despite how much he wants to smile instead; he has to show Sumin that he's serious, after all! "I know we both feel good when I listen to you, but I'd like to take control for once. I bet I could make you beg for me just like I do for you." He finally lets himself smile at that. The mental image has been haunting him for weeks now; Sumin spread out on his bed, aching and begging for Jinsik to give him some relief. He wouldn't even need his cock to please Sumin, he knows the effect that just the sight of his tongue has on him! His train of thought is interrupted by a soft huff of laughter from Sumin.

"I'm sure you could, jagiya." Sumin yields to him far too easily, like he's watching a cute puppy trying to unlock a gate. Jinsik ignores how that nonchalant attitude strikes up an almost desperate heat in his gut. Both of them know that Jinsik is the strongest member without even having to work out. He could easily overpower Sumin and take whatever he wants from him. He just needs to take the initiative.

"Yeah, I could, so I will!" Jinsik declares, hammering in his point by brushing Sumin's hand aside and shoving him down so he's lying across the couch. Yet again, he goes down far too easily—with a smile, even—and even more frustratingly, doesn't shift his hips up to help Jinsik drag down his loose sweatpants. He quickly finds out why when his fingers catch on something on the way down and he's met with the sight of a very familiar black harness. It stops Jinsik in his tracks. It's been a while since they did anything past kissing in general, but even longer since Sumin has last worn that for him. The spark of heat in his gut blazes up into a wildfire.

"Still going to make me beg, pup?' Jinsik's brain is too busy leaking out of his ears to formulate a response to Sumin's teasing, let alone resist that all-too-fitting petname. He backs off as Sumin sits back up; can't—won't—touch him without permission. He thinks he shakes his head, he really can't tell if he did with how entranced he is at the sight of Sumin's strap. "Sit," Sumin commands with a snap of his fingers, and Jinsik bolts to the floor where he's pointing so fast that his knees bruise. The pain is nothing, losing his attempt at dominance is nothing, all he can focus on is Sumin's smiling face above him where he belongs. Sumin snaps again. "Speak."

"Woof!"

"Good boy~" Sumin cups his cheek with one hand, ruffles his hair with the other, and Jinsik is up so high that he can almost forget the throbbing need between his legs. "I'll forgive you if you bring my cock over here, pup. Can you do that for me?"

Jinsik nods so frantically that he almost bites his own tongue. Forgiveness, Sumin's cock, helping his master... He's a greedy pup, he wants it all.

"Such a sweet pup that I have~" Sumin coos, and Jinsik whimpers. "Now, you remember what pups don't do, right?"

Jinsik nods again; pups don't walk on two legs, pups don't use their hands, pups don't talk, pups don’t forget that the safeword is "Roady".

"Good boy, you're so smart!" Sumin praises, lightly shaking Jinsik's head around. Cuteness aggression, because Jinsik is a cute pup just for him. "I left it in my bag, now go fetch!"

Jinsik takes off on all fours almost before the command is finalized with a third snap of Sumin’s fingers. Not actually before, though, just almost. He's Sumin's good pup, he won't let him down. He finds Sumin's bag easily, it being just on the other chair next to the couch, and unzips it just as easily with his teeth. He sort of wishes that Sumin would wear sweatpants less often so he could open some other kind of zipper with his teeth… He shakes the thought out of his head; that's a conversation for another day. It only takes a little bit of messy pawing around inside the bag—his fingers carefully curled up so he doesn't break the rules—for him to find Sumin's cock; a long, thick, knotted green monstrosity—Minjae's words, not his (everyone now knows to never open Sumin's mail for him)—that makes Jinsik's jaw ache as he takes it into his mouth. He's already drooling around it as he trots back to Sumin and it's not even properly inside his mouth yet.

"'Good boy~" Sumin purrs upon his return. "You're so sweet, I've forgotten what I was about to punish you for" he says with an exaggerated pout as he takes his cock from his mouth. "That would have been mean of me to punish you for no reason, now wouldn't it? How about a treat instead?" Jinsik lights up even brighter than he had been before; if he had a tail, it would be wagging so hard that his whole body would be shaking.

"Woof!" He emphasizes his approving bark with a play-bow, ass up and chest so low that his shirt slides down to reveal his narrow waist. Perfect for Sumin to grab, right? Perfect to hold him in place with, right? He hopes he can convey his pleading with just his face, turned up towards Sumin at an angle that makes his neck hurt.

"Ooh, someone's eager~" Sumin teases as he kicks off his sweatpants. He has to take off the harness to put his strap-on together properly, shifting his hips up and—oh. He hadn't been wearing anything else other than that. He's also dripping, tdick standing red and proud and shining with slick. Jinsik's mouth floods with drool that he doesn't even bother to swallow down. He's been promised a treat, he can slobber for it as much as he wants! He can't help but whimper when Sumin clasps his strap back on and obscures Jinsik's view. "Naughty pup," Sumin chides, "were you hoping to get two treats?"

Jinsik's metaphorical tail stills its wagging. Could he? He averts his gaze from Sumin's cock to his eyes, chest prickling with shame. Sumin's face breaks from a playfully offended look into a smile.

"I know this is going to spoil you too much for your own good, but I'm doing it anyway," he sighs. “Come here.” Jinsik obeys, straightening up from his bow to rest his head in Sumin’s waiting hand. Sumin cradles him so gently as he shifts forward until Jinsik goes cross-eyed staring at his cock. "Cute,” he coos. He snaps with his free hand. It's quieter than the one he usually uses, but it's just as hypnotizing to Jinsik. “Get this nice and wet for me to fuck you with, and then you can taste the other one.” Jinsik doesn’t have to be told twice!

He opens wide for Sumin to shove his cock inside; waits like a good pup for that wonderfully mind-numbing weight on his tongue instead of taking it for himself. Sumin pulls him down by the hair, totally uncaring if Jinsik chokes or gags. Why would he care about something that won’t happen, after all? Jinsik’s mouth is deep enough that they wouldn’t have to worry about his gag reflex even if he had one. His eyes still water beyond belief despite this, spilling over as they roll back in his head. He chases the taste of his own tears as they mix with his spit on Sumin's cock; cis dick is apparently salty sometimes, so this must be an approximation of how Sumin feels when sucking Jinsik off. It feels like the fucking dream. 

“Such a good boy—fuck—I bet you’re leaking already,” Sumin curses, though Jinsik can hardly hear him over his own lewd slurping and muffled whimpers. He's hardly getting any time to breathe between thrusts, the back of his throat getting bullied into what he knows will get him a scolding from his vocal coach. Just the way he likes it. Sumin hooks a leg around his back and drags him closer until Jinsik has to brace his hands—still curled into paws—on Sumin's thighs for stability. He's leaking just like Sumin had predicted, has been leaking for a decent while by now. It's only just started to soak into his pants, wet and slick but still somehow sticky and fuck does it get to his head when coupled with the sting in his scalp. He wants—needs—to get off, so hard that he’s dizzy, would still be dizzy even if Sumin wasn’t fucking his throat like this. He’s rough enough that Jinsik can’t take his hands off his thighs to rut against them. A fresh wave of tears sting Jinsik’s eyes at the realization; usually Sumin gives him at least something! Then again, the leg that isn’t still hooked around his waist is right there, within Jinsik’s reach… The thought has Jinsik moaning around Sumin’s cock. It would be so dirty, so degrading to use Sumin like this; what kind of untrained, vulgar pup would he be to hump his master’s leg just for his own pleasure? He’ll be punished for it for sure… But the temptation is too appealing. He does his best to be subtle, make it look like he’s just scooting over to get comfortable—

—only for Sumin to lift up his heel and bring it down directly onto his cock. Not hard, thank fuck, but still with enough force to make Jinsik see stars. 

“Naughty pup,” Sumin scolds. He drags Jinsik off his cock as if to add to his punishment. Jinsik gasps out a ragged moan, tears and drool flowing freely down his face. “Your desperation is so obvious, it's kind of pathetic.” He grinds his heel just a tiny bit harder against Jinsik’s throbbing arousal and Jinsik can only moan and whine, weak to the pleasure-pain that only Sumin can give to him. 

He could come just like this, he realizes, even though this is new for both of them. Would Sumin let him, just this once? 

“Then again, I think I've strung you out for long enough. We'll talk about it later for next time, okay?” Jinsik whimpers in protest but nods anyway. Sumin is right, it’s better to wait and talk than risk a meltdown by pushing through. “Up.”

Sumin snaps his fingers again and Jinsik drags himself back onto the couch in an instant. The movement finally draws his attention to how damp he’s gotten, his sweat sticking his shirt to him and his pants sticky with precum. 

“Aww, poor pup~” Sumin coos when Jinsik whines. “Getting too hot there, aren't you?” He nods and Sumin snaps. “Paws up.” Jinsik obeys as soon as he’s stable on the couch, putting his arms up for Sumin to take off his shirt, and then falls back against the cushions and lifts his hips so Sumin can take off his pants and underwear. He can’t hold back his groan of relief when his skin is exposed to the air, head spinning too much to even be flustered at the exposure even when Sumin is raking his eyes over his body like he wants to devour him. “Fuck, you're so sexy,” he growls. “Do you have any idea how much I envy you? You don't even have to work for it, and your body is like this.” Sumin’s words are punctuated by his hands sliding up Jinsik’s sides, squeezing at his narrow waist and pressing him into the couch until his thumbs brush his nipples. Jinsik arches into the touch. “You're so sensitive, too~” Sumin pinches him, hard, and Jinsik yelps and tries to squirm out of his reach, but his cock—aching and red and leaking all over his stomach—jumps and gives him away. He never would have guessed that Sumin could turn him into such a masochist. Love does funny things. “Cute. I can't decide if I want to play with you or be inside you.” Jinsik whines in complaint; he needs Sumin inside him, now! Hasn’t he done all that he was supposed to? “Okay, okay, enough playing. Turn around.” Jinsik’s metaphorical tail gets right back to madly wagging as soon as their legs are untangled enough for him to obey. 

He presents just the way Sumin likes it; ass up, back arched, face pressed into the cushions. He gets a reverent hand tracing down his spine for his efforts that has him shivering. Sumin's touch is always so warm, so loving even when he’s punishing Jinsik. So gentle unlike the rough prod of his cock against his hole. 

“Remember to breathe, pup.” Is all the warning he gets before Sumin pushes his way inside; his unforgiving girth punching the breath out of his lungs and splitting him open with only Jinsik’s spit to ease the sting. 

“You like that, pup?” Sumin asks when Jinsik cries out. He slows down his less-than-gentle entrance for just a moment, pulling out slightly and returning to shove a pillow—now encased with Jinsik’s discarded shirt—under his hips. The rough, scratchy friction against his leaky cock borders on painful, yet he can’t stop himself from rutting against it; forward onto the pillow, backward onto Sumin’s cock, over and over until the pain blooms into pleasure. “This is easier than I thought it would be,” Sumin muses, one hand gripping Jinsik’s waist to steady him. “Have you been touching yourself when I’m not around?” 

Jinsik muffles a broken whine into the couch cushions. Caught. 

“Come on, pup. Answer me clearly.” Sumin’s voice takes on an authoritative edge. The hand on his waist tightens hard enough to bruise, while the other snakes around his throat to pull him up. “You’re allowed to talk just this once,” he teases, only to hook two fingers into Jinsik’s mouth. “I mean, if you can~” he adds when Jinsik chokes on a moan. Jinsik decides not to answer right away. The pressure of Sumin’s fingers on his tongue is just too good to resist closing his mouth around them and sucking, circling his tongue around the thick digits until his mind goes blissfully blank. The sound of it all is filthy; Jinsik’s muffled whimpers between his lewd slurping and the creak of the couch springs beneath him as Sumin fucks his way inside. Jinsik can’t get enough. 

“Such a needy pup, always wanting something to suck on,” Sumin huffs. He drags his fingers out of Jinsik’s mouth and lightly slaps him across the face with them, leaving a wet streak behind. “Come on, pup. I still need an answer.” He snaps his fingers again. “Speak.”

“Yuh—yeah, I have been,” Jinsik slurs. It's so hard to form words after not needed to for so long; the motions of his jaw and tongue now unfamiliar to him. “Jus’ missed y’so much, need somethin’ in me, need y’to fuck me, please, please!” He twists around to face Sumin properly—beg him properly. “Jus’ move already, ‘ll be fine.”

Sumin shoves his face back into the cushions. The new angle makes it hard to breathe with the way it restricts his throat; then again it could also be how deep Sumin reaches inside now. He’s almost bottomed out completely with just the knot left to shove its way in. He needs it all; needs it deeper, harder. 

“Such a greedy pup,” Sumin sighs. “No more talking,” he adds with a resounding slap to Jinsik’s ass. It stings so good that his eyes are spilling over again, fresh tear tracks running down his ruddy face. Jinsik obeys and lets his verbal processing skills melt away to blissed-out moans and whimpers. He’s much more comfortable this way, incoming crick in his neck aside. “You just want to be broken and bred, don’t you?” Sumin’s filthy words are paired with the rough drag of his cock against Jinsik’s walls, pulling out halfway and slamming back in. 

(Yes!) he wants to say, (Yes, please, breed me, stuff me full, give me your puppies!) He's already been freed from the burden of speaking, though, so he's reduced to just the animalistic moans that Sumin fucks out of him at a brutal pace. Sumin likes that, but he doesn’t understand them, so Jinsik rocks backwards and meets his thrusts as hard as he can manage. His cock ruts harshly into the pillow no matter what direction he goes in and it makes him feel so trapped, so dirty, so used. Just like it should be. 

“Good boy,” Sumin growls. “Such an obedient pup for me, my perfect little slut. Gonna knot you, knock you up with so many puppies. Fill out this pretty figure of yours.” His hand digs a bruise into Jinsik’s waist and Jinsik positively wails. The thought of his slender body growing wide and rounding out around Sumin’s children—impossible as they would be—after this is absolutely dizzying; he wants it, needs it. “Want my knot, pup?” Jinsik does his best to nod from his place shoved against the couch. Sumin’s smile—even though it's blurred with tears—couldn’t possibly be more beautiful. He finally releases his grip on Jinsik’s head and thrusts his fingers into his face. A familiar snap brings Jinsik’s brain back into focus. “Kiss.” 

Jinsik presses his lips against Sumin’s fingers in the best approximation that he can manage in his ruined state. Sumin huffs out a laugh, gentle fingers wiping Jinsik’s drool off his lips.

“Sweet boy,” Sumin sighs. “Not that kind.” Jinsik blinks his bleary eyes up at him in confusion until he snaps again. “How do pups kiss?” Oh, right. Pups don’t kiss like people. He scrambles to correct his mistake, curling his tongue around Sumin’s fingers and lapping at them until they’re shining with spit. “That’s better.” Jinsik’s focus fizzles back into blissful nothing at Sumin's praise. This is all he needs to function, just Sumin’s guiding hand, Sumin’s voice in his ear, Sumin commanding his every movement, Sumin, Sumin, Sumi—

His muted thoughts shatter into white-hot pleasure when Sumin’s slick fingers wrap around his cock. He muffles a cry into the couch as Sumin jerks him off; fast and hard to make up for his thrusts starting to slow down. It’s a welcome change from the pillow under his hips, which has gone from scratchy to borderline chafing over the course of this rough mating. 

“Good boy,” Sumin groans over Jinsik’s sobbing moans. “Such a good pup for me.” His hand speeds up and Jinsik nearly collapses, held up only by Sumin’s grip on his waist. “Getting close?” Sumin really doesn’t need to ask. He’s ruined Jinsik enough times that he can tell just by how his cock twitches in his grasp. “You’re so easy,” he purrs. The hand around Jinsik’s waist releases him just for a moment, and with one last snap of his fingers;

“Come.” 

Jinsik obeys instantly with a howling moan, so hard he nearly whites out. Sumin’s knot pops into place right against his prostate and sends sparks down his spine with every twitch of his body; all the more stimulation that's rapidly building up to be almost too much. Sumin doesn't let him get away; his hips still grinding his knot into him and his hand milking him for all he’s worth until he’s sobbing and trembling. He’s helpless to do anything other than take what Sumin gives him, until he’s choking on his sobs, until Sumin’s hand and the pillow underneath him—bless Sumin’s foresight to cover it with his shirt—are drenched in white, until the waves of his orgasm start to ebb into painful aftershocks. Sumin releases his cock with one final tug and spanks him just to make him squeal, no doubt leaving a white streak behind. Marking him. The thought makes his spent cock stir again, though he’s far too boneless to do anything about it at the moment. He only vaguely registers Sumin’s hand disappearing to drag the pillow out from under him. There’s a rustle of fabric and the pillow—now stripped of the shirt that had been covering it and mostly clean of any evidence—thumps onto the couch next to Jinsik’s head and his shirt is tossed into an inside-out heap on the floor. 

“Fuck,” Sumin hisses under his breath. Jinsik makes some kind of quizzical bleating noise in response; he knows something hasn’t gone right but is still too fucked-out to really process it. “It’s nothing that bad, don’t worry,” Sumin reassures with a gentle hand on Jinsik’s back, “you’re just a messy pup. There's cum on the couch.” Fuck, indeed. Jinsik faintly wonders if Sumin will command him to lick it off. He’s done that before after fucking him against his desk, it wouldn’t be a surprise if he did it again. Jinsik wouldn’t mind. Good pups do what they’re told. Jinsik doesn't hear any snap or command though, just the faint tinkering of Sumin taking off his cock. His strength has returned enough for him to turn around and give Sumin a questioning look. “Pretty pup.” Sumin pauses his unstrapping and reaches out with his clean hand to wipe Jinsik’s tears away. “Normally I would tell you to clean up your mess, but this is a shared couch and I'd rather not get your tongue on it before it goes inside me. I’ll take care of it this time.” Jinsik lights up. 

“Woof!” His tongue hangs out from between his teeth in his anticipation, and he starts to squirm and paw at Sumin, impatient for him to free himself and give him his second treat. The movement tugs at Sumin’s knot and they both hiss. 

“So impatient,” Sumin sighs. “Hold on, pup, I can't really do this with one hand.” He sticks his fingers in front of Jinsik’s face again and snaps, the motion flicking some of Jinsik’s own cum onto his cheek. “Clean up.” 

Jinsik obeys, parting his lips so Sumin can shove his fingers inside. His mouth floods with drool as Sumin presses them against his tongue and smears his release all over it. It’s slightly bitter but he laps it all up anyway, sealing his lips around each of Sumin's thick fingers to suck it off, then moving on to licking his palm clean. He swallows it all under Sumin’s watchful eye and is rewarded with a smile.

“Good boy.” His hand retreats and his weight pulls away from Jinsik mere seconds after, finally freed from the harness that he now buckles inside-out around Jinsik’s hips and legs to keep his knot secured inside him. “Still want your other treat?” Jinsik can feel himself getting hard again before Sumin can even finish his sentence. He whimpers pathetically, both of them already knowing that Sumin can tell he needs it. A familiar snap chases away Jinsik’s desperate thoughts. “Sit.”

Moving is a challenge now that Jinsik has a knot in him sending zaps of pleasure up his spine, but Jinsik is a good pup, so he obeys and drops to his bruised knees where Sumin points him. When he looks back up at Sumin, he's in the middle of stripping his shirt off. Jinsik's eyes roam over what’s revealed; soft abs, scar-defined chest, toned arms. Sumin lays his shirt on top of the couch before sitting down on it and opening his legs right in Jinsik’s face. Of course the motion draws Jinsik's gaze right between them. Sumin’s inner thighs have grown damp with his own slick, red marks cut into his skin by the harness that's now strapped on Jinsik. He's flushed a deep red, made darker by his black not-quite-curls. He's trimmed them again. Jinsik whines; he understands why he would, but it’s so much more enjoyable to bury his face in them and breathe him in when they’re longer. Then again this gives him a better view of Sumin's throbbing tdick and how wet he’s gotten—it’s like he’s applied gloss around his pussy—so he supposes it's worth it. 

“Come here, pup.” Sumin's words are punctuated by two quick snaps. Jinsik shakes himself out of his daze and rushes to obey, crawling between Sumin's legs and resting his cheek on his thigh. His hands come up to rest higher up on Sumin’s legs, still curled into paws, still a safe distance from his hips. His treat is so close… 

Another snap. 

“Wait for it.” 

Of course Sumin wouldn't make this easy for him. He whines but obeys and keeps still; if he's good and waits without touching himself, he'll get his treat. Sumin grins down at him. One hand cards through Jinsik's hair, the other held up ready to snap. Jinsik can feel himself starting to tremble in anticipation. 

Snap. 

“Speak.”

“Woof!”

Wait, whimper, whine. Wet his lips. Watch Sumin’s grin grow wider. 

“Want your treat, pup?” Sumin asks. He wraps a leg around Jinsik’s shoulders to drag him in closer, until he can almost taste it. Jinsik nods, a fresh wave of desperate tears pricking his eyes. The final snap of Sumin's fingers echoes in Jinsik's ears. 

“Eat up.”

Jinsik dives in like he's starving. Sumin's walls are so soft, fluttering around his curling tongue and soaking his face down to the chin in slick. His musk is the strongest here, thick and heady and intoxicating. Jinsik laps it up, breathes it in, tastes it—tastes Sumin. His nose bumps against his tdick with every swipe of his tongue and Sumin’s grip on his hair tightens until it stings.

“Good boy, fuck, such a good boy,” Sumin moans. The praise goes straight to Jinsik's neglected cock as Sumin grinds against his tongue, guiding him with a hand in his hair and his thighs squeezing his head. Jinsik could drift off to heaven like this, smothered between Sumin’s legs and listening to his muffled noises of pleasure. This is his purpose. “M’getting close pup, you're doing so good.” Jinsik whimpers into Sumin’s pussy at the praise. He chases after it, licks deeper into him to pull more of those pretty moans from his mouth. 

He’s fully drunk on Sumin now, the way he tastes, the way he clenches around his tongue, the way his pubes scratch his face; another reason why he doesn’t like them trimmed. It’s all made up for by the way Sumin drags his face up to shove his tdick into his mouth. Jinsik seals his lips around it and sucks hard, just the way Sumin likes it. He can’t help his smile when Sumin outright squeals above him. The leg that isn’t in the middle of crushing Jinsik’s head digs its heel into his thigh as Sumin folds in on himself. 

“Fuck, pup, like that, just like that, good boy,” he sobs in a breathless, constant string of praise. Jinsik whines, about as strung out as Sumin sounds. Sumin’s tdick twitches in Jinsik’s mouth and it makes his cock ache. He's still being good, right? He can use Sumin to get off without being punished this time, right? He dips his head down to lap up more of Sumin’s slick instead. He’s learned to be a good pup, he won’t do anything unless he’s told to, so Sumin shoves his foot between Jinsik’s legs for him. “Go on and use me, pup. M’so close, I know you can come again for me.” He snaps his fingers with a shaky hand. “Make a mess out of me, pup.” 

Jinsik muffles a moan into Sumin’s cunt. Finally! He sucks and laps harder at his tdick until Sumin’s thighs start to tremble; a telltale sign that he’s about to come, so Jinsik keeps it up until the very last second just so he can catch the gush of Sumin’s slick directly in his mouth. Fuck, he tastes like heaven. Sumin’s shaky, strained moans spur him to keep going, coax more of his juices out with his lips and tongue so he can swallow it down, drink him in until his stomach starts to turn. He’s spoiled that way. Sumin lets him indulge, nudges his trembling leg against Jinsik’s cock until he’s moving his hips on his own. 

Humping Sumin’s leg is just as dirty as Jinsik expected it would be, especially with the knot still inside him sending shocks of pleasure through his body with every snap of his hips. The shame burns him up in the best way possible, and he takes that heat out on chasing both his and Sumin’s pleasure. 

“Fuck, you and your devil’s tongue,” Sumin gasps out, hips bucking harshly against Jinsik’s face every time he licks into him. “Gonna come, greedy pup?” His voice has grown strained from how Jinsik refuses to let up on his cock; he keeps chasing Sumin’s taste even when Sumin’s grip in his hair has started to sting, even when the leg around his shoulders threatens to crush his head, even when his own pleasure threatens to overwhelm him. His breath starts to grow short as his orgasm builds, supercharged and twice as intense as the first thanks to the stench of sex filling the room and Sumin’s raw cunt clenching around his tongue and the slick dripping down his face and chest; Sumin’s mark, Sumin’s claim. 

Jinsik really does white out this time. Maybe it’s because he came so hard it fucking hurt, maybe it’s because Sumin shoved him into his cunt so hard that he briefly suffocated him, maybe it’s some combination of both. All he remembers before he’s blinking awake in Sumin’s arms is both of them slumping down against the couch. 

They’re soaking in a warm bath now, Jinsik’s back pressed up against Sumin’s chest. One of Sumin’s hands carefully keeps his head above the water line while the other massages away the aching bruise on Jinsik's side. He must have cleaned up and gotten them here sometime while Jinsik was out. Jinsik’s back and jaw are deliciously sore now, and will no doubt be giving him absolute hell tomorrow. Sumin, sensing his stirring, pulls him closer and presses a kiss to his shoulder 

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” he teases. His voice is ever so slightly hoarse next to Jinsik’s ear; Jinsik vaguely recalls hearing it start to break on his moans from his overstimulation. “Are you alright, jagiya? Did I push you too far?” Jinsik shakes his head.

“No, I liked it.” Jinsik attempts to twist around to look at Sumin properly only to be stopped by an unpleasant, tugging ache. “Ow. We’ve been rougher before, it’s okay.” He intercepts Sumin’s concerned, hovering hand by taking it into his own. “How are you feeling? I’m sorry I made you do this all by yourself.” He kisses Sumin’s knuckles, unsure if his tone alone will convey his guilt. Sumin hums in protest and kisses his neck.

“I’m fine, it’s not like you could have controlled that.” He leans his head against Jinsik’s and wraps his arm around his waist. His touch lingers on Jinsik’s belly for just a moment; like something had taken, Jinsik’s imagination supplies. Like they have something precious underneath. “Having you here like this makes up for it.” Jinsik’s heart melts. It drips down and soaks into his skin, dissolves into the water and carries him off on the ripples to a heaven where only he and Sumin exist.

“I love you,” he murmurs into the silence between them. Sumin’s lips curl into a smile against his skin.

“I love you too.” 

Later on, they’ll sit up and clean each other off properly. They’ll run loving fingers through each other’s hair, work out the knots in each other’s bodies with the utmost care, tend to each other’s bruises as if any touch other than the most gentle will break them. After that they’ll help each other get dressed, sneak past the living room hoping that the open window will air out the smell of their coupling before the others get home, and curl up in Sumin’s bed together to cuddle and kiss the hours away. Jinsik will cry, and when Sumin asks him why, he’ll shake his head and tell him that he’s just so lucky to have someone who loves him so much, who’s so good to him. He’ll apologize for being silly and Sumin will reassure him, kiss his tears away until they drift off to sleep.

That’s all for the future, though. In the present, they only need the heat of the bath and each other’s embrace.

[complete-in-ix]

Beyond The Path Of Reason

Rated: E Warning(s): DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Implied past non-con, implied past abuse, (neither of those are committed by the mcs), self-harm, stabbing, explicit sexual content, erogore, woundfucking, cannibalism, I cannot stress enough that Sumin comes inside Jinsik's chest cavity please scroll if you don't want to read that, hypnotism, like if Jinsik was Tomie basically Description: Ham Jinsik is no ordinary human. Perhaps he once was, though the truth of his origin has been long since lost to time. All that even he himself knows is that he was born blessed with such beauty that higher beings themselves envied him and mere mortals fell irrevocably and madly in love with a single look into his eyes. Once he became of age the madness overtook the love, and for the first time in his soon-to-be centuries of life, he was murdered in cold blood. Countless calamities have fallen upon his body and heart during his cursed wandering of the earth, all brought about by those unfortunate enough to love and be loved by him. All until Choi Sumin. Sumin's love touches Jinsik differently. He can only hope Sumin will touch him differently, too.

(Read on Ao3)

Jinsik is all too happy to melt into Sumin's kisses at the end of the night. Three dates is already a high number to score with Jinsik and here he is letting himself be pinned to Sumin's bedroom door after—well, he stopped counting after seven. His stomach is pleasantly full from dinner—homemade by Sumin, because of course it would be—and his head buzzes with the daze of wine—full-bodied and sweet just the way he likes it. His heart is in the best condition it's been in decades; swooping in his chest light as a feather with every press of Sumin's lips to his own. 

"You," Sumin whispers between kisses, "are so amazing." His jacket drops to the floor in the time it takes for Jinsik to catch his breath. 

"Me? I've hardly done anything to warrant that, have I?" Jinsik, ever coy, dodges Sumin's kisses this time. He still dives in; landing on Jinsik's cheeks, his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Jinsik can't help but giggle at his insistence to love him; he's like an ever-adoring puppy. 

"You exist, jagiya. That alone is amazing enough." Sumin abandons Jinsik's lips in favour of mouthing at his neck, kissing and sucking faint pink marks into his soft skin. Jinsik swallows down a heavy cocktail of dread and arousal as he dips lower; just shy of his collar now. Oh, Sumin's been so good so far. If he fails this last trial, what will become of Jinsik? Of his heart? His body? Jinsik allows him one last lingering kiss to his Adam's apple before lightly pushing at his chest. 

"Yeobo, hold on," he murmurs. Sumin obeys immediately, pulling back with his face turned up in concern. His hands leave their place on Jinsik's waist after a moment of hesitation to hover nervously between them, like he doesn't know what to do with them. Oh, this is new. No one has stopped for Jinsik before Sumin. It's… Nice. He continues before his brooding can take over him. "I have something to tell you before we do anything else." Understanding dawns on Sumin's face.

"Oh?" His tone is light, carefully measured as he guides Jinsik to sit down on his bed. "What is it? Please don't be afraid to tell me, I'm always here to listen." Sumin sits down next to him; farther down the bed away from the door, a safe distance from Jinsik. Providing an exit in case he needs one. He's smiling when Jinsik looks up at him again; soft and reassuring. Jinsik can't help but mirror it. "Whenever you're ready, jagi."

"I—" The words lodge in Jinsik's throat. How many times has he had to have this conversation over the years? How many more times will he have to spill his guts for a man and pick them up again when he inevitably finds them too much of a mess to deal with? How will he handle it if Sumin repeats this cycle? Jinsik glances back up at him to find his curiosity fully replaced by concern. Please, please let this time be the last. He takes a deep breath and tries again. "I've had… Other relationships before." He doesn't need to tell Sumin this; he had garnered quite the reputation for his amount of failed relationships in just the first few months of school; rumours fly quite quickly on a college campus. Sumin hadn't cared in the slightest, nor does he care now. He continues after clearing his throat. "They weren't the best. Some of them cheated on me, some of them ghosted me… It doesn't really matter anymore, they're long gone. It's just…" Here he goes. "... Some of them have really—" He crosses his arms over his chest; nails biting into the meat of his arms. "—hurt me." Sumin sucks in a sharp breath.

"Oh, jagi—" Jinsik shakes his head before he can continue. He has to get this out now or he never will.

"It's not just…" He sighs. "Sometimes they wouldn't just hit me, o-or they'd hit me to get me to—to—" The words tangle around his tongue yet again. All the past decades come flying back to Jinsik again; all the strangers on the street, all the times he'd come back crying only to be called a cheater or worse, all the times he's been beaten and pushed down "because you're mine", every silver tongue that's turned to a vile intrusion against his own. All of them making Jinsik the victim of their own lack of humanity that he's learned to despise. 

"Jagiya, it's okay." Sumin's gentle voice drifts past his screaming memories. "You don't have to say every detail, I… I think I get it." He reaches out to Jinsik, stopping just short of his hand. "None of it was your fault, nor does it change how I see you now. You're still the Jinsik I want to spend all my time with from now on." Jinsik sighs. Now's the hard part. 

"It was my fault, actually." He puts a hand up before Sumin can protest. "Let me just show you so you'll believe me." 

Sumin's favourite pocketknife—his first in a collection that he's been building since he was sixteen, a gift from his father—disappears from his nightstand and flicks open in Jinsik's hand. 

"Jagi, what are you—"

Jinsik slices a deep white gouge in his own arm before Sumin can reach him. 

"Just watch." Sumin does not just watch, scrambling to Jinsik's side and rushing to cover the wound left behind. 

"I'm not going to just watch while you do this! Please jagi, I want to help you through whatever's—" Jinsik's wound knits shut under Sumin's hands; the red river flowing down his arm slowing to a trickle, then a stop. "—been haunting you… What the fuck—"

"I told you, yeobo. Just watch." Jinsik slashes open his other arm this time and places the knife against his throat before this one can even stop bleeding. "I need you to promise me you won't call me an ambulance." 

Shellshocked, Sumin can only nod. 

"Good boy." Are the last words out of Jinsik's mouth before the knife digs in as far as it will go. The whole blade disappears into his flesh and exits him dripping with red that he takes care not to get on Sumin's sheets. His neck spasms against the gush of blood floating down his throat. There’s nothing he can do to prevent the mess that sprays from his neck then; fine droplets of blood and spit finding their way to Sumin’s sheets and floor. 

“Is this going to heal up too?” Sumin asks over the sound of Jinsik’s retching coughs. “Please tell me you’re going to heal from this.”

“I—” Jinsik can hardly get a word out through his chest-ripping coughs. “—I’ll be fine. I just—” There are flecks of blood on Sumin’s hands now too. “—have to show you this—” The edges of his wound grind together unpleasantly as he tries to swallow. “—first so you’ll take—” Stars dance about in his vision as his lungs deplete. “—this next part seriously.”

“There’s a next part?” Sumin’s voice starts to shake around what Jinsik knows is the instinct to gag. It’s commendable that he hasn’t fled yet; Jinsik’s last fling to make it this far had done so while filling him up with lead. He’s patient while waiting for Jinsik’s response, only reaching out for his hand when the lack of oxygen starts to make him sway. 

“To put it simply…” Jinsik’s voice is about as smooth as sandpaper when he can finally speak again, heavy under the weight of blood clots that still cling to the inside of his throat. “I’m just irresistible to anyone who looks me in the eye.”

“Is—” Sumin’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. An anxious habit. “—is that why you never look people in the eye? I really did think it was because you’re on the spectrum.” His words are carefully measured; Jinsik can see that he’s trying to make sure his actions are the same, but he can easily see Sumin’s curiosity starting to overtake him now. Nervous fidgeting with his hands has become a too-measured stillness, his body leaning towards Jinsik when he had initially been keeping his distance, his neck craning this way and that to get a proper look at Jinsik’s face. Cute. 

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I’m still on the spectrum,” Jinsik giggles. A laugh slips past Sumin’s careful composure to signal his guard dropping, and Jinsik rushes to strike. 

“I’m also no longer human, yeobo.” He speaks into Sumin’s very soul; the very windows to them open and locked on to Jinsik’s. This always happens; they can never look away once Jinsik makes eye contact. His flesh used to crawl every time in anticipation—dread, really—for what would be to come, but… Sumin doesn’t move. He just melts under Jinsik’s gaze, slack-jawed in his awe. That… Hasn’t happened before. “This has been my curse for a long, long time. Don’t you feel it?”

“I…” Sumin swallows thickly. “... I feel something, alright. I feel you.” His hand twitches against Jinsik’s, as if being manipulated by someone else to grab a hold. Interestingly, he doesn’t. “I want you, Jinsik. I want you so bad it’s starting to hurt.” His body jerks somewhat as he crosses his legs; fast, but not fast enough to hide his arousal straining at the front of his pants. As expected. Oh, please don’t let Jinsik’s faith in him fail now!

“Aren’t you going to take me, then?”

Sumin recoils away from him as if he's been struck. 

"What?! No, not after what you've just told me!" Sumin's voice shakes with the effort it takes to keep it steady. His hands do too; digging into the sheets so tightly that his knuckles turn white. "I—you said this is your-your curse, right?" Jinsik nods. "Then everything that happened to you still isn't your fault. You don't mean to—" Sumin swallows roughly. "—to bewitch people like this, right?"

"Most of the time I don't. I really hate it sometimes, but not now." Jinsik leans in closer to Sumin as he speaks. "I mean it right now, Sumin. What are you going to do?"

Sumin is silent for a long, long moment. Jinsik doesn't take his eyes off him for a single second of it; watching his blown-out eyes roam over his body, the hot flush of arousal blooming across his face, the bob of his throat working around words that don't come out. 

"Nothing," Sumin finally says. His voice splinters on the word. "I won't be an animal just because you're cursed." Jinsik's bloody hand inches closer to his, so close that anyone else surely would have snapped. Sumin still doesn't move. "I won't touch you unless you—you, not your curse—want me to, jagi." 

Jinsik's breath halts in his lungs. 

"Yeobo, you're…" A delirious laugh bubbles up his throat. "You're the only person who has ever said that to me." He finally throws away his previous restraint and flings himself into Sumin's arms. As expected, Sumin yelps and tries to scramble away from him. 

"I—the first?!" he stammers. "That's just not right, jagi, just because you're cursed doesn't mean other people have the right to—" Jinsik kisses him before he can start rambling. This should be the true point of no return, right? Wrong. Sumin's hands still hover over him without making any contact. 

"Thank you, yeobo," Jinsik giggles against Sumin's lips. "I get the idea." Sumin nearly chokes to correct himself only for Jinsik to kiss him again. "I just had to make sure you wouldn't hurt me." Sumin's heart breaks before Jinsik's very eyes.

"Oh, jagi." He pulls Jinsik into a hug so tight that he can feel his heartbeat against him. "I would never. Curse or otherwise, I'll destroy myself before I ever let you be hurt." 

Heart melting, Jinsik shakes his head.

"I can recover from being hurt—I'm still alive after everything that's been done to me after all—but you can't. Not like I can." 

"Still—"

"Yeobo," Jinsik cuts in before Sumin and his morals can get ahead of himself. "I'm trying to tell you that out of all the pain that I've been put through, I'm ready to give myself to you." He extricates himself from Sumin's arms with a gentle hand and slides up the bed to nestle among his pillows, uncaring of the blood he smears behind him. "Come here." He flips the knife around in his hand and extends it to Sumin. "Take as much as you want from me."

Entranced, Sumin crawls up the bed until he's between Jinsik's legs. Trembling hands take the knife from his hands, fold it back up, and return it to the nightstand.

"I only want what you're willing to give me," he murmurs into the space between them. "I don't need a knife to show you that I love you." It's a lie that Jinsik easily spots in his eyes but one he indulges anyway. If Sumin is going to be this insistent on fighting Jinsik's curse for him, Jinsik might as well let him find his own way through. 

"Even if I want it?" Jinsik asks. He keeps his eyes locked on Sumin's to watch his pure soul flail against the madness of Jinsik's curse. His grin grows the more Sumin struggles, only to falter when Sumin wins yet again. 

"Do you want it or does your curse want it? I know this isn't something you can control but I don't like being played with, jagi." His gaze drops from Jinsik's eyes to his lips—still wanting but free of the curse's pull—safe territory. 

Jinsik hesitates. Now that he's still being denied the pain that he's been bracing himself for, he finds himself disappointed that it won't come. This he knows to be his own heart speaking; the curse only touches his body. His body that has grown to conflate pain with pleasure can only determine whether or not it's experiencing a sensation; his mind is the only thing that can determine if he wants said experience…

He nods.

"I want it. I trust that you'll take me apart to love me after everyone else has done it to control me." Sumin's eyes are fully lucid when they meet Jinsik's again. The relief in them is palpable and tinged with the love that Jinsik has grown used to seeing yet is still surprised to find. 

"I'll keep that in mind," he says with a bright smile, and then he's finally—finally—closing the space between them. Jinsik melts under him easily, lapping up his love just as eagerly as Sumin chases the taste of iron from his tongue. Sumin's hands trace the same route that his knife had sliced through Jinsik's arms only to find smooth, unbroken skin; the only evidence of that self-inflicted violence being the blood that now sticks to his fingers. 

He leaves red handprints on Jinsik's clothes as he flips them over so Jinsik is nestled in his lap; if he wants to bleed, it'll get on him too. Jinsik smiles against him; it's so cute how Sumin wants to drown in him. He won't let that happen just yet, pulling back to let Sumin breathe. 

"Jagi," Sumin growls in complaint. Uncaring of his need to breathe, he continues to kiss Jinsik everywhere he can reach; his cheeks, his jaws, his neck. 

"Yeobo," Jinsik whimpers. "Sumin, that hurts." Sumin frowns in confusion until Jinsik's hands bat at his own. His fingertips are red when he finally loosens the grip he didn't know he had on Jinsik's waist, his nails having left crescent-shaped punctures in Jinsik's otherwise unmarred skin. He jerks back at the sight as if he had been burned. 

"Oh shit," Sumin hisses. He pushes himself back against the headboard as if he can get away from Jinsik—who's still comfortably seated in his lap—and his own temptation to touch him again. "I'm so sorry jagi, are you—" 

"I told you, I trust you." Jinsik cuts him off with a finger to his lips before he can start spiralling. Sumin freezes mid-word, entranced by the coy smile on Jinsik's face. Such a sweet boy, this one; Jinsik finds himself endeared this time around. "I know what you want to do to me, yeobo. Go ahead. I want it too." He punctuates his words by bringing Sumin's hand up to his mouth. Keeping his eyes locked with Sumin's, he traces Sumin's bloody fingertips over his lips. It's as easy as applying his favourite lipstick despite the sharp tang of iron. Sumin's tongue darts out to catch another taste just for the hell of it, and his breath hitches as if Jinsik had punched it out of him. His pupils are blown wide open with nothing but love in their depths. Not a trace of Jinsik's curse, and yet… "Hurt me more, yeobo," he purrs. "Make me feel how much you love me." 

Ever obedient, Sumin needs no more direction before he's surging up to kiss Jinsik's blood off his lips. He chases the taste harder than a drug; past being a junkie, he becomes a beast in the way he licks and bites at Jinsik's lip for his blood. Got him. 

"So beautiful," Sumin growls in tandem with his nails returning to the wounds he's already made. "My angel. Where are your wings?" Jinsik bites his lip against a giggle as Sumin turns his attention from his lips to his neck. His tongue is hot against his skin, surely able to taste the blood rushing just underneath. 

"Me, an angel? You have too much faith in me, yeobo." Jinsik's heart still swells with fondness as he rejects Sumin's praise. It's then that Sumin chooses to bite down, hard and fast. He jerks his head like a beast—both to get his teeth deeper in and to deny Jinsik's denial. 

"S'not true," he mutters through his mouth that's quickly overflowing with blood and flesh. "They're right here." His hands snake up Jinsik's shirt along his back. His hands are reverent unlike the savage rip of his teeth and Jinsik feels dizzy; loved and desired, worshiped and desecrated. He can't decide which feeling he likes more. Sumin, the beast, soothes the wound in Jinsik's neck with tender licks and kisses, lapping up his blood like one would savour a particularly sweet honey. 

Now it's his hands' turn to deliver the pain; raking down Jinsik's back hard enough to leave lines of red welling up in their wake to stain and stick Jinsik's shirt to his skin. Tears roll down Jinsik's face in tandem with the blood on his back—tears of love, his life as his love that Sumin draws from him with the dig of his teeth or press of his lips. 

"Going to dig my wings out of me, yeobo?" Jinsik asks, his voice strained against the rough drag of his shirt against his wounds. 

"Mhm. Let me see you." Sumin's voice is slurred from all the blood in his mouth. Drunk on Jinsik's love. Sumin's hands leave him for only a moment; long enough for Jinsik to strip off his blood-soaked shirt and pass him the knife that's been lying neglected on the nightstand. He plunges it into Jinsik's back at the exact moment that Jinsik kisses him again, rough and sharp contrasting soft and tender. Sumin holds him as he chokes on his blood, laps it up from his lips while he shakes and spits up more. Such an eager puppy for any scraps of the death that he can never give him... Jinsik's in love. 

Unable to express this in words thanks to the knife that's left and returned for another strike in his other lung, he confesses through more breathless, bloody kisses. Sumin returns them with equal, if not even more intense fervor, having already fallen past love and obsession into insanity. 

"M'gonna find your wings," he whispers between kisses. "I'll find them and rip them out. You're my angel, I won't let you fly away to anyone else." True to his word as always, the knife returns to his back over and over again; slicing and splintering bone with every strike. Jinsik's lungs collapse somewhere between the fifth and seventh strike. Black spots that he's too weak to swat away dance in his vision. They interrupt his view of Sumin's pretty face, Jinsik wants to be rid of them. 

The knife is replaced by Sumin's searching hands. They search through the mess left behind and splatter Jinsik's ruined skin and their sheets—already soaked by the knife's ravaging—with blood and gore. Jinsik falls limp against Sumin's chest as he fondles his broken ribs from behind, his fingers dipping into the gashes between them as if they were a pussy—a thought that has Jinsik blushing despite everything else that Sumin has already done to him before. He wonders if Sumin could cut one into him, one day. 

His train of thought is interrupted by Sumin properly gripping his ribs and pulling. Some pieces are easily ripped from his flesh, some stubbornly cling to the rest of his frame. He at least has the sense to hold on to Sumin to help him, his head jerking back at the sudden resistance. Blood and drool run freely past his parted lips and make a mess of him that Sumin gladly cleans up with his tongue, all while his hands continue to twist and pull at Jinsik's ribs. The agony would be numbing if it wasn't for Jinsik's shot pain receptors, so overloaded that it only registers as white-hot pleasure. 

Just as Jinsik is blindly groping for the knife again, Sumin's hands plunge into the holes he's dug into him. 

"There you are." Jinsik can barely hear Sumin over the roar of blood in his ears. "Now let's take care of those wings, yeah?" His hands are on Jinsik's lungs before they can fill up with his response—not that they could with all the holes that have been punched through them. 

Sumin yanks them out in one smooth motion. They tear against the jagged edge of his still-bleeding bones, a rough, wet dragging of flesh and fluid and organs stopped only by the impact of cartilage against his spine. The pull is cut off with a flash of Sumin's knife. 

They're both soaked now, clothes and skin shining in varying shades of red. Jinsik had once associated it with the madness and rage that came with his curse; reviling how humanity chose to assign the dreadful colour to love instead. Now, however, having it pulled from him by Sumin, he understands. He craves more.

Sumin handles Jinsik's "wings" with a surprisingly gentle hand even as they drip blood all over him—then again he's already covered in it. He sets them aside next to his knife; "For later," he says, "I'll eat them once I'm done with you." Then, because he can never resist a joke: "Do you think they'll taste like chicken if I prepare them properly?" 

Jinsik would groan if he had the ability. He rolls his eyes so hard they nearly drop into the back of his head instead; a grievance that Sumin rushes to placate. His chest spasms in weak, futile attempts to keep filling lungs that are no longer there, his throat working around nothing while Sumin kisses him through his perpetual death throes. They will never end permanently; only taper off as his corrupted body is forced to heal over and over again as Sumin continues to destroy him. Continues to love him. 

"Sorry, sorry." He seals each apology with a kiss, so sweet that Jinsik can only accept. He can feel himself healing at the press of Sumin's lips; flesh knitting itself back together strand by strand to pull cracked bones back into place, nerves and veins zinging as they reconnect and resume their flow. Sumin is oddly patient this time around; his hands only tracing soothing patterns over his skin instead of digging in for more. Then again he's never hurt Jinsik this deeply—never loved Jinsik this deeply before. Perhaps he doesn't want to push. Jinsik's throat jerks in what might be a sigh—still impossible until his lungs have fully grown back—of endearment. Sumin is truly too sweet for him. 

"You're so beautiful like this, jagi," Sumin whispers. His eyes are closed while he licks the blood off Jinsik's skin. "Feels so good to know you're mine." Jinsik would whimper if he could. Sumin soothes his needy twitches with another kiss, soft and sweet and full of blood. His touch is gentle on Jinsik's back; feather-light on his newly grown skin. The ridge of broken bone is still visible underneath as it knits back together. Jinsik flinches at the touch. "Sorry," Sumin whispers, his voice tinged with remorse. Funny that he's only apologizing now after all he's done. "How are you feeling?" Jinsik chokes on his answer; words aren't going to be possible for a good while yet. 

He raises a blood-drenched hand to Sumin's, turning it around and opening his beloved's fingers to trace a messy red heart on his palm. Just to affirm his green light, he presses a kiss to the corner of Sumin's mouth. He leaves a shining red mark reminiscent of a lipstick stain that curves out of place as Sumin smiles at him. He's still so cute even when covered in his blood and the flush of sex high on his cheeks…

Jinsik spots the exact moment that Sumin’s heart melts; oozing slow and slick all over himself. No doubt this will make him sticky—well, even stickier than he already is—once he's fully ruined Jinsik. 

"I love you too." 

Jinsik's heart nearly stops for the first time in centuries. Had he really been that obvious? Of all the times he's ever been the first to say he loves someone, this is the only time he's meant it—and he hadn't even said it out loud! 

"Please don't be scared, jagi." Sumin's voice breaks him out of his panic. "Let me be good to you, my love." Jinsik melts under his words and his touch. What else can he do when Sumin truly is so good to him? "Are you okay to lie down?" Jinsik nods and lets Sumin push him down to the bed even though his skin has barely healed enough to keep his fractured bones inside him. It's fine, he likes how it hurts. 

Sumin is none the wiser, kissing him briefly before moving down to finally free him of the sticky, wet mess that is his pants. Jinsik chokes out a groan as the fabric is pulled—peeled, really—from his skin. He hadn't even noticed how uncomfortable it had been to be stuck in those while Sumin had his way with him. 

"Oh, jagi," Sumin coos. "I've made a mess of you, haven't I? Let me clean you up." He's kissing a line down Jinsik's chest to his cock—still hard despite everything—and taking him into his mouth before Jinsik can respond—not like he can, with the blood gurgling up in his throat. He doesn't have the lungs to moan with yet so he only chokes while Sumin takes him down to the hilt; cleans him up with his tongue in that way that never fails to make him cry. He's been crying for a long time; it's a wonder how he hasn't dropped from dehydration yet. Another thing to worry about later, he supposes. 

Sumin's teeth sink into his inner thigh hard enough to make him gasp—a proper gasp with air mixed in the blood this time—as if the cruel flick to his weeping cockhead wasn't enough to get his attention. 

"Stay with me, jagi. I'm not finished with you yet." he growls. Don't be, Jinsik begs internally; I'm yours forever, keep cutting until there's nothing left, just don't ever finish with me. Don't leave, don't grow bored of me. There's still too much blood built up in Jinsik's throat for him to say it out loud, so he hopes his gurgling whine will suffice. "Good boy," Sumin purrs. He kisses the head where he had flicked him, wet and open-mouthed in time with his hand jacking him off like something out of his most filthy wet dream. 

It isn't much longer before Jinsik is making a mess of himself under his beloved's lips; streaks of white joining the red already soaking his face and dripping down into a pretty pink that Sumin eagerly laps up. He's the perfect picture of debauched as he reaches for the knife again, and his voice is thoroughly wrecked when he speaks again: "Once you have your lungs back, I want to ask you something." 

He asks about as casually as one would talk about the weather, as if Jinsik isn't lying slit-throat and boneless on his bloodied sheets. He had already been light-headed from the blood gathered in his throat; that combined with his orgasm has him teetering dangerously close to unconsciousness. Not that he would mind if Sumin kept going while he was out, but… 

With the last vestige of his strength, he rolls onto his side so the near waterfall of his own blood can drain out of his mouth. It flows past their sheets onto the floor like a tide, cresting and receding in time with his body's weak struggles to keep his airways clear. Sumin just laughs fondly at his pain, too preoccupied with gathering the bloody cum from his face on his fingers and licking it off. 

"Go ahead," Jinsik wheezes, about as smoothly as if he had swallowed a shot of acid. There's still an odd bubbling sound to his words, but at least he's properly audible now. "You know that I'd let you do anything to me as long as you still love me, right?" 

"I know, and I do. God, I love you, Jinsik." The use of his name rather than the petname—rather generic, still thrilling when it came from Sumin's lips—stings ever so slightly until Sumin crawls up the bloody bed to kiss him. Jinsik would have expected anything other than the tenderness that Sumin presses to his lips. He kisses him like it's their wedding night, Jinsik's delirious brain supplies; and oh, how he would love for that to be reality. He'd wear the most pristine white just so Sumin could tear him apart and permanently dye it red. He faintly registers that he's been doing it to Sumin this entire time; every thrust of his knife has pulled another spray of red to stain the white shirt that he's still wearing. Jinsik's love has nearly drenched him. Is there something he's forgetting? 

"Yeobo," he whimpers against Sumin's lips. "Didn't you want to ask me something?" 

"Huh?" Sumin slurs. There's a mess of red smudged all over his face when he pulls back; swaying. Drunk on him. "Oh, right. I just…" He takes Jinsik's wrists and pins then above his head with surprising speed. "I wanna claim you, jagi. Can I, can I?" Jinsik spots the knife gleaming above him in Sumin's free hand. Not a threat, just a promise waiting on Jinsik's approval. 

"Please."

Sumin plunges the knife down as soon as the word leaves Jinsik's lips. Three times it parts the soft skin of Jinsik's arm, twisting about inside his flesh and between his bones. Twice it penetrates Jinsik's throat, deep enough to make him gag against its sharp edge. 

"Mine... You're all mine, jagiya," Sumin purrs between fervent kisses to Jinsik's bleeding neck. 

"Yours," Jinsik chokes out through another gush of blood. It runs down his lips and stains his skin in an unending river, his blessing that had once been a curse and is now a blessing again. His embrace tightens around Sumin's back and pulls the wound in his arm wider. More blood pours down his skin and stains Sumin's white shirt; how ironic that his life should touch Sumin like this. His love touches Sumin like this.

"I love you." Sumin's words are punctuated with the final thrust of his knife between Jinsik's ribs and piercing his heart. "I'm keeping you like this forever." 

Jinsik comes again with a broken cry. Both Sumin’s words and his knife reach deeper inside him than anything that Jinsik’s past lovers have touched him with and it’s more than he can bear, more than he's ever taken at once. Sumin watches him fall apart with nothing short of wonder. 

"Here I was thinking it was hard to come from being penetrated," he mutters under his breath; a joke meant only for himself. 

"You—" Jinsik spits out yet another mouthful of blood. "—clearly underestimate me." A devious idea lights up in his head once Sumin's joke registers and he grins up at him, his tongue curling around his teeth. "Want to fuck me with that knife?"

Sumin startles and pulls it halfway out, blood spurting out around it with every bump of its rough handle against his ribs. Jinsik, already trembling from oversensitivity, cries out in pleasure. Light-headed again from blood loss, Jinsik slurs out another joke. "So nice of you to use one with a ridged handle, yeobo. Feels sooo good inside me~" 

Sumin thrusts the knife back inside him with an endeared huff. 

"You're insane," he sighs over Jinsik's choked moan. "Good thing I am too, I had a similar idea." He pulls the knife all the way out before Jinsik can ask about it, leaving him to bleed while he finally strips off his bloodstained clothes. 

Sumin's naked body is truly a sight to behold. He's still decently toned despite being softer than Jinsik from more time spent at an easel than the gym, his strength stemming from a childhood spent playing sports out in the sun. He still casually indulges every time the weather permits him, his clumsy legs and arms easily carrying him through match after match that Jinsik is all too content to watch. 

Jinsik lets Sumin manhandle him farther up the bed and prop him against the soaked pillows, woozy from what little blood he has left in him rushing back down to his dick. 

"Like what you see, jagi?" 

Black spots dance about in Jinsik's already-blurred vision, but he nods anyway. He'll be sure to get on his knees to properly worship Sumin's cock later when he can actually see it. 

"That's a relief, I was getting self-conscious after seeing you." Jinsik can only manage a whine in protest. "I know, I know, you want to try and brush me off. Not going to happen, jagi." Sumin's blurry silhouette moves again, likely reaching for the knife. Sure enough, the blood-warmed metal presses against the skin under Jinsik's ribs a moment later. "You can get back at me later, just let me have this for now."

His words are punctuated by a thrust of the knife into Jinsik's skin, beneath and up into the soft flesh under his bones. He pulls it out and turns it perpendicular to its previous angle, driving it in again to widen the wound while Jinsik cries and writhes under him. Jinsik can faintly see his blood staining Sumin's skin with his hazy eyes. His bleeding heart has yet to heal—not that it could with Sumin's fingers working their way inside it. It squirts red halfway to Sumin's elbow, soaking it in blood that he then smears all over his cock. Lubing himself up. Oh, is he going to—

The answer to Jinsik's unspoken question comes with Sumin lining himself up with the dripping hole under his ribs and pushing his way between Jinsik's organs. The pressure against his freshly-regenerated lungs punches a breathless moan from him and he nearly blacks out, kept conscious only by the wave of pleasure that overtakes him. Sumin doesn't stop until he's buried to the hilt and Jinsik swears his dick is touching his heart, the intrusion twitching in time with his pounding pulse. While the knife had done a decent enough job at prepping him, his flesh still stretches around Sumin's cock in a way that has Jinsik's head spinning. 

"Fuck, jagi," Sumin groans. He knocks his head against the wall, fighting to keep his ragged breath steady. "You're so wet for me. M'not gonna last long like this." Jinsik heart—while physically bleeding—metaphorically soars at the admission. He affects Sumin this much?

"Hurry 'n fuck me then," Jinsik slurs. "Dare you t'come inside." 

"You're gonna kill me," Sumin whines, high and wrecked. "You're seriously going to fucking kill me." He starts moving after a moment's hesitation, his hands braced against his headboard for leverage. 

He fucks Jinsik slow but deep, each thrust touching his heart and punching a bloody, breathless moan from him. Jinsik's body convulses with every intrusion, each nerve set alight in his overstimulation. 

"You feel so good around me," Sumin moans. "Always so good for me." His rhythm starts to grow sloppy as he chases his own pleasure. "Fuck, I love you so much." 

Sumin's praise—along with the sensory overload that he's putting Jinsik through—finally tips him over the edge yet again, his neglected cock coming untouched for the second time tonight. 

"Sumin—yeobo—please," Jinsik cries, his voice trembling as he shakes through his orgasm. "Use me. Inside." 

Sumin's only response is a curse under his breath and a change of pace, fast and hard until there's a wet slapping sound accompanying his thrusts. Something tears inside Jinsik at the same time Sumin stills with a low groan, coming hot and heavy under Jinsik's ribs until it overflows. Jinsik can faintly feel it coating his heart and can't help the delirious smile that spreads across his face. No one else has ever had him this way. No one else ever will. 

"I love you," Sumin moans, breathless and shaky. "I love you so fucking much." 

Cum and blood gushes from Jinsik's ruined hole in a pink tide when Sumin pulls out of him. He rushes to lap it up, green hair staining red the instant his head rests against Jinsik's chest. 

"Love you too," Jinsik sighs. "More than anything." 

Sumin kisses him then, soft and sweet and tasting like both of them. Jinsik chases after it, too weak to do much more than suck it off Sumin's tongue while he recovers. His skin grows back together first and seals Sumin's release inside him, safe and warm in his chest.

Realistically he knows his body will reject it eventually, but at least for now he's content with knowing that he has a part of Sumin right next to his heart for the night. 

[complete-in-ix]

Let Your Heart Speak Up

Rated: G Warning(s): None

Description: On the way home after their SpoTV interview, Jinsik has something to get off his chest to tell his dear sweetheart. Now, if only his brain and body could cooperate with him to articulate it... Thankfully Sumin is willing to do the cooperation for both of them.

(Read on AO3)

"Why did you do that?" Jinsik whines. It's been hours since Sumin had damn near aired out their entire relationship to their whole fanbase. Perhaps he—and the rest of the group—have forgotten about it by now, but it had been pinballing in Jinsik's head since the praise first left Sumin's lips.

"Do what?" As predicted, Sumin is completely oblivious to what he does to Jinsik. It's a wonder how he can't feel Jinsik's heart hammering from where his head rests on Jinsik's shoulder. Jinsik's arm is wrapped around him, an unintentional mirror to how they had been before. The only difference is that there are no cameras this time, no one focused on them in this company van where the others are either asleep or have earbuds in. Here, they can be sweeter on each other.

"The—" Jinsik's throat closes on its own accord. He makes an indignant noise in lieu of finishing his sentence, digging his fingers into Sumin's shoulder; their little signal when Jinsik has something to say but can't bring himself to speak. Sumin gives a questioning hum. A quick glance into his eyes shows some muted concern, though he doesn't push Jinsik for an answer. He's always so patient even when Jinsik is having trouble putting up with himself, so understanding when Jinsik is so overwhelmed he can do nothing but cry. Since when has he gotten so lucky?

"Did I do something wrong, jagi?" Sumin starts to pull away from Jinsik, drawing back to get a better look at him. Jinsik curses at himself for his inability to communicate properly while worked up. He shakes his head, pulling Sumin back down into his arms. His weight comforts him enough that he can try again, huffing a deep breath against Sumin's hair.

"Earlier, when you were..." he flails for the words to finish his sentence, all his thoughts flying past in flashes. "Praising me. I-I mean, we were supposed to be doing a compliment relay, but you were still so..." He shrugs. "Open about it. You sounded like you really loved me."

"I do!" Sumin barrels on before Jinsik can get on him about people potentially hearing and their careers being on the line. "I wouldn't say those things if I didn't mean them. That would be cruel to you." His tone softens when Minjae gives them a funny look, both to soothe their leader's worries and to keep their secrets private. "Times have changed, we don't have to worry about that kind of thing anymore. Roady are very accepting, did you know that? They'll have our backs."

"Okay," Jinsik relents. "Just... I don't know, warn me next time? You surprised me, I would have actually responded properly if I knew you were going to say all that." He chews at the inside of his lip, a habit that he doesn't notice until Sumin pokes his cheek.

"Oh, jagi. Are you embarrassed because you got too flustered to say anything to me?" Sumin chases Jinsik's eyes until they meet, Jinsik catching a glimpse of a bright smile before he looks away again.

"Maybe," Jinsik mutters. "It's not that I don't like it, I just... I need time to prepare a response." He squeezes Sumin's shoulder again, his thoughts too frazzled to put them into words. Sumin hums in understanding. He taps at the notes on his phone, falling silent in solidarity with Jinsik going nonverbal. That's another thing that he loves about Sumin; he never holds any expectations for Jinsik to run himself ragged running at his speed. He slows down to Jinsik's level.

"I'm glad you told me, I'll keep that in mind <3" Sumin holds up his phone to Jinsik, the cursor blinking on another line for Jinsik's response.

"Ily :( You're too sweet to me" Jinsik types out with his free hand, holding it within Sumin's view. After a moment, he adds; "Kiss me?"

Sumin huffs out a laugh upon reading it. Instead of typing out a reply when Jinsik hands his phone back to him, he pockets it and pulls Jinsik in.

[complete-in-ix]

You've Got Diamonds For Teeth, My Love

Rated: M

Warning(s): Suggestive. Very suggestive. No smut, though

Description: Today is supposed to be a quiet day; one of the only days that could vaguely be considered "free time" so close to their comeback. Sumin had planned to spend it quietly in Jinsik's company, the two of them working on their own projects while in each other's orbit, because that's how most of their dates go to begin with, so why not kill two birds with one stone?

Unfortunately, Sumin's feelings—some new and some still unsaid from months ago—prove to be too much of a distraction for him. Then again, if it leads to them both discovering new things about each other, is it really such a bad thing?

(Read on Ao3)

Note if you don't use ao3 and can't see the notes I put there: I made Sumin trans and Jinsik autistic because I'm autistic and trans and I say so. I did the same thing with Jinsik in LYHSU, again because I'm autistic and I see him with my autistic eyes, however it should go without saying that I am not diagnosing him nor am I clocking Sumin, this is just my fun projection onto their stage personas.

It's unusually quiet in the dorms today. Minjae is holed up in his room, no doubt having been up since the previous night working on his own projects. Junmin has been dragged out by the four of the 05s for a day out on the town, though he only agreed to it on the condition that they come straight back home if they're spotted. All the better, really, considering their comeback is in less than a week. Speaking of the comeback, Hyunwoo has elected to stay in the practice rooms to clean up some choreo details that he claimed to be lacking in. Sumin thinks he's doing fine—especially considering his comparatively late start—but decided not to argue as he left. Jinsik is staying home to keep Junghoon company, so that leaves Sumin with the opportunity to be completely—well, almost—alone with his boyfriend for a whole day. It's not like they won't be getting anything done anyway; Sumin's got his notebook in his lap that he's drafting a new song in while Jinsik goes over his vocals.

Jinsik's voice is fucking gorgeous. Even while just going through warmups, he has Sumin mesmerized. It might be a bad thing, considering that he has projects to work on, but it's fine. There's no deadline yet, so he can afford to bask in his love a little longer. At this point, he's sure most Roadies have caught on to their relationship with how much he sings his praise for Jinsik's... Everything, really—not to mention their whole "honey-darling" thing getting exposed early on. It's not like he minds. From what he's seen while stalking his own searches, those who have caught on are at least graciously staying silent for their sake or are thinking that they're imagining things.

"Koong, koong, yeah no turning back~" Jinsik changes up his run at the end this time. He's surprised himself with how nice it sounds compared to his other practice runs, if the way he perks up like a happy puppy has anything to show for it. Sumin hides his smile behind his notebook. He'd hate to distract Jinsik with his feelings—which are very much not conducive to his practicing! Still, he can't resist the urge to compliment him.

"You should do that the next time we perform it live, jagi. Roady will go wild for it," he comments. He watches the blush dust Jinsik's cheeks, accompanied by that flustered half-smile he always has whenever someone praises him unexpectedly. Jinsik knocks his foot against his from the other side of the couch they've been sharing.

"Stop it. They'll go wilder for your killing scream—they have been, actually. Did you see how they reacted to the teaser?" Ah, Jinsik, humble and deflecting the praise as always. Good thing Sumin is persistent enough to keep laying it on until Jinsik accepts it.

"I did. I couldn't have done it without your voice leading me in, though." Sumin closes his notebook to seal his words in. He isn't going to get much work done at this point, anyway. Jinsik makes a sort of whining noise in complaint, staring off somewhere to the side instead of meeting Sumin's eyes. That's fine by Sumin, he knows how Jinsik is with eye contact. He won't force him. "I mean it! You have a really impressive high note before I scream anyway, Roady will love a double kill like that! I love it!" He crawls over to Jinsik's side of the couch, stopping just short of his lap. "I love you~ " he adds, just because he can.

"You're distracting me from my practice," Jinsik mutters, though his smile is audible in his words. He continues before Sumin can respond. "I don't mind, though. I was running words—out of the—running of—" he cuts himself off with an incoherent jumble of half-words, his tongue betraying him yet again. Cute.

"Take your time, jagi." Sumin reaches out to take Jinsik's hand, squeezing it in reassurance. Jinsik squeezes it back, fumbling with his free hand for his phone. He taps something out on his notes, passing it to Sumin after a moment.

"Was running out of words for 2day neway, if I kept going I wouldn't want 2 talk when the others get home :(" it says. Understandable, he's been practicing all their previous releases and every song on their upcoming comeback since they had finished lunch. Sumin expresses this much in the reply he types out on another line.

"That's fair, you've been at it for a while now. The others will understand though, you don't have to worry about that!" He passes Jinsik's phone back to him, watching his face while he waits for the reply. Jinsik's eyebrows furrow, and those pretty lips twist into a pout.

"Yea bt I wanna talk 2 them :( Idk it jst feels kinda unfair if I'm 2 tired 2 talk" Jinsik looks up at Sumin like a kicked puppy when he passes the phone back to him. Sumin's heart lurches in his chest. Jinsik is truly too sweet for this world.

"Jagiya, everyone would rather you be quiet and comfortable than force yourself to talk if you don't want to! If anyone gives you trouble for it, I'll scold them >:(" Jinsik's face breaks into a smile upon reading Sumin's reply. God, that smile. Sumin had already been enamored the moment he saw it. If Jinsik had looked like an untouchable angel before he smiled, then after he did, he looked like the sun's warmth personified; and Sumin was freezing . The way his eyes curve up into crescent moons, those adorable dimples, and his teeth... Those fucking teeth. So straight and white and a subtle sort of sharp that Sumin sort of really wants to feel sinking into his skin. He shakes the thought out of his head just in time for Jinsik to pass his phone back to him.

"You'll blow out everyone's ears lol" Sumin has to take a second to recall what they had just been talking about, having gotten more than a little caught up in his own head. Jinsik giggles as Sumin fumbles to reply. What can he say, at this point? Surely Jinsik has caught on to the state he's in, right?

"Uh. Sorry, head empty," Sumin stammers out loud, handing Jinsik's phone back to him with the cursor blinking on an empty line. Jinsik can't stop giggling as he types up his next message. Sumin bites his lip to hold back the rush of feelings that bubble up in his chest at the sound, all those soft and gushy sweet nothings that the others make fun of him for every time he lets them slip around them. It's not like he's embarrassed to be this in love, it's just... This is a side that only Jinsik can unlock. It's only fair that only Jinsik can see it.

"U were the one trying to distract me and now here u are~ U didn't even want to work on anything, did u? 🤨" Jinsik keeps grinning at him when he passes his phone over, his tongue sticking out from between his teeth like a playful puppy. This is not helping Sumin out of the pit he's falling into!

"I did, I was working on things!" Sumin whines out loud, pulling another round of giggles from Jinsik. Fuck it, might as well bite the bullet.

"But yeah I guess you're right... Since we're both distracted, can I just kiss you instead?" This time, Sumin is the one who can't face Jinsik while passing the phone back. It's sort of stupid how flustered he still gets even after they've been together for almost a year now. Then again, even after this long, Jinsik still finds new ways to thrill him.

Like now, when Jinsik's pocketing his phone instead of typing a new message and pulling Sumin the rest of the way into his lap. He reaches up to cup Sumin's face with his free hand, his thumb gently tracing over his lip in a silent request. Sumin's breath hitches.

"Please," he whispers. There's barely any space between them now, yet it's also far too much. Jinsik huffs out a laugh into that minute chasm between them. 

He knocks his forehead against Sumin's—most likely to tease him for still being too shy to initiate it when he had been the one to ask for a kiss to begin with—and finally closes the distance between them.

Sumin melts into him instantly. Jinsik smiles against his lips, soft and sweet. It shouldn't be this easy to wind him up, but here he is falling apart just from one kiss and the warmth of Jinsik's hand on his face. Then again, it's been quite a while since they've had time to be alone together, and it'll be even longer until they get this chance again. Best savour the chance while they have it.

Sumin sighs against Jinsik's lips, still so soft against his own even though he feels like a dog straining at its leash. Jinsik takes it as a sign to deepen the kiss, tilting his head and slotting their lips together until Sumin's head is spinning.

"Jagi," he all but whimpers. Jinsik hums in response, those deep brown eyes staring into his with so much unbridled love that Sumin's breath gets knocked straight from his chest. Not the best thing to happen considering he had broken the kiss to catch it, but that doesn't matter. His want for oxygen is irrelevant, he needs Jinsik. It must be obvious with the way Jinsik grins at him, his tongue curling around his canines and setting Sumin's heart alight.

"I really want you to bite me," Sumin blurts out, breathless and dazed. Jinsik gives a choked yelp, drawing back in surprise. He doesn't push Sumin away, at least. "I-I mean! I just—um." Sumin flails for the right words to explain himself, looking everywhere but Jinsik's flushed face. "I really like your teeth?"

Nailed it.

Jinsik gives a flustered squeak, his hands instinctively coming up to cover his mouth. Sumin has half a mind to stop him but refrains. Jinsik has never handled being suddenly restrained very well.

"Please don't misunderstand, it's just... I've been thinking about it for a while—”

“I’d say it was Jinsik,” Sumin had said upon being asked who in his team should be MVP for short-forms. “At first he seemed a bit awkward, but as time went by he started to relax and his charm started to come out.” At this point, he had known he was starting to ramble. He knew it could be risky for him to spill his feelings so obviously, but perhaps if he kept his face neutral, made sure his tone was even—something he was much better at than the boy whose heart is in his hands—then perhaps it would be okay. “His teeth are so even, so when he was telling the camera his superpower and showing them off, it was so ravishing that I picked him.” Okay. That was definitely way too much to say. He at least managed to say it neutrally enough that the PDs behind the camera didn’t notice anything off. His rambling made it into the final cut of the episode, interspersed with cuts of Jinsik’s gorgeous smile highlighted by some ridiculous glitter filter. Thank fuck he at least kept it together externally in front of the cameras. Sumin still remembers what it was like to actually watch Jinsik grin like that in person; his eyes helplessly drawn to the way his tongue lolled out of his mouth while he stuttered and reset his mouth before retaking yet another line, grinning all the while. Once he noticed, he couldn’t stop. It was killing him.

“—and I just think I would like it?" 

Sumin's doing an awful job at sounding sure of himself. Jinsik seems to agree, staring up at him like he's sprouted a tail. He drops Sumin's gaze after a moment. Sumin opens his mouth to explain further or drop the subject only to find all his words stolen from him at the sight of Jinsik lowering his hands.

Jinsik's tongue traces his teeth, slow and unsure. He gently bites down once he reaches his canine, its sharp point sinking into his flesh. Sumin's throat goes dry. Jinsik winces in pain, shutting his mouth and staring up at Sumin like he's been handed a gun and told to shoot. He doesn't let the eye contact waver this time, so Sumin knows it's serious.

"You won't hurt me, jagi. Your tongue is more sensitive than—" Sumin clears his throat to brace himself. "—I dunno, my neck." Fuck. Still stumbled. Jinsik drops his gaze, staring down at the coffee table instead. He seems to be fighting with himself over Sumin's suggestion. Sumin gives him another to alleviate his worry and fill the silence between them—not like they'd been especially loud before, he hopes. "I won't force you if you don't want to do it. You do know that applies to everything I ask you, right? If you say no, I won't be mad."

Jinsik nods slowly, his resolve finally returning to his eyes when he locks them with Sumin's again. He takes Sumin's hand, those pretty fingers wrapping around his wrist and bringing it up to his face. Sumin doesn't pull away, half suspecting Jinsik's intentions. As predicted, he presses his kiss-red lips to Sumin's fingers. Then, as not predicted, he parts them to place the first two fingertips between his teeth—not biting down yet, just holding them there. He hasn't taken his eyes off Sumin's for this entire exchange. The contrast between Jinsik's shy doe eyes asking him for permission and the blunt presence of his teeth already on Sumin's skin is so much hotter than he ever would have imagined.

"Yeah," Sumin chokes out, "go ahead." The words are thick in his throat and he's only half aware that they've even gotten out of him. Is this how Jinsik feels when he gets tongue-tied?

He doesn't have any time to contemplate the question before Jinsik's biting down; slowly at first, an almost imperceptible pressure that quickly blooms into twin pinpricks of pleasure-pain once he applies some real force into it. Sumin just barely bites down the whine bubbling up in his throat, but can't hide the shiver that rattles down his entire body. Jinsik releases him almost immediately, his eyes darting about in panic. Sumin rushes to reassure him.

"It's okay, I'm okay! It doesn't hurt," he soothes. "You can do it harder, I like it." His face burns with the admission, but it's not like he was lying. Jinsik raises his eyebrow, taking Sumin up on the challenge.

This time, he takes Sumin's fingers down to the second knuckle, parting them with his tongue until they're both directly between his teeth. He gives less warning and more force this time, emboldened by his first success.

Sumin can't hide his moan this time, slapping his free hand over his mouth to at least muffle the sound. Something darkens in Jinsik's eyes, reminiscent of the devil that Sumin sometimes sees while watching his fancams. He loosens his hold for just a second to let Sumin recover before closing his jaws around him again—the hardest bite yet. This one has Sumin slumping against the couch, weak with the want that's been burning in his stomach.

"What the fuck? " Hyunwoo's voice sounds from behind them. The combined force of Sumin and Jinsik's flinching nearly sends Sumin tumbling to the floor, saved only by Jinsik's arm around his waist.

"Can you not sneak up on me like that—" Sumin hisses, whipping around to glare at Hyunwoo. He hides his hand—his first two fingers slightly slick with spit—as quickly as he can, but the damage has been done.

"Can you not do that? At least not on the couch that we have to share?" Hyunwoo retorts. "You know what, I don't even want to know what you guys were doing, if you're not gonna stop, just take it to a room!" he storms off before Sumin can snap back at him. It doesn't stop Sumin from hissing a: "We weren't planning to do anything, but fine!" after him under his breath. He turns back to face Jinsik after a moment, somewhat shaky now that the adrenaline rush—both from being bitten and from getting caught—is starting to wear off. Jinsik gladly welcomes him back into his arms to hide. There's a slight shifting of Jinsik taking his phone back out of his pocket, and he taps Sumin's shoulder shortly after.

"Doesn't him leaving sort of defeat the point of us getting a room?" Sumin barks out a laugh upon reading Jinsik's message. Jinsik whines in complaint, lightly smacking Sumin's arm with his phone.

"Ah, sorry, I wasn't laughing at you," Sumin placates. He presses a kiss to Jinsik's cheek in apology, Jinsik melting against him in acceptance. "You're right, but we should probably move anyway. Now that Hyunwoo's home, we'll probably have more interruptions if we stay out here." Sumin is loath to leave the warmth of Jinsik's embrace, but he forces himself up and off the couch. "Do you want to keep going? We don't have to, I'll get back to work if you don't." Jinsik accepts the hand that Sumin holds out to help him up, although he just clings to Sumin in favour of going anywhere else. Sumin makes a questioning noise, unsure of whether he should leave Jinsik be or drag him to his room. He'd be lying if he said he didn't prefer the latter over the former, but he'd rather let Jinsik control the pace of their relationship.

"My room is farther from the others, let's go there," Jinsik's next message says, followed by: "I don't want to stop." The heat in Sumin's stomach—that had been significantly dampened by Hyunwoo's return—comes roaring back to life as he reads it.

All the words that he could say in response get caught in his throat at once, so he leans in to kiss Jinsik instead. Jinsik is quick to reciprocate, pulling him in by the waist and swiping his tongue over Sumin's lips.

Oh. He's eager.

Sumin's knees nearly give out on him at the realization, held up only by Jinsik's hold on him. They should probably get to Jinsik's room, fast.

"Mmh—jagi, come on," Sumin manages to stammer in between kisses. "Let's get to your room before someone else walks in." Jinsik growls against him in complaint, but he eventually relents, pulling back for just long enough to drag Sumin to his room and close the door behind them. As soon as the door clicks shut, Jinsik is back on him, all but tackling him onto his bed—thank god he's on the bottom bunk—and crashing their lips together again.

Sumin easily melts under him, pliant and weak for his enthusiasm. Jinsik has always thrown his all into expressing his feelings; crying when he's sad, laughing when he's happy—Sumin has yet to see what would happen if he gets angry, but just the thought of it sends a thrill down his spine like no other. This, though... Jinsik kisses him like he wants to eat him alive, all teeth and tongue that burns his desire into Sumin's very soul.

Jinsik wants him.

The realization has Sumin muffling a moan into Jinsik's mouth, blindly grasping at his cardigan to ground himself. Jinsik huffs a laugh against his lips, sultry and self-satisfied. He must be on a mission to single-handedly kill Sumin today. He guides Sumin a little farther up the bed to settle in next to him, breaking the kiss to slip the cardigan off. Sumin chokes on his own breath.

"Uh," he stammers. Perfectly articulate! Okay, can he really be blamed for losing his grasp on language at the sight of his boyfriend's arms? First of all, Jinsik is his boyfriend , second, he may not be as big of a gym rat as Minjae-hyung or Hunter but his arms are fucking nice . Third of all, Jinsik is kissing him again, so he has no need for words now, anyway. Jinsik keeps it relatively chaste this time, leaving Sumin to catch his breath while he leaves a line of kisses down his jaw leading down to his neck. Ah, right. He'd mentioned that earlier. Jinsik mouths over Sumin's pulse point, most likely able to feel his heart pounding through the sensitive skin there. Sumin digs his hand into the sheets, too shy to reach out and grab for Jinsik's waist despite their proximity. He's burning up, he realizes.

"Jagi—ah—hold on," Sumin groans, his speech slurred by the heat under his collar and Jinsik's ministrations. Jinsik immediately pulls back, his eyes shining with muted concern. It does little to mask how his pupils are blown wide open, something dark burning behind them that has Sumin biting back a whimper. He pulls himself together just enough to strip himself of his hoodie; the material much too thick and heat-trapping for what he's doing. Besides, he wants to feel Jinsik's touch. "Sorry, got too hot," he mutters, tossing it somewhere across the room.

Jinsik stares at him with nothing short of hunger . He still has a t-shirt on—they both do—but Jinsik's gaze is so intense that it feels like he can see straight through it; past his skin right to his jackhammering heart. Suddenly shy under Jinsik's scrutiny, Sumin crosses his arms over his chest, digging his fingers into his arms to hide his self-consciousness.

"What? My body isn't that built, is it?" he asks. He gives Jinsik a hopefully lighthearted smile, his eyes dropping away from Jinsik's eyes; down to his flushed cheeks, his kiss-swollen lips parted to reveal those fucking perfect teeth, the bob of his Adam's apple, the pretty jut of his collarbones. No matter where he looks, he can still feel Jinsik's gaze raking up and down his body like a floodlight.

Is this why Jinsik avoids eye contact all the time?  He'd once told Sumin that it feels too personal, too searching when other people look him in the eye. Sumin is sure that had been true, but perhaps Jinsik had also been protecting everyone else from himself. If he feels like this just from Jinsik looking at his body, surely he would combust if their eyes meet. He manages to hide his eyes until Jinsik reaches out for him again, grasping his hand and gently pulling it away from where he had been digging his nails into his arm. He hadn't even noticed the pain until it was gone. He lets his other arm drop, forcing the tension to bleed out from his shoulders so Jinsik knows he still has a green light.

"Sumin," Jinsik sighs, his voice low and ever so slightly rough from disuse. Sumin's eyes snap back up to meet his; if he's speaking again, it's serious. Jinsik's eyes are fathomlessly deep pools of love and desire, flecks of concern flashing within the depths. Sumin's breath is punched from his chest. "You're beautiful. It doesn't matter how built your body is, I still want it."

Sumin chokes on his own breath. Jinsik does too, if the panicked tongue-tied noises that accompany Sumin's wheezing have anything to show for it.

"I mean—not like that, I didn't—yes like that but—" Jinsik's half-sentence ends in a whine that he muffles into his free hand. Sumin lets out a flustered laugh, squeezing Jinsik's hand in reassurance.

"It's okay, I get what you mean. Do you want to keep going?" Sumin asks, his smile coming naturally now that some of the tension between them has dissolved. "You don't have to say it out loud, just kiss me if you do."

Jinsik wastes no time in diving right back in, twisting his hand so he can entwine his fingers with Sumin's as their lips meet. He's smiling against Sumin's lips, kissing him with a familiar spark behind it that has Sumin's heart swooping. He's grown more daring with this latest break, his free hand seeking out Sumin's and guiding it to his own waist. Sumin flails for half a second until Jinsik's tongue returns and he's gladly digging his fingers into that soft warmth. He's tempted to dip his hand under the fabric between him and Jinsik's skin, feel the way his muscles tense under him, maybe dig his nails in and leave marks somewhere the stylists won't see. He refrains. Better to let Jinsik make the first move on that front.

As if on cue, Jinsik's free hand slips under his shirt—not far, just his fingertips skimming over the jut of his hip. Sumin still feels sparks from his touch. Jinsik starts to pull back—most likely to check if that's okay with him—and Sumin surges up to reconnect them. This is more than okay with him, Jinsik could do pretty much whatever he wanted and Sumin would let him.

"Please," he whispers, in case Jinsik needs more clarity. Jinsik grins at him, somehow adorable and absolutely wicked at the same time. He gestures for Sumin to wait, pushing himself up to the headboard and propping himself up with his pillow. Heat rushes to Sumin's face. He can't possibly mean—! All of Sumin's thoughts fracture into nothing when Jinsik makes a "come hither" movement with his fingers. That has absolutely no right to be as hot as it is! Sumin bites back a fucking mewl as he crawls into Jinsik's lap, heat pooling honey-slow in his stomach. He settles a safe distance from Jinsik—close enough to not risk falling off, but still far enough for some breathing room just in case—hyper aware of how his legs are bracketing Jinsik's hips.

Contrasting Sumin's expectations, Jinsik doesn't immediately start digging into him. He's slow instead, almost reverent in the way he slides his hands up Sumin's thighs and up his shirt. Sumin lets out a shaky sigh as those pretty hands skirt over his hips, one hand settling at his waist and the other continuing up to his chest until he can trace the scars there. He's painfully gentle, glancing up into Sumin's eyes as his fingers follow the lines left by Sumin's surgeon.

Jinsik tilts his head up at him. He already knows about this aspect of Sumin's life, but they've never really gone into extensive detail about it. Sumin can see the questions drifting about in the sea of love that are Jinsik's eyes. Is it okay to touch you here? Did it hurt? What was it like, having to deal with this before? Sumin only nods to answer the first, the rest can come later.

"Come here, jagi," Sumin murmurs. "Don't be shy." He drapes his arms around Jinsik's neck, playing with the collar of his shirt. He sort of wants to take it off him, expose the unmarred skin underneath and ravage him until he's fully marked up as his and only his. He refrains, though. He'll wait for Jinsik to let him first, and he has plenty of patience.

Jinsik, ever the sweet boyfriend, pulls Sumin into a hug. He sighs against the crook of Sumin's neck, soft lips brushing over his throat. Sumin shivers under him, yet again reminded of the sharp teeth hidden behind that softness.

"Love you," Jinsik whispers, and then he's pressing a kiss to Sumin's pulse point and sinking those teeth in.

"Ah—!" Sumin's gasp is far too loud for the space they're in; although it's not like he's in any state to care. He tangles his fingers into Jinsik's hair to hold him there, even when it starts to hurt. Jinsik releases him right when it's at the edge of too much, lapping his tongue over the bite like some kind of beast. Sumin keens, tilting his head to give Jinsik better access.

Jinsik practically purrs , kissing and biting his way down Sumin's neck until he's filling the room with his gasps and bitten-off moans. He soothes every bite with his tongue, the hand on Sumin's waist tracing patterns into his skin to ground him as he squirms.

"Love you," Jinsik whispers after a particularly hard bite. "Love you so much."

The hand that had been tracing his scars comes to rest over Sumin's heart, perhaps the only thing keeping it from beating out of his chest. Sumin would let him take it out of its cage any day, hold him while it bleeds and beats just for him. A year earlier, he would have been scared to be so completely at Jinsik's mercy; now it just thrills him all the more. Jinsik is good to him—too good, sometimes—he can handle a little pain.

"I love you too," Sumin sighs. "More than I can ever say." Jinsik makes a soft noise of dissent. He takes his hand out from under Sumin's shirt to press a finger to his lips. Sumin understands it perfectly: "Don't say it, then. Just show me."

He does exactly that, entwining his hand with Jinsik's and kissing him hard. Jinsik hums appreciatively against his lips, opening up to his mercy. Sumin nearly nicks his tongue against Jinsik's teeth, drawing a low moan from his boyfriend.

Oh. So this is how he had been feeling.

Sumin's world tints pink upon this first taste of control; he'd very much like to drown in it now that he knows the hold he has over Jinsik. He hardly lets himself up to breathe, diving in deeper every time he returns. With the way he now leans over Jinsik, he's forced to guide his hands to his hips to avoid hurting Jinsik's wrist; he has to dig his fingers in to ground himself at some points. Sumin hopes they leave bruises.

He shifts a little so he can return the favour, bracing Jinsik's neck with one hand while the other snakes up the side of Jinsik's shirt. He openly moans into Jinsik's mouth when he reaches the dip of his waist, toned and irresistible. He's going to have a hard time keeping his hands off once tonight is over. Jinsik shivers, ticklish under his touch. Sumin itches to dig his nails in. Would Jinsik like it as much as he likes Jinsik's grip on his hips? Would he squirm away from his hand, breaking the kiss to laugh? He lightly scratches down Jinsik's waist, just to test the waters. 

Jinsik jolts at the contact, breaking the kiss with a gasp. Sumin's halfway to pulling back to ask if he's okay until Jinsik's squeezing his hips so hard they definitely bruise. The noise he makes is so desperate that there's no way that Sumin could possibly misinterpret it—especially not when accompanied by the pleading look in those dewy eyes.

"Do you like that, jagi?" he coos, even though he already knows the answer. Jinsik nods so hard that he nearly clocks Sumin in the jaw if not for his quick reflexes. He presses quick, insistent kisses all along Sumin's jaw; his form of begging when he isn't in the mood to speak. Fuck, he's so cute. Sumin obliges before Jinsik can start whining, leaning down to claim his lips and his waist this time. The kiss starts off gentle, a stark contrast to the blunt scrape of his nails in Jinsik's skin.

It's hard not to be a little rough from then onward. Jinsik's reactions are intoxicating; arching into Sumin's touch the harder and higher up his chest that he scratches, moaning into Sumin's mouth until he's sucking on Sumin's tongue to muffle himself. Sumin feels fucking feral. The heat that had been smoldering in his stomach has long blazed into something out of control, throbbing dully deep inside him to the beat of his racing heart. Jinsik is just as hot—both figuratively and literally—but it doesn't stop Sumin from pulling himself ever closer into his lap. He wants to be closer, wants to feel him until just touching isn't enough, until there's nothing between them and—

Oh.

Oh.

Jinsik pulls back with a yelp, his entire body snapping taut like a puppet's. It takes half a second for him to regain control of his hands; another hand second for him to start pushing Sumin away. The sharp knife of alarm is quick to cut through Sumin's haze of arousal, though the whiplash in mood has him a little sluggish.

He scrambles to get off Jinsik's lap, his legs tangling with themselves and tripping him so he falls somewhere farther down the mattress. He shakes himself back to a state of semi-clarity, his chest heaving to catch his breath.

"Jagiya? You okay?" he asks. Sure the sudden rejection may sting a little, but something had clearly spooked Jinsik; his comfort is more important than Sumin's libido—he has his hands and a toy for that.

Jinsik makes a whine of distress, patting at the sheets in search of his phone. His eyes dart every which way, so quickly that Sumin feels dizzy just looking at him. He's still panting heavily—which would be incredibly hot in any other context than this clear panic. Sumin's stomach drops in dread. What had he done? What can he do?

"Jinsik, please breathe," Sumin murmurs shakily. "I'm not upset. You know that I'm not upset, right?" He rushes to reassure him, though there isn't much he can do from here but hope that his words get through to him. Jinsik doesn't do well with being touched during an upcoming meltdown. Jinsik gives a somewhat absent nod, half-choking on his own breath. It at least forces him to slow down slightly, a drop of clarity returning to his eyes. "Looking for your phone?" Jinsik nods again, heaving one last painful breath before swallowing and forcing himself to steady his breathing. His hands tangle white-knuckled in the sheets, unsuccessful in their search. Sumin remembers it had been in his pocket; one glance at Jinsik's lap is enough to tell him it's still there. Something else is also quite prominent that hadn't been there before.

Sumin's face flushes a deep red, and he turns his head away so quickly that his neck cracks.

"It's, uh," he stammers, clearing his throat. "It's still in your pocket." He spots the cardigan that Jinsik had discarded earlier and blindly tosses it in his direction; a little cover so they can both have a little cover from the, uh, situation at hand.

There's a strained sort of hum of thanks from Jinsik, then the room falls silent save for the frantic tapping of Jinsik's fingers on his phone. Sumin uses the time to calm himself down and think of how to respond to whatever Jinsik has to say. Realistically, he should have known something like this would have happened. Sure they've made out before, but never this intensely—not to mention ever getting this close to going a step further. It's a natural progression for a relationship, but they need to talk about these kinds of things first. Even though they had fallen for each other at first sight, they still talked just as friends for months, then talked through every step of their relationship once they—and the rest of the group—were unable to ignore their feelings for each other. They'd had plenty of conversations about how to properly accommodate Jinsik—that also ended up helping the rest of the group as a whole—and perhaps they could have had a few more conversations about Sumin's body and what he could or couldn't do with the others, but this... This is a complete blind zone for them both. No wonder Jinsik had panicked so badly.

Jinsik growls in frustration from his place at the headboard. Sumin glances over at him—the cardigan is securely over his lap and concealing their main source of stress—and is met with the sight of him glaring at his own phone, erasing another message.

"Jagi," he calls out, softly enough to not startle him but firmly enough that Jinsik pauses his typing. "You don't have to be so stressed out. I'm not upset at you. It's only natural that you panicked, we didn't talk about this beforehand. I'm sorry for startling you." He makes his way back to Jinsik's side as he speaks, careful not to touch him. Jinsik sighs, some tension visibly bleeding from his shoulders as he types up one last line.

"M really sorry for freaking out it ws jst 2 much yeobo m sry :(" it says on one line. The next line under it reads: "I know ure not mad bt I still feel bad for it since u obviously rly liked it" . The third and final line reads: "Ye we def still need 2 talk bcus I rly don't think I'm ready to do that yet m sry :("

"Yah, stop apologizing!" Sumin chides out loud as he reads through them. Jinsik flinches, but he at least manages a weak smile. "It doesn't matter how much I liked it, now I'm just worried that I was pushing you. How were you feeling?" he asks. Normally, he would take Jinsik's phone to type that up himself, but his brain is going too fast for his fingers at the moment and he needs to let Jinsik know that none of this is his fault nor would Sumin ever hold this to him as fast as he can. Jinsik takes it well, typing out a new message in response.

"I liked it 2, if ure nervous abt scratching me u rly don't have 2 worry bcus I liked that the most" Jinsik hides his face with his free hand while he shows this one to Sumin, although Sumin can still see the blush creeping down his ears and neck. He breathes a sigh of relief; that had been exactly what he was worried about.

"That's good, because I liked doing it," Sumin admits, his voice fraying a little at the edges near the end. He clears his throat to try again. "I liked it when you bit me. I already thought I would, but having it actually happen was a totally different experience." Jinsik's breath hitches, and he yanks the phone back to type another line.

"How long were u thinking abt that?!" It's Sumin's turn to blush this time. Would it be too much to admit it?

"Since we were making those first short-forms with Young Prince for Let's Go Xikers," he mutters. Jinsik makes a strangled noise in response instead of typing out a message. "That's when I first noticed! Then I just couldn't un-notice, and then I would watch your fancams for fun and you were always grinning so widely and showing off your teeth, so I would start thinking, and then—" Sumin cuts off his own rambling with a muted scream that he muffles into his hands. The bed creaks with Jinsik's laughter next to him, so contagious that he can't help but laugh as well, slightly delirious from the emotional rollercoaster that he's just been through. "Ugh, don't get me started on it, I'll work myself up again..." he groans into his hands.

As much as he's tried to talk himself down—and this conversation has certainly helped—he's still running quite hot. He should probably leave if Jinsik is still overwhelmed; he knows Jinsik prefers company to help him calm down, but if he still wants him during this, it'll do no good. Jinsik taps his shoulder after a moment, a new message displayed on his phone.

"I don't mind that part.. I don't want u 2 leave, I jst don't want 2 do more than kiss" Jinsik takes the phone back before Sumin can respond, typing up an addition at lightning speed. “As long as that's ok with u? If u want to leave I won't stop u bt I want u to stay" Sumin's heart melts at the sight.

"Of course I'll stay," he says with a smile. "I'm tired after all that anyway, I won't go as far if we keep going." Jinsik hums in contentment and pockets his phone to pull him into his arms. Sumin easily goes along with his embrace, guiding them down so they're lying down properly. He rests his head on Jinsik's chest, lulled by his heartbeat. It's still faster than usual, but at least not pounding hard enough to cause concern. Jinsik's hand comes up to play with his hair, gentle fingers undoing the knots that had been woven into it by their earlier action. Sumin all but purrs. He brings his own hand up to trace mindless patterns over Jinsik's chest that eventually morph into a repeating "I love you."

It doesn't take long for Jinsik to notice, and then he's smiling and pulling Sumin up to kiss him again. It's tender this time, still relatively heated but free of the urgency of all their previous kisses. Sumin sighs against him. He already sort of is, but still; he could get used to this.

There's a knock on the door before he can, though. They both freeze, staring at each other in mutual dread. If anyone else walks in on them like this, they'll never hear the end of it!

"Jinsik-hyung? Are you sleeping?" Yujun's voice sounds faintly from behind the door. They let out a sigh of relief in unison; Yujun will at least wait for a response before coming in.

"Yes, you were until he knocked," Sumin whispers, tugging the blankets out from under himself and tossing them over both their bodies. "Just roll with it. If he asks, I'm still sleeping." Jinsik nods, pulling out his phone to type out a message for Yujun. Sumin spots him saving his previous messages to him in another folder before opening up a new one before he's rolling over and shutting his eyes. If he can't help but smile in his pretend sleep, that's only for him to know.

===

Yujun can faintly hear a vaguely awake noise from behind Jinsik's closed door. He knocks again, just to be sure.

"Hyung? Can I come in?" he asks. Jinsik gives an approving hum, and he cracks the door open.

Jinsik's lying propped up on one arm, his phone held out in one hand with a message for Yujun to read. Next to him, Sumin is fast asleep.

"Sry, out of words today. We were just taking a nap, what's happening?" Yujun makes a little "ah" in understanding upon reading Jinsik's message. Everyone's been tired while preparing for this comeback, he doesn't blame him or Sumin for wanting a little more rest.

"It's dinnertime, Junmin-hyung bought takeout." Jinsik nods, pausing to glance over at Sumin before typing out his next message. Yujun's heart squeezes in envy. His hyungs are so cute together, when can he have something like that?

"We'll b right out, let me jst wake up Sleeping Beauty and we'll b right there" Yujun fake gags at how sappy his hyung is. Jinsik huffs out a laugh and halfheartedly swipes at him, but Yujun is quick to dodge.

"Couples," he mutters under his breath. "I'll let the others know you're coming, take your time!" he says as he steps out.

He closes the door behind him, and five minutes later his hyungs are trudging out of Jinsik's room looking at least vaguely put together for a couple of people waking up from an afternoon nap.

"Oh my GOD," Hyunwoo shrieks when the two sit down. "I knew you two were fucking!" Everyone else chokes except Junghoon, unbothered as always.

"Language!" Minjae and Junmin hiss in unison over Yechan's hysterical laughter.

"We were not ," Sumin growls, death glaring Hyunwoo so hard that Hunter half hides behind Seeun. Jinsik is fighting himself to form words properly, frantically tapping at his phone for a response. Yujun blinks in confusion.

"Yeah, they were asleep!" he cuts in. Then he catches sight of Sumin's neck. One side is entirely covered with marks, varying shades of pink blooming across his skin.

Oh god.

The stylists are going to kill them for this!

[complete-in-ix]

Statement 20233003 - The Tricky House

Rated: G

Warning(s): Unreality, Manipulation, Kidnapping, softcore psychological torture. Basically if the Tricky House mv was a TMA statement

Description: A sneak peek into the recorded archives of the KQ Foundation, dedicated to researching the paranormal.

(Read on Ao3)

[Click]

Minjae

Statement of Kim Gyuguk, regarding a suspected dokkaebi attack on his nightly commute from work on the Seoul Metro. Original statement given March 30, 2023. Audio recording by Kim Minjae, Apprentice Archivist of the KQ Foundation, South Korea. Statement begins.

Minjae (Statement)

I'm no stranger to the consequences of working overtime. The lost sleep, the sickly feeling that comes with eating too much too late at night, the amount of staggering that it takes to get back on my feet in the following days... Well, it's not like it can be helped. Business is business, and my boss would have my head if I didn't finish this project by tomorrow. I know I'm not young enough to keep shaking off these consequences for much longer, but at least the overtime pay can carry me over for now. Last night was no different than usual. 

I arrived at the office before the sun rose to get a head start on my work, but that still didn't prevent me from being unable to leave until well after it set. Thankfully I was still able to catch the last train home, and unsurprisingly it was empty. I couldn't help but notice as I sat down that the absence of other people seemed to highlight the amount of graffiti in the car that I had chosen. Teenagers these days have too much time on their hands, I suppose. At the time, I was really too tired to care and started to drift off the instant the train started to move. It was while I was nodding off that I noticed the train car wasn't as empty as I assumed it to be. 

There was a young man in the corner seat next to the door that connects the separate train cars together. Half his face was covered by a hat, but even then I could tell that he was quite handsome. His attitude seemed to leave much to be desired however, considering how he was sitting with one foot up on the seat next to him—then again, I'm sure all the young ladies that surely flock to leave love notes in his locker have no regard for that. Sometimes I worry for this generation. Well, whatever, I was much too tired to give him a scolding and he seemed to be minding his own business as well aside from giving me that look that all teenagers like to give adults, so I was content to stay in my seat until one of us reached our stop. He, however... Was not. 

I heard his footsteps coming toward me while my eyes were closed, stopping just in front of me. I really wasn't in the mood to entertain him, so I paid him no mind when it just seemed like he was standing there. I then heard a slight rustle of clothes, and then the headphones that he had been wearing were placed over my head. I braced myself for some screaming noise or nonsense, but it was actually quite pleasant. He hadn't been listening to anything, just some white noise at a low volume to drown out the noises of the train. I could have fallen asleep, until the very noise I had been expecting began to blast into my head! 

I stood up to confront him, but he just backed away with this... Cryptic grin on his face. In my headphones, I could hear something like "Let me show you around our mysterious Tricky House"... Whatever that means. The boy managed to lipsync to it perfectly without even hearing his own music. I would have grabbed his shoulder to ask what he meant, demand that he explain himself or apologize, but he just stepped through the door connecting our train car to the next one before I could even think to move. There were two other boys beyond that door, one who greeted this little troublemaker with an embrace that was quickly hidden from my view by the other boy stepping out to block me. 

He was dancing in my face, somehow lipsyncing along perfectly to the song blasting in my ears despite being unable to hear a word. The song was asking me to look around, to pick what was real... I didn't quite understand why he seemed to be following it along so closely until he threw out his hand and nearly struck me. I managed to avoid his arm by sidestepping him and turning around, but perhaps the motion was too fast for me to handle. No matter how I try to reason with my own memory, I clearly saw three wisps of blue flame fly out from this second boy's hand in the direction I was now facing. I could only watch as they fanned out in front of me and disappeared in a blinding flash. Where the flames were, there were three more boys standing in front of me, also dancing to the music that they surely couldn't hear. Then again, it was playing so loud in my own ears that it might have been leaking out of those headphones. The leader of this little squad asked me if I was "feeling their game", whatever that means. I'll never understand young people and their slang, but I do know that I did not want anything to do with this game! Then, I... 

I'm really not sure what exactly happened. I know I took a step towards them to push my way through and leave for the next car, only to find myself already in the next car down in the blink of an eye! When I regained my bearings, there was another little group in this gang of troublemakers blocking my path! There must have been four or five of them this time, one that I recognized as the second little trouble maker who threw the flames. He and the rest of this group were led by a foreigner, who asked me—well, I can't be sure if it even was his voice playing in my ears, but he lipsynced it very well—in perfect Korean if I was worried about losing. I wanted nothing to do with this game to begin with, so I took a step back to the car I'd started my ride in. 

Again, I found myself thrown backward to the car past it! Someone threw a hand over my shoulder from behind, then, and a voice in my ear—the same one playing in my headphones, though I have no idea how I was still able to hear it over the noise—welcoming me to their "playground". By this point I was quite stricken by motion sickness, so I didn't dare move again. The troublemakers did it for me, flashes of blue fire flying out from behind me and disappearing to reveal a boy with strikingly red hair in front of me. He said... He said many things to me, though it was so fast that I had trouble hearing any of it.

His companions appeared and disappeared in blinding flashes all around him and me, pushing me around and dazzling me until I started to feel much more than a little sick. I did my best to keep it down while these boys flashed and danced around me—despite how terribly mannered they were being, me throwing up on them would be much worse—but it eventually got to be too much, my stomach flickering with an unbearable heat until I was forced to retch. It was the worst pain I've ever felt in my life. Blue-hot flames ripped their way from my throat instead of bile that left a burning sensation behind like no other. I felt as if my entire torso were being emptied, and although I was already hungry as I stepped onto the train, my hunger was pulled out from me as well. Those flames had burned me numb. Even though I must have been under some kind of influence because of this gang—whether they had secretly drugged me or there was some kind of subliminal frequency imbedded in those headphones that I still hadn't taken off, that wasn't even the strangest part about this entire thing! 

No, what unsettles me the most is that after I had vomited up those flames, the movement... Seemed to make the entire train expand , somehow. I highly doubt one human who had spontaneously thrown up blue flames could ever be capable of that, but the timing of it all seemed to match up. The whole train car split down the middle and widened until it would have been impossible to fit inside the tunnel, though that didn't seem to impact it at all. The floor looked all the same, but where the door and walls had split there was only a sickening distortion like someone had stretched it with an editing software. The ceiling had gone through the most dramatic change, now opened up to reveal a mess of gears and machinery that shrieked and sparked against itself; all lit up in blue. The flames I spewed flashed into place in the center of it all, now taking the form of a whole gang of ten boys, all still dancing circles around me.

One boy gave an absolute roar of a rallying cry, and the entire train just... Exploded into a mass of scrap metal. I don't know how I managed to get out of it all unharmed. The oddest thing about it wasn't even my survival or how I was still moving as if I was still on the train even while it was falling apart around me; it was how the world outside looked. Instead of seeing a dark tunnel scattered with sparking metal, I just saw pure pitch black. It was like the world hadn't yet formed around me and consisted of only me and these hooligan boys.

The next thing that I remember is coming to in a shopping cart at my usual station. The weight of those headphones was gone, but my ears still buzzed with noise. My head did as well, I was operating as if through a dream. Before I could move to pull myself up from the cart it was seized from behind, and I was helpless to resist my being pushed all around the station. I at least still had my briefcase—I was clutching it for dear life at this point—while on my chaotic ride. I didn't even have to look behind me to know who was pushing me. I could hear their whooping and jeering echoing all along the station. I flew along the tunnels at a dizzying pace, the blue light of these creature-boys flashing around me all the while through. There was one pair that I noticed seemed to dance around each other quite a lot, colliding in the air before me and sending off showers of blue sparks. At one point I could have sworn that one exploded into a puff of flame shaped like a heart... Well. I certainly hope it wasn't directed towards me!

They pushed me clean through the gate to leave the station. I'm past questioning why I got out unharmed or how no one came running to investigate the noise of my cart crashing past. I just wanted to know where they were taking me. We zipped through the back roads, where no one could possibly witness this chaos. I remember trying to jump out on multiple occasions—often helped by the chaotic steering of whoever or whatever was pushing me—to no avail. Everything from here is a sort of blur. I remember faces; more young men laughing in my face and running circles around my prison in the cart. If they were still singing that song, I wouldn't be able to tell you… My whole mind was just a mess of noise. 

I vaguely remember coming to a stop at the arcade near my station. They tipped me out of the cart quite rudely—and directly into the closed door! I braced myself for impact, but… it never came. The door swung open just ahead of me before I could hit it and I instead collided with a short but solid body. This one said… Something along the lines of "Follow me" and dragged me into the arcade. It was all lit up as if it were the middle of the day; cabinets lighting up with noise and flashing in our wake. I was surrounded by the time we stopped. They had cornered me in front of a claw game full of stuffed animals, each of them cheering and begging me to win them one from their respective places at the other machines. 

"If you think for a second that I'd be willing to spend a penny for you rascals, you're sorely mistaken!" I scolded. They just laughed harder, all their voices overlapping until I could barely make out a word. The short one who had dragged me into the arcade raised a hand and they all stopped; he must be their leader. 

"Money won't be an issue, mister," he said, and then he pointed to the bag I still had clutched in my arms. "Look inside." 

I didn't trust any of these boys as far as I could throw them—and I'm not nearly as strong as I used to be—so I kept my eye on them all as I reached into my bag. I half suspected this was some kind of trick until my hand closed around an unfamiliar weight. 

"Go on, sir! Take it out and give your wallet a good whack!" The leader's eyes unsettled me as he spoke. They gleamed with a deep, bright blue light that didn't come from any of the arcade machines; it seemed to come from inside his body. The others' eyes shone too but it was more of a reflection; all their gazes trained on the leader whose stare pierced right through me. 

I was hesitant to follow his suggestion until I felt the heft of whatever they had put in my bag. It was dense and solid, vaguely long. Perhaps I could use it as a weapon if push came to shove. I took it out with the express intention of this only to find… A microphone. What was I supposed to do with that? Instead of the laughing and jeering that I expected, I was only met with stares of nearly tangible anticipation. 

"If you’re nervous about taking out your wallet in front of us, just hit your bag!” their leader said. I had half a mind to just scold these boys and leave until I just… Couldn't. There was something in the gleam of his eyes that held me still. I knew I had no choice but to obey, so I raised the microphone up and brought it down on my bag as if it were a drum. 

It immediately swelled to near bursting with coins; so quickly that I heard the seams creaking. I nearly dropped it in my surprise. The other boys roundly started cheering for me and resumed their pleading for their plushies—why they couldn't just steal them on their own was beyond me—and I had no choice but to turn around and start playing. 

“Showtime!” their leader cheered as I loaded the first few coins in. At this point I’m really not sure if I was fully in control of myself. I remember thinking “How can I keep letting them do this? I’m not even being threatened into this, I should just leave!” only for my legs to refuse to move. I must have been in that arcade for hours winning toy after toy for this gang—what a strange ransom to demand from strangers—until I finally had full control of myself again. 

I turned around to give them the scolding they all deserved only to be met with the leader pointing a gun from one of the point-and-shoot games directly into my head. He fired it with a “Pow!” and suddenly I was in an empty parking lot somewhere underground. Every plushie that I had given to those brats was now cradled in my arms and overflowed to the floor, but I really couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to that because of what was in front of me.

Blocking the exit to this garage were five mascot costumes that I vaguely recognized as life-size versions of the plushies in my hands. How they got there to block my exit was beyond me; I was more unsettled by their presence by anything. There had to be people inside for these costumes to be even standing; were they in league with this boy gang? I remember my bag having to be refilled by that microphone wand multiple times while I was in the arcade and it was still heavy with coins now; could this all have been a ploy to rob me?

I had no time to think of an answer before I just… Dropped everything in my arms and started dancing. It was like before; I didn’t feel in control of my body at all. I thought perhaps I could just be finally starting to snap under the sheer absurdity of my situation until I tried to resist my own movement. Something pulled tight around my arm and in the opposite direction of my resistance. It didn’t stop pulling even when I let my arm go slack again; I nearly thought this force was going to tear my arm off! Thankfully it just resumed dragging me around in that oddly intense dance that it initially puppeteered me into doing just a second later, and I was helpless to resist. Unfortunately my endurance isn’t nearly what it used to be; whatever was controlling me only seemed to be working on my movements and I found myself growing exhausted within moments. The mascots were upon me by then, all dancing around me and getting closer and closer with every move. Soon the proximity grew crushing, and I blacked out yet again.

The next time I came to was back in the shopping cart, and we were stopped in an alley where the back street racers park all their bikes. The boys were all dancing in a ring around me, chanting something. Once they noticed I had woken up, there was a great shouting and they all scattered. I tried to sit up only to be pushed back down by that first boy I had seen on the train. He spun me around to face an area of the wall that was still somehow blank of any graffiti and then disappeared from view. Another boy took his place with his fingers lit up in blue sparks… Which boy this was, I can't say, I was far too dizzy to make anything out. He signed the wall with a rather strange word… Perhaps it's a new slang that the kids have come up with; I think it was… xikers? Whatever that means. Another boy was covering my eyes before I could process it fully.

His face appeared before me only a split second later, lit up in all directions by a carnival. This unsettled me deeply; not only was it still far too cold for any carnivals here, I didn’t recognize this one at all! It was all… Off. I’m sure I’ve been someplace similar, but this wasn’t it; not exactly. My blood started to curdle as this boy was telling me that “We like it like”... something. I couldn’t quite hear him over the blaring of the rides. I remember being on one—a merry-go-round that was going far too fast for my liking—but I have no memory of getting on or off. I only remember my legs feeling like jelly as I held on for dear life. At this point the boys’ lighter and that booming music from when this night began was permanently ingrained into my head; I hear it even now, actually. It still rang in my ears even after I was transported off the ride—I really don’t know how I did it—back onto solid ground. The microphone was back in my hand instead of the merry-go-round pole; now extended on a short stand. 

I don’t remember what I wanted to do with it. I just know that the boys were trying to wrestle it from my grip and that they weren’t supposed to have it. Still, an entire ten against one is hardly a fair match, so I was struggling quite a bit. Amid their pushing each other for a hold and shouting words I can’t recall into the receiver, I managed to shake them off with a strong swing—directly into an ATM next to me.

Like my bag, it exploded with riches. Bills flew every which way and I’m not above admitting I tried to catch a few. The boys seemed to have no interest in them, just dancing around me and taunting me about how they like to play their game. I couldn’t help but notice the first boy from the train and the boy who received him when he switched with the second were staying awfully close throughout all this… Well, it’s none of my business. I was more preoccupied with the chaos around me to care; the lights in this carnival all started to go dark all at once amid the flurry from the ATM. It’s not like they turned off—no, they just changed. 

Yet again I found myself surrounded in a deep ultra blue while the carnival just melted away from around me. It was like I was in the train again being pushed through the entire train without feeling any of the movement; illuminated only by the blue wisps of fire that I had since come to understand were the boys who had chosen to terrorize me. Now that there was no background noise to torment me I could hear their words more clearly; something about a strange and beautiful dokkaebi house. I was beyond confusion at this point; the things that these boys had subjected me to throughout the night could be nothing else but the work of a trickster spirit. I would have honestly believed that they had gone extinct since modern times, however this clearly proved me wrong. 

It was then that I noticed my arms felt much lighter than before. I checked my bag in a panic; everything was there. The coins that it had been overflowing with at the arcade were the only things missing along with the microphone and its stand. I'll be honest, I was glad to have them gone. I only worried for what it was about to be used for in the hands of the dokkaebi boy in front of me.

"When the bat hits, what will it become?" he asked me, twirling it about in my face. I didn't have the slightest clue what "it" he could be referring to; I just hoped it wasn't me. I was then surrounded by echoing cheers of "Tell me what you want" and "tell me what you need". Were they asking me? All I wanted or needed was a way out of here, seriously… 

I must have said it out loud; for the boy then smiled at me and beat the microphone against the ground. 

In a puff of blue smoke, my tormentors disappeared and were replaced by a sleek, red Ferrari in front of me. My surroundings were pitch black; that car was the only thing remotely illuminated. Finally, my way out! At the time I didn't think to question why I was given such a gaudy ride out, nor did I wonder why I suddenly had the keys to such an expensive car just lying there in my pocket. In hindsight, I really should have. 

Once I opened the door, the chaos that I assumed had ended began again. I entered in blessed silence and just took a moment to breathe, to take in what I thought was my escape. I had grown so accustomed to the booming music that had been beating my ears since the train ride that I had almost forgotten what peace sounded like… I missed it. Perhaps if I had never turned the key, I could have just walked away and found my own way home. Unfortunately I was so tired that all I wanted to do was enjoy a comfortable ride home. 

The music blasted through the speakers as soon as the engine turned over. I was so startled that I stamped down on the gas instead of the brake; never mind that I hadn't even shifted the car into gear yet. That didn't seem to matter to it; the parking brake released and it slammed itself into gear without my hands even leaving the steering wheel. Speaking of the wheel I could hardly get a grip on it; any direction that I was able to pull it in was the result of all my strength and as a result had no real control whatsoever. On and on in furious circles I swerved until I was certain that I would be sick again—perhaps if I was any younger I would have found this fun, but as it is I've grown out of that phase quite thoroughly. It's a miracle that I didn't crash in all the darkness that still surrounded me. All I could see past the windshield was headlights glowing ahead of me—though I occasionally caught flashes of shapes in their beam before the car swerved away again. I did everything I could to stop; slamming the brakes, pulling up the emergency brake, even removing the key from the ignition; all to no avail. I got to the point where all I could do was beg and cry for someone to come stop me, for my captors to have mercy, anything! 

No such solace came.

The next thing I remember was waking up in an empty lot all the way across the city with a pounding headache, surrounded by burned-out tire marks and an entire supply closet's worth of brooms. I still had all my belongings—though my phone was long dead—and as far as I can tell my physical condition was fine save for some fatigue. They hadn't even taken any of my money; everything that had been spent at the arcade came from that mysterious magical microphone. Thankfully I was able to regain my bearings without too much struggle—this was near where I used to attend university—and I made my way straight to this place to give my statement. It's a wonder you lot are still open that late—or early—given how secluded your building is. Well, it's none of my business, I'm just glad I was able to give my statement. Surely the police would have me detained and tested for lunacy. I wouldn't blame them; even now I can still hear that song echoing in my mind… 

"Shanti, Shanti, ya-ya-ya, Shanti, ya-ya-ya," over and over again. Perhaps I should just get some rest.

Minjae

Statement ends. 

Well! It sounds like this Kim Gyuguk-ssi had a fun night! Honestly, I would be more inclined to chalk this up to a bad trip from some shady drugs that the boy on the train gave him that he's just in denial of—if it weren't for the corroborating evidence that Hunter was able to dig up for me. While digging through transit status updates for March 30th—last night, actually—he found a "strange disturbance" on the last train of the night. Security officers at the time reported what looked and sounded to be an explosion followed by a significant delay in the train's arrival, however when it did get to the final station it was perfectly intact—with no passengers. 

He also managed to get his hands on the security footage from that empty lot that Gyuguk-ssi woke up in. There was indeed an unexplained outage early this morning for nearly an hour, only for the cameras to come back on with a clear view of him lying unconscious in the middle of the lot; indeed surrounded by unexplained tire tracks and a large arrangement of old brooms scattered all around him.

During my own research—actually it was during my commute to work here—I did pass by the arcade that Gyuguk-ssi mentioned. The staff were gathered around having a heated discussion with each other; it turns out there was some kind of break in—even though there was no evidence of tampering—and one of their claw machines was stocked full of coins but no prizes. Those had all been found in a pile in the parking lot along with the mascots they use for children's parties. Seems like an awful coincidence…

Well, all the research that can be done on this subject has been done; Junmin suggested that we let Gyuguk-ssi get a little rest before we contact him again. All the better for me, maybe I can ask my boss to let me off early. Kim Hongjoong is no slouch, but he knows it's useless to hold people when there's no work to be finished. 

Maybe then my friends and I can welcome another guest to our house~

Recording ends.

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