Archive of Our Own

     He loved the pain, not the kind that came from cruelty, but the kind that meant something. The sting of leather against bare skin, the burn of a firm hand wrapping around his throat, the ache in his knees from staying down for too long. He loved being pushed, tested, handled. He loved bruises like love letters, marks that whispered, “You were mine last night.”

It wasn’t just about the physical sensations, though the sharp slap, the steady throb, the slow drag of nails down his spine made his blood hum, it was about surrender. The trust it took to let someone break you open, just to be put back together with gentler hands. The shame, the praise, the humiliation that burned so good when it came from someone who knew how to wield it like a gift.

He didn’t want pain for the sake of hurting. He wanted the pain that said “stay,” that said “safe,” that said “good boy.” Pain that turned silence into begging and pride into moans.

Pain that felt like worship, because for him, it was.

His room was dimly lit, bathed in the faint glow of red LED lights that kissed every surface with the kind of warmth that wasn’t meant to comfort. The scent of sweat, lube, and something sweeter clung to the air like smoke. Yunho lay sprawled across his sheets, naked but for the white sheer stockings hugging his thighs, each one tied delicately with satin bows. He looks fragile, sinful.

Surrounding him, a small kingdom of toys. Plugs in all shapes and sizes, some jeweled like pretty punishments, others brutal and uninviting. Rope, clamps, paddles, lubes, vibrators humming in idle anticipation. Things that gleamed under the light like weapons of worship. His breath hitched as his fingers ghosted over them, slowly choosing his God to begin his ritual.

He wasn’t thinking of a Dom in particular. No face, no name. Just a voice, low, deep, authoritative. Just hands,big, rough, controlling. Just a presence so strong it made his stomach tighten and his hole clench before even being touched.

His fingers trembled as he looped the leather ring around his cock, pulling it tight until he hissed, veins bulging, pleasure on the edge of pain. He clicked the leash into place around his throat, his favorite one, the one that tightened when he moved too much, the one that made it hard to breathe. Just enough to blur the line between lightheaded and alive.

No lube. No fingers. No prep.

He wanted to hurt.

He wanted to feel it, raw and full and wrong. He wanted to stretch and burn and bleed if that’s what it took to quiet the noise in his head. To chase that voice. That imaginary man who didn’t love him but would fuck him like he was worth something. Who’d say the words no one ever had. Who’d look at him like he wasn’t just too much or not enough.

“Good boy,” he whispered through clenched teeth, echoing the phantom voice as he forced the first toy in. His back arched, muscles spasming, breath caught mid-sob. It stung, it tore, it opened him and he welcomed every second of it.

Yunho gasped, eyes wet, choking slightly on the collar as he bucked against the intrusion. His thighs shook. His hole clenched uselessly around the silicone. He wasn’t ready, he knew he wasn’t ready but that was the point.

Punishment for craving things he didn’t deserve. For dreaming of arms that would never hold him. For needing someone who would never fucking come.

He slammed it in deeper. Groaned. Bit his lip until it bled.

He pressed his forehead to the mattress, fists trembling around the sheets, body burning from the inside out. He whimpered again, not from pleasure, not even from pain but from that hollow place inside him that no toy could reach.

“Good little…pup,” he moaned, gripping the pillow tighter, the lace digging into his hips as he rocked back into the toy, faster now.

It was never enough when it was just him.

He added another. Then another. Gasping. Twitching. Slapping his own thighs hard enough to see stars. Crying from the absence of someone to say it for real. To hold him down and make him take it. To yank his hair and tell him he was perfect like this; used and ruined and still begging for more.

“Please—” the boy whispered, his voice cracked and breathy, face flushed and body trembling. “Please say it. Tell me I’ve been good.”

And in his head, the voice returned. Dark, slow, and commanding.

“You’re doing so well, pup. Taking it all like the filthy little good boy you are.”

Yunho cried out more from the ache in his chest than the stretch between his legs. Because this wasn’t enough. This would never be enough. But for now, he let the fantasy ruin him. Let the phantom voice reward him. Let his own pain remind him what he was made for.

Pleasure. Obedience. Praise.

And the kind of pain that meant he was wanted.

“I’ve been good,” he whispered again. “Please, I’ve been so good…”

But there was no one there. Just the red light. The ache. The silence.

And the sob he couldn’t stop when he realized he was still alone.

[•••]

That evening, Yunho strolled into the Red Fantasy like he owned the place, because in a way, he did.

A see-through crop top clung to his chest, the fabric sheer enough to expose the delicate curves beneath, the two small piercings of his nipples faintly visible. Fine metallic necklaces clinking softly like a warning bell. A black mini skirt clung to his hips, obscenely short, just enough to reveal the curve of the harness strapped tight beneath, and the soft sway of a leash trailing down his back from a thick velvet collar. Gold letters shimmered against the dark leather: Good Puppy.

Ironic, really.

Yunho had never been a good anything.

The club was a forbidden sanctuary built on whispered sins, a hidden cathedral where masks fell off and true desires thrived. You don’t walk into the Red Fantasy by accident. You were invited, recommended, tested. And even then, survival was a question of instinct.

Yunho reigned over this stage without claiming to be, without apparent effort. He was both the backdrop and the distraction, the enfant terrible you couldn't help but stare at, even when he was setting a trap for you.

He zigzagged between guests with the careless elegance of someone born to be looked at, puppy ears twitching playfully on his head, mocking anyone who thought it made him cute. Tray balanced in one hand, the other flicking his hair from his eyes, a carnivorous smile on his lips. He had the art of looking at you as if reading your thoughts before you even uttered them. 

The air pulsed with loud music, bass-heavy, slow, and sinuous like a heartbeat. Shadows curled along the red and black walls, soft and intimate, broken only by the flicker of chandeliers strung with chains instead of crystals. The scent of leather, sweat, perfume, and candle wax hung heavy, intoxicating.

Bodies moved like a ritual: leashes pulled taut, heels clicking with purpose, breathless laughter smothered beneath gags. In the corners, plush leather couches held scenes in slow motion; gloved hands gripping throats, ropes biting into thighs, mouths parted in silent pleas or command. Nothing screamed. Everything hummed.

Doms/Masters lounged with wine in gloved fingers, eyes lazily scanning the floor like wolves at ease in their den. Subs/Pets knelt at their feet or walked with pride, wrists cuffed in gold or steel, their shame turned into power under the ambient glow of the dim lights. Pain and pleasure threaded into quiet elegance. Just a language of looks, gestures, pressure, restraint. A world where desire and obedience were the highest form of devotion.

Yunho arrived at table number seven, the half-moon booth near the garnet velvet alcove. Four clients, dressed in perfectly tailored suits. Anonymous faces, except a few ones, especially one. The man in the middle, tall, broad shoulders and an all-too-visible gold cross resting against his half-unbuttoned shirt, straightened up slightly the moment he saw him approach.

Yunho recognized him in a blink, the way one recognizes a familiar bite.

Eric, or daddy Ric, as Yunho liked to call him.

A regular, seasoned and once-burned. One who had learned the hard way that behind the angelic smile of that boy, there were fangs. He looked away like the trained coward he had become. Smart. He had already tried to tame the pup. Spent weeks licking his wounds.

Yunho walked up, smile wide and sweet like poison, letting his heels click purposefully on the lacquered floor just enough to signal his presence. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as he tilted his head slightly, puppy ears twitching as if waiting for a praise.

“Oh…” he cooed sweetly, watching the now flushed face of the regular. “You… I remember you!”

Eric tried to keep his composure, jaw clenched but his shoulders tensed despite himself. Reflexive reaction, Yunho could’ve purred in satisfaction.

“Good evening, daddy Ric…” he said, voice honeyed dripping with venom. He leaned in a little more, offering the table an indecent glimpse down his crop top and the strap of his harness. “I’m so glad to see you again. I missed you.”

He punctuated the words with a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, the kind of motion that drove men crazy and made women curious. Eric smiled, stiffly. He didn’t respond right away, as if digging through his memory for the safest way to avoid getting humiliated a second time.

“Aren't you happy to see me?” Yunho added with mock sadness. “Oh…”

“No, no, I’m… very happy to see you again, pup.”

Yunho’s smile widened. He set the tray down on the table with a graceful flick of the wrist, served the drinks in silence, then perched briefly on the edge of the seat, one hand fluttering above the man’s thigh without quite touching it.

“I would’ve been so upset otherwise, daddy. You know that.” He tilted his head, eyes gleaming. “Have you been good since last time?” he demanded with a mock air of innocence, his arms stretched out tightly.

The man chuckled nervously. “I'm a fast learner.”

“I hope so. Because bad boys…” Yunho leaned in, his lips grazing Eric’s ear, “…get punished, don’t they?”

Then he stood up, almost bouncing, slipping back into the role of the cheerful pup with disturbing ease, he didn’t wait for an answer.

“Enjoy your evening, gentlemen~”

But the new ones never learned from the others.

They came in reeking of self-importance, shoulders puffed up, acting like Doms just because they’d bullied their ex into crying in the bedroom once.

Like tonight’s fresh meat.

Tight black long-sleeve mesh shirt, flashy Rolex. Rigid jaw, the kind of man who barks orders and thinks that makes him dominant. He spotted Yunho and, like the idiot he was, reached out, placing a heavy hand right on his collar.

“What’s with the leash, pup? Begging for a master or just starved for attention?”

A few regulars stilled, eyes locked on the inevitable scene. A delicate hush settled across the leather and neon. Yunho’s head lifted slowly. His lashes fluttered, and his lips curled, like a wolf who’d just spotted the weakest member of the herd. His voice came low, soft, and steady.

“Aww… would you play with the little pup if he begged real nice?” he cooed, syrup-sweet, deceptively innocent. He tilted his head, ears twitching, and added in a breathy tone, “Would you leash me up and teach me obedience, Sir?”

The man laughed, predictably. Poor thing thought he’d won a little brat to tame tonight.

Yunho leaned in closer, brushing his chest against the man’s shirt, the metallic chime of his necklaces ringing softly between them. One hand lazily slid up the man’s tie with maddening slowness, fingers wrapping around the silk like his own leash, he breathed leisurely.

The man smirks wider, smug, mistaking the performance for interest.

“But can you handle me?” Yunho whispered, wide-eyed sparkling with that dangerous curiosity. “You might want to stop shaking first?"

The man blinked and his smile faded. Yunho’s thumb brushed over his bottom lip, gaze flicking to his mouth as if considering kissing him then dropped to his belt with all the lazy interest of a spoiled cat eyeing a slow mouse.

“You look so tense Sir,” Yunho murmured, ghosting his fingers across the man’s stomach, not touching enough to give, but just enough to suggest. “Nervous?” he asked, soft and condescending, the kind of tone you’d use for a child right before punishment. “Is it because I talk back? Or because you’ve already got a hard-on just from this?”

The man flushed. He tried to speak, but Yunho was already circling him, trailing his fingers just along the seams of his jacket, close enough to feel, never enough to touch. He leaned in again, lips brushing against the man’s ear.

“Your cock’s about to tear through your slacks, and I haven’t even touched you properly.” He whispered.

“You’re going to regret being a brat,” the man growled, lowering his voice in a failed attempt to mask the shiver that ran through him. He straightened slightly, shoulders tense, jaw clenched, struggling to maintain the illusion of control.

Yunho batted his eyelashes, his head still tilted to the side like a disoriented puppy.

“Am I?” he breathed, wearing a pout that almost looked regretful. He straightened a bit, hands clasped against his chest, eyes shining with feigned innocence. “So what are you gonna do about it, hm? Put me over your knee and spank me? Put me in the corner? How are you going to punish me, daddy…?”

The Dom clenched his jaw tighter, visibly uncomfortable under the growing stares. Some chuckled softly; others watched intently, hungry for the scene. Yunho, meanwhile, seemed to feed off the attention. With a sudden motion, the man yanked the boy down and sneered, thinking he had regained the upper hand. He placed a firm hand on Yunho’s nape, imagining himself dominating the creature in front of him.

He hadn’t yet realized he was about to get skinned alive.

Yunho let it happen. He let the man’s fingers graze his cheek, his gaze lowering sweetly, lips parted in a shy pout. He played docility like a role he’d rehearsed too many times. He inched closer, now kneeling, posture perfect, back straight, arms resting on his thighs like a perfect little sub waiting for approval.

The silence in the room was thick.

“Open that little slutty mouth. If you can hold my cock for two hours, maybe I’ll give you a reward.”

Yunho arched an eyebrow in disbelief and the man spread his legs. The boy’s eyes raked over the bulge now visible through the man’s pants.

“Or maybe I should make you do your shift on your knees, crawling around. You're a good boy who'll lick my boots, aren't you, pup?”

Yunho’s left eye twitched.

Damn, I can’t do this, nope, not tonight. Yunho thought.

Then unhurriedly, he lifted his gaze, and this time, it wasn’t a sweet little pup staring up anymore. It was something sharper, meaner like a dangerous animal. A predator in angel’s clothing. A carnivorous smile slashed across his lips, and in one swift, merciless motion, his hand plunged between the man's legs and pressed hard.
Very hard.

The man stifled a cry, his whole body tensing in pain. Yunho pressed harder, without even blinking.

“You wanted to train me?” he murmured, head still tilted, but his gaze glacial. “You don’t tug on the leash of a dog you don’t know.”

A small, crystal-clear laugh bubbled his throat, sweet and terrifying at the same time. Soft laughter floated around them. A few regulars had turned fully now, watching with amused anticipation. One or two looked away in secondhand embarrassment. Yunho turned his head toward the growing audience with a mock gasp.

“Oh no,” he pouted dramatically, tugging the leash behind his back, “Did I bruise his big dom ego? Should I apologize, Sir? Maybe bark a little?”

He released his grip slowly, like a blade being pulled from flesh. The man, pale and trembling, panted for air, eyes wide in disbelief at what had just happened. Yunho stood gracefully, brushing dust off his mini skirt, the chime of his necklaces light and joyous. He glanced around the room, then clicked his tongue.

“You see, the problem with guys like you… you think any boy wearing a collar is an invitation.”

He looked down one last time at the man still kneeling, crushed by pain and shame, still hard.

“That’s all it takes, tsk. Not even entertaining.”

And then he kicked him away, effortlessly, as if swatting away a fly.The man stumbled, red with humiliation, before he could say a word, Yunho was already walking away toward the bar.

He didn’t look back. Was he truly a sub? He sure as hell wasn’t a Dom. Maybe he was something else entirely; A velvet-wrapped storm, chaos on a leash. A kid with too much power and no intention of using it politely. Yunho was bored, at this point, he was sure as hell he was going to die alone.

Yes, he had the ears, the collar, the leash.

But he also had teeth. Sharp ones and a tongue sharper still.

He had his favourites, of course. One or two regulars whose presence he tolerated, sometimes even their domination, in rare secret moments. But never without challenge, never without play. You had to earn his submission. And you had to enjoy being bitten in return.

He’d kneel if he felt like it. He’d purr if the moment called for it. But don’t mistake the role for reality. Yunho doesn’t obey, he entertains in occasional pet play. And he never, never let anyone think they’d won, it was all in their heads.

The whispers behind the scenes were endless.

Some said he was protected by one of the founders. Others claimed a client had fallen so hard he threatened to buy the club just to keep Yunho off-limits. No one really knew. But they all knew one thing: hurt him, and you were done. Try to own him, and you’d leave with bite marks and not the sexy kind.

He slipped into the restricted performers’ room. Only a few were allowed in. He reemerged twenty minutes later, lips reddened, his collar slightly twisted, a fresh bite mark glowing purple on his throat like a signature no one could read.

He didn’t say a word, he didn’t need to.

Yunho wasn’t a toy. He was the whole fucking game, and if you think you can cage him, it was all in your fantasy.

You could only hope he chose to crawl into your lap, and if he did, you better be ready to bleed.

 [•••]

A bit more later that evening, Yunho had taken refuge behind the bar, leaning against the black marble, fingers absentmindedly playing with a closed bottle. His gaze, usually sparkling with mischief, had dulled, lost somewhere between the neon lights and the memories he didn’t really want to revisit.

He wasn’t in the mood anymore.

Not to play.

Not to seduce.

And certainly not to pretend for the sake of a bargain-bin dom who thought placing a firm hand on his neck was enough to earn submission.

The thing about Yunho was that he was a little masochist. A real one, and people always ignore that fact or go extremely far.

He loved the bite of leather, the weight of an authoritative gaze, the warmth of palms gripping his hips.He loved being praised when he’d behaved, and punished when he hadn’t.

He didn’t like violence disguised as control.

He didn’t like barked orders from men too fragile to face their own impotence.

He didn’t like games where only egos rubbed against each other.

Humiliation and pain were among the things that made him feel better, feel grounded and safe, but again, it wasn’t senseless cruelty, nor useless degradation that made him want to live.

It was those things, done right. Done with care. Done with consent.

He exhaled slowly, took a sip of water, no alcohol tonight, and set the bottle down with a soft clack. The lights of the Red Fantasy cast shifting shadows on his skin, and yet he remained still, frozen, like he was waiting for something that would never come.

His last relationship had left marks.

Not the beautiful kind you brush with your fingertips with a nostalgic smile. No, these were the ones that itched under the skin. The kind that makes you doubt when someone said “you’re mine”, even if they said it with the right tone.

Because he’d believed it, back then.

That he was his.

That Master, that deep voice that promised everything and returned nothing. He had let the dom in and the man had taken everything. Gave nothing back. It took Yunho a long time to understand that sometimes, being a brat wasn't a disguised submissive role: It was a shield. An armor made of insolence, provocations, and sharp smiles. A way to test. To push. To see who stays, who respects.

Who takes the time to see the human behind the act.

He pulled up his skirt absently, wincing as he felt the still-red mark on his hip, remnant of a scene gone too far, too rough, too malicious, dressed up as discipline. He’d said stop that day. He’d been ignored. And ever since, he’d change.

Twenty-five years old, long enough to carve a place in this codified world. Long enough to understand that pain only means something when it’s offered, not imposed.

A regular tried to call out to him. Yunho didn’t answer. Another one offered him a collar as a gift. Yunho answered with a hollow stare, cold and sharp as a cleaver.

He wasn’t looking for a master tonight.

He was looking for… nothing.

And that was just fine.

He was going home and if a real master wanted him…Then they were going to have to earn him.

At last, he set down the bottle, adjusted his collar, Good puppy still gleaming and slipped off the stool with a sigh, running a weary hand through his tousled hair, and made his way toward the staff corridor. But a subtle movement near the club entrance caught his attention like a shiver running down the back of his neck. He stopped, his gaze caught in spite of himself.

Three men stood there.

Two of them were tall, broad, dressed in dark clothes skimming the edge of military gear. They flanked another man and he was the one who stole all the light. Even in a room full of desire, hungry stares, and flashes of skin, he was the one everyone saw. Not because of the raw power he exuded, nor even because of his face, sublime, angular, barely smiling, but because of his aura. The aura of a man who feared nothing. The aura of someone who knew he didn’t need to raise his voice for the entire room to listen.

Yunho remained frozen.

The man wore a sleeveless leather vest, perfectly fitted to his frame, open almost down to his navel, revealing a sculpted, broad chest. Several layered necklaces, crosses, and thin chains gleamed against his golden skin. A jacket hung lazily off one arm, its studded sleeves glinting, as if he’d only half-undressed to raise the temperature.

But it was his pants that really commanded attention, a masterpiece made of thick, shiny black leather, skin-tight to the point of obscenity, outlining every muscle in his thighs, every curve of his hips, every silent tension in his legs like they were carved to dominate. The belt hung loose, almost decorative. As if the outfit dared someone to try to slide it off.

His gaze, beneath his tinted glasses, swept the room with the nonchalance of someone who knows he's being watched and will be until he decides to vanish.

Yunho swallowed. Fuck, he is delicious.

The heavy soles of his boots struck the floor, devouring space with deliberate slowness. He didn’t even need flashy accessories. His body was the accessory.

Yunho didn’t realize he was still staring until two arms wrapped around him from behind.

“Yuyu!”

He recognized the voice before he felt the cat ears brush his shoulder. San, in his slutty kitten version, tight red leather shorts, black fishnets hugging his thighs, a bell collar jingling softly with each movement. His cat tail, clearly attached by a visibly not-so-discreet plug, swayed playfully behind him.

“The boss is looking for you!”

Yunho blinked, still foggy.

“Tell him I’m heading home. I’m tired.”

But as he turned around, ready to run away, San grabbed his wrist, forcing him to stop.

“Hey… you okay?”

Yunho was about to give an automatic I’m fine, a half-sincere don’t worry, babe until his gaze flicked back, just for a second, toward the club’s entrance.

And then he saw Hongjoong, his boss.
The legendary. Cold. Uncompromising Red Fantasy founder.

He never touched anyone except his husband. Even Yunho must have earned his head pat. Hell, the man had stepped back when a younger Yunho once tried to thank him with an innocent hug. And now, Hongjoong was in this man’s arms, his own arms around the man’s neck, head on the shoulder, body pressed fully against body.

And he wasn’t letting go.

Yunho’s heart skipped a beat, a chill ran down his spine.

“Sannie… who’s this guy?”

San turned around, glanced over, his cat ears suddenly perking up.

“No idea, but I wanna call him Sir.”

“Be serious, what if he’s a sub?”

With a confused pout, San analysed the man again and shook his head.

“I don’t think so, plus, he looks exactly your type Yuyu! Shoot your shot!”

Yunho narrowed his eyes. The man was as tall as Yunho himself but broader, more muscular. San was right, the man totally looked like he could pick Yunho up and throw him around for fun. Or to ruin. Whatever worked best for him, the little pup would enjoy it. Kim Hongjoong’s expression had softened. Really softened, and he was still holding him as if he’d just found a ghost.

The other man held him by the waist.

And suddenly, Yunho knew he wasn’t going home.

Not yet. Because if that man was someone Hongjoong held like that…Then he wasn’t just anyone. Which meant Yunho had to know.

He needed to know even if it meant getting close to the fire.

Again.

The puppy boy slipped away toward the staff rooms, elbowing the door open with a small sigh, lips pursed as he faced the mirror. He reapplied a touch of gloss, fixed the liner at the corner of his eyes, and dabbed his neck delicately. His reflection winked back at him. He adjusted his crop top and fishnet thighs, then tugged slightly on the collar strap, slid the leash out of the center ring, and rolled it into his pouch. Not out of shame but because he preferred to keep control over what people thought they saw of him. His puppy ears firmly in place, he was ready.

In the main room, not much had changed. The dim lights still pulsed like a sweating heartbeat, the bass throbbed through the walls, discussions and laughter mingled with the clink of glasses. Yunho picked up his tray, smoothed the hem of his skirt, and walked toward the VIP section, hips swaying to a rhythm only he could hear.

He ignored the burning stare from Wooyoung, a dom, who was leaning at the bar in his usual black leather attire, jaw clenched in frustration.

Yunho knew.

Everyone knew that San was sleeping in Wooyoung’s eyes. That the dom pretended not to feel anything, that his arrogance was just a mask for a hunger towards the kitten he refused to admit, fucking every subs he could put his hands on. Yunho was one of his victims. But that wasn’t tonight’s story.

Nope, tonight, Yunho wanted to have fun. Or burn something down. Maybe both.

When he finally reached the VIP area, he didn’t bother being discreet, he was part of the decor. One of those elements that turned heads without trying. He approached the couch where his boss, Hongjoong, was sitting beside the mysterious man, legs spread, one arm draped lazily along the backrest like he owned the entire room.
Yunho stopped a meter away, tilted his head, a smirk dancing on his lips, and let his voice flow like honey.

“Boss, you called for me?” he purred.
Hongjoong looked up, offering him that bittersweet expression he only gave to those he valued too much to ever replace. He stood slowly, straightened his jacket, and threw a discreet glance at the man seated beside him.

“Yunho, this is Mingi Song. Mingi, this is Yunho, one of my best staff mem—”

“Nice to meet youu Sir!!” Yunho cut in, sing-songing the words with exaggerated cheer. “I didn't know that Red Fantasy had customers like—”

Hongjoong shot him a sharp look.

“You’ll have time to get acquainted later.” He cut him off. “Come with me, boy.”

Yunho immediately sighed, eyes rolling toward the ceiling.

“Nooo…” he whined, voice drawn out, adorably annoyed. “He didn’t even say hi back!!”

He let himself be dragged by the hand like a kid too old to throw tantrums but clever enough to make them look cute anyway.

“It’s that serious, huh? It’s always serious when you make that face.”

Hongjoong didn’t reply, but his silence said plenty. Yunho cast one last glance over his shoulder toward the table. Mingi was watching him. Glasses still perched on his nose, a faint smile curling at the corner of his lips, as if he’d just heard the sound of a trap snapping shut. He shot him a wink, taking a sip of his drink.

Yunho’s heart skipped a beat.

Yeah…

He was definitely going to have to break that one.

Hongjoong led him down the hallway that connected to the private lounges. The muffled noise of the main room faded with each step into the padded corridor, until all that remained was the rhythmic click of Yunho’s heels on the black tiles and the soft jingle of his chains rattling in time with his footsteps. They stopped in front of the main office, Hongjoong opened it without a word. Yunho walked in first, already looking jaded.

The low lighting painted soft shadows on the crimson walls, and the familiar scent of leather and Hongjoong’s cologne still lingered in the air. Yunho crossed his arms, leaning against the wall with an exaggerated sigh, legs crossed like a diva, and rolled his eyes.

“So… are you going to fire me or sell me to some filthy rich master? ’Cause either way, I’d like to keep my tips.”

Hongjoong closed the door behind them, his expression unreadable. His eyes landed on Yunho’s neck, and he sighed at the sight of yet another fresh mark.

“When are you gonna stop using Yeosang? He’s not a sadist, I told you,” he muttered.

“He’s the only one I trust,” Yunho replied with a pout, shrugging. “Since you still won’t fuck me.”

Hongjoong gave him a tired look.

“And I never will. You’re like a little brother to me.”

“If I had a brother who needed help and—”

“Yunho.”

“Woah, okay, fine! Damn.”

Talking with Yunho was more tiring than running a business, Hongjoong had always thought.

“You’re going to behave tonight, Yunho.”

A flicker of mischief flashed in the boy’s eyes. “Oh? That serious? Afraid I’ll bite him?”

“I know how you operate,” Hongjoong replied calmly but there was a thread of tension under the stillness, laced with something close to concern. “And I know the more someone looks like an alpha dom, the more you want to bring them to their knees.”

Yunho couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, it wouldn’t be fun otherwise.”

They stared at each other in silence for a moment. Then Yunho pushed off the wall, sauntering over slowly, his steps almost dragging like a feline on the prowl. He slid his arms around the older man’s neck, pressed his cheek to his temple, and whispered:

“Are you afraid he’ll like me?”

“It’s not him I’m worried about.”

Yunho stepped back, eyes widening slightly. Just for a second.

“What, is he dangerous?”

There was no fear in his voice. Just genuine curiosity.

That bright, reckless spark of wanting to play with something he didn’t understand yet. Hongjoong sighed, leaning back against the desk behind him, and rubbed a hand across his forehead.

“Mingi’s my best friend, he’s not dangerous, but that’s not what I brought you in for.” He paused, then added, “Someone reported you again. A few clients are complaining.”

Yunho stilled, his gaze a little more attentive now.

“You attract men who want to punish you just for existing the way you do,” Hongjoong said. “I’ve told you before, your attitude might be a weapon but sometimes… it draws out violence. Not the playfulness. The real thing.”

Yunho looked away, jaw tight, arms folded again as he blurted out bitterly:

“I didn’t do anything, hyung. They touch me. I defend myself. Is it my fucking fault their egos are more fragile than my damn leash?”

He laughed once, dry and sharp, running a hand through his hair just to graze the puppy ears.

“If they can’t tell the difference between violence and a scene, maybe they’re the problem. Not me.”

Hongjoong gave a slow nod, then placed a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, then gently rubbed the back of his neck, his thumb lightly pressing the new hickey decorating Yunho's neck, just a little, the boy held back a soft moan and relaxed.

“No. It’s not your fault, pup. But it is my responsibility if someone crosses a line here. And you’re… more vulnerable than you think, Yunho. Not weak, but touchable. You lose yourself when you play and some people… can see that.”

The silence fell again, heavy in the air. Then Hongjoong reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a small black key, with a red leather tag attached.

“Anyway, here. I want you to take care of Mingi and his friends. Give them the best bottles and be careful. Try not to stir too much trouble for tonight, please, and if you’re good enough, you might even get a reward.”

Yunho took the key without a word, then smiled softer this time, less provocatively. A strange tenderness, rare and almost shy, slipping into his features. What was the last time his boss had rewarded him? He couldn’t remember.

“If you’re even offering to reward me…”
He shrugged, turned on his heel, and opened the door.

“Then, I have to be a good boy, right? I’m just gonna make him think he chose me."

“Yunho—”

But the brat walked out, giggling to himself. 

Yunho took his time picking out the best bottle from the cellar before heading back upstairs. He could’ve sworn the club had gotten more crowded since earlier but whatever. That wasn’t going to ruin his plan. No one would stand between him and Mingi. He hadn’t bothered thinking up an approach; the best ones were always improvised anyway.

But frustrated—and surprised—he was, when he spotted Wooyoung casually chatting with Mingi’s friends. San was sitting obediently between Wooyoung and another Dom, letting himself be touched and petted like a free use toy. Yunho held his breath and pursed his lips as he stepped further in, scanning the VIP lounge for his target; Mingi. He will deal with his friend later.

“You look lost, pup. Need someone to find your way for you, or are you hoping to be found?”

Yunho didn’t reply right away, he slowly turned his head toward the voice, his expression impassive, and bored. It was a man he didn’t know, a middle-aged Dom with an overconfident stance and an amused gaze, like he’d sniffed out an abandoned toy. He was leaning casually against one of the VIP lounge chairs, glass half-full in hand.

Too relaxed.

So sure of himself.

Yunho turned his head away again, still searching for Mingi, fingers idly stroking the neck of the bottle he was still holding.

“Don’t you think it’s a little risky handing a leash to a dog that bites without warning?” he replied calmly, voice soft as slow poison.

The man snickered, unimpressed. He stepped closer, lowering his gaze toward Yunho as if sizing up a bratty pup.

“You sure had a big mouth for a stray dog.”

Yunho gave him a lazy smile. He didn’t need a owner. Just Mingi tonight. He needed to know what kind of dom he was.

“You know what they say about mouths, Sir,” he murmured, lashes fluttering just enough to tease. “If you can’t control what goes in or out, maybe don’t try touching one at all.”

He stepped closer, so close that their bodies might’ve brushed if he tilted his chin just a little more. The man laughed, sure of his ascendancy.

Poor fool.

“But you don’t look like someone who gets much to obey anyway,” Yunho added, dropping his gaze to the man’s pants which were already betraying a rather pathetic interest. “Want me to help you sit up before your legs give out?"

And just like that, he moved away gracefully, unbothered, not waiting for a reply, leaving the Dom stunned and speechless. The murmurs around them were just background noise now.

Yunho only had one goal.

And he had just found him, sitting not far away, in a burgundy armchair: Mingi, legs crossed, neck exposed, engaged in conversation with another man.

Something flared in Yunho’s throat, hot. Impatience. Hunger.

He moved toward him like a missile locked on its target, stepping over glances, ignoring reaching hands and the collective buzz of the club. He was going to get him tonight.

No matter how.

Mingi didn’t look up right away when Yunho reached him, as if he hadn’t noticed his presence. As if Yunho were just another sound in the noise, a blurred detail in the club’s dim light. He looked like a masterpiece abandoned in an empty museum painfully beautiful, but too far to touch.

Yunho’s breath caught in his throat.

Up close, Mingi was even more stunning.

His profile was sharp, his lips full and slightly parted, begging to be ruined. His eyes half-lidded, heavy with mystery and desire pierced with intensity. His skin had that golden hue, kissed by the sun, making the curve of his jaw, the tension in his neck, and, most of all, his sharp collarbone stand out, perfectly visible under his open jacket.

Dark strands of hair framed eyes Yunho couldn’t look away from.

And that annoyed him.

A lot.

He pulled himself together, heels digging into the floor, his usual cocky smile curling on his lips.

“Hope I didn’t make you wait too long,” Yunho chirped lightly, voice sweet with just enough edge to sting.

Mingi finally looked up.

And the entire world seemed to pause because of how ethereal he looks. He stared at the boy, up and down, with no urgency, his gaze peeling away layers shamelessly. His eyes lingered on Yunho’s boots, up his legs, to the short skirt, the see-through crop top, the chains, the collar, and especially the floppy puppy ears. Clearly eyefucking the boy.

His tongue slid lazily over his bottom lip. That alone made Yunho shiver, despite himself. Mingi said nothing for a long moment, then:

“What makes you think I was waiting for you?”

That voice deep, dry and thick with command shook Yunho’s knees. The puppy boy gave him a wide, smug smile, his invisible tail wagging, energy radiating off him like heat.

“Hm..that’s not nice. Here I even brought a bottle. Look how polite I am.”

He dropped the bottle between Mingi and the man sitting next to him, bluntly. The latter stiffened, visibly annoyed by the interruption. He opened his mouth, ready to protest, but Yunho didn't even glance at him.

“May I?” he asked anyway, already leaning in toward Mingi, arching his back, to take the empty glass from his fingers. Their hands brushed, Yunho felt it. The tension. The unspoken order not to push too far.

He ignored it.

Mingi didn’t move, but his eyes sharpened.

“You don’t have to play that game here,” he said simply.

Yunho straightened slowly, a wider smile curling his lips as he poured the wine.

“Oh? You don’t want to play with me?” he asked, fluttering his lashes, head tilted, lips pouting adorably. “Or maybe you prefer the sweet, obedient puppies?”

He licked his lips, held the glass out with both hands like an offering.

“Sorry, all the well-trained ones are already owned.”

He gave an exaggerated shrug, mock-disappointed, then he leaned in closer just close enough for their breaths to mingle.

“But lucky you, I’m here, all yours tonight.”

The glass trembled slightly between his fingers. Mingi still hadn’t said much, but his eyes said everything. Yunho couldn’t tell if it was the wine or the way the man watched him that made his thighs tense. Finally, Mingi took the glass, his thumb brushing lightly over Yunho’s knuckles. He took a slow sip, not breaking eye contact.

“You talk a lot, puppy,” he said at last.

Yunho sat back and flashed that smug, infuriating smile. The one he gave to every man who thought they could tame him.

“That’s what they all complain about.”

“And none of your masters ever taught you to shut the fuck up?”

Yunho burst out laughing, head tilted back.
God, he loved that.

That tone.

That quiet, sharp threat under all the leather.

“They all failed, will you try?”

Mingi smiled, for the first time. It hit Yunho like a slap to the chest. God, the man was so beautiful, breathtakingly gorgeous and so hot.

No no no, Yunho, he reminded himself. Stay focused. You’re here for one reason, and he might not even be worth it.

Mingi set his glass down.

“You’re testing my limits, aren’t you?”
Yunho shrugged.

“Just checking if you actually have any.”

“You think you’ll get me to snap like all the others, huh?”

Yunho tilted his head, mock-pensive.

“Snap? Maybe not. Make you har—”

“Careful.” Mingi growled, voice dark and deep. Just one word. But Yunho’s spine straightened. His body responded before his brain could catch up. The tone hadn’t risen, but something had fallen.

Hard.

Yunho tried to laugh it off, to regain some composure. He leaned in again, draping himself halfway over the armrest of the couch, legs crossing so his fishnets stretched tight across his thighs. Settling just a few inches from Mingi. He leaned closer, deliberately.

Mingi moved too, planting a hand on the armrest, trapping Yunho between his body and the cushions. His gaze dipped, lingering on the faint glint of metal beneath the mesh, Yunho’s pierced nipples catching the low light like bait. His lips parted, just slightly. For a second, he almost leaned in to bite them, almost.

Yunho gasped, barely audible.

“You’re hunting and you think you know what you’ll find. But I’m not your little power-play fantasy, Yunho. I’m not your romance master. I break toys when they squeak too loud.”

His breath ghosted over Yunho’s cheek, close enough to taste.

“ Not the way you think, doll.”

Doll, holy shit. Yunho’s pulse stuttered hard against his throat. He bit his lip so sharply it might bleed, but it was the only thing keeping him from whimpering outright.

“That’s what’s so fucking hot about you,” Yunho rasped, the words slipping out before his brain could leash them. “You’re terrifying.”

He let out a shaky exhale, eyes half-lidded, pupils blown. “But you smell so fucking good, it makes me want to kneel and sin.”

Mingi let out a soft chuckle, deep in his throat, like he found it cute. Or pathetic. Then he leaned back, unbothered, and took another slow sip of his wine, gaze still locked on Yunho like a lion humoring a trembling rabbit. This time, he finally turned slightly to the man sitting beside him, who had up until now gone unnoticed in Yunho’s tunnel vision.

“Get out.”

The other wanted to protest, but Mingi's expression was enough to make him swallow his ego. He stood up and disappeared.

Yunho slid into Mingi’s lap the next second like he’d been waiting all night for the spot, uninvited. His thighs straddled him with practiced ease, arms draped loosely around Mingi’s shoulders, face inches away. Mingi didn't even seem surprised. His hands found Yunho’s hips instinctively like muscle memory, palms firm, thumbs dragging against the sliver of skin beneath the top, warm, possessive, and grounding.

Dangerous.

“You act like a feral dog,” he muttered, voice husky. “You know what happens to pups who never learned their place?”

Yunho’s breath hitched. His lashes fluttered as he bit down on his lip again, pupils huge, heart thundering so hard he swore Mingi could feel it.

“Do they get rewarded?” he tried, feigning innocence.

Mingi leaned in, just enough for his nose to graze Yunho’s jaw, his lips brushing the shell of his ear without ever kissing. His voice dropped lower:

“They get leashed. They wait. They beg. And they get punished, hard.”

Mingi’s grip tightened around Yunho’s waist. A full-body shiver ran through Yunho. He tried to speak, tried to keep up the banter but his throat was dry, his brain too fogged. He wasn’t scared, though.

Not yet.

But for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t in control. Not completely.

And it was terribly addictive.

His hands splayed on Mingi’s chest, for balance purposes of course, but his hips rolled slowly against Mingi’s lap, needy, teasing.

“You know I’m gonna make your life hell, right?” Yunho whispered, voice thinner than he intended, breath hitching as he dared to look him in the eyes.

“You know I’m gonna make you cry harder, right?”

Then, without warning, his hand left Yunho’s hip and wrapped around his throat, not tight, not yet, but firm. Controlling. His rings hurting, just enough to make Yunho’s breath catch in his lungs and his cock twitch against the press of their bodies.

Yunho whimpered. His thighs clenched around Mingi’s waist, and his lip wobbled as he bit it again, wide eyes shining, half-dazed.

“Fuck,” he breathed, so quietly it was more confession than curse.

Mingi tilted his head just slightly, thumb stroking the column of Yunho’s throat, lips ghosting close again but still not kissing.

“You’ll beg for mercy,” he said. “And I’ll decide if you deserve it.”

The man was so hot, Yunho needs to see him in action now.

“Promise?”

“Warning.”

Yunho laughed again, shaking his shoulders like a dog that had found a bone too big to chew and loved it for that exact reason. Mingi removes his hand, Yunho didn’t like it. He was already in need to replace his necklaces with the dom’s veiny hands.

“I can’t wait for you to prove it.”

Mingi didn’t respond immediately. He just looked at him long and hard. Like a king studying a lost soldier. A bit broken. A bit too bold for his own good. Then, slowly, he slid a hand down on Yunho’s thigh, gripped a thread of the fishnets and pulled hard.

“This isn’t a game, pretty boy. ‘Cause when you start begging…”

His thumb slipped just inside Yunho’s thigh, digging his nail just enough to make him jolt.

“…I won’t allow you to speak.”

Yunho stifled a moan. He looked up, defiant and flushed.

“You really think you can break me?”

Mingi devoured him with his eyes.

“No. I'm going to train you. And make you love it”

He grabbed Yunho’s half-full glass and brought it to the boy’s lips.

“Drink up. You’ll need it.”

Yunho obeyed without a word. Without resistance. Cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with heat. But Yunho being the little shit he was, he was never going to hand over his leash willingly.

You had to earn it or rip it from his throat.

So as he licked the last drop of wine from his lips, eyes still dark with heat, his insolence returned in full force.

“That's all you got, princess? You're just gonna talk me to death?”

Mingi's gaze shifted, darker, rougher than it had all evening. If he’d planned on taking it slow…Yunho had just ruined that and Mingi intended to make him pay for it tonight.

“Go on, little pup, I’m dying to ruin that little mouth of yours, ‘til you forget who the fuck you were before I touched you.”

__

With so many people at the Red Fantasy that night, Yunho had been forced to cut his little break short. Well... forced was a bit of an overstatement. It was more that Mingi had dismissed him with a single look and a simple, offhanded, “Get back to work," spoken in a calm, indifferent tone, and yet laced with that sharp-edged nonchalance that cut deeper than any shouted command.

Not that Yunho cared. Or, well yes. Of course he did. He fucking cared but he wasn’t about to show it.He was the Yunho after all.

He was that brat everyone wanted to tame. The cheeky puppy every doms dreamed of breaking, that rare, glimmering plaything too self-aware to be manipulated like the others. He had personal clearance from the boss, Hongjoong himself, to attend to Mingi and his friends, to be at his table, at his feet, in his lap if he’d wanted. He could have spent the whole night pouring wine into his lap, chewing on straws while locking eyes, brushing his thigh under the guise of being attentive.

But San was overwhelmed, the newbies were lost, and Yunho—in a rare display of professionalism—had risen. He'd gone back to work. Tray in hand. Hips dancing. Smile too wide, to be honest.

And since that moment, since that damn moment, Mingi hadn’t given him a single second of attention. No glance. No smirk. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment as if Yunho had become invisible.

As if the little game of tension between them had been nothing more than a hallucination, a fantasy he’d misread.

And that was intolerable.

Yunho had known masters. He'd had doms, tops, bullies, pretentious people, poets who whispered promises into his bruises, sadists, monsters. He'd known the fiery stares, the greedy mouths, the barked orders, the hands on his throat, and the teeth in his skin. He'd broken more than one. He'd tired even more. But never—never—had one looked at him like that and then dared to look away. Turning their backs after setting the hook.

You don’t promise with your eyes and walk away.

Not after looking like that. Not after tasting the air between them like it belonged to both of them. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste his blood.

Unacceptable.

He was beautiful, he knew that. Sexy, insolent. Sometimes insufferable. Cute when he wanted to be. Irresistible when he didn't want to be. He was a walking fantasy, a stage all his own. He knew he could turn on entire rooms with a mere wink.

And now Mingi was just… ignoring him?

No. That wasn’t how this worked. Yunho walks away, never the other way around.

So yeah, call him an attention whore, an insatiable drama queen, a frustrated puppy in heat, he didn’t give a single fuck.

Yunho was about to combust. He could feel it in every inch of his skin. A sour heat, a tension ready to make him implode. His breathing quickened, his fingers trembled a little too much when he served the drinks. His body was craving something he couldn't find anymore. That delicious fear, that real submission, not acted, not dramatized, not sexy to others. Just real.

And Mingi was the last and best hope of feeling that again.

But if he refused to play?

Then Yunho would make him regret it.

A bottle placed too close to a customer. A wink sent to a dom he despised. A kiss blown on the neck of another, accompanied by a sweet laugh. A smear on his cheek, a look heavy with promises he would never keep. He wandered from table to table like an hyperactive puppy, a shooting star of despair, provocation and rebellion.

He even went so far as to bark for a customer. A real high-pitched bark, obscene and provocative. And when the man pressed himself against him, hard, dirty, hungry, Yunho didn't flinch. He didn't even smile.

He kept his eyes locked on Mingi.

Look at me, you fucking bastard.

But Mingi remained impassive. He was chatting quietly with his friends, glass in hand, stretched out. His face betrayed nothing. As if he wasn't letting a puppy die of envy a few meters away. Yunho's heart was pounding so hard he felt nauseous. He was smiling, of course. Always. But his eyes were burning.

He glanced toward the dance floor.

San was laughing his head off at something Wooyoung was whispering in his ear. Yunho didn't hear the sound of the laughter because of the music, but seeing how San tilted his head back, his tray still pressed against him, his face twitched.

So the puppy boy did worse. He walked past Mingi’s table, tray in hand. Without looking at him, he dropped a napkin on purpose. Then he bent down to pick it up, slowly, so slow it was obscene. Back arched. Ass up. And the fabric of his skirt barely brushed his thighs, revealing just enough the satin pink of his panties.

One of Mingi’s friends choked.

“Oh… fuck.”

Yunho straightened with a flick of his hair then turned, finger to his lips. “Shhhh.” followed by a mocking wink.

The men lost it.

But still nothing. Nothing from Mingi.

Later, Yunho came back. Place a glass on the table, and slide it toward Mingi, fingers following the motion like a whisper across skin.

“Is this how you plan to train me?” he murmured.

Mingi pulled the glass away and drank it, still not acknowledging his presence. Yunho felt his throat tremble. He chuckled. A hollow, painful sound because he wasn't laughing. Not at all. A sound cracked at the edges. He leaned down until his lips brushed the dom’s ear, his breath hot.

“You already regret this, don’t you? Because you know you can’t punish me, princess.”

The word dropped like poison. Last bullet in the chamber. Mingi’s reply was ice.

“I think you’d be more useful at that table over there. Go.”

Goddamnit.

Yunho stepped back, heart in his throat. His hands were cold and clammy, he was frustrated. He wanted to scream. Hit him, kiss him. Fall to his knees. Anything to make the man react. But he did none of that. He simply turned around, his steps trembling, breath coming out ragged, a bitter laugh stuck in the back of his throat.

And behind him, finally, Mingi looked up. He let his gaze roam the boy's back, slowly and deliberately. He observed the tension in his arms, the trembling in his steps, the anger wracking him. And the curve of his ass, squeezed tight under that skirt, begging to be obliterated.

But it wasn't desire that burned in Mingi's chest. He could taste Yunho's pain from his seat, and that was what made it exquisite. He didn't want a puppy that rolled over. He wanted the one that would bare its teeth first… Then whimpered when it realised it couldn't win.

Mingi hadn't looked, because he wanted to, but because he knew exactly what would happen if he did. So he kept his gaze on his drink, on the subs across the lounge. On the meaningless chatter around the table. On everything but the boy setting his cheekbones on fire. He half-listened to a conversation. Nodded at a joke he didn’t hear.

He drank slowly, letting the fire simmer in his chest instead of erupting. Mingi made people bend. He will make Yunho bend to his rules.

At least, that was the plan.

He'd known it the second Hongjoong introduced them. The second that bratty smile sliced through the air, glossy and arrogant. The way he sucked on his straw like a threat. The way he said, “I’m all yours,” as if he meant, “you’re already mine”.

Yunho was a wildfire. He declared war without thinking of the consequences, and Mingi had no intention of surrendering to someone like him.

Ignoring him was the smartest play for a brat of his caliber.

Even when he strutted through the lounge like a fucking incubus. Even when he threw glares sharp enough to draw blood. When he bent down, showed off just enough satin to short-circuit the entire table. Even when he barked.

Especially when he barked.

That sound had ricocheted through Mingi’s spine.

He had gripped his glass tighter. Swallowed slower and the inside of his cheek just hard enough to keep still. Because Yunho wanted attention and Mingi wasn't giving what he wanted. He was giving what he deserved.

Yet, he felt it.

The desperation.

The need.

The unraveling.

It vibrated through the air, coiling around him like a leash begging to be pulled. Yunho’s stare was noisy. His body even louder, when he’d bent down and whispered filth into Mingi’s ear: “You can’t punish me, princess.”

Mingi saw red.

But he didn’t show it.

Not yet.

He gave him the only punishment that mattered; Cold and distant. He released him like a rabid dog in a locked cage, searching for a way out. Shaking slightly as if the embers inside him had no more room to burn. But Mingi knew that fire wouldn’t die so easily. He could feel it, like static before a storm. This wasn’t about attention or performance. Yunho wasn’t acting for the room. There was something brutal under all that layer of provocations, snark, and indecent gestures. Something aching to be broken.

His gaze dropped back to his drink, to the noise around him, but his mind was silent. Voices blurred, laughter faded. Even the sound of fingers drumming on glass lost meaning. He wasn’t listening anymore. He was thinking about the absence.

About the void Yunho had carved into the space around him. And now, Mingi was alone with it. That painful pull in his lower back. That slow throb in his temple. That need, not to fuck—that would have been too easy—but to break him.

To have him pinched, slowly, watching that feral little puppy whimper apologies from his knees. Until he understands that attention is not given to the loudest, but to the one who knows how to wait and beg nicely.

And Yunho wasn’t ready for that.

Not yet.

Still, Mingi hated the idea of anyone else touching him. Yunho rubbing himself against Yeosang’s thighs makes Mingi remember what Hongjoong had said, warned even, about Yeosang.

About the feelings Yeosang had for Yunho, even though he was a sub himself and how Yunho used him, toyed with him, just to satisfy his cravings when they got too loud.

That little shit.

Mingi downed his glass in one go and waved over a server. Not Yunho, obviously. No way he was calling him to his table. Never again. He gave quick, quiet instructions to the boy, then stood up.

Jacket draped over his shoulders, his steps slow and controlled. No one questioned him. Because he was Mingi. And Mingi did whatever the fuck he wanted. He crossed the room without looking at Yunho, but he felt him. The way his back stiffened. The twitch in his neck, he didn’t turn around. He disappeared into the back hallway, where the lights were dim, and the pulse of the club faded behind padded walls. Where he could think.

Or—more honestly—where he could stop himself from doing something he was going to love too much. He stood there for a few seconds, back against the wall. Eyes closed, he saw Yunho again, bent over, lips parted, laughing like a broken doll on the verge of tears. He saw that wink, that shush..., that little bark. He saw the frustration in his eyes when he'd been rejected. And something in his chest rumbled.

A decision.

He pulled out his phone, fingers typing faster than usual:

“Joong, send Yunho to the room. Now.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He climbed the stairs to the VIP rooms and stepped inside the dark space. He closed the door behind him and sat down in the armchair at the far end, legs spread, elbows on his knees. Eyes fixed on the door.

He wasn’t going to ignore Yunho anymore.

He was going to answer him. Exactly the way he deserved.

Yunho’s fingers trembled as he climbed the stairs, breath shallow, chest tight with a mix of excitement and impatience. He hadn't even waited for Hongjoong to finish his sentence. He hadn't needed to. Just two words “Mingi" and "room" and his brain had switched off. His tray had landed on the bar counter, and he'd scampered off without a backward glance, like an overjoyed puppy finally granted its walk.

He already knew which room it was. He’d noticed it earlier, the brushed-metal plaque on the door like all the exclusive playrooms reserved for VIPs. Master Song. He’d assumed it was some rich, pompous old snob, the kind who demanded to be called Sir yet couldn’t tie a proper wrist knot to save their life. He’d been wrong. And he loved being wrong when it was like this.

The boy didn’t wait for another beat. He flung the door open, ready to bite, ready to play. But the obscurity stopped him in his tracks. He blinked. The room was shrouded in thick, suffocating almost claustrophobic darkness. Not a sound. Just a heavy silence, interrupted only by his own heavy breathing.

And then, a voice. “Close the door.”

Yunho jumped, his mouth falling open in a surprised small oh. He searched for the source of the voice, his breath coming in short bursts. It was definitely Mingi. Deep. Steady. Without urgency, but with sharp intent. The boy let out a small laugh, nervous and amused at the same time. He closed the door.Click. Even turned the lock, just for the thrill of being a good boy.

Obey, then break the illusion of control. Always in that order.

“Press the switch near the door.”

Yunho rolled his eyes in the dark but obeyed, again. His fingers found the button.Click. Light bathed the room — soft but clear — revealing the scene.

And Mingi himself, seated in the chair beside the bed, legs spread wide, an unlit cigarette between his lips. Staring at Yunho like a prey that had willingly walked into the wolf’s den.

The room was a typical private playroom of Red Fantasy, but in its most luxurious form. Black-padded walls, a plush plum-colored carpet. Two-way mirrors lined the ceiling and sections of the walls, offering a full view of every motion. Hooks on the walls, gleaming metal rings. A large, polished Saint Andrew’s cross stood to one side. The spanking bench took center stage near the bed, black leather, matching straps hanging from the sides. A vaulting horse. And a more discreet corner, lined with cushions, a display of toys: dildos, plugs, punishment tools made of leather, wood, and steel. All lit like a museum exhibit.

But what caught Yunho’s eye was the stack of papers placed neatly on the spanking bench. He stepped forward slowly, curious.

What is—

“A consent contract.” Mingi answered as if reading his mind.

Yunho narrowed his eyes, a warm pulse twisting at the base of his spine.

“Take it and read carefully. You have two options: sign or leave.”

The tone was neutral. No seduction. No challenge. Just plain fact and yet Yunho felt his throat tighten.

A contract…

It had been so long. So long since anyone had asked for his consent. So long since anyone let him choose. Mingi was watching his reaction closely. The boy reached out and brushed his hand against the paper. But he didn't read it. He didn't care. That wasn't what thrilled him. What turned him on was that Mingi had offered it in the first place. It was the rule laid down, the structure imposed, the promise that this scene wouldn’t be like the others.

So he signed. Without reading a single line. One clean stroke. A wide, confident signature. He slowly raised his head, chin tilted, a grin blooming on his lips like every second of silence fed it.

“I signed. No turning back. What now?”

The silence that followed was suffocating, but he didn’t have time to make a snide remark.

“Strip.”

The word slapped the air like a whip. Yunho blinked, caught off guard. “Ugh?” he breathed, staring at the man across from him.

No smile or explanation, Mingi simply lit his cigarette, ignoring him. Yunho noticed the gloves recovering Mingi’s ringed fingers.

“All of it. The skirt stays on.”

Yunho froze, heart pounding against his ribs. There was something in Mingi’s voice, in his posture…A cold authority, devoid of doubt. Devoid of mercy. A clear, precise command that made him want to drop to his knees.

He looked down at himself; the collar, the crop top. The fishnets. The chains. He inhaled deeply. Squared his shoulders, a smile stretched his lips but this time, the smile was harder and less controlled.

“I'm not sure you deserve to see me naked so soon, you know,” he murmured, rocking impudently on his feet, fingers grazing the bare skin of his thigh slowly. A shiver ran through him.

Mingi didn’t respond right away. He exhaled slowly, the cigarette smoke trapped between his lips, slipping away from his thoughts. His gaze, dark and unreadable, stayed locked on Yunho's without a blink. He hadn't moved. Not even a small frown. But everything in his body screamed controlled patience. And that's what terrified and excited Yunho the most. 

“I didn’t ask your opinion. Hurry up.”

Yunho’s skin reacted. Every nerve in his body seemed to tighten the moment he truly understood what those words truly meant. This wasn’t a negotiation. And he had already signed.

“And I don’t feel like obeying though..”

No answer. Mingi didn’t take the bait. Yunho frowned, a flicker of irritation in his voice.

“What are you gonna do?”

Still nothing. The silence slapped harder than any insult. Yunho swallowed. He hated this void. It was a tactic, he knew it, and he hated it. He could feel his mask slipping, slowly, dragged down by a force he couldn’t resist. His fingers found the hem of his crop top. He peeled it off slowly, up along his skin and pulled off the mesh, exposing his torso and light abs, his pinky pierced nipples hard from the A/C and adrenaline.

Mingi still didn’t move.

Not a whistle of admiration, not a word, not even a lingering look. He was looking. Yes. But like one examines a piece of art before deciding how to take it apart. Yunho slid off his fishnets next, fingers trembling slightly against the elastic. But his smile held, stitched together with sarcasm and false ease. He removed his jewelry, one by one, laying them out on the table. Now he stood there, shirtless, legs bare under the skirt. His collar and puppy ears, still in place.

“There. Happy, princess?” His voice was a whisper, more fragile than he meant it to be.

“Kneel. Hands on thighs.”

Yunho clenched his teeth. His neck twitched as if to resist but his legs moved on their own. He dropped to his knees, hands resting straight on his thighs, back upright. Mingi stood up slowly. Yunho felt all the air vanish from the room as the dom walked over, unhurried, and stopped in front of him.

He looked taller, broader.

“Safeword?”

“…Spiderman.”

Mingi huffed. This kid was something else.

With gloved fingers, he grabbed Yunho’s collar just under the chin and yanked it up, forcing Yunho to lift his face, just enough to be looked down on.

“This collar’s too soft for you. You don’t deserve it.”

Yunho raised an eyebrow with a defiant grin, but he didn’t get the chance to speak, Mingi yanked the collar off so violently, causing Yunho to gasped. “What the—?”

“Shut up, slut.”

And that’s how Yunho ended up with his wrists bound behind his back in less than five minutes, leather harness biting into his bare skin, stretching his spine and pulling his shoulders. He was a contradiction in the shape of a boy: kneeling proudly, yet with his gaze lowered; lips parted as if reaching for a reason to speak, though he’d already lost that right.

The harness bit deeper into his back with every breath. The straps chafed against his bare ribs, each shift branding him in silence. His wrists were bound tight behind him, forcing his chest forward, fully exposed. He panted quietly, the tension in his thighs melting into the heat building low in his gut. But he held on, proudly. Stubborn little mutt.

Mingi circled him slowly, deliberately, like he was staking a claim on the ground around his prey. He stopped behind him for a moment, his gloved fingers brushing Yunho’s bare shoulder, his neck and then slid down his spine, the caress too gentle yet too cruel for the boy. Mingi paused right there, at the base of Yunho’s nape, where the skin was soft, thin, vulnerable.

He pressed his thumb down. Hard enough to make Yunho flinch.

“Oh fuck, do that again, harder.” Yunho’s voice shook with need. He was burning, and he knew Mingi could feel it. He wanted him to feel it. That was the game.

“You want pain, pup?” Mingi murmured, a low amused sound in his throat.

Yunho held his breath, turning his head just slightly, lifting his chin in defiance. He didn't answer.

Mingi leaned in, his body almost grazing Yunho’s back. Not touching fully, just close enough for heat to bloom between them. His breath ghosted over Yunho’s ear.

“I asked you a question.”

“And I don’t feel like answering.”

The silence that followed grew darker, heavier. Mingi exhaled slowly, one final drag from his cigarette before he let the smoke curl through the air like the last thread of his patience.

“I’m starting to feel insulted, princess. You really think you’re going to break me that easily?” Yunho added with a mock pout, but the moment the words left his mouth, Mingi’s expression shifted.

His laugh was cold. Short and deadly. He walked to the table and crushed the cigarette into the glass ashtray. The sound of the butt sizzling against crystal cracked the silence.

“First,” Mingi said, his voice low and sharp, “we’re fixing that fucking mouth of yours. I don’t like your tone.”

Before Yunho could blink, the slap landed. Short and sharp, not enough to hurt thanks to the gloves, but enough to sting because of the rings, for Yunho to sense what was coming next. His head jerked to the side as he gasped in shock.

“OH FUCK—”

A second slap, harder to knock the wind out of him. Yunho reeled, dizzy with shock, with need. Holy shit! This. This is what he’d wanted. For Mingi to do something, To stop talking and finally act. He's been slapped in scenes before, but this was different.

“You don’t speak unless I say so. You answer only when it’s a direct question. And if you want my touch, you earn it. Understood?”

Yunho’s whole body vibrated, tense like a bowstring. He didn’t know if he wanted to cry, laugh or beg. Instead, he nodded once. Mingi stared down at him.

“Too easy for you to get off by disobeying. Don’t fucking look at me unless I tell you to.”
He tilted Yunho’s chin up with a single finger, forcing his eyes to meet his own.

“I’m not like those desperate men who want to claim you. I don’t want you. I’ll break you. Nerve by nerve. Until the sound of my voice alone makes you wet and terrified at the same time.”

He let go. Yunho nearly whimpered. His throat clenched with silence he wasn’t allowed to break, he wanted to, just to see what Mingi would do.

“You’re going to stay here. Kneeling. Not moving. And you’re going to think about what you want. From me. From this. From yourself.”

Mingi turned and sat down again, legs crossed, arms resting calmly on the chair. He looked like a man watching the weather change.

“And I'm warning you,” he added. “If you speak again without permission, I’ll stuff you with a cold, silent plug and leave you like that all night. Got it?”

Yunho swallowed hard and nodded, he didn't want to test this, it wasn’t fun and he won’t get what he wants. So, he stayed there, kneeling. His knees digging into the soft carpet, back straight, throat tight. The silence was a cage. Not the kind he was used to, the kind that followed bad scenes or lazy Doms. This was different, intentional. Mingi didn’t need to touch him to make him ache. He didn’t even need to move.

He just watched calmly, composed. And Yunho felt each second trickle down his skin like acid. His jaw clenched. His spine screamed. He fought not to shift, not to squirm, not to break. But every nerve in his body begged for contact, for release, for a goddamn word. Mingi sipped whiskey in silence, not even looking at him or pretending not to. But Yunho knew; he was looking at him the whole time.

It was unbearable.

The soft lighting cast shadows across his chest. The harness pulled taut across his shoulders, exaggerating every breath, every twitch and every inch of bare, vulnerable skin.

What if I move? What if I talk? Will he still ignore me? How long can I take this? Would he reward me if I behaved?

His cock pressed against the inside of his skirt, thick and aching. Shame curled hot in his stomach. He shouldn’t be this turned on. Not from nothing. Not from silence. But here he was. Trembling with unreleased tension. A drop of sweat traced down his temple, hot and humiliating. Seeing Mingi fully dressed while he is half naked, on his knees..

He was hot.

He was too hot.

And still, the silence.

When he finally dared to look up discreetly, Mingi was still seated. Still watching.

And then he spoke.

“You’re holding out better than I expected,” he said smoothly. “But this is still too easy. You haven’t paid for your attitude tonight, pup.”

Yunho bit down on the inside of his cheek. He wanted to snap back. Deny it. Beg for more. But he said nothing. He doesn’t want to be plugged all night for nothing.

“You’ll look even more beautiful crying.”

Mingi rose. Yunho’s heart skipped a beat as the dom walked slowly toward him. Circling again, he stopped behind him and once more placed a hand on the back of his neck.

Pressed down.

Yunho moaned, weakly. This touch was like fire.

“This is better. Now you’re feeling what I want you to feel.”

He leaned down, hooked two fingers beneath Yunho’s chin, and forced him to face him.

“You want me to humiliate you? Hurt you? Should I force you? »

A pause, Yunho’s breath hitched.

« Is this what we’re doing all night? » Yunho couldn’t help himself, and Mingi just chuckled.

“You’re so frustrated, aren’t you? Poor little thing.”

Running his tongue over his lower lip, he suppressed a sigh. There were so many things he wanted to do, but they only had a few hours. So he decided to keep it simple.

Mingi’s lips hovered just above the boy’s as he undid the bindings around his wrists. Fingers smooth and efficient.

“I’m going to make you beg just to be looked at again.”

He pulled away and walked to the far end of the room. The toys.

“On all fours.”

Yunho hesitated. His eyes faltered. Mingi raised a brow.

“You decide. Stay kneeling, and I keep ignoring you. Crawl to me, and I’ll take care of you.”

The pressure cracked. Yunho dropped forward, palms to the floor, elbows shaking. His knees dug in. His wrists throbbed from the tight harness. His head hung low, hair falling like a curtain. He crawled and Mingi walked back, meeting him halfway. He placed a boot between the boy’s shoulder blades and pressed to crush him in the exact position he'd been wanting. Yunho’s face was pressed to the floor, ass up, breath shallow.

Mingi’s boot dragged slowly down the curve of his spine. “Fucking brat,” he muttered again, as if the insult alone could pierce skin. Yunho tries his hardest not to moan. The dom left him there, crushed against the floor, for a few more seconds, maybe a minute. Just enough time to grab a plug. Too small to satisfy, but big enough to bruise the boy’s little hole. No lube.

Yunho gasped, his whole body twitching with anticipation.

“You didn’t really think the pain would come from an empty hole, did you?”

Mingi pushed it in slowly. Yunho clawed at the carpet, welcoming the burn but it wasn’t easy. His Master pressed a vibrating bullet against the base of the plug and turned it on to the lowest setting.

Yunho moaned, unable to stay quiet.

“I said shut the fuck up,” Mingi growled and slapped him again.

He grabbed Yunho by the hair and roughly yanked him up to a kneeling position. Then reached for one of his pierced nipple bars and pulled hard. Yunho screamed. A clean, raw sound torn straight from his chest. He hadn’t expected it. Or maybe… he’d expected it too much.

“Too much?”

“N-no…”

Mingi pulled again, slower this time. The metal tugged at the sensitive skin, drawing the nipple forward, elongating it. Yunho tried to squirm away, but with his back arched like that, he was exposed. Utterly vulnerable.

And Mingi knew it.

“Stay straight. Breathe. Think about your safeword if you need it.”

Yunho didn’t answer. But his eyes were glossy with tears, half fear, half hunger. And the shame of wanting all of it.

The dom reached into a nearby box and pulled out something else: a sleek, silver clamp connected by a fine chain, sleek and cruel. He crouched in front of Yunho and spread his legs with a sharp nudge of his boot, then clipped the first clamp to the pierced nipple.

Yunho whimpered.

The second clamp followed. Then the chain was pulled tight behind his harness, just enough tension so every breath—every shift—dragged the metal against his skin. He squeaked as the bite of it tore through him. His back arching violently. He tried to hold back, but tears welled at the corners of his eyes. He was so fucking beautiful.

“That’s it. Cry for me,” Mingi whispered darkly. “I want to see what my little pain slut looks like when he breaks.”

He yanked the chain once. Yunho’s scream was high-pitched this time. Almost hysterical. His forehead hit the rug. His knees folded, ass up, his skirt flipped and bunched around his waist.

“There.” Mingi stood back to admire the sight. “Such a pretty boy.”

His little masterpiece.

“Still having fun?”

Yunho bit down on his own tongue, hiccupping, “Y-Yes, Master.”

“Good.”

I’m a good boy..Yunho thought.

Mingi walked to the bench. Picked up a riding crop, thin, not too long. Just long enough to hiss when it sliced air. The sound alone made Yunho’s cock twitch helplessly, his heart racing.

“You’re already hard? And I haven’t even touched your hole yet.”

CRACK. The crop landed across his nipples. Yunho howled.

Another hit. And another. Left. Right. Left. Right. No mercy, Mingi didn’t stop until the skin was burning red and Yunho collapsed forward again, with a strangled sob, forehead to the floor.

“Up,” Mingi ordered coldly. “Show me how proud you are to suffer.”

Yunho rose, trembling. Shakily straightening despite the pain radiating through his chest. His thighs were wet now, trembling, body shivering as if high. Mingi slipped two gloved fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue. “Suck. Like it’s my cock. Like you need it to breathe.”

Yunho obeyed like a starving thing. No hesitation. He gagged as Mingi pushed deeper. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

“That’s better. You’re nothing. You’re just a toy and you love being mine, aren't you?”

Yunho nodded frantically, still gagging on the fingers. The plug vibrated weakly inside him, and he hated and loved the feeling of frustration at the same time.

“What’s that, pup? I thought you were a disobedient little slut who got off on humiliating Doms?”

Yunho shut his eyes, sucking harder.

“I thought you’d put up a fight. Turns out, you’re just an attention-starved whore.”

Mingi chuckled and stepped back. Slowly unbuckled his belt with agonizing slowness. He let it hang from his hand, heavy and threatening, brushing it along the inside of Yunho’s inner thigh. The boy twitched, already bracing for the strike.

“You’ll count. You'll thank me and beg for the next. If you fuck up, we start over. Understood?”

Yunho hesitated. Just for a moment, torn between rebellion and obedience. But his desire to be a good boy finally gets the better of the brat as he whispers : “Yes, Master.”

The first strike cut through the silence like a gunshot. Yunho jolted forward, nearly losing balance. He took a deep breath.

“One. Thank you, Master. May I have another?”

The second was harder. The third, crueler. Fourth, precise. Each strike, carefully placed; thighs, arms, back, never the same spot twice. Turning pain into an artform was Mingi’s domain. Yunho’s thighs trembled, marked with red. His voice frayed. But he never missed a count. He choked on numbers between screams, drool and tears spilling. By the eighth, he was shaking. By the thirteenth, he came.

Tears clung to his lashes, but the small smile on his lips was blasphemous. Mingi watched him collapse with a wicked grin, then grabbed Yunho’s face and squeezed his cheeks.

“You fucking came already?” Mingi growled. “You worthless little whore. You couldn’t even last ten minutes.”

Yunho whimpered, eyes glassy and wet. “I… I’m sorry…”

Mingi leaned in and licked the tear off his cheek. “You’re lucky, I like my toys pathetic.”

Then came the leash, not the soft velvet one Yunho used to wear. This one was a thick, rough leather that bit into his neck the second it snapped on. Yunho gasped, his body arching involuntarily. The plug inside him shifted with every tiny motion, too small to satisfy, too large to ignore. It pulsed with every clench, stretching him just enough to tease, to hurt, to humiliate.

He felt Mingi’s fingers twist into his hair, yanking his head back.

“Look at me while I ruin you.”

Yunho’s breath hitched, neck stretched, tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. Mingi crouched behind him, the heat of his body spilling across Yunho’s skin like fire through paper. The leash clicked into place with a sharp snap.

Then, pressure. Mingi tugged just enough to force his spine to arch.

“Nice posture,” he murmured. “Such a pathetic little body.”

Yunho’s thighs shook. “Please…”

“Please what?” Mingi’s voice was cruel, wrapped in silk. “Use your words or I’ll keep playing with your ass while you cry into the floor.”

Yunho whimpered. “Please… use me. Please hurt me.”

Mingi chuckled low. “Beg like a real pain slut. Come on. Tell me what you need.”

Yunho trembled, eyes brimming. “I need you to wreck me. Break me, Master… please…”

A loud smack cut him off. The first paddle hit landed on his left cheek. Another on the right. The sound echoed in the stillness. Mingi watched the red bloom like spilled wine. “Good puppy. Such a pretty crier.”

He increased the frequency of the plug, too many sensations, and Yunho was losing his mind. The dom grabbed a gag and shoved it between Yunho’s lips, tightening the strap behind his head. Then placed a boot between his shoulder blades again, pushing him, resuming the paddling harder. The clamps on the boy’s nipples rubbed painfully against the rug.

Yunho sobbed against the gag, drool dripping from his lips as his body jolted with every strike. His cock throbbed beneath his skirt, leaking with pre-cum. Pathetic. He hadn’t even been touched yet.

Mingi reached between his legs and slapped his balls hard. Yunho couldn’t even make a sound anymore.

“You really thought I’d let you cum again?”

I’ve been a good boy, Yunho wanted to scream.

Mingi ripped the plug out with no warning, slow, steady, merciless. Yunho collapsed forward, gasping like a whore, his legs spasming violently. Will Mingi fuck him? Will he let him cum again? Will Mingi take care of him after all this or is he a bastard like all his former masters? Yunho’s mind was spiralling into the dark. He needed to be hurt, painfully hurt, to stop thinking, to stop thinking about his pathetic life.

“Spread.”

Yunho obeyed with a trembling hand, pulling himself open, his hole twitching from overstimulation. Raw. Empty. Starving.

Mingi leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “You’re going to stay just like this while I fuck you with something bigger.”

He pressed the new toy in, thicker, longer, colder. Yunho shut his eyes, forehead hitting the floor. It hurt. It burned. And it was everything he wanted.

Mingi removed the gag.

“You love this,” Mingi whispered, slowly fucking the toy in and out of his ruined hole. “You love the pain. You love being nothing but a hole to fill.”

“Yes,” Yunho sobbed. “Yes, I love it, I’m yours, I’m yours…”

Mingi groaned and shoved the toy all the way in, then grabbed the back of Yunho’s head and forced it down harder against the floor. His own cock strained in his pants now, but he wasn’t in a rush. This wasn’t about him.

This was about breaking the brat.

“Now,” he said, sliding a hand under Yunho’s skirt and gripping his cock. “You’re going to hold it. No cumming. No moaning. Or we start over.”

He stroked him, slow at first, then fast. Switching pace. Just enough to drag him to the edge. Just enough to make his thighs twitch and his voice shake.

Yunho gasped, crying harder. “Please—I can’t—I can’t hold it…”

“You can,” Mingi growled in his ear. “Because I said so.”

And then, he stopped.

Hand gone. Warmth gone, no permission, no relief.

Yunho screamed into the floor, body violently shuddering from the denied orgasm.

“Good pup.” Mingi’s voice was low. Satisfied. “That’s what I want. That’s what I fucking own.”

He yanked the leash again, dragging Yunho’s head up. “You’re a toy,” he spat. “A fucking plaything. Mine to use. Mine to deny. Mine to praise when you suffer beautifully like this.”

Yunho nodded frantically, lips wet, tears dripping down his chin.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours,” Yunho choked. “I’m your toy. Your good boy. Please keep me like this—don’t stop, don’t stop—”

When Mingi pulled away, Yunho was panting, crying, red, and devastated, his cock still hard, oozing, untouched. It throbbed against his stomach like a cruel joke, veins prominent, the tip flushed and leaking onto the hardwood beneath him. And yet, Mingi hadn’t even looked at it.

He was breathtaking—so devastatingly beautiful it felt sacrilegious to look at him like this. An angel, wrecked and weeping, lips trembling, eyes glistening. Mingi had never seen anyone look so perfect while crying. His cock throbbed hard against the fabric of his pants. He needed to fuck him. Right there. In that little skirt. Until the boy sobbed, until he passed out, until his pretty mouth forgot how to beg.

“Color?” Mingi asked, voice low this time, tenderly.

Yunho blinked through his tears. “…Green,” he whispered.

Mingi’s lips curled. “Good boy.”

The praise felt so good it was like a stroke on Yunho’s cock. Mingi leaned back on his heels, watching Yunho like a king watching his most entertaining pet squirm. “Now. Show me how badly you want to be used.”

Yunho flinched at the tone. It wasn’t cruel. Just expectant. As if Mingi already knew he’d do it.

“I…” Yunho licked his lips. “Please…”

“Uh-uh,” Mingi interrupted. “You know the rules. Properly, crawl. Bark. Beg for it.”

Yunho’s cheeks flamed, even after everything. But shame had long stopped being an obstacle. He rose on all four, back arched, knees wide. He crawled forward slowly, hips swaying like a bitch in heat. His leash dragged behind him, collar tight, the toy still buried in his ass shifting with every motion. He avoided his reflection on the glasses.

“Woof.” A tiny bark.

Mingi raised an eyebrow.

“Woof, woof!,” Yunho said again, louder, more desperate, the sound cracked and soaked in humiliation. “WOOF! WOOF!” He dragged his cheek along the smooth leather of Mingi’s boot, smearing sweat and tears across it, nose brushing the toe like a needy little dog.

“Please, sir. Please, master. I’ll be good, I’ll be so good, I’ll take it all, just…just use me. Fuck me. Please. I want to choke on your cock. I want to cry on it. I want you to ruin my throat before you wreck my hole. Please—”

Mingi let out a low chuckle. Cold and unimpressed.

“You think that little performance makes up for how fucking mouthy you were earlier?” he asked, finally raising his gaze. “You think barking like a pathetic mutt is enough to deserve my cock?”

Yunho froze. And then, prettily, dropped lower. His knees spread wider on the hardwood. He arched his back. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Please let me earn it. I’ll do anything.”

Mingi leaned back against the wall and patted his thigh. “Come on, pup. Show me.”

Yunho obeyed like he was wired for it, leash dragging behind him like a trail of sin. He crawled around, his skirt around him like a tutu then reached Mingi’s legs again and waited, eyes on the floor. Not daring to look up. Mingi gripped his jaw and forced his head up, pushing two fingers past his lips and deep into his throat.

No need to be told, Yunho choked immediately on the fingers, drooling as he struggled to keep eye contact.

“You are sorry,” Mingi murmured, amused. “Look at you. Ruined already and I haven’t even unzipped.”

Yunho whimpered at the sound of his fly opening.

“Open wide.”

Yunho obeyed instantly, on his knees now, tongue out, eyes wide and tearing. Mingi stroked himself slowly, letting his pierced cock grow even harder under Yunho’s stare. Thick, flushed, heavy and decorated with silver. One ring just below the head. Another at the base. Yunho drooled just from the sight.

“Use that pretty mouth. Show me what a good little cum dump you are.”

Yunho didn’t hesitate.

He dove forward, lips wrapping around the head, gagging immediately as Mingi pushed deeper, no time to adjust, no warning. Mingi gripped his hair and fucked his face with brutal rhythm, the sound of wet gags echoing through the room. Yunho’s throat flexed, his jaw ached, tears poured down his cheeks but he didn’t pull back. He moaned around it. Worshiped it. Choked on it like it was his god.

Mingi grunted, grabbed the leash and yanked it tight while shoving in deep, burying every inch of his cock in the boy’s throat until his nose pressed to skin, tongue trying to memorize every ridge of the metal piercing. The dom held him there. Watching him squirm and struggle, chest heaving, eyes wide.

“Breathe through it. That’s it, my pretty pup.”

Yunho trembled violently at the praise, eyes rolling. Mingi began thrusting hard and mercilessly. Using Yunho’s throat like a cocksleeve. Yunho choked, spit foaming around the base, tears running unchecked down his cheeks. But his cock twitched, leaking pre-cum more than ever. He tried to hold on Mingi’s thighs but the man yanked him off by the leash.

“Get up. Over there. In front of the mirror.”

Yunho stumbled up, shaking, still gagging, and knelt again in front of the tall standing mirror near the bed. His reflection was shameful; flushed, tear-stained, mouth swollen, thighs trembling, cock aching under the thin fabric of his skirt. His puppy ears crooked.

Mingi came up behind him. His hand slid around his throat and squeezed, just enough to cut the breath.

“Look.”

Yunho stared.

“This is what you look like begging,” Mingi whispered into his ear. “You think you deserve to be fucked? You look like a desperate whore who needs to be punished more.”

“I—I do,” Yunho breathed out. “I need to be punished. Hurt. Owned. Please—”

Mingi stepped back, finally stripping off the last of his clothes, slow and deliberate like he wanted to be worshipped for it. He sat down on the edge of the bed, legs spread like a throne was beneath him, cock flushed and still slick, twitching with the promise of ruin. A cold smirk curled his lips as he looked down at the trembling boy.

His skin glistened under the low light, every muscle drenched in sweat like he’d been carved from heat itself. His thighs—thick, tensed, dripping—were even more beautiful than Yunho had imagined. Obscene, almost. The way they framed his shaft, heavy and wet between them, should’ve been illegal. Yunho swallowed hard, eyes wide, knees weak. He couldn’t look away. He wanted to ride them.

“Come here”

Yunho didn’t hesitate. He crawled to him and sat back on his heels, waiting (patiently).

“Remember this is what you are when you try to make me lose control.”

Yunho swallowed thickly. “Yes, sir. I’ll be so good.”

“Yeah? You want to be my fucking good toy?”

Yunho nodded frantically. “ I want to be your toy. Just a body for you to use. A throat to fuck. A hole to fill. I want you to humiliate me. Hurt me. Just don’t ignore me. Please…please fuck me. I’ll do anything. I’ll bark. I’ll crawl. I’ll stay on a leash forever…just please…please…wreck me.”

Even though hearing Yunho beg was hot as hell, Mingi had heard enough. With one hand tangled in Yunho’s hair, he pulled his head forward and shut him up the only way he knew would work. His cock slid past Yunho’s lips, thick and hot, forcing a surprise gasp out of the boy as it filled his throat. Warm. Tight. Perfect. Yunho’s nails scraped against Mingi’s thighs, but he didn’t pull away he leaned in, taking more, gagging around the weight of him.

“Much better,” Mingi muttered, voice low and wrecked. “Now keep quiet and do something useful with that mouth.”

Yunho was a mess by the time Mingi finally dragged him off his cock. Strings of spit snapped between his swollen lips and the tip, chin soaked, cheeks streaked with tears and cum. His jaw ached, unhinged and trembling, and his throat burned; used, raw, stretched beyond comfort. But his eyes… his eyes were glassy, dazed, utterly fucked out. Blissfully ruined.

He swayed slightly on his knees, breath stuttering, lips parted like he couldn’t tell if he wanted to cry or beg for more.

Mingi cupped his face roughly, forcing him to look up. “Look at you,” he muttered with a dark chuckle. “All that mouth and this is how you end up. Ruined for me.”

Yunho whimpered. He didn’t even know what he was asking for anymore. Mingi looked down at him. “Get up. Hands on the mirror.”

Yunho stumbled to his feet, head light from the choking, body twitching from overuse. He staggered toward the mirror, his reflection shameful and perfect, plug still peeking out between his cheeks.

“Remove it,” Mingi ordered.

Yunho reached back, pulled the toy out slowly with a choked gasp, legs nearly giving out as it popped free.

“Now show me.”

Yunho obeyed like he was possessed. He bent over, hands braced against the mirror, arching his back and spreading himself open, eyes locked on Mingi’s through the glass. Mingi came behind him, pressed his thick pierced cock right against that aching, gaping hole.

“You’ve begged enough, brat. But you haven’t suffered enough.”

Yunho cried out, but it turned into a high, pathetic whine when he felt Mingi’s cock—bare—press against his entrance.

“You’re going to thank me,” Mingi said, dragging the tip along his abused rim. “For every-Single-Inch.”

And then he slammed in.

Yunho screamed, face smashed into the mirror, fogging it with his breath as Mingi buried himself to the hilt.

There was no slow. No mercy. Just pure, primal force. Mingi shoved into forward, piercings grinding cruelly against the spot that made Yunho jerk and sob. His voice broke. “T-thank you! thank you thank you thank you—”

“Louder.”

“THANK YOU—fuck—thank you for fucking me, for using me, for making me your little hole, I love it, I love it—”

Mingi began to thrust harder and faster.

“Fucking finally,” Mingi hissed. “You’re so fucking tight, even after all that prep. You want to break, don’t you?”

Yunho sobbed, nodding frantically. “Yes, yes sir, please..use me—”

Mingi yanked the leash, pulling Yunho’s head back while his hips pistoned in mercilessly. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. Yunho cried out with every thrust, the glass in front of him smeared with tears and spit.

“You see yourself?” Mingi growled, panting. “Look at this filthy little body. This is what you were made for. A hole to fuck. A pup to break. Just a dripping, cock-starved toy.”

Yunho could barely hold himself up. His legs gave out once, twice, each time Mingi slapped his ass and shoved him back against the mirror.

“Stand.”

“I…I’m trying—” Yunho whimpered.

“Try harder. Or I’ll tie you to the fucking frame and edge you for hours.”

Yunho whined and choked a sob. He wants to cum, he wants to cum so bad.

“Beg to cum.”

“Please,” he cried, “please, master, please let me—”

Mingi pulled out suddenly. Yunho screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cried both from pleasure and pain. Desperation soaking his face.

“No! No no no please don’t stop—!”

Mingi grabbed him by the throat from behind, squeezing just enough to make the edges of Yunho’s vision blur. His cock was still pressed to his entrance, teasing, pulsing against the swollen rim.

“You’ll cum when I say, pup.”

Yunho sobbed, hips jerking, body burning. He was dripping. Shaking. His hole was fluttering open and empty, his cock throbbing so hard it hurt.

“Say it.”

“I’ll cum when you say,” Yunho gasped, “I’ll cum for you, only for you, please, please—”

Mingi slammed back in.

This time, he didn’t stop.

He fucked Yunho into the mirror like he wanted to break him, hands gripping his hips, his leash, his throat. Every thrust, brutal. Precise. Relentless.

He reached under Yunho, finally, and stroked his cock once—twice—to send him hurtling over the edge.

“Cum, pup. Cum for master.”

Yunho howled. He came hard, so hard, untouched for so long that it was paralyzing, his whole body seizing up, his orgasm spraying the mirror, his thighs, the floor. He shook, sobbed, choked on his own moans.

Mingi didn’t stop.

He kept fucking him through it, hips slamming harder, chasing his own orgasm now. He grunted, breath ragged, hips jerking as he thrust inside him, deeply, burying himself as far as he could go, the piercings brushing Yunho’s prostate.

They stood there—tangled and sweaty—Yunho pinned to the mirror, Mingi wrapped around him like sin incarnate. Still buried deep inside him, Mingi pulled back just enough to grab Yunho’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet in the smeared reflection.

“Look at yourself,” he growled, breath hot against Yunho’s cheek. “You think this is over?”

Without pulling out, Mingi dragged him to the bed. Yunho stumbled, legs jelly, hole still pulsing around him. But Mingi didn’t stop, not even for a second. He threw Yunho onto the mattress and climbed on top, hips never pausing, driving back in with one hard, punishing thrust that made Yunho arch and sob.

Then came the sting; Mingi’s fingers unclipping the clamps from Yunho’s pierced nipples. The blood surged back, the sensation violent, electric, dizzying. Yunho screamed incoherent words, body twitching.

Mingi didn’t give him time to breathe. He took one of the swollen, metal-ringed buds into his mouth, sucking viciously. His teeth scraped over the sensitive flesh, biting just enough to make Yunho buck, then harder. Sloppy, wet suction echoed between their bodies, loud, messy, relentless.

“Fuck—f-fuck—Min..Master, I—!”

Yunho could barely speak, his voice a hoarse whisper. His cock, painfully hard again, slapped against Mingi’s abdomen, dripping, twitching like he hadn’t just come a minute ago. Mingi grabbed Yunho by the waist and flipped them with practiced ease, settling back against the pillows, cock still deep, still hard.

“Ride.”

Yunho blinked, disoriented, overstimulated, but his body obeyed like it had a mind of its own. He straddled Mingi, thighs shaking, hands pressed to the muscles of his chest as he sank back down. Mingi reached up, pinched one sore nipple between his fingers, and twisted. Yunho choked on a moan, back arching.

“Look at that cock,” Mingi murmured, eyes locked on the angry red shaft bobbing against Yunho’s belly. “Still begging to be touched. What a needy little slut you are.”

And Yunho moved, fucked himself down on Mingi’s cock, again and again, driven by pain, pleasure, and something feral. Something broken and holy.

He rode him like he was born for it, legs shaking, skirt hiked up around his hips, barely hanging on. The fabric bounced with every thrust, offering teasing flashes of slick thighs as he fucked himself harder, faster, chasing something he wasn’t even sure he was allowed to have.

Mingi’s cock throbbed deep inside him, thick and pulsing, hips snapping up to meet every desperate drop of Yunho’s body. His hands gripped Yunho’s waist, guiding him, using him like a toy he’d shaped to perfection.

“You want it, huh?” Mingi grunted, jaw tight, chest gleaming with sweat. “That permission?”

Yunho nodded frantically, eyes blown wide, mouth parted in silent pleading.

“Please..please, sir..I’ll be good, I’ll—fuuck—I’ll clean it up, I swear..just let me—”

Mingi groaned low in his throat, hips bucking up one last time, deep and brutal.

“Now.”

Yunho shattered. His entire body tensed as Mingi came inside him, thick and hot, flooding his hole. At the same time, Yunho screamed and came all over Mingi’s chest, white streaks painting his skin, hot and sticky across his abs.

He collapsed forward, panting, trembling, face buried in Mingi’s neck. But then he pushed himself up on his palms, eyes flicking up to Mingi’s like a desperate dog waiting for praise. And without hesitation, he dipped his head and licked his own cum off Mingi’s chest.

Long, slow laps of his tongue, swallowing every drop, whining softly with each one like it was a reward. He cleaned Mingi’s skin with quiet reverence, like it was sacred, his tongue dragging over pecs, abs, and the trail of sweat and filth between them.

Mingi let out a low, feral laugh, hand resting against the back of Yunho’s head. “Good fucking boy.”

Yunho whimpered. That was all he needed.
He’d do it all again just to hear those words.
Yunho’s lips parted, eyes wide, streaked with tears and cum and shame, he smiled softly. Fucked-out.

Mingi pressed a kiss to his temple. “You took it so fucking well.”

“Thank you, Master,” he breathed.

•••

Yunho didn’t move. He couldn’t. His sore body twitched occasionally, spent and limp, still pressed against the dom, forehead resting on his chest. His mouth hung open, breath slow and shallow, lashes damp with tears, lips trembling.

He was floating.

Not thinking. Not speaking.

Just gone.

Mingi knew the signs immediately.

“Pup,” he whispered. He placed both hands on Yunho’s waist, grounding him, his touch warm and gentle now, worlds away from the brutality he’d just delivered. Yunho didn’t respond. Just swayed slightly, as if the air had weight.

“Color, baby.”

Still nothing.

Mingi pressed a kiss to the curve of his shoulder. “You’re okay. You’re with me. I got you.”

Yunho blinked slowly. His eyes were glassy, and unfocused. Mingi wrapped his arms around him, caressing his back.

“Shh, I got you. Lemme take care of you now.”

Yunho curled into his chest instinctively, like his body remembered Mingi even if his mind wasn’t back yet. The dom carefully unclipped the leash, removing the collar, peeling the skirt off with slow, reverent fingers.

“Breathe for me, pup. Just listen to my voice, yeah?”

He grabbed the warm towel from the nightstand and gently cleaned the mess between Yunho’s thighs. His own cum, Yunho’s sweat, tears, lube, all wiped away with quiet devotion. He whispered praise between each motion.

“You were so perfect tonight.”

“My good boy. My beautiful pup.”

“I’m so proud of you. My pretty angel.”

Still no words, but Yunho’s eyes fluttered at the sound. His fingers twitched, barely curling into the sheets. Mingi pulled the blanket over him and slid in behind, pressing his chest to Yunho’s back, wrapping both arms around him protectively. He kissed his neck, slow and patient.

“Come back to me, baby.”

And finally, Yunho let out the tiniest sound. A shaky inhale. A little whimper.

Mingi held him tighter, not speaking at first just pressing his lips softly to Yunho’s hairline. He felt the shiver still running beneath the skin, the tension that hadn’t fully left yet.

“Good boy,” he whispered. “You’re back.”

Yunho blinked, slow, unfocused. “Master…”
“I’m here.” Mingi kissed his forehead. “You did so well. Let me take care of you now, hm?”

He slid out of bed carefully, pulling the covers gently back over Yunho’s body. “Stay right there. Don’t move.”

The room was dim, quiet, warm. Outside, the world didn’t exist. Just them. Mingi returned a moment later with a bottle of water and a small piece of chocolate. He sat beside Yunho again, hand immediately back on his thigh, grounding him.

“Drink for me, pup.” His voice was soft, but firm.

Yunho sat up slowly, still trembling, and let Mingi guide the bottle to his lips. He drank in small sips, his throat raw, eyes closed like even this simple act was too much.

Mingi waited.

“Good,” he praised quietly. “Now this.”

He unwrapped the chocolate and placed it gently against Yunho’s lips. “Sugar helps bring you down. Bite.”

Yunho obeyed. The taste melted on his tongue, sweet and warm, grounding in a way nothing else had been. He let out a small sound—almost a sigh of relief—and leaned his head onto Mingi’s chest.

Mingi held him there, stroking his hair, slow and steady.

“Safe now,” he murmured. “You’re safe. And you were so, so good for me.”

Yunho’s lashes fluttered. His voice was barely a breath. “Was I good?”

Mingi smiled. “The most perfect boy.” The praise felt good. So good.

Yunho turned his head slightly, barely able to speak. “…Master…”

Mingi smiled against his skin. “I’m here.”

“I… I was—,” Yunho whispered, voice hoarse and fragile.

“I know. You went deep,” Mingi murmured. “You did so well. You’re safe now.”

“…you didn’t leave me.”

Mingi’s arms tightened. “Never,” he said. “I’m staying here.”

And he meant it. Not just in the room. Not just for the night. He was staying.

With him.

For him.

Yunho blinked up at him, those ruined eyes searching his face. He looked exhausted. Fucked-out. Raw. But there was something else now, behind the fatigue and the haze, something small and fragile. Something dangerous.

Hope.

Mingi’s hand came up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over a tear-dried smudge of mascara. Yunho leaned into it. Instinctively. Trusting. They stayed like that for a moment, watching each other. Breathing the same air. Then, slowly, Mingi leaned in.

And finally kissed him. Slow and honest.

Yunho whimpered softly into it, lips trembling as he kissed back, his fingers weakly curling into Mingi’s arm like he was scared to fall again.

Mingi tilted his head and kissed him deeper, tongue stroking over his gently, like he was learning the shape of him. Like he had all the time in the world. His fingers slipped into Yunho’s hair, soothing, steadying, keeping him here, anchored.

Yunho gasped against his lips, breath hitching like it hurt to be touched that gently after so much pain.

And Mingi broke the kiss just long enough to whisper against his mouth:

“I like you like this.”

“…broken?” Yunho whispered back, eyes glassy.

Mingi’s smile was dangerously sweet.

“No,” he said. “Mine.”

Yunho’s heart stopped.

And then he kissed him again even more deeper. Even more desperate. And Yunho kissed him back with everything he had left.

Because yes, he was bruised. Spent. Used.

But here was the only place he wanted to be ruined again. He finally let himself fall asleep, because, for the first time all night, he felt completely owned. Completely safe. Completely wanted.

Finally, he had found the man of his fantasy.