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- ATEEZ (Band) (8)
- Blade Runner (Movies) (1)
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Yeosang was sixteen.
Too pretty for his own good. Too quiet. Too polite. The kind of beauty that drew unwanted eyes, even when he was dressed in plain clothes and bowed so low his forehead kissed the floor.
He belonged to no one.
And that was dangerous.
San met him in Kyoto.
In the home of a politician who liked to "collect" pretty things. Yeosang had been brought out to serve tea—to smile, bow, and disappear into the background. Like a vase. Like a doll.
San was already wealthy then. Already feared.
And the moment Yeosang stepped into the room—elegant, silent, too composed for someone so young—San didn’t look away.
Not once.
“Who’s that?” San had asked, even though he never asked about servants.
The politician laughed. “That one? Korean. Abandoned in the city years ago. I keep him around for display.”San’s eyes didn’t move. “I’ll take him.”
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Wooyoung leans into the blade just slightly, enough for it to nick his throat. “Do you moan for him, too? Huh? When he calls you his best angel, does it make you aroused?”
Yeosang’s fingers twitch on the hilt.
“Maybe he likes it when you cry,” Wooyoung breathes. “Bet he says ‘daddy’s proud’ right before he f—”
Yeosang’s fist collides with his jaw. Hard.
Wooyoung’s head snaps to the side, body slamming against the wall. He spits blood, laughing through the pain.
“Oh, there it is,” he gasps. “That little twitch. That’s the real you, isn’t it? Not the weapon. Not the lapdog. Just another broken little boy looking for someone to call—”
Yeosang grabs him by the throat and slams him down to the pavement.
“I am not broken,” he snarls, eyes blazing. “I was made perfect.”
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It had been days. Too many fucking days since he last had Yeosang beneath him.
But not on the cot. No, the memory haunting him now was much filthier.
Yeosang pressed against the infirmary wall, his cheek flush against the cool surface, fingers clawing at nothing as Mingi held him there—hips snapping forward, pressing him down, fucking him deep. The way Yeosang’s gasps had broken into desperate cries, his legs trembling, barely able to keep himself up if not for Mingi’s strong grip. The way Mingi had growled in his ear, asking him who he belonged to, forcing him to admit it over and over again while he pounded into him relentlessly.
Mingi clenched his jaw, shifting slightly in his chair. His uniform suddenly felt too tight, the weight of it suffocating. He could still hear it—the sharp gasps, the choked sobs, the way Yeosang had begged him for more even as his body shook with overstimulation.
His fingers twitched against the table.He needed to see him. Needed to remind him.
Series
- Part 2 of No Peace Between Us
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San remembered the first time Yeosang got sick.
It was spring — the kind of spring that only old money could afford. Warm air drifting through lace curtains, fresh flowers delivered from the countryside, polished floors and laughter that echoed through marble halls like music.
Yeosang had been in the music room that day, sitting at the grand piano with his back to the light. He always looked a little too ethereal in that room, like something that belonged in oil paint. San had walked in quietly, just to watch — like he always did.
Then Yeosang coughed.
Just once. Short, delicate. He even smiled afterward, hand fluttering to his chest like it was nothing.
San had smiled back. Teased him about dusty rooms and delicate lungs. Kissed the top of his head and moved on.
They never spoke of it.
But then it happened again. And again.
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“You good?” San asked, leaning close to murmur near Yeosang’s temple.
Yeosang nodded too quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, I just—there’s a lot of people.”
They kept walking, and Yeosang stayed quiet. He blinked up at the Ferris wheel as they passed it, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. San offered to buy him a stuffed bunny from one of the prize booths, but Yeosang shook his head, mouth tight.
The turning point came fast.
Someone in the crowd accidentally brushed against Yeosang from behind — not a hard shove, just a careless touch. But their hand grazed his tail.
Yeosang froze. Ears flattened.
Or, Bunny hybrid Yeosang gets overwhelmed at the Easter fair. Luckily, his boyfriend San knows exactly how to handle a pouty bunny.
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- Words:
- 16,565
- Works:
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- Bookmarks:
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Triggers in Tags List. Please read before reading.
**
"God was in everything in the town of Broken Bow, Nebraska."
Dennis Whitaker never made it to medical school, he's twenty-fix working at his mother's bakery. Day to day is the same, he gets in at five in the morning, he leaves at six in the evening. In a town where everyone knows everyone when Michael "Robby" Rabinovitch arrives, he sticks out like a sore thumb. After Robby becomes a regular at the bakery, Dennis starts to remember why he wanted to leave town all those years ago.
Bookmarked by dollyechan
04 Oct 2025
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bosie wants sandwiches. oscar wants something else.
Bookmarked by dollyechan
04 Sep 2025
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Oh Comrade, My Comrade by MarxistManiac
Fandoms: Political RPF - Russian 20th c., Political RPF, Historical RPF
16 Aug 2025
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Summary
Trotsky and Lenin shared many things, a vision, a party, an idol, a kiss- but, when the gunshots had been fired, and the winter palace had fell, could they share power?
(disclaimer: this story is not based in reality in the slightest, nor does it endorse any of the actions of the bolsheviks or the soviet regime- it is a silly piece of fiction- and should be read as such.)
This is ongoing!! I would really appreciate you guys commenting—whatever you want— I’d love some constructive criticism as well.
Bookmarked by dollyechan
08 Jul 2025